I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, then staggered to my feet and took stock of my injuries. Aside from the continued ache in my head and face, I was in one piece. After I was knocked out, they hadn’t done anything other than drag me in here. Fools. They should have already put a bullet in my head.
And that wasn’t their only mistake. The cage was sturdy, and the bars didn’t move at all when I tried to rattle them, but they were made out of regular iron and not silverstone. That meant that I could blast my way out of here with my Ice and Stone magic if I needed to.
But I decided to try something a little quieter first. I went over to the cage door, which was secured with a heavy padlock on the outside. Whoever had put me in here had taken my phone and all five of my knives, so I couldn’t jimmy it open that way. I could easily freeze the lock and then shatter it open with my Ice magic, but I didn’t know where Deirdre might be lurking, and she might sense me using a large, sudden burst of power like that.
So I reached for the smallest trickle of my magic, letting it pool in the palm of my hand, until I had a single shard of Ice about as long and thick as a needle. I held my breath, looking and listening, but no one came running into the warehouse, so I felt safe enough to add another layer of Ice to my needle, then another, then another . . . until I had formed my usual Ice pick. I stopped, looking and listening again, but the warehouse was as silent and empty as before, so I reached for another trickle of magic and made a second Ice pick.
Once I had two picks, I released my magic, stuck my arms through the gaps in the bars, and went to work on the padlock. It was an awkward position, and the pounding in my head didn’t make it any easier. Time and time again, my picks slipped out of the lock.
“Come on,” I muttered. “Come on.”
If Finn were here, he would have already opened the lock, stuck his hands into his pockets, and been whistling while he strolled away. The thought made me smile and redouble my efforts.
Finally, the picks hit the necessary sweet spots, and the lock clicked open. I started to pull it off the door so I could open it and get out of the cage, but voices sounded outside the warehouse, along with several beep-beep-beeps, as though someone was punching in a security code.
So I put the lock back together as close as it would go without actually snapping it shut. It wasn’t my most brilliant plan, but as long as I was still in the cage, I could hope no one would do more than glance at the lock. I also reached up and probed my left temple. A goose egg had formed there, and I could feel the slash of a long cut that was still oozing blood. I dipped my fingers in the blood and smeared it down the side of my face. Then I leaned wearily against the cage bars, as if I were more seriously injured than I really was.
A giant guard opened the door, and Deirdre strode into the warehouse. She had changed out of her silver party dress and was now wearing a neon-purple pantsuit and matching stilettos. Her blond hair was sleeked back into a low bun, and her icicle-heart rune glinted under the lights. No doubt, the peacock was here to strut her stuff and crow about capturing me.
Tucker entered the warehouse next, dressed in a navy suit, although it was the two people trailing him who caught my attention: Dimitri Barkov and Rodrigo Santos.
Dimitri stopped in front of the cage and smirked at me. He was still wearing his tuxedo from the museum gala, although he’d ditched his bow tie and jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. Despite the styling grease on his toupee, pieces of his fake black hair had curled up in all directions, as though he’d sprouted a dozen devil horns on his head.
Given his sneers at the museum earlier tonight, it had been obvious that Dimitri was plotting something against me. Of course he would have aligned himself with Deirdre. She wouldn’t have even had to offer him anything other than my death to make it happen. I could have smacked myself for not realizing it sooner.
But Santos was the far bigger surprise. I’d thought that Deirdre might have had a hand in the bank robbery, but her genuine shock when Santos shot her had made me back-burner that theory. Just one of the many things I’d been wrong about lately.
Either way, it seemed as though Santos had been hiding out with Dimitri this whole time, which was why Silvio hadn’t been able to track him down. But Santos and Dimitri weren’t going to be problems for much longer.
And neither was Deirdre.
Santos also smirked at me. Instead of his usual dark, anonymous clothes, he was wearing a long, expensive black overcoat and shiny black boots. The front of his coat was open, giving me a peek at the dark gray clothes he wore underneath, although it seemed more like a uniform than a suit. Weird.
Tucker kept his distance from the cage, texting on his phone. Deirdre eyed me a moment, making sure that I was exactly where she wanted me, then turned to Santos.
“Is everything set?” she asked, her voice clipped and much colder than her usual syrupy-sweet drawl.
Santos nodded. “My crew and I are ready. Everything will go according to plan. Don’t worry.”