Page 13 of Fortress of Ambrose (House of Marionne #3)

Ten

Jordan

The L train whooshes by underground. Knox urges me to push her faster, but I can’t stop glancing over my shoulder. Being out here like this, exposed, with the world’s magic inside me, isn’t my idea of being discreet.

“Hurry, we’ll miss it,” she says.

But we aren’t proceeding toward the platform where the next train will halt.

We hurry beneath the glowing signs for the blue line.

Quell hasn’t said much since leaving Headquarters.

Since I told her about Maei’s body, her expression hasn’t changed from a pinched glower.

Would Nore know what this means? We cross the platform, and the train we want comes to a screeching halt.

I turn to Knox. “Where exactly—”

Quell’s scent assaults me when she presses in beside me as the car fills.

I forget what I was going to say. Her warm brown gaze is riddled with worry, still unsettled by what we saw at Headquarters.

I adjust where I’m standing to put plenty of distance between us.

Her lashes dip with disappointment before she looks away.

I’m sorry, I want to say. Knox points at a sign for O’Hare airport as the doors close.

When we reach the last stop, we get off in a flood of passengers rushing to catch their flights.

A person lingers a bit too long on my periphery.

As Knox leads us down the platform, toward the airport’s check-in, the figure follows.

I usher us along faster but catch a glimpse of his face; stringy, long dark hair; and a gangly frame.

That face. His dark glasses and bulky coat make the rest of him hard to see.

We cut a sharp left toward the bathrooms before security, and I look back. But he’s gone. He looked like…

“What is Abby doing? Is she still dating that sorry excuse for a Dragun, whatever his name is?” I ask.

“Mynick,” Quell says. “And no. She’s still at the Tavern, waiting for me to write. We loitered long enough to convince the owners to let her do the costume design for one of their shows. She’s living her wildest Vestiser dream, healing career and her parents be damned.”

“Good for her.” At least someone is squeezing happiness out of this sour world.

Inside the women’s restroom, we get a few weird glances. But when it empties, I lock us inside.

“The last stall.” Knox pulls off her necklace and holds it tight in her fist. “I’ll hold the stone. When I grab the stall door, everyone needs a hand on me. When we step inside, we’ll arrive at our destination.”

“Wait.” I stop her, eyeing the blue stone pendant in her hand. Transport powder is how Marked travel if they’re privileged enough to have access to a supply. Draguns use toushana to travel by cloak. But this? “I’ve never seen magic like this before.”

“You have.”

I lean closer and see granules glow beneath its glassy surface. Sun Dust. “A cloak veil?”

“Astute. Cloaking magic has been tethered to the bathroom stall door with tracer magic. When the veil or key touches where the cloak has been placed, the stall door summons toushana. You step through and it works like any cloak would, taking you where you need to go.”

“Cloaking magic is proprietary information.”

“You still think the world is that black-and-white, Mr. Wexton?”

I don’t know how the world works anymore. This cloak veil is one more piece of a re-forming puzzle I’ve never seen before.

“You knew this?” I ask Quell.

“Your brother and I traveled by regular cloak.”

“This is—” I stare at the pendant in disbelief. It wasn’t taken from Knox when she was captured because it looks like some kind of jewelry. But it’s a magic more sophisticated than I’ve ever seen, and it was right under the Order’s nose. “Brilliant.”

“A network of thousands of safe houses has existed for generations,” Knox goes on. “We’re in hiding, not inept. Every major airport in the world has a cloak veil. We are well coordinated, well funded, and invisible, Mr. Wexton.” She gestures at the bathroom. “Shall we?”

We enter the bathroom stall, my pulse rattling.

“To,” Knox says, “Monsieur Audubon.”

The grand estate where the financier lives is ornate and sprawling, like a petite Order House in a gated community.

The travel cloak sets us in a wedge of shrubbery beside the pool.

As we pull ourselves out of it and find the gravel path, my irritation bristles.

The last time I saw this man, he got away from me as I tried to corner him handing off money to Knox for a new safe house.

He is an untouchable Unmarked, well connected. He isn’t in the Order, but he knows enough to be dangerous. The Dragunhead issued execution orders on him multiple times, but they were always quickly recalled.

“The deal you blew up last fall was going to secure us a new safe house because our location became compromised.” Knox looks at Quell, who shuffles on her feet. “But since I was captured, I have no idea where my partner relocated us. Audubon will.”

“I don’t like this,” I whisper to Quell as we follow Knox up the gardening path.

“Knox knows what she’s doing.”

“It’s not her I’m worried about. Audubon is an opportunist. He’s made a living on disloyalty. I usually try to kill this man when I see him. And we’re going to walk in here and trust him?”

“You’re walking in on Knox’s credibility. Start acting like you see in you what she sees in you.”

I follow at a reluctant pace up a stone ramp and to the grand doors. A melodious bell brings the butler to the door. He greets us stoically and shows us to the library. When half an hour has passed and only refreshments have arrived, I stand and pace.

“Jordan, what do you fear?” It’s Knox. My stomach twists at the intensity in her stare.

So many things. “Losing everything.” I lace my hands together, resisting the urge to look at Quell. “Because I trusted the wrong people.”

“I won’t lie to you,” she goes on. “Part of the reason I am helping you is because I trust Quell. I also have seen your heart, and there is good in there somewhere. But there is a war inside you, and the final battle hasn’t yet been decided.”

Her words skid up my spine like ice. I rub my hands so hard together my skin is red when the sound of footsteps clacking on the polished floors turns me in my chair.

“Knox.” Audubon greets her with a kiss a bit too close to her mouth.

And for the first time, she smiles. He’s a man of small stature with warm brown skin, a thick head of white hair, and a mouth that’s crooked.

He snaps for his butler. “Bring them some brunch bites.” He studies Quell from head to toe with a lecherous expression.

The cold inside me leaps, and I force my feet to stay in place.

We need this man’s help. I should not rip his eyes from their sockets.

“The very last person I thought I’d see here.” Audubon traces his jaw, giving me a curt nod. He extends a platter of hand-rolled cigars. “But these are grave times, full of surprises.”

I don’t take the peckle. Knox does, and so does Quell, to be polite I imagine. I try to at least say, Good to see you again, but the words won’t come. I force a tight smile that feels more like a grimace.

“You look well, considering the rumors,” he says to me.

“Never felt better.” I cross my arms, watching his movements.

“Are they true? Do you possess the Sphere’s magic?”

“You don’t ask questions you don’t already know the answer to.”

His crooked mouth twists into a smile.

“I’m glad to see you’re alright,” he says, turning to Knox with steepled hands. “Let’s get into it. What’s on the table today?”

“Nothing, officially,” she says. “I need to know where Willam is.”

He smooths his pants, and Quell’s foot begins tapping. “The network of safe houses is evolving, finding common interests in surprising places.”

Audubon doesn’t even look my way. “Should we speak privately?” he asks Knox, but I’m tired of wasting time. I know how to bait an opportunist.

“Safe houses don’t need to be in the shadows if the Order is falling apart, I get it. New alliances are being formed. But we see an opportunity for you, as the money cleaner, if you help us.”

Audubon sets down his cigar. “I am really beginning to understand the appeal of this guy.” He crosses his legs. “But not all causes are profitable, even if they pay well.”

“Cowards hide behind riddles.”

“You are highly sought after, Mr. Wexton. So sure, I could help you all and magic and everyone. Or I could help me.”

Knox’s stare widens in shock. “Lennox, please. Willam’s location. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Life is a game of Russian roulette, Knoxy, you know this. I make my bets with the best information I have. And this one has so many bidders.”

“Don’t do this. After all we’ve been through, we’re as good as family.”

He shrugs. “Times are changing.”

She frowns. Ice pricks my chest, the Sphere’s magic rising up in me, burning a degree colder every second I stare at Audubon. Quell’s foot taps faster beside me, and I can feel the fear rippling in her chest.

“New clients are emerging,” Audubon says.

“And they all have one thing in common—they want this guy.” He taps my knee, and I consider how good it would feel to snap his finger in half.

Black seeps out of my pores, spreading across the floor in a fine mist. Audubon’s poker face is unreadable.

Quell grabs my arm, and her touch stills me like an anchor.

When she realizes what she’s done, she snatches her hand away.

“Everyone out,” she says. “I want to speak with Audubon privately.”