Chapter 56
The shot takes out a chunk of my arm and spins me all the way around until I’m facing the strike team. They’re wearing plain clothes, but they’re packing 1911s. That .45 would have stopped me cold if it had been hollow point and a little to the left. How did the idiot shooter miss my body, or even better, my head? They’re wearing masks and gloves and they’re dressed in black gear, but that can’t disguise their frames. There are four of them, and I flog my fuzzy brain to process the data in front of my eyes.
The first is tall, even for an evian. He’s got to be close to seven feet. A small blond curl pokes out from under his black mask. The second is tall but not as tall, and he’s broad. I can’t see any hair, but the bump in the back of his masked head tells me his hair is long, probably pulled back in a ponytail. The third is a woman whose footwear I recognize. Valentino Rockstud Boots, customized for her. I already know the soles of the boots are crossed with spider webs.
Her real name is Rivera, but she’s goes by Recluse. Rivera hasn’t trusted anyone since her brother died in the field. Her anger needed an outlet, and she naturally gravitated toward the angriest person I know, my twin. I don’t recognize the fourth man, but if Rivera’s leading the team, Judica sent them. The tall one is Deitrich, the broad man is Lorn, and the fourth could be any of her other guards. Somehow, Judica found out I’m naming Edam as Consort. The odds may have shifted in my favor finally, but only if I survive this assassination attempt.
By the time I shove Noah to the ground, I’ve already healed from the ill-aimed shot.
“Stay down,” I say.
“Wait, did someone shoot you?” Noah tries to stand, but I kick his legs out from under him, slamming him face down onto the pavement. A broken nose is better than a hole in the head.
They fire three more shots, one slamming into my left leg, one whizzing past my head and one lodging in my left clavicle.
“Noah, stay down.” I dig the fingers of my right hand into the hole in my shoulder and yank on it until I dislodge the bullet. When I toss it into the river, I glance at Noah, who promptly rubs his eyes. I shouldn’t have yanked the bullet out like that, but it might have been an exploding round. Besides, I can’t heal with a bullet lodged in my bone.
“Did we stumble in to some kind of gang fight?” Noah tries to stand again.
I shove him down again. “Noah, stay down and close your eyes. Trust me.” Maybe we can take care of this fast and he’ll think he hallucinated it.
I look back at my four shooters, clustered together against a building for cover. Hiding together is their biggest mistake. They should be coming at me from several different locations. When I glance back, I realize why they’re huddling. Donovan and Renni have taken out two other assailants on the north side, but Renni is down too. A glance to the south shows Mathias and Simeon with a man face down on the pavement, but Simeon’s limping.
It’s good my guards are doing their job, but there’s no one to take out these four.
I crouch down next to Noah, who is finally listening to me and staying near the ground.
Rivera and her crew are picking their way toward me, operating under the assumption that I’m unarmed and help isn’t coming. FDR runs directly below us. I might be able to drop down and escape, but I don’t want to abandon Noah. He’d break his leg at the very least from a fall like that, but if I ditch him after they saw us kissing, they might use him as a hostage. I unclasp my necklace with nervous, fumbling fingers. I’ve practiced for this scenario, but never encountered it before today.
“Do you think they’re going to rob us?” Noah asks, eyeing my disassembly efforts.
“Hush, and close your eyes.”
“You know that ostriches are widely considered the dumbest animals?” Noah says. “Closing my eyes won’t keep us safe.” He starts casting around for rubble and grabs a handful of rocks.
Heaven help me.
I carefully remove several of the purple gemstones and activate each one. I set the faux purple gems on the ground, slide the straps off my necklace and hook them on the edges of the pendant. Now they’ve been activated, each bead will take out anything in a one-foot blast radius. “Flat on the ground, Noah.”
My first shot takes off Lorn’s left leg. Pink mist, bomb squads call it, and that’s just how it looks. The rounds are made to be almost entirely silent, but they deal maximum damage. It’s going to be tremendously painful to regrow that limb, and it’ll take days and days. Serves him right for attacking wherever Judica points, including his rightful Empress.
Rivera and Dietrich each break in opposite directions, but the fourth attacker heads straight for me. He gets one shot off, which grazes my side, before I explode his head. I didn’t want to kill him, but he got too close. I might have survived a few more rounds, but Noah can’t, and I won’t risk his life.
“Oh my gosh, what just happened?” Noah asks. “Is that guy dead?”
“No, this is a dream,” I say.
Noah rubs his eyes. Repeatedly.
I aim for Rivera next, but just before I release the shot, Noah grabs my arm. “Dream or not, look.”
I follow his finger to the movement behind Rivera. A little girl wearing a red backpack is walking behind her. There’s a sign on the faded brick building behind them that reads: Brearley School. The huddling makes even more sense. They had a plan all along. Who would attack them in front of a primary school?
If my blasts hadn’t been so quiet, the kids would probably be hiding. Why didn’t the gunshots in my direction scare them off? What is wrong with New Yorkers? While I hesitate, three more children round the corner. I can’t risk another blast.
A tiny flash above and to the left alerts me and I glance up, right at the crosshairs of a sniper trained on my head. I cannot catch a break. I hate that Frederick was right, but this run was a terrible idea. With my back up against the rail, my options have dwindled to one: the river. Frederick is going to kill me, but this is my best bet. I just need to decide whether to bring Noah along.
It’s a big drop over the rail, and Noah already looks freaked out. They haven’t aimed at him once. Hostage risk aside, he’s probably safer if I just disappear.
I stand up to leap over the rail, because if I’m on the move, they’ll probably stay on me. Dietrich fires off another shot while I deliberate. Noah jumps in front of me like a moron, and I yank us both backward into the river, Noah’s shoulder in one hand, my necklace in the other.
The frigid water slaps against my face, flooding my mouth with salt, and sending even more adrenaline into my bloodstream. I release Noah long enough to re-clasp my necklace. Then I spin him around.
“Were you hit?” I ask.
Noah should not have tried to save me. Clearly Noah is an idiot. I just hope he’s not about to be a dead idiot.
“I’m not sure they were firing real bullets.” Noah mouth trembles from the cold as he treads water next to me. “You seem fine, too. Is it possible we walked into someone filming a movie?”
I wonder when he’ll remember that I exploded someone’s leg and another man’s head. Maybe he didn’t notice.
“It wasn’t a movie, Noah. And if we don’t put some space between us and them, they’ll keep coming,” I say.
He bobs his head and starts swimming. I look over my shoulder repeatedly, but don’t see them. After I ignore his questions for a while, he stops asking them. Probably because he’s either exhausted, freezing to death, or both.
When we finally crawl out on the edge of some soccer field, parents and coaches rush over to check on us. I guess even in NYC, two teenagers climbing out of the East River is noteworthy. According to signs, we’re on Roosevelt Island.
“Whoa,” a lady holding a bright pink bag and wearing a green Adidas jacket says, “Did you two fall in? Are you okay? I’ll call 911.”
“No,” I say, “it’s fine. Our parents will ground us for life if they find out. Please don’t.”
She frowns. “We have to do something.”
Noah steps in. “It was a dare. You know how goofy high school kids can be. But don’t worry, we’ll head straight home.”
It takes him a few more minutes, but Noah calms the parents down admirably. By the time he’s done, he walks back toward me wearing one donated jacket and holding another in his hand. I slide it on with a grateful smile, even though it smells like Cheetos. At least it blocks the wind.
“Your name isn’t Rebecca, is it?”
I shake my head. “Chancery Alamecha.”
“And Laura isn’t actually your sister?”
Another shake.
“I should have realized that. You look nothing alike.”
“Why aren’t you freaking out right now?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re the one who got shot, but remarkably, unbelievably even, you seem fine. Maybe I should be the one asking the vaguely aggressive questions.”
“Fair enough.” I wanted to tell him before, and now I have an excuse. But we can’t stand around here in the open, waiting for Judica’s hit squad to catch up. I start walking toward the north end of the island and he follows, pelting me with questions.