The Shadow Prince

chapter forty-six DAPHNE

The next three weeks pass too quickly and yet at the same time feel like they couldn’t go any slower. I find myself avoiding Tobin and Joe as much as possible, and pour myself into studying for finals, as if my life depended on how well I do on those tests. It’s too hard to be around people I have to pretend to be normal with. To pretend like everything is okay. But I don’t talk to Haden, either, even though he always seems to be close by. Like he’s afraid to take his eyes off me.

He probably thinks I am going to run.

If I were smart, I probably would.

My seventeenth birthday passes with little fanfare. Joe offers to throw me a “birthday party to end all birthday parties,” but I can’t muster the energy for such a thing, so instead I opt for eating a bowl of ice cream and a cupcake in front my MacBook while on a Skype call with my mom and Jonathan. I open the packages they sent while they watch. Mom’s gift is a painting of the view of Ellis from the front windows of Paradise Plants that she’d done with oils on Masonite board.

“Hang it over your bed so you’ll dream of home,” she says.

I smile even though Ellis has never been what I want my dreams to be made of.

Jonathan’s gift is a collection of romance novels. “You’re lacking a mysterious man in your life,” he says. “I was hoping we’d get a lot more juicy stories after shipping you off to that fancy-schmancy school. You haven’t dated any celebrities or kissed any princes and neglected to tell us, have you?”

It takes all of my control not to tell them right then and there what is going on with Prince Haden, and our plans to sneak out of town to consult this Oracle lady. But I can’t. Because when I get all this Cypher crap straightened out, and send Haden packing to the underworld on his own, I’m going to go back to my life in Olympus Hills and follow my plan to become a music star. But if my mom gets one whiff of any of this underworld business before I can squash it, any chance of my having a life outside Ellis will be over. She’d probably lock me up in our house until I’m old and gray. And I am not going to let that happen.

“No interesting encounters to report,” I lie through my teeth.

“Well, get on it, girly,” Jonathan says. “Some of us have to live vicariously through you.”

I laugh uneasily, but my mom punches him playfully on the arm. “Don’t encourage her,” she says. “We want Daphne to come back, remember?”

I smile, tears pricking at my eyes, and I wish there was a way to hug them both through the computer.

The night after my last final, I pack my bag as if I am headed for Ellis Fields instead of some undisclosed location with a supernatural boy I barely know. I’m worrying about how I am going to convince Joe when I come down for breakfast that I don’t need a ride to the airport—I’ll pretend to take a cab—and get to Haden’s house instead, but it turns out I don’t have to.

There’s a note in Marta’s handwriting explaining that she and Joe have gone to LA so Joe can lay down some more tracks for a new album. It says not to expect them back before I have to leave, and that a car service will take me to the airport. Even though it makes sneaking away easier, I admit that I am hurt that Joe didn’t bother to see me off. It feels like I’ve barely seen him since the festival, what with all my studying and all the trips into LA he’s been taking to work with his band. Maybe I should have let him throw me that party.

I call the number for the car service on my itinerary and cancel the driver.

With that obstacle down, I make a piece of toast and shove a couple of water bottles into my bag. I don’t know where we are going yet, but Dax had alluded to the fact that the trip might take more than a full day. I’ve got enough packed, but the idea of staying overnight in some strange town with Haden makes me shiver.

My phone rings. It’s Tobin once again. He’s been so busy researching the names of the different Lords who have lived in Olympus Hills—to little avail—that he hasn’t really noticed that I’ve been avoiding him. As much as I want to answer and tell him everything I’ve learned since the night of the festival, I don’t. Number one, because then it would make all of this seem real and not just like a crazy fever dream I’ll wake up from. And number two, because it means I have to tell him what I’ve learned about Abbie, and I’m just not ready to do that yet. I can’t, because then that will be real, too.

I let the call go to voice mail, but he doesn’t give up. While I’m finishing getting ready to leave, he calls two more times, and then sends a text.

Tobin: 911! I must show you something. Call me!

I wonder if he’s found another bit of information that I can’t tell him will lead to another dead end, but I decide to respond or he’s probably not going to stop all day.

Me: Can’t talk now.

Tobin: Then I’m sending it to you.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzes again. He’s texted me a picture. It’s of a list of names.

Me: ?

Tobin: That’s the list of names of girls who’ve gone missing from town. The one in my mom’s files. I went to double-check it last night to make sure I didn’t miss anything … and I saw that a new name has been added. Look at the bottom of the list.…

I enlarge the picture and scan through the typewritten names—and then land on the name Daphne Raines written in crisp, clean handwriting at the bottom.

Tobin: Your name is on a list with a bunch of missing girls! What does that mean?

I know exactly what it means. The mayor—Tobin’s mother—isn’t only aware of the girls going missing in her town; she is complicit beforehand in letting it happen.

But I can’t tell Tobin this right now. I can’t tell him via text—or phone call, even—that his sister is dead and his parent is somehow involved in what happened. I can’t think of a worse betrayal than that.

A new text comes in, but this time it’s not from Tobin.

Haden: Are you ready to go? I can be there in fifteen minutes.

Talking to Tobin will have to wait until I get back. I send him a text.

Me: I really can’t talk about this now. Call you later.

And then I send a text to Haden, telling him I’m on my way over to his place. I know I could wait for him to come pick me up, but I can’t stand the thought. I don’t want to sit around waiting one more minute. I need to be moving. Maybe I’m crazy for going anywhere with an underworld prince who’s full-on admitted that he wants to steal me away. Maybe I’m crazy for thinking I can change his mind. But I have to do everything in my power to try.

Haden is loading a duffel bag into a Tesla Model X in his garage. It’s a strange car, with three rows of seats and doors that raise up like falcon wings instead of opening outward. Haden nods when he sees me, and an expression of relief crosses his face—as if he’d convinced himself I wasn’t really coming.

He takes my suitcase and places it in the trunk next to his.

“Where’s your Model S?” I ask, referring to the car he usually drives. It had kind of become synonymous with him in my mind. His electric black chariot …

“Dax took it out this morning,” he says. I can tell by his tone that things are still strained between the two of them. “I almost stole his Roadster but figured this car would be more comfortable for a longer journey.”

“So Dax isn’t coming with us?” I wasn’t sure if he would, but I had kind of liked the idea of having a buffer in the car.

“He said something like, ‘This is your journey to take, Haden.’ ”

“How very Gandalfy of him.”

Haden raises his eyebrows like he has no idea what I’ve just said. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I look around the garage. “Did he give you the information?”

“Yes.” He hands me a slip of paper.

I open it up. “Seriously?” I laugh, but it sounds more like a groan.

“What?”

“Sarah Smith. Las Vegas, Nevada. That’s all he told you?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Only because there are probably, like, a hundred or more Sarah Smiths in Las Vegas!” When Dax told me he could give me a name and a town, I had pictured something more like Ellis. You can walk into any shop on Main Street and give any shopkeeper the name of any resident and you can get step-by-step directions to their house. “Vegas is huge, and Sarah Smith has to be one of the most generic names in the world. You sure Dax isn’t yanking your chain?”

“He wasn’t yanking anything,” Haden says.

This time I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh. I mean, he was quite earnest when he gave it to me.”

“Okay, sparky. We better get on it, then. I’ll start making phone calls to every S. Smith in the Las Vegas phone directory while you drive.”

“Just one last thing,” Haden says. He opens his duffel bag and riffles around in the contents, then zips it back up without taking anything out.

“What was that for?”

“Just making sure we didn’t have a stowaway. Brim wasn’t too happy when I told her she couldn’t come.”

“That’s too bad.” Even taking a cat along would feel a little less awkward than the two of us on the road together. Alone. To Las Vegas.

“Believe me, sharing close quarters, like a car, with a hellcat is not a good idea. I should know; I’ve had to keep her hidden from Simon in my room for the last three months.”

“Poor baby,” I say, meaning the cat, not him.

“I just hope she doesn’t get out of my room. She might follow us all the way to Vegas.”

“She could do that?”

“She and I are bonded in a way. She can find me anywhere.”

“Who’s Simon?” I ask. “The person you’re hiding her from?”

“My guardian, I guess you could say, and my father’s emissary. As in, the person I’m going to be in deep kopros with if he gets wind of this trip before we get out of here.”

“Let’s get this over with, then,” I say, gathering that kopros is the Underlord slang for stuff that starts with an sh and ends with an it.

I’m in the process of buckling my seat belt, and Haden is pulling out of the garage, when he suddenly slams on the brakes. I look up and see that Haden’s younger cousin—Garrick, I think—is standing in the driveway, blocking our exit.

Haden honks the horn and waves at him to get out of the way. Garrick doesn’t move.

Haden puts the car in park and gets out. “What are you doing, Lesser? Get out of my way.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Garrick says.

“And how do you intend to stop me?”

“I’ll tell Simon. I’ll call him right now. You’re not allowed to leave town. I heard Simon tell you so.”

“Simon doesn’t need to know. He’s gone to LA on business. He won’t even be back until Monday.”

“So what, you’re just going to run away the first chance you get? What about the rest of us? What about me? What happens when Simon finds out you’re gone? What happens when I go back through the gate without you?”

“I’m not running away, Lesser. You think I’m a coward?”

“I don’t believe you. I’m going inside to call Simon! I’m telling him you’re going to this Vegas place.”

Haden grabs his cousin. Garrick tries to pull away. I get out of the car, thinking I can intervene. Talk some sense into Garrick. But I don’t get the chance. Haden places his thumbs behind the boy’s ears and his index fingers on his temples and presses until Garrick’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he crumples like a rag doll. Haden catches him up in his arms before he hits the ground. I cover my mouth, holding in a shriek.

“Open the door,” Haden says, dragging his cousin’s limp body toward the car.

“What did you do?”

“I put him in a black sleep. It’s an old Underlord negotiation technique.”

“Negotiation?”

“If a man refuses to negotiate, you render him unconscious.”

“That’s crazy.”

“He would have told Simon. There was no other way to stop him without resorting to violence. Now open the door.”

I pull open the back door, and Haden shoves Garrick into the backseat. The boy lies motionless on his side.

“Will he be okay?”

“He’ll have a raging headache when he wakes up in a couple of hours, but by then we’ll be halfway there.” Haden slams the door. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and tosses it into a bucket of rags in the garage. “Simon is eventually going to figure out I’m gone, especially if I’m not back by Monday, but I want to make sure he can’t track us. Give me yours.” He gestures for me to give him my phone.

“Mine, too?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“How would he …?”

“Trust me. He has his ways.”

I surrender my phone and watch Haden drop it into the bucket. He gets back in the car. “You coming?”

I sit in the passenger seat again.

As we sail out of the driveway, I glance back at his unconscious cousin in the third row, and I wonder if I’ve made a grave mistake.