Fracture (Book 1) Page 17

  “That was you?”

  What have they done to her? He was likely the only person within the compound who had expressed kindness toward her, but she had no idea who he was. Head trauma and concussions could be healed, but the memory loss that followed couldn’t.

  “I remember… but it’s foggy, like a dream. I thought it was.”

  “It wasn’t,” Jarrell said, finishing untying the knots at her wrists. “Can you stand?”

  She didn’t get a chance.

  The door opened behind Jarrell, bathing the room in light from the hallway.

  Lukas stepped inside.

  The dark elevator shaft was claustrophobic. It was lined only with dim service lights and a track that held the elevator car in position. The ceiling, hidden in the darkness above, already weighed down on him, forcing him to crouch lower, almost hugging the steel bracket to which the car itself was attached. He prayed he wouldn’t be smashed between it and the ceiling. He could have used a small fireball for light, but that might alert the magi to his presence. Even alone and riding atop an elevator car, he needed stealth.

  The three braided steel cables that pulled the car upward slowed as the car approached the third floor—Lukas’s compound. Assuring himself one last time that he wouldn’t be smashed, Jaxon peered through the vent into the car, where the unconscious magi sat tied to the folding chair.

  Here we go, Jaxon thought as the car came to a stop. A bell rang, and the doors opened. Shouts of alarm rang out, and four magi streamed into the elevator car to assist the incapacitated guard.

  “It’s Jared,” one said.

  “Get Lukas,” said another. He must have been yelling at someone outside the elevator, because nobody inside left. They were already working at the knots that bound Jared.

  “He was supposed to be outside,” the first man said. “What happened to him?”

  The second man stood up with a start. “They’re here.”

  They know we’re coming. What are we running into? He was thankful to be atop the elevator car so that his squad couldn’t see his uneasiness.

  The bell chimed again, and the doors began to close. One of the magi hit a button on the panel, and when the doors continued to close, he slapped it again, this time more irritably. Jaxon smiled. He’d cut that wire himself.

  As the doors closed, Jaxon wielded water and fire then projected it into the doors. Ice filled the crack between the doors, sealing them shut. Satisfied that it would hold, Jaxon stepped to the edge of the car and sent a small beam of flame down the shaft to signal his squad below.

  The elevator shaft went dark as they cut the power.

  “I was hoping it wasn’t you,” Lukas said, entering the room, a handful of magi following closely behind. Lawson must have found Lukas faster than Jarrell had anticipated.

  Someone kicked Reyland, bringing him to. He stood, woozy, fighting the vast ocean of exhaustion Jarrell had steeped within him, watching Jarrell with murderous eyes.

  Jarrell wanted to apologize to Kendyl, but the words caught in his chest. His nerves had finally caught up to him.

  “I wanted the spy to be someone… intimidating,” Lukas said. “Killing you will only look pathetic. Though, I must admit, I admire the strategy. I didn’t take you for the mole. You’re too soft, too skittish, too much of a… cleric.”

  The magi behind him snickered.

  “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Kill him,” someone said. “And throw his broken body onto Graeme’s doorstep.”

  “That’s exactly what I was—”

  The room went black.

  Someone shouted a curse, and fire ignited around Lukas’s arm. The magi behind him followed his lead and also wielded fire. Jarrell couldn’t make out much, but the confusion on Lukas’s face was evident. Whatever was happening hadn’t been by his design.

  The door burst open, and a young magi barreled into the room. “They’re here! Jared is in the elevator, dead or unconscious. I don’t know. He’s tied to a chair.”

  Lukas grabbed Jarrell by this shirt and shoved him toward his bodyguards. “Take him!”

  Reyland stepped forward, a dark smile touching his lips, and grabbed Jarrell by the neck.

  “Don’t kill him,” Lukas said. He rubbed his temples. “Not yet. I have other plans for him.”

  Reyland ushered Jarrell out of the room. The last thing he saw was Kendyl crying as Lukas yanked her from the chair.

  “There it is.” Nyla pointed to the sky above the compound, where a large orange fireball burned through the low-hanging clouds. It was their sign to move forward. Things were going according to plan. There was still hope.

  Graeme ordered them forward. Allyn wondered what they looked like—a group of men and women dressed in black, emerging from shadowy recesses and thick fog. They were a mix between a street gang and a military unit. Either way, he was certain it was an imposing sight.

  Nyla leaned close to Allyn. “Are you ready to get your sister back?”

  On Graeme’s command, the magi unleashed destructive creations of fire and ice, assaulting the compound. The soot-stained windows exploded, dropping the unsuspecting magi inside, and the compound rang with shouts of confusion, orders, and pain.

  A fireball erupted from the compound, shooting toward them. It was met midair with ice, and the flame was snuffed with the sound of cold water pouring onto a hot skillet. Lukas’s followers hurled fireballs and shards of ice in their direction, but they countered each before it became dangerous. As Graeme’s magi continued their assault on the compound, fireballs and ice blasts shattered against the building’s brick exterior, forcing the enemy magi inside to take cover.

  Fighting broke out inside the compound, and the magi at the windows turned to fight someone else. Jaxon’s squad had arrived.

  An explosion rocked the building, blowing out more windows, and a man was thrown into the night, falling three stories to the concrete below. Allyn turned away, but he still heard the man hit the ground to the sound of an egg cracking. He shuddered. That had been him. But unlike this man, Allyn had lived to tell the tale.

  Graeme jogged forward, his magi in close pursuit. He led them around to the back of the building where it butted up against another unattractive warehouse. Graeme wheeled a dumpster over and used it as a step to reach the ladder to the fire escape. He pulled himself up, and without waiting for the next person, he began his ascent. One by one, they climbed onto the fire escape, and by the time Allyn’s turn came, the steel brackets that fastened it to the brick building groaned under their combined weight. Nobody slowed. Allyn cursed under his breath, continuing upward, praying they didn’t fall.

  From the top of the metal stairwell, Graeme called for Allyn, and he squeezed his way through the others to kneel beside Graeme. Locking eyes with Allyn, Graeme stood slowly, peering into the compound through a cracked window. Allyn followed his lead.

  The upper floor was a mix of concrete and thin walls that didn’t reach the ceiling. Allyn had worked in a similar building as a cleanup kid during high school and remembered the way conversations drifted throughout the floor, seeping through uninsulated walls, only obscured by the banging of exposed air ducts. On the deserted floor, the sounds of workers’ voices and blowing fans had been replaced by the sounds of battle from the front of the building, where the battle raged.

  “I don’t know where she is from here,” Graeme whispered. “It’s likely she’s with Lukas, or he might have hidden her somewhere he thought she would be safe. We’re going to search the back of the compound first. If she’s here, we’ll get her and slip back out the way we came in.”

  “And if she’s not?” Allyn asked.

  “Then we’ll be paying Lukas a visit.” Graeme slipped a leg through the window and crawled inside.

  Di
rt and dust fell from the ceiling as explosions rocked the front of the compound. Outside, they were only loud and uninviting, but inside, Allyn felt them in his chest and under his feet. They seemed to blow through him. If Graeme was concerned, he didn’t show it. He stopped outside a door, waited for a couple of the nearest magi to take up position at his shoulder, and kicked it open. Magi streamed inside, ready to attack. The room was empty. Seven or eight bunks lined the wall, meaning Lukas was packing the magi inside like children in a classroom. They probably shared personal belongings, too.

  No wonder Lukas is playing the instigator. Tensions were brewing inside his compound. Cram too many people into a tight space, and fireworks would follow. It was only a matter of time before he had his own splinter to contend with.

  After they found the next two rooms empty, Allyn grew increasingly agitated. They were supposed to be able to sneak into the compound, grab Kendyl, and sneak back out, but as the minutes ticked by, the chances of that happening became smaller. “This isn’t working. We’re searching the compound when we need to be looking for Lukas’s room. That’s where Kendyl will be. Do we know which one is his?”

  “The one with the guards?” Nyla asked.

  Graeme shook his head. “Too obvious.”

  “His room will be the biggest,” Allyn said. “He’s not going to share a room with fifteen other people, regardless of how full the compound is. The question is, is it close?”

  Graeme traced his lips with his fingers. “He’s worried about detractors, and by presiding over their sleeping quarters, he could quell any growing dissent.”

  If Graeme was right, then this hall was like a barracks, and Lukas’s room would be private but near, allowing him to come and go as he pleased without probing eyes. It would have a back door.

  “The fire escape,” Allyn said.

  “What?” Nyla asked.

  “We walked right past it,” Allyn said, doubling back. He stopped at the window where they’d come in and poked his head outside, looking in both directions. The fire escape platform ran parallel with the hall, extending in both directions. “The platform runs that way until it ends at a window.”

  “But there isn’t a window over there,” Nyla said, looking in the direction Allyn pointed. “It’s just a wall.”

  “That’s because it’s on the other side,” Allyn said. “That’s Lukas’s room.”

  There weren’t any guards stationed outside the door, but that didn’t mean no one was waiting inside. Allyn stepped aside as Graeme came up behind him, and magi lined up, ready to storm in like a trained police force. Graeme held up his fingers in a silent count. On three, he kicked in the door, and the magi swarmed inside, Allyn with them.

  The room was sparsely furnished with a double bed, bedside tables, a dresser, and even a desk. Against the back of the room, along the exposed brick exterior wall, was the window he’d seen from the fire escape. In front of it was a metal chair with frayed ropes at the legs. Allyn felt a small glimmer of vindication push against his overwhelming sense of frustration. It was Lukas’s room.

  But it was empty.

  Allyn knelt in front of the chair, taking the ropes in his hands. They were oily and slick with sweat and blood. “She was here. She was here.” He threw Kendyl’s bonds to the floor.

  “Lukas will have her,” Graeme said.

  “Then our paths will finally cross.” Allyn’s voice was firm. “You can put your Family in order while I get my sister back.” Allyn strode past Graeme and back into the corridor. His plan was simple—follow the noise.

  He ran wildly, throwing stealth aside, as the rest of the unit struggled to keep up. He entered a large open room, startling a young man tasked with guarding the space. The kid squealed, and Allyn drove his fist into his face. He winced. The boy couldn’t have been much older than Liam and had the same awkward look of an adolescent trying to grow into his body. Allyn felt bad for the kid. He obviously wasn’t a threat, otherwise Lukas would have used him in the battle, and he was probably too young to have chosen to follow Lukas, but they couldn’t be slowed.

  Nyla forced him under before he could make more noise, and Allyn continued through the room. Tables and chairs were stacked on top of each other and pushed off to the edges of the room. Breadcrumbs, wrappers, and plastic silverware littered the floor. It smelled of cheap cafeteria food. The sounds of battle were getting louder.

  It has to be on the other side of—

  An explosion rocked the building. His ears ringing, Allyn found himself on the ground, metal splinters in his hands and arms, white dust blanketing his shirt. The chairs and tables that had been neatly stacked atop each other were scattered across the floor, and a four-foot hole had been blown in the concrete wall.

  Through the hole, red and blue lights flashed against the concrete walls like light from a police car. Magi on both sides of the room attacked from behind makeshift bunkers of brick, stone, and furniture. Within the confined space, the magi didn’t have time to counterattack, and fire exploded against bunkers and walls with a steady rhythm. This was the kind of battle where the more aggressive force won, and Graeme’s forces, who had been ordered not to kill unless necessary, were tentative, confused… and losing.

  “They’re pinned down.” Graeme’s voice trembled. How long had he tried to avoid this? “Stand back.” He formed something in his hand—a flame that burned inside a globe of ice the size of his fist. He hurled it into the room.

  The wall exploded, throwing unsuspecting enemy magi on the other side of the wall to the ground. Others dropped to the floor, shielding themselves from flying debris, while even more turned in shock to see a new force assembling behind them. The magi pinned down at the far end of the room charged forward, using the lapse in the battle to their advantage. They struck hard, using air to throw debris at the backs of their attackers. It was less accurate, but when it connected, enemy magi fell with a sickening crunch. Blood and broken bones replaced burns.

  Pinned down between two groups, Lukas’s force fought like a cornered animal—ferocious and with nothing to lose. Never surrendering, they forced Graeme’s magi to kill them to a man, cursing them until the end.

  The battle over, Graeme knelt beside the last of the fallen enemy magi, taking his hand in his own and whispering something to him.

  “That was well-timed.” The leader of the squad approached. Wisps of his shoulder-length black hair stuck to his tanned face, partially hiding his bloodshot left eye. His arms were covered with dozens of cuts and small burns. “Thank you.”

  “He was my nephew,” Graeme said, closing the fallen magi’s eyelids with his fingers. “His father believed in Lukas, and children believe in their parents. He never had a chance, Trevin. Please don’t thank me.”

  Allyn stepped over fallen bodies and debris. The floor was slick with urine, water, and blood. Worse than the sights of the battle were the smells. Small fires smoldered in scattered patches, and the smoke, smelling of burned hair and flesh, mixed with the nauseating smell of feces. A magi lay in front of him, his lifeless eyes open and gazing toward the ceiling.

  “They’re all family,” Trevin said. “It’s a terrible thing.”

  Allyn looked closer. Something about the dead man felt familiar, but he’d seen so many new faces that it was tough to be sure. He might have seen him anywhere. Or his mind could be playing tricks on him. After seeing enough people in a short period of time, anyone was bound to think he’d seen someone before. But something pulled Allyn toward the man.

  “A terrible thing,” Graeme agreed.

  Allyn barely heard him. Pinching his forehead, he closed his eyes. He still saw the man’s face, only this time—“He’s one of Darian’s.”

  Graeme turned to Allyn. “Who?”

  “I’ve seen this man,” Allyn said. “He smashed me against a wall during our es
cape from the Hyland Estate.”

  Nyla, who’d been probing the fallen to search for survivors, stepped toward him. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  Graeme circled the room, looking at fallen bodies. “He’s right,” he said. “Darian is here.”

  “What does that mean?” Allyn asked.

  “It means,” Graeme said, “this operation just got a lot more difficult.”

  Water poured from the elevator doors like a stream running down a rocky hillside. It puddled under Jaxon’s feet and around the bodies behind him. They’d pulled and pried, doing everything they could to open the doors, never realizing they were frozen shut. Jaxon had slipped in behind them, driving his elbows into the tops of the two men unfortunate enough to be standing directly under the service hatch. The two who had been prying the elevator doors open turned just in time to see Jaxon’s fists pummeling into their faces. All four lay motionless but not dead. He wouldn’t kill unless he had to. That wasn’t his mission. Death would destroy any hope they had of healing the splinter.

  Jaxon’s legs were weak. Freezing the doors shut had required more water than he’d expected, and water wasn’t as easily replenished as air. He was severely dehydrated and would have to take care not to wield too much more of it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it at all, but since water was the counter to fire, which was a magi’s favorite method of attack, he didn’t think that was likely.

  The sounds of battle had waned, as both sides were undoubtedly regrouping, digging into the trenches, and securing their positions. Jaxon worked his fingers inside the crack between the elevator doors and pulled. When they didn’t open, he put a foot against the doorframe for leverage and tried again. This time, the seal popped, and the doors opened.