Thirty-Four #2
A moment passed, the wind rustling the trees overhead. Klaudia tried to keep her mind from spiraling further into confusion and despair. The others were all counting on her, relying on her, and she was still cobbling together partial answers, half-finished plans.
She realized with a start that Julian was watching her intently. She must not have been able to keep the chagrin from her
expression, because his face softened with concern. Then he turned to Crispin and said, “Can’t you give us a hint? Where should
we go next?”
Crispin’s shoulders rose around his ears. “I don’t know.”
“Come on,” Julian said. “The faster we get through this, the better. Then we can all go out for drinks.”
There was something charged and meaningful about Julian’s words, something only Crispin seemed to understand. He wavered.
And then, slowly, he nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. His gaze flickered past Julian to Nadiya. “Deckard did leave weapons.”
Nadiya tensed. “What?”
“It’s called a dead drop. It can be dangerous for a clandestine officer to carry a weapon on their person. You would need
a reason as part of your cover story . . . so it’s typical for another officer to leave a weapon in a hidden location for
you to safely retrieve when the time comes.”
“Great,” said Nadiya. “So where are the weapons hidden?”
Crispin shrank back. His lips pressed together, and he said in a frankly miserable tone, “I can’t tell you.”
Nadiya threw up her hands and stalked to the other end of the clearing. Giselle let out a breath and Klaudia stifled her own
sigh of frustration. But Julian remained composed.
“Think of it,” he said to Crispin, “all the debauchery we can get up to once the mission is over and you’re off Deckard’s
leash.”
Once again, Klaudia didn’t quite understand the tenor of his voice, but Crispin did. He swallowed, still looking vaguely despondent,
and then said, “This one is for Nadiya.”
As Nadiya walked back over, Klaudia’s mind began to whir. If Deckard’s first mission had been for her, and the clue was in the literature connected to the name engraved on her cuff, then . . .
“I have an idea,” Klaudia said.
“Of course you do,” said Nadiya appreciatively.
Klaudia took a moment to examine the map with Giselle. Then, as they walked, Klaudia explained her theory.
“If this test is for you, Nadiya,” she said, “then the clue has to be in The Last Man. The book begins with an introduction where Mary Shelley recounts a visit she took to the cave of the Cumaean Sibyl. The
Sibyl is a fabled prophetess who had visions of the future. Mary allegedly found markings on the wall of the cave that gave
her the inspiration for the book.”
Nadiya was nodding along, but her expression was skeptical. “I don’t think Deckard has hidden away an ancient seer somewhere
in Traumstadt.”
“No,” Klaudia agreed, “but there is a cave.”
Nadiya’s brow wrinkled. Julian frowned.
“A metaphorical one,” she said. “After we destroyed the statue, it revealed a tunnel that led out of the arena and to the
cells where you were being kept. There were markings on the wall—I didn’t think anything of them until now.”
“Strings of numbers,” added Giselle. “I thought they were random, too. But I guess I was underestimating Deckard.”
“You were the one who put it together for me.” Klaudia glanced at Julian. “The numbers are coordinates. At least, I think.
We’ll see in a moment if I’m right.”
There was no need to enter the tunnel again—Giselle could recollect all the numbers she had seen on the wall.
Klaudia was just as unnerved as she was impressed.
It wasn’t a flashy talent, like Nadiya’s marksmanship or even like Julian’s oratory skills, but the fact that it was so intrinsic, that it required no training or cultivation, made it seem unnatural. Like a real-life superpower.
Klaudia shook her head, as if to banish the fanciful thoughts. The lack of sleep and the surrealness of the artificial environment
were clearly doing strange things to her brain.
She led them to another small clearing, on the eastern edge of Traumstadt. It was enclosed by enormously tall pine trees,
their branches wreathed in snow. A mist had overtaken the area—Deckard’s work, of course—and Klaudia could scarcely glimpse
the tops of the trees.
She knelt to the ground there and began to brush away the snow. Giselle immediately crouched down to help. Within several
moments, they had revealed a large, flat stone. When Klaudia rapped on it with a knuckle, there was an answering echo.
“It’s hollow,” Giselle said, eyes widening.
With some difficulty, they turned the stone over. On its underside was a small latch. Klaudia opened it, and a single item
slid out into the snow.
A pistol, pure black with a ring of gold around the barrel.
“Auric,” Nadiya said. Her voice had a taut quality. “That’s an Auric gun.”
“I didn’t know they were into weapons manufacturing,” said Julian.
“It’s a new development.” Nadiya took the gun, turning it over in her hands. “They delivered trucks of them to Valeran for
us to test. Apparently Auric is angling for a contract with the DOD. As if they don’t have a deep enough reach into government
affairs.”
“A good businessman always sees where there’s more to take.”
“Apparently.” Nadiya unloaded the magazine and examined its contents. “There’s only one bullet.”
“Great.” Julian let out a breath. “Deckard is a real prick.”
“Another one of his taunts.” Klaudia felt her previous sense of determination evaporate. Had she led them astray? Fallen into
another one of Deckard’s coy little traps?
“Maybe not.” Giselle rose to her feet and inclined her head, lifting a hand to shield her eyes as she stared directly up into
the white-gray sky. “Do you see that? In the branches?”
Klaudia had to shield her eyes and squint, too. But when her vision adjusted, she saw the faintest blur of something hanging at the very top of the tree. A dark smudge, like a shape under ice.
“It looks like a supply bag,” said Nadiya.
She glanced over at Crispin, an unspoken question in her stare. His expression was almost pained, but he nodded.
It really was for Nadiya, then. Klaudia could provide no help here.
Nadiya began to pace around the clearing, squinting up at the sky. The false sun filtered through the fog, just bright enough
to cause a glare. Klaudia wasn’t normally inclined to attribute malice to what could be explained by coincidence, but Deckard
seemed to truly enjoy tormenting them.
“Deckard has to be kidding,” Julian said, as if reading her thoughts. “You can’t make that shot.”
Nadiya turned toward them, dark eyes smoldering. “Watch me.”
As Nadiya cocked the pistol and raised her arm, Klaudia wondered if Julian had actually meant to provoke her. Spite and defiance
were powerful motivators, and it appeared that he knew Nadiya well enough to work her levers. There was something both admirable
and unsettling about it—the subtle skill of social manipulation Klaudia could never acquire.
Nadiya’s arm extended in a perfectly straight line. Her movements were graceful, almost balletic. The world seemed to slow as the shot fired, bullet cracking the air. In that moment, it seemed almost more like an art than a means to an end, a beautiful form of violence.
The branches quivered overhead. Pine needles rained down, and the supply bag plummeted to the ground.
Somehow it felt appropriate to observe a moment of silence—or perhaps Klaudia was simply at a loss for words. Giselle said,
awestruck, “You did it.”
“You doubted me?” Nadiya arched a brow.
“No,” Giselle said. “Not really. But I can still be amazed, can’t I?”
A smile lifted the corner of Nadiya’s mouth. “I guess I’ll allow it.”
Something passed between them, something even Klaudia’s wanting social skills allowed her to perceive. It was a fondness beyond
friendship. It made her feel a sense of both warmth and loneliness. That sort of connection was something Klaudia would never
be permitted. Would never permit herself.
Julian was watching them closely, too. His gaze lifted briefly and met Klaudia’s. Neither of them spoke, but her pulse skipped.
Her own moment of weakness.
“Let’s see what’s inside,” Klaudia said, shaking off the slipup. “Maybe Deckard has been unexpectedly generous.”
She picked up the supply bag, which was surprisingly heavy, and spilled out its contents. The four of them gathered in a tight
circle, Crispin remaining at the periphery, and examined what Deckard had provided.