Vespertine

The sun was bright on Quinn’s eyelids when she awoke.

For a moment, she had absolutely no idea where she was. And then she spotted Caiden, rolled up in the sheets on the other bed, and remembered that they were in downtown Aski, in a hastily booked hotel room after their escape last night.

Her single bag of possessions, put together when they had stopped by her house last night, lay next to her bed. She checked the time; it was just before 8:00. She slipped out of bed and padded quietly to the bathroom, where she brushed her teeth and washed her face before confronting her reflection, both hands planted on the porcelain counter.

Her brown, almond-shaped eyes, so much like Salvatore’s, stared back at her. Her hair left something to be desired in its current disastrous state, as did her stressed out, bruised skin. But her eyes looked the same as they always did.

The eyes of someone who was not what she had spent her whole life believing she was. Quinn yanked her hands away from the counter suddenly, afraid that she might accidentally cause it to blow up. Her heart was pounding rapidly.

She jumped again as Caiden walked into the bathroom, yawning. He blinked at her, unfazed. “You’re up.”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Caiden said.

“Right,” Quinn replied, cheeks reddening as she stepped out.

She decided to make herself a cup of coffee as she sat at the desk, wondering what she was supposed to do next. She sipped at her coffee as she heard the shower running— a couple minutes later, Caiden emerged from the bathroom, still dressed in his previous clothes, but with a towel around his neck and damp hair. He looked more awake, but his eyes zeroed in on the coffee machine.

“I didn’t think you were a coffee kind of person,” Quinn commented as he poured himself a cup and drank it straight, without milk or sugar.

“You thought wrong,” he responded, seemingly satisfied after draining the mug. “Besides, what does a coffee person even look like?”

Quinn shrugged. “Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. What are we gonna do now?”

Caiden considered this for a second, sitting down in the chair across from her. “We’re practically fugitives, so I guess our first order of business is to blend in. We can figure out your whole change-the-world plan later.”

Quinn rolled her eyes at the latter part. “Fine. What do you suggest?”

“We’re gonna need scarves.”

She scowled. “Only sorcerers wear scarves.”

“Exactly,” he agreed. “Which we both are. And it makes us that much more conspicuous if we look like two mortals in a more sorcerer-rich part of town. Besides, wherever we go next, at least we won’t have trouble from other sorcerers.”

“But scarves are expensive. I don’t have that much money,” Quinn complained. “I don’t see how this is practical.”

Caiden stood up, tousling his hair with the towel one last time before tossing it onto his bed. “I think I have an idea.” He crossed the room to the nightstand beside his bed and pulled open a drawer, taking out his phone. He looked through his contacts before nodding. “Yeah, I know a guy.”

“Fine. Then let’s go,” Quinn sighed, wearily putting her hair up and pulling on her boots.

Caiden looked at her. “Can you…”

“What?”

He winced. “I don’t know. Put on some makeup, or something? You look like you got mauled by a really angry fish.”

“A fish? Why a fish? How the hell would a fish even maul me?”

“I don’t know. Your face doesn’t look bad enough to have been mauled by anything actually dangerous, you know?”

She glared. “No, I don’t know.”

Caiden held up his hands innocently. “I’m just saying you look a little rough. People might stare.”

“You’re about to look rougher if you don’t shut up and go,” Quinn threatened grumpily, pulling opening the door and shoving Caiden out into the hallway.

For the first time since she’d met him, he broke out in a genuine grin.

“So you haven’t actually explained how you plan on getting two scarves for free,” Quinn said, raising an eyebrow as she parked the bike outside a scarf shop.

“You’ll see,” Caiden said. He sounded mildly uncomfortable, so Quinn didn’t pry. Instead, she followed curiously as he hung the helmet on the handlebar and walked into the shop.

The shopkeeper looked up, unimpressed at the sight of two ragged teenagers. “If you’re not here to buy, get lost.”

Caiden smiled at him. “You probably don’t remember me.”

The storekeeper said nothing, but furrowed his eyebrows.

Caiden continued. “I was a lot younger the last time I came here, and I was with another person. Scarlett, yeah? Not sure if you remember her, either. But maybe you remember me saying that your daughter seemed sick.”

At this, his face immediately darkened. “The little boy. You—my daughter fell sick just days after you visited. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Caiden replied, in a calm voice. “I’m a healer, sir, not a fighter. I just sensed that there was a sickness about to take hold.”

His shoulders sagged. “Alice has been sick for years, now. The doctors say she might not have much time left. What do you want?”

“Two scarves,” Caiden said. “In exchange for healing your daughter.”

His eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t taunt me. No healer wants her ailment, and she won’t give it to someone else through one. She refuses to. You don’t know how many times I’ve begged her to let me suffer through it, instead of her.”

“Don’t worry about it. Do we have a deal or not?”

He hesitated, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. “If you’re playing some kind of cruel joke—“

“I’m not,” Caiden interrupted. “Please, trust me. Just let me see if I can heal her. If I do, all I ask for are two scarves. Alright?”

Quinn could see that the shopkeeper didn’t want to believe Caiden, for fear of false hope, but that he was persuaded nonetheless. “Fine,” he agreed. “She’s upstairs.”

He stepped out from behind the counter and gestured towards a covert flight of stairs near the back of the store. As he led them up, Quinn noticed a dark blue scarf hanging from his belt loop, signifying his status as a sorcerer. She wasn’t used to the sight—where she lived, out in the outskirts of town, sorcerers were few and far between. Here, in the city, however, she realized they were everywhere.

Above the store was a modestly furnished apartment, and the man headed towards the back, turning down a hallway. He knocked gently on the last door.

“Come in,” a voice answered, weak and quiet.

He opened the door into what was clearly the master bedroom, with a huge bed and large windows, covered by curtains. The TV was on, but the girl sitting in the bed paused it as they walked in. She looked curiously as Caiden and Quinn, and then glanced to her father for an explanation.

She seemed to barely be older than Quinn, and her complexion was pale and sickly. An I.V. was hooked up to her right arm, and Quinn could see the pain in her father’s eyes as he looked at her.

He seemed afraid to say anything, so Caiden stepped forward and offered her a hand. “My name’s Caiden.”

“Alice,” she replied, making no move to take his hand. “Do I know you?”

Caiden put his hand down and then moved closer, sitting down on the chair next to her bed. “We met once, a long time ago. But that’s not important. I’m here to heal you.”

Her eyes flashed to her father. “Dad, I told you—“

“No,” Caiden said, quickly. “I won’t be passing your pain onto someone else. I won’t be holding onto it, either. Just relax, and you should be fine.”

She glared at him. “No. That’s impossible.”

Caiden ignored her, and took her hand, closing his eyes. She tried to pull it away from him, but was too weak.

And then, Quinn watched in fascination as her skin began to glow subtly, just enough for her veins to become slightly more visible. They were dark, darker than they should’ve been, but as they looked on, they lightened, and Alice’s eyes widened. After a couple minutes, Caiden opened his eyes and let go of her hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

“How did you do that?” She asked, her voice now strong and steady.

He shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

“Alice?” Her father asked, hoarsely. “Do you really feel okay?”

Her eyes were wide in wonder. “I don’t…I don’t know. I feel different. More energized. And nothing hurts, like usual. And I can breathe just fine and…” She teared up. “Dad, I think I’m fine.”

As if he hardly dared to believe it, her father touched her shoulder cautiously before snatching her up in a hug, and then there were tears and all of a sudden, Quinn realized she was dangerously close to crying herself.

The last Vespertine. No mother, father, or brother to hold her. She shook away the thought, afraid that she might snap completely if she went down that path.

Caiden casted a sideways glance at her, realizing that her eyes were misty. He cleared his throat again, drawing the attention of the shopkeeper and his daughter.

“I hate to interrupt this moment,” he said. “But my friend and I need to be on our way. The scarves?”

“Of course,” the storekeeper said, practically tripping over himself in his haste to get back downstairs. “Take whichever ones you want.”

“After you,” Caiden said, nodding towards the stairs. Still in awe, Quinn slipped down wordlessly and approached the walls lined with colorful silken scarves. She chose one of a deep red color, and tied it loosely around her neck. Caiden opted for a dark navy one, which he wrapped around his wrist. He nodded in thanks to the storeowner, who waved him off with tears still in his eyes. And then they exited the store, back into the bright daylight, and stood around Quinn’s bike.

Caiden snickered. “You look like a flight attendant.”

“You look like a-” Quinn began, but found that the scarf didn’t have an impact on his appearance, and settled for a glare instead. “Whatever. Tell me, what is your power, actually?”

Caiden’s amused expression vanished. “I told you,” he said. “I’m a healer.”

Quinn shook her head. “No, there’s something different about you. How did you heal that girl when nobody else could?”

He remained annoyingly stone-faced, and Quinn resignedly decided not to pursue the matter further. She’d find out eventually, one way or another. “Fine. Now we have our scarves. What’s our next course of action?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That was my question. I contributed the scarf idea. I think it’s your turn.”

“Then I guess it’s time to discuss my change-the-world plan, as you call it,” Quinn replied grimly.

“So you have a plan, then?”

Quinn hesitated. “Well...not exactly.”

Caiden waited for her to continue.

“I know Salvatore had a plan,” she said quickly. “I just... don’t really know what it is.”

Caiden blinked at her for several long seconds. And then he spoke with biting sarcasm. “Oh, is that it? I was waiting for the ‘but’. You know? The part where you explain how that’s helpful in any way?”

She threw up her hands. “Okay, look. Salvatore didn’t tell me everything before he—when he was alive. The only thing I knew was that he had a plan that would change everything, and—wait.”

“Wait what?”

“I remember something,” she said slowly. “Something Salvatore said not long ago. He told me that he had the key to everything, and that if anything ever happened to him I should use it to take over.”

“Anything substantial?” Caiden griped. “That kind of sounds like a lot of bullshit.”

Quinn gave him a scathing look. “Shut up. He...he showed me an actual key. A little gold one that he wore around his neck.”

Caiden perked up a little. “Alright, that’s a start. Any idea what it unlocks?”

Quinn shook her head. “No.”

“Okay...where is it, then?”

Her shoulders sagged. “It must still be on his body. I didn’t take the key off before I left the cavern.”

Caiden shook his head adamantly. “Oh, hell no. His body is at the compound. We can’t go back.”

“Well, technically, we can go back,” Quinn corrected him, in a hopeful tone. “It just wouldn’t be wise.”

“I make a point of not doing unwise things.”

“You rescued me, twice, against all logical reasoning,” Quinn pointed out.

“Exactly,” he groaned. “And now look.”

She shrugged and hopped on her bike. “Well, I’m going, whether you like it or not.”

“You’re gonna die.”

“And then you’ll be all alone!” She shot back, cheerfully. “I mean, think about it. It wouldn’t have anything to do with you, except now they want you, too. And you can deal with that alone, or you can come with me and increase my chances of getting out alive, with the key. And then I wouldn’t be dead and you wouldn’t be completely alone. See?”

“Can’t we just like, move to a different city, get married and own five dogs or something?”

Quinn wrinkled her nose. “No. And I wouldn’t marry you anyways.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna marry you,” Caiden muttered, but reluctantly mounted the bike behind her and put on the helmet before locking his arms around her waist. “This makes total sense. They want to kill us really bad, so we’re going to drive into their base. You’re a great tactician, you know that?”

She revved the engine and ignored him. “I don’t have my weapons, so I need to get some first. I’ll need a gun, a knife, a staff...”

“And a brain,” Caiden suggested, and promptly squealed in terror as she took off without warning, grinning as she felt him tighten his hold.

“You know,” Caiden mused, as they stood behind the trees, gazing at the compound, “we do kind of have an advantage.”

“And what’s that?”

“They don’t think we could possibly be stupid enough to come back,” he replied dryly. “So most of the department is out looking for us.”

“See, I told you. We’ll be fine.”

He shot her a look. “We’ll be dead in approximately half an hour.”

“Pessimist.”

He checked his watch. “The guard will shift in another ten minutes. Most of them are too impatient to stay at their post the whole ten minutes and will probably leave a couple minutes early, especially seeing as it’s lunch hour. So let’s hope we can sneak in without having to fight anybody.”

Quinn nodded in agreement, and then looked at Caiden. “Well, since we have a little time, why don’t you tell me about your powers?”

He bit his lip. “No thanks.”

“You can trust me,” Quinn said, earnestly. “And how bad can it be? You’re just a special kind of healer, right?”

He gave her a sidelong glance, and then sighed. “I guess I might as well tell you, since we’re stuck together.”

He still seemed hesitant, but he began his explanation nonetheless. “You’re aware how healer magic generally works?”

Quinn gave him a sheepish grin. “Kind of. Not exactly. Pretty sure I fell asleep during that lecture.”

Caiden rolled his eyes. “Of course. Well, simply speaking, magic is energy, and so is life force. Wounds of a physical nature, and illnesses, they mar the life force. Drain it, warp it, and as a result the person will be hurt. Healers have the ability to align the energy of their power and the energy of the life force, and untangle the knots and repair the rips in the force. But energy has to be conserved, as a basic law of the universe. And so healers can’t take away the pain without inflicting it onto someone else.”

“The transfer is instantaneous. Whatever discomfort and affect on the human body the injury has, is transferred in the form of pain into the body of the healer, until they pass the pain onto somebody else. That’s why we still have modern medicine—healer magic is an impractical way to heal everybody, considering the effects. It’s also why healers make very efficient fighters. They’re able to heal their own injuries and change it into pain to inflict upon their enemies.” He paused. “I think the rest is kind of obvious.”

“You don’t have the side effects,” Quinn agreed, realization dawning. “You’re not like other healers. You can heal and hurt whenever and however you want.”

He looked slightly distraught. “Yes. But there’s more than that.”

“Like?”

“The theory is that if a healer wanted to, they could save someone who has already died. In modern times, we classify someone who is dead as someone whose heart and brain have stopped functioning. But the life force, that energy, it isn’t always completely gone. Nobody’s tried, but they think that if a healer used his own life force to supplant a dead one, they could bring the dead person back to life, at the cost of his own.”

Quinn suddenly understood where this was going. “But since you don’t have the tradeoff...”

He nodded. “It’s why Astor kept me hidden all this time. I’m valuable as a healer, but being able to raise the dead? He’d never let me go.”

Quinn barely heard those last words. Instead, she was thinking about her brother. “Salvatore,” she breathed. “You can bring him back.”

Caiden’s brow furrowed. “What? No, Quinn--”

“Can’t you?” She asked, desperately.

“No,” he replied, stunned. “Quinn, my whole point is it’s not right. I wouldn’t do that. I can’t—“ he suddenly stopped as he noticed movement at the door. “The guard is changing,” he said abruptly. “We have to go.”

They ran down to the compound and Quinn caught the door just before it slid closed again, and the two of them crawled underneath to the other side. She let go and it sank to the floor, and they continued down the corridor, Caiden leading the way.

“The medical wing is to the left,” he said quietly. “Beyond it is the morgue.”

Quinn sprinted behind him, and luckily, they encountered no sorcerers on the way to the morgue. Apparently, they had better things to do than stand guard over corpses.

Caiden entered a code into the keypad, and the heavy steel door hissed. He pulled it open and the two of them slipped inside.

Quinn shivered. It was cold, and it was unsettling, the rows of clean drawers, each one with a cadaver inside, wrapped up in a black bag.

“Caiden,” she said, grabbing his arm as he went to search for Salvatore’s body. “Can’t you just try?”

“No,” he snapped. Then he softened a little. “Quinn, you know that’s not right. The dead belong with the dead. It’s not up to me to cross that line.”

She was breathing heavier. The tears from earlier began to make a reappearance. “Your people killed him.”

“But I didn’t,” Caiden said, and then he put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Quinn, I really am. But two wrongs don’t make a right. And we better find your brother before someone finds us.”

Quinn let go of his arm and nodded. She knew she was being irrational, but some insane part of her still clung to the idea that she might see her brother again.

They scanned the room and Caiden waved her over when they found the drawer labeled “S. VESPERTINE”.

“I can do it, if you want,” he said quietly. “You can look in the next room, where they keep personal belongings. Sometimes they strip them, sometimes they don’t.”

Quinn shook her head. “I’m alright,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Caiden pulled out Salvatore’s drawer, revealing a black bag. He felt around for the zipper on top, and then slid it down just enough to reveal Salvatore’s head, neck, and chest.

Quinn felt a rush of dizziness. She felt like throwing up, and turned to avoid potentially puking in the morgue. She had only caught a glimpse of him, but her brother looked different in death. None of the movements and idiosyncrasies that made Salvatore Salvatore, he just looked like any regular guy with brown hair and a peaceful expression. They hadn’t bothered to pay respect to his corpse; he lay in the clothes he had died in, grime still smeared all over his face. All they had done was remove his mask.

Caiden spotted the brown leather cord around his neck and reached for it, cringing slightly as he touched the cold body. He carefully pulled it off, wrestling it off Salvatore’s head. He shuddered and quickly zipped the bag up, and then tossed the key to Quinn, who was watching from a distance. She still looked sick, but caught it.

Caiden wanted to say something, but suddenly, the alarm went off.

“Dammit,” Caiden muttered. “I forgot about the cameras.”

“Cameras?” Quinn demanded, and then looked around, spotting the surveillance camera in the corner of the room.

“They must’ve just seen us,” Caiden said, and then pulled Quinn behind a shelf. “We’re hidden from view here, but there’s definitely already officers on the way.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Fight our way out, I guess.” Caiden peeked out, but there was no movement at the door yet. “I’d rather not if we can avoid it. We need a distraction. Can you control your power?”

Quinn looked at him like he was crazy. “No,” she said. “I didn’t even know I had powers until yesterday. How the hell am I supposed to control it?”

He bit his lip thoughtfully and then nodded decisively. “I’ll teach you.”

“Right now?”

“No, when we’re relaxing on an island somewhere,” he replied sarcastically. “Yes, right now.”

She glared. He ignored it and took her hands, holding on even as she instinctively jerked backwards.

He traced from her palm to each of her fingers. “Powers are always accessible without physical motion, technically. But it takes a lot of skill and practice, and practically nobody can do it. Or if they do, they choose not to. Magic flows more easily through a conduit—in this case, it’s your body. And in your body the extremes are the most common vectors, especially your hands and feet.”

“But magic itself comes from your core. Your energy.” He hesitated. “I’m gonna try to tweak your life force. See if you feel it, where it comes from.”

A blinding pain hit Quinn shortly thereafter, and she gasped, kneeing Caiden in the stomach.

“Ow,” he hissed, letting go of her.

“Ow, my ass,” she retorted. “That hurt like shit.”

“Of course it did,” he said, rubbing his stomach. “There isn’t anything wrong with your life force, so I couldn’t heal it. So I had to cause you pain.”

Quinn felt something bubbling inside. But it didn’t feel like some magical life force. It was something more familiar. Anger.

The door slid open, and a section of the wall across the room exploded.

“Jesus,” one of the officers yelped. Caiden gave Quinn an incredulous look.

“So much for control,” he muttered, but peered out at the officers, who were aiming their guns towards the dusty rubble that had once been the far wall.

“Hands up!” One of them shouted, completely unaware that Quinn and Caiden were behind them.

Caiden motioned at the door, which was still open behind the two officers, but Quinn pulled him back and shook her head.

“Is the morgue near the edge of the compound?” She whispered, so soft Caiden could barely hear her. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, a look of confusion on his face.

“Edge, edge? Like beyond this wall is outside?”

He nodded again, and then panic flashed in his eyes as he realized what she was about to attempt. He opened his mouth to stop her, but it was too late.

An even bigger blast rocked the room as the wall next to them exploded, creating a massive hole. Sunlight filtered in through the dust as Quinn grabbed Caiden’s hand, and they ran, coughing.

Caiden blinked to get the sting out of his eyes, as did Quinn. They headed back to where Quinn’s bike was, and then they were off again, for the second time in as many days.

Quinn knew the roads well, and took the quickest possible way back to her house. Once they were there, she jumped off the bike with reckless abandon, leaving Caiden to steady it as she swung open the door to her home.

She headed for Salvatore’s room first. “It should be in here,” she said, clutching the gold key tightly, though the cord was around her neck. “Where would he hide something important?”

“Closet,” Caiden suggested. “It’s where I keep all my books.”

Quinn flung open the closet and rummaged through the various boxes and clothes scattered about, but came up empty. She shook her head. “No dice.”

Caiden had his head tilted, admiring the painting that hung above Salvatore’s bed. It was simple and impressionistic, not the type of thing Caiden would have imagined being above the older Vespertine’s bed. “Your brother was into art?”

“Not really,” Quinn said, joining him at the foot of Salvatore’s bed. “What are you thinking?”

“Take the painting down,” Caiden suggested. “Sometimes people hide safes behind paintings, right?”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, and climbed onto his bed to reach it. Salvatore’s scent hit her and she almost reeled, but she forced herself to stay composed. She lifted up the painting and sure enough, a gleaming black safe, built into the wall, was looking back at her.

There was a blue screen, and a keypad. Quinn felt her heart sink. “There’s a key code. I don’t know what it is.”

Caiden cautiously climbed up next to her and peered at the safe. “There’s also fingerprint recognition on the screen,” he pointed out. “Maybe Salvatore’s already programmed your fingerprint in.”

Quinn hesitated, and then glanced at her hands. “Index or thumb?”

Caiden considered this for a moment. “Index,” he decided. “Since the screen’s flat. For thumbs, they usually use the angular pads.”

Quinn pressed her right index finger onto the blue screen. “I really hope this works,” she said, faintly trailing off as the safe beeped.

For a heart-stopping moment, she thought that she might have set off some kind of booby trap, but then the door clicked and Caiden pulled it open without any apparent trouble.

Inside the small safe was a wooden box, latched shut and locked with a small, golden padlock. “This must be it,” Quinn said excitedly, pulling the box from the safe. She held it with her left hand while using her right to locate the key. The cord was long enough so that she didn’t even have to take it off to unlock the little padlock.

It fit perfectly, clicking softly as she pulled the lock off. She unlatched the box, revealing a leather journal that filled the space beautifully.

She lifted it out, and was about to open it when they heard a car pull into the driveway.

Both their heads shot up, and Caiden crossed over to the window. “It’s Scarlett,” he said, anxiously. “That’s her car. And now that’s her getting out of the car. And that’s her coming into the house, and—“

They heard the door being kicked down and Caiden winced. “Yeah, okay, we need to go.”

Quinn looked around. There were screens on her windows, like most of the windows in the house. She’d brought her gun, but not her staff or her knife, which she’d left in the compartment in her bike. Stupid.

The door creaked one final time before it was obvious that Scarlett had broken in. “This way,” Quinn said, stuffing the journal inside her jacket and motioning towards the next bedroom, the master one.

The master bedroom had an adjoining bathroom and closet, which she headed into. She reached in between two racks of hanging clothes and pulled out an extendable stepladder, which she promptly used to hook her fingers into a latch in the ceiling. She pulled, and the attic door opened.

Quinn jumped lightly and pulled herself up, and Caiden admired her upper arm-strength, and lamented his own. He would probably need help getting up.

He got onto the ladder and Quinn offered him a hand, and he pulled himself over with minor assistance. The attic was dusty and clearly had never been used, probably due to the fact that the ceiling was barely high enough for them to stand. It was intended more as a storage space than anything else.

Quinn closed the attic door and prayed that if Scarlett did come in here, she wouldn’t question the stepladder in the middle of the closet.

Light was let in through a window on the other side of the attic, one of the only ones in the house that didn’t have screens. The two of them crouched, cautiously, listening for signs of movement in the house.

A couple minutes passed. Nothing. And then, just when Quinn was beginning to think Scarlett had left, she heard her enter the master bedroom.

Quinn made an unnecessary “shh” gesture at Caiden, whose eyes were narrowed as he held his breath, listening to Scarlett roam around the room.

They heard the door to the bathroom open, and then close a minute later. And then, louder, they heard the closet door open, and Scarlett stepped inside.

She stopped moving for a second, having obviously noticed the ladder. But either she didn’t think it was odd, or she hadn’t looked up and seen the door, for she seemed to turn around and leave, her footsteps receding and the closet door swinging open again when—

Caiden sneezed.

Quinn gave him an exasperated look. “Really?”

“I can’t help it,” he retorted. “There’s so much dust up here.”

Scarlett pulled open the door and they scrambled away from her.

“Stop running,” she said, as they ran towards the other side of the room. They couldn’t see her head yet, but her fingers were creeping into the room, and with a haul she would be there too.

“Can you explode this window?” Caiden asked, frantically.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said impatiently, taking her gun from her holster despite her protests, firing two shots and utterly shattering the window.

“You’re welcome,” Quinn grumbled as he gave her back the gun.

Scarlett hoisted herself up, but before she had time to do anything, Caiden grabbed Quinn’s hand and pulled her out the second story window.

She screamed when they landed, as did Caiden. She had it worse than him, though, having landed sideways with her arm pinned awkwardly under her. Broken arm, maybe a rib or two, definitely twisted ankle. Ouch, and nose.

He, on the other hand, had probably only broken an ankle and fractured some leg bones. It didn’t matter. A moment later, he was fine, and another few seconds of rapid healing on Quinn was enough to get her mobile as they rounded the curb to where Quinn’s bike, and Scarlett’s car, were parked.

Scarlett followed them out the window, flipping and landing with astonishing grace, completely fine. “I don’t want to have to do this the hard way.”

“Me neither,” Caiden said, but there was anger and hurt evident on his face. “Fucking traitor.”

“You—”

“Yeah, uh, Caiden, that’s great and all, but let’s go,” Quinn hissed, already on her bike. Scarlett was still in the driveway, but instead of hopping onto the back of Quinn’s bike, Caiden dove for Scarlett’s car.

Scarlett cursed and shot at him, but he was already in the driver’s seat. In her haste to search the house, Scarlett had left the keys in ignition.

Quinn didn’t have time to make sure Caiden was okay, but she threw a backwards glance as she sped off. And then she frowned as the black car teetered a little.

“Does he know how to drive?” She muttered, under her breath.

The answer appeared to be no. The car dashed into the wrong lane as it followed Quinn, but after a minute of awkwardly swerving, it seemed to straighten out.

Quinn took a back road, and then winced as she realized the narrow alley would be hard for Caiden to navigate. The black car came crashing around the corner, knocking down a couple trash bins, but luckily, Caiden seemed to be doing okay. For the most part.

She took another few little-known paths before pulling to a stop at the edge of one, waiting for that black car to appear behind her. When it did, she swung her legs off the bike and approached the window. Caiden rolled it down and grinned.

“You’ve never driven a car, have you?”

“I have now,” he replied. “It’s pretty sweet.”

“You’re also a really bad driver.”

“Half the fun. But it doesn’t matter, unless you want to leave your bike here and drive for me. Where are we going?”

Quinn considered this. “We can’t stay in Aski anymore, but it’s going to be dark soon. Coralis and Columba are about the same distance, but Coralis is a little closer.”

“Trip to the sixth,” he agreed.

She mounted her bike again, and then turned back to him. “Try not to kill yourself on the highway.”

He grimaced. “I’ll do my best.”