She’d walked to the door of the prison block and pushed it open. A pair of guards, the same dragon clones that had ambushed us that night with Dante, had entered the room, and Riley had stiffened.
“Don’t worry.” Mist had turned and smirked at him, as if she’d known what he was thinking. “The vessels have been trained for obedience and to follow the commands of certain dragons in this location. I happen to be one of them. They don’t disobey orders, they don’t talk back and they don’t ask questions. We’re going to walk through the building in plain sight, and no one will stop us.”
She’d given an order, and the clones had surrounded us, staring straight ahead as they’d moved into position. Riley had snorted, his expression curling with disgust. “Take a good look, St. George,” he’d muttered. “This is what Talon wants us to be. Soulless, mindless and obedient. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Elder Wyrm wants to get rid of us all and replace us with these things.”
Mist had opened the door again and peered down the hall. “We’re clear,” she’d said quietly, and glanced back at us. “Stay close, keep your heads down and don’t say anything unless I tell you to.” She’d straightened and taken a furtive breath, as if steeling herself. “All right, let’s go.”
I’m coming, Ember, I’d thought as we moved out, the clones flanking us and Mist in the lead. Wherever you are, just hang on a little longer.
We’d walked out of the room into a narrow cement corridor, which had turned into the long, well-lit hallway we were walking through now, with white tile floors and doors lining either side. A few humans in long white coats or business suits wandered the floors but, much as Mist had said, kept their heads down and paid us no attention when we walked past with the clones.
“Miss Anderson?”
A thin man stepped into the hallway, his black eyes narrowing as he stopped us in the corridor. With a chill, I realized it was the dragon that had interrogated Riley and me last night. I saw Riley’s shoulders tense, saw the muscles in his arms tighten as he clenched his fists, and hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash. The Basilisk gave us a wary look, then turned to Mist with a frown.
“Where are you going with the prisoners?” he asked, his sibilant voice grating in my ears. The same smooth, hissing voice that had informed us, again and again, that it would be better if we just told him what he wanted. “I was going to interrogate them again in a few hours.” He eyed us with a hungry smile. “Perhaps this time, a more delicate approach is required. We will see if a scalpel and a pair of pliers can encourage them to talk.”
Riley smirked. “Maybe you should try that on yourself, Luther,” he said mockingly. “It would certainly be an improvement.”
The other Basilisk turned on him, eyes narrowing to black slits, but Mist broke in before he could say anything.
“You had your chance, Luther,” she said, disdain coloring her voice. “Mr. Hill was not pleased with the results of your interrogation and has put me back on assignment. Your skills are no longer required.”
Luther bared his teeth with a hiss, making me tense. For a split second, I could see his other form, a thin black dragon with mottled green wings, looming over the girl. A chill raced up my back, even as the blood in my veins boiled. The image had been so real; I had never seen anything like that before.
Mist faced the furious Basilisk and didn’t back down. “If you are displeased, take it up with Mr. Hill,” she said. “Or, better yet, you could go straight to the top. I am sure the Elder Wyrm will be very interested to learn of your failure.”
The blood instantly drained from his face. “N-no,” he stammered, backing away. “That’s not necessary.” He gave us one last glare, eyes gleaming, before turning an oily smile on Mist. “Well, good luck, Miss Anderson,” he said, his tone oozing. “Perhaps your techniques will succeed where mine did not, but if you need any help, or expertise, you have only to call.”
“Thank you,” Mist said icily. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Luther nodded, gave us one last smile and continued down the hall. Mist watched him until he turned a corner and was out of sight, then glared at Riley.
“If you don’t want us to be discovered, Cobalt, perhaps you shouldn’t antagonize everyone we come across.”
Riley grinned. “Worried, Miss Anderson?” he replied. “I thought you wanted this to be realistic. It would have been more suspicious if I just took the slimy bastard’s insults and didn’t say anything.”
Mist shook her head. But she didn’t say anything else as she led us down the corridor again, moving a little faster now, until we came to the elevators near the end of the hall.
“Get in,” she ordered as the doors opened. We did, and the clones followed, flanking us inside the box. Mist pressed a button, the doors slid shut and the elevator began to ascend.
Mist motioned briskly to Riley and inserted a key into the cuffs at his wrists. “I have your phone, Cobalt,” she said as the shackles were removed. “When we get to where we’re going, I need you to contact your hacker friend and explain the situation. I hope he’s as good as everyone seems to believe. From here on out, we have to move as fast as we can.”
“What are we looking for, anyway?” Riley asked.
Mist hesitated, then turned to me. “I’m not entirely certain,” she admitted, unlocking my restraints. “But that computer is supposed to hold the plans for...something big. Something that has to do with the vessels, and what the Elder Wyrm intends to do with them. There have been rumors circling about something called the Night of Fang and Fire, which I admit sounds cheesy but is troubling all the same. My employer would like to know exactly what this Night of Fang and Fire is.”
Riley and I shared a glance. The Night of Fang and Fire? It certainly sounded like we should be worried about it. At the same time, it made me desperate to get to Ember. To get us all out of here and find someplace safe before the world exploded in a hellstorm of dragonfire.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open to reveal an office-type floor, though the hallways were dark and looked deserted. The only lights came from the glow of screen savers through open office doors.
“Stay here,” Mist told the clones, who didn’t so much as blink at her. “Guard the elevator until we return.” To us, she jerked her head down the hall. “The room isn’t far. Let’s go.”
Following her lead, we hurried down the corridor, turned a corner and paused at a plain office door with narrow floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. Mist produced a key card from a cord attached to her belt and slid it into a slot reader near the handle. The door beeped once, and we slipped inside.