A young soldier with a mop of blond hair steps into the room, eyes wide, shoulders hunched as if he’s entering a war zone. He glances at me with a mixture of fear and wonder.

“What is it, Matthews?” Flanagan snaps, making the poor lad flinch.

“I’m sorry, Commander. Captain Nelson sent me. The Blood Guard have hit the labs at Headquarters, sir.”

My heart lurches. Is Alexei attacking the labs for me? I dismiss the thought. Of course he isn’t. It’ll be some other devious ploy.

Though judging by the way everyone glances at me, I’m not the only one asking that question.

Chapter 19

19

“Will you take Zahir up on his offer?” Laasya strides six stairs ahead of me, swallowing two at a time, dress hoisted to free her sprightly legs. She bounces without effort and makes stairs look easy.

I’ve got iron manacles on my ankles and a heavy chain between the ones on my wrists—Flanagan also replaced the collar to be on the safe side, much to my growling complaint—but even with the extra weight, I expect to climb steps faster than Laasya. She’s just so small and slight. I’m not sure how we started racing. It took us over on the first set of stairs.

Laasya’s taking me on a quiet route to Quinton’s office to show me his library. I asked her for books on the supernatural world and its history, and Quinton’s extensive collection offers an alternative to the public library downstairs that will no doubt be choked with students.

Flanagan has rushed off to London with Quinton. The councilor is Gating him there, whatever that means. He left me in Laasya’s care and said we would start training when he returned.

After one of Laasya’s sandwiches, produced from her cloth bag, she brought me to these stairs. She seems to know every secret passage through Blackriver’s complexity of corridors. We avoided most of its occupants, but not all. Their reception varied between curiosity and suspicion. Some Guardians treat me like a visiting superstar, pummeling Laasya with questions. Others are warier, their expressions suggesting I’m a criminal escaped from lockdown.

We reach the top of six flights, and though I’m sweaty and panting, Laasya looks like she’s been strolling through a park.

“How…?”

Her smile takes a mischievous edge. “I’m a telekinetic. I cheat.”

“That’s some cheat.”

She leads me down the red-carpeted hall with its posh vases and many paintings toward Quinton’s door.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says.