Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (20 page)

But will it show the shootout in the parking lot where I…
Nolan stopped short. That line of thinking would lead nowhere.
What’s done is done.
He couldn’t do anything about it now. Besides, he wasn’t sure he would have done anything differently. He had to know who he was. He had to know if he was alone.
It was worth the risk
. Still, he still had to be prepared with a story to justify his actions. Something that would, at the very least, give Maddox and the other detectives pause until he was able to come up with something cleaner.

You’re in cuffs, moron. There is no giving them pause. They have you—but I saved Maddox’s life. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?
The cold steel biting into his wrists suggested otherwise.

Maddox came into view a short time later, walking with a pudgy detective wearing a tan trench coat that went down to his shins.

He’s giving a statement
, Nolan thought. He wished he could hear what Maddox was saying. Loyalty was everything to the man. He wouldn’t stab Nolan in the back, would he?
He also believes in order
. What ran deeper—Maddox’s sense of loyalty or his dedication to order?

The car rocked to the side as Maddox climbed into the driver’s seat. He sat silently for a moment, refusing to look at Nolan, then finally took a deep breath and started the engine.

“Maddox—” Nolan started.

“Not now,” Maddox said sharply.

“But—”

“I said
not now
.”

Pushing the issue wouldn’t get him anywhere with a man like Maddox. Better to remain quiet and let him direct the conversation when he was ready. That time came when Maddox pulled into an empty parking lot in the industrial district under the Freemont Bridge. A series of grimy warehouses with flaking paint and boarded-up windows covered the landscape. Graffitied railcars lined the tracks behind them, and the air was thick with the smell of diesel fumes, coal, and blue-collar labor.

Maddox shut off the engine and turned slightly, so that one half of his face was hidden in shadow. “You lied to me.”

“Maddox—”

“Let me talk,” Maddox snapped. “I never should have trusted you. I should have seen it from the beginning—a fresh recruit with a spotty past, your infatuation with the library, the leak. I don’t know who you are, but you’re
not
my partner.”

“I saved your life.”

“You’re one of
them
.”

“Maddox,” Nolan said. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Damn it, Nolan!” Maddox barked. “I
saw
you. I saw them. I saw…” Maddox pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as if he were unwilling to believe what he’d seen.

Nolan knew the feeling well. The confusion. The fear of going mad. The fear of being a freak. Differences didn’t bring people together. They drove them apart. They made the world think in terms of “us versus them.” And Nolan was
one of them
. Regardless of what Maddox believed, though, Nolan respected him.

He thought briefly about telling him the truth. He’d met with Allyn because they were different—outcasts. Nobody knew what it was like to be truly alone, always hiding, but Allyn did. Something had made him leave behind a successful career, and Nolan believed it had to do with his abilities. In that, they were similar. And it meant neither was forced to live in isolation anymore.

You’re one of us
.

Us.
The word had a strange meaning, and it stirred a deep longing inside Nolan. The bureau was a tight community of like-minded men and women, and they often used words like
us
or
we
, but Nolan had never felt fully part of that brotherhood. When Allyn had said it, he’d meant it
because
of their shared abilities, not in spite of them.

But how could he explain all of that to Maddox? He was far from a sentimental man, and his belief system didn’t allow for emotional weakness. In Maddox’s eyes, Nolan had broken the law and needed to be disciplined accordingly. Nolan couldn’t escape imprisonment by catering to Maddox’s supposed sentimental side.

“How long have you been working against me, Nolan?”

“What?”

“You’re working with them.”

Nolan cursed under his breath. The improbable task had just become impossible.

“Maddox,” Nolan said, “I’m not working with anyone but you.”

“Bullshit!” Maddox slapped the steering wheel. “You thought you could sneak behind my back? You’ve been leaking information through this entire investigation, always keeping Kaplan one step ahead.”

“You don’t know everything you think you know.”

“Really?” Maddox turned to face him. “I spoke with the Hood River Police Department. They said they never received a call from the FBI to look into Kaplan’s cabin.”

“Maddox—”

“You never called them, Nolan, because you knew Kaplan was hiding up there. You purposely sabotaged my investigation.”

“It’s not what you think,” Nolan said.

“I had you followed,” Maddox said. “You were at that diner for nearly an hour with the very man we were supposed to catch, and you really expect me to believe you’re not working together?”

“If I was working with them,” Nolan said, “then why didn’t I run with them? Why stay behind?”

“Maybe they were done with you.” Maddox’s expression turned hard. “I know
I am
. I’m going to bury you, Nolan. I hope you like those bars back there, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of them.”

“Maddox,” Nolan said. “He reached out to me. I was going to call you in once I knew it was him!” It wasn’t entirely true, but that really didn’t matter.

Maddox remained silent, putting the car in gear.

“He’s afraid,” Nolan continued. “He’s looking to make a deal, to come in. He just needed to be pushed in the right direction—he couldn’t be forced. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Now he was flat-out lying, but he was growing desperate. “Maddox? Maddox! Answer me!”

Maddox pulled the car back onto the road and continued toward the Steel Bridge. That would lead them into downtown, to the detention center. Maddox had made up his mind.

“No,” Nolan said. The walls closed in again. Heart racing, he slammed his eyes closed, but instead of quiet solitude, he was somewhere else. Another tight space. A cage. He heard Sam’s high-pitched, maniacal laugh, muffled by the pale-gray walls of the cage. Slits had been cut into the side, allowing for slivers of light to pour through. A dark shadow paced outside.

Not again
.

The cage smelled of dog and urine. His urine. He imagined himself sliding to the back of the plastic kennel, hugging his knees, bending his head awkwardly under the low ceiling. Sam beat on the outside of the cage as he ran circles around it, shouting curses at Nolan, telling him he would never let him out. It was a game to Sam. Make Nolan a pet. Command him. Make him obey.

Shadow, their old dog, was supposed to help Sam, calm him by giving him something that depended on him. It had only turned him into a full-blown psychopath. And after Sam had been caught throwing firecrackers at the dog, Shadow had gone to better owners, and Sam’s wrath had been redirected twofold on Nolan.

Nolan opened his eyes. He was back in the police car. Maddox watched him from the rearview mirror, smiling, taking pleasure in seeing Nolan trapped. The air disappeared from Nolan’s lungs, and he slammed his eyes shut again, trying to recall his calming exercise.

Sam sat on his chest. Nolan fought, trying to roll his brother off him, but he was too strong. Sam hadn’t been a big kid—in fact, he had been long and skinny, with sharp elbows and exposed ribs—but he was older than Nolan by four years and stronger with age. Sam wriggled, driving his tailbone into Nolan’s sternum. Nolan tried to yell for his mom’s help, but Sam covered his mouth with his hand. Nolan’s weak cry barely reached his own ears. His eyes burned. Tears streamed down his face. He was going to die.

Sam laughed, encouraged by Nolan’s silent pleas, and raised a fist. Nolan barely saw the blow coming before his vision went white. The blows continued. More pain. Blood mixed with tears.

Desperation swelled inside Nolan, cultivating something along with it. A buried instinct. His need to survive. His desire to fight. He wasn’t a cornered animal anymore—he was alone in a vast vacuum. It was dark, and Nolan struggled to orient himself. Sam wasn’t the problem. Nolan was. He was too willing to roll over. To hide. To cry. Not anymore. Sam wouldn’t be stopped by a pet or responsibility. He wouldn’t be stopped until someone made
him
the victim.

The blows continued to rain down. Nolan barely felt them anymore, as if his newfound inner strength made him immune to them. Holding onto his tether of desperation, he knew what to do.

Nolan let the desperation fill him, strengthening him. He arched his back, heaving Sam off. His eyes snapped open—

The car lurched. The seatbelt snapped taut, digging into Nolan’s chest as the momentum carried him forward. His head narrowly missed slamming into the Plexiglas barrier. The car came to a rest in the middle of the street, in a haze of blue smoke. Gravel from the center lane rattled against the undercarriage.

Maddox turned to Nolan, his eyes wide with terror. A car barreled toward them from behind, its headlights painting the inside of their car with white light. Maddox reached for something—a black object that seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.

A gun. He shouted something that Nolan couldn’t make out.

The light grew blinding as the car approached.
No
, Nolan realized.
There is no car.
He tore his eyes off the gun. His hands, still cuffed behind his back, glowed up to his elbows, clearly visible under his starched white shirt. It pulsed, matching the speed of his heartbeat. A haze almost like vapor distorted the air around his arms, creating shimmering light.

The light hasn’t been this bright since—

“Stop!” Maddox had the gun leveled at him.

Nolan looked down the barrel of the gun, unflinching. The tool scared him less than the confinement did. Besides, the three-inch glass was bulletproof. The worst a gunshot would do inside the car was deafen each of them. If Maddox truly wanted to shoot Nolan, he would have to get out of the car. Maddox seemed to realize this, met Nolan’s eye, and flung open his door.

Nolan turned his back to the door as Maddox approached, sliding as far to the other side of the car as he could get. He knew that look in Maddox’s eye. He’d seen it too many times before in Sam’s. He’d stood up to him once—he could do so again. The door popped open, and Nolan
released
.

His hands, pointed at the door, grew so bright that they seemed to suck in the light around them. The light that had crept up his arms disappeared, pooling into his hands, then exploded.

The release of energy sounded like a freight truck rumbling down a cavernous tunnel. Deep. Vast. Powerful. A split second later, the window to the door Maddox was opening shattered. The door shrieked in a terrible symphony of metal on metal as it was ripped off the hinge. Like the recoil of a large-caliber gun, the release of power should have propelled Nolan in the opposite direction, but it didn’t—it had never worked like that. The energy went one way, like a flashlight, never affecting him.

By the time Nolan turned to look, Maddox was on the ground, still clutching the handle of the driver’s side door resting on top of him. The older agent was unconscious, and blood streaked from a small cut on his forehead.

Nolan looked on, half expecting the man to rise, the other half fearing he was dead. It had happened so fast. One moment, he’d been trying to calm himself, and the next…
I won’t be caged again
. Feeling suddenly confident, Nolan inched his way out of the car and made for Maddox. He found the keys to the cuffs on Maddox’s belt and made quick use of them. Dropping the cuffs to the ground, he massaged his wrists, quickly surveying his surroundings.

Across the street was a MAX station—a covered pavilion similar to a bus stop with benches and kiosks to buy tickets. Light-rail tracks wrapped around the station, making it into a concrete island of public transportation that extended for nearly a full city block. This particular stop was a hub for MAX transit and would have normally been teeming with riders, but it was, save for a homeless man sleeping on one of the benches, empty during the odd hour.

The cut on Maddox’s brow was superficial and already beginning to clot. His breathing was strong, and Nolan couldn’t find anything else wrong with the man. Nolan took the gun and the second revolver that Maddox kept hidden in his ankle holster and tossed them into the car. He took Maddox’s cell phone, looked at the fallen man one last time, and returned to the car.

Once he was several miles away, he called it in.
Officer down. Suspect fled. Send medical.
Nolan hoped Maddox would understand, but he was doubtful. Still, knowing he’d done everything he could eased the knot in Nolan’s stomach.

He merged onto I84, heading east, praying a squad car driving down the interstate with a missing door wouldn’t draw too much attention.

You’re one of us
, Allyn had said.

It was time to find out what that really meant.

Chapter 23

T
he cabin was in a state of organized chaos. Chaotic because the McCollum Family was once again forced to flee the place they called home, but organized because they had been through it before. Liam supposed it helped that nearly everything they had ever owned had burned with the manor—they had very little to pack.

Jaxon’s word had come down hard and fast, and with very little information. All Liam knew was that they’d run into some kind of trouble and were en route back to the cabin. He was to prepare the Family to run. That hadn’t stopped the rest of the Family from bombarding him with questions and constant requests for updates—well after he’d made it clear that he hadn’t been given any.

Finally tired of the repeated distractions, Liam had activated the GPS on Allyn’s phone and broadcasted it through his computer on the dining room table. The blue circle on the colorful topographical map drew ever closer to the densely wooded area around the cabin, acting as a visual countdown. It had all but ended the questions. The closer Allyn’s signal came, the closer their answers were.

During his efforts to organize the Family’s remaining unpacked contents, he saw Vincent and Joyce sneak away into the garage. The way Vincent held the door open for Joyce while surveying the grounds to make sure no one was watching told Liam they were hiding something.
But what? And of all times, why now?

Liam had enough to do without digging into their secrets—and he was more than a little afraid that he’d walk in on something he would rather not see—but he needed all hands assisting him with the preparations. So despite his better judgment, he followed.

He entered through the side door, sneaking into the dusty confines of the seldom-used garage. When the Hyland refugees had arrived, there had been brief discussion of housing them in the garage, but its thin, un-insulated walls did little to keep out the bite of winter. It was better to be uncomfortable in the house than dead in the garage.

A few boxes of old belongings lined the shelves, while rusted tools, loose nails, and scraps of molded wood littered an old workbench at the head of the garage. The room was dark, and dust tickled the back of his throat. Liam had to swallow then breathe through his nose to keep from coughing. The air smelled of sweat and spoiled gasoline.

Liam made for a room adjacent to the main space, and he was halfway across the room when he heard a sharp gasp. He stopped, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat.

“It’s okay,” Joyce said. “It’s okay. It’s me.”

Heavy breathing. Rustling.

Liam crept forward.

“It’s me,” Joyce repeated. “Look at me. Can you hear me? Relax.”

The door to the room was only halfway closed. Liam leaned into it with his shoulder, peeking inside. Joyce stood beside an old metal bedframe, a pale, slender hand in hers. Two feet, hidden under a thick comforter, wrestled aimlessly, and with her other hand, Joyce patted the person’s leg in what he assumed was supposed to be a calming gesture. He couldn’t see the person’s face.

Liam pushed the door open a little more.

“Canary,” Joyce continued. “Canary, can you hear me?”

The door squeaked.

Liam froze.

Joyce looked up from the bed, locking eyes with him. Before Liam could utter a word, the door handle was ripped out of his hands, and Vincent appeared on the other side of the door. The soft man wasn’t much taller than Liam, and he’d gone completely bald in recent years. His eyes, magnified by thick prescription glasses, were full of shock and fear. He looked from Liam to the bed.

Liam followed his gaze. He knew the girl in the bed. Yellow and black streaked hair. A heart-shaped face. Creamy tan skin.

Canary mumbled so quickly that Liam couldn’t pick up more than one word in five—but her deep, emerald-colored eyes told him everything he needed to hear.
Help me
.

“What in the name of our First Families is going on here?”

The trip back to the cabin was the longest commute of Allyn’s life. Jaxon held Rory down against the backseat by his shoulders while Leira and Nyla operated. They couldn’t heal the wound until the bullet was removed, and without the proper medical equipment, they’d been forced to use more barbaric methods. Leira, with the slenderest fingers, had dug through the wound, tearing Rory’s skin like a hole in a pair of denim jeans as she searched for the slug.

Nyla had pushed Rory under, but the pain was too great, her pool of exhaustion too shallow to keep him there. He awoke with every attempt, screaming, kicking, thrashing, and tearing his wound even more. And each time, they had to start over. Blood stained each of their hands and was soaking into the backseat. The metallic stench was so strong that Allyn could taste it.

It took them nearly an hour to find and remove the bullet, and by then, a nervous energy filled the car. Nyla and Leira shared the burden, taking on Rory’s injuries equally. They didn’t heal him completely; doing so would have incapacitated the two of them, but they went far enough to stop the bleeding and close the wound. Rory wouldn’t have use of his arm for a while, but he wouldn’t bleed to death, either.

In an effort to escape the procedure in the backseat, Allyn had coached himself through the night’s events. Nolan had all but confirmed he was a magi, and then in the melee, he’d proven it. What had that light been? Not fire, ice, or electricity.
Some kind of energy maybe?

The one thing Allyn did know: Nolan was powerful. He only wished he knew whose side the man was on.

The look of genuine surprise on Maddox’s face when he’d seen Allyn exiting the diner had been enough to convince him that Maddox hadn’t expected to see him. Or Maddox was the best actor Allyn had ever seen.
Not likely.
But that didn’t rule out the idea that it all could have been a ruse, with Nolan acting as the bait and calling Maddox in to apprehend him. However, that didn’t make much sense, either. Why not surround the diner with undercover officers? Call in the cavalry once they identified him or after Nolan’s informal questioning? If Nolan had truly intended to capture him, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

Then why side with Maddox?

The questions gnawed at Allyn’s insides, tickling his brain like an elusive word on the tip of his tongue. It was right
there
. He just couldn’t connect the dots, and he ran out of road before he solved the puzzle.

He didn’t know what he’d expected to see in the cabin, but he hadn’t expected the scene to be so methodical. The McCollum magi teemed about the cabin, organized, loading their few belongings onto the porch. As it stood, Allyn didn’t know how they were going to transport the entire Family and the Hyland refugees, let alone their belongings. And where were they headed? Jaxon hadn’t given him any indication.

One thing at a time
.
You can’t worry about tomorrow until you take care of today.

Liam rushed out of the cabin just as Jaxon pulled Rory from the backseat and handed him off to Leira and Nyla. Liam didn’t slow—he hit Jaxon square in the midsection, throwing the injured man to the ground. It wasn’t until then that Allyn saw the tears in Liam’s eyes.

“Liam!” Allyn shouted.

“How could you?” Liam asked, his voice shaking. He kicked at Jaxon wildly, missing as often as he connected.

“Liam!” Allyn grabbed him from behind and dragged him away from Jaxon, catching an elbow in the ribs for his efforts. “Liam, stop! What’s gotten into you?”

“He betrayed us!”

“What?”

Leira and Nyla stopped, turned, and faced the commotion.

“You ordered her isolation,” Liam yelled. “You forced her under.” He kicked again but was too far away. All it did was fling snow across Jaxon’s dark face. “How could you? How
could
you?”

“Liam,” Allyn said. “Liam, slow down. Back up. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He felt Liam’s body relax then let go of the boy.

Liam turned to face him. “Canary is sick,” he said softly. “And they didn’t know how to treat her, so Jaxon isolated her from the Family and kept her unconscious.”

Allyn blinked. Liam might as well have hit him. Allyn was dazed. He looked from Liam to Jaxon, hoping to see confusion and bewilderment on Jaxon’s face, but the man’s expression remained blank. He stood, using the car for leverage.

“Is that true?” Allyn asked.

Jaxon didn’t look at him.

“Jaxon?” Allyn said. “Is that true?” He said each word slowly, drawing them out for effect.

“She’s unstable,” Jaxon said. “We had to do something.”

The world suddenly shrank, as if he were looking at it through a straw. Everything in his peripheral vision dissolved into nothingness. Jaxon and Liam were all that remained.

“You knowingly divided this Family?” Allyn asked.

Jaxon met Allyn’s eye. His expression had gone cold. “I did what I had to do to hold the Family together.”

Allyn harnessed the anger inside him, ready to wield if needed. He’d never seen this kind of fury in Jaxon. He was worried the man might strike.

“It was for the best,” Jaxon continued.

“The best for what?” Allyn said. “Because it certainly isn’t the best for this Family.”

“The other Families won’t help us because we appear weak. We need symbols of strength, Allyn. And she is not it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Allyn said.

“I didn’t say it was right,” Jaxon said. “I said it was necessary. How do you expect us to attract other Families when we can’t even hold ourselves together?”

“You don’t see it, do you?” Liam asked. “You’re just like
them
. The other Families won’t help us because they’re worried about what the other Families will think, or that we’ll somehow drag them down. Now, we won’t even help our own because we’re concerned about what
they
think? That’s not the Family my father died to protect.”

Jaxon exhaled. He seemed to deflate, becoming less intimidating. Less menacing. More human. For the first time since Allyn had known him, he saw Jaxon as an equal. Magi or not, born leader or not, Jaxon was capable of making mistakes.

It might have been the weight of responsibility or the difference between their two cultures, but Jaxon had always seemed older than Allyn. It made him easy to look up to, easier to follow. Surprisingly, his mistakes made him easy to relate to, easier to empathize with. Allyn felt his anger dissipating. It was quickly replaced by embarrassment for having been, in some way, a part of Jaxon’s decision. He should have seen it. He should have said something. Allyn had seen Canary’s deteriorating mental state—they all had—but he’d kept his distance. If he’d been more proactive, or if he’d worked with her… but he hadn’t. And something dark had happened under his watch.

Resolve crystalized inside him—the need to fix the mistake and make sure it never happened again.

“We’ll make it right, Liam,” Allyn said. “But right now, we have the whole Family to think about. The FBI is coming, and they don’t want to play.”

“Agent Nolan is J.P. Niall?” Kendyl asked.

Allyn nodded, stifling a yawn. Dawn was only a few hours off, and already, the black sky was closer to a dark shade of purple. He sat with Kendyl and Liam on the front porch, happy to be away from Jaxon but struggling to keep warm. A worthy sacrifice. The man had crawled inside himself, ignoring Allyn and Liam as if they, too, were having nervous breakdowns. The cabin’s activity had slowed to a crawl as most of the inhabitants were resting, but Allyn couldn’t sleep. Not after the night he’d had.

Allyn didn’t know how many of the Family would continue to follow Jaxon, but for the moment, Jaxon continued issuing orders, and they kept following them. Brandt, Juniette, and the rest of the Hyland refugees were on their way with Jaxon to pick up a fleet of cargo vans. Allyn hadn’t asked what they were for, and Jaxon hadn’t offered the information.

Nolan had said they had less than a day before Maddox would arrive at the cabin with an assault team, but that was before Maddox had arrived at the diner.
Who knows how long we have now?
Chances were, it was a lot less time.

The impulsive thing to do would be to flee into the forest, but Allyn was still recovering from the day he had spent in its wintery embrace. That was at the bottom of the list of last resorts. Whatever Jaxon was planning, it still seemed to be their best option.

“I should have seen it,” Liam said.

“How?” Allyn asked.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” Liam said. “But it’s a code. J.P. Niall is a name in one of the diaries I transcribed—one of the diaries still in the library.”

“He wanted us to know it was him,” Allyn said.

“Yeah,” Liam said. “But why?”

“Maybe he wanted us to trust him,” Kendyl said.

“To what end?” Liam asked. “What did he want?”

“He’s searching for answers,” Allyn said. “He’s like me—a man stuck between two worlds.”

“He’s trying to find out where he belongs,” Kendyl said.

“Or find out what he is,” Allyn agreed.

“And now that he knows,” Liam said, “what’s he going to do?”

“That’s what confuses me the most,” Allyn said. “He wasn’t going to arrest me. He let me go, but his partner showed up right as we were leaving, and
he
had other ideas. Jaxon was going to killed him, but Nolan revealed himself and saved Maddox’s life.”

“Maddox saw him?” Liam asked.

Allyn nodded. “Yeah, and I don’t know what kind of ability he has, Liam, but he’s more than a magi. Nolan is one of us—a machinist.”