Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (43 page)

Bike Boy lunged. Jeeves twisted, attempting to block the attack.

But it was too late.

Gilroy dropped, his neck twisted at an awkward angle, his mouth open wide in pure terror.

The Aquidae turned, ready to re-engage with his new target.

Jeeves attempted to dodge the attack, but he was off-balance and in a disadvantageous position.

Bike Boy hammered his fist into Jeeves’ thigh. He cried out, face white with pain as he dropped to one knee.

No, you don’t.

I raced across the room and jumped over two fallen chairs, dagger in hand.

Bike Boy looked up. His eyes widened.

Surprise.

My dagger flashed through the air, carving a smile across his throat.

Blood gurgled through the wound. One more thrust through his Origin and he fell face forward, blood spreading an inky stain across the ugly carpeting.

“Jeeves.” I helped him off the ground. Daniel and Alex joined me a moment later and helped keep him upright.

“I’m fine,” he ground out.

Daniel took one look at his leg and shook his head. “He can’t walk.”

We needed to evacuate immediately. I glanced up at the cameras mounted in every corner.
 

Footage streamed to Haverleau security. It would take at least another twenty minutes for first responders to show up.

I accessed Rhonda’s computer and pulled up the security footage for the alley where we’d parked our car.
 

Two more Aquidae waited outside. The reinforced steel made it impossible for them to get in, but it also made it impossible for us to get out.

The only way out was through Daniel’s office in the main building of Lyondale Hospital.

“Come on.” I pulled Helene’s wrist and kept her close by my side.

Alex and Daniel helped Jeeves off the ground.
 

We’d just made it down the first flight of stairs into the connective corridor when he spoke.

“Hello, Kendra.”
 

Oliver Moreaux lounged against the concrete wall, his portly figure appearing menacing in the dim, yellow light. Gone was the warm, slightly absent-minded demillir who’d exuded gentle understanding.

Now there was only cold calculation, a thin veneer of control restraining an endless hunger for violence.

An Origin scar gleamed on his neck, the pale discoloration stark against his Florida tan.

Weariness settled over me. Someone else we hadn’t been able to find in time.

“I guess you finally decided to return.” I positioned myself in front of the others. Damn, my knee hurt. “Not going to lie. I wish it were under different circumstances.”

He shrugged. “We all wish for things we can’t have. It’s normal.”

Jeeves was injured. Daniel and Helene vulnerable.
 

Alex and I couldn’t protect all of them.

“No one needs to get hurt. Let us go.” I paused. “Don’t make me kill you.”

He smiled, his teeth glinting under the harsh lights like knives. “You’re injured. You’re in a confined space. I’m the one that’s killing you.”

He moved.

I shoved Helene behind me. “Go!”

Their only shot was to return to the elemental wing, barricade themselves in one of the rooms, and wait for help.

Oliver struck. My arms flew up in a block, took the brunt of the blow. My bones lit on fire.

I kicked, my foot smashing his ribs.
 

Daniel and Alex helped Jeeves to the stairs. Helene remained frozen against the far wall.

“Helene.” I dodged a punch. “Go!’

Her eyes widened. She turned and ran.
 

Oliver grabbed my shirt. He yanked, dragging me further down the corridor away from them. Helene made it up the stairs and into the wing. The door shut behind her.

Unsteady, I stumbled and my knee twisted again. Oliver shoved me face first against the concrete wall.
 

I turned my face aside at the last second. My body exploded with pain. It shattered through my cheekbone and skull, ripping through my knee and leg.

I jammed my elbow back. He grunted.

I ducked, whipped my blade around, and caught his chest.

A diagonal slash of black seeped through his shirt.

The skin near the superficial cut sizzled, the regeneration process quickly kicking in.

I needed more space.
 

I ran.

My legs shook, barely able to support my weight.

Faster
.

I lurched up the steps and rammed my shoulder into the door.
 

I tumbled into the waiting area.

A hand locked around my ankle in a steely grip.

I toppled forward, hands barely bracing my fall.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I clawed the floor, trying to gain traction, but his hold was too strong.
 

I twisted around.

Oliver’s face, the kind face that had once comforted me at the Governor’s Ball, was now a twisted mask of rage and hatred.

“You can’t run, Kendra. You could never run —“

The shot cracked like thunder.

Oliver jerked.

A black inky stain bloomed on his shoulder. He tilted his head slowly, his eyes widening in disbelief.

He turned back to the door and faced his unseen opponent in the corridor.

The second shot caught him in the neck, directly in the Origin.

The force of impact snapped his head back.
 

Oliver froze. His mouth formed a soft O as if he were about to ask a question.

I scrambled out of the way.

He landed beside me, legs splayed, eyes glassy and lifeless.
 

Black blood spilled from the perfect gunshot wound and stained the linoleum floor.

Stunned, I turned.

She stood halfway down the corridor, arms raised, feet braced, weight perfectly balanced to hold the gun steadily ahead.

Sandwiches and soda cans littered the ground beside her.

“Chlo,” I whispered.

She lowered the gun, her face blank and cold.
 

She approached, unsteadily at first, her ankle giving slightly as if unable to hold her own weight.

Then she straightened and walked through the blood of someone who’d once vowed to love and protect her forever.

She knelt and wrapped slender arms around the body.

I knew the strength of those arms.
 

But now I could only see their frailness, the tremors uncontrollably spilling through them as she pulled him close.

“Dad.”

The word echoed in the stillness, both a prayer and a curse.

TWENTY-SEVEN

A gurney squeaked past the door, the body covered by a white sheet. Given the odd contour near the top, I assumed it was Bike Boy. They’d left his helmet on.

The Healer finished working on my knee and reeled in her magic. I extended my leg a few times. Residual magic tingled beneath my skin, but the pain had significantly lessened.
 

“Be careful with how much stress you put on it.” She stood. “Looks like you’ve injured it a few times.”

If she only knew.

“It’ll be fine.”

She briskly cleaned up the exam room, her movements efficient and controlled. Her curly black hair was neatly tied back and the crisp button-down shirt and no-nonsense khakis she wore were both perfectly pressed.

I’d never seen her before. “Are you a Healer at the Academy?”

She nodded. “I just started there. I’m one of the transplants from Merbais.”

“Did you know a Healer named Noelle Rossay?”

She paused, surprise flitting across her face. “Noelle and I worked together often. How do you know her?”

“Her sister is a friend of mine.”
 

Our current status remained unclear. Chlo and Aubrey both were losing every single person they cared about. They were dropping like flies and at this rate, I doubted how long they’d stick around me.

She sighed and plucked a loose thread off her pants. “Everything is simply a disaster. First Merbais. Then this. I was working at the clinic when the call came in. I thought things were supposed to be different here. More secure.”
 

“You refused to treat Helene.”

She shot me a pinched look. “It is wholly within my rights to refuse treatment.”

“But why?”
 

Her expression turned incredulous. “Isn’t what happened reason enough?” She gestured toward the hallway. “We are meant to nurture magic, not run out with blades and guns. I will not contribute to the continued moral decline of young ondines!”

I restrained the strong urge to kick her. “Did you ever stop to think that if you had learned basic defense skills Noelle would still be here?”

She paled. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“It always matters.”

She pursed her mouth and quickly gathered up her things. “I’m sure you believe that. But I think you should consider yourself lucky that nothing worse has happened to you than an injured knee.”
 

If she knew how many times my bones had been broken and healed within the past month, she’d probably drop dead of a heart attack.

She couldn’t leave without a last parting shot. “But a warning. That knee is about to permanently give out. Magic won’t keep you walking if you continue to strain it. There are limits.”

I curled my lip. “I’ll take my chances.”

She departed with an indignant huff worthy of a preening peacock.

She was spared the death that had taken her neighbors and friends and was using that gift to prove her moral superiority. It was nauseating.
 

Exhausted, I wandered back to the waiting area. The first gardinels and chevaliers had arrived within ten minutes of Oliver’s death.

Selkies and demillirs now crawled over every inch of space, meticulously clearing the scene.

The Shadow executed his attacks with a disturbing talent for poetic irony. What happened here was no exception.

This was where he’d preyed upon the mortal weakness of Miriam Moreaux and turned her.
 

Oliver, her mate, had fled, blinded by grief. His journey came around full circle today by returning to the underground corridor where Miriam had been turned as the same monstrous entity she’d become.

And in the end, it was their child, an ondine once pampered and beloved, who brought the violent cycle to a permanent close.

The Shadow had coldly, logically, maneuvered the Moreauxs to be the unwilling centerpiece of this tragedy.
 

Chloe sat on a chair in the waiting area, her skin so pale it seem translucent. Her slender figure, wrapped in a blanket, appeared even more fragile than usual.
 

I slowly made my way through the bustling activity to my friend.

I didn’t sit beside her. I sat with her.

Soon, the person she needed the most would arrive. Until then, I would stay.

People came and left. Eventually the back door opened and Julian and Cam entered.

I shot Julian a grateful look. He nodded in acknowledgment, his concerned gaze drifting to Chloe’s slight figure.
 

Wordlessly, Cam strode over. For a few moments, he stood before her, body tensed.

She didn’t react.

He crouched and touched her hands. “Chlo.”
 

She continued staring blankly at the black smudge staining the carpet.
 

I left them alone and met Julian by Rhonda’s desk.

He opened his mouth.

“Your dad’s okay,” I said.

His mouth snapped shut. The briefest hint of relief flashed through his eyes. “Thanks.”

I nodded. The remains of Rhonda’s lunch were still at her desk. An open, half-eaten carton of greasy shrimp fried rice and an empty plastic sleeve beside it, open and crumpled, with “Golden Fortune Cookie” printed in bright red font.

A tiny, folded slip of paper winked in the light.

Instinct tugged. Slowly, I picked it up and opened it.
 

“What is it?” Julian asked.

The fortune cookie message jumped at me.
 

The truth will set you free, sondaleur. I’m waiting.

My fingers crushed the cheap paper.
 

“Kendra?”

I passed him the message.

“That’s how he did it.” I reined in my fury and gestured to the half-eaten meal. “She goes to the same place every Thursday. She must’ve ingested his blood through the food. She transformed within a window of about fifteen minutes.”

Julian immediately ordered a few chevaliers to check out the restaurant even though we both knew it was useless.

He asked the next logical question. “How did he know you were here?”

Paranoia crept up my spine. “Maybe the security feed —“

“That was the first thing we checked and there was no interference. They’re secure.”

Was he having me followed? Had he been watching the hospital, waiting until I eventually showed up?

Why?

“He keeps mentioning this truth.” Julian gestured toward the note. “What do you think he means by it?”

“I don’t know.” I paused. “But he used the same process on Rhonda that he did on Ian. He wants me to remember something.”

But what? So much of our time there was a blur, the never-ending darkness and days blending together into a mess. I remembered his words, his taunts, but I questioned my memory, the stability of my mind.

It would be so easy to dismiss the entire experience as simply a horrible nightmare that wasn’t real.

“Julian?” Daniel removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. “The Healer has finished up with Augustin. I’ve ordered him to remain off his knee for at least another few hours but he’s been very difficult to deal with. Do you think you —“

“Of course.” Julian followed him down the corridor.
 

I wanted to make sure Jeeves was all right, too, but I needed to return to Haverleau and head Patrice off.

I expected a significant fall out from this attack. We’d secretly taken a classified prisoner out of Haverleau and lost him.
 

Oliver Moreaux had been killed by his daughter. This attack might provide Patrice with the impetus needed to push her agenda through the Council. And with Jeeves incapacitated, no one could double-check legalities.