Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)

“Lucky.” Rhys whispered the word as if it were poison. “You think I was lucky?”

We stared at each other, unspeakable words brimming beneath our heavy gazes. Rhys had told me once about his training at some facility in Greenland. He’d met Blackwell’s right-hand man, Vasily, there as a child. Twisted, violent, vicious Vasily. But according to Rhys, not all of his malice could be blamed on nature.

Some training facilities are a little tougher than others, he’d said once.

“Forget it,” I said more to myself than to anyone else.

“I agree,” Belle said with a dangerous note of finality in her voice. “This is a mission.”

Rhys gripped the handle on his knife. “Fine.”

The agonizing minutes of silence that followed were mercifully broken by Eveline. “All’s clear. We’re approaching checkpoint three,” she said.

“Good. We’re getting close. Checkpoint three, report,” Rhys almost mumbled.

He must have been distracted, stewing in his own anger, because it took him a while before he realized no one had responded. Blinking, he looked up at the monitor. So did I.

Two agents were there by their booths, standing behind the railing like they were supposed to be. Like the others we’d seen, they had their long, stalky firearms, similar to the one I’d seen Howard use to vaporize Saul’s phantoms in New York. What I couldn’t figure out was why their firearms were pointed at us, charging blue along the metal side strips stretching up the length of the guns.

Belle was already on her feet. Rhys had grabbed my hand before I knew what was happening, but it was too late. The deafening blast tore my eardrums, and all I could hear was a terrible ringing as our van launched into the air.





11



TWO BLASTS. OUR DELIVERY TRUCK flipped and landed on the pavement with a crash. I felt my bones crushing against metal through my bruised, battered flesh. The sound of boots landing on the roof—no—the floor above us knocked me back into consciousness. I hadn’t even realized I’d lost it in the first place.

“Rhys.” With blood dripping down my eyelids, it was that much harder to pry them apart, but I managed to. Squinting, I felt around for him, my stomach pressed against the van’s ceiling, my hands touching cold metal, until I felt strands of hair beneath my fingertips. “Belle?”

She stirred at the sound of my voice, her lips sputtering something I couldn’t hear. Blood was streaming down the sides of her forehead, matting her hair, tracing a line down her ears. It was dark. Some of the weapons had burst out of their cases, a few phantom bombs rolling past my legs, hitting my twisted left foot. But they were still locked; none of them had gone off.

“Rhys!” Coughing, I looked around, lifting myself off my stomach to survey the inside of the delivery truck until I found him. He was out. Or dead? My heart rate suddenly sped up as I squirmed to him and felt for a pulse. No. He was still alive. Gingerly wiping some of the dirt and blood from his face, I sputtered out a grateful breath before shaking him. “Wake up. Wake up. Rhys!”

The pair of boots on the “roof” of the van stood still above us.

“U-unit Six,” I said, trying to contact the van that had been behind us. No response. “Eveline? Lock?” I shook Rhys again. “All units, all units. Unit Seven is down. I repeat. Unit Seven is down! Help us! Someone. Anyone!”

I smelled the smoke before looking up and seeing the red line of a laser carving itself through the metal.

“Saul,” I whispered. “Oh my god. All units, we’re being attacked. I think it’s Saul.”

But Saul could vanish and appear anywhere he wanted. He didn’t have to cut a hole into the van to get to us. Who was this?

“Hey!” I was yelling now, as much as my voice would allow. “Can’t you hear me?”

“They cut the communications.” Belle just barely managed to find her voice. “The mission is compromised.”

The last thing I wanted to hear.

We were running out of time. I shook Rhys again and finally he began to rouse, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. Whoever it was above us, he’d hopped down from the roof. The back doors of the van were already bent out of shape and half off their hinges, so I could see him approach. He needed only to push the metal doors to the side to find us squirming inside the van.

Or was it a “she”? The fitted bodysuit revealed an average-size feminine form, though her hair and face were sheathed inside a white metal helmet.

Metal helmet . . .

“It’s the same,” I whispered. The same helmet, the same suit. The same as the man we’d found in the Sahara hideout.

Whoever she was, she was blocking our way out and coming toward us. With a wave of her hand, Belle created a thick wall of ice to keep her from reaching us, but I knew the barrier wouldn’t last; the mysterious soldier was already pounding against it. I had to do something. Dragging myself over to the side of the van, I placed my hand on the surface. My mind was still rattled by the impact, but I didn’t have a choice. Summoning my will, I let the power flow into me, breathing it into my lungs. I felt it slide down my arms according to my will, my pulse quickening as it leaked out of my fingers.

Calm down, I told myself when my heart began beating out of whack. I saw my burning house in my mind’s eye, but I banished the image. Don’t think about your family. You’re not there; you’re here. The heat spread down half the length of the wall. Belle was pulling herself over to Rhys as the circle above us neared completion.

“Rhys, get up!” Belle gave him a hard slap just as the laser above us stopped.

One last kick sent the ice barrier crashing down. Belle knocked a block of it away with her arm, yelling out in pain. With a grunt, I let the fire explode out of my hands, closing my eyes from the blast. What was left of the van’s wall soared off and skidded across the ground. Rhys was conscious enough to grab on to Belle as we jumped out after it.

I landed on my back, turning just in time to see the woman’s boots clicking into the van, too late to reach us. She didn’t seem to mind. Instead of coming after us, she stayed inside the van, busying herself as we dragged ourselves to our feet. Busying herself . . .

The ring. That must have been it.

“She’s stealing the ring,” I yelled as Rhys and Belle got to their feet. “We have to—”

The Sect agents by the checkpoint lowered their weapons only to pick up the guns in their holsters.

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