Enemies(9)

If someone crosses you, Bjorn said, fury oozing out of his essence, you must break them. Like she did with Winter’s lap dogs. I could sense Eve and Bastian bristle. You crush your enemies, drive them before you—

Enough, Conan, Zack said. That’s not how Sienna does things.

Maybe she should, Bjorn said, and I caught the seeping sense of smug satisfaction. If she did, you might not be dead—

Because Old Man Winter would fear her enough to not try what he did? Zack seethed in my head, and even in his ghostly form, the tension wracking the body he no longer had was almost palpable.

There was a ripple of amusement from Bjorn. If she had been strong enough to begin with, willing to do what was necessary, Winter would never have thought she needed the lesson he gave her.

“And I’d be fortunate enough to not have you in my head,” I said pointedly to Bjorn, stealing some of his joy, “because I’d have killed you deader than meatloaf in our last battle—which would mean you wouldn’t be here now.”

“Now arriving, Russell Square.” The voice cut through the fog again, and I staggered out of my seat. I looked around through the dim and saw people watching me, wondering if I’d been talking out loud. I walked unsteadily to the doors as they slid open, and wondered how long I’d been on the train. I couldn’t even remember the last stop or the one before it.

Losing your mind? Gavrikov whispered underneath everything.

“I’m not sure.” I held my hands up to the sides of my head, as though I could clear it by doing what I’d been doing for the last few minutes, but I was failing miserably.

Makes sense, he said quietly. It is the last thing you have to lose, isn’t it?

I staggered up the platform, large tiles covering the walls in a strange mosaic pattern. The platform was narrower than I expected, roughly the size of the train, and I followed the glaring sign that said, “Way Out,” with an arrow pointing to the left.

Little Doll isn’t feeling so well, Wolfe said in a voice almost like a chirp. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the spin that had taken it over. I wondered if I was ill but only dimly, as though my brain weren’t working at its full capacity.

Are you all right? Zack’s voice was filled with concern. I could almost feel his hand on my wrist, trying to help me up.

“I’m fine,” I said, taking the steps two and three at a time as I climbed to where a crowd waited in front of an elevator. Signage told me that the “Lifts”—the Brits and their damned word differences; it’s an elevator—were on reduced capacity. The crowd filled the area, and my eyes veered to the right, where a sign announced that there were 179 steps to the surface. It also suggested not climbing them, making me wonder what the hell they were there for if not to climb.

I shook my head again, trying to ignore the swirl of conversation that was now happening behind my eyes as they all talked, talked, talked. It was like I wasn’t even there, that all the people currently occupying my brain were having a meeting and I, the one who actually owned the body, wasn’t even in attendance.

Something is very wrong with her, Zack said in concern.

Under stress, Bjorn said, not concerned but wary. She’s—

Weak, Kappler said. She’ll crack, just watch. I can’t believe I was killed by this whelp, she is so pathetic—

She’s tough enough to kill you, Bastian said. She’ll get through this. It’s a difficult time—

All difficult times, Wolfe said, relishing my pain. The stairs thudded under my feet, but I barely noticed them. I started to run, my bag slapping at my sides. The walls of the spiral staircase were closing around me, the tiles a mosaic of dim colors, of darkness spinning around, as though they were lit up and not just some dull tiles from the 1980s or earlier. The world spun as I went up the staircase, and my reflexes allowed me to dodge around the one person in front of me, though I heard a gasp from someone.

I needed air, needed to breathe. The world was tight, and I hit my head on the ceiling as I took a high step. I didn’t bother to check, but I knew a normal person wouldn’t have done that. Even I wouldn’t have done that, not unless I was jumping or doing something I shouldn’t. My chest felt tight, my mouth felt dry, and I wondered what Omega had done to me, if anything. I hurried up the steps, and the taste of the meals I’d eaten on the airplane came back on me, acid reflux, in the back of my throat, gagging me. I kept on running until the stairs emptied into a hallway that I followed into the main station. I leapt over the gates that separated me from freedom, not worried about giving them my ticket, just trying to get away from the confining space, the world closing in around me.