The Shadow Society (30 page)

“Our intelligence indicates that the IBI has beefed up security for this Friday night,” said Meridian. “I suppose they finally realized that there are going to be thousands of stupid sheep milling around the downtown area, eager to count down to the New Year together, outside in the freezing cold.”

Orion rolled his eyes. “Humans.”

“So the IBI has appointed a head of security,” said Meridian.

“He’s good,” said Orion. “We want you to eliminate him.”

“You—” I stuttered. “You want me to
kill
someone?”

Orion snapped his fingers and pointed at me like I’d guessed a trivia question and was about to win a prize. “Exactly,” he said. “His name is Connor McCrea.”

41

“Conn—” I stumbled over his name. “Connor McCrea?”

Veldt shot Orion an outraged look. “I know who you’re talking about, and I know that you’re setting her up to fail. I can’t believe you’re using the greatest moment in our history for a personal vendetta.” He turned to Meridian. “I can’t believe you’re letting him.”

“The elimination of McCrea serves the Society,” she said smoothly. “He’s one of their most promising young agents and is personally responsible for the arrest of several Shades.”

“Yes,” said Veldt, then added sarcastically, “Since we’re assigning impossible tasks, we may as well tell Darcy to kill Fitzgerald, too.”

“Fitzgerald is
old
.” Orion gazed steadily back at Veldt. “Old trees topple on their own. It’s the strong saplings you need to worry about.”

Veldt crossed his arms. “Like I need to worry about you?”

“Darcy should be
eager
for this task,” said Orion. “McCrea was the one who arrested her.”

I looked at Orion. Fear frosted my heart. “How do you know that?”

“I read the arrest docket. I’ve been … curious about certain things. Yesterday, I decided to do some research at the IBI, and discovered that McCrea’s debrief after your arrest is highly classified. In fact, the level at which information concerning Darcy Jones is protected seems, well,
unusual
. Even
I
wasn’t able to find much, which makes me suspect that the IBI is taking care to hide this information from Shade eyes. Of course, with due time, I could delve much deeper into this mystery. Unless”—he lifted a hand toward me, palm up—“Darcy would like to fill in the blanks.”

I swallowed. “I have no idea why the IBI would classify anything about me.” Orion’s smile told me I was going to have to try harder. “Well, I’m a Shade, right? I guess the IBI keeps most Shade arrests under wraps. For, um, reasons of national security. And in this case, I was a Shade raised by humans. Maybe, since I was … different, they found that interesting.”

“Interesting,” said Orion. “Do you know what
I
find interesting?” He turned to address everyone in the room. “The fact that the one thing I overheard about Darcy Jones’s arrest—a little thing, a bit of gossip one IBI agent mentioned to another over a cup of coffee—is that, in the Alter, when she still thought she was human, she and McCrea were dating.”

There was a gasp. It might have come from me. “That’s not true,” I said.

Sweetly, Orion said, “I don’t believe you.”

“We were class partners, but that was an assignment, for English class, which is totally normal in high school. In the Alter, at least. Obviously I didn’t
know
—”

“Shut up,” Orion snapped. His faked easy manner was gone. “If you did care for him, that’s all the more reason for you to kill the man who tricked you. If you did not, you should have no problem doing this small favor for the Society. If, that is, you are truly one of us.”

Veldt, whose expression had tightened when Orion had said the word “dating,” muttered, “If we have a viper in our midst, better that we know it now.”

“Indeed,” said Meridian. “Well, Darcy? What is your answer?”

I knew what Conn would want, if he were here. Say yes, he’d tell me. Say it, because if you don’t you’ll never learn anything else about New Year’s Eve. Your cover will be blown. They will guess the truth lurking under Orion’s accusations.

The truth that somehow, some way, a Shade had fallen in love with a human.

“Will you kill him?” Meridian pressed.

It was one lie I couldn’t bear to tell.

“No,” I said, and ghosted before they could seize me.

*   *   *

I
FLEW THROUGH
the city in a daze, watching the silver sun climb in the sky. It was only when its light struck the skyscrapers downtown and transformed them into shining icicles that that brightness cut through my misery.

I had to warn Conn, I realized. If I couldn’t do anything else, I had to do that.

But not in person. I didn’t have the strength for it.

It was Saturday, so I couldn’t count on him not being home. The coward in me wanted to wait until a workday, when he’d be at the IBI, but who knew what Meridian and Orion might try before then?

I waited until noon, when I wouldn’t cast a shadow. Then I went to his house.

I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t what I found. Conn was sitting on the back porch without a coat on. He was wearing the same clothes he’d had on last night, as if the moment he’d woken up and discovered I wasn’t there he had walked right out of the apartment to wait.

To wait for me.

Conn’s face looked fragile, like something that might break. And when I saw that, something broke inside of me, and I almost appeared, almost called to him.

I caught myself. His expression might have had nothing to do with me.

And if it did?

He wouldn’t look that way if he knew what my past really held.

I glided toward a tree, and as the sun slipped down the sky my shadow mingled with the ones thrown by a network of branches. I waited, and he waited, and I wondered if he somehow knew I was there, breaking my promise never to spy on him again.

At dusk, when all the shadows had blended into darkness, he burst from the porch in a furious movement. He leaped down the steps and stalked across the snow to the street. Then down the street and around a corner.

He was gone. He had given up.

I told myself that this was a good thing.

I slipped into his apartment, and the scent of it knocked me back into my body. Turpentine. Basil. And Conn.

I wobbled on my feet and caught my breath.

I didn’t want to stand on his wooden floor, to feel and hear the creaks echoing the ones we’d made last night as our feet found their way to his bed. I didn’t want to see the undone blankets. I didn’t want to climb inside them, touch his pillow, and press my face against it.

But the universe didn’t seem to really care about what I wanted.

I forced myself not to look at the painting in the center of the room—I’d never finish it now—and went into the kitchen for the pad of paper Conn had used last night to write down Kellford’s address. I tore off a sheet. Every word hurt to write, because they were the last words I would say to him, so I wrote as few as possible.

I think Meridian’s attack will take place near Cecil Deacon’s home. I’m not part of their plans anymore, so they’ll probably send Veldt and Loam to cause a panic that will herd humans into danger.

Convince Director Fitzgerald and the mayor to cancel any New Year’s Eve celebrations. Impose a curfew. It’s the only thing you can do, because Meridian’s counting on thousands of people being in the streets.

Please do it. They want to kill you, too.

Be careful.

Goodbye,

Darcy

I folded the sheet of paper and set it on the bar. Then I left.

*   *   *

F
OR DAYS,
I stayed a ghost. It was weird to think that every hour I remained like this was another hour padded onto my life, but that was definitely the lesser of two evils. The greater evil would have been to have a body that made me really
feel
, made my heart cramp in pain and my stomach clench with guilt.

You can’t cry if you don’t have any tears, or eyes, or lungs.

One downside of ghosthood, though, was that I never got tired, and every time night came I couldn’t help wondering if Conn was sleepless, too.

When Thursday dawned, I had had enough. Why was I lingering in this world, anyway? There was nothing for me here but bad memories, and I’d done what I could to help the IBI. As for Conn …

Conn would be all right. I couldn’t contemplate any other possibility.

I floated north over Lake Michigan, then picked up speed when I reached what in the Alter was Lincoln Park, and what in this world was another cemetery. I darted through the graves, looking for the mausoleum that had taken me to the Alter and would take me there again, to whatever kind of life I’d have there.

When I saw uniformed IBI agents standing in front of one of those small, stone mausoleums, I knew I had found the portal.

And I found something else there, too.

Someone
else.

A girl, flirting with one of the guards.

A brown-haired girl, tall and radiating sexiness, even though her body was completely swaddled in a camel hair coat.

It was Taylor Allen.

I nearly went solid with shock. “Taylor? What are
you
doing here?”

42

Taylor screamed.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, remembering that it
is
a little scary to hear disembodied voices. I manifested.

The guards screamed.

“Argh!” I ghosted again.

The guards kept yelling and fumbled for their flamethrowers, one of them smacking into another, Three Stooges style. None of them looked older than me, and I felt a burst of thankfulness that this portal seemed to be a kind of training ground for rookie agents.

Then they switched on their flamethrowers, and I stopped feeling so grateful. I just had to hope that none of them was primed to see my shadow.

“Taylor,” I hissed in her ear. “It’s me, Darcy Jones.”

“I know,” she snapped.

“What?” One of the guards swiveled to look at her.

She gave a short, irritated sigh. In a quavering voice, she wailed, “I know the IBI will protect me!”

“Don’t worry,” said the guard. “You’re safe with us.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the flames, and my shadow began to tremble. I had to get out of there or I would go solid. I whispered again in Taylor’s ear, “Cover for me, please. I’ll explain everything later. Tell them you see me somewhere else, okay? Then walk away—slowly, so they don’t think anything’s weird. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Oh, joy,” she muttered through gritted teeth. Then she surprised me by doing exactly what I’d said. “There!” she shouted to the guards, and pointed. “I saw her behind that tree!”

They took off running, and she sauntered in the other direction, toward the cemetery gate. I floated after her. “Thanks, Taylor.”

“Stop doing that! I will not have a conversation with someone I can’t even see.”

“It’s safer this way. Listen, I know this will be hard for you to understand, but I’m—”

“I know exactly what you are.”

“You … do? But how? And how did you get here?
Why
are you here?”

“If you want answers you’ll have to follow me home, and you will not—I repeat—will not talk to me until we get there, because I don’t relish the thought of everyone in public seeing me babble at myself like some straitjacket asylum psycho. Got it?”

I hovered and glanced back at the unguarded portal.

Taylor kept walking. “You’d better be behind me,” she called.

In a second, I was.

I followed her into the subway, where Taylor seemed to have no trouble finding her stop, if only because she laid a mittened hand on the arm of a college-age boy and purred, “Will you please tell me when we reach Old Town?”

Taylor’s trim, heeled boots rapped confidently down the streets of Old Town as if she owned all the luxury around her: the gorgeous Victorian brownstones, the intricate weavings of wrought-iron fences, the sidewalks meticulously swept clean of snow. My curiosity spiked when she took a key from her alligator skin clutch and walked up a stone front porch. She entered the mirrored vestibule, shaking snow from her coat.

“So, Taylor—”

“Later.” She opened her clutch, plucked out a lipstick, and began to apply, peering at one of the mirrors. Then she snapped her purse shut and walked up the gleaming wooden staircase, past numbered apartment doors. She flung open the door on the third floor and stepped into a living room with eleven-foot ceilings and elegant furniture, including deep armchairs and a high-backed sofa turned tastefully away from the entrance.

“Guess who I found,” Taylor sang.

A disheveled head popped up from behind the sofa’s back. “You didn’t!”

It was Jims.

I manifested. “Jims?” I breathed.

“Darcy!” He sprang up and over the sofa, and spread his arms wide. “You crazy Shade, you. Come over here and give ol’ Jims some sugar.”

43

I ran to him. I couldn’t believe I had ever forgotten, even for a few days, how good it is, how important it is, to have arms to hold someone tight.

“Um,” Jims wheezed. “I love you, too. I also love breathing.”

I felt something press against my cheek and pulled away. I reached into Jims’s suit jacket (Jims was wearing a suit?) and plucked a stick of beef jerky out of his inside pocket. I laughed. “Even in another dimension, you still managed to find this?”

“It’s not a Slim Jim,” he said, “but it
is
teriyaki flavored, with enough MSG to grow me a third arm.” He snatched it back and peeled open the plastic wrapper. “Delish.”

I heard doors slam and feet bounding down a hall. Raphael burst into the living room, with Lily right behind him. Raphael reached me first, swinging me into the air with his strong arms, murmuring something in Spanish that I hoped meant he’d never let me go.

“Hey, man.” Jims poked Raphael in the shoulder and nodded at Lily.