Boundless (Unearthly, #3)(68)

Christian starts pulling me down the stairs.

But Asael sighs. “I wish I could believe you, my dear.”

“What?” Angela’s confused.

“You have no intention of taking us to your son. I hate to think of the wild goose chase you’d lead us on.”

“No, I swear—”

“You’ll give me what I want,” he says almost cheerfully. “Eventually. A few hours in hell and you’ll be drawing me a map to the child, I think.” His voice hardens. “All right, Olivia. I’m tired of playing games.”

“Wait!” Angela says desperately. “I said I would—”

Someone gags—a muffled cough, choking.

“Mom!” Angela’s crying, struggling against someone’s arms. “Mom! Mom!”

Anna whispers hoarsely, “God help me,” and falls heavily to the floor.

I can smell her blood.

God help me.

“Mom,” whimpers Angela. “No.”

The reality of what’s happened breaks over me like a tidal wave. We’ve waited too long, too afraid to take action. We’ve let this happen. We’ve let them kill her.

“Let’s go,” Asael says.

They move swiftly toward the door, giving Christian only seconds to drag me down the stairs before we’re seen. There’s not enough time to make it across the lobby and out into the street. He pulls me inside the auditorium, moving us blindly into the dark.

For a few minutes I stand in the blackness, quaking, my eyes going in and out of focus, my stomach cramping, yet at the same time I feel strangely disconnected from my body, like I’m seeing myself from a distance. From a vision, maybe. My vision.

Anna is dead. Angela is being taken to hell. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

The group comes down the stairs, Phen first, from the little I can see through the two-inch slit in the velvet curtains, then Angela being flanked by two identically dressed dark-haired girls. I don’t see their faces, but something about them strikes me as young, about my own age, maybe even younger. Angela’s face as she passes is shocked; tears gleam on her cheeks. She keeps her eyes down. Then a guy I’ve never seen before saunters by—the one called Desmond, I assume—and finally a man in a black suit who looks enough like Samjeeza that from a distance I doubt I could tell them apart. He raises a hand, and everybody stops in the middle of the lobby.

“You two,” he says. “I want you to stay and clean up.”

“Clean up?” repeats one of the girls in almost a whine. “But Father—”

“Burn the place,” he says.

“But how are we supposed to get back?” asks the other.

“Just take care of it,” he says irritably.

Desmond snickers, and one of the girls hits him hard in the chest. He lifts his fist to retaliate, but Asael stops him, laying a hand on his shoulder in a paternal manner, then turns to Angela and grabs her gently at the back of the neck. He smiles. Leans close to her ear. Whispers, “This, my child, is where you must abandon all hope.”

They vanish.

The first girl makes a disgusted sound, kicks a booted foot against one of the brass poles that holds up a line of velvet rope. It topples to the floor with a resounding crash. “Why do we always get the crap jobs?”

I expect Phen to disappear too, now that his dirty work is done, but he stays. He comes to the theater entrance and pulls back the curtain, forcing Christian and me to slink even farther into the belly of the auditorium, deeper in shadows, crouching among the seats.

“All the world’s a stage,” Phen says absently, like he’s talking to himself. “And all the men and women merely players.”

“What are you talking about?” one of the girls asks him. Their voices are exactly the same, like they’re twins or something, although one of them is wearing a bunch of glinting silver bracelets that occasionally jangle together when she moves. From the sound of it they’re breaking open the cash register at the refreshments counter and scooping out the change.

“I think Father’s done with you,” she says to Phen. “You can go back to your little hidey-hole in Rome. Unless you’d give us a ride home? Would you? That would be so sweet of you.”

“All the world’s a stage,” he murmurs, seeming not to hear her. “A stage.”

He turns, letting the curtain drop, and we’re plunged back into utter darkness.

“Oh, come on,” the girl purrs, “we’ll make it worth your while.”

No answer. He’s gone.

“Jerk,” Evil Twin One mutters. “Where’s the next train station? Like five hundred miles from here, I bet. Dumb hick town.”

“You have to admit, though, Phen’s sexy,” teases Evil Twin Two. “I wouldn’t have minded doing him a favor.”

“Just because he’s in a hot body doesn’t mean he’s not an old man inside,” Evil Twin One retorts.

“That’s right; I forgot,” says Evil Twin Two, obviously chewing on something, probably candy from under the counter. “You only go for younger guys.”

“Shut up. Come on, let’s get this over with,” Evil Twin One says.

It’s quiet for a minute. My heart drums in my ears, hard and fast. Then I catch the first whiff of smoke in the air.