Devon seeking guidance, p.10
Devon Seeking Guidance, page 10
He could do other things instead.
He could reverse the flow of blood to the man’s heart. It was excruciating, but decisive. Untraceable. Medical science had yet to find a way to explain it. They would conclude it was a heart attack. The coroner would say the same thing.
“Gabriel, please.” Tony’s pulse quickened, as if the assassin had spoken out loud. “That girl you were with—” He caught himself quickly, lifting a hand to his chest. “I have one, too. Bianca. There, I just told you her name. She’s out with friends, and we’re meeting for dinner. We’re staying at the Dorchester. I’m...” He caught his breath, fingers trembling at his sides. “I’m putting all my cards on the table here, man. I did not come here for you.”
Gabriel nodded quickly, clearing his expression.
I can’t take that chance.
“Yeah, of course,” he said quietly.
Tony sucked in a tight breath, doubling down. “We’ve been together six years. Her mother hates me. We have a dog.” He pulled out his phone, flashing a picture. “I know this doesn’t work on you. I’ve seen this not work on you. But I’m doing it anyway. There—that’s us. You see her face—that’s Bianca. She likes to play Nintendo.”
Gabriel’s eyes flew across the pavement, resting on the tiny screen.
The seconds ticked past, one after another.
Then his shoulders dropped with a sigh.
“Come here.”
Tony paled even further, angled to run. “Alden—”
“Come here,” Gabriel repeated with a touch of impatience. He pulled out his phone, dialing the top number. “I let you walk out of here, and you never come back to London again. Never, Tony.” His eyes flew up, freezing the man in place. “Are we clear on that?”
The man nodded so fast, he was trembling. “We’re clear. I swear it—we’re clear.”
That’s not good enough.
“That’s not good enough,” Gabriel muttered, tapping his finger restlessly as the call opened in his screen. “But I know something that is.”
It took a second to focus, then a dark-haired man sharpened into view.
“Hey, Jules.”
The psychic held the camera close to his face, cupping around it to hide the background from sight. “Why are you calling? Can we not make this a videocall?”
Rude.
Gabriel listened for a split second, then leaned closer with a frown. “Are you at the racetrack?”
There was a pause.
“What do you need, Alden?”
“I want you to meet an old friend.” He glanced up at Tony, pulling him into the frame. “You see him? Take a good look. This is Anthony Harrison.”
Julian stared blankly at the camera, while the guy lifted his hand in an awkward wave.
“It’s a pleasure,” the psychic finally replied.
“Thanks, Jules.” Gabriel hung up the phone without another word, turning back to the trembling courier at his side. “That’s the world’s greatest psychic, and he just memorized your face. If you do something I don’t like, he will tell me. If you even think about doing something I won’t like, he will tell me. That’s if he doesn’t decide to save a step and shoot you himself.” He leaned suddenly closer, taking the man’s arm. “But I hope he wouldn’t, Tony. I’d want to do it myself.”
There was a ringing pause.
“Are we clear?”
The man tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry. “We’re clear.”
There was a beat of awkward silence, then Tony backed away swiftly—pacing across the courtyard exactly the way he’d come. He moved at a clipped pace, like there was a loaded weapon pointed behind him. But he’d only taken a few steps, when he came to a sudden pause.
“I can’t believe that worked on you.” He glanced over his shoulder with the hint of a smile. “My life. I mean—it’s really my life,” he clarified quickly. “I just...can’t believe that worked.”
Gabriel let out a quiet sigh. “You had me at Nintendo.”
Chapter 8
“—thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me, but it was actually one of those paintings that twists its head to follow you around the room—”
Devon and Lily were speeding past the London morning traffic using a clever combination of clairvoyance and the reflexes of an over-caffeinated god. They had spent the beginning of the drive in a heated debate on eastern European literature, but things had devolved into a one-sided monologue as they neared the arts district. The kind of monologue that betrayed the pensive young psychic, and reminded the world she was just a few years past a teenager. The kind of monologue that washed over her uncle in unending waves, and would have done her Aunt Molly proud.
There must be something in the water. None of the women here need to breathe.
“—so the entire day was picking up this unexpected theme,” the girl continued obliviously, trailing her fingers through sheets of ivory hair, “and I wouldn’t have even known about the local corvid population, if it hadn’t been for Jamie—”
Devon stared mindlessly out the window, making occasional adjustments to the wheel as the city blurred past. They were leaving the commercialized districts behind and coming up to the part of the city that was reserved for royalty and tourists. His entire life, he’d lived within an hour of London or in the city proper. He’d never spent so much time in those exclusive quarters until now.
Better get used to it. James said that Lily’s started keeping a toothbrush at the palace.
His brow furrowed with absentminded confusion.
That’s an odd thing to notice. I wonder why he said that.
“—kind of disgusting, really. But the important thing to remember is that it wasn’t a real bird.” The psychic let out a deep breath, slouching against the leather. “Anyway, it’s exactly the kind of thing that’s best discussed over a long flight in a cargo plane, but I haven’t even been able to do that. My parents have been working, and Jase has been so busy lately—taking care of Aria. This is the first time in a whole week that I’ve been able to see Henry. And he lives twenty minutes away.”
Devon nodded along as he made a turn towards Buckingham, trying to look appropriately morose. It wasn’t for another second that his ears perked up to a particular turn of phrase.
“Wait, hang on...what do you mean about Aria?” he asked suddenly. “Why does she need someone taking care of her? And why the hell would that someone be Jason?”
A heavy silence fell over the car as it bumped along the road.
“Uncle Dev...you know they actually got married, right?”
He glanced over with a touch of concern. “That’s the strangest thing,” he murmured, “I could see your mouth was still moving, but I swear, there wasn’t any sound—”
“Arie doesn’t need anyone taking care of her,” Lily interrupted with an exasperated grin, “but she’s been stressed about work, so Jason thinks she does. And whenever he thinks she does, he suddenly disappears from our lives and I’m left picking up the pieces.”
Devon made another turn, flashing a sideways look at his niece.
“Disappears from your lives? Whenever I see him, he’s either training or home.”
I should have sent HIM to Monrovia.
His shoulders dropped.
Alright, even I see that was over the line.
“That’s how he does it!” Lily exclaimed. “He plays it safe, stays close to home. Tries to make it seem like he’s the one part of her life that doesn’t require any hassle. Of course, Arie sees through that in a second,” she added ruefully, “and she uses it to squeeze every glorious moment of field work that she can.” She rolled her eyes, kicking her feet on the dash. “I swear, she’s getting obsessed.”
“Feet on the floor,” Devon commanded, slapping them down again. “You’ve been spending too much time at the palace.” He cast her a sideways glance, measuring her expression. “So what do you mean, Arie’s getting obsessed?”
“I mean that she is,” Lily answered with a laugh, well-accustomed to his interrogations. “How are you not seeing it? Do you know the other day, she put her and Benji’s names in the running for a weapons grab in Monrovia? I mean, she’s known for overreaching. But that...?”
A weapons grab in Monrovia. You don’t say.
“I mean, they’re probably not going to get it,” she added conspiratorially before lifting her eyebrows in sudden realization. “Actually, I guess that’s up to you now, isn’t it?” She appraised him for a lengthy moment, then lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Huh, weird.”
A perfect summation of my presidency.
“The point is, whenever Jason wants to be supportive of Aria—who is arguably the most manipulative person in the world—I’m the one who gets left in the lurch. Dropped from the field rotation, off the mission schedules. It’s my career that’s on the chopping block.”
Devon glanced over in surprise, struck by the words she chose. “Well, honey, I’m sure they never meant to put you in that position. Fundamentally selfish as their relationship is,” he couldn’t help but add. “Sounds like you should talk to them about it.”
Sounds like they should just break up.
“I guess so,” Lily mused, running a tiny braid between her lips, “I just don’t want to be an extra thing they have to deal with right now. They’ve been really trying to get their footing as a married couple, and that’s always come really easy to Jason, but whenever emotions get involved, Arie’s like a frothing possum someone backed into a corner: she just can’t be reasoned with...”
She continued talking as a car rolled to a stop behind her. It was raised off the ground and packed to the brim with twenty-somethings, all of whom were drunkenly shouting, all of whom were still heading home from a night at the clubs. It only took them a few seconds to notice the lovely girl in the next car over. They rolled down a window, and a cloud of Jack Daniels wafted into the road.
“Hey there! Hey—over here! Roll down your window!”
Lily rolled hers up instead, continuing her thoughtful contemplation without pause.
“...they’re my friends, so I want to be supportive...”
“Did you see that face” the one guy shouted to his friends before turning back to Lily. “I think I’m in love with you!”
“...but she’s a Machiavellian crack-addict...”
“My friend’s in love with you!”
“...and Jase must be going stir-crazy...”
“Seriously, he’s in love with you! Get your fine arse out of the car and get over here—”
Devon leaned slowly forward, into their line of vision. The guys froze in perfect unison, then leaned just as slowly back. For a single moment, the world went still. Then Lily’s eyes flashed white.
She caught her uncle’s wrist, just as he reached for the glovebox. “The light’s green,” she said sweetly.
It wasn’t. They went through it anyway.
The rest of the drive happened without incident. In fact, it was vaguely reminiscent of a great many drives the pair had shared before. Like her father, Lily Decker unraveled her problems by talking things out. But she was plagued with her mother’s sense of restlessness. Since she was just a child, Devon used to drive her around the city for hours, listening more than talking, letting her eyes rove distractedly out the window until she found the answer she was looking for, or they grew tired enough to close. Some of the best memories he had were driving around in that very car.
“—but I guess that’s part of it, you know?” She flashed a sad smile, unbuckling her seatbelt as they finally rolled to a stop. “At some point, everybody has to grow up.”
Devon blinked to the present, astonished they’d already arrived at the gate. The palace loomed behind it, separated from the rest of the world by a long and heavily fortified drive.
Not so very different from Guilder.
They breezed through without a hitch, then came to a stop behind another gate—one that was accompanied with an unassuming trio of men with firearms strapped to their waists. The car’s plates were entered into a system, while two people in separate buildings muttered into earpieces.
There was a crackle of static, then a metal bar swung open and they were waved through.
Devon waved in return and took a side entrance, spotting a familiar row of sports cars and parking alongside. He killed the engine and sat for a moment before turning to his niece.
“What do you mean, everybody has to grow up?”
She glanced over in surprise, already dabbing on her lipstick. “I was just babbling, Uncle Dev. We don’t have to—”
“Everybody has to grow up?”
She stared back at him, then gave a little shrug—glancing at the looming pillars of the palace, before lowering her eyes to her knees. “Yeah, I guess. I mean...Aria, putting in her name for that big assignment? James, trying to get himself an official partner every minute he can. Even Jase and Benji—constantly levelling up. Everybody’s taking steps, you know? They’re all moving forward.” She glanced again at the palace, fingers twisting in her lap. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just stuck.”
Devon’s chest tightened as they sat there in silence.
How many times had he and Julian had the exact same conversation? How many times had the psychic said those exact words? It was a lonely gift, clairvoyance. A set of ink so powerful, it set people intrinsically apart. But for whatever reason, he didn’t think fantastical powers and doomsday missions were his niece’s problem. For whatever reason, he thought it was a little closer to home.
“Hey, listen to me.” He shifted around so they were angled towards each other, ignoring the impatient stares of the valets waiting beneath the eaves. “Just because you’re moving in two different directions, doesn’t mean you’re not moving forward,” he said quietly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “It just means you’ll be splitting your focus for a little while.” He leaned down to catch her eye. “And that’s not wrong, Lily. You are moving forward. No one here is making you choose.”
She stared up at him, those crenulated towers framed behind her. “...but what if that starts to change?”
He smiled without thinking, reaching to tuck an ivory curl behind her ear. “It’s your life, isn’t it? It’s always going to be your choice.”
She stared a moment longer, like she was giving him time to retract it, before flashing a tentative smile in return. “Yeah, I guess it is. Thanks, Uncle Dev.” She opened her mouth to say something more, then glanced in a mild panic at the clock. “We’d better get in there.”
She was out the door a second later, smoothing her clothes and sending off a quick text to say they’d arrived. Her uncle was slower to surrender his morning to those pristine halls. He sent off a text of his own before stepping out of the car, glancing down as something crumbled beneath his foot. A frown creased his brow as he reached to pick up a paper that had gotten lost on the floor.
He scanned the top line, and his face went still.
Official Request for Partnership:
James Alexander Wardell and Emma Hadley Knight
Like an unwelcome memory, his niece’s words drifted through his mind. Aria reaching for far-flung missions, James filing for partnership every chance he could. Everybody has to grow up sooner or later. His fingers twisted guiltily around the paper before he tossed it back with a sigh.
Just not too soon.
“ON GUARD!”
Devon flew across the ancient marble, swinging a tempered sword above his head with as much force as the laws of nature would allow. There was a stack of protective padding in the corner, but he wasn’t wearing it. There was a ring of security guards, but they’d been banished into the hall.
It was just him and the King of England.
Fighting for the crown.
“You know that nothing happens if you beat me, right?” Philip staggered backwards, pulling the words straight from the fox’s head. “You don’t automatically inherit the throne.”
Devon tilted his head to the side. “That can’t be right.”
There was a flash of silver, as the two crossed blades once again—parrying back and forth with shocking velocity, before the fox disarmed the king with a flick of his hand. There was a shout of surprise and the sword went clattering across the marble, echoing loudly on the tiles.
It was a place they’d yet to practice: a long hallway of sorts, with framed portraits hanging on one side, and a wall of windows on the other. Devon twirled his blade distractedly as his eyes drifted along the fringed edges, imagining a host of women in petticoats waltzing across the gilded floor.
“What did this place used to be?” he asked without thinking, glancing around for a boasting informational plaque. “Some kind of receiving chamber? A place to greet visiting kings?”
Philip retrieved his blade, tugging on the fingers of his gloves. “I think it’s just a corridor, mate.”
Devon flashed him a look. “On guard, Highness.”
There was a clash of metal as the pair came together—battling with a level of skill that was borderline disinteresting to the agent, while leaving the king gasping for breath. That’s good, Devon would shout occasionally, watch your balance. The blades flashed above their heads. He made a few good points, Devon always allowed him that. But it had been a particularly difficult week, and the fox wasn’t ready to end the match so quickly. He picked up the pace, forcing the man to retreat.
And retreat...and retreat some more.
“Alright, hang on!” Philip panted, yanking the mask off his head. Instead of using his sword, he lifted a defensive hand, the bitter thrill of adrenaline spiking his blood. “Didn’t we have some kind of arrangement? Didn’t we agree that you’d teach me—while continuing to let me win?”
Devon slashed the air between them, keeping his muscles warm. “We’re not racing cars. You can’t cheat so easily.” He gestured to the mask, impatient to begin. “Put your gear on.”
The king ignored him, feeling a strong pull of self-preservation. “I’m serious,” he repeated, sheathing the sword and reaching for a glass of water. “Aren’t you supposed to be moving slower than this? This feels like powers, Devon.”
