INVISIBLE FATE BOOK THREE: ALEX NOZIAK (INVISIBLE RECRUITS) (12 page)

Chapter
Twenty-five

I was gulping air, my heart pounding, my muscles firing with after burn by the time my right hand swung back and hit the stone base of the stairway. If I had enough energy left to shout halleluiah I would have, but it took my remaining energy dregs to pull Sabina to the slab.

We both scraped our elbows on the level, gulping air like two beached whales.

“You really are a bitch,” were her first words.

I barely had the womp to turn my head and spear her with a glance. That’s the thanks I got? I
’d hauled her skinny ass this far and all I’d earned was another slap? “You’re welcome,” I snarled.

She ignored my sarcasm. Not easy to do as she asked, “What was that?” She gave a weak wave toward the pool. “You know. That thing?”

“Dead guy chasing us.” No need to freak her out and admit it was a preternatural being sent to kill us.

“Oh,” she released a sigh that sounded like it’d been pulled from her toes.

“What’d you think it was?”

“I dunno. A
golem or an Adaro.”

So maybe she knew a hint more about preternaturals than the average teen.

I shook my head. “I don’t even know what an Adaro is.”

“They travel in waterspouts. Come from a person’s most wicked parts. Hate humans.”

Fraulein Fassbinder, the IR instructor of all creatures mythical and dangerous, would love her. I knew I was impressed.

“Sounds like you know a few
scary things?” The words were out of my mouth before I could snatch them back.

“Yeah, live on the streets long enough and you know there’s a whole lot more scary out there than not.” Her voice trailed off, as if she
’d ran out of endurance, or decided even speaking about the bad things could summon them. Or maybe a little bit of both.

Since floating against the stairs wasn’t getting us anywhere fast, except more exhausted, I inhaled a deep breath and pulled myself out of the sludge, first elbows then knees until I could turn on the small slab, like a cat finding the best place to sun itself. Only there wasn’t any sun and as nice as a nap sounded it wasn’t on the agenda. I grabbed the back of Sabina’s shirt and hauled her up to land with a solid splat next to me. Not that there was a lot of room
. Space for two barely and not to do more than sit or stand.

She raised her head and looked up. “We’re going there?”

“Unless you have a better idea.” There was no sting to my words. I didn’t want to waste the effort. Though as I turned around to look at the worn rock stairs and the red glow at the top, I wanted to groan. The angle looked like the trajectory for Mt. Everest, nearest the peak, where most folks just gave up and died.

“Any idea where the door goes?”
she asked, her voice puny.

“Nope.” I pulled myself to my knees. “Best bet is out of here.”

“Works for me,” she mumbled, mimicking my moves. If I looked as all out as she did, I wondered if we’d make it to the top.

Needs must, Noziak. Get a move on it.

Then I paused. “Should wring as much water out of our clothes now, before we get topside. With as hot as it is in here they might even dry a bit.”

She nodded and we wrung t-shirts and pants as much as we could. It helped, a little, til
l she looked at my hands, which were more visible in the red light.

“I thought you’d be
en bleeding earlier, from your hand, but you’re not.”

I followed her gaze and gave a rough shrug, searching for an explanation that would make sense. I settled for a
half-truth. “I’m pretty tough.”

Liar. My hands
didn’t look any worse for wear, which sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with wet clothes. No way was I now a shifter. If I were, I’d have drowned in the pool. Wouldn’t I? So maybe the doctor had given me something to aid in healing. That had to be it.

To distract the girl, and myself
, I grabbed the metal rail along one side of the stairs to haul myself hand over hand as the legs weren’t fully cooperating. “First one to the door gets the first shower.”

“What shower?” she wanted to know behind me.

“Somewhere. Out there. There’s a shower with our names on it.”

“You sure?”

I choked back a snort. We’d survived Were attacks, imprisonment, near drowning, more Were attacks, and she wanted guarantees on a shower. “We’re in Paris. There’s going to be a shower somewhere.”

“
As if anyone in their right mind would let us in to use their shower,” she huffed each word and ended on a gasp.

I paused, hating the fact she was right.
I’d so focused on just getting out of here I hadn’t thought beyond that. That and killing Bran. So now what?

T
here was a silver lining. If we were picked up for wandering the Parisian streets soaking wet and looking like we did, we’d no doubt be carted off to jail. There they’d have to wash us down before they locked the cell doors. Wouldn’t they? Yup, it wasn’t much of a silver lining but I’d grab onto it. Plus, jail usually allowed a person one phone call. If I could connect with the IR team with that call, and if they were still talking to me, I just might get through this, whatever I was embroiled in. If I couldn’t contact them I’d head to the safe house, assuming they’d let either of us out of jail.

Suddenly life was looking better.

I started pulling myself upwards again. Until I reached the last step, Sabina hot on my heels and slapping one hand on the metal door before I could catch my breath. “Me win,” she huffed.

“Fine.”
I didn’t really care. Unless there was only one shower with limited hot water. Then all bets were off.

I grabbed for the handle and pulled.

But nothing budged.

Chapter
Twenty-six

If smacking my head against the door would’ve done us any good, I would have done so. Of course the bloody thing would open from the other side and it looked like it locked from there, too.

Sabina started pounding and kicking on it, tears tracking down her cheeks, visible in the red glow
leaking from around the door. I pulled her back. “Only going to waste what energy you have left. We’ve got to come up with a plan.”

“You mean like jumping back into that
pool? Your great earlier plan?”

That put some starch in my backbone. “Yeah, like that. Which did get us off a useless ledge.”

“So we can stand in front of a useless locked door?”

Well, if she was going to be snippy about things.

I turned my back to the door and slid down to a crouch. I was right. I knew I was, but I was also so strung out I needed a minute to come up with my get-us-the-hell-out-of-here plan.

Sabina joined me, vibrating with anger. Which wasn’t going to change anything.

So I just crouched there, my hands hanging useless between my bent knees, feeling the cold press of metal against my back, wondering what now.

“And you’re supposed to be this amazing witch,” she muttered under her breath as if I wasn’t right there, listening.

It took a few seconds for her words, and not just the tone, to register.

“Says who?” I asked, my voice having more oomph than I did right then.

She nodded her head toward the tunnel where we’d exited what seemed like a lifetime ago. “The assholes who’d wheeled you into that cell.”

Which gave me a whole new shiver of creepiness. “Who were they?” I was grasping at straws to make sense of anything.

“It wasn’t like they introduced themselves to me,” she snipped back.

I raised my head enough to cut a sharp glance in her direction. Not that I bl
amed her for her nerves. Much. “So why’d they take you?”

“Duh.” Now she sounded like every teen ever born. “I was plan B.”

“That meant somebody had a plan A.”

“You were plan A.”

Okay, a few more comments like that and I’d be having a full-blown panic attack. Except Noziaks didn’t do panic.

There was always a first time though.

“Any idea what plan A, or B, was?”

She shrugged.

I remembered words. The name Zaradian. And something more? But it escaped me.

There had to be a thread of logic behind whatever was going on. If I could figure that out
, I might know whom I was running from and how to avoid them. Sure, leaving Paris and wanting to race home to Mud Lake was a good start, though I wasn’t really escaping. I’d be returning. There was a difference.

Yeah, right.

The team would help me figure out what was going on. Maybe even help. If they hadn’t already written me off as a lost cause. So the plan was still in place, if a little rough around the edges. Find the team. Tell them what I knew.

Then find and take care of Bran.

Other snippets of conversation from before came back to me. I cut a hard glance at my companion. “You’re a witch, right?”

She gave a hard, tight nod. Like she wasn’t use
d to admitting such a thing in public. I could understand that.

“So whoever
is behind kidnapping you …” Another assumption. “You were kidnapped, right?”

“Give the lady a prize.”

I could get snarky. Really I could. It was my second language. My first when I was stressed, which seemed like every day since joining the IR Agency, but I was getting a little tired of getting chewed up every other sentence.

“I’m trying to find out what the hell is going on,” I snarled, having a much bigger bark than the kid beside me. “So get off your high horse and start giving me some straight answers. Got it?”

It took a few pregnant minutes before she offered a jerky head nod.

“So you were snatched from where?”

“
Les Halles
,” she said. I must have looked as clueless as I felt, so she added, “Near the
Fontaine des Innocents
.” Her
duh
was unstated but loud and clear.

“That a popular
place for teens to hang out?” I asked.

“Yeah. What of it?”

It was my turn to ignore her, the wheels turning in my head. “Who knew you were a witch?” At her frown I pushed, “Come on. Friends? Family?”

“My old lady kicked me out a year ago.”

I held back my surprise. She couldn’t have been older than fifteen or sixteen. I wanted to ask but that wasn’t going to get me the intel I needed and probably just piss her off again.

“So
… friends,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“My friends would never.” She shook her head. “
Non. Un acte de trahison
. Never.”

“In English?”

“They wouldn’t rat me out.”

“Somebody did.” I kept the words low-keyed, raising my hands in a half
—WTF gesture. “Someone had to have shared information about you to someone else looking for a witch.”  

“They
—” She jerked as if prodded with an electrical prod. “Aurelie.” Sabina all but spat the word. “That bitch. She’d sell her soul for a few
sous
.”

“Is this
—” I was going to say Aurelie, but changed my mind. “Is this bitch like you?”

“Is she a w
—”

“No, I mean is she living on the streets?”

“When she chooses.”

This
wasn’t getting me anywhere. “So how long ago were you taken?” I needed a stronger idea of what or who I was up against back in those cells.

“Four or five days. Maybe a little longer.”

“How long was I out? Since they put me in the cell?”

“About two days.”

No telling how much time had passed before that.

Then,
like a slap against my head, an image of a man in a white coat slammed into me. The one I’d held by the throat, watching his head dangle. And another man, with an accent. Without conscious thought my fingers went to rub my neck and shoulder, where once I’d felt scar tissue. Now even that was gone.

What the Sam hell was going on?

“We going to get out of here?” Sabina nudged me. “Or you going to keep meditating.”

Freaking out was more like it. So far my questions raised more questions than answers. Which wasn’t getting us anywhere. But I would get answers and soon. What
happened to me? Would the IR team help me? And how was I going to find Bran? And those were just for starters.

I rose to my feet, glad the door at my back helped to keep me upright.

“You got a plan now?” Sabina asked, her voice sounding wary.

“Don’t have a plan,” I admitted, stepping away and turning toward the door. “But I do have an idea.”

If Sabina’s face weren’t so exhausted, I’d say her eyebrows raised, but at least she’d joined me facing the door.

“Good
.” I hadn’t asked for her help. I could use it, but no telling what kind of state she’d be in if she pulled magic. Or even how much magic she could pull. Some witches were more focused on herbs and potions. True magic was way out of their league.

“What’re you going to do?” she asked, chewing her lip.

“Try a door-opening spell.”

“You mean like in Harry Potter?”

I gave her a get-real look. “No, more like this.” I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing and spread my hands palm forward toward the door. My Latin was rusty but the worst I could do was blow us off the stairs and back into the pool. At least that’s what I hoped was the worst.

I’d only used this spell once, years ago, to break into the
boys’ locker room at good ol’ Terreton Jr. High. It worked like a charm then. Well, except for setting off the fire alarm, when it backfired just a smidge, and sent a tower of black smoke barreling down the hall.

Best not to think about that too much.

I took one more deep breath and started.

“
Conivolus. Conivola. Conivolum.

Closed. Hidden. Covered.

Adopertus. Adoperta. Adopertum.

Veiled. Disguised. Hiding.

Clausus. Clausa. Clausum.

Impervious to feeling. Locked in. Enclosed.

Aperio. Aperire. Aperui.

Uncover. Open. Disclose.

To thine change. Through my hands.

Dissero. Disserere. Disseravi.

Unfasten. Unbar. Unlock.”

I pushed everything I had at the spell. Which wasn’t a lot. It took a few seconds before we heard a loud rumble, followed by a thud, then the door squeaked open.

Maybe I was getting better at this magic stuff. Or a hint more cons
istent. Wasn’t that like life, just when you decided to chuck something because you’d never get it and return to the way you’d always been, only then did all the practicing start paying off. Maybe now I could feel like I wasn’t such a loser as a witch. Being a shaman, which I’d barely touched understanding, was a whole other issue.

“Wow, you’ve got to teach me that.” Sabina uttered a low whistle.

I was too busy scrambling to wrap my fingers around the door edge to wonder if she had learned any magic before she was kicked out of her home. First things first though.

It took the two of us to wedge the heavy-assed door open enough to squeeze through
.

“Now what?” Sabina demanded
as I followed her and before I got my bearings. Once I did I bit back a groan.

We’d left a wide-open area for a claustrophobic-inducing concrete shaft filled with the fire-red glow. There was a small tunnel leading off of it at about thigh height and a second tunnel, straight above us with a rusty ladder th
at looked taped together. It led up, way up to where the red light pulsed through some scattered holes. Manhole cover? Probably.

I craned my neck as far back as it would go to judge the length we’d have to climb and the chances of the ladder surviving two of us scrambling up it. Not good.

But we’d already survived worse and were still kicking.

“My guess is one of us at a time can give the ladder a shot.”

Sabina was giving me her patented yeah-right look. “And if it crumbles?”

“Then the other one catches.” I didn’t say it’d be a perfect plan. With a quick glance at the cramped tunnel I added, “If the ladder breaks
, we can always start crawling through the low tunnel as a fallback option.”

“Why not
—”

“Because anything horizontal is going to keep us down here. The streets are above us so that makes
the most sense.”

“Got it.” I could see her weighing the odds before she asked, “Who goes first?”

“Since we don’t have a coin to toss and you’re lighter than I am, you head up.”

“And if I can’t get the grate or cover or whatever is at the top open, what then?”

“Then we deal with it.”

Was I ever this pessimistic as a teen? Probably, but sheesh. I added, “If I go and break the ladder we’re down to hands and knees through that.” I pointed at the tunnel. “You want that for sure, be my guest.”

Either my suggestion, or tone, got to her as she snarled, “I need a boost up.”

I cupped m
y hands, bent my knees, and hoped I had it in me to lift her high enough. I had no idea how I’d do the same maneuver on my own, but one problem at a time.

“Come on,” I snarled, feeling like
déjà vu all over again. “The sooner you go the sooner we can get out of here.”

She sucked in a deep breath and used my shoulders to steady herself as she slipped her left foot
into my hands. I was as surprised as she was that we didn’t both topple.

When I was sure she was as stable as she was going to get I counted to three and pushed upwards.

Must have had more in me than I expected as I thrust her high enough she easily reached the lowest rung of the ladder.

“Wish me luck,” she mumbled, her words echoing in the tube surrounding her. It’d be a tight fit for my shoulders given she barely cleared an inch on any side.

I swear each rung she climbed took as much out of me as her as I stood there willing her upward. At one point she hesitated, her breathing ragged, her heart near bursting as the ladder shuddered, but didn’t break.

All I could do was watch the light from the top become dimmer and dimmer as her shape blocked it.

Step. Pull. Step.

“Doing a great job,” I shouted from below.

“Fuck you,” came the weak response.

I didn’t blame her. We were both running on fumes.