“Doesn’t matter. I still shot him.”
“It was an unfortunate accident,” Isleen said. “One you cannot afford to dwell on if you are to complete the task ahead. Much depends on our success. There will be time for self-pity at a later date.”
“For you, maybe.”
Alex winced. Isleen only tightened her fingers around the steering wheel. The leather cover creaked.
I recognized our new direction. She made another turn. A block away stood the fading, deteriorating skeleton of the Capital City Mall. Abandoned fifteen years ago when the new mall opened uptown in Briar’s Ridge, Capital City had slowly rotted away. The vast parking lot was cracked and overgrown with grass and weeds. Time chipped away at the paint and tile walls, mottled glass doors, and rusted delivery bays. Graffiti adorned surfaces no longer repainted.
It was shaped like a U, with the main entrance on the front curve and anchored on both ends by former department stores. Isleen drove across the rear parking lot, and we entered the interior of the canyon, straight across pavement that had once been the patio of a diner, and into a wall.
At least, I thought it was a wall.
But it turned out to be an impressive illusion of a wall, because we drove right through it—down the mosaic tile corridor, past a row of boarded-up storefronts, and straight to the center of the mall. Skylights illuminated a dry fountain that hadn’t run in years. Empty beds surrounded it, devoid of soil and no longer sustaining the dense foliage of yesteryear. It smelled of dust, dry and lonely, and something else I couldn’t place. Something faint, hinting at power. It buzzed in the air, a gentle caress from an invisible hand. I felt the energy of Isleen’s Sanctuary.
Alex and I climbed out on the driver’s side. I’d had my fill of going in and out of car windows. My sneakers squeaked on the floor and echoed harshly in the oppressive silence. We followed Isleen past abandoned kiosks, benches that hadn’t held someone’s weight in over a decade, and stores long boarded up and forgotten.
The odor of the hound’s blood followed us, absorbed in my clothes. I’d have to change soon or be stuck with the offending stench—not something I cared to live with. I’d been covered with it twice in twenty-four hours.
“Do you feel it, Evangeline?” Isleen asked. Somehow, her voice did not echo. It simply hung in the air.
“What should I be feeling?” I replied, even though I did feel it. There, yet intangible, like static electricity.
“You’ll know.”
“If it helps,” Alex said quietly, “I don’t feel anything.”
“Nor should you,” Isleen said.
He shrugged it off, taking no offense at the dig. The shell shock seemed to have worn off a bit, and he was taking in his surroundings, absorbing salient details, remembering. I reached out and curled my fin-gers around his. He squeezed back.
Isleen turned down a narrow service corridor, past a bank of pay phones that advertised local calls for a dime. A few more yards down, she stopped in front of a veneered door. I stared at the blue plaque pasted to the wall next to it.
“Are you serious?” I asked. “This is the Sanctuary?”
She nodded.
Alex blanched. “The women’s bathroom?”
“We do not choose the locations,” Isleen said. “However, once the Breaks are discovered, we do what we can to protect them. Why do you think this mall was rendered inoperable and closed down?”
“Bad Chinese at the food court?” I said.
A flutter of her eyelids was the closest Isleen got to rolling her eyes at me. She pushed the door open. I swallowed before following her inside, prepared for an onslaught of horrible smells and disgusting sights—rotting waste and stained floors, stale urine and broken mirrors.
Instead, the faintest hint of incense, tangy and bitter, tingled my nostrils. Candles adorned the polished sinks and counters, their light reflected by the spotless mirrors. Plush, forest green carpet covered the floor. The stalls had been removed. Three toilets were covered and resembled comfortable side chairs. The air was warm, but not oppressive. It felt inviting, almost invigorating. All-encompassing. My entire body tingled. I tried to ignore it, to dim the sensation lest I fly apart.
“I’ve never felt anything like it before,” I said.
“This is the fanciest bathroom I’ve ever seen,” Alex blurted out.
“It is a Sanctuary,” Isleen said. Her voice adopted a sharp edge, revealing her protectiveness of the place. “It is no longer meant for its original purpose.”
Alex held up his hands in surrender. “I meant no disrespect.”
“I risk much by bringing you both here. The wrong person could do great damage with the location of a Break. Irreparable damage—”
“We aren’t telling anyone, I swear,” I said to stave off her speech. I knew the risks. I also knew I didn’t trust anyone outside of that room, except for Wyatt. I sort of still trusted Rufus, but that could swing either way. It all depended on his phone call at dusk. Still nearly two hours away.
“A
“I trust him.”
Under Isleen’s direction, I lay on my back in the middle of the plush carpet, arms at my sides, toes pointed up. The fibers were soft and smelled faintly of dust. Isleen knelt at my head. Cool fingers massaged my temples in gentle circles. Tension fled my body, replaced by relaxation and a vague sense of safety tempered by intangible power. I closed my eyes.
She placed her palms over my cheeks, thumbs still on my temples, skin unnaturally cool. She spoke words that I didn’t know. They sounded vaguely Latin, peppered with garbled nonsense. My mind began to wander, and rather than fight, I let it. I was both there and elsewhere, drifting along like a leaf on the wind. Back through recent memory: the car chase, interrogating Rufus, my first meeting with Alex. Into impenetrable darkness that seemed to last forever.
Until it spit me back out into dim lamplight.
And Wyatt’s warm, comforting embrace.
Chapter 16
May 14th
Lights from the street cut intricate patterns across the thread bare carpet of the motel room, shifting from red to green to blue and back again, all in time with flashing neon signs. I cannot sleep. Too many thoughts plague me. Fear of what lies ahead, affection for the man next to me, uncertainty of our futures.
Wyatt’s arms tighten around my middle. I tense, but he does not wake. He is dreaming, muttering. It may be a nightmare, but I allow him to sleep. If he wakes, he may want to talk. I don’t. I have committed a grave error by sleeping with him. I gave him an attachment, and Handlers cannot function if they are too attached to their Triads. It is their job to order us into dangerous situations. Into certain death, if need be.
How can he do that after proclaiming he loves me?
I consider sneaking out, setting off on my mission without a good-bye. It is useless. He is no Hunter, but he will know when I get out of bed. There is no sneaking away from him. But I cannot continue to laze about. I still have to clear my name and find justice for my murdered teammates.
My fingers slip around Wyatt’s. I draw his hand up to my mouth and kiss his knuckles. He stirs. His breathing quickens. He is awake.
“I have to go,” I say without looking at him.
“I know.” He kisses my bare shoulder. “Can I ask where you’re going?”
“Uptown around Fourth Street. I know someone there who might be able to help with information.”
“Who?”
“I’d rather not say.”
I stand up, feeling no shame in my nudity as I search for my clothes. Wyatt sits, the blanket tight around his
