The Sight (19 page)

“You weren't very good at running away the night we met,” he said with the hint of a smile.

And wasn't that a perfect and depressing metaphor?

“If I'd made it out of the store,” I said, “I'd have disappeared, and you'd never have seen me again.” I meant it as a joke, but the thought—the possibility our paths wouldn't have crossed—made my chest ache with sadness.

Liam ran a hand through his hair, looked back at the stairway, toward the grandmother who needed him. I could see the dilemma in his eyes. That he cared that much about me—that he was torn—meant a lot.

“She needs you more than I do right now.”

Liam looked back at me, eyes wide with surprise.

“It's okay,” I said. “Stay with her until you're sure she's safe.”

Something deep stirred in his eyes. “Be
canaille
.”

I lifted my eyebrows at the word I didn't recognize.

“Careful,” he said with a sly smile. “Sneaky. Quiet as a mouse.”

I'd lived alone in the French Quarter for nearly seven years. I knew how to be invisible.

—

I walked quickly and quietly back to the gate, passing Containment's fire brigade, which shot water at the storage building while Gunnar
and Reece looked on. Warm rain began to fall as soon as I made it outside the fence, lifting the scents of swamp, water, and smoke into the air.

The rain kept people indoors, so I crept alone through the Quarter. By the time I got back to the store, the rain had stopped and I was drenched, but I hadn't seen a single other person.

Gavin stood on a ladder in front of the store in jeans and a
WHO DAT
? T-shirt, futzing with something on the underside of the wrought-iron balcony. The bruise around his eye had begun to turn that ironically sickly green of healing.

“Are you breaking my place?”

He made an amused sound. “Your manager asked me to take a look at the bracket. She said the balcony squeaked in this corner, had a little give. I'm making sure the ironwork is still in good shape.” He adjusted something with a wrench, climbed down the ladder, used a corner of his T-shirt to dry his sweaty face. Beneath it, I'm happy to report, his body was as fantastic as his brother's.

“And is it?”

“This one is. Bolts needed a little tweaking, but it's fine.” His expression went serious. “You want to tell me what happened out there?”

I told him about Eleanor, about the attack, and our possible next steps.

“You haven't talked to our friends yet.”

I shook my head. “We were supposed to meet at noon. We missed the meeting.”

He nodded. “Go when Liam comes. I'll stay here.”

“I appreciate it. She means a lot to me, as does the store.”

“It's no problem. I mean, I'd rather be out there mixing it up, using my considerable strength.” He flexed an impressive biceps. “But one does what one must do.”

I put a hand on his arm, squeezed supportively, and appreciated his good humor. “Your sacrifice is noted.”

He was chuckling when he moved the ladder down to the next bracket.

Inside, the store was dark, the new-to-me air conditioner silent. Unlike in Devil's Isle, which had some kind of special generators that weren't affected by my magic fluctuations, the power was out here, and heat and humidity had begun to collect in the store.

Tadji stood behind the counter, finishing up an order for a customer. I waited until she was done, then told her what had happened.

“I'm glad Eleanor and Moses are okay.” She glanced at the agents who came in the door, headed to the rack of walking sticks, joked around about which one they'd buy.

Tadji leaned closer. “Is he thinking about getting her out of there?” she whispered.

“He is. Has some convincing to do,” I said, opting not to mention Moses until there was a possibility we'd be able to pull off an escape. No point in dragging her into possible treason yet.

Because dragging her into treason after that would be fine?
I wondered ruefully.

“You should get out of those clothes,” she said, and plucked at her own shirt. “It's humid enough in here.”

I took her advice and, when I reached the bedroom, let my soaked clothes fall heavily to the floor. I pulled out another T-shirt and jeans, hung the wet ones up to dry.

When I went downstairs again, I found a new shipment of boxes on the table in the back room. I wanted some quiet, and some thinking time. Unpacking stock was the perfect way to deal with that.

I pushed open the curtains and opened the windows. There wasn't much of a breeze through the back courtyard, but at least the
air circulated. By the light of the open window, I began opening boxes.

I lost myself in work, counting soap and lightbulbs to ensure their numbers matched our invoices, restocking the shelves, breaking down the boxes for recycling when I was done.

I put aside a bag of sea salt for Lizzie. I could take it to her in the morning, when I walked willingly into the Devil's Isle clinic again. Nervous as I was about going, it was hardly a sacrifice for someone with freedom.

The shadows and light on the floor shifted as I worked, time slipping past. When the store quieted, Tadji came back, looked at the empty boxes I'd stacked, then at me. “Are you okay?”

I stopped, hands on the corners of a box, and looked back at her. “I'm tired. Emotionally, mentally.”

She crossed her arms, nodded. “Yeah. I feel the same. And I think Burke does, too.”

I cocked my head at her. “How is Burke?”

“Right now, trying to keep his people safe—the caravans that travel through the Zone, the agents who work in Devil's Isle. Frustrated that he can't do more. But I don't think that's what you meant,” she said, leaned against the edge of the table. “We're taking it slowly. Very, very slowly.”

“Because you aren't sure of him?”

“Because I'm not sure of anything right now. Because he's not in my five-year plan.”

I smiled at her. “In fairness, neither was retail.”

“Right?” She paused. “I'm still not sure if this is a long-term thing. I guess I thought there'd be timpani drums, and I'm not hearing any timpani drums.” She looked at me with speculation in her dark eyes. “Not like I imagine you hear.”

“They are drums of sadness and despair,” I said, breaking down the box and putting it in the pile. “So don't feel left out.”

She shrugged. “I don't know. I just kind of assumed that when the big-time love happened, I'd get the timpani drums and the orchestra and the chorus.”

“What do you get?”

Her brow furrowed as she considered. “I don't know. I like spending time with him. I'd say we're friends.”

“It's only been a few weeks. Maybe something more can grow.”

She nodded. “Or maybe it can't. And for Miss Type A, that uncertainty kills me.”

I smiled. “Yeah, waiting it out isn't really your style.”

“Maybe we should do one of those friendship pacts. If we're still alone in fifteen years, we marry each other, settle down.”

I looked her up and down. “I could do worse.”

She rolled her eyes.

“When Liam gets here, we're going to meet our friends. Gavin can stay, but it might be safer if you go home, out of the Quarter. Once word spreads about the attack, there probably won't be many people shopping anyway.”

“Then maybe we need to change that.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

Tadji shrugged. “I don't know. I've been thinking—it's like we're letting Reveillon set the pace. Tell us how to live in our city, how our city should be run. I think we should fight back.”

She held up a hand when I started to argue. “I don't mean with weapons. That's not my gig, and I don't want it to be. I mean in terms of presence. Maybe it's time we set the pace. We should get people into the Quarter. To live, to talk. To watch for these cowards who think genocide is the solution to their problems. Maybe, if we're out
there, if we're engaged in our city, we screw up their plans a little.” She lifted a shoulder. “Just an idea.”

“I think that's a really good idea.”

She brightened. “Really?”

“Girl, you know you're brilliant. It's not your first good idea. And yeah, I think you're right. I think they're capitalizing on fear, on our memories of war. But if we stay home, if we stay inside, we help them win. It's a lot easier for them to march down an empty Bourbon Street than one that's full of people.”

She nodded decisively. “Since you're on board, I'm going to make some signs for the windows, spread the word.” She grinned. “I could probably just tell Mrs. Proctor and let her do the rest. The woman does not hold back information.”

“No, she doesn't. You want information to spread, she'd be a good vector.”

Liam appeared in the doorway, glanced at Tadji, at me.

“Hey,” Tadji said. “How's Eleanor?”

“Resting comfortably,” Liam said. “Thanks for asking.”

She nodded.

“Did you get any information about the other attacks?” I asked.

“There were two others,” he said. “One fugitive started the fire, two were at Eleanor's, and two more attacked humans. One of Lizzie's nurses lives on the north side of the prison. She was shot, but she'll be fine. One civilian volunteer was inside Devil's Isle, leading a literacy class. She was killed.”

“They kill indiscriminately,” Tadji said.

Liam nodded. “They've apparently decided everyone not in their group is supporting Containment, and therefore an enemy, a traitor.”

“At least they've gotten all five fugitives contained now,” Tadji said.

Liam nodded. “Assuming the original count was correct, yeah. If
Containment miscalculated—and there was a lot of chaos during the blast; the cameras were toast—there are more waiting for another opportunity.”

“We need to get to our meeting,” I said.

“How long has the power been out?”

Tadji glanced at the wall clock. “About an hour and a half.”

Liam blew out a breath. “If the power doesn't come back, we'll be walking.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do try to keep Claire injury free for once,” Tadji said, walking into the store again.

“You say that like I have any control over what she does,” Liam called out over his shoulder, then looked at me.

“I'm getting Eleanor out tomorrow, one way or another, and whether she wants it or not. But she won't leave without Moses, and he won't leave her side.”

“Loyalty goes a long way,” I said. “So we better figure out a way to help both of them.”

W
e had to wait another half hour for the power to come back, for Liam to be able to start the truck. Enough time to unpack the rest of the stock, add the boxes to the recycling pile in the alley for Containment pickup. And let the pain in my ankle dissipate.

When the lights buzzed on again, we drove to the church, parked up the block to keep Containment patrols, Reveillon, or anyone else from getting suspicious about vehicles outside a seemingly abandoned church.

The rain had cleared, leaving the western sky brushed with brilliant streaks of orange and pink, like paint carefully daubed across a canvas. The neighborhood was quiet and Reveillon free.

We knocked on the door and were admitted by Burke. He nodded, waited until we were inside, then closed the door firmly, snapped new locks closed behind us. Someone had moved chairs and a table into one side of the room and lit taper candles in tall brass candlesticks.

Erida stood near the table, arms crossed. She wore white trousers and a sleeveless top in the same fabric, her long hair waving over tan shoulders. She looked effortlessly beautiful—the kind of woman who was gorgeous enough to have stepped off a movie set.

Her gaze slipped to me, and again there was something unpleasant in her eyes. It disappeared quickly, but it was definitely there.
That made two times this woman I'd never met before had given me some Solomon-worthy stink eye. If circumstances had been different, I might have asked her about it. But I wasn't going to waste time trying to prove myself to a woman I didn't even know.

A door opened, closed again, and Darby appeared in the back doorway, followed by Malachi. His wings were already hidden, and he was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a slim running jacket in a slick fabric. Burke wore his fatigues and looked tired and a little demoralized. Even Darby, who was smartly dressed in cuffed jeans and a boatneck shirt that fit her Marilyn Monroe–meets-librarian style, seemed to have lost her usual perkiness.

“I guess we don't need to apologize for being late,” Liam said as we walked to the table.

“We're all late,” Burke said. “You were at Devil's Isle?”

Liam nodded.

“I told them what happened,” Burke said. “We've been helping the Joint Ops team search for Reveillon's main camp, if there is one.”

“Technically,” Darby said, pulling off a Loyola cap and ruffling her dark hair, “Burke has been helping. I'm just secretly along for the ride, since I'm still persona non grata as far as Containment is concerned.”

“You find anything?” Liam asked.

Burke shook his head. “There are more signs around town, more painted-over billboards. No obvious settlements.”

“So they're scattered,” Liam said.

“That would be my guess. Probably all across the city—they can spread out Containment's response that way, wreak havoc over a larger area.” Burke looked at Malachi. “You have any better luck?”

We all looked at Malachi, and I only just realized the grim set of his features.

“What's wrong?” I asked quietly, but he looked at Erida, kept his eyes on her face.

Malachi pulled off his jacket, revealing a bloody stain on his T-shirt that still looked fresh.

“Oh my God!” Darby said, running forward. “What happened? I mean, other than the fact that you've been shot,” she added at his dry look.

“I encountered a herd of them. A dozen young humans, all male, some with guns. They wore street clothes but made their Reveillon chants. They roamed the neighborhood like vigilantes looking for their presumptive traitors.”

“You engaged them,” I said while Darby went into the back room.

Malachi looked at me. “I did.”

“Was that a wise decision?” Liam asked.

Malachi slid his gaze to Liam, and there was nothing especially friendly in it. “In my position, what would you have done?”

Since they were both as alpha as they came, Liam inclined his head, acknowledging the point.

Darby rushed back in, first-aid kit in hand. “Let me take a look at that. Shirt off.”

“It just grazed me,” he said. “That's unnecessary.”

When Darby just stared at him, Malachi pulled the T-shirt over his head.

I wondered if Liam was aware that he'd moved incrementally closer, as if there was a real risk I'd jump on Malachi when his shirt came off. His body, while perfectly honed, wasn't the surprise. It was the scars across his chest and abdomen, where it looked like he'd been slashed or burned over and over again.

Consularis Paras had been forced to fight. Malachi had told us he'd been able to overcome the compulsion, but not before waging some war. I wondered if those scars were from that fighting, or because of his time in the Beyond.

Darby didn't seem surprised by them but moved him closer to the candlelight, made him sit on the edge of the table.

“I could turn the overhead lights on?” I offered.

“Better if they're off,” Burke said. “It attracts less attention, which seems better.”

“I can manage,” Darby said, frowning as she used snips to trim a piece of gauze. “Not my first rodeo.”

I guessed we all had our war experiences.

“So, what happened with the humans?” Erida asked as Darby worked.

Malachi's expression remained stony. “I attempted to teach them manners and fair play. Most of them scattered when they realized it wasn't going to be a fair fight.” He smiled, but the look was more scary than joyous. “I left a few unconscious, so I activated the magic monitor and left them for Containment.”

“Nice,” Liam said, and this time Malachi did the inclining.

“So, what's the plan?” Darby asked, closing the kit when she'd finished bandaging Malachi's wound. “We can't just stand around and watch them destroy the Zone.”

“We actually have a request,” Liam said. “Two of the Reveillon fugitives attacked Eleanor and Moses today; they think she's a Sensitive. Which means Ezekiel thinks she's a Sensitive.”

“They'll try for her again,” Burke said, and Liam nodded.

“Eleanor won't leave Devil's Isle without Moses. So we need your help. We need to break him out of Devil's Isle.”

—

The church was absolutely silent.

“You want to break a Paranormal out of Devil's Isle?” Darby asked.

“Yes,” Liam said. “Moses. She won't leave without him. He wants to go. So . . .”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Malachi asked.

“That's partly why we're here,” I said. “We were hoping you'd help us.”

Silence hung heavily in the room.

“You're talking about treason,” Burke said quietly. “I shouldn't be hearing this. I mean, I'm not going to leave. Not when it's getting interesting. But I shouldn't be hearing it.”

“I hear you,” I said, and I looked around the room. “Each of us is a potential prisoner. Burke and I, because we're Sensitives. Malachi, because he's Consularis. All of us because we're sympathizers, because we've worked and communicated with Paras, helped them. We could all be arrested right now—so let's not pretend this is the first time we've broken the law. And let's not use that as an excuse.”

I looked at Burke. Every Sensitive had a unique power. I could move things. Burke could make himself invisible. “Could you escort Moses out using your invisibility? I mean, make him invisible, so he basically walks out of Devil's Isle?”

Burke frowned, shook his head. “The magic makes me invisible, not anyone else. And I'd set off the magic monitors.”

“But your clothes disappear,” I pointed out. “They aren't inherently magic.” Quite the opposite, since they were Containment fatigues.

“They become part of me, is my understanding of the magic. The problem is, I can't expand the magic beyond that to encompass someone else.”

“Perhaps you could do something about that.” We all looked at Erida, who was watching Malachi. Then we all looked at Malachi.

“Could you?” I asked, and thought of our practice at Algiers Point, the way he'd used his magic to make that pinecone heavier.
“Enhance Burke's magic? Magnify it so we can make someone else invisible, too?”

He frowned. “I've never tried to apply it to a Sensitive's power before.” He looked at Burke, considered. “If I was close enough, and we moved quickly enough.”

“How quickly?” Liam asked.

“Minutes?” Malachi suggested. “He's still a Sensitive. We don't want to overexpose a Sensitive to magic.”

Burke crossed his arms, worried his lip with two fingers. We'd all play our parts, but Burke would be taking a big risk. After a time, he looked at Malachi. “We'd have to try it out. Make sure this could actually work.”

“I have no objection to that,” Malachi said.

“Okay,” Burke said. “But that still doesn't address the monitors. If they go off, Containment will close the gate, and none of us will be going anywhere.”

“I think we can deal with the monitors,” I said, and glanced at Liam. “Moses is very, very good with electronics.”

“A lot of moving pieces,” Darby said. “You have to turn the monitors off. Malachi has to be in the right place to affect Burke. Burke has to concentrate on his magic.”

“We could take Eleanor at the same time,” Liam said. “That way, Claire and I are with you just in case something happens.”

“And if we manage to pull it off?” Burke asked. “To get them out. What then?”

I looked at Malachi. “When Containment first established Devil's Isle, started moving Paras into the prisons, I bet you had a way to get Consularis Paras out of the city and into the bayous.”

Malachi watched me carefully for a moment. “There were routes to be followed.”

“Then we use that tactic here. If it's what they want to do, we could move him—or both of them—from one way station to the next. We could use Royal Mercantile, since it's the closest stop to the prison. Then Royal Mercantile to here.”

“To the bayous,” Liam said, nodding. “That's a possibility. There's the cabin at Bayou Teche. I haven't been there in years, but it's a possibility. There'd need to be arrangements. Her medical care, getting supplies to them.”

“We have mechanisms for supply drops,” Malachi said. “If Moses is with her, and considering her magic, there are procedures we can use. They are our people, too.” He glanced at me. “If that's what they want to do.”

Treason had never felt so good.

—

We talked for three hours. Debated, reassessed, and tried to plan for every complication, because the plan was already dangerous enough.

“Burke will meet Liam and me at Eleanor's house at noon,” I said. “That's when the guard shifts change, which gives us a little flexibility. Malachi will direct his magic from a high point outside the gate. We'll use a utility cart, drive Moses and Eleanor out of Devil's Isle and to the store, where they'll wait until the coast is clear. Gavin will drive them to the church, where Darby will be waiting.”

She nodded.

I looked at Malachi and Erida. “And you'll get them to the Quinn place at Bayou Teche.”

“We will,” Erida said.

“I haven't told Gunnar,” I said, apropos of nothing, but because it was bothering me. “I don't think I will.”

“Because you don't think he's trustworthy?” Darby asked.

“Because I know he is, and that puts him in an impossible spot. He
can't do his job and ours, too. And frankly, we'll probably need him in that spot before all this is said and done. But I'll have to tell Tadji,” I realized. “I can't take them to the store—put her in the middle—and not give her the truth.”

“She comes from a long line of trustworthy people,” Malachi said, probably thinking of Tadji's mother, who'd been instrumental in closing the Veil. “And she has a healthy fear of magic.”

“We all fear a lot of things these days,” Liam said. “And speaking of which, we should get back to the store.” He glanced at me. “I'll drop you off, and then I want to check on Eleanor and Moses, make sure the new guard has arrived.”

I nodded.

“I can meet Claire at the store,” Malachi said. “Work with her on her magic until you return.”

I wasn't sure what response Liam had expected to get, but he didn't seem thrilled by Malachi's offer.

“Don't you and Burke need to practice?” I asked.

“We do,” Burke said, rising and pushing back his chair. “But I need to make some arrangements of my own, if I'm going to be running around Devil's Isle. Actually,” he added, glancing at me, “if it's all right with Claire, we could practice in the store, since it's insulated.”

“That's fine by me,” I said. Better than fine, as it would give me the chance to watch them practice together. The more I learned about magic, the better for all of us.

“Did you want a ride back to the store?” I asked Malachi, and he shook his head, unfolded his wings. Candlelight gleamed through them, making him seem a creature of light. “I have my own means of transportation.”

He nodded at each of us, then disappeared through the back of the church.

“Does he think they won't see him?” Liam asked quietly. “Or does he want the fight?”

“Both,” Erida said. “He is who he is, and prefers not to pretend otherwise. That's why Devil's Isle is anathema to him. Containment wants Paranormals to be humans—magicless, impotent.”

Yet another reason for doing what we'd planned to do. Maybe we could start a change.

—

It was late when Liam dropped me off. Malachi already stood beneath the balcony, waiting for us, and the store was dark but for a small lamp behind the counter.

“I'll be back,” Liam said, and I wasn't sure if it was a promise or a threat.