Broken Veil (Harbinger #5)(28)

“I won’t stay,” Cettie said, feeling the gooseflesh crawl up her arms. The Myriad Ones were in the room now, converging on her. She felt a shudder. William Russell was trying to stall her so they could mount an attack.

She grabbed her bag and started for the door.

“Don’t you dare leave me here like this! At least put a bullet in my skull! Have enough pity to kill me! You cannot let them find me like this! Cettie! No!”

She felt the fringes of her mind go black, but the sensation cleared a moment later. The Myriad Ones had failed to force themselves into her mind. Why? How could that be? Were the Mysteries protecting her, even though she no longer wore a chain?

“Cettie, please! Please!” Will’s voice throbbed with emotion. “Don’t you care if we all die?”

She looked back at him, feeling disgusted with herself, but the urge to run was primal. Without answering him, she twisted the handle and opened the door.

She took one last look at Will before she turned to leave. His eyes flashed white hot instead of silver. A look of terrible rage filled them. He wrenched one arm so violently the ropes nearly snapped apart. She sensed the power inside him, the full might of the Myriad Ones he’d summoned.

Cettie entered the corridor as the sounds of his cursing blistered her ears.

It was the middle of the night.

And she had nowhere to go.





CHAPTER TEN

RANSOMED



Cettie’s thoughts were awhirl with doubt and dread as she slammed the door behind her. She’d been lulled into a system of thinking that was so far from the truth she could hardly tell in which direction the truth lay. If only she could put some distance between herself and her pursuers, perhaps she could reason things out.

But where could she go? The feelings of helplessness were almost overpowering. The corridor stretched in two separate directions, each leading to a stairway, and she didn’t even know which way to turn. In moments, the man she’d tied up—Will Russell, not Rand Patchett—would be in pursuit of her. Her vision began to blur as the Myriad Ones attempted to overpower her will.

Help me, she begged in a silent prayer. She didn’t feel worthy of an intervention, but she would do anything to escape her tormenters. Death would be preferable to the life she’d been living.

Which way?

She felt a little tug to the right. It couldn’t even be described as a whisper. Just a slight nudge. And so she started that way, feeling tears in her eyes. Maybe she should go down to the inner gardens where the darkness would help conceal her. No, darkness wasn’t her friend. It was the middle of the night, the peak of the Myriad Ones’ power. Anguish and guilt ripped through her, and she tried to stifle a sob, failing.

She made it past the door immediately next to the suite she’d shared with Rand—no, Will—and an older man poked his head into the hallway. He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt exposed and miserable and looked away from his searching face.

“Is everything all right, demoiselle?” he asked. “I heard a commotion next door.”

Nothing was all right, but his words of concern made her slow her flight. She looked at him again, taking in his kind eyes, his grandfatherly appearance.

“Someone is pursuing me,” she found herself saying. “I can’t stay.”

“The young man . . . from your room?” said the older fellow.

Cettie nodded and was about to increase her pace when he opened the door wider.

“The Fountain bid me help you,” he said, gesturing for her to come inside. “You will be safe in here.”

She stopped when she heard a loud crash from the room she had fled. The kishion was free. Indecision wrenched her insides. This old man might be killed if she accepted his help.

“Monseigneur, I cannot,” Cettie said, looking back at her door. She needed to run. Now.

“You will be safe here,” he repeated, stepping away from the door.

“You will not,” she said. There was something strange about the moment, almost a feeling of familiarity. Had she experienced this moment in a dream? She blinked rapidly, realizing her indecision was going to get both of them killed.

The old man gestured with his hand, palm up, silently repeating his invitation. There was a small lamp lit within the chamber, but it was full of shadows, as if he’d been sleeping until the recent disturbance.

Cettie bit her lip, unsure, and then accepted the offer for simple pragmatic reasons. She really didn’t have any other choice if she wanted to escape. As she went inside, she heard the door handle jangle in the room she’d shared with the kishion. She’d escaped with not one moment to spare. The old man silently pressed his door closed, keeping the handle pressed down so that the latch wouldn’t click.

“Cettie!” boomed a voice in the hallway. Will was furious.

Her heart quailed with dread. She didn’t want to fight him again, but she would do it to protect the old man who’d helped her. Leaning back against the wall, gripping the pistol she had taken from Will, she used her free hand to loosen her bodice and feel for the kystrel. Despite what had happened earlier, she was desperate to rip it off. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Gooseflesh danced up her arms. The ghosts had followed Will out into the corridor. She swallowed, trying to make herself small. Strangely, the spectral beings did not walk through the walls.