“What in the name of all three Gods, Ez?”
Though I guess you could say that about me, as well.
“You were supposed to lose the trackers, not bring one with you!” The second we reach the alley where the others are waiting, both Cemmy and Chase erupt with rage.
“She’s not a tracker,” I’m quick to say—at the exact same moment the Indigo mutters, “I’m not a tracker.”
“But she is from the Academy.” Chase recognizes her every bit as fast as I did. “She’s the one who broke through the glamour and ran after us.”
She is?That piece of information doesn’t quite seem to fit. “I thought you said you took care of that Shade?” Though it would explain how she knew that I escaped with a Gold and a Bronze. Just not . . . anything else.
“I did take care of it.” Chase prickles. “I compelled her to keep her mouth shut.”
Yeah, well, the trackers compelled her to stay put, and that also didn’t stick.
“You shouldn’t be compelling anyone,” the Indigo snaps, as if to remind us that she can hear. “Stealing magic is illegal.”
“Everything we do is illegal.” Chase bites in reply. Then to me he says, “You better have a damn good reason for this.”
Reason, yes. Good one . . . not exactly. Because how am I supposed to admit that I put their lives at risk over a few words that reminded me of Eve, or that I have no idea why those words possessed me to bring the Indigo along, other than they just did, that leaving her there felt like the wrong decision.I don’t knowisn’t going to cut it as an answer here, so instead of offering them a good reason, I settle for a viable excuse.
“She’s an Indigo and her power might come in useful,” I say, lacing the lie with conviction.
Because when you’re on the run, the future makes for a good ally.
CHAPTER 12
RAYA
For the longest time, I didn’t see the point in seeing the future. Sure, my parents were renowned for it—built their wealth on it, even, and their reputations—but to me, the rules had always felt too rigid, the questions too particular, and I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to spend their days searching out answers that might still change.
The change is the point, Raya, my mother had said, every time until I stopped asking.If you can’t change the future, then there’s no point in being able to see it, and there’s no point in being able to see it if you don’t mean to enact change.It took me years to get my head around that idea, to accept that the choice to see is in itself a change to the paths we tread. It’s destiny and free will all at once, a snake that’s eating its own tail—and it can steer you in any which direction. Towards the right path, yes, but sometimes, towards the wrong one, as well.
So incredibly wrong.My mouth tastes of copper and the rest of me feels like lead, my head throbbing as though it’s been struck by lightning. Pieces of the day assault me in broken fragments: my open question, the fight with Killen, an execution stayed with stolen magic and a vision that led to a Hue and an iron hell.
But at least the nausea’s gone . . .I don’t remember exactly when I lost consciousness, but I’m fairly certain that I was still out in the street, in the physical realm, in the company of three illegal half breeds who were brazenly discussing my fate. My potential usefulness. Whereas now, the world has dulled to a colorless haze, a caress of shadows swirling gentle circles around me.
The Gray.
I’m back in the Gray.
Where my power can replenish and the pain will eventually abate.
But where in the Gray?My relief is brittle and short-lived.Because the room I’m in is entirely unfamiliar, and when I try to move, a shooting pain in my wrist keeps me firmly anchored in place.
Oh, crap—and this cuff’s iron.I force in a breath to quell the panic. In the shadows, the metal won’t sicken me or sap my strength, but as long as it’s encircling skin, it will keep me tethered here, both to the Gray and to the pipe it’s attached to. A pipe in an abandoned house, by the looks of things, so run-down that even the shadows can’t disguise the wealth of grime and decay. Soot-burned brick, moldy plaster, a termite-bitten floor, derelict to the point of condemned.
And yet this pipe is rock solid.No matter how hard I try to wrench it off the wall, the cracks in the mortar won’t give, even despite their crumbling texture.
“It’s been reinforced with magic,” a voice says from the doorway. His voice—the Hue; I recognize the deep tenor and the bitter edge, though it’s no longer laced with the fuzzy slur of drink. He’s sobered up since we escaped the tavern, which means that I’ve been out cold for an hour or two, at least. Maybe longer. Since all the windows in this room are boarded up, it’s impossible to tell.
“You do realize this won’t hold me forever,” I bluff, staring daggers as he folds down to sit opposite me, legs crossed with his elbows resting on his knees. An Orange could spell this cuff open with a snap of their fingers, a Yellow could turn the pipe to spaghetti, while a Blue could cause it to rust so fast it simply withered away. For a Shade with an active power, this tedious ring of metal barely presents a challenge, let alone a threat. And this Sapphire doesn’t know I’m a—
“You’re an Indigo.” He meets my lie with the truth and a pointed glare. “Your power is passive. It can’t affect the cuff.”
Damn it. My stomach gives a painful lurch. He knows what I am. That he’s got me well and truly trapped here.
“Did you figure that out with your gift?” I ask, refusing to betray fear.
