Sister Assassin (2 page)

“What?” Adam says, his voice breaking a little on the word, like it's sharp in his throat.

Keane didn't send them, and I'm not their target, but now they probably know I'm with Keane. Well, thank you again,
north
. I really must be broken if trapping us in an alley with people who want Adam was the best I could do. “He's all yours. As soon as you tell me the password.”

“The password?” Dark hair too-thick muscles answers, and I wish it were only him because he is slow.

I laugh. “Kidding. I keep asking them to set us up with code words, you know? Cooler. Oh well.”

Stubble doesn't smile. He hasn't stopped studying me this whole time, and even though I know they're here for Adam (why, you stupid sweet boy, what is it about you?), I know Stubble wants me just as much now, if only to figure me out the way I'm desperate to figure out Adam.

Stubble gestures. “We've got a ride for you. One block back, on the corner of Fourth, black sedan.”

“Great.” I stretch my arms up like I'm exhausted and ready for a nap.

“What's going on here?” Adam asks, his voice tight with nerves behind me. He's still hoping this is some sort of elaborate joke. “I'm not going with anyone.”

“Nice meeting you guys,” I say, pulling my purse over my head. I throw it at Sandy blond with the gun, then drop to the ground and pull the knife out of my boot.

Dark hair is hamstrung before he realizes what's happening, on the ground screaming, clutching at his forever-ruined right leg. Out of the game. Sandy blond fumbles my purse, finally dropping it and going for his gun. I slash his right forearm—he won't aim as well with his left hand—but where is Stubble? I don't have a position on him.

Drop flat on the ground, now! I feel the whisper of a fist's breeze, then flip onto my back, kick up with both feet, and catch Stubble under the jaw. Stunned, not enough to keep him down; Sandy blond is swearing but about to pull out his gun. I flip back onto my feet, kick his hand (gun is on the ground, keep track of the gun), then a downward slam kick onto Sandy's bent knee. It cracks at the wrong angle. Now two of them can't chase us, only one left.

Arms circle me from behind, around my waist pinning my arms, and my knife is useless (bad bad bad—I am not big enough for this, I knew Stubble would be a problem). Slam my head back into his? No, he'll expect it. I go limp and slip down a few inches, freeing my elbow, no leverage but it's something. I jam my knife into his thigh but, curse him, he doesn't drop me, just tightens his arm and I lose the knife.

Someone yells—Adam, Adam is still here, I'd forgotten about him—and I turn my head to see him grab the gun from the ground. Sandy blond was reaching for it, but now Adam has it and I don't know if this is good or bad because his hand is shaking so much he could kill any of us and I lied, I don't want to die, I really don't. I'm not ready for it.

Sandy blond tries to stand, pushing himself up against the wall, but Adam screams, “Stay down! And you!” He points the gun at us and he is trembling—oh please, soft gray eyes don't shoot me. “Drop her! Now!”

Stubble backs up a step but doesn't let me go—he is squeezing so tight can't breathe—spots in front of my eyes. Please don't shoot me, Adam. I want to get to know you, figure out why you are in this mess, get you out of it. I want to see Annie again. James will be so pissed if I die. I'll never get to dance with James.

“Calm down,” Stubble says. “My name is Cole. We're not here to hurt you.”

“Put her down!”

“Adam, lower the gun. She's the only one here who will hurt you.”

“Then why did you attack her?” Adam's voice is shrill, tight with panic. My ribs, oh my ribs, they hurt.

“You're not thinking straight,” Stubble—Cole—says. “She attacked us. We came in the alley to help you and she attacked us.”

“But you had a gun!” He waves it wildly.

“And she had a knife. She probably has more weapons in her purse. I need you to help me. Put the gun down carefully, and then reach into my jacket pocket. There's a stun gun in there. It's nonlethal, and I'll use it only once to make sure this girl can't hurt any of us, and then we'll talk and no one else will get hurt. You have my word.”

I hate stun guns, I hate them so much. LET GO OF MY RIBS
.
I push my feet against the ground and slam my head up into his chin because he isn't focused on me anymore. His arms loosen and it's all I need. I throw myself back and twist and I'm free, my hand slipping into his pocket as I stumble away from him (oh my ribs, my ribs hurt).

But Cole doesn't come for me; he rushes Adam and the gun. Cole has the gun now. I drop to the ground as the crack echoes through the alley and I roll toward him, stun gun out into his leg with a sound as bright as the charge, and then he is down but he won't be for long, so I stand and jam the stun gun into his chest and he convulses and I don't stop until his eyes roll back.

Adam—where is Adam—the gun went off! Where is Adam? He has to be okay. I look and he's there, leaning against the wall, face white with horror. My eyes sweep his body. There is no blood, no blood anywhere, oh thank heavens he didn't get shot.

“You're okay,” I say, my shoulders slumping with relief. No, not relief yet, I turn and Sandy blond has a phone out, so I use the stun gun on him, too. He goes down faster than Cole. Dark hair is pale and vacant with shock, holding his leg, totally unaware of anything around him. He needs better training.

I pick my purse off the ground and drop the stun gun inside, then turn back to Adam. He's staring at me funny. Well, why wouldn't he be? I've shown him what my hands can do, and a small, worn-down part of me mourns that he won't think he wants to hold them anymore. I feel like I've lost something, but that's stupid. I lost it all a long time ago.

“I thought he shot you,” I say.

“Fia,” he says, his voice strangled. He's not meeting my eyes, looking down instead. “He shot
you
.”

I look down, too, and he's wrong, there are no holes in my body, but then I look to the left and my blue sleeve is soaked dark with blood and then burning (horrible ripping tearing burning) comes, focused where the bullet went through my upper arm but radiating out through my whole left side.

Well, crap.

EDEN PUTS HER HAND ON MY BACK TO LET ME KNOW
where she is as she moves around me in the tiny kitchen. “Thanks for letting me crash last night. The paint smell should be better by now. Speaking of, we should do your place next. The walls are a shade I like to call blindingly depressing white.”

“Pick something pretty for me.”

“Of course. Also, how long are you going to stand there, smelling tea packets?”

“As long as it takes.”

“Oh!” She snaps her fingers. “We need to go to the Art Institute. Fia's out of town, right? That means we can go today!”

I force a smile. I'd rather know where Fia is than be free to go on outings with Eden. But if it means getting out of this place . . . “I've been studying up on modernism. I think I have a lot to say.”

“I just wish you could see people's faces when you finish waxing eloquent about the force of anger evident in the brushstrokes and then use your cane to walk away.”

“Ah, but if I could
see
their faces, it wouldn't be funny. Stay for tea?”

“Nah, I've gotta go sit in on an interview for a new security guard. His name is Liam. That sounds potentially hot, right?”

“He's forty, pockmarked, and pudgy, and will instantly fill the room with so much lust you won't be able to breathe the whole time you're in there.”

“Pessimist. Wait—did you actually see him?” She hesitates, then sees my grin and slaps me lightly on the arm. “Jerk. I'll come over when I'm done and tell you how blisteringly sexy he turns out to be. Love you. Bye.” The door shuts softly behind her.

I hum, halfheartedly trying to force myself to see a vision of the guy, just on the off chance it'll work. Now that Eden's gone I don't have to worry about hiding my emotions so that she doesn't know how scared I am, but I'd rather think about something else anyway.

I hear the door and almost ask Eden if she forgot something, but no. It's not her.

“Hello, James,” I say, taking the kettle off the stove as its shrill song pierces the air. I don't want him here today. I've woken up every day this week with a stress headache. Now my own personal stress headache is here to visit.

“How do you always know it's me?” The couch springs creak as he sits, and he'll mess up my pillows, as usual. He always puts them back wrong.

“You walk like an elephant.”

“I do not.”

“A cocky elephant. And you smell like a boy. You're filling up my whole room with boy smell, and just when I was about to enjoy my tea, too.” That's not true. He smells like oranges and midnight. He could be a flavor of tea.

He laughs, and in his laugh I understand why he works so well with the rest of the women around here. I'm the only one immune to him; being literally blind to his charms comes in handy. Probably why he doesn't like me. That and he knows I'm more important to Fia than he'll ever be. Which makes him hate me and want her all the more.

“Why are you here?” I reach for my mug and set it on the table, then pull a packet out from the tea jar and bring it to my nose. Hmmm, oolong, sweet and green, with a dollop of honey. Still won't combat the James smell. It'll linger in here all day, making the muscles at the back of my neck tense up. Eden will rub it for me, but not as well as Fia used to. I'll ask James if she can visit when she gets back.

And I'll hate him because Fia can only come if he says so.

“Do you need any help?” he asks. I roll my eyes. I practiced for months when we were younger, Fia coaching me so I could get it just right. She was my mirror back then. Anyway, James isn't here to help me. I won't ask him again why he's come. I'll ignore it until he bursts.

I sit at the table with my hands wrapped around the mug as the tea steeps, calmly pretending that it doesn't bother me that he's here, that I'm not terrified they've figured out I lied to Keane.

“Did you know?” His voice is rough with barely concealed anger.

My stomach flutters with fear. He could be talking about something else. “Did I know what? You forget I'm not a Reader, James. Your thoughts, thankfully, are a complete mystery to me.”

“Did you know Fia would get sent on the hit?”

I let out a breath, lean back heavily into my chair. Oh, Fia, Fia, what have they done with you this time? “I never
know
anything,” I snarl. “How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know. I see. And the seeing with Fia is never, ever accurate, because she's constantly shifting things in her own favor and everything changes around her all the time.”

“So you had no idea she'd get picked for this job.”

They don't know that I lied. Which means I'm safe, but Fia isn't. “Why would you send her? What purpose can it possibly serve? You know how fragile she is!”

One of the chairs smashes to the ground and I flinch. I didn't hear him get up. He can move silently when he wants to, and it frightens me.

“You're the one who said this Adam needed to be taken out.”

“And you sent
Fia
? How could you do that? I never said Fia needed to do it! I watch for threats to your father's best interests, like
you
told me to. Adam was a threat. A huge, massive, all-consuming threat. Don't you think that merits more than a seventeen-year-old girl?” How could they? How could they send Fia? After what it did to her last time . . .”

“My father thought it was the perfect real-world test for Fia. You had to have seen this coming. Can you see how she's going to be when she gets back? Do you have any idea whether or not she's in danger?”

I can feel him leaning in, too close to my bubble. He is heat and energy and anger. This is what I understand about him that the other girls don't. Everything about James underneath his looks is anger. Fia says you can lie with your thoughts and emotions, but only the surface ones. And I never see surface.

“Well, I know she doesn't die.” I narrow my eyes, daring him to challenge me on that. Death was my first vision. My own death was the vision that nearly destroyed Fia before. It's the reason we're here, the reason Fia is Keane's puppet. The reason she isn't safe.

I
will
see a world in which she is safe if it's the last thing I do. “You tell me the second you see something with Fia. If anything happens to her . . .”

I take a sip of my tea, pray he can't see my hand trembling, and raise an eyebrow. “If anything happens to her, I'll never have to see for you again because there will be nothing left in the world I care about.”

“You're not the only one who cares about her.”

“Do your lies really work with the Readers and the Feelers? Because I'm just a lowly Seer, and I know you're not even fooling yourself.”

His phone rings, and the elephant feet are back, stomping to the door. “Screw you, Annabelle.”

“No, but thank you for offering.” I smile darkly as he slams the door behind him. And then I lean my head on the table next to my mug and cry. Why did they send her? What did she do? How can I watch out for her on paths I can't see?