Shifting Fate (10 page)

She had known. All along, she’d done
everything she could to stop the fate her visions warned her
of.

Emily reached over to take the photo from my
hand, and once it was empty, I had the instinct to pinch the skin
at the base of my thumb and forefinger. It was a trick I’d learned
from our mother, one of those secrets to keep your emotions in
check, but I wasn’t going to cry.

I drew in a solid breath, the idea that I
didn’t need to fight tears relaxing me even more, and Emily said,
“She saw all of this, didn’t she?”

I reached automatically for her, to comfort
the grief that was somehow absent from me, and she stopped me with
a look. “You don’t have to do that, Brianna.”

I hesitated, still contemplating the lack of
sorrow. The hours after finding our mother’s lock of hair had been
painful, full of regrets and what-ifs, but the overwhelming
heartache at her loss seemed farther away. I didn’t know what that
meant, and stab of guilt that maybe I’d accepted it, that I’d
gotten over the death of someone who’d meant so much, struck
me.

Emily watched me, so I finally asked, “Do
what?”

She sighed. “That thing you do. Where you
take it away. You don’t have to, Brianna. I can handle it.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but she turned
from me, tucking the photograph between the pages of a nineteenth
century collection of ancient Egyptian symbols. She was finding her
own place to keep it safe.

We walked from the office into the library,
but the difference was no longer blinding. The sun was setting and
the room took on a soft glow, the urge to curl up on the sofas only
tempered by the figures against the farthest of the three large
windows. Aern moved first, hand sliding free of his pocket as if in
anticipation of Emily. I watched the gesture, maybe too long, as we
crossed the room, and my gaze moved to Logan where he stood by the
glass, eyes on me.

The last rays of sun struck
his face, giving them that otherworldly glow the seven lines
sometimes had, and I couldn’t look away. When he didn’t either, my
thoughts replayed the moment on the stairs, the words that kept
returning.
Is it now
? I glanced down, shifting the documents in my hand as my
cheeks heated.

“
Find anything?” Aern asked.
I looked up, but he’d been questioning Emily.

She shrugged. “Nothing to speak of.” Her tone
didn’t betray the lie, but in truth neither of us wanted to speak
of the lock of hair or anything else we’d seen. She gestured
vaguely toward the journals and folders now situated firmly under
my arm. “Brianna’s got a couple of things she’s going to take a
better look at later, but I don’t expect much.”

Our eyes met in an unspoken agreement,
because we both expected nightmares of Morgan and our mother, but
then Emily slipped easily under Aern’s shoulder and the tightness
at the corner of her eyes relaxed. “Be safe, Brianna,” she
said.

I managed a smile. “I will.”

It struck me that her words were so like
those used by Logan’s men, and my gaze fell to him. He was still
watching me, but now that the three of us were watching him back,
he stepped closer, taking the documents from beneath my arm to
place them in his pack.

He turned to Aern, each taking the other’s
forearm in the traditional Council manner, and they shared their
own unspoken message before Logan said his good-byes and we left
the Council buildings.

I had very little to say on the ride, the
pressure of my mother’s lock of hair inside my pocket a constant
reminder of Morgan and what had come to pass. It was time to take
action, I knew that, but if I didn’t find some sign or clue soon,
I’d be fighting blind. And I didn’t think I could trust myself not
to go for Morgan first. Especially now.

Chapter Eleven

Dragons

The echo of Logan’s car door in the near
empty garage startled me out of my thoughts. He was opening my door
a moment later, ushering me to the place only Aern and I knew as
his home. I was only vaguely aware of the extra bags he carried
until we were inside and he placed them on the kitchen counter.

“
You picked up supplies?” I
asked.

“
Only a few things. They had
extra,” Logan answered as he sorted containers into the
refrigerator and cabinets.

I smiled. The houses of the Seven Lines were
never wanting for anything. And then I realized I was watching him
far too closely. Again.

I cleared my throat. “I’m
going to …” I trailed off, pointing vaguely toward the bedroom as I
was stifled by my lack of a good term for what I was doing that
didn’t sound like
freshen up
or
slip into something
more comfortable
.

Logan nodded toward the pack that held the
journals we’d collected from Morgan’s office. “I gathered a few
things for you as well. I know you weren’t planning on spending
this many days away.”

I stepped to the end table that held the bag,
folding the top back to find two blouses, a clear zippered bag of
travel sized soaps and lotions, and, to my horror, at least one
pair of underthings. I stared up at Logan, mortified, and he
immediately amended his explanation. “Ava put some things together.
For you.” He rubbed a palm across his chest. “They keep extra on
hand is all.”

I closed the flap, schooling my features.
“Thank you. I’ll just …” With a tilt of my head, I backed toward
the bedroom door. When I was hidden safely behind it, I held my
head in my hands.

Eventually, I dropped the
bag onto the bed, grateful to find the documents packed into a
separate compartment from the clothes. After carefully spreading
out the contents of the document side, I dumped the remaining items
onto the charcoal comforter. Clearly Ava had no idea what we were
up to, because she’d included a thin silk blouse and camisole in a
pastel peach shade, and an ordinary black cotton tank top. I ran my
fingers over the material—designer, new, the perfect size—and
wondered what their stockrooms looked like. Or maybe they’d gone
shopping for their
prophecy
girl
. With a sigh, I took a set of fresh
clothes and the zippered bag toward the bath. I paused when I saw
the small carved box atop the side table. The lock of hair pressed
against my hip, and I gently tilted the lid of the box to check
inside. It was empty, the shallow interior seemingly untouched, so
I laid my things aside to retrieve the banded lock from my pocket.
It was oddly ceremonial, placing the last remaining piece of my
mother there, and my chest squeezed for a long moment before I
closed the lid.

I hadn’t gotten over her death, I realized.
It had only gotten easier because I’d accepted the prophecy. I had
accepted my place, and in doing so her place, in the order of
things. I had a purpose. That purpose had been there from the
beginning, but it was as if it had been pushing me, dragging me,
forcing me along with it.

Now I was moving forward of my own accord,
hunting instead of being chased. I would find the clue. I would
choose our fate. And I was incredibly grateful Logan had a nice
shower.

I leaned forward into the spray, allowing the
steady thrum of water hitting stone to drown out my thoughts,
willing the heat to permeate my muscles, stiff from the days of
tension and disuse. I ran a hand absently over the scar on my side,
aware that it could have been far worse. In a matter of weeks I had
nearly healed. We might not have been as capable as those of the
Seven Lines, but there was something in Emily and me that allowed
us to repair faster and easier than the average person. Something
that made us not quite human.

Twisting the handle, I closed off the spray
with that train of thought. I ran a towel and comb through my hair,
and by the time I’d made my way to the bedroom, I’d already
populated a mental list of which documents to review first, which
of Morgan’s things held the most promise for a hint of that clue. I
threw on the black tank over a pair of designer jeans and stood
barefoot above the journals.

It was the notebook that my hand reached for
first, despite my utter dread of the idea. I pressed a knee into
the bed, leaning on one leg as I paged through Morgan’s notes and
scrawls. Dragon, drascendo, drestillia, draco. Mare, visum, oculus,
serpens. Born of the Serpent. Daughter of Great Power. Eyes of the
Sea. It was random and it was prophecy and no matter how many times
he’d written it, it meant nothing to me.

And then it did. Suddenly, unquestionably, it
did. My fingers drew back from the words as if I’d been burned; a
terrible, undeniable sharpness was there that hadn’t been before as
I reread our names:

Emily Elizabeth Drake

Brianna Katherine Drake

Daughter of Great Power. Born of the
Serpent.

Emily was the chosen. We’d been wrong again,
it hadn’t only mentioned one of us. We were both there in the
prophecy, hidden among clever phrasing. Two of us, but she was the
chosen. The daughter of Great Power.

I was the Serpent, but not a
snake. My mother had misled us. She’d left the clue there, right in
front of us the entire time. I felt like such a fool. I was the one
who’d trained for this. My sister was our physical protector and I
was supposed to be the warrior of … of
knowledge
. But I’d not seen it. I was
too close. Or I didn’t
want
to see it.

But it was there, and Morgan had found it.
Dracosicarie. Our mother had taken our very name from it. My feet
were moving, though I’d no idea why. I’d kept secrets my whole
life, and yet I was heading toward Logan, an incredible need to
share this. To tell him.

I stepped through the door to find him
perched on the sofa, elbows braced against his knees. His face went
blank for one instant when he saw me frozen in the doorway, and I
had the distinct feeling he was remembering me in his shirt again.
But then he saw my expression and stood, immediately back to Logan,
my protector.

I took a step toward him, unable for a moment
to form the right words, and then he was standing before me, hand
coming to my bare shoulder. “What is it, Brianna?”

My eyes fell to the notebook, over the words
that held our future.

“
Dracosicarie,” I said,
running my fingers across the letters. “The words are not the same,
Logan. It doesn’t mean what we thought.” My gaze came up to meet
his. “Drake. She took our name from the old text. From this,” I
pointed at Morgan’s handwriting, “Dracosicarie.”

I could see the recognition in his face as
the acid words ran through my mind. Logan would know what they
meant. Not the daughter of the Serpent. Sicarie. As in assassin.
Murderer.

Dragon Slayer.

Logan’s mouth moved, as if he planned to say
something, to comfort me, but there were no words. He was Aern’s
best friend. He’d been trained his whole life to protect the Seven
Lines, to protect the blood of the Dragon.

“
Is it all a lie?” I
whispered. “The prophecy. Logan, is it—”

“
No.” His voice was thick.
“No, Brianna. You just,” he struggled for words, and then decided,
“it can’t be.” He stared into my eyes with a determination and
trust I didn’t feel. “You are here to save us.”

My stomach dropped. Logan hadn’t seen my
visions, hadn’t felt those images of Aern. The fire, pulsing
through the city. The end of everyone.

I was here to save them, but from whom?
Morgan was harmless now, a captive of the Division. The only other
dragon was bound to my sister.

Logan’s hand wrapped around my other arm and
he forced me to meet his gaze. “It’s just another clue, Brianna.
One more hint from your mother. To save us.”

I tightened trembling fingers on the
notebook. “Okay,” I answered. “One more clue.” I pressed my lips
together, fighting hard to decide what this meant. Had she been
leaving me clues? And if so, what else had Morgan discovered? The
lock of hair, the notes, they couldn’t mean he was simply obsessed
with her after she was gone. There had to be some reason he still
believed. There had to be some reason he was meant to stay alive.
“Do you know where he held her?” I asked.

Logan’s grip on my arms loosened.
“Morgan?”

I nodded. “Council didn’t know he had her,
right? So he must have been keeping her somewhere else.” Logan’s
stare softened as he considered my question. “Somewhere he’d gone,
probably alone. You and your men were watching him, right?”

The alarm in my expression was replaced by
this new resolve, so Logan’s arms fell to his sides, one hand
slipping into a jean pocket. “We did,” he answered. “Not
officially, of course—”

I cut him off. “Then where? Where did he hide
her?”

“
Brianna, you don’t
understand his schedule. A man like that, his life isn’t so easy to
track.”

“
Make a list,” I said. “It
will be somewhere dark and cold. Two of the walls are reinforced
metal. The doors are painted gray; some place industrial, I’m sure
of it. Florescent lights, concrete floor, and she can hear him
coming for a long while before he gets there, so it must be a big
building. Open I think, aside from the room she’s in.”

Logan stared at me. “Brianna,” he tried to
keep the concern from his features, “you can see her?”

I swallowed hard. I hadn’t meant to tell him
that. My eyes trailed back to his. “Not now.”

Not since she’s
dead
.

There was a long silence before Logan wet his
lips. “I’ll make some calls.”

Chapter Twelve

Abandoned

I’d settled onto the couch while Logan
created a list of addresses. My bare feet were tucked underneath me
as I paged through the other documents when he finally sat his cell
phone on the narrow coffee table.