Foretold Page 21

  I flush. Theodore asked me last week why I always wear black, so today I tried to change it up. It’s only a blue T-shirt, but somehow I feel more vulnerable wearing anything other than my usual armor.

  “You’ll be looking down at that water’s edge soon enough, right? When’s the big trip to Alaska? Next month?” Regan asks, propelling herself up onto his desk counter to sit.

  “It surely is.”

  “What’s your mom saying? Does she suspect?” I ask.

  “Oh, she gave me guff just yesterday. ‘I haven’t seen you in fifteen years.’ ‘You’re my only blood.’ ‘A good son would come and seen their momma before she keels over.’” He shakes his head. “That woman is healthy as an ox. She’ll outlive me. But she’s right, life passes you by while you’re busy trying to make a living. I can’t believe I haven’t laid eyes on her in fifteen years. She’s going to be bowled over when she sees this ugly mug.”

  I smile, the effort weighing on me. “I’m really happy for you. You’ll have a blast.”

  His white whiskers shift, and although they cover his mouth, I can tell the shift is a smile. “Five, five, five today, ladies.”

  I set our gift down on the desk.

  “What happened to your hand?” he asks me.

  I flex my fingers. They still ache from Mrs. O’s ritual. “Little accident. Don’t worry. Not sure if you’ve ever had cupcakes from Tatiana’s, but they’re incredible. We picked you up some on our way in… for your birthday…”

  Theodore’s sleep-slackened features clear like the sun chasing away rain clouds. His eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. “I don’t know what to say. How did you know?”

  Bacchy’s intel was right. Regan and I grin at each other.

  “Don’t worry about it. Just enjoy,” I say.

  “But we’ll need a full report on which one ends up being your favorite,” Regan piggybacks.

  “That’s mighty kind, girls. You got it.” Theodore’s whiskers shift-smile again, and he eagerly paws the bag open as we leave.

  “How are you getting into Fenice’s office?” Regan asks, when we’re back in the Rotunda.

  “Why do you need to get into Fenice’s office?” Griffin asks from behind us.

  We wheel around, my face surely reflecting my horror and Regan’s a mask of fury.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard.” Griffin grins. “Because I was eavesdropping.”

  I grab him by the arm and drag him to a relatively quiet corner of the Rotunda away from the Magpie carts.

  “Don’t tell him!” Regan insists. “You were on the fence about telling Noah and he’s way closer to you than Griffin.”

  “I’m not a snitch, Roland,” Griffin retorts, looking offended. “And me and Cassie are tight…ish. So, what’s the deal with Fenice’s office?"

  I make the decision to tell Griffin, hoping I won’t regret it, and swear him to secrecy. I spare no details about Colin and his situation, or my need for what is in Ms. Fenice’s office.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier to just find a new boyfriend?” he asks.

  “What is your damage?” Regan asks.

  “It’s a joke!”

  I spot Bacchy near the fountain and leave Griffin and Regan bickering to follow him to his cart. Bacchy dumps his pitcher of water into Betsy’s new, larger aquarium. He smiles fondly at the turtle and pulls on his beard. “That’s the last of it, Betsy. Ah, Cassie! Didn’t see you there. How are you today?”

  “I’m okay, Bacchy. Weird day. Hoping you can help me. I need to get my hands on a book…” I pull the translucent eye Madame Grey gave me from my pocket, holding it up.

  “Oh, that’s a nice evil eye amulet,” Bacchy says, plucking it from me to inspect. “What are you looking to trade for? You still have a spot of credit with me even with the favor you cashed in, you know?”

  “No, I was wondering—”

  The explosion lifts me off my feet and throws me. A burst of pain follows. I grab at my hip. Screams erupt, but they’re muted behind the ringing in my ears. I look around, dazed. There’s a gaping hole where the fake elevator door entrance used to be. A dozen people in business suits are stepping through that hole and pulling weapons out of briefcases and jackets.

  The stone in front of me pops, sending dust and bits of rock flying. I stare at it and cower against the side of the fountain when I realize what the pop was: gunfire. I can’t see Regan and Griffin. Another explosion hits. I cover my head. More shots ring out. You’re okay, okay, okay…

  I stand and take off running, stopping when I see Bacchy on the ground, bleeding badly from a cut above his eye. I pull him up and he stands, confused, and immediately bolts, not even looking to see who helped him to his feet. The panicking crowds shove and shout. Someone pushes me, and I lose my footing. I go down hard on my hip—second time now. It stings. I whimper and roll to my knees. It’s raining. Something stings my arm. Glass. It’s raining glass from the dome.

  “Go!” a woman, one of the attackers, shouts. “Move before the guards—”

  Our guards return fire. The smell of gunpowder and smoke stings my nose. A man rolls a grenade, and it comes to a stop right in front of me. I take off running again. I cover my head when I hear the explosion, the screams. Another blast sounds a moment later, followed by a rumble of thunder.

  Not thunder. The big mechanical zodiac wheel from atop the fountain rolls past me, freed of its moorings.

  Theban guards pour into the Rotunda and I push past, trying to get through. I’m not the only one. We run headlong into a dead end, corralled by our own fear.

  I need a place to hide. Protection. Away. We’re too far away from the dorms. Pict. I need to get to Pict’s office. If anyone would know what to do… I look around, desperate to get to him. You’re okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.

  An explosion goes off in front of me. The boy next to me screams as a hunk of rock barrels into his leg, breaking it.

  “The Rotunda has been breached. I repeat, the Rotunda has been breached,” a guard calls into his earpiece as he rushes past. “Get to the Coil. All scryers get to the Coil.”

  I run on, close behind a pack of older scryers, but hesitate to cross into the Coil with the others. Instead, I look around, recognizing the space around me. Ford’s classroom and the Magpies who are guarding him are right down—

  The corridor is empty. Where are the Magpies? There are legs in the doorway to Ford’s classroom. I approach, dread compounding with each step. I push the door open slightly.

  Ford’s eyes are open, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing. There’s a small hole in his forehead; a stream of red has run from it, painting his nose. I scream, the sound culled from the depths of my gut. I scream again and again and stumble, falling backwards, then scrambling to my feet. I run to the elevators, shaking.

  Think. Breathe.

  I clamp my jaw shut to force myself to stop screaming.

  I hear rumbling, and another explosion. Close.

  The elevator doors open.

  “Stop! Don’t take another step!” someone shouts. Heavy footsteps sound behind me. I glance back, and my whole body goes cold—it’s a woman, one of the business suit-clad attackers, and she’s holding the scope of a long weapon up to her goggle-covered eye. That long black nozzle is trained on me. I raise my hands up, slowly, still facing the elevator.

  She approaches, weapon pointed at my back. “Turn around slowly. Don’t make any sudden—” I turn. “—Cassandra!” she says, lowering her weapon.

  Her hair is at an angle on her head: a wig. White blonde hair peeks out from beneath it. She removes her goggles. Pale eyes, so pale at first glance it looks like they’re devoid of irises.

  I draw in a sharp breath.

  Shouts sound, gunfire. Madame Grey falls back, firing. Two guards race through the doorway. A shot hits Madame Grey in the side of the chest, sending her reeling. I reach for her, even while I grapple with the fact that she’s responsible for this. She retreats, seekin
g cover, returning fire.

  I dive into the elevator and reach up to slap at the floor numbers on the panel. A man tumbles in before the doors close. As the elevator jerks upward, I fall back against the bar behind me, trying to get away from him, ready to kick out. But it’s not one of them. It’s Sebastian. His chest is heaving, his shirt torn and bloodied at the neck.

  He looks up at me, his eyes a fierce hunter green before they soften with concern. “Cassie? Are you—you’re bleeding!”

  I look down. A gash on my arm I didn’t even feel suddenly hurts like hell. I’m dripping blood on the floor. The doors open on a random floor, but I just stand there looking at my arm until they close again.

  “I’m okay.” I hold my hand to the cut. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

  “No, you’re not okay. Here…” He reaches for me, but I pull at his collar, stopping him and exposing his neck and shoulder.

  “You’re bleeding, too,” I say, my touch a butterfly’s breath on the area above the wound. He’s very still except for his heavy breathing. I use the collar of his shirt to wipe the blood away, exposing a long scratch. He seizes my hand in his and opens his mouth to speak when his ICARUSS chimes. He pulls it out of his pocket and glances at it. “Shit, I have to… Come with me.” He stands and helps me up before pressing a button, and the elevator starts up again. It opens on a floor I’ve never seen.

  “Sebastian,” I say, my voice quavering. I'm not actually sure what will come out, there's so much information queuing at my brain's gate to get out. “Ford is dead.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sebastian stares intently into my eyes.

  “I saw him. Shot. He was… his eyes were open. His eyes were open!” I shout it again. “His eyes were open. His eyes were open. His eyes were open.” I clamp a hand over my mouth. Tears spilling over, my body quaking.

  “Cassie.” He grabs me and pulls me into his arms, holding me. “It’s okay. You’re just… shhhhh.” I bury my face in his neck. I hear him curse under his breath as he runs his hand down my hair. His ICARUSS chime sounds again and he pulls away. “I’m so sorry, we have to go. This way. Hurry.” He leads me down a dark corridor. A short walk later and he’s pressing his ID onto a panel next to an unassuming doorway. The doors open to an octagon-shaped room that looks like NASA mission control on steroids.

  I wipe at my eyes and my nose and gape at a wide, transparent glass cylinder that runs from the floor to the high arching ceiling. On it, news broadcasts from all over the world, in every conceivable language. Images of rockets being fired and overflowing hospitals flash. Most in the room are ignoring the news pillar, instead huddled behind a bank of clear, curving monitors on the far side of the room.

  Sebastian pushes his way through the crowd. “There’s a world to watch. Everybody, get back to your stations. You have jobs to do.” The group disperses and hurries to their seats. Sebastian turns to a tall young man. “Sean, I need someone to help Cassie here.” Then, to the room at large, “Who’s on Bedlam watch?”

  A young girl raises her hand. “I am. Darvis and Celia, too.”

  “Darvis, Celia, and Vex, come here.”

  I get the feeling he’s forgotten about me, so I melt back a few steps. The boy named Sean commands me to sit and breaks out a first aid kit. I flinch as he washes my wound and watch as Sebastian settles in front of the monitors. Six different screens hop and skip through video snippets of what look like… yes, it’s our city. I see the Middle Eastern restaurant down the block on one screen.

  “What’s the delay with these feeds?” he asks the girl named Vex.

  “None. We’re live. Real time. Bedlam split up as soon as they hit the street. We’re still looking for the others, but we managed to track one. This is the feed from Commander Terner’s body cam.”

  “Bring it up on the big screen,” Sebastian says.

  He stands and walks to the middle of the room, next to the glass pillar. The images on the cylinder change, depicting a man in a suit from behind—running fast, purposely pushing people so they become obstacles for his pursuers. We hear the huffing of Commander Terner’s breath and the jostling of his body cam. The man ducks down an alley, out of the view for just a moment before Terner turns the corner after him.

  Dead end.

  Terner and the rest of his team approach the man slowly, weapons drawn, shouting for him to surrender. When the man in the suit realizes he is well and truly trapped, he turns around slowly, facing the camera, hatred burning in his eyes.

  I press my hands to my face as everything inside me skates to a stop. It’s Oscar.

  “Down on the ground! Get down on the ground!” one of the guards shouts.

  Oscar raises his hands slowly and sinks to his knees.

  “Where are the others?” another guard asks.

  Oscar smiles, taunting. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Where are they?” the guard shouts again.

  “Patch me in to Terner. Now,” Sebastian says.

  “Commander Terner, Sebastian Welborne for you,” a guy next to me says into an earpiece. Then he runs to hand off his earpiece to Sebastian, who pulls it on and holds the small microphone to his mouth.

  “Commander Terner, turn on your speaker. I have something to say to the Bedlamite.”

  Terner presses something on his chest. “Ready for you, sir.”

  “This is Sebastian Welborne—” Sebastian says.

  Oscar hoots, laughing out loud. “Welborne’s little whelp? Too scared to come down yourself?”

  “You’re surrounded. Be reasonable and tell us where we can find the others.”

  “Why? You pigs at Theban know everything, right? Or you will, soon. But that’s not the goal. It’s not enough to know everything. Your daddy wants a world in chains, but he don’t want a world that knows it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sebastian says evenly.

  “You still think he’s a hero.” Oscar looks around him, but doesn’t address the guards. He’s talking to us in this room. “Hey! If you’re watching this in there, all you stupid cogs in Welborne’s machine, you’re being used. He’s taking out anyone who—”

  “Shut your mouth!” one of the guards says, smacking the butt of his weapon into Oscar’s face.

  I blanch, my palms flying to cover my own.

  Oscar cradles his jaw, but then looks back up at the guard, offering a red-wet smile. “Death comes quickly and respects no one.”

  My blood freezes in my veins. I remember those words, whispered alongside mention of the red blessing in Pict’s office. My words.

  Oscar spits a gob of blood onto the officer’s feet. “Goodbye, Narisa. I’m going to our baby. I’m going to Mariela.” Then he bites into the shoulder of his jacket.

  Shouts from the officers erupt. Oscar’s body starts to jerk and he falls to the ground, foaming at the mouth.

  “No!” I shout. A wash of dread spreads over me as Oscar’s struggles come to a stop, his eyes wide and blank in death. Like Ford’s.

  An officer kneels and looks up at the camera. “Beladyne pill in the lining of his lapel. I should’ve checked…” He kicks at Oscar’s body.

  “Enough,” Sebastian snaps. “We don’t desecrate bodies. Go search for the others.”

  “What about him?” The guard gestures toward Oscar’s body.

  “No use bringing him back here, he won’t have anything useful on him. Just find the others.”

  From my chair, I can see a woman walking up to Sebastian with a clenched fist. “They jammed ICARUSS with this.” Her hand opens: she’s holding the evil eye that Madame Grey gave me.

  Oh God. My knees nearly buckle. My fault. I suspected, but the confirmation is… Shame and regret war within me.

  I am so stupid. How could I be so—?

  “What is it?” Sebastian asks.

  “We’re not sure yet. Jammer sensor picked it up. Whatever’s inside this thing took down our defenses the minute it crossed
the Rotunda threshold. Blocked our ability to see this coming. Might be an inside job.”

  Sebastian takes it and looks it over. I avoid eye contact, as if my guilt is tattooed across the whites of my own eyes. I notice a glass room off to the side for the first time. Scrolling words and numbers are projected onto the back wall. The phrase “hollyhound crumble” jumps out at me, and I realize I’m staring at a ritual. It finishes scrolling, and a new one called “election outcomes” begins.

  My chest hammers. I look down at my ICARUSS, quickly typing the same phrase into my phone’s ritual search while Sebastian and the others debate the eye’s meaning. “No such ritual,” my ICARUSS reads. But I’m seeing it right now.

  She may have lied about not wanting to hurt anyone, she may have lied to use me, but Madame Grey didn’t lie about this. Welborne isn’t sharing all his rituals. There has to be a reason, though. Maybe…

  “Let’s take a walk, Cassie,” Sebastian says. He’s standing in front of me. I didn't notice him finishing his conversation, walking over. I let him pull me along, glancing back at that room.

  “That man. The one who died. He was…” I stutter.

  “He was one of the people who attacked us today. He won’t be bothering anyone again.”

  “What was he talking about? The stuff about changing things? A world in chains?” I ask. Fearing I know the answer.

  A muscle jumps in Sebastian’s cheek. “Bedlam will say anything. Their whole goal is chaos. No rules. No oversight. No repercussions. You can’t trust a word they say.”

  I learned that lesson too late. And what about the next lesson? Can I can trust Theban Group? Can I trust Sebastian?

  Chapter 20

  It’s been two days since the attack. Two days of going to sleep picturing Oscar’s unseeing eyes and waking up having dreamt of Ford’s dead stare.

  My insides clench. In my mind’s eye, I see Theodore’s sweet Santa-whiskered face smiling over a birthday cupcake.

  I killed my friend. I’m the reason Theodore’s mother won’t be seeing her son ever again. Fifteen years becomes forever. I choke on my misery.