Chapter 12
Rosabel La Rouge
Present day
I asked them again what had happened, why they hadn’t healed me, why they were sorry .
Nobody answered.
I passed out again on the way back to Headquarters and didn’t wake up until we were there.
The overhead lights in the building’s hallways were brighter than I’d ever realized. I could have sworn that this was Room Number Seven—the same interrogation room I’d been in with that siren that morning. That very room where I’d made her tell me where she’d hidden everything she’d stolen from humans, while giving in to her magic whenever I could to make her feel like she had the upper hand. Where agents had come in wearing large headphones to bring her food and drinks or bring me more documents at my request—because to hear the voice of a siren unprotected meant to lose your mind and submit to her without question. Siren magic was strong, very strong.
Yet mine had kept me safe beautifully—when I was sitting on the other side of this table.
When I was the interrogator.
Now, I was in the siren’s chair for some reason. I was in the chair of the criminal (until proven guilty, of course, but that’s just for the records because anybody who ended up in these rooms was considered guilty already), and though my hands weren’t chained, I was still sitting on the right side of the table.
The right, not the left.
Panic set in and I stood up, threw the chair back. The sound of it falling to the floor turned the blood in my veins ice-cold—it was so loud. It echoed a million times. Somebody would have heard it. Somebody was coming for me.
And my neck was killing me from having held it at a very bad angle until I woke up.
Why was I left unconscious on a chair? Why am I in an interrogation room? Why haven’t they healed me—my leg is pulsating with so much pain, I can’t stand on it at all. Why-why-why?
“It’s okay,” I told myself. “Perfectly fine. They just want to know what happened in the woods, that’s all.” All of this had an explanation. A very logical explanation that I was missing because of this fog that had taken over my mind and this excruciating pain that barely let me suck in air, and this weakness of my body that must have come from no sleep, exhaustion, loss of blood, and being exposed to all that magic, and?—
My ring.
A bell rang in my ears. My stomach fell all the way to my heels and my entire body stood frozen at the edge of the table, the door a mere three hops away.
My ring was not on my finger, and my gloves were not on my person, and my jacket was gone, and the shirt and pants I had on were completely torn.
My ring is not on my finger.
It fell. It probably fell somewhere in that forest and I didn’t notice it. It just fell, and it would be somewhere with my jacket, wherever the agents had taken the stuff they found in that woods. All I had to do was go find it, that’s it. All I had to do was go find my father’s ring.
But my leg hurt even more the clearer my head became. I was at the door already, hand on the handle, but I couldn’t hop a single more time like that. It was still bleeding, that wound. My pants were torn, and I saw my flesh. I saw the green goo hanging onto the edges, too—an infection. Definitely an infection, and the magical kind that would need a heavy dose of magical antibiotics—meaning a heavy-duty Whitefire spell. But one of my own was going to do just fine for now, just to help me keep walking.
So, I closed my eyes and I tried. I whispered the words just like I had in the woods.
Then I tried a second time.
And a third.
My magic didn’t come.
“No need to panic,” I told myself. Look at the state I was in—exhausted and shot and infected, not to mention my ring wasn’t on my finger at all. Of course, my magic wouldn’t work without an anchor—it was fine! All would be right as soon as I went to the medical wing. Plenty of Whitefires there at any given time.
So, I pulled the door open to walk out. It didn’t budge.
They’d locked me in, in the interrogation room .
“But I’m an agent,” I reminded myself—out loud again, as that seemed to work better than just thinking. I was an agent, and agents had badges with access to all interrogation rooms. My badge was in my wallet, which was in the pocket of my cargo pants, exactly as I left it. It was still there, and I could have fucking cried from relief, but I didn’t let myself because to be relieved nobody had thought to take away my badge meant to admit that something was wrong. To admit that my ring and my jacket were taken from me on purpose—and I was not ready for that thought yet.
My badge worked. I pressed it to the panel near the door and the light turned green, giving me permission to open the door. I hopped out into the wide hallway on my good leg, gritting my teeth to keep from groaning in pain.
The hallway was empty— thank Iris, I wanted to say, but didn’t. Again, I was not relieved because this was all normal. Exactly as it should be.
Then I began the journey of hopping down the long hallway to get to the offices, and hopefully somebody would be there to help me get to the medical wing.
It was torture, worse than looking up in the eyes of a magical monster and waiting to die. Worse than the entire day yesterday— was it yesterday though? Because I was a level underground and I had no phone or watch on me so I couldn’t tell what time it was, when we’d come back, how long I’d been out of it.
I have no idea how I managed to hop all the way to the main office, and when I opened the door and was on the other side, it was like I’d been saved already.
Except I wasn’t. Because there were a few agents at their cubicles, and a few other IDD employees, and they all heard me stumbling in. They all saw me, recognized me—I knew them all by name. Belkiz, whose cat died three months ago. I had brought her cookies from Madeline’s chef because I always felt like they made things seem a little less gloomy. Arnold, who went to Paris with his wife and daughter last year, and he still talked about Disney and the Eiffel Tower to anyone willing to listen. Randy, who was getting married in March to a human girl, regardless of how his family felt about it—and a few others. People I’d talked to at least once, had said hi to them countless times.
The same people who watched me now like I was something to be disgusted by. Something to be feared. People who didn’t even make an attempt to approach me or help me, though it was clear to see that I could barely stand.
Instead, they all stopped whatever they were doing, and they all turned and looked at me, analyzed me closely, moved back to the other side of the large space like they were afraid I might start running and attacking them like a goddamn catfairie.
It doesn’t matter.
The anger, the disappointment, this plain stupidity of mine for still expecting people to be decent was what fueled me with a brand-new energy. I continued to hop and hold onto walls and chairs and tables, until I was out the door in the other corner of the room, and in the hallway that would lead me straight to the medical wing. Almost there. Another fifty hops or so, approximately, and I was going to run into a Whitefire who was going to take one look at me and start spelling me before I passed the fuck out again.
Notice what I said up there about my stupidity?
Yeah, I really meant it.
Right now, I was choosing to blame it on the blood loss because there’s no way I could justify expecting help from anyone in this building at this point. No way. So, because my head was foggy and I felt… dirty, and I’d lost a shitload of blood and I was still bleeding, I genuinely thought that by the time I made it to the medical wing, a nurse or healer would see me and come running with a burst of magic.
Then I’d wake up and all would be well.
And before you ask, no, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that that catfairie who was about to kill me ended up dead on the ground instead—right after that little noise I heard before passing out. No, I wasn’t thinking of the fact that Michael had had orders to kill me, and he had been in the process of actually doing it together with Erid, whom I’d considered a friend. No, I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Taland Tivoux had escaped the Tomb Penitentiary and was coming to finish me off—I didn’t think about any of those things.
I just hopped all the way to the waiting room in the medical wing, only to find it empty.
Cursing under my breath, I fell against one of the chairs mounted to the wall just to catch my breath and seriously considered calling out for someone. I really did.
But then, as soon as I’d breathed deeply and my heartbeat had somewhat calmed down, I heard the voices.
Fuck, the relief was like a magical spell falling on my leg, mending every little tissue. Like a glass of water down my parched throat. Any second now those people behind the large blue doors that led to the infirmary rooms and the operating halls were going to come out here and see me.
Any second…
Again, they didn’t, and I really didn’t feel like screaming my guts out right now, not in this place—who knew how many more agents were wounded in that woods and were receiving medical care currently? No, I’d come all the way here. I was going to make it to those doors.
I did. My resolve was stronger the closer I got.
I pushed the first door open and nearly fell on my face on the white linoleum floor. Inside the corridor, the lights were mostly off, so at least I could blink properly. There were doors on either side of me, all closed except the first one on my left.
I’d been here before, plenty of times when I was wounded in missions. There were thirty rooms full of beds in this corridor, more than enough to heal a large number of agents at the same time. I was told that they used this wing to heal the surviving players of the Iris Roe, too, and the years in which the game was held were the busiest for this part of the Headquarters.
At the end of the corridor were the operating halls nobody ever really used because there wasn’t much magic couldn’t fix.
Warm orange light spilled in the hallway from the door on the left. At first, all I could gather was that there were more than two people in there, talking, but the closer I got while I held onto the wall for support, the more I realized that I knew exactly who was in that room.
I stopped walking when I was still four feet away.
“Something has corrupted our systems, all right,” Eric was saying. I had no doubt in my mind that it was him.
“Regardless—what matters now is that we cover the damage this has cost us.” And this was Lauren. Both team leaders I’d been briefed by on the catfairies just that morning.
“Over a hundred catfairies. You saw them all with your own eyes.” This voice I didn’t know, which made me even more curious.
It shouldn’t have.
“Yes, sir, we did,” said none other than Abigail, my fellow agent I’d spoken to at today’s meeting. And she sounded like she was in pain.
Impossible to even try to resist my curiosity, but now when I moved closer to the door, I did so slowly. Soundlessly. Just like the IDD taught me.
“They were living in man-made houses. We had to set them on fire, but the pictures should be clear enough to make them out even through the illusion magic,” said Chip—another agent from Eric’s team.
“And how many catfairies got away?” That same man again.
My heart sank. Catfairies had gotten away?
Didn’t Philip tell me that all were dead?
“We’re not sure, but approximately thirty,” said Eric and my heart kept on slamming against my ribcage with a new urgency. The pain had intensified, though I’d become somewhat numb to it during the torture of getting here. Even so, I pushed myself to move closer because I had to see.
And then…
“What about Agent Michael and his team?”
Every inch of my body froze in place and my ears rang a second time. I closed my eyes and held my breath and prayed and prayed that I’d heard wrong, but I hadn’t.
That voice I’d know anywhere—it was the stuff my nightmares were made of. That voice I’d know if I came back here in another life, too.
You didn’t just forget the sound of someone like her, who spoke little but found creative ways to remind you that your existence is a nuisance and you’re a worthless piece of meat with very few words. And with her eyes, of course.
That was Madeline Rogan for you. My very own grandmother—and she was right there in that infirmary.
I was shaking as I forced myself to lean over just a bit, just to see her face. Just to see who else was in there. Just to make sure I understood that Madeline was really, truly here.
“Agent Michael is dead, and so is Erid Schtein,” Lauren said. “They both died fighting the catfairies. The original one killed them on the spot.”
“But those two made it,” said the man—that first man who’d spoken that I didn’t recognize.
“Yes, they did,” said Eric, and by then I was close enough that I could see just a little bit of the wide room. I could see the chairs before the beds began, and in those chairs sat none other than Jim and Jam, with their staffs in their hands, tapping their fingers on the white-ish wood nervously, and their feet to the floor fast.
“My granddaughter survived, too,” said Madeline, and I swear she sounded disgusted by the fact. Fucking disgusted .
My heart was beating so loudly that I thought for sure they were going to hear it, especially because of how perfectly silent it became in the room after her voice. So fucking silent…
They didn’t hear, though—not all of them. But Jam did.
Could have been Jim, too, but one of the twins, the one sitting closest to the door, looked at it, and his eyes locked on mine right away.
Fuck.
It was as good as over.
“Like Agents Andre and Andrew explained, the mutated catfairie got close to the team by moving on branches. He landed behind them and killed both Agents Erid and Michael before any of them could react. He then went for Agent La Rouge. She’s currently being held in the interrogation room, unconscious. We haven’t had the chance to question her yet,” Lauren continued, and the twin kept staring at me, eyes never blinking.
Any second now…
Any second he was going to stand up and point out to all of them that Agent La Rouge was, in fact, right there by the door, spying on their conversation.
But he didn’t.
Jam didn’t do anything, just lowered his eyes to his staff again.
“But she killed him.” Madeline.
A single step— yes, that’s her . I knew exactly how her heels sounded when connecting with any kind of flooring. That’s how aware I’d been of her presence in the mansion my whole life.
“Somehow, a mutated catfairie killed a team leader while he was armed and prepared to fight, then stained my granddaughter in some unknown way, so then she could kill him with a gun after?!”
Her voice became colder—my heart became heavier—my soul became bleaker—with every new word.
Silence—that heavy, heavy silence.
“Yes, it appears to be so. Agent Michael or Erid must have shot her by accident while fighting, but she could still stand after,” Eric finally said, his voice small, like he was wishing he didn’t have to talk. Like he was wishing he didn’t have to be in the room at all, a feeling I knew well.
“We will be questioning Agent La Rouge when she wakes up. She’ll be able to give us more details.”
“ If she manages to wake up,” said Madeline, and bile rose up my throat when I realized Jam was looking at me again.
Not only that, but Jim had seen me, too. Both their eyes were stuck on me.
“We think she will. After the interrogation, we will inject antibiotics and pain relief, and we’re positive that she’ll make it. The bullet didn’t touch her bones. She’ll suffer no perman?—”
Ice-cold laughter cut off the woman who was speaking—I had no clue who she was, and I didn’t care to know. All I could think about was Jim and Jam and getting out of here.
All I could think about was stained.
All I could think about was antibiotics.
The laughter finally ended. “Don’t be an idiot, Dora. What good is she to anyone now?!”
To this day I am convinced that Madeline Rogan could make a daemon blush in shame.
And I needed to get the fuck out of here, asap.
“We will interrogate her,” Eric insisted.
Footsteps—they were about to leave.
“Do what you will,” my grandmother said, and she was moving toward the door. “And when you’re done, you hand her over to me. I’ll deal with it myself.”
By Iris…
She couldn’t see me there, not under any circumstances. I had to get out, run, all the way to the city.
And that’s exactly what I planned to do, except I’d forgotten one tiny little fact—I couldn’t run. I could barely stand on my good leg, and it was going to take me a good minute just to get to that door.
Then I saw movement.
Jim and Jam had stood up from their chairs, and their staffs were between them. Each had their hands wrapped around the wood below the green crystal at the top, just like they always did when they were doing spells.
And they were both looking at me.
I had no hope left. I didn’t even try to turn around and make it before they came to the door. Before Madeline saw me there and killed me on the spot.
After all, I was no use to her now—no use to anyone , apparently. She would be glad to get rid of me while she was still pissed off.
But then I could have sworn that either Jim or Jam nodded at me.
I could have sworn either Jim or Jam winked.
Then there was magic.
At first, it surprised me. I usually saw the green flames that wrapped around their staffs, coming from both the top and the bottom of the wood.
But this time it was more than that. This time, I felt the charge in the air. This time I felt it pressing against my skin like a physical thing, like a hand, like a piece of fabric wrapping around my shoulders.
This time, I saw the color of their magic twice as clearly even in the state I was in. I heard the magic as if it was whispering words in my ear.
And the footsteps stopped coming.
Jim smiled at me, just a slight curl of one corner of his lips.
It took me but a second to realize what had happened. He and Jam had frozen time inside that infirmary room, and I had a minute, if not less, to disappear from the hallway.
A brand-new energy came over me, though it wasn’t much. I moved forward, hopped too fast too far, and almost fell on the floor again. Luckily, I caught the frame of the door on the wall right across from them in time .
But I saw the inside of that room only for a split second, and my heart all but stopped.
Madeline wearing a red suit, her silver hair done in a perfect bob, her big round golden earrings balancing her square jaws, as perfect as ever. Her eyes were a cold amber brown and if I moved just a bit to the left, she’d be looking right at me, though she was stuck in limbo at the moment and wouldn’t be able to tell or remember.
Jim and Jam were very thorough with this spell. It was their special party trick, they said, and I’d witnessed its efficiency too many times to fear it would fail now.
At least fifteen people were in the room with Madeline, including the team leaders and agents who’d been wounded, as well as a healer, two nurses, and a man in a black suit that I hadn’t seen before, following my grandmother outside.
Or at least he was before Jim and Jam, standing by the door, froze him. Froze everyone—froze time itself.
They could get in trouble for this. If anyone saw or noticed what they’d done, they would be labelled traitors. They would be interrogated, put in jail within the hour, and part of me wanted to stay, just to make sure they didn’t.
But that part of me was squashed to death within a split second by my survival instincts. Jim and Jam were grown-ups. They knew what they were doing. They’d chosen to do nothing when Michael and Erid tried to kill me in the woods, but now they’d chosen to act. I was going to take it, be thankful, and hopefully able to pay them back someday.
I moved.
The door in front of me opened with ease and I hopped into the dark, empty infirmary room without breathing. I pushed it closed behind me as fast as my arms allowed and stopped with my back against the wall right next to it, all my focus on my ears.
The spell ended not a full two seconds later.
Footsteps. Voices.
Madeline and the man in the black suit walked out of the infirmary room without their steps faltering and continued down the hallway until I couldn’t hear them anymore.
No alarms rang. Nobody was screaming. Nobody was running.
The twins had pulled their spell off without anybody realizing it. It had actually worked.
Now, I was in a room full of empty beds all alone.