“How do you define power? It’s a simple question, but most people answer it incorrectly. They think it means telling others what to do. Control over someone’s actions isn’t enough. You need to make sure everyone knows what you’re capable of. My rivals on the Blazewrath field are well aware of my talent. But I don’t speak to them. All I do is show up, and they cower before me. Power is nothing more than a promise. Don’t cross me, and I won’t hurt you.”
—Transcript from 2015 paparazzo footage of Antonio Deluca exiting a nightclub in Milan, four months before Hikaru’s murder and Deluca’s disappearance
WE’RE ALL HUDDLED CLOSE IN THE LOCKER ROOM, ABOUT TO head to the showers, when Joaquín shuts the door behind us and says, “Tell us everything that happened when Esperanza Faded.”
He’s speaking to Victoria. Like me, her smile flickers on and off”, available only when someone is paying attention. But unlike me, she’s shivering.
“V? You okay?” Luis asks.
“I think my suit’s broken. It stopped cooling me right after I got back.”
No one speaks, but we’re all in the same “What the hell is going on?” boat. Even Manny looks like he’s been slapped. He’s stationed close to the wall, far away from the team. I can’t blame him. As if the thought of watching a city get scorched down tonight isn’t terrible enough, now we have to deal with whatever’s happening to our dragons’ magic, too.
“What do you think is making your suit malfunction?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but that Fade was intense.” Victoria sits on a bench, hugging herself. “Whenever I’ve been Transported, there’s been a crack of white light. This time, there was just black sand for miles and miles. There were small puddles here and there but no ocean. It was like a half-formed beach at the end of the world.”
What. The. Hell. Could the dragons be getting stronger? Or at least Esperanza? She’s the only one capable of Fading with her rider mounted on her back. Then there’s Victoria’s suit. Can Esperanza’s magic mess up other spells? Or did something else make the suit go haywire? The timing of Esperanza’s reveal kills me more than anything. Why not wait until we were back at the Compound house? This isn’t our secret anymore.
“Once you were inside this half-formed beach,” Joaquín says, “what did Esperanza do?”
“She kept flying across the sand. It was like she knew the way all along. She never acted surprised by what happened. Then we were back here.”
“And there was no white light?”
“No white light.”
I pipe in. “Do you think this … dark island place … is real? Like, an actual place on a map that she took you to. Or do you think her magic created it?”
“This.” Joaquín points at me. “I have my theories, but I want to hear you first, Victoria.”
“I don’t think it’s real,” she says. “I think Esperanza created it like an Other Place.”
“But dragons aren’t known to create Other Places,” Gabriela says. “It’s never been recorded in history, has it?”
Edwin shakes his head. “Nunca.”
He’s right. This is unprecedented.
“Maybe dragons have done it before,” Génesis says. “It’s just not in the history books.”
Héctor exhales long and hard. “Something tells me this really is the first time.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Call it a gut feeling. Besides, Esperanza didn’t wait to be alone with us to do it. She waited until the cameras were on her.” Héctor nudges Victoria softly. “I think she wanted everyone to know how strong you both are.”
But wouldn’t that piss off the Sire?
I turn to Joaquín. “Did the Sire order the dragons to Fade during the match?”
“The people in this room are the only ones who know about the Fade, Lana,” he says. “Esperanza acted out of her own free will.”
The room is quiet save for our breathing. I watch my teammates revel in Joaquín’s words, sharing the same shy smiles, as if they’ve achieved a secret victory. I’m the only one drifting closer to the wall. What if Esperanza’s choice to flaunt her Bond with Victoria leads the Sire to punish us despite the fact that we won the match? Would his anger prove he really is after the Bond’s rupture? Or would it simply teach us not to do anything he hasn’t ordered us to do?
“What is it, Lana?” Manny says. “You look like your brain is melting.”
“I’m just wondering what happens next. Do you think the Sire will retaliate against Esperanza for using magic he didn’t know about?”
“Not if we all pretend we didn’t know about it, either,” Joaquín says. “And we won’t publicly call it a Fade. There will be no mention of the Dark Island. Esperanza Transported. Period.” He backs up from the bench, making his way to the door. “Hit the showers and meet me outside when you’re done. The conference room must be filling up with ravenous reporters.”
Manny says, “You heard the man. Clean up. You all smell terrible.”
So we shower. Afterward, we get dressed again, this time in our team tracksuits, then parade out into the conference hall, where dozens of reporters and photographers salivate over our arrival. We sit onstage, say hello into the microphones, and smile our best smiles.
“Victoria, what can you tell us about your dragon’s newly revealed magical talent?”
“Victoria, did you plan that move with Esperanza beforehand? Or was that spontaneous?”
“Victoria, walk us through the moment your dragon vanished from the field.”
“Victoria, why is Esperanza the only one who can perform this kind of magic?”
I tune most of her answers out, but I hear her confirm that Esperanza Transported. After the press conference, we get our picture taken with the Puerto Rican flag in the backdrop. We’re filmed staring up at the scoreboard in the stadium lobby, which proclaims us the second winners of the Round of Sixteen. When we’re finally whisked back to the Compound, I sink into a nap.
This is the only time I’m allowing myself some rest tonight.
I have to stay awake for the news.
I have to see which city burns.
ANDREW’S LEFT ME SEVEN MESSAGES IN MY BLAZEREEL LIVE APP INBOX. That was after he tried to Live Video Call me.
The app’s notification alert must’ve been going off while I napped. I go through his messages. They’re all some variation of “Your dragons can Transport? Call me ASAP!”
My shoulders drop. Why did he have to contact me? Talking about Esperanza’s Fade means keeping secrets again. But if I don’t call, he’ll know something’s up. He’s even forgotten all about his pride and called me, so this is probably something he won’t let go. Hopefully, I’ll be convincing enough to kill his curiosity.
I hit the Live Video Call icon under Andrew’s avatar. A yellow circle pulses around it.
He picks up on the second ring.
“And here I was starting to think you’d run off to join the Rockettes.” Andrew’s face fills up the whole screen. He squints at the camera as he leans in closer. “Did I just wake you up? How can you even sleep at a time like this?” Andrew shakes his head in slo-mo. “Unbelievable.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you done? ’Cause I can hang up if you want.”
“Hanging up is punishable in a court of law.” Andrew backs away from the camera. He’s ruffling his hair with both hands. “How long have you known about Esperanza’s power? Can the other dragons Transport, too?” He says it all in one breath, his eyes wide and expectant.
I look at the wall across my room. “Esperanza showed us she could Transport during the match. She’s the only one who can do it.”
“For now,” Andrew says. “The other dragons didn’t seem surprised. That means this kind of magic is part of their evolution. Maybe they can’t all perform it right now, but they’ll be able to soon. They must feel their magic changing.”
“Mm-hmm.” I stretch my back, even though I don’t need to. “Maybe.”
“Which means they could potentially cast other spells down the line.” Andrew chews on his bottom lip, lost in his thoughts. “Walk me through Esperanza’s Transport step-by-step. How did it happen exactly? I’m trying to see if something provoked it.”
“Nothing provoked it.” I don’t want to talk about the Fade anymore, though hanging up would be such a bad look, and I can’t have him hounding my teammates for information or snooping around on his own. “Tell me about yourself. How’ve you been since your protest?”
Andrew’s face falls. He’s the one looking away now. “Mum reached out,” he whispers.
“What did she say?”
“Doesn’t matter. She’s overreacting. But I guess all good mums are like that.”
A Warheads candy ball is nowhere near as sour as he sounds. Maybe his mom gave him the best advice in the universe, but from the way Andrew looks like he’s been shot through the heart, I’m guessing Ms. Galloway must’ve told him something he didn’t want to hear.
I slouch, rubbing my face in exhaustion. I can’t freaking believe I have to open up about my own mother to see if it’ll make him open up about his. I’m already cringing, and I haven’t even spoken a word about Mom yet. “You’re lucky. My mother would never have called me. She doesn’t care about my safety. Not anymore.”
Andrew’s so close to the camera again. “What do you mean?”
I take a long, deep breath. It does nothing to soothe me. “She signed my contract and said that was all the support I was getting from her. Mom’s hated dragons since I was five years old.”
“Because of the Pesadelo? Or did she hate them before the attack?”
I gape at him. “Wow. I didn’t know you’d been Googling me.”
“News channels have been going wild with facts about you. Not my fault you’re everywhere.” Andrew’s smile is tight. “Tell me about it, though. How it went down.”
“You already read everything that went down.”
“Tell me anyway,” he says with a soft, considerate tone. He urges me on with a nod.
Everything comes rushing back as if a dam has been blown apart in my brain. Reliving it all out loud makes me squirm and scratch the back of my head, even though it doesn’t itch. Mom doesn’t deserve to be spoken of like this. But from the way Andrew stares at me like he’s on the verge of jumping through the screen and tackle-hugging me, I know my distraction is working.
“And then Violet #43 tried to kill me after I invaded her habitat.”
I explain how Violet #43 had been asleep when I broke into her home. How the guards assigned to watch her had been playing cards in a broom closet. Papi and Mom had been busy with something on his computer. They didn’t notice me slipping out of his office. I’d wanted to memorize her huge violet wings; her long, thin snout; her tar-black claws. I wasn’t counting on waking her up. I remember the flames darting around me in a storm of heat and certain death. In my panic, I’d headed deeper into the habitat instead of bolting for the door. My short legs helped me soar past trees while the Pesadelo hunted me down. Her roars almost tore the building apart. Papi barged into the habitat along with six other staff members.
The way my mother screamed that night … I had no idea anyone could scream like that.
A tear slips down my cheek, then another. Damn it. I wipe them off, lowering my head before more tears tumble out of me. First, Marisol catches me off guard and coaxes me into talking about stuff, and now this crap happens. My team just won a historic match, and this is how I’m celebrating? Come on, girl. Get it together.
“Don’t do that,” Andrew says.
“Yeah, I know. I’ll stop crying in a minute.”
“No, no, no. You should cry. I mean don’t force yourself not to cry. Let it all out.” Andrew shrugs. “I can’t assume to know your mum’s thought process, but I think she still loves you regardless of how she treated you after Waxbyrne. Do I think she’s in the wrong? Of course, but the thing about people is they tend to love us their way, not the way we’d want them to love us. We can tell them loads of times. We can draw them a bloody map. Sometimes their way is the only way that makes sense to them. Our voices are just white noise.”
“Then I’m tired of being white noise.”
“So am I …” Andrew’s voice drops along with his shoulders. He perks up again in a flash, showing off a toothy smile. “Wait. Did we just talk without wanting to kill each other?”
I’m laughing way louder than I should. “Miracles do happen.” An even bigger miracle would be for Andrew to redirect his energy into stopping the Sire the same way I’m trying to. Not only could I use more help in finding out the Sire’s real plan, I can also keep Andrew from carving a bigger bull’s-eye on his chest by openly protesting again. And if he’s even more focused on stopping the Sire, he’ll have less brain space for the Fade. “You know how you offered me the chance to protest with you? Now it’s my turn to offer you something.”
“What is it?”
“I might have a lead on how to stop the Sire without protesting the Cup. Think of it as a behind-the-scenes mission. Nobody can know about it.” I offer him a half smile. “Are you in?”
He considers me for a moment. “Will it actually work?”
“Maybe. I’m still figuring out the details, but it looks like I’m onto something.”
Andrew nods. “Okay. I’m in.”
There it is. Our second truce. Hopefully, this one lasts way longer. I’m not sure if this qualifies us for official friendship status. Today, Andrew is someone who’s helping me remember how good life can be even when you feel powerless.
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell him. “See you soon, Andrew. And thank you.”
“You’re most welcome.” Andrew smirks as he ends our first Live Video Call.
I fall onto the bed like a snow angel, relishing my victories on and off the field, wondering whether I’ll get to have another decent day like this ever again.
AT 8:00 P.M., THE DRAGONS START THEIR SONG AGAIN.
It’s in a more stable pitch now. There are less screechy wails and more streamlined notes delivered with grace. It’s pleasant yet still weepy.
“Aww, man.” I touch my chest, right where my heart is. “This is the worst.”
The longer the dragons sing, the more I crave to console them. Besides, what if their song sounds better because they’re leveling up? Esperanza created something close to an Other Place after their first time singing. Tonight’s song could mean something bigger is coming.
I put on my Adidas slides and head for the elevator. My teammates should either be at the habitat already or on their way. Hopefully, the dragons will now be capable of spilling the beans.
The elevator doors open.
Manny and the whole team barge into the corridor, right behind Headmaster Sykes. He’s in his pajamas, covered in a navy blue silk robe that looks like water when he moves. His blue velvet slippers glide across the corridor until he’s standing before me.
“Good evening. Forgive my intrusion at this hour,” he says breathlessly. There are dry tear tracks on his flushed cheeks. “My husband is demanding your presence at our estate, Ms. Torres. He needs to discuss an important matter with you at once. If you could please follow me, we’ll Transport to London together. I promise to have you back home in no time.”
Whoa. Never saw that one coming. “The president needs me in London?”
“At once, yes.”
“Why won’t you tell me what this is about, Corwin?” Manny asks him.
“Because it’s a private matter between Russell and Ms. Torres.” Headmaster Sykes is on the brink of tears, sniffling and blinking rapidly. “And it needs to be addressed this instant.”
Joaquín says, “Why does it have to be at his home?”
“Exactly,” Génesis chimes in. “Why can’t the president come here instead?”
Headmaster Sykes keeps his desperate gaze on me. “He’s currently indisposed. However, he needs to speak with Ms. Torres right now, and I’m not returning home without her.”
He’s been crying. He’s come to fetch me in his pajamas. And his hair looks like it hasn’t been brushed in weeks. Manny’s grim expression confirms something is wrong. The last time he visited the president, he’d witnessed the Sire hurt him through his Anchor Curse. What if what happened in London then is happening again?
What if the Sire is actually in London this time?
“Okay. Take me to him,” I tell Headmaster Sykes. Meeting the Sire could be a good thing. I can squeeze information out of him. I just have to be slick about it.
“I’m going with you,” Manny says.
“No.” Headmaster Sykes puts a hand on his shoulder. “You stay here with your team, Manuel. I will bring her back soon. Just wait for us, all right?”
Manny is about to pop a blood vessel, but he gives him a quick nod.
I peek at him again after getting into the elevator. As the doors close, Manny slips a hand into his jeans’ pocket, which is where he keeps his phone.
HEADMASTER SYKES WAITS UNTIL WE’RE DEEP IN THE COMPOUND outskirts to Transport.
When the white light vanishes, I’m in the middle of a cozy living room. An explosion of gleaming wood furniture hits me. Bookcases, end tables, cabinets, TV, and DVD units have all been carved out of mahogany. There’s a half-empty glass of wine and Harleen Khurana’s A History of Blazewrath Around the World on the sofa, but not a trace of President Turner.
“Right this way. He’s in the library.” Headmaster Sykes gently places a hand on my back, then steers me to the narrow corridor on the left. He’s shaking. His breathing is slowing down. I don’t make a sound as I move forward. Butterflies fling themselves inside me at breakneck speed; they’re even stronger than a Silencing Charm. I might be dying to know what’s going on, but this is the Sire. I’m headed straight toward a murderer. That’s never going to be in my Top Ten Things I Want to Do Before I Die. It’s more like the number-one way to actually die.
I stop dead in my tracks.
Five Dragon Knights stand by the walls.
Three men. Two women. The men and one of the women have Silver wands out. That would mean only one is a Regular, though, and most Dragon Knights are Regulars. Why has the Sire brought more magical bodyguards this time? Is Randall taking a personal day?
“Library’s just a little farther ahead,” Headmaster Sykes says as he pushes me ever so slightly. I’m only moving because he’s moving me. For a split second, I wonder if he’s tricking me at the Sire’s request. Is he putting up a desperate front so that I feel bad and comply with whatever he says? Then I remember how lovingly he’d treated President Turner back at his Other Place. How he’s been trying to help him access the Sire’s thoughts. He’s just as trapped in this dark web as I am, so why would he play mind games with me?
None of the Dragon Knights try to hurt us. I ball my fists as I walk past them, anyway. Headmaster Sykes takes me to the first door on the right, which is wide open. There’s even more mahogany in the shape of bookshelves, wrapping around the entire room.
Takeshi Endo stands near one of the high windows, leaning back into the drawn curtains like he owns the place and boring holes into my skin with his intense gaze.
The boy named Randall is sitting on the very edge of a desk. He’s sucking on a peppermint lollipop and reading the first pages of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander.
President Turner sits behind the desk. He’s also in his black pajamas and a moss-green robe. His eyes are no longer their natural blue. They’re icy silver, mimicking the Sire’s scales.
He’s pressing the tip of Takeshi’s claw dagger to his neck.
“Lana Torres,” the Sire’s voice comes out of the president’s mouth. “We meet at last.”
My insides turn to dust. President Turner’s body has been hijacked. Wherever the Sire’s hiding, he’s too cowardly to be here in the flesh.
“Thank you for being here.” The Sire flashes me a smile on a face that doesn’t belong to him. He props the president’s feet up on the desk. “You have already met Takeshi, but let me introduce Randall. Say hello to our special guest, Randall.”
Randall takes the lollipop out of his mouth as he acknowledges me. A burst of peppermint wafts across the room. I wince. Now I’ll never be able to smell peppermint again and picture anything but his stupid face. “Hi, Lana. Welcome to Chateau Turner.” He kicks his dangling leg back and forth, back and forth.
“Why am I here?” I ask the Sire.
“Straight to the heart of the matter! Good.” He sinks the tip of the dagger into the president’s neck, just a few inches above his collarbone, but not enough to prick blood.
Headmaster Sykes squeezes my shoulder. He’s cringing as he watches his husband’s body suffer even the slightest of injuries at the Sire’s hand.
I put a hand on top of his. The headmaster’s grip relaxes, but he’s still holding me tight.
“Tomorrow morning, you will hold a press conference outside of the Blazewrath stadium,” the Sire says. “You will read a speech I have written for you, in which you will extend your support to the International Blazewrath Federation. You will ask the world to do the same.”
He says it with a straight face, too, confident in his cruelty.
But I refuse to bend so easily.
“You’ve been so vocal about canceling the Cup, yet you’re also the one who’s keeping it going. Why is that?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Don’t you have more important things to worry about than choosing who wins the Cup?” I let out a dramatic gasp. “Are you living a double life as a bookie?”
“Keep it up.” The Sire pushes the dagger deeper into President Turner’s neck. He’s a breath away from drawing blood. “People could get hurt.”
I gulp down. “Please leave him alone. I didn’t mean to—”
“Did you hear my instructions?”
Taunting him won’t work. He’ll murder the president before he hints at what he’s really after. “Loud and clear. But why does it have to be me?”
“I need someone to counter Andrew Galloway’s protest. Tomorrow you will stand with my enemies and denounce what Andrew did during the opening ceremonies. You will serve as both his political foil and the world’s distraction.” The Sire glances at Takeshi like a proud parent. “Consider this the alternative to killing you for standing in Takeshi’s way back at the wand shop. You can thank him for the suggestion.”
Takeshi bows his head to me. “You’re welcome.”
Clenching my fists has never hurt this much. Neither has standing in place when I wish desperately to charge the Sire and punch his lights out. But that’s not him. It’s President Turner. Saying no means watching President Turner die. I can’t risk his life so carelessly, much less when his husband is almost in pieces next to me.
“Do you agree to my terms, Lana?” the Sire says.
My mouth tastes like rotten fruit. “Yes … I’ll do it …”
“Excellent. Your speech will be ready in a few minutes.” The Sire rises from his chair. He lowers the dagger at last, leaving it on the desk. He’s walking over to one of the bookshelves.
Randall goes back to reading Outlander.
Takeshi won’t quit staring at me. I can’t read him. He’s a book that was written with broken quills in the dark. I don’t care if he convinced the Sire to keep me alive. He’s still trash.
“Andrew thinks you’re a good person,” I choke out. “That you’re a hero.”
There’s a cold indifference in his once-beautiful eyes. “Do I look like a hero to you?”
BANG!
The library door flies across the room, along with one of the male Dragon Knights.
Headmaster Sykes pulls me to the floor. He shields me from the storm of magic spells flying all over the place, destroying everything they touch. Blown-up bits of book covers and pages are scattered everywhere. “Stay down!” the headmaster yells.
I cover my head but risk a peek at the library’s entrance.
Agent Horowitz is shooting a spell at one of the female Dragon Knights while also kicking a male Dragon Knight square in the jaw. He tumbles into a pile on the floor. Agent Horowitz blocks spell after spell. She punches the female Dragon Knight in the gut and slams her knee into the chick’s head when she doubles over.
She’s out cold immediately.
“Boys, get yourselves out of here at once!” I hear the Sire’s plea, followed by a sudden thud on the floor. President Turner is unconscious a few feet away from me.
“Russell!” Headmaster Sykes tries to get up, but I pull him back down.
Randall and Takeshi abandon their respective corners. Takeshi grabs the claw dagger. Randall takes out his Gold wand. They both stand side by side, even though Randall keeps a little distance. Takeshi reaches for one of the golden orbs attached to his belt.
“Drop your weapons, gentlemen. That’s not a request,” Agent Horowitz says, but she’s aiming her wand at Randall. I get it. He’s a Gold Wand, but Takeshi’s still a legit threat.
“Randall, let’s go,” Takeshi says shakily. If I knew him better, I’d say he’s scared.
Randall stays where he is. “Not. Quite. Yet.”
Director Sandhar charges inside with ragged breaths. “Do what she says.” His voice is shaky, but it doesn’t sound like he’s nervous. More like his rage is eating all of his patience.
He’s pointing his wand at Randall, too.
“Hi, Dad!” a peppy Randall says. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”
“Don’t speak to me. Both of you, drop your weapons now!”
“Haven’t you missed me? Not even a little bit? After everything we’ve been through?”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Director Sandhar fires a spell at him.
SWISH!
Randall Transports himself and Takeshi out of the house.
Director Sandhar’s spell hits a section of the opposite wall, blasting it into pieces.
I let go of Headmaster Sykes. Tearful and deathly pale, he rushes to his husband’s side, while I crumple into nothing where I lie. President Turner was held hostage in his own body.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll be the next hostage.
The Sire might not be able to hijack me, but as soon as the sun rises in Dubai, he’ll be secretly pulling my strings yet again.