“What’s going on?”
“Come on,” Blue pressed. “Tell us.”
“You’re about to find out,” he said grimly.
The rear doors opened, and three figures climbed inside. My heart ratcheted in my chest when I couldn’t see their faces. It was too dark, and they were all wearing hooded jackets and looking down.
Moments after they sat on the benches and the rear doors closed, Viktor got back inside.
“No talking,” he instructed us. “Not one word until we reach our destination. Do you understand me? Not a single whisper out of any of you.”
“Gotcha,” Blue replied, her posture tense as she stared at our passengers.
Two of the figures sat on Christian’s left, and the third took up the empty spot next to Shepherd. In the dark cab, dimly lit by the instrument panel in the front, I noticed the anxious looks on everyone’s faces. I wondered what Niko could see and what Shepherd felt. They probably had a better sense of what was going on.
As the van ascended the ramp, daylight flooded the interior from the front windows. I leaned forward and got a better look at our passengers. The person next to Christian wore a dark denim jacket with a grey hood. His hands were soft but definitely male. The only other distinguishable feature I could make out was his brown skin and how it matched the person next to him. Not anything like the pale individual sitting beside Shepherd, whom I guessed to be a woman by her slim frame and small feet. She wore a thin ring on her slender finger, her face completely covered by her hood.
What had Christian heard them talking about?
Claude briefly glanced back when we stopped at a light. His nostrils flared, and his golden eyes burned bright.
Viktor reached over and turned on the radio. After skipping over a few channels, he settled on the peppiest song he came across—“Faith” by George Michael.
Blue and I exchanged a look as he cranked up the volume to an uncomfortable level.
The woman sitting beside Shepherd pulled her hood even farther down as she bent over and giggled. The person sitting across from her kicked their foot against hers, and the laughter cut off. Seconds later, she sneezed. When she pulled a tissue from her jacket pocket and blew her nose, I shot Christian a startled look. It sounded like she had a cold. Breed don’t get colds, not unless they’re Relics. Were these people defects?
The only Breed I could definitively rule out was Mage. When I tested my theory by flaring, Niko’s gaze snapped up. He shook his head, showing his disapproval. Shepherd must have felt something, because he eyeballed Niko, trying to figure out what had him alarmed. Niko frowned when he didn’t read any guilt or regret in my light. Viktor had said no talking, but he hadn’t said anything about flaring. Because we did it in human establishments to avoid conflict, any Mage would have flared back.
But they didn’t. Not one of them reacted. Even if they’d chosen not to flare back, someone would have recoiled or sat to attention at the amount of energy I’d put out.
I brushed my hands down my jeans to wipe off the residual energy.
Shepherd reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a smoke. When he struck a match and lit up his cigarette, the woman sneezed again.
We all glowered at Shepherd as the van filled with smoke.
He didn’t need to verbalize a curse; it was written all over his face as he stamped out the cigarette beneath the thick tread of his boot.
The woman next to him fanned the air and then pulled her hood tighter over her face.
The next hour was uneventful, nothing but Viktor’s bizarre music selections to fill the silence. I kept my light concealed after that one flare, deciding it was prudent not to draw unwanted attention.
Eventually the van came to a full stop, and the eighties pop music did as well.
Viktor twisted in his seat. “I want everyone to follow behind me. Avoid eye contact, no talking, and conceal your light. Christian, did you bring any sunglasses?”
Christian reached inside his coat and pulled out his dark shades.
“Good. Claude, put yours on as well.”
When Christian put on his glasses, I laughed. He still looked like a Vampire to me.
After we piled out of the van, I took a quick look around. A loud whistle sounded, like the kind a referee uses. With our luggage in hand, we followed Viktor, our guests centered between us. Were these higher authority officials? Arms dealers? The woman who had been sitting by Shepherd was petite like Gem, but she could have been a dangerous felon for all I knew.
An automated announcement came on about warning signals at pedestrian crossings. The clanging grew louder as we walked along a concrete platform, and the whistle was near constant as a train went by the platform at a sluggish pace. The brakes squealed until eventually the train came to a stop.
Blue pretended to be messaging on her phone while Viktor looked at his watch. I didn’t bother to read the company name on the side of the train—it might have been Breed for all I knew. Viktor had told us to keep our eyes low, and that was what I did.
