The Stolen (26 page)

“It means she is the natural leader of this pride. That her mother was probably the previous leader and that she, like her mother, fulfills all of the traditional requirements: loyalty, bravery, compassion, fair-mindedness, and a willingness to come up with solutions to seemingly impossible situations.” Kim pulled herself together a bit, falling into her usual didactic role. “It means that her ka is true and noble and that she would do anything to defend her friends and family. It means she has nine lives—or seven now, as she said. And other … less definable traits.”

Paul and Amy nodded mutely, and even Alyec seemed interested in the subject, like it was news to him.

“It means Alyec is no longer next in line to be leader,” Kim said carefully.

“That's okay; too much responsibility,” Alyec said, trying to be humorous—but it came off sounding bleak. Even he wasn't untouched by the events of the night.

“From what you've said, it sounds like that Sergei guy should no longer be the leader,” Paul said slowly. “That it really should be Chloe.”

Kim nodded mutely and looked back down at her hot chocolate.

“Did you see those two old freaks?” Amy spoke up, voice wavering. “It was like Mr. Rezza and Sergei were off in their own little world…. Did you see how he
treated Brian? Like either
one
of them is likely to give up power.
Ever
.”

“I have never seen violence like that before,” Kim said into her mug, then looked up, wide-eyed and shocked, like a child. “I've seen fights and duels, but …”

Alyec nodded, leaning on his hand. “I know. I thought it would be
fun
or something.”

Paul and Amy looked at each other. Paul reached out his hand and squeezed hers.

“We didn't end up doing
any
thing to help her,” Amy finally said, frustrated. “We were supposed to be doing all this detective legwork crap, and none of it mattered….”

“If it wasn't for your idea with the walkie-talkie, we never would have found her,” Alyec pointed out.

“We were there.” Kim looked up at all of them. “Supporting her. I think that sometimes, that's enough.”

“One thing's for certain,” Alyec added, stirring his coffee with a claw. “Her life is going to get even more complicated and a lot more dangerous from now on….”

Chloe and her
mom sat on the couch, mostly silent. It had taken over an hour just for Chloe to tell her mother the story and another hour for Mrs. King to ask the inevitable questions.

Mrs. King got out some expensive scotch and downed a shot. She offered Chloe some, but Chloe declined, wanting cocoa instead. Mrs. King made it for her, going through the movements robotically.

“Oh, here's your earring,” Chloe remembered, taking it out of her pocket. It gleamed dully in the light. She turned it over in her fingers, staring at it. “It's so random…. Such a tiny chance that it fell, and that Brian found it.”

“Give your mother a
little
credit,” the older woman said with a wry smile, indicating how
both
of her ears were bare. “Every time they moved me, I dropped another piece of jewelry or whatever, hoping it might provide
someone
a clue as to where I was. I think I'm out
about three thousand dollars' worth of the stuff.” She handed Chloe her cocoa and shook her head.

Chloe smiled—it was still too soon to grin.
I really do have the coolest mother
. She couldn't imagine Mrs. Chun or Amy's mom thinking to do something like that. But her face darkened again as she thought about moms and the other thing she had to tell hers.

“I saw my biological mother,” she said after they had been silent for a while. “When I was, uh, dead.”

Mrs. King looked up at her through slightly glazed eyes—dim from the evening, not the drink. There were bruises and scrapes on the side of her head where the gun had been jammed against it. Her usually pixie-perfect hair was tousled, and her glasses were bent. Chloe wished she didn't have to see her mother this way—she might have thought her mom was a perfectionist bitch sometimes, but seeing her like this was almost unbearable.

“What did she say?” her mother asked after a moment.

“She said that she was proud of me and that I should go back and rescue you—that you were my real mother, too.”

It was a difficult thing to say, but Chloe was glad she had.

Even when her mom began to cry and hug her.

They finally said good night, somehow both knowing it was safe for now. Chloe had meant every word she had said about killing whoever tried to attack her home
again, and the Mai seemed to respect her now. And the Tenth Blade had something to think about.

She wearily climbed the stairs to her room, wanting desperately the hot, cleansing water of a bath but too exhausted to seriously consider the effort of running the water or waiting for it to fill.

Chloe sat on her bed, empty of all thought, trying to kick off her sneakers without bending over to untie them.

She was startled by a tap at the window.

Brian was there, his frame obscuring a surprisingly clear night full of stars. Chloe felt her stomach lurch for a moment when she saw him. There was blood on his face and hands; where he tapped, an ugly dark blotch remained.

Chloe leapt up and pushed open the window.

“Brian!” she cried. He was holding his shoulder, like there was a wound there.

A bullet wound
, she realized, catching a faint odor of metal and powder. It smelled like poison to her, like death.

“Hey.” He smiled weakly. “I'm all right. Nothing too serious.”

“Come in—I can get some bandages….” He was balanced on the outside of the sill as neatly as if he were Mai, and she was afraid he would fall if he lost too much blood.

He shook his head. “I can't. I just came to say goodbye.”

She didn't understand; it was all over. The good guys had won—and he was a good guy.

“Why? What's the—?”

“I'm a dead man,” he said wearily. “Richard is basically calling a fatwa on me—as a traitor to the Order. And my father refuses to protect me. You never quit the Order while you're alive.”

“But you had no choice! You told me! Your father made you.”

He shrugged. “It doesn't matter. I said my vows when I was fourteen—and now I'm a wanted man. I have to disappear.”

Finally Chloe began to cry, streams of silent tears coursing their way down her cheeks.

“Brian, it's not
fair
. You were just trying to
help
me. It's all my fault….”

“
Nothing
is your fault, Chloe.” He reached in and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. “Nothing is your fault. You're good, kind, and smart…. I have no doubt that you'll make a great leader to your people.” He looked her seriously in the eye. “But you know that you're a top to-kill on the Order's list, right?”

“I know,” she said sadly.

“My hanging out here would only put you in more danger, Chloe.” He took his hands off hers and began to stand. “I love you,” he said, and kissed the glass near her face.

She leaned forward and kissed him back, the cold glass between them keeping him safe from her.

Then he fell into the night, disappearing into the city.

Chloe covered her face with her hands and wept.

Sergei sat at
his desk, hands clasped under his chin as though he were praying. He had run a claw through his hair, fixing it, but there was blood on his cuffs from when he had taken down one of the younger members of the Order, pulling at the tendons in the boy's neck while closing his fingers.

It had been a long time since Sergei had personally gotten involved in a fight. He had missed it—there was something incredibly stirring and visceral about protecting your people with your own body. That was one of the signs of a real leader.

A real leader knew what to do during peacetime as well, knew how to manage a modern bureaucracy to gather his people safely, to work the system and reunite families and keep them all employed and safe and hidden. He had done exactly that for the past fifteen years or so.
I am a leader
, he told himself,
and no one is going to take that away. Certainly not some little girl from San Francisco
.

He opened a drawer, using his claw to undo the lock, and took out a small, nondescript gray cell phone. He dialed a number with his thumb, claws receding.

“Hello, Alexander? First, let me offer my condolences,” he said with a chuckle, “since everyone seems to believe that you are dead.

“In other business, I thought we could help each other out again. Remember the pride leader's daughter? The one you, ah,
took care of
with my …
assistance
? It turns out she has a sister, Chloe King. Yes, you've met—Yes, she's the One….

“And I can help you find her. So you can take care of
her
as well.”

Chloe King has

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Check out this exciting excerpt from the second book in the
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FALL

Kerry had just shut the journal and replaced the leather thong that held it closed when Sonya and Dougie entered, arm in arm, laughing at some joke Kerry wasn't privy to. “Hey, Kerry,” Dougie said by way of greeting. “That doesn't look like any textbook I've ever seen. What is it?”

“It's an old journal,” Kerry replied, not wanting to reveal any more than that. Dougie annoyed her—she considered him a typical frat boy but without the frat, all about using his college years to drink and party and have a good time, knowing that at the end of it his degree and his father's connections would guarantee him a good job even if he never set foot in a classroom. She didn't quite know what Sonya saw in him, but then she didn't know Sonya well enough to speculate.