Shifting Fate (3 page)

My heart was thundering in
my chest, but I managed to nod numbly. His hand fell away and I
quickly turned back to the painting, disturbed at how unprepared I
was for his casual touch.
Pull yourself
together, Brianna
.

He crossed the room to call
downstairs, and the movement caught my eye in the reflection of a
small, mirrored frame on the tabletop below the artwork. A sharp
intake of breath, and then I was wincing as I moved a few paces
sideways to stand where he’d been positioned when I walked in. I
stared into the mirror to find Logan, ten feet behind me, smiling.
Right about where I’d checked out his
assets
.

I closed my eyes for a long, horrible moment,
and then put my shoulders back and walked to my room.

When I returned—teeth brushed, hair smoothed
back into a ponytail, and fully dressed—Logan was uncovering our
breakfast dishes at the table.

He took note of my jeans and boots, but I
didn’t explain my logic. I didn’t want to think of the previous
day, of that slip-on tumbling gracelessly down from the second
story. I would just be prepared.

I sat, draping the napkin over my lap as
Logan joined me, and stared at the bowl of cereal in front of me.
It was the first time I’d been served anything other than epicurean
cuisine and I glanced at Logan’s plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and
toast. He raised a brow, then reached over to exchange the dishes,
sliding my bowl with one hand and his plate with the other.

I stopped him. “No, I just,” I glanced over
my shoulder at the closed door, “I didn’t know they had regular
food here.”

He grinned. “Next time, talk to Ellin.”

“
Good to know,” I
mused.

“
So, I’d like to go to the
Council archives today,” I started, hoping I wasn’t under some kind
of house arrest since the attack. When he didn’t argue, I
continued, “There are a few things I need to research, and I’m
guessing that’s the best place to start.”

I’d completely forgotten to discuss it with
Aern, of course, because he’d shown up with this … Logan. I shook
my head absently. “It will probably take me a few days, but I
didn’t know if the security updates were finished yet.”

Logan sat his napkin on his plate. “They’re
not. And it’s not the best place for you to stay right now, but I
don’t see the harm in going for an unscheduled visit or two.”

I silently breathed a sigh of relief,
grateful my protection was not going to be an outright prison. The
door opened behind me, and Logan leaned forward.

“
Now would be a good time
for me to make those arrangements.”

I turned to find Emily, smiling fondly as she
passed him on her way to the table, and decided she looked right
among these guards. She might have been my twin, but we were seldom
mistaken for one another. While I’d been tutored in language and
subterfuge, she’d been training eight hours a day, learning hand to
hand combat, weaponry, and who knew what else at the hands of my
mother and her instructors. Between that and the toll the magic had
taken on me, our mannerisms, our very bearings, were entirely
distinct. And her hair curled more, which I could never
understand.

Emily grinned at my cocked-head as I watched
her. “What?”

“
Nothing.” I smiled. “You
just look happy.”

She shrugged. “I know things aren’t perfect,
but they’re better. We’re better.”

She was right about that. Since our mother
had died, we’d all but been torn apart, shuffled through the system
by some preset arrangements in place from long before her death. I
didn’t know how she did it, how many people were involved, but I
knew it couldn’t have been easy. And I hoped she’d taught me enough
to be able to perform at least some of those deceptions on my own.
The last vision I’d had of her came suddenly back, and I returned
my spoon to the table. She had died because of Morgan. She had died
to save us.

“
Bri?” Emily said, moving to
stand.

I shook off the image, coming back to the
conversation.

“
What is it?” she
asked.

“
Nothing, nothing
new.”

Emily understood, if not in practice, at
least in theory. I didn’t think she would ever truly comprehend
what it was like to see our mother take her own life over and over,
when nothing could be done to stop it. Although the visions were
gone, the memory of them were not. They were there to be replayed
as often as my wandering mind would let them.

So I stopped it, focusing on my sister
instead. “It’s six o’clock, what are you doing here so early?”

She smirked. “Like you’d be sleeping. Aern
and I have some business, so I wanted to let you know I’d not be
back until this evening.”

“
No problem,” I said. “I
don’t know what to do anyway.”

“
You’ll figure it out, Bri.
You’ll get it and everything will be fine.”

I narrowed my gaze on her, knowing it wasn’t
that simple. Neither of us knew what her talent would be, but there
was some great power hidden within her that would allow us to help
Aern prevent war, to fulfill the prophecy completely. She couldn’t
pretend she wasn’t concerned.

She leaned forward, determined to change the
subject, and whispered, “What do you think of Logan?”

My cheeks flushed, but embarrassment was
immediately replaced by guilt. I had promised Emily no more
secrets, and I wanted to mean it. But she didn’t know about the man
in my visions. The man who was Logan.

“
Fine,” she said. “Don’t
tell me.” She stood, tugging my ponytail on her way by, and added,
“See you tonight.”

Logan reappeared, jacket in hand, and asked,
“Ready?”

I glanced at the clock. “Now?”

“
Probably best,” he said,
and I wondered if we were hiding this from Brendan, or possible
attackers, or if it had something to do with Aern and Emily leaving
as well.

I stood, prepared to question him, but he
thrust the jacket at me. I stared at it.

“
It’s chilly,” he explained,
as if that answered everything.

I slipped my arms into the soft, cotton
zip-up, and though I wasn’t exactly short, it dwarfed me. I started
to explain that I had hoodies of my own, but then I realized where
they were, along with most of my other things … in the room I’d
been shuffled out of. The room with the window.

I shrugged the jacket tighter, pushing up the
sleeves and flipping the hood over my hair. Logan’s mouth turned
up, and he placed a hand at the small of my back to usher me toward
the door.

The guards that were waiting there were not
Brendan’s. They were not even men of the Division as far as I could
tell. They didn’t so much as blink at the hand that rested on my
back, or the jacket that was clearly not my own.

They split into groups, two remaining outside
my now closed bedroom door, and two more walking the corridor in
front of us. When we came to the back stairs, the one with dark
hair waited, falling behind us as we made our way down. Logan
pressed me forward, gently leading me around the service entrance
to a small carport at the rear corner of the house.

Lining the curb were several new, black SUVs
with dark tinted windows and I cringed, feeling suddenly like we
were in a cavalcade of foreign dignitaries. But we didn’t get into
the massive vehicles, instead walking around the back of them to
what was unquestionably the coolest car I’d ever seen.

I was far from an auto
enthusiast, but it was hard not to be impressed. Polished black,
some modern blend of muscle and sports car, windows narrow and
tinted, it just looked
mean
. Logan opened the passenger door,
and I ducked into a charcoal interior of leather and chrome to
stare at a dash full of shiny swank emblems that meant absolutely
nothing to me.

He slid in beside me, and I looked up to see
the procession of SUVs pull out of the drive toward the main gate.
I glanced at Logan, who’d yet to put the car into gear, and he
said, “Seatbelt.”

I reached for the belt, still watching ahead
for the others. Through the trees, I caught a glimpse of two black
vehicles that had turned right, and assumed the rest had gone left.
When they were out of sight, Logan slipped on a pair of dark
sunglasses before glancing at me. “Ready?”

I nodded, not even a little bit certain now,
and the car sped forward, taking a hard right before turning onto
the service road. When the large iron gate opened and we turned
south, I was pretty sure Logan hadn’t cleared our trip with anyone
on the property.

“
Security,” he said, reading
my thoughts. He looked over at me as he took another right. “If no
one knows where you are, you’ll be harder to find.”

“
Clever,” I murmured,
thinking of how mad this was going to make Brendan.

Logan smiled. “It’s what I do.” There was
something mischievous in his tone, and I wondered if he’d know what
I was thinking that time as well.

The drive was long, or rather it seemed long
because Logan had avoided the downtown traffic in lieu of a more
scenic route. I slid down into the soft leather seats, pulling the
warmth of the hoodie up to my cheek as I watched the landscape fly
by. The material was soft and threadbare, the way they only got
after years of wear, and it smelled of Logan.

I reexamined the vision of him, brief as it
was, searching for a sign I might have missed when he was less
real. That’s what he’d been before, an abstract. And now I was
sniffing his coat.

I straightened, abruptly aware of how alone
we were. We’d been together in my room, but it was different
somehow, with the guards outside my door. Safer.

The car turned onto a narrow street, and I
began to recognize the area. We were nearly there. Council. I’d not
been to the building, not seen it in person, but Brendan had laid
out the property in detail only weeks ago. When Morgan was planning
attack. My eyes fell to Logan, who seemed completely composed, and
it lessened my sudden unease.

We entered the back of the property, driving
slowly up a narrow road, and eventually through a low garage door
that left us in what appeared to be the main building. Logan got
out, glancing to a small black dome that I was fairly certain held
a security camera, before coming around the car. I was unsure how
all of this worked, so I stayed where I sat until he opened my door
and held out a hand.

I grasped it, allowing him to pull me from
the low bucket seat, and didn’t let go until we were standing at
the doorway and Logan had to enter a passcode. The box beeped and
flashed red, but did nothing. Logan grimaced, shooting a glare
toward the domed camera, and pointed toward the door. A moment
later, it slid open, which meant at least someone knew where we
were. Three more coded doors, several long hallways, and a set of
stairs later, we were standing at a thick metal shutter. Logan
pressed his palm to a crystal pad and said, “Black.”

The shutters pulled back and a door slid open
so silently, I felt the need to whisper. “Is that your code
word?”

He glanced over his shoulder at me, grinning.
“It’s my last name.”

Oh
,
I mouthed, and he jerked his head toward the door.

When we entered the archive, I felt my intake
of breath. Brendan had shown me photos, but the sheer volume of
books could not have been accurately portrayed.

“
What’s wrong?” Logan asked
from beside me.

My hand fell from my chest. “How will I ever
find what I need?”

Logan looked disappointed. “I thought you
were a prophet.”

I stared at him, mouth agape, and he laughed.
“There’s a catalog, Brianna.”

Chapter Four

Archives

Catalog notwithstanding, this was going to
take me much longer than a few days. The room was immaculate and
organized, but shelves and shelves lined three of the four walls,
not to mention the other door that I had a pretty good idea held
encased documents that needed to be protected from the environment
because of their age.

I flipped through the index, not sure where
to start. I guessed there were at least mentions of what the
ancients were capable of, some reference to powers that I could use
to help Emily. It would probably be fairly old, maybe around the
time their gifts had started to fade. But I wasn’t even sure they’d
realized it right away. If they had, did they have the knowledge to
understand it? Even today, with science and doctors, Morgan had
been unable to advance his talents on his own. He’d only been able
to use what my mother had given him.

I concentrated, trying to remember what she’d
told me about them, but suddenly realized Logan was studying the
way my eyes scrunched up. “You know,” I said, “this is going to
take a while. You could go—”

The expression on his face
stopped me, a clear
no
.

“
Right. Okay then.” I stood,
walking to the far wall to retrieve several of the old records of
the dragon line, Aern’s line. And Morgan’s.

When I returned to the table, I spread them
out, hoping one would jump out at me. It did not. I slid a random
one forward, opening the carved leather binding to slightly
yellowed pages. It wasn’t written in the ancients’ language, so I
knew I hadn’t gone far enough, but I read a few bits anyway, trying
to get a feel for how they kept records. Before long, I was
engrossed in the lengthy Council reports and goings on, forgetting
about Logan, who’d taken to pacing the shelves at the far side of
the room.