Reign of Shadows (6 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Brianna

“Do you realize how much planning went into this?” Brianna glanced at Aern, he and Emily standing in uneasy postures across the table from where she sat with Logan. “He would have had to think this through for who knows how long, deciding, without question, that anyone but me coming to find Brendan would result in their death. Simply so he could push that other vision, that false lead to get me alone.” She dragged a hand across the polished mahogany tabletop, turning her palm up when it neared the edge. “Why? Just so he could tell me it was them, that they were the ones who bound us?”

It didn’t make sense. None of it was playing out the way it should have. If that man—the one her
nightmares were warning her of—was looking out for her, then why did her very instincts scream
run
?

“Bri,” Emily said. “What happened?” She
would know it wasn’t merely the sight of Brendan’s mangled body that had her sister shaken. Brianna had lived her whole life with visions just as deadly, images of people closer to her than Brendan, torn and mangled, and it wasn’t a small thing to make her tremble like this.

Brianna swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing her gaze to meet her sister’s. “It’s like I can feel it,” she said. “Like he wants me to
know this was a gift.” Logan slid his hand into Brianna’s under the table, fingers lacing tightly with hers. The words made her stomach turn. “Like giving me Brendan means I owe him.” She closed her eyes for a long, horrible moment. “And I’ve seen what Brendan is now, seen what’s left of him.”

Aern and Emily stared, uncertain, but Brianna couldn’t go on.
Logan explained, “Apparently, this shadow has a talent for more than just sway. What Brianna sees is that when Brendan wakes up, everything we’ve known of him will be gone. He will be like a shell.”

Emily rocked back. “How is that even possible?”

Aern sighed, shaking his head. “It can be done. I don’t know if any of the Seven could have achieved something so complete aside from Morgan, but even before, both of us could erase small bits of memory here and there. Make someone forget a face, lose a few seconds in time.”

Emily looked at him. “Can you get it back? Is there some way to reverse it, like you did with Morgan’s men?” But
that wasn’t how it had worked with Morgan’s men. Aern had had to replace their direction with a new one; to supersede their orders.

He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Emily. I don’t think this
is something any of us can do.” His expression held an apology, but he would tell her the truth. “Honestly, the way it works, I doubt it’s possible even this shadow could help him recover.”

Emily’s gaze fell to Brianna, just as her sister’s
eyes opened. Brianna had seen what the future held for Brendan, and it wasn’t recovery.

Emily slumped into a chair. Death, fire, destruction, these were the things she expected they’d have to face. But she wasn’t sure what to do with the helplessness, the waiting. “I’m sorry,” she said to the room. “I know he was your friend.”

Brianna’s hand tightened in Logan’s, and she looked to Aern. “How did the meeting with the others go?”

Aern’s expression wasn’t a wince exactly, but not far from it. “There were mixed reactions. A few adamantly opposed and several perhaps too eager, but they understand what’s at stake. They trust you, Brianna.” He lifted one shoulder. “And then your sister whipped out her fire and pretty much destroyed any chance we had at peaceful debate.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “It was a waste of time. It’s not like we have a choice in the matter.”

She muttered something about brain-eating, fire-breathing bad guys, and Aern said, “
Seth and Eric are in the command room, Wesley was headed to the library.”

Brianna pushed away from the table to stand. “I’ll go to them.
Someone needs to tell Kara and Ellin about Brendan privately. They won’t take it as well as the others.” Aern dipped his chin, assuring her it would be handled delicately, and Brianna noticed that he’d worn a button-down shirt for his meeting with the others, though the sleeves were now rolled up to reveal his forearms. She glanced at Emily. Same white cotton top and sneakers; Emily didn’t know when the fight would come, but she intended to be ready. Brianna offered, “Seth is going to be able to move water. Maybe that’s something you might practice with next.”

Emily blinked,
clearly uncertain whether the recommendation was simply a casual suggestion or specific advice based on a vision. The idea that it might have been the latter gave her a visible chill, but she stood, grateful to have a new task. “Water.”

Brianna could tell her sister was considering where she could find
the largest body of water as they walked toward the door, so she added, “Start small. Think rubber duckies, not shrimp boats.”

“I was thinking ‘indoor pool’,”
Emily said.

The look she gave Aern was entirely sincere, and Brianna
couldn’t help but smile at them over her shoulder. “Whatever works.”

***

Eric was first. He might have had a few problems with trusting them, with following without question, but he was a strong fighter. Brianna hadn’t seen issue with using him in her visions, only the certainty that he’d die if they didn’t.

“You won’t feel anything,”
she explained. “Not until it’s there. It will be just like your other power, the same connection you have to the sway. Instinctually, you’ll know how to use it.”

Eric nodded, seeming smaller where he sat across from her chair, and she remembered the way he’d fought with Aern, how massive he’d
appeared when they were brawling through the hallway. That image—the very idea that Aern had distrusted him so much alone with Emily—prompted her to add, “You are receiving this gift in order to help preserve the Seven Lines. I want you to know, Eric, that it can be taken away.”

He stared at her for a moment,
evidently unsure whether he was being warned or if this was all part of the standard procedure. “Yes,” he said. “I understand.”

She reached for his hands, taking comfort in the fact that Logan waited silently near the back wall. The room was otherwise empty, a small office off the main command room with no more than a table and two chairs. Aern had discussed with the others what Brianna would do, and word of their plan had gone through the ranks, but they weren’t exactly advertising which of the Division
and Council men were being changed first. It wasn’t safe. Any of the others could be a plant. A shadow. All it would take was one whisper, one indication of what they were planning to do to set off a change in the futures that Brianna had seen, to cause them to lose the only chance they had left.

She didn’t close her eyes this time. She was
finding the connections quicker, the repair becoming easier. It might have been the only improvement, though, because she still felt drained afterward. It seemed like she’d been slogging through mud for weeks, sleeping in fits throughout the day and night. And the dreams weren’t helping.

She wished again that she could see what her mother had seen, could know the right paths to choose. The irony in having the incredible gift of seeing the future, of knowing what might come, and
instead worrying about the past was not lost on her, but she couldn’t help but wonder why so many people were struggling to control what was happening now. What in their visions had seemed so much worse than the images she was getting, the death and war and the destruction of the entirety of the Seven Lines? Or had the Seven Lines even mattered to the shadows when things had been set into motion so long ago? Had something changed in the thousands of years since their power was removed, something that she and Emily might be able to transform? Or was it simply another prophecy, as the dark-haired man had warned her of, the idea of them being able to change the future, of her and her sister being somehow important enough to warrant the conflict? There were other things that felt like they were missing, the unexplained and the too unusual to be coincidence. She understood the balance of power between the two of them, could see the futures where one failed to survive. And yet she could still not place the importance of herself and her sister to the shadows.

“There,” she said
, finally releasing Eric’s grip. “You may want to rest, but the power will be there soon enough. You’ll need to practice, to use it so that you can get stronger, fully understand how it operates. And be careful, Eric.” He glanced up at her, struggling to tear his gaze from the palms of his hands where he twisted them into the light. They would feel different, he would feel different. “It might seem as though you can take on the world, like you’ve got a power no one can withstand.” She touched his forearm, willing him to not simply listen, but to understand. “But the shadows are stronger than you. They will always win.”

The wonder fell from his expression, and he said, “What?” He glanced at Logan, back to Brianna. “Then why are we fighting?”

She pushed up from her chair, staring down at Eric with intensity, a solemnness that could not deny the gravity of their situation. “Because we have no other choice.”

She left him to feel out his new power, but Brianna wasn’t settled
by simply having another of the Seven to aid in their fight. She wanted to understand, to make the right choice. This wasn’t something she could do over; there was no going back to change whatever outcome her decisions brought.

She stopped midway down the corridor and turned to Logan. “I want to see Morgan.”

Taken aback, he stared at her for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Brianna returned his gaze. She was a shadow, a prophet, the person who would have to call all of the shots from here on out, and Logan’s protest fell silent. His eyes dropped for another long moment, and then he signaled to the man at the end of the corridor. “We’re going to Alpha Base. Sweep the room.”

“Alpha Base
?” she asked.

“Our channels are secure, but y
ou can never be too careful,” Logan replied. He gestured toward the now empty corridor. “Shall we?”

They approached the room just as Logan’s m
en stepped out and gave the all-clear. When they took their posts at the end of the hallway, Brianna said, “They work well together.” Logan nodded, watching her instead of the four of his six men who were posted in sight, and she leaned closer to whisper, “Do you trust them?”

He didn’t answer right away, understanding that she hadn’t meant the question lightly.
Despite the pause, Brianna knew his response was as certain as any.

“With my life.”

She dipped her head. “Right then, I think they should be next. After Wesley and Kara.” She glanced at the door. “This should only take a few minutes. And then we’ll head back up to the library.”

When h
e adjusted the holster at his waist, Brianna stilled him with a touch. “I can do this alone, Logan.” He leaned against the doorframe, not intending to let this one go without a fight, and she smiled. “You forget what I’m capable of.”

He didn’t speak, simply gave her a level gaze that said everything that was wrong with her justification. It reminded her with no shame that he was her guard, that he’d been trained for this, that she’d been captured twice while out of his hands. It said she’d walked right into a trap.

She wrapped her arms around her middle, moving closer to where Logan’s shoulder rested on the doorframe. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate what you do for me. Don’t think I don’t realize I need you.” Her words faltered a bit and she forced herself to look into his eyes, not the way his casual posture belied his determination. “But this is Morgan. He’s no danger to me.” She reached forward, hooking a finger into the hem of his shirt. “Not anymore.”

It was the touch that did it, she was almost sure. Though it might have been the way she’d spoken, or the memory of the last battle. Even the moments they’d shared in her mother’s cell, where Morgan had held her
for the last days of her life. But something in Logan’s gaze softened, and he said, “I’ll be right here.”

She leaned closer, brushing a soft kiss
over his lips, and said, “I wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”

He sighed, straightening. “You’re turning me into a complete pushover, Brianna Drake.”

There was a snicker from the end of the hall and Brianna smiled, patting Logan’s arm on her way past. Her hand didn’t hesitate in the least as she opened the door to the prison that held her mother’s killer.

Chapter Fifteen

Aern

Aern had told Kara first.
Word would quickly spread that Brendan had been found, but the whispers would say
rescued
, not ruined. Not broken. Aern had known Kara would want to do her grieving in private, that she’d not admit how the loss had affected her, and that she’d not want his company. Not after learning the man she’d wanted for so many years was nothing but a shell. And not from Aern, the one person she could find to blame aside from Morgan. The one person she’d never understood in the least.

Kara was a woman of duty, but her wishes, her beliefs tended to influence her command decisions more often than not.
It was why she’d held Aern accountable, why she’d not understood why he couldn’t have simply created the bond with Brianna and let the Division win. They’d been wrong, it would have never worked that way, but it didn’t matter. Kara would never forget the idea that Aern had abandoned them, even if she didn’t say it out loud. And Aern would always treat her as well as any of his soldiers, despite the fact that he’d long since suspected she left Council for what the Division had to offer, not because what Morgan was doing was wrong.

“Mr. Archer,” Ava said,
inclining her head in greeting as she passed him in the hall.

Aern
nodded at the woman in return, pausing momentarily before he knocked on Ellin’s door. They’d given Ellin one of the suites to recover in, and her voice was faint as she called out from the room within the apartment. As he opened the lever, he replied to let her know it was him and that he could come back later.

“No,” she said. “Please, I’m just… still resting.”

He walked through the front room, a pastel gray accented in navy and silver, pausing again at the entrance to her bedroom. She pushed herself up on a myriad of white pillows, legs hidden beneath a pale lavender comforter. “Please, come in.” She gestured to a carved wooden chair near the side of her bed, and Aern took note of the many books and pastries and half-empty cups of tea at her bedside table. Ellin had taken care of the Division soldiers, and it looked like they were repaying the kindness.

He rested on
the narrow padded seat, which placed the worst of her injuries on his side. She’d had some time to recover, but the damage was extensive. Her cheekbone was still bruised and puffy, and raised pink scars curled along her jawline and ear. Aern had been told of the other injuries, the internal issues that the surgeon had found, broken bones, severed muscle and nerves that would take longer to heal. But none of that was probably weighing on her as much as having to watch as Brendan was tortured, lying helpless while those same men destroyed her ability to fight back.

Her eyes were clear, though,
when he asked, “How are you?”

“You’re here to tell me about Brendan,” she said, pushing up further, straightening to see better past her still-healing right eye.

The hope in her expression made it clear she’d already heard those rumors he’d feared, made it harder to tell her what he’d come to say. They could have let this go, let everyone feel the relief of having Brendan back, let them see for themselves when he’d recovered. But Brianna had wanted it done now, because they needed to understand. To be prepared for the shadows. And because losing Brendan twice would be too hard.

Aern
didn’t want to hurt Ellin. Her father had been a Council elder; Aern had grown up with the man. Their lives had been changed when Aern’s father was killed, all of them losing some part of their family in the ensuing battle. Ellin had lived through knowing her own father had died protecting Morgan. She had made the choice to join the Division later, not because of her loss or those feelings, but because leaving was right. Because fighting the man who was systematically destroying the Seven Lines was the only choice she had.

“I’m sorry,”
Aern said. “Brendan was found, and he will live, but there is something broken inside of him. The men who captured you have taken his mind.” He let Ellin process the information, certain she’d only recently heard of Brendan’s rescue, then added, “When he wakes, he won’t remember any of this, won’t be Brendan. He’ll be only an echo of himself. Empty.”

Ellin’s
expression fell, shot through with pain, and then her brow furrowed as she sorted out his explanation. “He’s not awake?”

“No,” Aern said. “Brianna has seen it. Whatever they’ve done to him, it shattered his mind.” He took hold of her hand, the skin pale and pink and healing. “I’m sorry, Ellin. I know what he meant to you.”

She squeezed Aern’s fingers, the sadness in her eyes deeper than Aern had seen in years. She’d thought Brendan was going to die, thought she would have to watch him as he was slowly brought to that fate by the men who’d held them captive, only to be rescued, to be informed that Brendan was rescued as well. “He was never mine,” she said softly.

A humorless laugh escaped, and she shook her head at the irony. “Brendan belonged to the Division. He belonged to himself and the world he created. And now all of that’s gone.”

She pulled her hand free to wipe at her eyes. When she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, Aern could see the scars that ran the length of her neck.

“He saved countless men
,” Aern said. “What he established in the Division may have saved us all.”

Ellin knew that. She was as much a part of the Division as any of them, and more so the reason for its success. But she was right about Brendan. He’d wanted it fo
r more than just an escape from Morgan.

The room fell silent for a long while as Ellin processed the news. Nothing but the steady tick of
a vintage grandfather clock filled the time, almost hypnotic as Aern got lost in memories of Brendan, of his father, of a carefree childhood with Logan. When Ellin spoke again, it startled him, even though her words were a ghostly murmur.

“Who are they, Aern?” She turned to face him once more,
her scars distorting where she twisted her neck, recalling him to recent battles, to new fears. “Why are they doing this?”

“Because the stories are true,” he answered
evenly. “Because the shadows are real.”