I put my arms around him and stuck my face into the bend of his neck. His skin felt scalding. I was a Prime and the Head of a House. I should have maintained composure, but I had nothing left.
He hugged me to him, his arms strong, but his hold careful.
“Catalina, talk to me.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t have the words to explain it. I’d thought he’d died. I almost saw my mom die. I had felt everything, Xavier’s volatile power, driven by pure hatred; Gunderson’s deranged glee; Cornelius’ desperate song that made me want to throw myself on the ground and cry until my eyes ran dry; and, worst of all, Michael’s indescribable darkness that still clung to me.
He kissed me, his lips hot on mine, and pulled me closer. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Sono qui con te, I’m here . . .”
I squeezed myself against him and held on.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, love, it’s okay . . .”
My mouth finally worked. “I thought you were dead. I thought Gunderson and Xavier killed you.”
“Not in a million years. I won’t leave you. I’ll never leave you.”
The fear clawed me.
“It’s okay. I’m here . . .”
“We need to go home. We all need to go home.”
“We will, angelo mio.”
My mind finally started, like a rusted water mill forced to turn by the current. “Konstantin set us up.”
“I know.”
“There is a mess in front of the Office of Records.”
“Leon is handling it.”
“Mom’s security detail . . .”
“We found them. They are alive and being treated.”
He kissed me again and cradled me in his arms until Cornelius returned and the nurses wheeled my mother out in a chair.
Chapter 8
Alessandro had brought the Vault Bus.
From the outside, the massive vehicle resembled a heavily armored truck, but inside, instead of cargo space, the bus featured two rows of seats along the walls, each with an individual harness. It could seat twenty-five, if you counted the four seats in the cab. It also weighed upward of forty thousand pounds, about the same as a fully loaded sixty-foot bus. Even Connor would need an amplification circle to lift it off the road.
As soon as Mom was done, Alessandro and our guards loaded us into the Bus, and we were off.
I rode with Alessandro in the cab while one of our guards drove.
The night outside of our windows was so dark. Deep and stifling despite the streetlights and the glow of storefronts and windows.
Alessandro took my hand. I held on to him. We rode in silence for a long time.
“Talk to me,” he said finally.
“It’s my fault.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“I should have told you about Konstantin as soon as it happened.” He would have known instantly whose skin Konstantin was wearing and would have anticipated the shitstorm that would follow. “Failing that, I should have identified his disguise. I’m supposed to be smarter than this.”
“You were in the middle of an interrogation with an unstable mental mage. I, on the other hand, abandoned you and left to run a political errand. Had I stayed, the outcome of tonight would’ve been much different.”
“What happened with that?”
He shook his head. “We went to the school. Gunderson had mysteriously disappeared, then reappeared by a post office. We went there. He was gone again. Then came a sighting half a mile away. Again, we were too late. I checked the surveillance footage at the post office. The camera should have caught him according to eyewitnesses, but it didn’t. I realized I’ve been chasing an illusion mage, and not a very powerful one at that.”
A Prime would have shown up on the security footage as the person he was mimicking, but a lower-level mage didn’t have enough juice.
“I tried to call you and got voice mail. Then I tried the Compound, and the call wouldn’t go through. I borrowed Matt’s phone and called the Compound again. No answer. I called Linus’ house, then Bern . . .” He shrugged. “Finally, the light dawned. I shut off the phone and went home. I was pulling into the driveway when you called from the ER.”
“Arkan got to Gunderson?” I guessed.
“Most likely. Nothing in our background on either Gunderson or Arkan shows a link between the two. Arkan saw an opportunity, and Xavier must’ve taken it for him. The way Gunderson got out of the lockup suggests a telekinetic interfered.”
“Did Bern restore the phones?”
“Partially. He got the Compound landline working. He was still working on the system when I left. Leon got home about the same time I did. The FBI agents were hit on their way from Cabera’s house to their office.”
Damn it. “Is he hurt?”
“He says he isn’t.”
Knowing Leon, that meant nothing. His arm could be cut off and he would tell you he was “fine.”
“Are Wahl and Garcia okay?”
“They are alive, but according to Leon, ‘not happy.’”
Ugh. “Why go after the FBI?”
Alessandro gave me a dark look. “He’s trying to cut off access to Smirnov.”
“He isn’t sure if the FBI knows anything, so he tried to kill them just in case?”
“That would be my guess.”
“They’re federal agents. He doesn’t strike me as a stupid man.”
“Smirnov must know something. Something so big that Arkan is desperate to keep it quiet.”
I looked at him. “What could it be?”
“It concerns Konstantin. I’m following a trail of bread crumbs.” He faced me. “Catalina, I promise you I will find out.”
“I know.”
I leaned back in my seat. We’d gotten hit on every front. The buck stopped with me.
“Blaming yourself is the easiest thing,” Alessandro said. “Coming up with a plan is much harder.”
I knew he wasn’t telepathic, but sometimes I had my doubts.
“I got complacent.”
“We. We got complacent. Do you understand how cybersecurity works? Could you write code to deal with a network security breach?”
“No.”
“That’s Bern’s job. A job he is very good at. I had an even simpler job, one job, to protect the Acting Warden. I left that job because I judged that doing a favor for Lenora Jordan was in our House’s best interest. You can’t micromanage everyone. You must delegate. You have done that. All of us knew what we had to do. We got outclassed.”
“Not for long.” I gritted my teeth. Magic stirred inside me. Normally it was like a clear geyser bubbling up to the surface any time I lifted the lid. This time it felt different. Vengeful. Vicious.
He leaned over, brushed a tear off my cheek, took my hand, and kissed it.
“I’m not sad,” I told him.
“I know. You’re crying because you’re angry.”
I leaned against him. “Are you angry?”
Orange sparks flared in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me to him. His magic wound around us, violent and charged with power. It didn’t feel like anger. It felt like wrath.
“Very,” he said.
I laid my head on his shoulder. “Good. Let’s be angry together.”
The hill around the Compound was pitted with large holes, as if someone had tossed a handful of grenades about. A crushed metal wreck that might have once been a vehicle smoked slightly on one side of the road. On the other side, three other wrecks, crumpled and smashed like discarded Coke cans, formed a modern art installation dedicated to House warfare—one on its side, one upside down, and a third torn in half.
Arabella must’ve been furious. There was plenty of that to go around lately.