Instead of climbing up, I took hold of the drainpipe and stepped out into the night air, plummeting down, down, down like a shooting star streaking out of the sky. I always enjoyed the sensation of free-falling, of the air rushing over my face and tangling my hair, the wind whistling in my ears, my long coat flapping against my legs. Although tonight I resisted the urge to laugh for fear that Devon might hear me and come investigate.
Just before my gray sneakers hit the ground, I gripped the drainpipe much tighter, slowing my descent and making a bit of silvery smoke waft up from my gloves. The black stone drainpipe was as smooth and slick as glass from years of being exposed to the elements, and it would have bruised and bloodied my hands if I hadn’t been wearing my ironmesh gloves to protect my palms.
The second my sneakers touched the grass, I crouched down in the shadows, looking left and right, but none of the guards had spotted me and they continued with their normal patrols.
I waited until the guards were all turned away from me, then left the shadows behind and sidled along the perimeter of the mansion, stopping when I came to a wide window that was set just above ground level. I tried the window, which pushed inward, since it, too, was unlocked. I sighed. I was getting tired of people making this so easy for me, but I slid through the window, dropping down into a room inside the mansion. Sure, I could have just used the stairs and snuck down here from my bedroom, but where was the fun in that?
I straightened up, staring out over the thick mats that covered most of the floor and a glass partition that separated the sparring area from several rows of seats. This was the training room where the guards came to hone their skills, although the doors were locked and the lights were off, given how late it was. But the moon and starlight streaming in through the window was more than enough to let me see the sturdy metal grates that covered one of the walls—and the weapons hanging behind them.
The training room also doubled as the Sinclair armory, and this was where Devon and Felix had brought all the black blades that we’d stolen from Victor tonight, putting them behind the grates for safekeeping.
But the weapons weren’t going to be locked up for long, since I was going to steal them again right now.
I moved past the glass partition, crossed the mats, and stopped in front of the last row of weapons, the ones that pulsed with magic, the ones that Devon and Felix had just brought in here less than an hour ago. A heavy padlock secured the grate and it was actually locked. Of course it was. Devon would never be so careless as to leave the weapons unprotected.
Finally, a small challenge. Grinning, I slid my chopstick lock picks out of my hair, bent over, and went to work on the padlock. It snicked open less than a minute later, and I unhooked it from the grate and slid it into one of my coat pockets. I opened the grate, wincing at the faint creak it made, then reached inside to grab the first sword— “You’ve gotten awfully good at picking that lock,” a voice called out behind me.
I tensed, then hissed out a breath and turned around. “Really? Because I think I’m losing my touch. I keep letting people sneak up on me tonight. First Deah and now you.”
The overhead lights snapped on, revealing Claudia Sinclair standing by the double doors, the training room’s only other entrance, besides the window that I’d shimmied through.
“Oh, Serena showed me a few of her tricks,” Claudia said, locking the doors behind her so that we wouldn’t be discovered. “Besides, I knew that you’d come down here as soon as possible to move the weapons. It’s the same thing your mother would have done.”
She smiled, her green eyes soft and warm with memories. Claudia and my mom had been best friends back when they were about my age, and Claudia still missed her just as much as I did.
“Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me move the weapons?” I asked. “This was your idea, after all.”
Claudia arched her eyebrows at my snarky tone, but she stepped forward and helped me strip the swords and daggers off the pegs on the wall. I placed the real black blades into the same two duffel bags that Devon and Felix had used to carry them down here, since the guys had left the bags behind after they’d finished hanging up the weapons. Then Claudia moved behind the rows of seats and dragged out two more bags of weapons that she’d hidden back there sometime earlier today. More fakes from Mo’s pawnshop spray-painted to look like black blades.
We switched out all the magic-filled weapons for the fake ones; then I closed the grate, locked the padlock over it again, and stepped back, scanning everything with a critical eye.
“How does it look to you?” Claudia asked, knowing that my sight magic let me examine every little detail.
“Exactly the same as before. No one will know the difference. They haven’t noticed so far, have they? Not even Devon and Felix, and they’ve been bringing weapons down here for the last two weeks.”