Siege of Shadows (Effigies #2)(84)

Which introduced another set of problems. There wasn’t a single moment I wasn’t surrounded by people: hotel staff begging for autographs, coordinators for the event explaining where we needed to go and when, and Lake’s agent—a slightly flabby, mousy British man with a black goatee to match the color of his suit and pants—running around yelling at everyone, trying to make sure Lake had the best press to cover up the fact that her single had been delayed again and her fans were starting online petitions.

“It’s not my fault!” Lake whined at her phone as we entered our hotel suite, not that there was anyone on the other end. She was glaring at the disgruntled comments from Swans because they’d just started a thread on the Doll Soldiers forum for the sole purpose of utterly dragging her to the ends of the Earth. “You wankers try to promote a single when you’re fighting monsters and terrorists at the same bloody time!”

Admittedly, she was probably just on edge because the four members of GBD, her old girl group, had already arrived at their hotel a few blocks away surrounded by a crowd of rabid fans. The videos were all over the internet.

I cast a wary glance at our hair and makeup team setting up shop in our hotel suite before pulling Lake into the empty bedroom. “He’s here, right? Uncle Nathan?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Room four thirty-two. And he’s Mr. Caldwell now.” Laughing, she called Belle over.

“And you got the drive?” I asked Belle after she shut the door.

Belle nodded, patting her jeans pocket.

“While we’re being skull and bones, take a look at this.” Lake slid off her brown knapsack and pulled out the cigar box we’d found under Belle’s floorboard.

I peeked around her shoulder to take a closer look. “You brought that here?”

“Yeah . . . well, you know, with everything happening, I’ve been a bit antsy about keeping stuff like that in the dorm.”

“Good to see you’ve come prepared,” I said, impressed.

“Bloody right, I’m prepared.” Lake pulled a pair of shades out of her bag and gave it to me, then plucked the ones from the top of her head and passed them to Belle. “Now, you two be careful once you leave this room. There are probably fans and reporters sneaking about.”

Belle and I nodded and started off.

“Oi, where are you lot going?” Lake’s agent lowered his phone and stopped yelling into it for long enough to see us leaving. “You’re supposed to be getting your makeup done—”

“Never you mind, Henry. They’ll be back. Just going for a short walk,” said Lake.

“Yes. Walk. I like walking. I want to go too.” Chae Rin rose out of her chair like a ghost, but the hairdresser pushed her back down again.

I shut the door behind me, the commotion muffled behind wood. Belle and I donned our shades as we entered the elevator. I had my hood up covering my hair, pulling the strings so it covered a good portion of my face. Belle was less obvious, letting her uncombed hair loose as if she looked somehow less glamorous and recognizable in a pair of jeans and a gray sweatshirt.

“This will be your first time seeing your uncle in a while, yes?” she said as she pressed the fourth-floor button. We’d have to go down from the twentieth.

“Yeah.”

It was the first time he would see me as Maia Finley, the fire Effigy. He’d learned about it on the news with everyone else because I couldn’t muster up enough courage to tell him before I was thrown into battle. I should have faced him. But I was a coward then.

And now.

I looked up at Belle, who leaned against the elevator wall, her arms folded as she waited.

“Maia.” Belle’s quizzical eyes narrowed as she noticed the slight trembling of my hands, even when I clasped them together and buried them behind my back. “What’s going on?”

A few days ago, when I was at the hospital, watching Rhys, I’d noticed certain sights that were now etched into my memory. Like the sliver of light escaping through the curtains kissing his face. The quiet innocence softening his features, as if sleep had mercifully taken from them all the guilt and grief. He’d rested as if he were finally at peace, the peace he’d begged Natalya to give him. Natalya, whom he’d betrayed.

Both mother and son.

“Naomi Prince, Rhys’s mother, is a member of the Council.”

At this, Belle’s eyebrows rose. “What?”

“Not only that, but she asked me to meet her alone in Madrid in four days, which was three days ago, so, like, tomorrow. At sundown. Natalya’s old apartment. I wasn’t sure if I should tell you guys because she asked me to come alone.”

Belle pulled off her shades, and I wished she hadn’t. She could never hide the vulnerability in her eyes when it came to her mentor. “Why there? What does she want to tell you?”

“The truth. About Natalya’s death.”

The elevator’s gears shifted in the walls behind us. A silent shadow passed over Belle’s face, though she made no change of expression. “Why would she know?”

My lips felt heavy as I parted them to speak, but before I could, the elevator door opened at the fourth floor. The bellboy looked impatient as he waited for us to scurry out. Dipping our heads low, we left.

“Room four thirty-two,” Belle said when we stopped at the door. The moment stretched out, long and painful, as she knocked. What was I going to say to my uncle? What could I—