Broken Shadows (23 page)

“That’s why it has to be now.” A dark blue van screeched to halt in the red zone beside us. Blue lights were flashing on the dash. I panicked for a moment—then James got out of the driver’s seat. He was carrying a gun.

“Is he allowed to do that?” I asked, staring.

“Not exactly,” Jackson said.

James handed Jackson a second gun and a pair of handcuffs, which he took without comment. “Oh—and this.” James passed over a badge in a black leather case. “Ready?” he said.

“Do we have a choice?”

“Whoa. Wait. What is going on here?”

Jackson turned to me. “We’re arresting them. If we let them go, they’ll tip off whoever else is involved before we have a chance to take them down. We have to neutralize them now. Will you wait in the back seat?”

“I—”

“I need you.” He leaned in close. “I need you to ground Charlie.” There was raw fear in his eyes. I knew what it cost him to ask me to be involved, to put me at risk.

“I’m ready,” I said.

His eyes blazed with a fierce pride, and he squeezed my hip through the safety of my jeans. He turned to his father. “Let’s go.”

I climbed into the van and watched while James and Jackson pushed through the doors of the club. I left the van door open, and so I heard when the chatter of conversation gave way to silence and screams. The sounds of breaking glass and flying furniture echoed in the street.

It seemed to take hours for them to come out again, but it could only have been minutes. James had Erica, and Jackson had Charlie. Both of them were handcuffed. Charlie was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. A crowd of people followed them onto the street.

“Fuck this!” Charlie was yelling. “They’re not even cops. Call the police!”

People were filming the scene with their cell phones, taking pictures, making calls. Jackson kept up his march to the van. I clambered into the back and opened the doors for him.

“What is going on?” Erica asked. “Jackson, why are you doing this?”

“Quiet,” James said, his face set, and he guided her inside.

“Call the police!” Charlie yelled. “Somebody call the fucking police!”

There was a crowd of two dozen outside. Someone was bound to take Charlie seriously. We didn’t have much time. The back door slammed shut, and James and Jackson raced to the front seats, James behind the wheel. He pulled out of the spot and sped down the street while the crowd held their camera phones up behind us.

“We don’t have long,” Jackson said as we rounded the corner. “Mina?”

I looked at Charlie. He was fuming, glaring at me with death in his eyes. I was betting it was only Jackson’s presence that kept him from telekinetically attacking me. Erica was sobbing quietly in the back corner of the van.

“Why did you try to mug me?” I asked Charlie. “Why were you waiting for me?”

He set his mouth in a line.

“Fine,” I said, and I grabbed his handcuffed hands.

The buzz of enhancers raced through me, and I focused on the transfer. I had to get this done fast—I expected to hear sirens any minute. Charlie tried to twist away, but it was already too late. I knew I hadn’t grounded him completely, but I hoped it would be enough. Beside me, Jackson nodded, and his eyes went dark.

“Shit,” he said, and pulled out a tranq gun like the one he’d given me. He shot Charlie directly in the chest. Erica screamed, but it was cut off short when Jackson shot her as well. She slumped sideways, eyes rolling back in her head.

“What?” I said. “Who is it?”

“It’s Simon.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“I should have known. I should have picked up on it.” James’s knuckles were white on the wheel. Twice already we’d heard sirens and had to pull into driveways and alleyways with the lights off. Erica and Charlie slept on.

“I should have known too,” I said. The way that junkie had gone after him—I should have realized. “Is she involved?” I nodded toward Erica, who was softly snoring.

“No—but she’s on the pills. She doesn’t know Simon’s supplying Charlie.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We get out of sight, first. And then we go after Simon.”

After another half hour on little-used surface streets, James pulled into a loading bay in the abandoned car dealership. Sebastian was waiting for us, the corrugated metal door half raised. He slammed it closed again as soon as the van cleared the entrance.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“A little,” said James. “There’s going to be a mess to clean up.”

“Do I need to swap the plates on this thing?”

James nodded. “It could probably use a paint job too.”

“What did you do? Set fire to the bar?”

James wisely ignored this question and yanked Charlie out of the van while Jackson did a gentler job of carrying Erica to one of the workout mats on the floor. Sebastian stood over Charlie with his wings flared and his face like stone.

“Wake him up,” he said to James.

James exchanged a glance with Jackson, shrugged, and pulled a black case out of his shoulder bag. It contained a small syringe, and he injected the contents into Charlie’s upper arm. Sebastian leaned down until his face was only a foot from Charlie’s. His eyes fluttered, went shut again, and he came awake all at once.

He jerked and tried to scramble back, but Sebastian held him in place with one hand, his wings stretching back like a dark umbrella. With his other hand, he reached into Charlie’s pocket and pulled out his phone.

“Call Simon,” he said, and held it out to him.

Charlie looked moderately less terrified, but only moderately. “What am I supposed to say to him?”

“Tell him you sold the rest of your product and you have money you owe him, tell him you need a re-up, tell him whatever the hell you want, but get him to meet you in the next thirty minutes.” Sebastian grinned. “Or I will start breaking your fingers.”

“I—I can’t do that. He’ll kill me.”

“You don’t mind broken fingers?” Simon looked at Charlie’s restrained hands. “I’m happy to break something else.”

“No! No. Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll call him. But you have to uncuff me.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Sebastian dialed Charlie’s phone for him and held it to his ear.

We were all perfectly still while Charlie stammered out a request for more pills. The conversation was over quickly, and Seb hung up the phone.

“He’ll be there,” Charlie said. “I swear.”

“Excellent,” Sebastian said. “Until then, you’re waiting in lock-up.”

Sebastian and James brought Charlie through one of the doors below Sebastian’s. James was going to stay on guard duty while Jackson and I helped Sebastian grab Simon. Charlie had told Simon to meet him at “the usual spot,” which turned out to be the same park where I’d run my awkward sting on Thomas. It wasn’t an ideal place for an ambush. Open chain link on two sides, a busy street on another, and wall of rotting wood siding on the fourth. There weren’t many places to hide. When we arrived, a group of guys were skateboarding in the half-pipe.

Of all the problems the space presented, the skateboarders were the ones that bothered me the most. I didn’t see any way of getting rid of them. As it turned out, Sebastian had that covered. When a six-foot-six linebacker of a man tells you to clear out, it takes a brave—or perhaps stupid—person to say no. His wings were hidden, but it was impossible not to pick up on the threat he represented, the sneaking sense of danger. Even I could feel it. The guys picked up their boards and left, and Sebastian sat down in the half pipe with his arms folded and his legs crossed, waiting in complete stillness. Jackson and I headed across the street to an unoccupied twenty-four-hour Laundromat next door to something that claimed to be a “Sanctuary for Artists.” The windows were boarded up.

“How are you doing?” Jackson asked me, his voice low.

“I’m mostly afraid we’re going to get arrested.”

“Don’t worry about that. Seb will take care of it.”

“Still.”

“We’re going to get him,” Jackson said, and he squeezed my forearms. “This is going to be over.” I recognized the note of anticipation in his voice. I felt it too.

“I can hardly wait.”

“The first thing I’m going to do,” he said, leaning in, and dropping his voice, “is take off every stitch of clothing and let you put your mouth on every inch of my body.”

A bolt of desire lit me up like a lightning strike. Before I could form the words to respond, the rumble of a motorcycle jerked me out of the rapidly developing fantasy in my head. Simon.

He parked his bike in a loading zone and headed into the park casually, hands in his pockets, as if he were checking the place out for the first time. He leaned against the swing set where the dealer had sat.

Now it was up to Jackson and me to flush him into the skate park. It offered the best chance of taking him down without witnesses. We were supposed to advance from the two street-facing entrances, leaving him nowhere to go but deeper into the park. I’d pointed out that I didn’t represent much of a threat—my powers were still tapped out from grounding Erica and Charlie. But as Jackson pointed out, Simon didn’t know that.

Jackson’s phone buzzed with a text from Sebastian—our signal.

“Ready?” he asked me.

“Ready.”

We left the silent washateria and jaywalked across the street. Simon hadn’t seen us yet, but any minute he would. We headed for opposite gates, and the metal creaked when I opened mine. Simon looked up.

At first, he only looked perplexed. I kept walking forward.

“Mina? What are you doing here?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. He saw Jackson in the next instant, and no one could mistake his posture for anything but threatened. Jackson advanced on Simon, who looked as though he didn’t know which way to run. I spread my fingers wide. As Jackson had said, he didn’t know I couldn’t use them.

He made up his mind—he ran, and he ran right for the concrete jungle of the skate park. It was obvious when he saw Sebastian. He shrieked.

I looked around, hoping no one had heard, but the street was empty. I rounded the concrete wall bordering the skate park just in time to see Simon go down.

Watching a guardian take down a threat was like watching a lioness take down a running gazelle. Sebastian leaped—actually leaped—onto Simon and flattened him, his knee in his back, his hands securing his wrists. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him crouch down and rip out Simon’s throat with his teeth. Fortunately, he only handcuffed him with a pair of zip ties.

“It’s over,” Sebastian said, his voice a growl. “You’re done.”

* * *

“You should all stay here tonight,” Sebastian said. “Just until we see how serious this is. There were a lot of witnesses at that bar.”

We were all back in Sebastian’s loft having a “post-operation libation,” as James called it. He’d been stuck guarding Charlie while we handled “the fun part,” but he still declared himself entitled to a whiskey.

“We didn’t have a choice,” James said. “Any delay and Charlie would have tipped off Simon.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t make the right call. But you should lay low until we know how bad the fallout is.”

“Fine,” James said. “If we must.” But I sensed that he was worried.

Despite how bare Sebastian’s loft was, the sleeping arrangements were surprisingly comfortable. He brought out narrow foam sleeping pads and stacks of blankets, and we all camped out around the enormous coffee table. It was definitely the first time I’d ever had a slumber party with my boyfriend and his father, but I was too exhausted to feel anxious about it. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

The next morning, it was clear Sebastian’s worry had been well-placed. He woke us up by smacking the morning paper down on the coffee table.

“Wha—?” I came awake in a panic, then relaxed when I remembered where I was. I didn’t stay relaxed for long.

“You three need to get out of town.”

Jackson was waking up more slowly on the pallet across from me. “Whass going on?” he mumbled.

From behind a backless armchair, James said, “Where’s the coffee?”

Sebastian ignored James and tossed the paper to Jackson. The headline on the back page read “Faux Arrest has Residents Concerned,” subheaded “Police seek three suspects in presumed kidnapping.”

“Shit,” James said, looking over his son’s shoulder.

“Indeed,” Sebastian said.

“What do we do?” No one seemed sufficiently panicked about this situation. I was freaking out.

“I’ll handle it,” Sebastian said, with far more confidence than the situation seemed to warrant. “James, I’ll need about a hundred grand, I’d say. Maybe a hundred and fifty.”

I goggled at them.

“Bribes,” Jackson said.

James sighed. “Vivian and I have been wanting to take a little trip down the coast anyway. Jackson, would you like the cabin?”

“That works for me.”

“Then get going,” Sebastian said. “I’ll call when it’s under control.”

We couldn’t risk going back to our places for clothes and toiletries. Vivian—looking only mildly exasperated by the situation—came to pick up James, and Sebastian brought Jackson’s car back from its parking spot. Within half an hour, we were flying up I-80.

“You know, I don’t think anyone’s actually chasing us,” I said.

Jackson zoomed onto an interchange, which cut a canyon through a cluster of high-rises next to the bay, and a few minutes later we were over the Bay Bridge. He wove through traffic like a cat around chair legs, as if everyone else was staying still.

“The sooner we get out of the city, the sooner I can relax.” He took the split for I-80 North and accelerated, and the Audi’s engine growled. I settled back in my seat as he blew past a furniture delivery truck.

“Where are we going again?”

“My family’s cabin. Tahoe.” He glanced over at me. “I was hoping to take you there under better circumstances.”

I smiled at him. “I don’t know. This is pretty exciting.”

“Now you sound like my father,” he said, but he was laughing.

At some point, I fell asleep. Jackson must have carried me inside when we arrived, because I woke up in an enormous bed made out of rustic pine logs.

I threw off the covers and went in search of a bathroom. The first door I tried led to a closet full of someone else’s clothes. I really had to pee. I tried the next door and found a bathroom that was bigger than my bedroom. It had a skylight and a whirlpool tub. A huge window overlooked a stand of conifers. I hoped they were as deserted as they seemed.

I used the bathroom and washed my face in a fancy sink cut right into the granite countertop. Then I wandered out into what turned out to be a loft overlooking a vaulted great room with a massive stone fireplace.

If this was a cabin, I’d like to know what Jackson called a palace.

He was in the kitchen, which I could see from my spot on the balcony.

“You said it was a cabin,” I said, and he looked up, his face relaxing when he saw me. I’d startled him.

“It is a cabin.” He gestured at the tree trunks that made up the walls. “Look. Logs.”

“Those are not logs. Those are
timbers.
And this is not a cabin. It’s a—a—lodge.”

“Well—sorry.” He didn’t look sorry. “Breakfast?”

“Sounds wonderful.” I joined him in the kitchen. “Any news from Sebastian?”

“He’s working on it. Might take a few days.”

“I’ve been stuck in worse places.”

There were probably fancy names for the stone in the entryway and the sleek stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. The stove looked like it cost more than my monthly rent. I was more interested in the sausage patties Jackson was frying on the griddle.

“This was all we had in the freezer,” he said apologetically. “I’m not sure how old they are, but they look fine.”

“At this point, I’d eat almost anything.”

“I ordered groceries. They should be here later today.”

“Oh, good. I’d hate to starve in luxury.”

I opened the freezer in search of coffee. It made a
snick-whoosh
sound as if I was entering a sterile containment chamber. There was a tub of ice cream, a several mysterious foil-wrapped packages and—thank heaven—a half empty bag of coffee beans. I took them out and figured out how to work the excessively complicated coffeemaker attached to the cabinetry. I had to make do with powdered creamer, but it wasn’t terrible. We ate together at a small table set next to a huge window with a view of the lake.

“This place is pretty incredible,” I said. “Do you come up often?”

“I haven’t been in years.”

I shook my head at him. “You really need to use your vacation time for something other than tracking down criminals.” I ate the last piece of sausage off my plate. It was perfection.

“Ah—I’ve been meaning to tell you.” His eyes twinkled. “I quit my job.”

“You what?” My jaw dropped.

“I quit. I’ve wanted to do it for years. I just didn’t know it.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t help grinning. I could almost feel the relief and happiness coming off him. “Wow. Congratulations.”

He stretched his arms behind him. “I have enough freelance work lined up for six months, maybe more. It’ll be a lot less money, but...”

“Worth it,” I said.

“Yeah. I think so.”

I raised my mug. “Here’s to no more boring warehouses.”

Jackson clinked his cup with mine.

We picked up our dirty dishes, and I started washing the griddle over his protests. “You can do the plates. So does this mean you’re going to be designing more enormous ranch houses in Texas?”

“Some. But hopefully a lot more mixed-use buildings in the city. Things like the Center, the evictions, all the developments...I might not be able to stop it, but I don’t have to be a part of it.” His face was serious, and I stopped scrubbing for a moment.