With his hood down, I could see his face in full, long and slender, beautiful with its high angles and sharp edges. The smile playing on his lips was gentle, unassuming—Nick’s smile. But I knew better than to trust it.
“This is a world of shadows, Maia,” he told me, leaning so his silver hair fluttered over his shoulders. “And the secrets hide themselves there in the dark. You’ll understand that soon enough. I’ll give you a sign.” His breath was hot on my skin as he spoke, his melodic voice dancing in the heavy, spiced air. “You won’t miss it.”
Then he walked backward a few steps before disappearing, leaving me alone in the dark room.
6
WE WERE TO REPORT TO Sibyl immediately. Between Saul reemerging suddenly in Morocco and the mysterious man we’d found instead of him at the desert hideout, there were already too many variables to sort out. Still, I had to be careful. Some things we couldn’t share with the Sect.
The Sect van took us from the streets of London down the phantom-proof highways to the facility. As I watched the dying evening sun through the window, I thought of Saul gripping me in his arms and shivered.
“Maia? Are you feeling better?” Lake asked for the thousandth time and leaned in from her seat beside me. The other girls hadn’t stopped looking at me sideways since we’d left Africa. “That scrying session was pretty intense. Then Saul shows up in your room.”
Chae Rin smacked the side of my head when I didn’t answer. “Hello? We’re asking you if you’re okay.”
Rubbing my head, I shot her a glare. “I’m fine. I’m still breathing, anyway.”
“What about the scrying?” Over the months, Lake had gotten comfortable enough with me to poke me in the arm, the cheek—it was annoying, but I didn’t tell her not to. “What did you see when you were in there?”
I noticed Belle’s head shift from the passenger seat.
“Not much,” I lied, stifling a sudden nervous thump in my chest. “What matters is that I am okay now.” I can’t tell you here, I wanted to say. Not with Sect agents around.
Natalya’s death had too many imprints on it. Saul. The Sect. And—
My hand twitched against the car window ledge. Forget him, I ordered myself. He wasn’t even here anymore. He’d gone back home. He was gone. He didn’t matter.
Rhys.
The sensation of his arms around my waist, his hand gripping the back of my head lingered even if it’d just been a dream. The blood dripping from his lips and the grin he’d given Natalya in the museum . . . No. With a slight jolt of my head, I shook his image away.
The Sect was what I had to focus on now. The Sect had lied about Natalya’s death. And even now, Saul knew where I was because he’d been told. Who else would know but the Sect?
How far did this go?
Until I was sure I could trust Sibyl, I couldn’t tell her about my visions of Natalya. There were some things I had to keep close to my chest.
And not just hidden from the Sect.
My eyes drifted to Belle’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
The Sect had several main divisions, one for each continent. The London facility was the headquarters of the European Division. Tucked away in Epping Forest, a few miles out from the city, its massive buildings and connected wings remained hidden in the evergreens. There were Sect facilities all over the world, but just a few of them had the resources and equipment necessary to house and train Effigies. After passing the first set of gates, the car took us along the winding path slotted between the trees. Peaceful.
“What the hell?” The driver’s exclamation snapped me out of my daze. He leaned over the steering wheel to see them better, but even from here, I heard the clamoring crowd outside the inner gates. A few moments later, their flashing camera phones and signs were fully visible.
I grabbed the back of Belle’s headrest. “I-is that a banner? With my name on it?”
Yes. Yes, it was. FIREFLIES 4 MAIA FINLEY, it read. “Fireflies,” of course, was the newly christened name of my personal fandom. Not that I minded, but I would have chosen something better.
Lord, not this again. Fans.
Fandom names never even used to be a thing. You had hard-core fans of certain Effigies, of course, but they weren’t that organized, besides Lake’s Swans, and that was a runoff from her pop music career. But the fandom trend had picked up fast once the four of us had gotten together. Along with Swans and Fireflies, you had Belle’s Icicles and Chae Rin’s High Wires. Of course, this was all encouraged by the Sect’s PR team. Supposedly, promoting fanatical devotion could only help keep the public on our side. But some of these fans were a little too devoted.
The gates opened. Security was already there to keep the crowd from entering the premises, but most of the fans didn’t even bother; they were swarming our van. A young women tapped a life-size toy replica of Natalya’s sword against Belle’s window, waving excitedly as if it wouldn’t piss her off. On the other side of the car, an overweight man held up one of Lake’s magazine covers. With a shaky hand, he reached underneath his glasses and rubbed his teary eyes. My stomach crawled with embarrassment as it always did when I saw crowds of people waiting for us at the facility, or at events. Is this what I looked like back then when I was running from event to event trying to get Belle to sign my shoes, my posters, whatever I could find? It was such a different view from the other side of the veil.
“Effigy nerds!” Chae Rin looked disgusted. “How the hell did they get inside the premises?”
A twinge of indignation made me glare at Chae Rin. Okay, yes, they were Effigy nerds. And it was weird and slightly bizarre, but the disdain was unnecessary.
I should have realized something was wrong when we didn’t see them crowding the streets outside the first set of gates, like they had done since our battle in France. But there usually weren’t this many people. I covered my eyes from the flashes until the sound of frantic rapping against my window gave me a start.
It was the girl holding the banner. Her long, straight chestnut hair parted in two braids running down both shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen. If her skin had been a little darker, she would have reminded me of June. Of myself.
She already did.
I pressed my hand against the window and leaned in closer, watching that pleading expression from behind the glass.
“This is crazy. Hey . . .” Chae Rin poked me. “Tell your people to get lost.”
“My people?”
“I don’t speak otaku.” She snapped her fingers. “Go on. Get to it.”
Again with the disdain. I glared at her before turning back to the window. What could I say? Especially to that young girl practically begging me to roll down my window. The desperation in her green eyes was too familiar. The tremor in her voice as she said my name. The pen and notebook in her shaking, outstretched hands. I knew it all too well.
In the front seat, Belle ignored the rabble, her eyes closed, her hand rubbing her forehead wearily. She didn’t see them. Why would she? She didn’t see me back when I’d waited for her outside Lincoln Center last Fashion Week, before I’d become an Effigy. She wouldn’t see them now.