Midnight Thief (10 page)

She wondered if James had a similarly clear picture of her own strengths and weaknesses. She snuck a glance at his face as he studied the map. There really was something about him, and Kyra no longer found it hard to believe that he’d risen to power at such a young age.

After the broad strokes were planned out, they went back through for the specifics. James asked about the area in minute detail—the guard schedules and shelter available on each segment of their path. With each additional point they discussed, Kyra’s respect for James grew. He had a remarkable memory, referring to details she had given him weeks ago, and an impressive ability to map out multiple possibilities and contingency plans at each step. Kyra couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an engrossing discussion. They spoke the same language, instinctively agreeing on the important issues and working off each other’s ideas in quick succession.

“Can you pick the storeroom locks?” James asked.

“Not the outside door. I’ll have to climb in one of the windows and pick the inside entrance. Can you four hide that long in the open?”

“You’re not the only one who can dodge guards, Kyra.”

She looked up, worried she had offended him, but his eyes were friendly, even amused. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down.

“Of course,” she said. “We’ll have an hour or so in the storeroom. Will that be enough?”

“If we work quickly.”

Kyra noticed how close together they were standing—so close she could feel the heat from his forearm as they both leaned over the desk. She flushed and drew her arm away. James pushed back from the table, studying her again with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Kyra.” His voice was soft, lacking its usual edge.

Kyra wondered if she should step back, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, when she sensed James leaning toward her, she lifted her gaze to meet his. She was dimly aware of the rise and fall of his chest as he moved closer. Then he hesitated, lashes flickering as he looked from her eyes down to her lips. Kyra shivered and closed her eyes.

She heard his sharp intake of breath and felt him move away. When she opened her eyes, James was again turned toward the table, face closed.

“It’s a good plan,” he said, deftly rolling up the map. His voice was cold, businesslike. “I’ll tell the others. We’ll do this tomorrow night.”

Kyra stumbled back. She needed air.

“Is there a problem?” asked James.

“No,” she stammered as she backed out the door. “It’s fine.”

Kyra turned and fled into the hallway, taking in huge breaths as she burst out the door into the summer breeze. Over and over, she replayed Flick’s warnings. James was a trained killer. She shouldn’t trust James.
Couldn’t
trust him. And she needed to pull herself together before tomorrow’s raid.

As she walked home, her thoughts gradually cleared. With James a half hour behind her, Kyra felt more herself. But even as her confusion faded, she remembered how it felt to stand next to him. Her forearm was still curiously warm. She touched it and wondered how long it would be before the heat faded.

F I F T E E N

I
n the meantime, Kyra had a job to prepare for. It was one thing to climb the ledges herself, a wholly different challenge to lead others through the grounds. She had gear to check, maps to review, and schedules to memorize. Kyra buried herself in these tasks, going step-by-step through their route and making note of all the places they could hide. For good measure, she sharpened her dagger and replaced the length of rope she used with her grappling hook. It was good to have something to concentrate on, and if James sometimes intruded on her thoughts, she pushed him aside and planned harder.

The next evening, she entered the Palace early. There was a lavish party in the outer compound, and Kyra had to hide periodically from giddy couples out for a walk. Thankfully, drunken voices carried far, and tipsy lovers were not the most observant of people.

The kennels were open air, surrounded by a tall fence. Peering through the slats, she saw fur-covered bodies and heard the occasional snuffle but didn’t see any signs of people. Good, the handlers were gone for the day.

The gate creaked slightly as she pushed it open, and fifty sets of canine ears turned in her direction. There were a few whines. One or two dogs bowed to placate her, and a few of the braver ones sniffed in her direction. Kyra let out a slow breath and closed the gate behind her.

The animals were kept according to type. Closest to the fence were small hounds with floppy ears and friendly dispositions. These were kept in pens of five. The larger attack dogs lived farther back. Each of the bigger dogs was chained to its own doghouse, probably to prevent fights from breaking out.

Kyra made her way around the entire kennel, first hitting all the enclosures. A pinch in each bowl, James had said. The beagles were of two minds. Half cowered in the corner while the other half stayed close, showing her their bellies and whimpering. She mixed the powder into their bowls with no problem. After those, she moved on to the attack dogs. Most whined and backed away. One particularly large wolfhound growled when she came too close, but quieted when she shushed him.

After hitting all the water bowls, Kyra retreated into a corner, hugged her legs, and waited. The dogs remained restless for a while, but gradually returned to their business. Some lay down while others scampered amongst themselves. Gradually, they curled up on the ground, sinking into deep slumber. As more fell asleep, she returned to the ones still awake and commanded them to drink. Finally, the kennel was still except for a few beagles, who blinked sleepily. Kyra was sure they’d soon succumb as well.

“Good night,” she whispered as she made her way out.

She used the trek back as a chance to compose herself. Whatever her thoughts about James, she couldn’t afford to be distracted tonight. Still, when Kyra reached the meeting spot, she was glad for the darkness that obscured her face. James, Rand, Alex, and a fourth who must have been Shea waited for her outside the compound. Her heartbeat quickened when James met her eyes.

“The dogs are asleep,” she said.

“Good,” said James. His manner showed no hint of what had passed between them the day before, and she was grateful. “Let’s go.”

The four men pulled masks over their heads, and Kyra took the lead climbing back up the wall. Once at the top, she scanned the interior. No movement. She tugged lightly on the rope, and it stretched taut as the next person pulled himself up. She recognized Rand by a lock of red hair that had escaped his mask. Kyra made a mental note of each man’s clothing and build so she could identify them from a distance.

One by one, the others climbed over and blended into the shadows on the other side. James came up last, his pale eyes a marked contrast against his black mask. They locked eyes briefly. Kyra was the first to look away. Once he made it over, Kyra followed him down. The group gathered on the other side of the wall, silent specters holding a wordless conference. James motioned at her and pointed down the path. She nodded and set off at a light jog.

The moment they started moving, she knew these men were good. She could barely hear them as they trailed her, following her steadily through the compound’s twists and turns. They didn’t trace each other’s footsteps exactly, but each picked his own path depending on where the others were. Every man made certain to scan in a certain direction, so that the group as a whole had eyes on all sides. They moved as a constantly shifting unit, always aware of one another, no one falling behind.

They approached a crossing where guards often passed. Kyra slowed and, sure enough, heard footsteps in the distance. She raised her hand, and the signal passed back from one assassin to the next until they all took shelter. Kyra ducked behind a bush and waited. A Red Shield marched down the path and continued past. She waited ten breaths after she no longer heard his boots, then waved the others across to the kennel.

No sound came from within as she unlocked the gate this time. A few dogs stirred when it creaked open, but none opened their eyes. The assassins filed in one by one. Kyra locked the fence behind her and led them toward the far gate.

They were three-quarters of the way through when a sharp bark echoed through the kennel. The sound was piercing in the thick silence, and Kyra jumped as the men around her sprang to attention. A guard dog in the back corner pulled at his chain, baring his teeth at the intruders. Had he somehow avoided drinking his water? She advanced on him slowly, holding his eyes, doing her best to project authority. He growled deep in his throat. As she came closer, however, he seemed to notice his pack mates’ unnatural silence. The dog backed up until he finally cowered against the doghouse, whining piteously.

Whining, she could deal with. Nobody would hear him from outside. Later, she’d allow herself to sigh in relief, but not now. She turned back, moving quickly now to the other gate. She paused at the opposite entrance to wait for another guard to pass by. Then they continued to the storehouse.

Kyra hadn’t been in this particular storehouse before, but she’d seen others like it. The lower windows were locked, but the upper ones were easily opened. It was simple, even trivial after her time in the heavily guarded inner compound, to shimmy through one of the higher windows, make her way down, and open the door for the others.

James led the way in, striding down the row of wares. Once in a while, he gestured toward some boxes for someone to take. Kyra’s job was lookout. She posted herself outside the door and scanned for signs of anyone coming.

There was a crunch of boots on gravel, and Kyra raised her hand. James caught her signal and motioned to the others. All four men melted into the shadows. Kyra pulled the door shut and positioned herself right by the entrance, looking out through the crack where door met hinge.

A manservant stepped into view. Why was he wandering around at this time of night? Kyra raised her hand again in warning as he neared. The others stayed motionless behind her. The manservant stopped in front of the door, taking out a key. Kyra pressed herself flat against the wall. If he looked inside and didn’t come in, it was possible he wouldn’t see the men in the shadows. The bolt slid back, and the door opened inward. He entered, passed right by Kyra, took a few more steps, and stopped. Kyra held her breath, willing the man to turn back.

Then she heard him gasp.

Kyra was the first to get to him. Reaching up from behind him, she clamped a hand over his mouth as she drew a dagger against his throat. His eyes rolled back as he tried to see her and a cold sweat broke out over his skin, or was it her own? She peered around his shoulder at James for instruction. The head assassin raised a finger and made a slicing motion across his throat.

She froze. No.

Staring back at James, she shook her head. James pressed his lips together and repeated his gesture. Still, Kyra didn’t move. James fixed his eyes on Rand, motioning him to Kyra with a jerk of his head. The redheaded man stepped toward them.

At Rand’s approach, Kyra’s hostage squirmed in her grasp and thrust his elbow back, catching her painfully in the ribs. She tightened her hand reflexively over his jaw. Her knife dug into his throat. Warm liquid washed over her fingers. The man stiffened and gasped for breath—a gasp that turned into a gurgle as he sank to his knees and slid out of Kyra’s petrified grasp.

It was like the world around her disappeared. The storehouse turned fuzzy; sounds became muffled. Everything went out of focus except for the manservant’s body, crumpled now at her feet. Kyra stared at him, then at her blood-soaked hands. What had she done?

James wasted no time. Ignoring Kyra completely, he signaled Rand. With well-practiced efficiency, Rand disentangled the body from Kyra, threw it over his shoulder, and carried it outside. James gave a few short instructions to Shea and Alex, who picked up some last bundles and scanned the area to clear any signs of their presence. Then he approached Kyra, who was still frozen near the door.

“Clean yourself off and stay out of the way.”

Within minutes they were ready to leave. As Shea pulled her out of the storehouse, she looked for the body but didn’t see it anywhere. Her mind was thick and cloudy, disconnected from the rest of her. Somewhere in the fog, there might have been thoughts screaming to be heard, but she walked in a haze. At one point, they were in front of the kennel, and James ordered her to unlock the door. Somehow, they made their way out.

James grabbed her arm outside the Guildhouse, so hard that she cried out. But the pain brought her back to her senses, and she looked up to find him staring at her.

“Wash yourself out back,” he said.

Kyra fled out the back door, casting about until she got her bearings. She saw the basin and thrust her hands in. This late at night, the water was freezing. She whimpered at the shock, but she kept her hands submerged, rubbing them underwater until she could no longer feel them. When they finally came clean, she inspected her clothing. Her outer tunic was stained and crusted with red-brown splotches. She pulled it off and threw it away in disgust.

She was shaking violently now, chilled by the cold water and wind. She crept, trembling, back into the Guildhouse. The others were still unpacking the bundles, and James stood talking to Alex in a corner. Kyra stepped toward them, then stopped. She couldn’t. Even Rand looked dangerous and frightening in the flickering lanterns. Kyra took one last look at James to make sure he wasn’t watching and bolted for the front door. Once out on the street, she ran.

Her lungs burned and she gasped for breath as she slipped through the back door of The Drunken Dog. She didn’t hear any sounds from the dining room, but there was still light coming from the kitchen. She couldn’t face Bella, not now. Kyra dashed up the back stairs, moving as quickly as she could without making noise. Only when she was in her room did she finally stop to breathe, but even as her own movement slowed, the room started spinning, and she collapsed. Her body gave way to racking sobs. She lay there, curled in a ball, hugging her legs through the convulsions.

She didn’t realize how loud she was until her door opened. Bella didn’t ask any questions, but simply knelt down next to Kyra and cradled her head in her lap. And Kyra let herself be held, as if she were once again the lost child who had just come in off the streets, plagued by nightmares and suspicious of the world. She clung to Bella, and Bella patted her back and stroked her hair until her sobs finally subsided.

Later, after Kyra had quieted, rinsed her face, and accepted a cup of water, Bella finally spoke.

“You’re losing yourself, Kyra. Is it worth it?”

Somehow, it didn’t really surprise Kyra that Bella guessed the heart of her situation, even if she didn’t know the specifics.

“Lettie and Idalee,” she objected halfheartedly.

“They got along fine before you started helping them, and they’ll be fine now. They’re smart girls. Between the two of us and Flick, we’ll figure something out.”

Kyra didn’t argue. She was exhausted, and Bella was right. Her days with the Guild were over.