Eve of Destruction (19 page)

“He was a part of the Valmeri Seven,” Danev explained, “though more importantly, he was Simon’s best friend at the time. I just found out that he’s still alive, and he’s living in Cadotheia.”

The two kids shared a look, and it was clear they immediately knew where this was going.

“If anyone knows what Simon is up to, it’s Jack,” Danev went on. “More importantly, if your mother did know something about Simon—some skeleton in his closet, for example—then Jack’s our best bet of finding out what it was.”

“You want us to go into Cadotheia?” Zach asked incredulously. “After Chaval already tried to kill us once?”

“If anything, that’s proof it doesn’t really matter where you are,” Danev pointed out. “But yes, as dangerous as it sounds—as dangerous as it is—I think it’s our best bet.”

Zach shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” Aram put in.

Zach shot the man a cold glare. “It’s not yours, either. And let me tell you something—”

“We’ll go,” Eve said softly. She stared out distantly at the horizon as if she was trying to see something just beyond it. “If you think this man knows something worthwhile, then that’s who we talk to.”

  “You can’t…” Zach trailed off as he looked at her, his head shaking. “Eve, we can’t go into Cadotheia. That’s Chaval’s base, for Goddess’s sake.”

“I know,” she told him, her amber eyes flicking up to Danev. “What else aren’t you telling us?”

Danev wet his lips. The girl was sharp, he would give her that. “I have my own contacts in Cadotheia—nothing as impressive as Chaval’s, of course, but enough that I’m comfortable going there. I can get us a place to stay, too, so that’s not an issue.”

“But?” she prompted.

“But,” he continued, “depending on what Jack tells us, I’m hoping we also have an opportunity to get back your mother’s journal.”

“You mean steal it from Chaval,” Zach reasoned. “Blessed Kirshal, you can’t be serious.”

Danev smiled coyly. “
We’re
not going to steal anything. My people, however, might be able to. If we’re able to get our hands on that journal, it would tell us everything we need to know.”

“And drive Chaval into a frenzy,” Aram pointed out.

“It’s a risk, certainly, but it’s also not a decision we have to make right now,” Danev said. “First, I want to talk to Jack. He’s the only other member of the Seven that still lives in this part of the country.”

Zach waved an annoyed hand in front of his face. “So let me get this straight: you want us to go to Cadotheia, the mage-hating capital of the country, and talk to an old friend who might be a Dusty sympathizer?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Danev said. “I agree it’s not an ideal solution, but the other choice is to do nothing.”

“The other choice,” Zach growled, “is for us to go home.”

“Which isn’t happening,” Eve told him. Her eyes continued to bore into Danev. “And what about the Vakari? You think she’ll follow us?”

Danev shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s another mystery we might be able to solve. I’m hoping she’ll just reveal herself to us—assuming she
is
genuinely trying to protect you, anyway. We haven’t spotted her anywhere nearby, but I’m sure she’s lurking around.”

“She is,” Aram confirmed, peering over the roof edge again. “Somewhere.”

“I was hoping to learn more about her identity, but so far my contacts in the Enclave haven’t responded yet. Assuming they aren’t involved, I should know more by the time we reach Cadotheia.”

“Involved?” Zach asked, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“The Enclave uses the Vakari as assassins,” Aram told him, the disdain in his voice obvious. “I’ve never heard of them using one as a bodyguard.”

Eve glanced between the two men. “So what are you getting at?”

“The Enclave might be protecting you, or she may be acting on her own,” Danev explained. “The other option is that she may be working directly for Glenn Maltus.”

Her face sagged as her opinion of the man who had once been her neighbor sunk even farther. “Why would he send that…
thing
to look out for us? And why wouldn’t he tell us about it?”

“I wish we knew,” Danev said. “At this point, we’re drowning in questions. If you want to go home, I’ll understand, and if you want to stay, you’re more than welcome to do that, too. But I think our best bet is talking to Jack and seeing what we can find out. I admit, though, that waiting around doesn’t generally sit well with me.”

“Me, either,” Eve whispered. She glanced once to Zach, and it was perfectly clear what the young man thought. It was just as clear, however, that in the end he would go along with whatever she wanted.

“If that’s a yes, then I’ll start making arrangements for the trip immediately.”

“That’s a definite yes.”

“I’ll book a train in the morning, then,” Danev said. “For now, why don’t you head back inside? I’ll have the girls whip up a nice dinner, and we can all get a good night’s sleep before the trip.”

 She nodded once then turned around and headed back inside. Zach glanced darkly between the other two men, and his eyes lingered on Aram for a long, awkward moment. Then finally he sighed and followed her in.

“You say she’s like her mother?” Aram asked after a few seconds.

Danev smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

“Then I can see why you used to fancy her. She has your reckless streak.”

“I prefer to think of it as ‘proactive.’”

Aram grunted. “We’ll see.”

The bodyguard followed the others inside. Danev turned back to the city and took in a deep breath.

“Yes,” he said to no one in particular. “We will.”

***

The double doors to the Hall of Innovation swept open, and Amaya Soroshi strode briskly inside. The building was colossal, easily the largest in all of Cadotheia, and given the impressive size of the city that really meant something. Chaval had erected it a decade earlier as a monument to the greatest inventors of the generation. Originally, he had turned it into something of a museum highlighting the best and brightest discoveries of the past thirty years, and while it still fulfilled that purpose, it also now served as his unofficial headquarters. Cadotheia was his town, a beacon of industry situated squarely in what he liked to call the “heartland” of Arkadia.

But Amaya was not here to see the displays or chat with the dozens of afternoon patrons, reporters, and campaign staffers littering the halls. She knew exactly where Chaval would be, and she headed straight for the upper levels of the building. The cadre of guards simply nodded at her as she passed them. She didn’t want to create more of a scene than was necessary; rumors of his “Talami mistress” were annoying enough already. 

The uppermost level of the Hall was, to her initial surprise, a huge arboretum. Flora from all across the country and even overseas were brought here and meticulously cared for by Chaval’s gardener—and Chaval himself, when he had the time. He liked to come here when he sought seclusion or felt the need to bask in the sunlight under the great glass dome crowning the Hall. The entire thing was a striking juxtaposition to the cold, mechanical feel of the rest of the building.

As Amaya slipped inside, she saw Chaval standing alone, one hand behind his back as he inspected a dark green weed of some type.

“Few of my employees in your situation would return to me at all, let alone stride up here as if nothing had happened,” he said the moment the doors swung shut behind her. He didn’t turn. “Most would have fled to the east or even left the country. But then I remembered you were Talami, so if you thought you failed badly enough, you might just kill yourself and spare your family the dishonor.”

Amaya stopped about ten meters behind him and waited patiently. He could vent all he wanted; once he learned what she had to say, everything would change. She’d only sent him the briefest of messages before leaving Vaschberg, a very basic “mission failed” and little else. She hadn’t even bothered to use her sending stone. This was one story she wanted to tell in person.

“So then, the question changes,” Chaval continued. “It becomes: why are you still alive?”

“DeShane has a guardian.”

He grunted softly. “Yes, we know that. A mysterious protector who killed our men in Lushden and—”

“It’s a Vakari.”

Chaval froze. Even the plant he was tending seemed to petrify at the mention of the word. “You’re certain?”

“She was shot several times at point blank range,” Amaya told him. “No human would have survived that.”

He finally pivoted around to face her. She noticed he had a thick, tattered book in his right hand. 

“You saw her blood, then?”

Amaya nodded. “Yes. It was difficult to miss.”

Chaval eyed her for a long moment, his face unreadable. “Well, my question remains valid: how did you survive?”

“I ran,” she said flatly. “I sent the wire and came straight here.”

“How good of a look did you get? Any details, features?”

“Not really,” Amaya admitted. “She wore a nondescript, full body coat you could find on a few thousand people outside. She also had a red scarf wrapped around her face. And she was tall—probably 180 centimeters or more.”

“Weapons?”

“She had a sword, of all things, and a bandoleer full of throwing knives.” Amaya paused and took a deep breath. “She was also a mage.”

Chaval’s jaw tightened and he slowly paced back and forth. He’d undoubtedly come to the same conclusion she had: the Enclave had finally gotten involved. She wasn’t sure what had taken them so long—the election was only weeks away, and Chaval seemed to have it under wraps. The odd thing was that Vakari were typically used as assassins, not bodyguards. So why had this one been defending Tara DeShane’s daughter? Why hadn’t she come after Chaval herself?

“Curious,” he said eventually, idly tapping the back of his book. “They must already know, then.”

Amaya frowned. “Know what, sir?”

He smiled crookedly, holding up the book. “What’s in Tara DeShane’s journal, of course. It has proven to be every bit as enlightening as I hoped.”

“So she really was a prophet?”

“I never doubted that,” Chaval said. “I simply wondered how relevant her most recent visions would be to us, especially given the last message she sent me.”

Amaya nodded. He had never told her exactly what DeShane’s message had said when it arrived a few months ago, but he had hinted at the fact it was a not-so-veiled threat against his presidential campaign. It was what had prompted his move against her in the first place.

“In any event,” Chaval went on, “this Vakari may have done us a favor.”

“How do you mean?”

 “It seems Tara was a haunted woman,” he explained, a trace of amusement creeping into his voice. “While she was still carrying her daughter, she had a terrible vision about her child’s future. Namely, that unborn Evelyn would grow up to become a Defiler.”

That term Amaya understood well. In Talam, they were called
Rukoya
, and they were the reason she was here serving a man like Chaval. The legacy of the Lo’sai Dynasty was a testament to their unbridled ambition, and her barren country was the result of their destructive power.

Amaya’s hands balled into fists. “You told me once that the Enclave abhorred Defilers.”