Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(21)

I’d dreamed about Natalya skulking around the National Museum in Prague two months ago. Or more specifically, I’d scried into one of Natalya’s memories in my sleep. There, she’d left a message for Belle in a secret room, but the dream had abruptly ended the minute she’d heard someone behind her. I could still remember her fear and shock. I thought perhaps it was an Informer, one of the specialized agents that shadow Effigies and bring information back to the Sect. And now I knew that it was Rhys who’d followed her.

Rhys . . . I thought of the blood dripping from his mouth and the light dying from his dark eyes. It wasn’t real, just Natalya’s memories and my dreams blending too seamlessly together while Dr. Rachadi messed around in my head.

Or maybe Natalya’s consciousness was becoming too strong.

You don’t believe me . . . because of your crush?

I squeezed my eyes shut. Two months ago, when I’d brought up Natalya’s trip to the museum with Rhys, he’d been uncomfortable with my even pursuing the subject. And that was before the night I’d faced Saul in France, when Natalya had finally shown me the scene of her death in full: her poisoning at Rhys’s hand.

A dull pain began throbbing in my chest as I considered it. I couldn’t recall every detail of the dream, but I did remember Natalya’s heart calming upon seeing his boyish smile because that’s how I’d always felt. His honey sweetness underlined by the dark charm of a warrior raised from youth for battle. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back home some weeks ago. In the short time I’d known him, I’d attached myself to his kindness, caving in to my own attraction. But like Natalya, I hadn’t realized just how little I knew about him.

Until it was too late.

Rhys killed Natalya. Or did he? Natalya was desperate to live again, and the only way she could do that was to destabilize my mind while I was most vulnerable—when I was scrying into her memories. Then she could slip into my body. It worked the last time in France. All she had to do was show me Rhys killing her. A lie. The perfect scheme. Or the truth.

It was why I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Belle. I just didn’t know.

And now I couldn’t even trust my own mind. I covered my eyes with a shaking palm. What if she got me one day? What would I do then, trapped helplessly in my body? I tried to stop them, because I knew I had to pull myself together and be strong, but a few tears leaked out anyway, slipping through my fingers and trickling down to my ears. Sometimes it was too much.

“Don’t cry, Maia.”

My eyes shuddered open at the feel of his whisper grazing the skin of my ear, his hand on the side of my face. A tender touch. He’d sat down on the bed so quickly, so quietly. My whole body burned from his closeness.

No.

“You’ve been looking for me,” Saul said. “But I’m here now.”

I had already launched at him before the scythe had fully formed in my hand, flames erupting around my body. He moved off the bed with several steps back, quick and careful, side-stepping my first swing. The blade of the scythe lodged into the wall.

I had to calm down. Calm down and capture him. This was my chance.

Yanking the scythe out of the wall, I swung again. Saul could have disappeared just as easily as he’d appeared. Yet he didn’t. A shadow cast from his wide plum hood covered the top portion of his face, but not the upward turn of his full lips. His robes fluttered from the impact of my blade against his hand—a metal hand. Silver and shining, its thin fingers connected by bulbous joints that whirred noisily as he held my weapon in place.

“I thought I cut that off. Where’d you get a replacement?” I asked coolly, trying to break through his grip with my strength alone, but Saul was strong too. “Couldn’t have been while you were hiding out in Greenland.”

He stood perfectly upright, shaking just a bit under the weight of my attack when he answered. “So you’ve been tracking me since we last spoke.” And he began squeezing the blade so tightly I thought it would break. “You remember, don’t you? What you did to me then?”

“I remember what you did.” The bodies of innocent people strewn about the La Charte hotel lobby. The train passengers screaming as they were torn apart by phantoms. “I remember.”

I let go of my scythe, banishing it quickly before kicking him back and summoning it again in another whirl of flames that licked the curtains—but all I could see was him. Saul. I had to capture him. Jumping at him, I brought it down, only to have him dodge. The blade plunged into the floor. “How did you even find me?” I demanded, yanking it back out.

“I heard you were here and thought I’d stop by.”

“Heard? From who? Only . . .” My breath hitched. Only the Sect knew we were here.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

There was a whimsical note in his voice that made me think of Alice, but the sociopathic, dead Effigy in his line wouldn’t have been this calm in the heat of battle.

“Nick. Is that who I’m talking to? Is it?”

“I’m sure you can tell. Though, strangely,” Saul said, his voice a breath, “it doesn’t seem to matter much these days.”

The two personalities were constantly warring, battling for control over Nick’s body. I knew what it felt like. But I had no sympathy for Nick, no matter how human he tried to make himself appear. Neither was to be trusted. He just so much as said it himself.