Oh, so a simple trip, then.
8
A few weeks ago, an order like that would have freaked us out. But now it really didn’t sound so bad. Sure, we didn’t have magic. But if Sebastian was telling the truth, Reapers didn’t, either.
And we were getting better at sneaking around the tunnels. Visiting a sanctuary was mostly about sneaking around tunnels.
I’d been to this particular sanctuary only once—and that had been to rescue Scout. I’d used my firespell for the first time, and Jamie, Jill, Paul, Jason, and Michael and I had managed to get her out again.
But that didn’t mean I was thrilled about going back. Sanctuaries were the Reaper versions of Enclaves—where they met, where they made decisions, and where people without magic were introduced to it in the worst possible way—by having bits of their souls sucked away. I was not looking forward to facing down a nest of Reapers if we managed to get caught.
This sanctuary was in a former power substation, with two access doors—one in front, and one in back. Like Enclave Three, it was also underground, but was separated from our HQ by a lot of dark and twisty tunnels.
You know, if we knew the way to get to the sanctuary, the Reapers probably could figure out how to get to the Enclave and St. Sophia’s. That explained how they kept popping up at our door. Maybe it was time to think about making some new arrangements.
“You ever think it would just be easier if the sanctuary and the Enclave were right next door to each other?” Scout whispered.
The light from our flashlights bobbed up and down as we walked side by side through the tunnels, Detroit in front of us. The boys decided the “strongest Adepts” needed to be at the front and back of the team, so Jason was in the lead and Michael was last.
“I was actually just thinking about that,” I said. “It’s too easy to get from one place to the other. I mean, if we’re supposed to be a splinter group trying to bring down the Reapers, setting up camp a few tunnels over isn’t exactly a smart move for security purposes.”
“It was at the time,” Detroit said, glancing back at us. “The Enclaves were started by Dark Elite members who wanted to change things, but they were still considered part of the Dark Elite. Other Reapers would have been suspicious if they just stopped showing up to meetings and whatnot, so they established little hideaways not far from the sanctuaries. That way, they could sneak over after meetings or whatever.”
“Which is why, if you look at the map in the City Room, the sanctuaries and Enclaves are always pretty close together,” I said.
“Yes,” Detroit primly said, and I had the sense the Enclave Two Adepts knew a lot of stuff that we didn’t. “Except for our Enclave. We’re aboveground.”
Of course they were. We had a stone room in an underground tunnel. They had labs and workout rooms and so on and so on.
Enclave Three had a werewolf.
Enclave Two had a benefactor.
* * *
We slowed as we got closer to the sanctuary. We also got quieter and huddled a little closer together. There was no telling whether the Reapers had patrols out and about, and it wasn’t like we could do much to defend ourselves.
After a moment, Jason stopped and put a hand in the air, then made a fist.
Immediately, the rest of us stopped and switched off our flashlights. I moved a little closer to Scout. This part of the tunnel was pitch-black, and it was comforting to have someone nearby. I strained my ears to figure out what he’d heard, but could hear only the thumping of my rabbit-fast heart.
That was when I heard them—two voices, a few tunnels away, which gave their voices a weird metallic echo.
“No, it’s because they think he’s weak,” said one man.
“He is weak,” agreed another. “We don’t have magic.”
Scout reached out and squeezed my hand. Sebastian had been telling us the truth—the Reapers didn’t have magic, either.
“You heard the rumors?”
“Yeah,” the other guy said after a minute. “I heard ’em.”
“You think they’re true?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t know fact from fiction anymore.”
What rumors? I wondered, and had to squeeze my lips together from calling out a question: Who took our magic away?
“I don’t have a clue,” said the first guy. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
“The Scions won’t put up with this for long. And I don’t care how the other sanctuaries do it—we’re the first sanctuary, the alpha and omega. We should not be lying around and waiting for our magic to start working again.”
“That’s why this entire organization is going to hell,” said the other one.
The footsteps moved closer, as did the faint glow of a flashlight somewhere down the line. We all froze, our shoulders pressed against one another’s, squeezed into a tight knot as we waited in the dark.
“I don’t even know why we bother patrolling. There’s nothing out here.”
“Jeremiah’s nervous. No magic, and you start to think every shadow is a boogeyman.”
“Says something about life without magic,” muttered the other guy.
“Yes, it does.” His voice dropped a little deeper, like the conversation was getting more serious.
There was silence for a minute, but the lights ahead flickered, like the guys were swinging their flashlights back and forth . . . looking for us.
“Let’s go back.”
“Fine,” the other one said. “But if he has another fit, it’s your head this time.”
After a moment, we heard footsteps moving away. And when silence descended again, Jason flipped on his flashlight and turned back to us.
Michael was the first to speak. “That confirms their magic isn’t working.”
“And they don’t seem to know why,” Jason added.
“I am very happy their magic isn’t working,” Scout said. “I also want to know what rumors they’re talking about. Let’s move closer.”
“Is that a good idea?” I asked. “We’re, what, five hundred feet from the sanctuary? It’s not going to get any safer.”
“We have to plant the camera,” Detroit reminded us. “We have to move closer.”
“We’ll go lights out,” Jason said, switching off his flashlight again. “We’ll get as close to the sanctuary as possible, and we’ll see if they have any guesses about who’s turned off the magic. If all else fails, I’ll change, sneak in, and check things out. No problem.”