Silver Shadows

  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.”