Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(9)

He took her hand when she was in reach and led her toward the car he’d left in the next street over. No words were spoken until they were both inside the nondescript dark sedan he’d borrowed for the weekend.

“Are you okay?” she said once they were safely out of range of any possible listeners.

“Is there another choice?” he asked. If he were to tell her he couldn’t handle the job, she’d do it for him. She had done so, more than a few times, but there was a limit to how much he was willing to let her take on for him. The fact that they were cheating by doing his mission together was enough risk.

“You know there is.” Her tiny hand landed on his, and he could feel the heat even though she was containing it. Violet’s affinity was fire, the precise opposite of his. She had great control over it—at least she did when there was a crisis—so he wouldn’t want anyone else at his back.

He turned his hand over and squeezed hers briefly. “Not this time. You’ve done more than enough for me . . . and for Will.”

She shrugged. “Family, right?”

“Always.” With Violet or Will, Roan could let his guard down. He could admit that he wasn’t as laissez-faire as everyone believed. With them, he could admit that he hated what they were tasked with doing, hated the way it made him feel, and sometimes in words never spoken too overtly, he admitted that he hated the Queen of Blood and Rage. With Violet or Will, Roan didn’t need to be anything but honest.

“I’m glad Will isn’t here,” he murmured.

“One of these days . . .” Violet let the words die before she spoke them. Some of the Sleepers had been tasked with easier things, but both Violet and Roan had gone on several missions that ended with human deaths. Will, Creed, and Alkamy had all been spared that awful experience so far.

Both Roan and Violet lapsed into silence as he drove them to the train station. There were times when he’d been able to pretend, to try to keep up some sort of banter as they set out to commit murder. After two years of such missions, his ability to feign indifference was no longer worth the energy it stole—and Vi didn’t require it of him.

Once they arrived at the station, Roan pulled into the lot and cut the engine. They sat in continued silence for several more moments.

“Let me do this,” she urged.

“No. Smoke only,” he stressed. “That’s what we agreed. If they’re unconscious, maybe the water won’t . . .” His words faded. He didn’t know whether it would hurt less to die of drowning or smoke inhalation. Being burned sounded like the worst option. That much he was fairly sure of.

Violet said nothing as she opened her door and stepped into the lot. The upside of her career was that it provided cover and alibis. The downside was that she was far too recognizable. Alkamy, who was just as beautiful, coped with the issue of recognition by only releasing one album—and avoiding tour. It gave her some ability to hide.

Creed simply didn’t care if he was killed or caught; he was all but taunting death these days. Violet, on the other hand, genuinely loved acting and didn’t want to get caught—but she couldn’t refuse orders. None of them could.

Roan closed the car door softly. The order wasn’t hers. This was his mission, his responsibility.

“Maybe you should stay here,” he blurted when he reached her side.

“As if.” Violet bumped into him lightly. “Come on. We’ve got this.”

The walk toward the metro station was silent, but when they started descending, she looked over her shoulder and reminded him, “I need electrical shortages. No video footage, just in case it’s live feed.”

They were halfway down the escalator when he started pulling droplets of water from the air and dowsing electronics. The escalator shuddered to a stop when they were two-thirds of the way to the bottom. Violet didn’t miss a beat. She continued walking forward as if the escalator had always been mere steps.

He followed, barely pausing when the escalator erupted in flames behind him. It was necessary, if cruel. There would be no retreat that way, not for any of the people in the tunnel ahead of them currently awaiting trains.

Her hands seem to glow as if embers writhed under the surface. Trickles of flames slid over her skin, as if she was coaxing them out. Clouds of smoke grew and billowed from her body and rolled forward. The air grew thicker and thicker with smoke.

Roan could see people in the tunnel as the smoke engulfed them. He told himself that they were all monsters, actively destroying the earth, poisoners who would kill him for his heritage. He told himself they deserved to die. He tried to recall every cruel thing that his childhood handler had taught him about humanity, to summon every reason why the queen’s war was just and good.

Then people began yelling.

“We need to reach the other opening of the tunnel before they escape that way,” Violet said, spurring him forward, reminding him that this was planned chaos.

“I know.” Even opening his mouth to speak those two words made his throat burn. The fog-like air had the tinge of wood fires and ash, and Roan tried not to cough at the taste in his mouth. Minutes passed as they walked forward in silence. When they reached the other end of the platform, Violet sent a wave of fire to close off the mouth of the tunnel. No train could enter. No one could exit.

Then, the screams began in earnest.

Roan reached out with his affinity, not to pull droplets of water from the quickly drying air, but to find the pipes that he knew ran nearby.