Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(50)

Saul told me himself in Marrakesh that he wasn’t the one I needed to worry about. They were his backup. His soldiers. But at least one of them had tried to escape. Why?

“So, how long do you think it’ll be before the entire Sect collapses at our feet?” Dot tossed the pen into the air and caught it. “Shall we flip a coin?”

“Can someone just . . .” Hanging my head, I let out a haggard sigh. “Some freaks attacked us. They could do stuff. Weird stuff. And now Saul has a ring and he’s attacking people again. That’s what I care about. I just want to know what the hell we’re supposed to be doing here.”

The door burst open. Cheryl scurried into the room. “I’m sorry, Director,” she said hurriedly, too flustered to hide her Cockney accent like she usually did. With a hand, she pushed up her glasses. “I would have warned you, but I didn’t even know he’d be here—”

“That’s quite fine, thanks. You can go.”

A young man brushed by her, knocking her shoulder as he passed. His self-importance seemed to expand with his puffed-out chest, though his slender—well, scrawny—body didn’t inspire much awe.

His dirty-blond hair appeared to have been slicked back with antifrizz styling gel, keeping the wave of his combed-back bangs in exactly the angle and the direction he’d calculated. His prim dark suit and blue tie gave him the model student look, his silver-rimmed glasses perfectly perched on the ridge of his nose. He was at least attempting to project an air of confidence as he surveyed the room. Maybe it was confidence to him, though the smug lift in his chin as he straightened his tie screamed false bravado.

“Oh god.” Rhys shook his head. “You’re kidding me. Dad sent you? Is this a joke?”

The young man spared Rhys a quick glance but looked entirely unfazed when he responded with, “Oh good, Aidan, you’re here too. It’s been a while. Nice to see you.”

Rhys didn’t respond. They shared the same American accent, but the uptightness in the young man’s voice made all the difference between them, as if he regulated his tone as staunchly as he did his appearance.

Chae Rin leaned sideways from the table. “Rhys, you know this guy?”

The young man straightened his back as he took his cue. “Assistant Director—”

“Brendan Prince.” Sibyl kicked the broken pieces of controller away from her with a swift sweep of her shoe. “Formerly of the Munich facility. And the oldest son of the director of the North American Division.”

Rhys squirmed, embarrassed as I stared at him with arched eyebrows.

“Rhys’s brother?” Lake glanced from one to the other. “I guess . . . Yeah, I can see it. Oh, this might be fun.”

Well, I didn’t know about fun, but I could see the resemblance too. Brendan looked more like his father than Rhys did, but the straight nose, the high, handsome cheekbones—they were the same. But as Brendan preened in his well-cut suit, Rhys slouched in his baseball jacket, curling his fingers against his old jeans. Something told me their similarities ended with genetics.

“Prince.” Chae Rin snorted and added under her breath, “Definitely acts like one.”

“So, you’re the one the Council called in. Interesting.” If Sibyl was trying to mask the disdain in her voice and stay neutral, she failed. Her lips had already quirked into an amused grin as she took in the sight of him. “Prince’s very ambitious son. And he criticized Blackwell for having a family position. Looks like he couldn’t wait to put in a good word to upgrade his own son’s career.”

“Why not? He ‘put in a good word’ to give you your job,” he said. “Or so I hear.”

“But I didn’t steal anyone’s position,” Sibyl retorted. “That’s the difference between you and me, Brendan. I don’t go behind people’s backs.”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying.” Brendan straightened his blazer. “My father may have recommended me, but it was the Council that brought me here because of the poor job you’ve done in handling things.”

“Poor job,” Sibyl spat, but Brendan had already passed by her.

“You’ve seen the news. You were instrumental in capturing Saul, but since then you’ve not only let him escape but botched the mission that led to his retrieval of the very weapon he used to slaughter innocents in the first place. It’s only natural that the Council has lost faith in you.” The pause he left after his last word was a dagger pointed at Sibyl. He gave her a meaningful look before stopping behind Pete, leaning over his shoulder as he looked up at the monitor. “This is the information you’ve received from the Marrakesh facility, right?”

He must have been leaning a little too closely to Pete, because the lab assistant scooted out of the way. “Uh, yeah. These are the autopsy reports, but, uh . . .” He turned to Dot for help, but she just shrugged.

“So what does the Council plan on doing with you here?” Sibyl folded her arms over her chest. “Are you here to investigate me?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I mean, you will be investigated—that goes without saying—but not by me. I’ve brought my own people for that.”

Sibyl’s eyes darkened by the second. “I’ve already submitted myself to the internal review.”