Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

“I don’t know, I’m just … concerned about you.” She sounded puzzled, like she couldn’t explain it. “You were really quiet last time we talked. With your mom and everything … maybe you should spend the holidays with me?”

People should trust their instincts more. You’re right to have a weird feeling, Vi.

“I can’t leave my dad.”

“Bring him. I already talked to my parents. He can sleep in the den and you can have the trundle bed in my room. It’ll be good. Come on.”

“Maybe.”

I couldn’t tell her the truth as I ran toward what might be my doom. Early Saturday morning, I didn’t have to fight commuters, just a few runners, mothers out with children, and people gearing up for Christmas shopping. Dodging around the other pedestrians, I raced toward the station.

“Thanks. I … just want you to know that your friendship means a lot to me.” That was the kind of thing you said as part of a farewell like the one Kian wrote to me.

“You’re starting to freak me out. You sound all grave and … final.”

“I don’t mean to. Look, Vi, I can’t talk now. I have to be somewhere and I’m about to dodge into the subway.”

“Okay. Call me later?”

“Sure.” If I’m alive.

At least Vi would miss me if this rescue mission went wrong. Davina probably would, too. And my dad, God, I couldn’t even think about my dad. With shaking hands, I texted him. It was barely dawn, so he likely wasn’t up yet, but he should find my bullshit about going for an early run reassuring.

I don’t want to leave him alone. I’m supposed to help him. Optimum future, my ass.

Finally, I tapped out a message to Davina, nothing dramatic. Just, thanks for being my friend. Which might scare her, but … I knew the risks of confronting Wedderburn and interrupting the grand gesture Kian had planned. I hoped I got there fast enough to do … something. What, I had no idea; I hadn’t planned that far ahead. My head throbbed with tension and trepidation. Too much shock and grief apparently impaired cognitive function, because I did not feel at the top of my game.

The ride downtown seemed interminable and the tunnels were full of living shadows that slithered after the racing car. Long dark fingers crawled toward me, but I stared up at the lights overhead, letting them shine into my eyes until I saw spots. I won’t let the darkness in. I won’t. I’m not crazy. I didn’t realize I was mumbling this aloud until the old guy nearby moved away by several seats, but I was beyond caring what anyone thought.

The thin man watched me race off the car, across the platform and toward the stairs, but he made no move to stop me. Only the smell of corruption lingered in my nostrils as I blew past. It was too early on a Saturday for businessmen to be out, but there were service workers in uniforms and homeless people layered against the cold. A few of them raised their heads when I raced by, staring at a spot just over my shoulder, until I wanted to scream.

No breath for it. Keep moving.

Iris was at the desk in the lobby, red as blood, terrifying as always. “How good to see you again, Miss Kramer. Do you have an appointment?”

“Wedderburn will want to see me,” I said, hoping it was true.

She didn’t take my word for it, of course; she rang upstairs to check. In some ways, it was reassuring that even supernatural creatures clung to protocol and procedure.

I’m not too late. I’m not.

To my astonishment, Wedderburn must’ve asked her to put him on speaker. His voice snapped from the intercom. “Yes, send her up. There’s something I want her to see.”

If it’s Kian’s body … the careless cruelty of it would unmake me. But then, that was Wedderburn’s specialty. Ice doesn’t care who it harms. My knees quivered and I locked them, holding on to the reception desk for support.

Kian, you ass, I don’t need a hero. I just want you.

Wearing a deep frown, Iris scrawled a code. Like before, she warned, “This will get you to the proper floor and nowhere else. It will only work once.”

The elevator was spooky in silence, no tinny music today, but it moved so fast I heard the rushing air beneath it, as if I had been sucked up into a monstrous maw. I half expected teeth to crunch down and smash me like a bug in a can. At last, the car stopped and I got out. Wedderburn strode down the hall toward me, unusual. I had never seen him out of his office. When I realized Kian wasn’t with him, I choked down a tide of angry questions.

“How delightful of you to come,” he said. “I was starting to worry that you’d overslept and we’d have to start without you.”

Without another word, he led me back to his office and threw open the door. I braced for the sight of Kian in a pool of blood; my brain was ready for it, Dr. Oppenheimer whispering in my ear, The optimist thinks this is the best of all possible worlds. The pessimist fears it is true. But it was the best of all possible worlds. Kian whirled, alive, breathing—breathing and glaring—but alive . His jaw tightened, and his eyes went livid with a ferocious blend of fear and anger.

Wedderburn shut the door behind him with a restrained snick. Displeasure radiated from him like frost snapping from winter-withered leaves. He paced, so that his movements reminded me of the back-and-forth sweep of a blade across a weighted trap. Sooner or later, the axe would fall.

“You’re here to bear witness to his judgment?” he asked. “Brave of you.”

“Not exactly,” I started to say, but Wedderburn wasn’t listening.

“There is no doubt. Kian Riley serves you now, not me. And a tool that cannot be trusted to its purpose is irrevocably broken and must be discarded.”

Shit. I knew exactly what that meant.

I said desperately, “He doesn’t serve me. He cares about me. Surely you can understand the difference.”

“I gave him an order … and he did not follow it. Instead, he told you the whole of my plan and tried to help you escape, using my resources. I have the report here.” With icy irritation, he tapped the page on his desk. “That is … disloyalty. I saved his life, you know.”

Kian didn’t say a single word in his own defense. By the set of his shoulders, he was ready to accept the consequences. Though I didn’t blame him for it, he carried the weight of what the Teflon crew had done to me, the last day before winter break, and he regretted not giving his life for me then. I could hardly breathe for the pain tightening my chest. I had lost too much already.

Wedderburn turned to his desk and pushed a button. A tone sounded, then an inhuman voice said, “What do you require?”

“Send in the clown.”

At first, I thought it was a hideous, macabre joke, another of Wedderburn’s evil games, until the door banged open and a clown stood in the doorway. I narrowed my eyes on the smudged, faded “makeup,” then realized the cracked and flaking skin was imprinted with a huge red mouth with a white oval around it. The thing’s nose was bulbous and tinted red, and it had frizzy orange hair sticking out in all directions. Baggy clothes and giant shoes added to the disturbing picture, but that wasn’t even the worst part. In his hand, he carried a black case, and at Wedderburn’s nod, he opened it, revealing a shining variety of knives in all shapes and sizes: curved, straight, serrated blades, some more like scalpels, others for skinning or boning.

“Which one?” When the clown-thing spoke, it revealed sharp yellow teeth and a long pink tongue that snaked out to wet its mouth as it glanced between Kian and me.