Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(45)

Sophie knew it wouldn’t work, but she grabbed a rock anyway, launching it at his head with all the strength she had.

Biana yanked them out of the way as the rock ricocheted, knocking a football-size crater in the tree they’d been standing in front of.

“You have to stop doing that,” Biana said.

“I agree,” the Neverseen member told them. “Those energy blasts are such a waste. And I believe this is what we call a stalemate. You can’t get to me—and if I leave this shield, you’ll unleash your Inflictor rage. So I’m going to stay right here, where it’s nice and cozy.”

Sophie turned to Biana, keeping one eye on the Psionipath. “How long before the force field wears off?”

“Long enough for someone to come to check on me,” he told her.

“And there’s no way to break through the force field?” Sophie whispered.

Biana shook her head. “Psionipaths created the shields that keep Atlantis livable underwater.”

“Like I said”—he traced his fingers along the glowing field of white energy—“we have a stalemate. So what are you going to do?”

“More of them could show up any second,” Biana whispered.

“But one of the Neverseen is right there—how can we just leave?” Sophie asked.

They hadn’t learned what he was doing to the tree—and what if he knew what happened to Keefe’s mom?

“Your Telepath tricks won’t work,” he said, somehow guessing what Sophie was planning.

Sophie ignored him, hoping her tweaked abilities would come through as she gathered her mental strength and reached for his mind. As soon as her consciousness hit the force field, it split into a thousand directions, like shoving her thoughts in a blender without the lid on.

The Psionipath laughed as she clutched her temples, struggling to fight through the headache. “Clearly the Black Swan forgot to give you any common sense.”

Fury and frustration clouded Sophie’s vision, and she fought them back, knowing she had nowhere useful to inflict them.

“Don’t think I haven’t realized you’re not here alone,” he added. “You couldn’t have leaped here—our sensors would’ve detected it. So that leaves dwarves and gnomes, and I’m betting on a gnome. Where’s your little friend hiding? Probably not close, otherwise they would’ve tried to help you.”

“You seem to know a lot about us,” Sophie said, hoping she sounded calmer than she felt.

Maybe if she egged him on, he’d slip and tell her something useful.

“How could I not?” he asked. “I’ve been hearing about Project Moonlark for years. How does it feel to know the sum total of your existence is to be someone else’s puppet?”

“She’s not a puppet,” Biana spit through gritted teeth.

“No, perhaps you’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve always suspected her role would be far more sinister.”

“You want to talk about sinister?” Sophie asked. “I know what you’re doing here. This has to do with the plague, right?”

He snorted so loud, snot probably crusted the inside of his hood. “Is that my cue to outline our entire plan for you? Would you like names and dates, too, or just the general gist? I could also use hand puppets if you’d like, to make it more entertaining.”

Okay, so maybe egging him on wasn’t going to work.

But Sophie had realized something much more troubling.

He could’ve leaped away when they first startled him. But he chose to stay.

Why would he do that—unless he had a plan? And why did she have a feeling they were playing right into it?

Her feet itched to run, but if they turned their back on him, he could drop his force field and attack. And if they leaped away he could go after Calla.

“Ah, you’re turning pale,” he said. “I’m guessing that means you’ve finally realized the gravity of your situation. So what’s it going to be? Run and hide? Don’t think I won’t find you. I know this place better than anyone. I came here all the time when I was a kid.”

“Why would you be in the Neutral Territories?” Biana asked. “The only people who . . . ohhhhhhhhhh.”

“What?” Sophie asked as Biana shielded her eyes to squint through the force field.

“He went to Exillium,” Biana whispered.

Sophie covered her mouth.

That would mean . . .

“Whatever you think you’ve figured out—you’re wrong,” he insisted.

But Sophie could tell by his rigid shoulders that he was lying.

“Okay, I’m done with this game,” he said. “Surrender now, and save yourselves the pain I’ll put you through otherwise.”

“Or, we could do this,” Biana said, ripping off her Black Swan pendant and flinging it toward the force field.

Sophie braced for the ricochet to blast them with a swan-shaped meteor. But when the glass of the monocle hit the force field, it refracted the light a hundred different directions, unraveling the energy shield in a burst of white flames.

The Psionipath screamed as fire licked up his cloak, and he leaped away before Sophie could charge him.

“Come on,” Biana said, dragging Sophie back the way they came. “We have to get to Calla before he returns with reinforcements.