Assassin's Maze Page 3

  Lutz Logan promised to bring Briar’s body to me. Every second brings me closer to the moment when he will lay her at my feet. My teeth clench and my heart rate finally slows, anger making me colder than the air around me.

  Slade is a steady presence at my side, his blue eyes steely gray in the early morning light. He is silent and focused, wearing ink-black clothing, his features set in the hard lines of a Master Assassin. He ordered the other assassins to stay inside this morning until Briar is returned to me. Her death is not a show for others to watch. Then we will bury her with proper respect.

  Movement at the front of the street makes my heart skip a beat, but it’s Vlad, Tansy, my father, and the Guardian, all four moving quietly, their breath frosting in the chill air. Their coats slap their legs as they walk, the only sound breaking the heavy silence.

  They don’t speak as they join us, although Vlad lays a big hand on my shoulder, his gray eyes meeting mine for a moment. He told me that he has to leave today. The way Tansy fixates on the pebbled street tells me she hasn’t figured out how to say goodbye to him. She swore there was nothing going on between them but it is clear she doesn’t want him to leave. Not when her emotions are still raw after losing William.

  Ridley is the last to reach us, stopping directly in front of me. He undertakes a quick assessment of my stitches before he moves to stand on the other side of me. He knows I won’t break down no matter what happens this morning, but the brief touch of his hand on my shoulder tells me that he is here for me.

  I clench and unclench my fists, focusing on the deep pit of anger inside me, my determination that nobody else will die because of Amalia.

  I stop breathing when Lutz Logan’s blurred silhouette races around the distant corner. I brace for what I don’t want to see, forcing myself to remain frozen, unfeeling, and clinical.

  He will hand her to me. I will take her body and bury her…

  Except… Lutz runs toward us, arms pumping.

  Empty arms.

  I don’t know what this means. Did he leave her body behind?

  He materializes from his blur halfway down the street. His protective suit gapes open on one side, flashes of crimson blood visible between the flaps.

  He rips off his facemask after he skids to a halt, dropping his backpack to the ground and sucking air into his lungs.

  Technically, only Slade can demand answers from him, but this is my territory and there’s no way I’m waiting for an explanation. To my shock, I don’t ask what happened or where Briar is.

  Instead, I exclaim, “Lutz! Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  Damn. I used to hate this guy. I’m not supposed to care.

  His gaze jolts to mine, as surprised as I am. He recovers quickly, his expression softening a little. He takes a moment to pull wide the rips in his suit to check his wound, frowning at the cut. “I’m okay—it’s only superficial. He left me alive when he could have killed me.”

  Lutz shakes his head, the hard lines returning to his expression. “He should not have let me walk away.”

  I ask, “Who? Lutz, what happened?”

  “I failed. Briar is alive.”

  My heart leaps. She’s alive!

  But the deep concern in Lutz’s eyes halts my elation. His normally arrogant expression is missing, replaced with a tense frown and a clenched jaw.

  Slade quickly steps into the conversation, his deep voice resonating through me when he asks, “How, Lutz? Briar has skills but you are the most efficient assassin in my Legion. You have never failed.”

  There was a time when Lutz would have made the most of any compliment thrown his way, but he has changed since we joined the Legion. He barely acknowledges what Slade said, focusing only on his question. “She was rescued by a bystander. The fifth rule was broken.”

  The fifth rule of the assassin’s code states that a bystander who prevents an assassination forfeits their own life.

  Slade considers the damage to Lutz’s suit and the blossoming bruises on his face and parts of his body that are visible through the rips. “A bystander did that to you?”

  “Not just any bystander.” Lutz takes a deep breath. “It was Archer Ryan.”

  My heart skips a beat. Archer Ryan is the son of Patrick Ryan, the mobster whom my mother protected from the time I was a baby until the day she died. It was because of Mom that Patrick rose to the top of the underground—a position that Amalia now holds.

  The others shuffle behind me. The Guardian’s eyebrows rise in surprise, Vlad exchanges a look with Ridley who wears a deep frown, and Tansy casts me a worried glance. She knows all about my mother’s history. Archer Ryan is a part of Mom’s past that I never understood—how Mom could protect such violent gangsters is beyond me.

  Slade is also wary. “I thought Archer Ryan was dead.”

  I shake my head. “Gone. Not dead. There was always a chance he would come back.”

  A torrent of questions crowds my mind. Why now? Why save Briar? What is Archer’s motive?

  The tension increases around Lutz’s amber eyes. “A ghost didn’t do this to me. He fought like a devil, as strong as a magical creature but he has no aura. He’s human.”

  “With all due respect, I’m not surprised,” I say. “Archer was trained by the most brutal mobster in the history of Boston’s underground. There were whispers that Patrick would routinely beat Archer to destroy his humanity. Archer Ryan was trained to kill anything with a heartbeat and… apparently… feel no remorse about it.”

  “Then why save Briar?” Lutz says. “Why leave me alive?”

  He seems almost disgruntled about it, as if it’s an insult to him that Archer went easy on him.

  I ask, “Did he say anything to you?”

  “He told me to get off his turf.”

  Slade nods beside me. “Then he wants Lutz to be his messenger. Archer is back to claim his territory.” A sudden humorless grin breaks across Slade’s face. “Amalia won’t like that. Archer is a threat to her rule over the underground.”

  I answer the question in Slade’s eyes, saying, “Archer could be an ally. A dangerous one, but having him on our side could make a big difference…” I heave a frustrated sigh. “Except that he broke the fifth rule. The consequence is death.”

  Lutz says, “There’s more.”

  He looks to the Guardian as he speaks, making me turn to allow her into our conversation.

  She contemplates Lutz in her quiet and considered way. I’ve only seen her flustered a handful of times and each time she regained her heart of steel within moments. “Something has made you uneasy, Lutz Logan. What is it?”

  Lutz presses his lips together for a moment. “Rowan tracked Archer from the alleyway where we fought. I didn’t want to re-engage Archer but I also didn’t want to lose him. Rowan called just now to give me an update. Apparently, Archer was last seen with Cain Carter.”

  Surprise flashes across the Guardian’s face. “What was the nature of their interaction?”

  “It was unclear. Archer stumbled on the sidewalk and Cain grabbed him before he fell over. I’m not sure why he stumbled… I didn’t hurt him—I barely made contact during our fight. It’s entirely possible that they bumped into each other…”

  “But?” the Guardian asks.

  “Rowan got the impression that they know each other. Cain seemed strangely…” Lutz shuffles again, his expression crinkling with discomfort. “He seemed protective of Archer. He made sure that Rowan backed off.”

  I shake my head. “That is not possible. Cain wouldn’t mix with the likes of Archer Ryan.”

  Lutz raises an eyebrow at me. “Cain didn’t want Briar to die any more than I wanted to kill her.”

  The Guardian interjects before I can respond. Her question is sharp. “Are you suggesting that Cain asked Archer to intervene in Briar’s assassination?”

  Lutz shrugs. “Nothing is certain right now.”

  I snarl, “You’re damn right it’s not. Cain wouldn’t dishonor the Code like th
at.”

  I swallow my anger. Even I hadn’t considered stopping Lutz, despite the fact that Briar is a dear friend to me. But Cain… he knows how much I’ve lost. The hug he gave me last night nearly sent me into a spiral of tears and grief. He has more compassion than any assassin I’ve ever met—despite being capable of terrible violence.

  Would he break the Code to save me from the pain of losing another friend?

  No… Cain can’t have had anything to do with it. “Cain is far too smart to be seen with Archer in public. If he orchestrated the interference, we wouldn’t know about it.”

  Lutz gives me a rare smile and a conciliatory nod. “You’re right. In fact, Archer started the fight by throwing a cup of coffee at me. If he knew he was coming to a fight, he would have brought his own weapons.” His shoulders rise and fall in a slow, reflective shrug. “For the life of me… I got the impression Archer was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Slade speaks up beside me: “Either way, Archer has proven himself to be a danger to us. He can’t become an ally because he has broken the Code. Guardian, I’m bound by the rules. May I have a ruling, please?”

  The Guardian’s brown eyes flash. “Archer Ryan has broken the fifth rule. He has forfeited his own life. The Legion is sanctioned to carry out his assassination.”

  “Very well.” Slade spins back to Lutz, but he chooses his words carefully. “Normally, this is something I would take care of myself but there are other things I need to do.”

  His gaze flashes to me for a moment before he continues, “Lutz, get cleaned up and take care of your wounds. I want you to track Archer, find out everything you can about him, and report back to me. I will end him once we have a full picture of his skills and motives.”

  Lutz appears disquieted. “Me? I lost a fight to Archer. I don’t think I’m the best candidate—”

  “You are my best assassin. Archer may have beaten you once but he won’t succeed again.” Slade’s order is firm. “You will take care of it.”

  Lutz’s expression turns blank. I consider the brutal assassin with some disquiet. Twice now, Slade has complimented Lutz and he hasn’t reacted with any hint of his former arrogance. He didn’t want to assassinate Briar. In fact, he was full of self-loathing that was only overpowered by his unbending duty to the Code. In that regard, he and Slade are identical. Neither of them will break the Code no matter what it costs them. Slade may wear pain as a mask. But Lutz… he wears pain as a shield.

  He says, “Yes, Master.” Then his expression changes, defiant for the first time. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t sorry to let Briar go.”

  Without another word, he turns on his heel and strides away along the street.

  With that, our group disperses. The Guardian places a gentle hand on my arm before she follows Lutz. “I’m glad Briar is okay.”

  I give her a formal nod despite the sudden overwhelming relief that floods me.

  Briar is safe. A failed assassination can’t be attempted again. She is truly safe.

  Vlad presses a big hand to my shoulder with a broad grin before he turns to Tansy, clears his throat, and politely asks her if she will join him at the Diner for breakfast. It will be one of their last meals together and Tansy is quick to agree. She blinks rapidly as she passes me, hiding her tears.

  It shocks me to realize that her tears are for me, not herself, when she touches my arm and says, “I’m glad you didn’t have to say goodbye to Briar today. You don’t deserve to lose anyone else. I’ll come by later to heal your cheek.”

  She hurries away before I can respond. Her offer to heal me is unexpected. She knows I’m too proud to ask. The look in her eyes and the way she quickly assessed my stitches told me she will see me soon—whether I ask her or not.

  Ridley is stern as he says, “You take her up on that offer, you hear me? I’m heading out to the Realm now. I’ll be back to check on you.”

  I snag his arm. “Dad, it’s not safe in the Realm.”

  Amalia proved she can breach Realms—a consequence of her power being used to create them. “Amalia could attack again at any time.”

  He gives me a quick hug. “That isn’t going to stop me.”

  He strides away before I can argue, leaving me alone with Slade who asks, “Do you want to find Briar before we head out on our mission?”

  I desperately do. I want to see her and hug that bony old woman until she doesn’t have breath left in her body. But every minute we delay there is a higher chance that Amalia will relocate her supplies from the warehouse we’ve identified. On top of that, Briar is fiercely independent, a woman who flits between shadows. She could have come back to the Lane already, but she hasn’t.

  I shake my head. “Briar is more resilient than anyone I’ve ever met. If she hasn’t shown up yet, it’s for a reason. I won’t find her if she doesn’t want to be found.”

  Slade squares his shoulders, his jaw setting in a determined line. “Then we have a warehouse to destroy.”

  Chapter Five

  We fly in hot and fast, soaring toward Amalia’s warehouse located in Boston’s south—a deserted stretch of broken buildings and graffiti-mottled alleyways. We are both dressed in protective suits, multiple tranquilizer guns strapped to our chests. Slade carries the missile launcher in a harness on his back, his strength ensuring that its weight barely makes an impact on him. Since we need to maintain visual contact at all times, we can only partially blur. The bright sunlight doesn’t do us any favors, especially as it reflects off our wings.

  We aren’t under any illusions that we will be able to sneak in undetected.

  Right now, speed is our friend.

  Slade gives me a wolfish grin as the first chatter of machine gun fire tells us we’ve been spotted. “Meet me when you’ve taken them down.”

  My heart rate speeds up as he breaks off to the right, aiming for the shooters on the roof. I tilt left, pull out my tranquilizer gun, and zigzag through the air toward the shooters on the ground as a hail of bullets follows my descent.

  I dive at the three men positioned at the door, fully blurring for a moment to disorient them before I take aim and fire three quick darts. I zigzag long enough for them to fall to the ground unconscious. The first man’s finger remains pressed against the trigger as he drops, spraying bullets at his comrades. Zooming in from the side, I grab the weapon just in time, aiming it high to avoid collateral damage.

  Bending the barrels, I partially materialize again and fly around the corner. My fist sends the man running toward me crashing into the side of the building. I shoot a dart into his chest as I race past, quickly blurring and firing into the oncoming group. Five darts later, my gun is empty. I holster the empty weapon and pull the next, but the delay gives the final man time to leap over his tranquilized comrades, take a knee, and shoot wildly into the space where he last saw one of his comrades fall. The bullets spray in a wild arc toward me.

  I release my wings just in time, lifting myself above the danger. Ordinary bullets can’t pierce my protective suit, but I don’t want to take any chances he will get in a lucky shot across my eyes, which remain exposed.

  I rise above him as he sprays bullets from side to side.

  Taking aim, I pull the trigger and he kisses the ground.

  Running around the perimeter of the building, I ascertain that I’ve taken care of the guards on the ground. I’ll come back to drag them away from the explosion—and there are more shooters to contend with inside the building—but for now I soar upward, heading toward the roof, seeking Slade’s location.

  He spins in and out of invisibility across the rusty panels, appearing in one place and then the next, crashing through the guards before they have the chance to fire back. They at least have the sense not to fire at each other.

  He is less agile with the weight of the missile launcher on his back, but he uses flight to give him greater impact as he slams his fist down on the last man. A tranquilizer dart meets his target’s neck and the guy fal
ls in a heap.

  “Getting inside the building will be harder,” I say, swapping out my empty guns for two fresh ones, testing their weight in my hands. “We’ll need to shoot fast.”

  “Watch out for the upper right hand side window. There’s a loft inside this building from which they can shoot. Last time, the guards inside used armor-piercing bullets.” He shrugs and taps his shoulder. “I found out the hard way.”

  I shiver. That was the life-threatening wound I had to heal with my feather. Armor-piercing bullets are bad news. “Let’s aim for that window first then.”

  We back up to the edge of the roof, facing inward, spread our wings, and drop, taking aim as we freefall. A bullet whips past my ribs, nearly hitting my wings before I tilt in the other direction, locating the shooter and firing a tranquilizer into his shoulder. He recoils and drops, but two more men take his place.

  Slade takes a more direct approach, tucking his wings and spearing through the window, guns outstretched. Glass sprays in all directions and the men don’t stand a chance.

  I follow him into a pit of hell filled with an upward rain of bullets.

  “We have to blur!” Slade ducks and rolls across the loft, shouting, “Go right. Don’t come left without showing yourself. I can’t guarantee that I’ll sense you.”

  He disappears from sight and I follow his lead, blurring myself completely when I drop from the loft, kicking the nearest man and tranquilizing him before I land, one-knee bent, on the grimy floor. The warehouse is filled with wooden crates. A large metal vault stands at the other end of it.

  Before I can stand, a bullet bites my shoulder and passes straight through me. It was a lucky shot for the shooter while I’m invisible but very unlucky for me. Pain explodes across my torso, the impact knocking me off balance.

  I can’t afford that. One bullet wound will take days to heal.

  The pain makes me angry. My power surges to the surface, but as much as I’d love to fly around these assholes spreading death at a single touch, I can’t kill any of them. This mission is off the books, unsanctioned.