CHAPTER 43
ightfall has wrapped the town in darkness.
I stand inside our cottage, peering through a window into theN street. Raphael is out there, and I’m mentally willing him not to get caught.
My heart speeds up, and I check my knives again—one in my boot, one hidden in a secret sheath within my sleeve, one strapped to my back. I sharpened all of them before we left, even though they were already sharp enough. Still, the ritual helped calm me. Apparently, I’ve become the sort of person who soothes herself by sharpening blades. The Nia of six months ago —the one who worked in a bookstore—would be alarmed by this transformation.
Caradoc’s mansion and its enormous walls dwarf a little neighboring cottage, one very much like this one. One that could easily go unnoticed next to such a palatial home.
Except unlike this one, the little cottage across the street is now on fire.
Flames climb the walls—Raphael’s skillful work, a dancing scarlet and orange blaze against the shadows.
In front of the mansion gates, Silver Fox finally notices the smoke coiling into the air. “Fire! Fire!” he shouts in Fey, running back toward the mansion.
I stare at the smoke outside, which is thickening into a heavy black cloud.
Even inside and at this distance, my eyes are starting to tear up. This small town has no fire station and not a fire hydrant in sight. Pandemonium is about to erupt on this street.
More shouts ring through the air. This is my moment.
I step outside, blinking the smoke out of my eyes. A breeze ripples over my skin, thick with ash.
Just as we planned, the street fills up with people running for buckets of water to douse the flames. Silver Fox runs out from the front gate, carrying a fire extinguisher that looks comically small, given both the size of his body and the ferocity of the blaze. I’m genuinely impressed that Raphael was able to stoke such an intense fire so quickly.
Someone has dragged a stack of large tin fire buckets into the road. I grab one and carry it inside to fill it with water at the cottage sink. Once it’s full, I drag it outside again. The weight of it tugs on my arm, and I heave it across the street toward Rosy Cheeks, screaming at him in Fey to help before the whole neighborhood burns down.
He glowers at me, unwilling to leave his post. I lift the bucket toward him, then falter, the bucket nearly tumbling from my hands. I gasp at the guard. “At least help me carry it,” I shout. “It’s too heavy.”
“Fine.” He takes a step closer, gripping the bucket in one hand, and we shuffle along. From the corner of my eye, I see Raphael move behind us, a shadow in the night. I let go of the heavy bucket, and the weight of it makes Rosy Cheeks stumble. From behind us, Raphael hits the guard’s head with the pommel of his sword, and the guard crumples. Raphael sheathes his weapon, and we grab the unconscious guard, dragging him through the gate.
In the chaotic night, no one notices a thing.
Once inside, we drag the guard between the rose bushes and the towering
stone wall. The shadows envelop him.
“What if he wakes up?” I whisper.
“We’re not going to be here that long,” Raphael says.
We hurry to the front door. As soon as I get closer, I can sense the unseen ward, pushing us away. But this magic feels very different from the veil. I hear no hum, and when I focus, I can’t sense the same tangled weave of energy. Faintly, I can feel its power thrum over my skin, raising goosebumps
on my body.
“Can you disrupt it?” Raphael asks.
Adrenaline courses through my veins. “I can try.” I concentrate, summoning my Sentinel powers. Focusing, I search for an image of the ward in my mind, but it’s hard to get a feel for its dimensions. There’s nothing to channel my powers at. I try sending them out, as if I’m feeling my way in a
dark room. Searching for something, anything. But as far as my magic is concerned, there’s nothing there.
I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t have a sense of it, the shape or the color, the sound. It’s blank.”
Raphael frowns at me, and I see the flicker of worry in his expression. If I can’t get through the wards, the other agents won’t fare any better. The veil mages are too protected, and our time is running out.
“Nia,” Raphael whispers sharply. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind a stone column. From the shadows, I peer out. Silver Fox stands before the gate, frowning in confusion. He’s noticed his missing friend.
“Wait here,” Raphael says softly in my ear. “I’ll handle him.”
I grab his arm and drag him back.
“What?” he whispers.
“Maybe he knows how to unlock the wards,” I say. “Let me check.”
He hesitates, then nods. I wait until the guard turns the other way, searching the street. Then I move through the shadows. With the thick smoke in the air and the chaos outside the gate, the guard doesn’t see or hear me as I draw closer.
I concentrate, tugging at my telepathy, letting the powers stretch through my body. I hide behind the wall, then carefully stretch out my arm. From the other side of the gate, I brush my fingertips over his back as lightly as I can, then dive into his mind.
His concern for his friend, Atel, is foremost in his thoughts. Did Atel go to help with the fire as well? But he said he would wait at the gate. What if the fire gets to the mansion? We might need to evacuate Caradoc. But where is Atel?
Gritting my teeth, I delve deeper, searching for anything I can find about the wards. How can we get through the wards?
The answer lies there, just under the surface of his worried thoughts. The wards are easy to get through as long as you’re permitted to enter the mansion. Then, you just touch the door and chant the incantation, and the door opens.
Which doesn’t help us at all. Raphael and I aren’t permitted.
He feels my finger on his back and starts to turn around. I yank my arm away, quickly retreating into the shadows. He opens the gate and takes a step inside. Time moves at a snail’s pace. If he peers to the right, he’ll see me.
A desperate idea blooms in my mind. Stepping forth, I touch him once
again. But as I do, I summon both my powers, violet and red. They fuse together, Sentinel and telepathy twining and blending into a raspberry-hued, pulsing power. I force it into the guard’s mind, breaking down his mental defenses. He senses the intrusion, and while his body freezes, his psyche is trying to break free.
But I am everywhere. In his thoughts, his emotions, his memories.
His overwhelming emotion is fear because of the fire and the chaos, and his missing friend. I whisper a treacherous thought. Just open the mansion’s front door. Then you will be safe.
His eyes scan the garden, searching for the person who’s touching him, hurting his mind.
No. Don’t look around. Death will follow.
I can feel the thud of his terrified heart. Can sense his erratic breathing.
Walk up to the door of the mansion. Get inside, and then everything will be all right.
He totters forward. I keep close behind him, still touching, as he lumbers up to the front door. I never let him pull away, maintaining the telepathic channel between us. I whisper encouragement in his mind. Yes. Just a few more steps. Open the door, and then everything will be fine.
He touches the door and whispers an incantation. The thrum of the ward disappears.
Exhaling, I pull back from him. Before he can recover, Raphael smashes the pommel of his sword into Silver Fox’s skull.
I shiver with the Sentinel’s chill, feeling nauseous. My sight goes double with the effort I exerted. Raphael grips me by the waist, and I let him lead me inside to find Caradoc.
