“That’s funny. I was under the impression there was a distinct hierarchy in the Order.”
The girl who just drank my milk pouted. She said nothing.
“And as we understand it, Xiomara Magoro is the Head of your Order, no?”
“Yes, but—”
“So we were following instructions,” I cut her off. “At least until you were attacked. At which point Damien here broke protocol in revealing himself. Which as much as I hate to admit it, is exactly what I would’ve done.”
Damien looked especially pleased by the statement. I wanted to kick him.
In the meantime Serena was looking me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time. But somehow I got the strange feeling she was seeing something familiar, too.
“So which one of you is with the Order?”
“Neither one of us, I’m afraid.”
She looked perplexed, and I knew why. The Hallowed Order had always been shrouded in myth and secrecy. The organization had survived for more than six centuries by never mentioning itself outside of its own inner circle. Except in very rare instances, such as this one.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “I’ve been sitting in that hotel for days with both thumbs up my ass. Waiting for you to show up. Waiting for anyone to tell me what to do.”
“We weren’t ready,” I said.
“And you’re ready now?”
“Actually no. You’re early. We’re not prepared.”
She sighed and rubbed at her temples. I imagined whatever she and Damien were doing together had tired her out. Actually, I didn’t have to imagine. I already knew.
“So who were those guys who jumped me?” she asked. “You said their names. Like you knew them.”
“One of them was Boone Hammond.”
“The one you threw across the alley,” said Damien pointedly. Serena’s gaze shifted downward as he made the statement. I cast him a questioning glance and he mouthed the word ‘later’.
“The other was a man named Christophe Dupont. A real asshole. He’s their leader. Sort of.”
Sort of…
Images of Karessa floated to mind, emerald green eyes lost in a sea of flowing coppery hair. I fought back memories of being lost for hours in that hair. Of holding her in my arms.
Of pressing myself warmly against that smooth porcelain skin…
Karessa, the actual leader.
Our actual leader.
No, a voice in my head said sternly. Not anymore…
“There was a third guy too,” Serena was saying. “A real big one. I lost him quickly though, when they all started chasing me.”
“That would be Lionel,” laughed Damien. “No big feat outrunning Lionel.”
Serena wasn’t in the mood to laugh. Neither was I. What Damien had done was beyond foolish. It was sheer recklessness. Selfishness too, although she couldn’t know why.
I looked her over again, and our eyes met. They were a beautiful green, flecked with brown.
Almost like Karessa’s.