Silver Shadows

CHAPTER 16 Adrian

WHEN A SECOND NIGHT WENT BY with no contact from Sydney, I knew something had definitely gone wrong. I could tell Marcus was worried too, but he did his best to try to put me at ease.

“Look, she said there was some gas in her room that knocked them out, right? Maybe the Alchemists discovered it was off and just fixed it again. She lived that way for three months and wasn’t in trouble—I mean, not in more than the usual trouble of re-education.”

“Maybe,” I allowed. “But even if that’s true, don’t you think they’d wonder how it got broken in the first place? She could be punished by association.”

Marcus’s phone rang before he could respond to me, and I waved him off to answer. He’d been on the phone nearly nonstop since we’d gotten the hit on Death Valley, always coordinating with some agent or another. We’d arrived in the area yesterday, discovering that there was really no place to stay in Death Valley itself, which kind of made sense. Our base of operation had therefore become a motel in a rundown town fifteen miles away from the state park. There were no restaurants, so we got all our food from a convenience store across the street that was run by a kindly woman named Mavis, who constantly worried about me because of my complexion. “You need more sun, darlin’,” she kept saying.

What you need is blood, Aunt Tatiana had remarked at the time. Not from her, of course. We have standards. She’d been right on the first count. It had been a few days since I’d had blood at Court, and although I could go a few more before noticing any major physical discomfort, it was a problem I’d need to eventually remedy.

As Marcus spoke on the phone now, I wandered to the window of our room, which overlooked Main Street and the convenience store, as well as a gas station. By the motel’s standards, it was the best view in the place. To my surprise, a familiar car suddenly pulled up into the motel’s parking lot, its sunny color a bright contrast to this otherwise dreary town. Without saying a word to Marcus, I headed out of our room and down the stairs.

Eddie and Trey were getting out of my Mustang when I stepped outside. Even this early in the day, the heat was rising considerably, creating shimmering mirages on the asphalt. “Survive exams?” I asked.

“For the second time in my life, yes,” said Eddie.

“They’re actually still going on today,” said Trey. “But Ms. T pulled some strings with the other teachers so that we could finish up yesterday. She sent this—for when we get Sydney back.”

I accepted a small tote bag that was filled with all sorts of witchy accoutrements—herbs, amulets, and a book that meant nothing to me but that would probably elate Sydney. When we get Sydney back. Trey had spoken with such confidence, and I hoped it was warranted. These last two nights of silence had been rough on me.

“And I brought this,” said Eddie, with a wry smile. He handed over Hopper, whom I’d left at the apartment, still immortalized in gold. I touched the finely carved scales and then slipped the little dragon into the tote bag with the other magical items. “Any updates on Sydney?”

I beckoned them forward. “Come on up to HQ and out of the heat.”

Marcus was off the phone when we returned to the room, and he greeted the newcomers with friendly nods. “Just confirmed we’ve got three guys—well, one’s a girl—coming to help us tomorrow. Two of them used to be in re-education. They had no idea it was here, of course, but as you can imagine, they’re kind of holding a grudge. They’ve got some intel on what the layout’s like inside, though not nearly as much as I’d like. Meanwhile, we’ve finally got some hard data on the exterior. If you can believe it, they actually mask themselves as a desert research facility. They’re outside the park proper too, probably about twelve miles from where we are now. This is actually the closest town to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if Alchemists stopped here for gas on their way to work.”

It was all good data, but it suddenly seemed lacking when Eddie asked, “Have you heard from Sydney?”

Marcus’s face, which had momentarily seemed upbeat, fell again. “No. We’ve been out of contact for two nights.”

“We don’t need to make contact to raid the place, though, right?” asked Trey. “We can just show up and bust her out.”

“Sure,” Marcus agreed, “but it would be nice to have a contact on the inside as this goes down.”

I slumped down onto one of the room’s narrow beds, which creaked under my weight. “And it would just be nice to know she’s okay.”

“Too bad there’s no one else we can contact,” said Eddie. “You don’t have any leads on other prisoners there?”

Marcus shook his head as he explained what they knew, and the old familiar despair started to settle over me. Plunging into sobriety and using spirit daily was a deadly combination for my mood swings, and I’d been fighting them constantly. Sydney’s latest disappearance had sort of shattered whatever fine control I’d held on to until this point. It’d be a wonder if my sanity lasted until we got her back.

Sanity’s overrated, my darling, I heard Aunt Tatiana say.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Go away, I silently told her. I need to listen to them.

What’s the use? she asked.

I need to focus. I need to get in touch with Sydney to make sure she’s okay and get info about what’s going on inside.

Your human girl has already given you info, the phantom Aunt Tatiana said. You just haven’t heeded it.

I suddenly opened my eyes. “Duncan,” I said out loud. My three friends looked in me in astonishment.

“Are you okay?” asked Eddie, who’d occasionally seen some of my worse sides.

“Duncan,” I repeated. “One of the times I talked to Sydney, she mentioned a friend she’d made there named Duncan, someone who’d been there a while. If we can find out his name, get a picture … it’d be enough for me to form a dream bond. Assuming the gas is out for him too.” I wasn’t clear on the logistics of what Sydney had disabled. “Regardless, it’s not a common name. Could you pull up anything?”

Marcus frowned. “Maybe … depending on how long ‘a while’ is, one of the ex-prisoners joining us tomorrow might even know him.”

“Then call them,” I said sternly. “Now.”

“If Sydney’s not in touch because that gas is back on, you won’t be able to get to him either,” warned Marcus.

I held up my hands in exasperation. “What other choice do we have?”

I could tell he thought it was a long shot, but a few phone calls soon yielded results from one of his guys—the one who was a girl. “She said when she was being held last year, there was a guy named Duncan Mortimer there,” Marcus told us a little while later. He was already on his laptop, typing as he spoke. “No guarantee it’s the same guy, but the odds seem good. Mortimer’s a well-known name. I wonder …”

He didn’t elaborate on what he was wondering and soon found a file on Duncan, including a picture and a few brief stats. Most spirit users wouldn’t have been able to form a dream bond to someone they’d never met, and I again felt that occasional flash of pride at being able to do something worthwhile. When I was satisfied I had all the data I needed on him, we switched gears and spent the rest of the day poring over Marcus’s intel about the facility itself. I didn’t have the tactical mind the others had, but I did have the considerable power of spirit on my side and was able to advise on where I thought that would be useful.

When night—and what I termed “re-education bedtime”—came around, I first tried reaching out to Sydney and again had no luck. That put us at plan B, and I pulled Marcus into the dream. He’d gone to sleep earlier for this very reason. As the mastermind of our break-in, it was essential he speak to Duncan. Marcus materialized by the Getty Villa fountain, examining his arms and hands as though he’d never seen them.

“It never gets old,” he remarked. “You sure you can pull this guy in?”

“One way to find out.”

I’d spent the day memorizing Duncan’s picture and now summoned that image in my mind as I used spirit to reach out to him across the world of dreams, along with what little I knew about him. Duncan Mortimer, age 26, originally from Akron, asleep twelve miles from here. Over and over, I repeated that improvised mantra and concentrated on his face. Nothing happened immediately, and at first, I doubted my own abilities before accepting he might just be blocked as Sydney had been. Then, moments later, a third person materialized with us.

Tall and lanky, his face was a definite match for the picture I’d seen. That, and he was wearing that same horrendous tan outfit Sydney kept appearing in. He looked around with the kind of quizzical expression most people had when I summoned them for the first time, when they didn’t fully grasp that this wasn’t an ordinary dream.

“Huh,” he said. “Been a while since I dreamed.”

“This isn’t a dream,” I said, striding toward him. “At least, not the kind you’re thinking of. I created it out of spirit. Adrian Ivashkov.” I extended my hand to him. “I’m here to talk to you about Sydney Sage.”

Duncan’s expression still looked slightly amused, like this might all be some weird trick of his subconscious, when my words finally sunk in. “Oh, man. You’re him. The cute and brooding vampire boyfriend.”

“She said I was cute and brooding?” I asked. “Never mind. Why can’t I reach her? Where is she?”

“Some place I’ve never known anyone to came back from,” he said darkly. “A place I never knew actually existed until Emma saw it.”

“Who’s Emma?” asked Marcus, joining us.

Duncan looked a little surprised at seeing another person here but then seemed to write it off as part of this odd experience. “Sydney’s roommate. Ex-roommate, since Sydney has new accommodations.”

I was on the verge of a million more questions and then decided to go straight to the source. “Can you picture her? This Emma girl? Like, visualize her in your head and think about all you know about her.”

“Okay …” he said, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows.

If someone I’d brought into a dream could picture someone I’d never met, I could use spirit to reach out and use that visualization as the anchor to bring in the new person. It was no harder than pulling in someone I’d never met, so long as my subject’s mental focus was spot-on. Duncan’s must have been because a few moments later, a slim girl in those same khakis appeared beside him. We quickly caught her up, explaining what kind of dream she was in, which seemed to unnerve her more than it did him. Even liberal Alchemists had problems with vampire magic. But soon, her curiosity won out.

“That’s how Sydney did it,” Emma said. “She was in contact with you through spirit. That’s why she needed the gas shut off.”

“It must be off for all of us, if I’m here,” said Duncan. “I didn’t think she could do it.”

Emma nodded grimly. “That’s where she was the night she was caught. I mean, I don’t think she was there. When I saw her, they didn’t seem to know what she’d been doing.”

“Okay, kids,” I said. “You need to back up right now and fill in a lot more details.”

Between the two of them, they pieced together a story about how Sydney had been making anti-Alchemist ink on the sly and then expanded her operations to shutting down an emergency system that could render the entire place unconscious. I could tell Marcus approved of that strategy, but even he looked aghast when Emma told us what the cost had been of Sydney getting caught.

“It was awful,” Emma said with a shudder, paling. “I don’t know how they did it. It must have been built into the table. I also don’t know how Sydney didn’t just confess when they did it to her. I would’ve spilled everything, but she stayed tight-lipped … at least until she saw them do it to me. She told them she was using magic. It saved me … and got her in worse trouble.”

My heart sank. “Because that’s how she is. You don’t know where she’s at now?”

“Still on that fourth level, I suppose,” said Emma. “Unless they moved her back to solitary.”

Marcus sighed. “Well, at least that answers what those levels are used for.” He looked both of the prisoners over, sizing them up before he delivered his bombshell. “We’re coming to break her out soon. All of you, actually.”

The difference in response was remarkable. Emma lit up. Duncan threw up his hands in disgust and walked away. “Duncan,” she exclaimed. “Come back.”

He stopped and turned. “Why? I don’t want to hear this. It’s futile.”

“You haven’t even heard the plan,” said Marcus, almost sounding hurt.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Duncan. “You can’t get in there. You can’t get us out. Even if you can, what’s next? Where do we go? You don’t think they’ll look for us?”

“I know they will,” returned Marcus evenly. “And I’ll make sure you’re hidden.”

Duncan still looked skeptical, but Emma was clearly on board. “What do you need from us?”

“As much detail about the inside as you can tell us,” said Marcus. “Ideally where the main door lets in. No one who has been there has ever seen the exit.”

“Sydney has,” said Emma. “I overheard. It’s on the floor with the solitary cells, in their control room. She made it sound like there were lots of people in there, though.”

“I’d imagine so,” said Marcus. “If that’s their only way in and out. That place sounds like a fire hazard waiting to happen.”

“It is,” agreed Duncan, almost reluctantly. “That’s why there are so many sprinklers and fire alarms in the place.”

“Has there ever actually been a fire?” I asked. I wanted to participate in the plan but was having a hard time getting over the idea of Sydney locked up and tortured somewhere. “Any reason to evacuate you guys?”

Emma looked to Duncan for an answer. He shook his head. “No. I think there was a fire in the kitchen once, a couple years back, but they acted pretty quickly to nix that. It’d have to be pretty serious to get us all out of there.”

I could see the wheels in Marcus’s head turning. “Any way you could start a fire? Get access to something flammable?” he asked.

“Sydney could light that whole place up if she was free,” I muttered.

“They go out of their way to minimize our exposure to flammable things,” said Emma. Something small shifted in Duncan’s expression, and she noticed it too. “What, do you know something I don’t?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” She marched up to him and pounded on his chest with her fists. “If you know something that can help them, tell us! Stop being a coward. Dare to hope there might be away out of this! If you hadn’t been so afraid of helping Sydney find those gas controls, maybe she wouldn’t have been caught!”

Duncan flinched as though he’d been hit in the face. “There was nothing I could’ve done! They were already on to her.”

“Then make what she did worthwhile,” cried Emma. “Do you really want to live the rest of your life like this? Because I don’t. I want to get out. I don’t care if I’m on the run. It’s better than living in that trapped existence. You should feel the same way.”

“You don’t think I do?” he countered angrily.

She threw up her hands. “Honestly? No. All I see is that you’re too spineless, even for our captors.”

He gave a harsh laugh. “You think that’s why I’m there?”

“You never step out of line. Why else would they keep you there so long?” she demanded.

He didn’t answer, but Marcus did. “Because he’s Gordon and Sheila Mortimer’s son.”

Emma’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

“Who?” I asked, feeling lost.

“I realized it when I pulled up your full name,” continued Marcus. “They’re very powerful Alchemist leaders, Adrian.”

“Ones who can’t risk the rest of the world knowing how their son broke the rules to help some Moroi while he was on assignment,” added Duncan bitterly. He turned to Emma. “That’s why I’ve been held so long—and why they’ll keep holding me. Even if I’m the most well-behaved detainee there, my parents can’t risk the embarrassment of their son’s past coming back to haunt them.”

“Then don’t let them win!” exclaimed Emma. “Fight back. Don’t let them toss you aside like that. Help us with this. For yourself. For Chantal, when you find her.”

The name meant nothing to me, but it hit Duncan hard. “There’s no way to find her,” he said glumly.

“I can find her,” interrupted Marcus. “Whoever she is, I’ve got contacts all around the world—lots of them tied to the Alchemists. It might take a while, but we’ll find her. We found Sydney, didn’t we?”

Duncan still looked uncertain, and Emma clutched his hand. “Please, Duncan. Do this. Take a chance. Start living. Don’t let them take everything away from you.”

Duncan closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths. Despite how anxious I was to save Sydney, I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. Alchemists, even asshole ones like Keith, were generally bright and competent people. Duncan no doubt had been equally capable—and probably still was. It was terrible that people like him could be worn down like this, and I prayed we could get to Sydney before it was too late.

“Yes,” he said at last, opening his eyes. “Yes, I know how to start a fire.”

We spent the rest of the night making plans with them. Marcus and the prisoners got to sleep the entire time, but I was exhausted by the time the dream ended, just before sunrise. My body had been awake all night, and my eyes, when I saw them in the mirror, were bloodshot enough to be Strigoi. Eddie and Trey had slept and were anxious to hear what had transpired overnight.

“Get some sleep,” Marcus told me. “I’ll brief them over coffee and make arrangements with the others. This is happening today.”

I lay on the cheap bed after the three of them left, certain I’d never sleep being so close to freeing Sydney. It was all my mind could think about. My body knew better, however, and it only felt like minutes had passed when I later found Marcus waking me up. “Rise and shine,” he said. “The cavalry’s here.”

I squinted against the afternoon light and nodded my way through introductions with Marcus’s backup, a threesome named Sheila, Grif, and Wayne. They’d all made considerable plans as I slept, letting me rest as long as possible. Marcus got me up to speed with the newcomers, letting me better explain my role to them as I in turn took in the little adjustments that had been made throughout the day. There hadn’t been many, though more details had certainly finalized, and Marcus’s team had done a good deal of recon around the actual site. Once everything was hashed out, we found ourselves on the road, and I had to accept the impossible reality that I was finally going after Sydney.

Between my friends and Marcus’s recruits, we had a veritable caravan. He’d had one of his guys bring a van, with the plan being that it would be used for the bulk of the detainees. After seeing Duncan’s reticence, I’d questioned whether we could even get them to go with us, but Emma had assured us we could. When Sydney had been taken, Emma had found the rest of the salt ink in their room and used it to buy the loyalty of some of the other detainees. “They’ll do what we say,” she’d told me with a smirk. “And they’ll make sure that everyone else does too.”

A mile from the facility, our caravan split in two. Marcus, in my car of all things, and his associates in the van went off to a location they could park at just outside the facility’s perimeter, where they would then approach on foot. Eddie, Trey, and I were going straight into the Alchemists’ front door, with golden lilies on our cheeks that Sheila had painstakingly painted on us to look indistinguishable from the real thing. This part of the plan had been a bit controversial, as Marcus would have been the ideal choice to come in and play at being an Alchemist. His face was so widely known, however, that we couldn’t risk it, and I didn’t have the magical ability to alter both his and my appearance. Maybe if I only needed to look like a Moroi who didn’t resemble Adrian Ivashkov, I could have obscured both of us, but I had to completely change my race. Under no normal conditions would any Moroi come to a re-education building.

We were in Marcus’s Prius (“It’s a totally Alchemist thing to drive,” he’d assured us) and drove straight up the driveway to a checkpoint manned by a guy in a booth. He checked the fake Alchemist IDs Marcus had had made for us and then waved us through. This was all according to plan. Marcus had explained that a gate guard wouldn’t electronically match our IDs to anything in their database. That was going to come when we actually walked in the building.

“You seriously cannot imagine the déjà vu I’m feeling now,” Eddie remarked, once we’d parked in the lot. It had a handful of other sensible, fuel-efficient vehicles. “This is weirdly similar to when Rose, Lissa, and I broke out Victor Dashkov. It’s kind of unsettling.”

“The exception being that he was a hardened criminal who deserved his fate,” I said. “What we’re doing now is on the side of justice, rescuing those in need.”

“Oh, I know,” he said. “I’m just thinking how that escapade wasn’t without its hitches, and we only broke out one person—not a dozen.”

“It almost makes it easier,” said Trey cheerfully. “I mean, it’s all or nothing. You don’t have to rely on the same subtlety you would getting out just one person. We’re breaking this place open.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Eddie said.

The front lobby of the alleged desert research facility certainly looked impressive and scientific. All the architecture was glass and metal, with framed pictures of sandy landscapes that were supposedly key to the place’s function. One glass door led off to the left, to a wing where Marcus’s intel had told us the Alchemists who worked on site lived. A young woman sat at the front desk, with a more sinister and unmarked door behind her that we’d been told should be the one entrance into the re-education lair. She looked up at our entrance, startled.

“My goodness,” she said. “I didn’t even see you walking in on the security cameras.”

“Sorry about that,” I said, oozing spirit-induced charisma. “Hope we didn’t startle you.” One of Marcus’s merry men had been out on the grounds early and found a way to get the exterior cameras to loop on themselves, thus hiding everyone’s approach. This was good for me, since my spirit disguise wouldn’t hold up on camera, and good for Marcus, whose posse wasn’t even attempting subterfuge.

“No, not at all.” The girl smiled at us, showing me my illusion was holding up. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to see Grace Sheridan,” I said, flashing my ID. Eddie and Trey did the same. Getting that Sheridan person’s first name had been another gem gleaned from Duncan.

The receptionist’s eyebrows knit as she took our IDs to scan. “I wasn’t told of any appointment. Let me call her.”

Her murmured phone conversation was about what we’d expected, as was her surprise when she scanned our IDs and her computer told her we didn’t exist.

“Our department’s a bit—how shall I put this—clandestine,” explained Trey. “There’s no record of us because we generally don’t like to advertise what it is we investigate. However, we understand there’s been a resurgence of it here, and that Miss Sheridan’s been at the center of the case.”

The receptionist relayed this enigmatic message through the phone and hung up a few moments later. “She’ll see you. Right through this door, please.”

I stepped through, not sure what to expect. From the stories, barbed wire and chains on the walls wouldn’t have surprised me. The Alchemists were still keeping it “business casual” on the ground floor, however, as the room we entered looked very much in line with the lobby’s style—with one exception.

Six men stood guard in the room, ranged strategically around two doors: an elevator and a stairwell. The men wore suits and had golden lilies on their cheeks and were among the biggest and bulkiest I’d ever seen among the Alchemists. Their HR department must’ve searched pretty extensively to find the beefiest specimens in their gene pool. Most intimidating of all, however, was that each man visibly had a gun—a real gun that could kill, not the sleek little tranquilizing kind that Marcus had covertly armed Trey and Eddie with. Marcus had said the fallout would be big enough without us leaving fatalities behind and also worried about innocents getting injured in the fray. (It went without saying that no one had suggested giving me a weapon.)

I kept a cool smile on my face, like it was totally normal for me to see a bunch of armed guys there to keep a group of bedraggled prisoners from escaping or having free thought. The elevator chimed, and a smartly dressed young woman stepped out. She was pretty in the kind of way that said she’d run a dagger through your heart and still keep smiling the whole time. She maintained that smile as we made introductions.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me off guard here,” she said. She leaned forward a little bit to read my ID tag. “I wasn’t expecting you. I wasn’t even aware there was a Department of Occult and Arcane Transgressions.”

“OAT doesn’t make very many appearances—certainly not many public ones,” I said sternly. “But when a debacle of this magnitude reaches my desk, we have no choice but to intervene.”

“Debacle?” Sheridan asked. “That’s kind of an exaggeration. We have things under control.”

“Are you saying one of your detainees didn’t use illicit magical resources to escape your control and conduct affairs you still don’t fully understand?” I demanded. “I’d hardly call that under control.”

She flushed. Seriously, I deserved an Oscar for this stuff. “How do you know about that?”

“We have eyes and ears you can’t even dream about,” I told her. “Now. Are you going to cooperate with our investigation, or do I need to call both of our superiors?”

Sheridan wavered and then cast a self-conscious glance at the stoic guards. “Let’s talk in here,” she said, gesturing us to what looked like a small office adjacent to the room. We followed, and she shut the door as soon as we were all in. “Look, I don’t know who’s been telling you stories, but we really do have everything well in—”

The shriek of a fire alarm in the corner of the room cut her off. It was followed by a crackling sound, and a voice suddenly came from a small walkie-talkie attached to her belt. “Sheridan? This is Kendall. We have a situation.”

Sheridan lifted out the walkie-talkie. “Yes, I can hear the alarms. Where is it?”

“Multiple locations on level two.”

Sheridan winced at the word “multiple.” “How big are they?” she shouted back. “The sprinklers should be able to contain them.” She glanced up at the ceiling and looked surprised. “Are yours on? They should be set off universally for multiple fires. This whole place should be under water.”

“No, nothing’s come on yet,” the voice replied. “Should we wait? Or do you want us to evacuate?”

Sheridan stared at her walkie-talkie in disbelief and then back at the inactive sprinkler in the ceiling. Duncan had said there were few situations that would actually cause them to evacuate the entire facility, so we’d gone out of our way to create one. Apparently, their art teacher was fighting a smoking habit, and along with a massive gum stash, she kept cigarettes and matches in her desk. Between those and a supply of paint remover, he’d made arrangements with other detainees to start fires simultaneously on their living floor. That was dangerous enough in those conditions, but one of Marcus’s comrades had found exterior control of the facility’s water system and had sabotaged it to delay the sprinklers coming on.

The walkie-talkie crackled again. “Sheridan, do you copy? Do you want us to evacuate?”

It was clear from Sheridan’s face she’d never, ever expected to make a decision like this. After a few seconds, she finally responded. “Yes—you have my authorization. Evacuate.” She gave us a brief glance as she lunged for the door. “Excuse me, we have an emergency.”

In the other room, the guards were on full alert from the screaming of the fire alarms. “We have a Code Orange,” she yelled to them. “Be ready. You two usher the detainees over there for holding. The rest of you, keep your weapons drawn, and watch for—”

The walkie-talkie went off again, this time with a male voice. “Sheridan, are you there?”

She frowned. “Kendall?”

“No, this is Baxter. Something’s wrong. The detainees—they’re taking over—resisting our orders—”

Sheridan blanched. “Have the control center initiate the gas shutdown. Knock everyone out. We’ll get masks and send people down to pull you out and—”

“We already tried! The system seems to be disabled.”

“Disabled?” exclaimed Sheridan. “That’s—”

The door leading from the lobby suddenly burst open, and Marcus and his associates rushed in, wielding those little dart guns. They might not have been as lethal as the real guns, but they were still effective, especially when paired with the element of surprise. Eddie and Trey had theirs out in a flash, and within seconds, the Alchemist guards were down for the count. Only two of them managed to get off shots—shots that went wide—before collapsing from the tranquilizers. Marcus shoved a terrified receptionist into the room and assessed the situation. He ordered Grif and Wayne to pile the unconscious bodies in the office while Sheila stood guard over Sheridan and the receptionist. I let my spirit disguise drop, and both Alchemist women gasped upon realizing they’d been chummy with a Moroi. That shock increased when Sheridan did a double take and realized who Marcus was.

“You!” she spit out.

She didn’t get a chance to elaborate. Moments later, the door to the stairs opened, and that’s when the real chaos started. A mix of khaki-clad detainees came spilling out alongside more formally dressed Alchemist staff. Some of the detainees looked scared and unwilling to be there and were literally being dragged along by their colleagues, reminding me of how Emma had said they’d make sure everyone got out. Marcus quickly initiated a system that was the opposite of what Sheridan had intended in the evacuation: Detainees and Alchemists were split up as they emerged, with the latter—and very shocked—group being put under heavy guard. I watched it all anxiously, my jaw clenched so tightly that it was beginning to hurt. No one I knew was with the initial group coming up, but that was to be expected. When they began to thin out, my nervousness really increased.

This is it, I thought. Any minute now, Sydney’s going to come out with Emma and Duncan.

And then, Emma and Duncan did emerge—without Sydney.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed. “Where is she? You said you’d get her!”

“We tried,” cried Emma. She threw four ID cards on the ground. “None of these would open the doors on the fourth floor. They must not have had access … even though I’ve seen some of them going to that floor in the past.”

I turned on Sheridan in a rage. “Why wouldn’t the fourth-floor doors open?” I yelled. “Who has access?”

Sheridan took a step back from me. “Those are our most dangerous prisoners,” she said, mustering what dignity she could. “The system automatically locks them in for an event like this. Normal card access is disabled. They’re too dangerous to let escape.”

The full implication of her words hit me. “So you just leave them there to die? What kind of sick bastards are you?”

Her eyes were wide with fear, but whether that was because of my outrage or her own conscience, I couldn’t say. “It’s a risk we take—it’s a risk my own people take. Two of them are locked down there as well, one with each prisoner.”

“You guys are even more screwed up than I imagined,” growled Marcus. “Someone’s ID must work. Does yours?” When she nodded reluctantly, he ripped it off her jacket. “The sprinklers should be coming on. Once they do, we’ll go down and get them. It’s unlikely the fire’s spread to that level, but the stairs are going to be—”

“Uh, Marcus,” said Grif uneasily. “The sprinklers should’ve come on by now. I didn’t set the delay for that long.”

Marcus gaped. “What the hell are you saying? Did you permanently sabotage them?”

“Not intentionally! It was just supposed to be long enough to instigate the investigation.”

“Then get out there and take another look!” cried Marcus. “And bring the gate guard back with you.” Grif scurried out.

I’d heard enough. More than enough. Sydney was down there, trapped in a room while a fire raged three floors above her and could be on its way. I strode over to Marcus and took Sheridan’s ID from him before turning back to her. “How many are down there? You said two prisoners and two personnel. Anyone else?”

She did a quick count of the huddled Alchemists. “All m-my people are here,” she stammered.

“We’re all here too,” said Emma. “Plus six we took from the solitary floor. We checked every cell.”

“Fine,” I said. I stormed over to the stairwell door and flung it open. While it wasn’t exactly smoky, there was a faint haze in the air that didn’t bode well for the fire’s progress. “I’m going in for the last four. Anyone coming with me?”

I immediately felt Eddie by my side. “Do you even have to ask?”