18 Secrets & Lies
Secrets Calvin’s wide eyes and the soft way he stares at me, his steady weight holding me up when I’m so tired, are all I can concentrate on.
“Our intentions don’t matter when consequences come to call—” Dave fiddles with the radio controls as Calvin tenses.
“Stop to listen; we shouldn’t be rushing to shout back in a language we don’t understand at beings who—” Doug bats Dave away from Winnie’s radio controls. Static swells in my ears alongside another voice.
Listen, shout, listen.
My head pounds with indecision and noise, too much input, too much at stake. I swallow hard. I have to tell him. “I’ve never wanted to hide who I am from you to hurt you. My only intention—”
“We all make mistakes we aren’t proud of, thinking we’re protecting someone we love. Reggie, I need to tell you—”
“I . . . worked with the oldest Kingsley sister. Closely. I worked with her very closely. The Gauntlet, the werewolves, I was there for it all.” I cut him off in a rush, spit out the facts—or a version of them—before I let myself bury them again, before Calvin says he loves me and I have to hear him take it back.
I shouldn’t have let myself lean on him, because now I’m unsteady, off balance as he draws away immediately.
“Adele wanted me to help take her work with the Gauntlet further,” I say, “to figure out how to wield it in a broader way. She wanted other weapons, other ways to control people. Werewolves. Beings like Eldi. I think—I think she wanted an army. She never said outright what her goals were.”
“You think?” Calvin says.
“Yes, I think. I don’t know for sure because she wouldn’t tell me. And I tried not to think too hard about it.”
“And you were okay with that?” Calvin asks. He crosses his arms, stares down at me. Just like that, we’re back in a bar, and he’s judging me and finding me lacking. But this time I am judging myself too.
“No. But it was what I did at first. In the end, that’s why I left. I realized exactly who would be hurt by me. But that’s how I know so much about them. We were close, the sisters and I. Especially the eldest.”
I tell him details, true things. How the eldest sister went by “Kingsley” only.
How she always wore a mask. That she lorded herself over Agency 51 with arrogance and cruelty, nearly rivaling Adele by the time I made up my mind to leave.
How I’ve been running all this time in the hope of never having to face her again.
“I’m not who I let you believe I am. I’m not a good person.
But I do love Eldi. I will get her out.”
It’s in the way Calvin squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath before he meets my eyes. He has to force himself to believe his own words. My heart sinks, a bit of hope I’ve clung to for so long, drifting off into the wind to die.
“You are a good person,” he says. “You chose to leave. Maybe you made some mistakes, but you’ve done more right than wrong. You are your choices. You are more good than bad, Reggie.”
He’s wrong, so wrong. I don’t think he really believes the words he’s saying.
I certainly don’t. “Calvin,” I say, shaking my head.
The last thing I want is for him to hate me.
But I need to guarantee Eldi’s safety. I need to get him to promise me he’ll sacrifice me, not her.
“I worked on the werewolf project. The Kingsleys would turn you into a weapon, control you, if they got the chance. And once, I saw a child like Eldi at the agency. Adele Kingsley hates werewolves, hates Chupacabras. The only thing she hates more is betrayal. I betrayed the agency when I left. She’ll see that hurting you would be punishment enough.
And she knows that hurting Eldi would be the worst punishment for me.
It’s why she took her in the first place.
It’s why you have to get her out. And it’s the reason I think I could distract her enough if it came down to that, for the two of you to escape.
She cares more about getting to me than keeping either of you.
The things she could do to you, to Eldi, are worse than what she would do to me.
So I need you to promise me, no matter what happens, that you will get Eldi out, even if it means risking me. ”
“I promise,” Calvin says shortly, averting his eyes.
I recognize that look. He’s lying. I know how hard it is to keep that kind of promise.
He won’t betray me like that; he’s incapable of it.
Calvin would stay on a sinking boat with me until I drag him under rather than save himself from drowning.
There’s nothing I can do now. I’ll save my ultimate trump card to send him running until I need it.
I know the truth that will make him jump ship, so I let his lie stand.
“So your partner, Zara, the one who’s been following you; is she the eldest Kingsley sister?” Calvin probes.
“No,” I say, making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a snort.
Calvin looks at me strangely, so I clarify.
“Zara isn’t cut out for that kind of cruelty.
Agency 51 ruined her, but they didn’t take her soul.
At least not then. Zara was careless, letting you see her face.
The eldest sister would never let you see who she is. ”
I explain that this is how I know the layout of the Kingsley living quarters, one of the few parts of the aboveground portion of Agency 51 carved into the base of a mountain overlooking the desert. Calvin believes every word. Why wouldn’t he? He trusts me, after all.
“The whole thing is nearly impenetrable unless you know what you’re doing. It’s warded with magic and twenty-first-century technology. But the door into the Kingsleys’ quarters is just for Adele’s family. It isn’t under surveillance.”
I hand him the maps, let him keep studying them while I climb into the driver’s seat. My mental maps of Agency 51 are as vivid as ever; I could navigate those corridors blindfolded.
“So, how are we supposed to get in?”
I hesitate but answer with the truth. “Blood.”
“What the fuck?”
“A blood sacrifice of sorts. It’s complicated.” There’s more to it than that, and I feel him slipping away from me in increments, half-truth by half-truth.
“Time to go back, Winnie,” I say brusquely, patting her dash, cutting off Calvin as he opens his mouth to ask more.
Tumbleweeds drift across our path while errant thoughts race through my mind as we drive.
My focus turns inward rather than to the road ahead as Winnie takes over the piloting.
The more I drift back through memories of my past, the more Calvin’s attention focuses on me like a laser, sensing there’s something wrong without understanding what.
He reaches for my hand over the center console, but I pretend not to notice and lean toward the window, staring blankly out.
When we leave the highway, we drive right out into the Nevada desert; Winnie pulls a chameleon move and blends into the sand and dry brush. She’s no more than a blip of disturbance in the air if you look too closely, which I’m hoping no one will.
Calvin and I find the entrance to the tunnel right where I said we would.
Set into the middle of a cluster of rocks, tucked away from plain sight, is a door.
It’s locked, but with a drop of blood, a minute prick of my dagger, my DNA as a passcode, the door swings open into a long, dark tunnel without even a creak.
She said I would come back. I can’t tell if she’s made a mistake or if I have.
“Everything all right?” Calvin asks as I hesitate.
I squash down the apprehension. Am I calling her bluff, or is she calling mine?
“Nothing, it’s fine. Let’s go.”