Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(26)

"The VP has a family. I hope they're not watching this," I quavered.

"Corinne, I need you to be steady for tonight," August said.

"I know."

*

Ilya

For perhaps the hundredth time, I wondered about Corinne's past. Yes, I knew about the terrorist attack in France, now, but what about before then? Did she have a family? Was her orphan comment to James misleading? I didn't even know how old she was when the drug was administered.

The Mansion has a library, and I'd visited it twice—once to research the names of those who'd died in the Louvre attack. None of them appeared to be Corinne. That meant that she was either not reported among the deaths, or it had been covered up, somehow. My guess was the latter, but I had no way to prove it.

Everything I did was scrutinized, but I couldn't say they watched me any closer than they did Corinne. We were the wild cards, she and I. How she'd managed to escape them for more than five years and live outside the Mansion still astounded me, and why she'd allowed them to pull her back in by displaying a bit of her talent astounded me more.

Corinne wasn't stupid. Not by a far shot. She was vulnerable, though, and she knew that better than anyone. Perhaps she realized—more than any of us—what was coming and decided to do something about it. I gripped her hand tighter for a moment before patting it and letting go.

"We have to get dressed, cabbage," I told her. "We'll get through this."

*

Corinne

I decided not to read anything into the cabbage comment. Wearily, I climbed off the bed and went to find the black dress I was supposed to wear for the evening. Rafe and Dalton left, leaving August standing near the foot of my bed.

"Corinne, someone will be taking care of the VP's family," he sighed before following the others out the door.

"Too bad somebody can't take care of us, too," I muttered, slipping the black evening dress off its hanger with shaking hands.

*

Nobody spoke to the Secretary's entourage—they all spoke to him, offering their condolences on the loss of the Vice President. In multiple languages. Another interpreter stood beside the Prime Minister as he and the Secretary shook hands, but I wasn't surprised.

Mary Evans likely had other places to be when the shit hit.

All I had to do was control my shaking and the panic attack that threatened.

Ilya, I thought, please be everything I think you are.

*

Ilya

I heard her. I always hear her. A part of me wanted to tell her that. Another part waited to hear everything, in case she told me something I really wanted to know. I wasn't sure how to interpret what she'd said, however.

Was it related to my taking her hand, earlier, or for my other talents? I nodded and smiled, just as the others did while we followed in the wake of the Secretary of State. Did I know that Maye watched me, ready to defend the Secretary in case I went wild?

Of course.

She had no idea that I meant him—and all the others—no harm. There were some I did want to harm, however, but they were far away and of no concern to her.

"Rafe?" Corinne was beside me.

"Cabbage?"

"Exits?"

"Got them."

"Gonna need 'em. Now."

*

Notes—Colonel Hunter

The lights flashed and a few female guests screamed when an outside wall was hit by an explosive. The loud boom was accompanied by the entire building shaking, as if we were having an earthquake. This sort of thing had happened only once before—that's why the gate had been erected at the entrance years ago.

That didn't matter now—someone, somehow, had gotten around that safeguard. Maye, Kevin and Ken surrounded the Secretary of State while two guards stepped up beside the Prime Minister, ready to herd both to safety. I didn't have time to look for Corinne, Dalton or Rafe.

I shouldn't have worried.

Corinne grasped Dalton by the hand and led him toward one of the exits; he'd wanted to run in the opposite direction. Rafe ran behind them, clearing a space for the rest of us.

The emergency lights came on, affording us enough illumination to see. The Prime Minister and his guards weren't arguing with our impromptu escape route, so I realized Corinne was heading in the proper direction.

I shouldn't have been surprised. The second blast hit, shaking the floor beneath us, knocking furniture over and dropping light fixtures onto a screaming, fleeing crowd. Yes, I knew they were running in the wrong direction, but you generally can't stop a frightened mob; you'll get run over if you try. Attempting to shout into the din as walls fell and glass shattered would be equally pointless. I didn't try.

I only recall seeing a small sign next to a narrow stairway leading downward after traversing several halls. The image stuck in my mind, however, as the last thing I read in the dim light when the third blast hit, vibrating the floor beneath our feet.

The green, rectangular sign, roughly the size of my hand, proclaimed in white letters, To Bomb Shelter Area, with an arrow pointing down the stairs.

That's where we went.

I knew people behind us were dead as we raced down the steps as quickly as we could, Corinne and Rafe still in the lead, the Prime Minister, his guards and the Secretary of State right behind. Dalton had dropped back to the middle; I brought up the rear, with Ken beside me. A bit of smoke billowed behind us, telling me the building was on fire.