The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(181)

Hannah wiped her eyes. “I won’t.”

“I will not lose you today.”

“You won’t,” Hannah said. It occurred to her that she wasn’t entirely faithless after all.

“Are you ready?”

They clasped fingers in the dainty little way of children, and then anxiously pulled apart. Amanda coated her hands with shiny white tempis. Hannah shifted into the blue.

The Great Sisters Given stepped forward into the fray.





THIRTY-TWO




The matron healer watched the wall of monitors, her sausage fingers curled with tension. In her prime, Olga Varnov had been a knockout blonde of stunning proportions. Now her hair was gray as ash and her body stood a balloon-sculpture parody of its former self. Not that she cared. Her need for beauty had perished at age twenty, when a bad reversal rendered her infertile, unsuitable for marriage. She’d grown content in her role as the clan’s beloved nurse and nanny. There wasn’t a Gotham under forty who hadn’t had their diapers changed or their wounds undone by Mother Olga.

She followed Amanda’s progress from screen to screen as the lovely young woman brushed the wall of the lobby, clutching her crucifix necklace in fright. On another monitor, three hazy figures crept down the stairwell, all lumiflaged against the backdrop like chameleons. Olga knew Ben Herrick could sear poor Amanda to a crisp while Colin Chisholm could cut her to shreds with flying knives of tempis. They advanced slowly on their prey, approaching a range close enough to guarantee an instant kill.

Olga clutched her giant bosom and turned away. “I can’t watch. This is slaughter.”

“You don’t have to look,” said Ivy. “Just be ready if things go bad.”

Ilavarasi Sunder was an Indian beauty of thirty-three, as tall and slender as the woman Olga pitied. She sported the same black bodysuit she wore at the Terra Vista siege, only now the nylon was stretched by a ten-week baby bump. Ivy only had to think of her child to erase all doubt about her mission. She only had to recall the gruesome death of Krista Bloom to shed her empathy for these Pelletier pets.

She stood behind her diminutive niece, who feverishly worked the camera console. As always, Gemma dressed well beyond her ten years of age, sporting the blouzer/skirt combo of a power executive. It was an improvement over the sleek-a-boo tinytops she usually wore.

“See anything yet?” Ivy asked her.

“No.”

“I don’t mean the cameras.”

“I know what you meant. If Azral and Esis were coming, I’d be screaming right now.”

Ivy sighed with guarded optimism. It seemed these breachers were on their own. Of course she’d thought the same thing in Terra Vista, just before her best friend was brutally butchered by Esis. Oh Krista. I left you to die. I failed you so horribly. Please forgive me.

Their command center was located four blocks north of the ambush site, in a tenth-floor office that was currently closed for renovation. Three of the walls were raw wooden beams. The fourth stood bare in plaster.

Ivy only needed one solid surface for her portals. She was ready to extract wounded teammates at a moment’s notice. There would be no more casualties, she swore. Not on her side.

—

Hannah sped like a missile through the sofa clusters, launching her frantic gaze in every direction. After two dashing circuits around the lobby, a hot cry of relief escaped her throat. There were no corpses to be found here. Zack and Mia must have fled through a different exit.

Beyond the slow-motion dribble of the tiered stone fountain, she caught her sister’s laggard form. Amanda kept to the walls beneath the overhang, out of view of any high snipers. Hannah couldn’t see any movement on the upper levels.

Her heart lurched when she heard soft footsteps behind her. She spun around and raised her pistol.

Bruce Byer jumped back and threw his hands up. Unlike everything else in the sluggish blue haze, the man who’d impersonated Peter Pendergen moved quickly and carried a faint red tint to his countenance. He squawked fearful words that were too rushed for Hannah to understand. She realized, with mad consternation, that he was shifted at an even higher speed than hers.

She concentrated until his crimson hue vanished and she matched his velocity.

“—not my idea!” he yelled. “I was against this from the start!”

Hannah kept the gun fixed on him. The man had set them up to die like clay ducks in a shooting gallery. Now she’d caught him sneaking up on her. She didn’t think it was to apologize.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you in your stupid lying face!”

“None of this was my choice! The elders forced me into it! Rebel’s got them all—”

“Rebel?! He’s here?”

“Yeah. This was his trap. My only job was to take the call and meet you guys here. I wasn’t supposed to fight you. I’m not a fighter at all.”

Hannah could see that. Any hint of masculinity he’d displayed as Peter Pendergen was now utterly gone. She squinted at him skeptically. “What are you then? An actor?”

“Yes, actually. A very accomplished one. I’ve been on Broadway.”

She knew there were a hundred better questions she could be asking right now, but her mouth got ahead of her. “In what?”

“God. Lots of things. Angeline, Dog Days, One Summer in Paris. I was with the touring company of Babes in Toyland.”