Storm of Shadows (Lumineers 1)

CHAPTER 26: THE BOWELS OF THE TEMPLE

Conrad felt his beacon vibrate and he swore. He knew. He knew something wasn't right. That this was different. He'd received word that morning directly from Ghost. Rampage was missing, presumed dead like the others. Ghost was calling everyone in.

Minutes ago, he'd watched Carver disappear in a carriage with Clarabel, set for Solaris. He didn't trust Clara to go the journey alone for more reasons than one. Carver was irreplaceable, but he could spare him for a few days. Carver had served him for nearly fifteen years, and Conrad had trained him, taught him to think like a Spect under the simple guise of a butler. And while he'd never been given an apprentice—thank Light for that—he considered Carver to something similar. Though the man was nearly ten years his senior.

Shutting the drapes, shielding Dorwald Street from view, he sighed and turned away, leaving the drawing room. There was no telling what would happen tonight. Caution drove him to scribble a quick note to Prince Albert, nothing discernible should it fall into the wrong hands. A mere warning.

The summons was for thirty minutes from now, so he gathered his things and went to the Temple. The sky's light was already fading. He slipped through the atrium, his face hooded and shadowed, down into the bowels, donning his full mask as soon as was possible.

His entire existence was built around caution. Keeping his true identity hidden from the Spectrum, keeping his Spectrum identity hidden from his day-to-day life, was near impossible. Albert had helped some. But every day was a struggle.

With his full mask in plain view, he moved more freely and removed his hood. It was the only aspect of his life he appreciated—the anonymity. He entered Ghost's council chamber as Deadlock. It was nearly empty. Ghost stood in the center beneath the violet prism, with Sin and Flint beside him.

"Ah, good." Ghost turned to acknowledge his entry. "Deadlock, there's been a development."

"We have a traitor in our midst," Flint said, stepping forward. His mask was unnecessarily elaborate, made of finely molded metal. That of a face wearing its own quarter mask, topped with a tricorn, and finished with a head of metallic curls.

"A traitor." He kept his voice even.

"We need not fear," Flint added. "The threat is neutralized."

"Where's Reaper?" He feared the answer already. "Was it he...?"

"No, no." Ghost waived a hand. "He is with the rogue as we speak."

"And are you going to tell us who? Who has been hunting us?" Sin asked. His mask was molded in the shape of a skull, embellished with gemstones.

"I think it best you see for yourselves." Ghost's tone gave nothing away. "Follow me."

Conrad said nothing—could say nothing that might incriminate himself. There had always been a chance that Tabby might succumb to this fate. They had both discussed it. But she was clever, and resourceful, and he had hoped it would not happen.

Still, he braced himself for what he was about to see as Ghost led them from the council chamber.

***

Tabby opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was the cold. It kissed her bare shoulders and made her shiver. The second thing she noticed was the smell—one she could never forget. Something moved around in a muted blur. She blinked, and blinked again, bringing everything into focus.

Then her heart stopped.

Her surroundings were horrifyingly familiar. Each of her breaths heightened until she was gasping. Memories sent her reeling backwards to another time.