The Young Elites (The Young Elites, #1)(52)

The crowds thin as we near the point that overlooks the beach; only a few scattered figures are out along the rocks and sand, admiring the trio of moons hanging suspended at the horizon. Several Inquisitors stand guard at each of the piers that lead out to the six ships. Long shadows shroud the piers in darkness.

My energy stirs restlessly. Almost time for my debut. I glance briefly up at the roofs of the closest buildings. I can’t see anyone there, but I know that several Daggers are lying in wait, watching us for the first signal.

We head down to the piers. The lights from the festivities make way for the shadows cast by the buildings closest to shore, and I shiver as the cool night air surrounds us. Enzo pulls me close to whisper in my ear. I can feel his lips turned up into a small smile.

“The first pier,” he murmurs. “Watch for me.”

I giggle loudly in return, as if he’d just whispered some romantic nothings in my ear. One of the Inquisitors lounging along the first pier casts us a bored look and then turns away.

We edge steadily closer to the pier, continuing our little charade of romance the entire way. At least, it seems to be a charade for Enzo. Far be it from me to complain—the laughs he coaxes out of me are real, and so is the flush on my cheeks. His hand is hot at my waist, the rivulets of warmth delicious on such a cool night.

Finally, I stumble over a rock and fall, giggling, into his arms. We’re on the far end of the pier now, and the two Inquisitors guarding this pier are barely a few yards away. One of them holds up a gloved hand. “No one allowed past this point,” he says, nodding in our direction.

Enzo gives them a disappointed sigh. He places a hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder. All pretense of lightheartedness vanishes from his face—in the blink of an eye, he has transformed from a smiling boy to a predator.

The Inquisitor looks at Enzo’s hand in surprise. But before he can brush it off, his eyes widen. He shoots Enzo a stricken look. Beside him, his partner’s stance wavers.

“Are you all right?” he asks the first Inquisitor. He draws his sword—but before he can do anything else, the sword unravels right before his horrified eyes. It reappears a dozen yards away, falling uselessly to the sand. Michel is here in the darkness.

Enzo touches his other hand to the second Inquisitor’s arm. Both of them open their mouths in silent screams.

He’s melting them from the inside. Even knowing that this was the plan, the sight catches me off guard. I look on in horror as their faces turn red and contort in agony. Blood leaks from one’s mouth. They shudder.

“Now,” Enzo whispers to me.

I reach within and pull on my energy right as the two Inquisitors’ knees buckle, sending them collapsing to the pier’s deck. All around us, I conjure a vision of an empty pier—planks of wood appear over where the Inquisitors lie—and Enzo and I both disappear behind an illusion of waves and night air, rendering both us and the dead men invisible. The darkness and unease in me soars, thrilling my heart, and I embrace the ecstasy. On top of this illusion, I weave an image of two white-cloaked Inquisitors standing as if nothing had happened. Up close, it’s easy to tell that the two fake Inquisitors are nothing more than smoke and air, their faces too simple to be real. But from the point of view of anyone who might look in this direction from afar, it’s a convincing cover.

The whole scene looks as if we were never here. As if I’m not standing in front of two corpses.

Such power. I swirl in the midst of it all, my jaw clenched, my lips curving into a triumphant smile even as another part of me recoils at what we just did. I feel numb—in control and yet completely helpless.

Through my invisibility shield, I sense Enzo give me a single nod. I nod back, letting him know that I’m ready. He leaps down from the pier. Fire erupts from both of his hands—he holds them out, and in the shadows, I see a masked figure that must be Michel lift his arms. He unravels Enzo’s flames, then reforms them far down the pier onto the deck of the first ship, near its crates of fireworks. The two vanish into the darkness. Seconds later, I hear the sound of startled shouts from the ship.

My hands tremble. Flashbacks of the night when I killed my father come rushing back to me, clouding my illusions. Suddenly my father’s ghost smiles at me in my thoughts. I think I can even see him standing on the pier. You’re a murderer, Adelina. Nice to see you coming into your own.

Seeing him disrupts my concentration—the shroud I’d put over the two dead Inquisitors at my feet suddenly vanishes, revealing them to the world. I start running to the second pier. My mind is completely numb; the image of the dead men is seared into my vision. Keep going. You can’t afford to stop. My attention turns to the buildings lining the harbor, and to the other Inquisitors patrolling the other five piers. Taking a deep breath, I call forth more of my energy. The threads pull taut in my mind, protesting.

I force them to bend, then to weave together.

Against the walls of the buildings, silhouettes of people run by. Illusions of dark blue hoods. Suddenly, Daggers seem to be everywhere on the piers. Inquisitors on the other piers raise the alarm—I conjure Daggers all around them, then run toward the second pier. My fear heightens, and as it does, so do the illusions closest to me. Inquisitors call for help as they strike out against my phantom Daggers. I reach the second pier under cover of invisibility just as flames ignite onboard the second ship.

“They’re all fake!” one of the Inquisitors cries as his sword slashes straight through one of my illusions. He calls on the other soldiers to stop, but they’re all too distracted, blinded with fear from my apparitions. “Stop—find the culprit who’s—”