Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I am already on my way to the gap when I recognise the people inside the car.
Vivian.
And Cáel.
The family wards still recognise Vivian as the heir. The gates open for her without question.
I drop the invisibility, step into the drive and wave both arms.
Vivian brakes hard.
The car stops halfway through the gates, then reverses rapidly onto the road before they can close behind it.
The passenger door flies open.
I sprint through the gap and run straight into Cáel.
He catches me, sweeps me off my feet, and holds me so tightly I can scarcely breathe.
“Elenora.” His voice is rough against my hair. “I’ve been so worried.”
For once in my life, I let him hold me completely and without argument.
A car door slams.
Another pair of arms wraps around us. Vivian pulls us both close and kisses the side of my head.
“Thank goodness you’re all right.” Then, briskly, “Come on, you two. There’s a time for hugging and a time for leaving, and this is very much the latter.”
Vivian drives until the estate road bends and the Morris gates vanish behind a line of immaculate hedges.
I sit in the back with Cáel, who keeps one arm around me.
I do not object.
“Mina is with Thea,” he says.
“We thought that was best,” Vivian adds.
“Is she all right?”
“She’s fine.”
I make myself sit with that and believe it. Fine. Somewhere warm, with Thea, being fed things she ought not to be having.
The knot I have carried since the car park lets go, and I have to look out of the window for a moment until my face behaves.
Only then do I notice that the car is packed with magical weapons.
“Thank you,” I say. “Both of you. For coming.”
“Always,” Cáel murmurs.
I lean forwards and tap Vivian on the shoulder. “I thought you were in protective custody.”
“I can manage protective custody,” she says, “just not when my little sister has been kidnapped by our parents.”
“How did you know it was them?”
“They rang me.” She shakes her head, her voice incredulous. “They said the ‘problem’ was being resolved and that I could come home, proceed with the marriage, settle down with my future husband and start having children.”
The absurdity is that they still believe she will give them anything.
“You don’t want to do that.”
“Obviously not. I’m already married.”
“No, that’s not—” I stop and rub my forehead. “I mean, you specifically shouldn’t because—”
I explain.
The words come out in pieces at first, then faster: the sacrifices, the suppression grid, the Fade, the power stolen from the Districts, the imprint of my magic trapped inside the network.
“The Morris family has done this for generations,” I conclude. “And from what I gather, my magic is a problem.”
Silence fills the car.
Then Vivian and Cáel speak at once, neither remotely calm.
I wait until their words separate.
“Our great-aunt. Our uncle.” Vivian looks at me in the rear-view mirror.
“Both died soon after their magic was stripped, and you’ve lasted thirty-two years.
” Her hands tighten around the steering wheel.
“Thirty-two years. Your magic is absurd, Elmo. I have to find the records,” she murmurs. “I need to see them.”
A beat passes.
“This is diabolical.” Then, more quietly, “A sacrifice… and I’m the heir.”
She pulls over. “Excuse me a moment.” She climbs out and stands on the verge, the Districts spread grey and vast below us.
Through the windscreen, I watch her stare at her device. The urge to call Thea is written in every line of her body. Then she slips it away.
Calling now might reveal Thea’s location.
She simply stands there, arms wrapped around herself.
“Perhaps I should have softened it,” I say to Cáel.
“There’s no way to soften that.” His arm tightens around me. “It’s horrifying. Elenora, I’m so sorry your parents did this to you.”
“Did this to us.”
I stare at my sister.
She did not know.
I am certain of it.
Mother was relentless with Vivian and inexplicably gentle with me.
Now I understand why.
Keep the sacrifice comfortable. Contained. Give her no reason to rebel.
A lifetime of believing I was the family disappointment, and all of it was housekeeping.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
Cáel draws me closer.
I rest my head against his chest and let myself stay there.
Vivian returns without speaking. She starts the car, and we continue towards the lift, towards the Districts.
We need to leave the Immortal Zone before our parents realise their ‘happy couple’ have skipped dinner and their ‘problem’ has escaped.
“None of this is your fault,” Vivian says suddenly. “Not one part of it. The blame rests entirely with our family.”
“Our family,” I echo.
“Yes. Ours.” She meets my gaze in the mirror. “And we’re going to stop them.”
“I’m going to stop them,” I correct.
“We,” Vivian replies in a tone that ends the discussion.
“The tracker,” Cáel says. “After they took you, the car was the first thing I checked. It wasn’t there. I think it’s on you.”
“On me? How?”
I retrace every moment: the fights, the capture, the Gilded Drop, the lifts back and forth. I cannot think of a single time anyone could have planted something on me without my noticing.
“We’ll find out,” he says. “I have a spell.”
Of course he does.
I hide my smile.
The lift checkpoint has changed since yesterday: more guards, more weapons, more eyes.
One man checks Cáel’s papers three times. His fingers tremble against the edge of the sheet.
Below, in the Ink District, the streets feel wrong.
Too few private cars.
Too many government vans.
Shutters sit half-drawn even in daylight, and people hurry past with their heads together, burdened with bags, children and crates of bottled water.
Bottled water costs more than meat down here. Nobody buys it by the crate unless they have been told something or worked something out.
Word has got round. I do not know which word, and that frightens me considerably more than the vans do.
Vivian pulls into a warehouse and cuts the engine.
“We brought you clothes,” she says, “and a new coat. You’ll need to remove everything.”
Instinctively, I clutch my coat closed.
Then I look at Vivian, at Cáel, and think of Thea and Mina waiting somewhere safe.
Their safety is worth a pretty coat.
Cáel turns away without a word, offering me his broad back for privacy.
I strip off everything—coat, boots, socks, the lot—and heap it on the bonnet. Cold air prickles across my skin.
I change quickly into deep navy jogging bottoms and a warm jumper. They are the nicest I have ever worn, and although I do not mention it, the colour is almost exactly the shade of Cáel’s eyes.
I have it bad.
Cáel runs a detection spell over my coat and every item from its pockets—knives, charms, all of it.
He counts the blades, shakes his head, and allows the ghost of a smile to touch his mouth.
“Nothing in the coat.” He checks each piece individually, and nothing surfaces.
Then he steps towards me.
“May I?”
I hold my arms out.
He begins at my feet and works upwards with meticulous care. The spell moves over me in a faint shimmer, raising goosebumps beneath my clothes.
It chimes at my left arm.
We exchange a look.
He repeats the sweep.
The spell chimes at my right arm too.
We stand in silence.
The only things on my body that are not mine are the two government marks: the sleep mark and the truth mark, both stamped into my skin the day I received my hunter licence, weeks after my magic was stripped.
The tracking structure has been buried inside them all along.
Blondie never put anything on the car.
She did not need to.
They have been tracking me through my own flesh.
Shit.