Cloak of Deceit: An Alex Moore Novel (32 page)

Esmond rode shotgun, across from the tall, anorexic-looking Seth, with his sunken coal-black eyes. He’d creeped me out since the moment we were introduced, looking like his thin skin would slide right off of his skull. Though his appearance isn’t what made him so strange. He felt
off
, like he wasn’t all the way human. Esmond had explained Seth was a Morph Agent. He could transform himself into any organic form. That was all the explanation he gave, as if it were an everyday concept. I supposed I would just have to see him in action to understand.

The other three Grigoric squad members had packed into the middle seat. Two of them were brothers, Amar and Roshan. Not twins, but close enough, until they spoke or moved. Amar was loud, abrasive, and more than a little cocky. I had guessed correctly that he was a Force Agent. According to what I’d heard, telekinetics had a reputation for being the nastiest of the Grigori. Amar seemed to have an “untouchable” attitude draped over his shoulders like a mantle of entitlement, and I thought it was probably Force Agents like him who gave us such a bad rap. His brother couldn’t be more opposite. You hardly noticed soft-spoken Roshan there next to Amar. Of course, as a Mirage Agent, Amar’s shadow would be the safest place for Roshan to hide — a perfect tandem partnership.

Katya, the other Force Agent in Esmond’s squad, sat directly in front of me. Despite being taller than everyone but Seth and Julian, she’d been relegated to the far corner to give the men some room. As she’d climbed into the car and rolled her eyes, she’d met my smile in a fleeting moment of female camaraderie. Now she rocked her head gently to her iPod, short brown ponytail bouncing. Every few minutes, she would crack something in her body — fingers, wrists, neck, shoulders — things that shouldn’t crack. From anyone else, it would have been gross, or annoying, but Katya made it menacing and cool at the same time.

The drive passed in silence, unless you counted telepathy. The Agents pooled all of their surface level thoughts together, with no need for words. For me, it was nonsense, exhausting to keep up with, and motion-sickness inducing. But the rest of Esmond’s team sat like robots, the picture of calm. I had no doubt the ability served them well when running missions and working cooperatively, but it still felt awkward as hell to have everyone else’s thoughts lapping at my mind. After trying to keep up with it for a while, I decided to conserve my mental energy and ignored the whispering until it faded to background static.

As my thoughts rested away from the clamor of the other Agents, my nerves steadily rose to the surface. Butterflies did kamikaze rolls in my stomach when I let myself think about what we were attempting.

Especially
because it was my gung-ho idea.

We had a plan, but a lot of it depended on Julian’s sources being reliable — a gamble, given recent events. I wanted to save Andreas. I wanted to see Julian’s faith restored. But I didn’t want it to cost more lives. Esmond and Julian had both assured me everything was under control, that they were both well-equipped and prepared for the mission. But for some reason, the two of them agreeing on anything made me very wary to accept things at face value.

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into. This is not a game.

Julian was responsible for navigating our group into the complex and getting us back out. Esmond’s specialty in the areas of penetrating people’s minds coupled with Julian’s intel would hopefully be our park-wide pass.

Still, even knowing Esmond and Roshan’s powers shrouded us from the perception of the armed guards at the outer gate of the facility, my butterflies dipped and dove and swirled.

Seth’s window rolled down, and the guard peered into the car. I stiffened when it seemed like he looked right at Carl. The three of us in the back froze. The guard blinked and looked away, as if a one-way curtain separated us. He glanced at the ID Seth offered, handed it back, spoke into a radio, then waved us along.

If it’s this easy, why isn’t the war over?
I cast the thought out into the Grigoric pool.

Esmond’s answer bobbed to the surface.
They’re not expecting a Grigoric Squad here. Why would we try to liberate our own enemies?

Good point
, I thought. Though it did little to reassure me.

Seth pulled around to the back of an out-of-the-way storage warehouse and parked. We emptied the van, the Grigoric Agents moving like a single unit, sharing thoughts in a burr of chatter that made me shake my head to keep it clear.

Julian stopped in front of Carl and me with a hand clapped on each of our shoulders. His eyes glinted in the dark like cold, placid pools of warning. “Whatever happens tonight, both of you listen to me. Do not question me. Do not hesitate. Got it?”

We nodded in unison.

He reached under his coat and pulled one of the many weapons he’d packed on his person and held it up between us as if not sure who to hand it to. “Know what this is?”

“A gun.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question.

“A Berretta,” Carl answered.

Julian nodded and handed him the gun. “Safety’s off.”

Carl handled it deftly, turning it and pushing buttons. I gave him a curious look as he pulled out the clip, checked it, and locked it back into place. He hinted at a smile before giving Julian his full attention again.

“Stay with Alex no matter what. Aim for their heads, or they’ll just keep coming.”

Carl nodded.

Julian sighed and turned to face Esmond.

The Grigoric leader inclined his head, looking far too amused for my comfort. “After you.”

“His cell is in the far South tunnel.” Julian nodded at the row of what looked like six caves leading into the side of the hill above us. To an outsider, they were just mines. The tall pines obscured the last one from sight. Andreas was there, if the Cabal hadn’t gotten to him already.

“Can you feel him?” I asked under my breath. Their ties as Sponsor and Dependent were old and strong, and I was eager for any reassurance that we were doing the right thing.

Julian’s jaw clenched as he pulled out another gun and armed himself, his weapons issuing a series of decided clicks. He shook his head. I sent a silent prayer up to whoever might be listening that this wasn’t all for nothing. Julian would never go for one of my ideas again — if we made it out of this one intact.

Under cover of darkness, we filed into the woods hedging the prison, trusting Roshan and Esmond to block any sound or sight of us from patrols. We climbed the mountainside, up and around to the main entrance. The shadows under the canopy of trees were so thick I could only see about five feet in front of me, which meant the others were probably totally blind. We gathered at the top edge of the trees above the cave openings and fanned out.

A couple of guards strolled right past us, kicking gravel ahead of them. I squeezed Carl’s arm with rigid fingers when the beam of a flashlight skimmed over us, but they didn’t even pause.

Julian crossed the path first, and motioned the “all-clear” to the rest of us a moment later. One by one, we dropped into the manhole he’d uncovered and found ourselves inside the Cloak’s prison facility. More like an oubliette: dirt floor, crude drainage, and the cloying smell of rot infusing the dank air. Pitch blackness. Despite appearances, it wasn’t completely low-tech. Julian warned us to stay close together as he went ahead of us disabling laser sensors.

It was almost as if he’d been planning this breakout for some time — it was going that smooth. Still, I couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. Every corner had me on pins and needles. By the time we reached the level supposedly holding Andreas, I was practically crawling out of my skin. It was
too
quiet.

“Alex,” Carl breathed a warning against my ear, “knock it off.”

A few of the Grigoric Agents echoed him, the tone of their thoughts chastising my antsy mood.

Sorry
, I mumbled telepathically.

And then all hell broke loose.

Someone to my left set off a sensor. An alarm sounded, bleating off the cinderblock walls as a red light flashed overhead. Our group scattered into the shadows, and the pool of Grigoric thoughts sucked me into it, a whirl of black and white noise that dizzied me. My flimsy shield of concentration washed away like a sandcastle at high tide. When I opened my eyes again, I saw everything through a lens of pulsing aura colors and shimmering, iridescent energy. The others babbled in my head nonsensically, though I followed their movements without having to really know where we were going or why. I dragged Carl behind me, running after the team of Agents. Esmond and Julian didn’t follow. They’d split off the other way.

Damn it
.

We skidded to a stop a few turns from where we’d tripped the alarm, everyone but me gulping for air. My Undead senses were also the first to pick up a distant snarling, growing steadily louder.

“Dogs,” I said through gritted teeth.

Katya and Amar looked at me with twin you’ve-gotta-be-kidding” expressions.

I made big “I’m serious” eyes and tilted my head to sense direction and distance. The humans held their breath and reined in their thoughts so I could focus. I listened a moment longer, and then caught the scent of sweat and leather and gunpowder. “And guards.”

“Roshan can hide us, right?” Carl said. I had to give him credit — despite his heartbeat jack-knifing through my head at twice normal speed, he kept his voice steady.

“Not from the dogs.” Katya straightened to her full six-foot-one and drew a gun from the holster at her back.

Roshan shook his head. “Not from animals, and not from so many who are looking for us.”

“Which way are they coming from?” Katya asked, cracking what sounded like every bone in her hands.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, overwhelmed. The sounds were coming from all around, and getting closer. “I can’t tell. Every way, I think.”

“Katya, you know what this means.” Amar stepped up to her chest and glared up at her.

“Yes. It means you’re afraid.” She turned away to face the empty corridor ahead.

“It means we follow Esmond’s orders.” Amar sidled in front of her. “We get Alex to safety. Seth—”

Amar didn’t finish his sentence before Seth morphed. His figure rippled, his loose-hanging skin bulging and twisting in a sickening contortion. His aura flashed brightly and then faded, almost disappearing as his body melted into a puddle of brownish-black ooze.

“That’s just wrong,” I said, before I could edit myself. My initial read on Seth was right —creepy. It reminded me of the formless ooze I had been when I first dreamt of the Grigori. I repressed a shudder.

Amar appeared beside me, clamping his hand around my arm. “Let’s not alert them to
exactly
where we are. Seth is our get-away, got it?”

Carl and I exchanged matching wide-eyed looks, but I nodded.

“This mission is a disaster,” Amar spat. “All for a useless fucking Undead.”

I didn’t know if he meant me or Andreas, but I yanked myself out of his grip and glared at him. Roshan hovered just over his brother’s shoulder, shifting his weight anxiously.

The barking sounded closer.

“We are getting out of here,” Amar announced, clamping onto my wrist. He nodded to Roshan and started to move in the opposite direction of Katya.

As we rounded the bend, I planted my feet. Try as he may, Amar couldn’t make me budge. I was simply stronger, and Carl anchored me on the other side, his anxiety spiking the air with the sweet scent of crushed greenery. “I’m not going anywhere without Julian.”

You wanna see useless?

“Don’t make me force you.” Amar’s eyes darkened to black holes under the ridge of his stubborn brow. His anxiety smelled like garlic and sage, and it suffused my senses as it grew. The mingling aura he seemed to share with Roshan flared a lime green when the clomping of boots echoed from about a hundred yards away.

“Alex?” Carl squeezed my hand.

“You’re going to run away and let Katya fight alone?” I yanked my arm back from the spineless Force Agent. “We
Undead
have more loyalty than that.”

Roshan took hold of his brother’s shoulder as Amar snarled at me, looking ready to unleash his powers on the most convenient target. Behind us, a series of yelps and whimpers sounded, followed by staccato gunfire.

Katya had made contact.

A split second later, the two of them were running to help her.

I grabbed Carl’s hand and pulled us down yet another passage. His long legs let him keep up with me, barely. When the battle had faded to a din in my hearing, I slowed down to let Carl catch his breath. Our oh-so-carefully laid plan was in tatters, and I wasn’t about to run away and leave Julian to the proverbial wolves. He could be cornered. He could need my help. Where was he?

“Christ, how big is this place?” Carl grabbed at a stitch in his side, panting.

I ignored him and reached out with every sense I had, focused on only one thing: Julian.

I am
not
going to lose him this way.

Reaching out with my Undead senses, I thought I felt a very faint echo of Julian to my right. So we went right. Five minutes later, the feeling was growing stronger, and we exited into an empty corridor, bigger and longer than the others. In the swirling red of the alarm lights, I could make out the faded “Tunnel 6” painted over the opposite doorway.

“Come on.” I yanked Carl’s arm so hard he stumbled.

Just ahead, I zeroed in on the feeling I’d been hunting. It was still faint, and unease chilled me when I saw we’d come to the end of the tunnel. All the passages around us were sealed with steel doors. My target was coming from behind a solid wall, inside one of the cells. So much for my Undead hunting senses.

Carl searched for a handle or lock, and I wondered if I could be feeling Julian from another tunnel, on the other side of the wall.

Where are you Jules?

“There’s someone in there,” Carl said, “listen.”

A dull thud barely rattled the steel door under his ear, and Carl leapt backwards. Hope surged through me, an instant power-up.