Chapter Thirty-One
Quinn
“Astrid,” Demetria says from her position in the foyer. She’s been waiting for them to arrive. If she’s annoyed that they lingered in the driveway, she doesn’t reveal it. With her, it’s hard to tell. Everything is an act—or a fantasy. Reality is lost somewhere in between. “Darling, I am so sorry to hear about the terrible incident at the old school. I had such exciting plans for that place! But once again, Kincade got there first. But regardless of all of that, I’m glad to see you healthy.”
“Thank you, Demetria,” Astrid says. She’s got on her game face for sure. Pleasant, grateful. He had no idea she could pull off such niceties. Her outfit, though, looks like some kind of bad-ass warrior, and Quinn is thankful she’s on their side.
“And you must be Quinn,” she says, stepping close. Her eyes linger on his bruised face and bloody lip. “Who did this to your handsome face?”
“Just a little mishap at the gym.”
She frowns with worry and touches his cheek. It takes everything in him not to jerk away, but Astrid watches him carefully, willing him to behave. “Next time be more careful. I don’t like to see violence like this.”
“I’ll try.”
“Demetria,” she says, drawing the woman’s attention away. “Your home is lovely.”
“It’s taken me years to get it exactly the way I like it.” She looks around the enormous room filled with flowers and gilded mirrors. A huge staircase sits behind her going to the next level, and a massive crystal chandelier hangs from the vaulted ceiling. The jewels are pink and purple. “It’s a bit much, I admit. But it’s perfect for charity events and hosting important guests.” She smiles. “Like you.”
Owen squirms uncomfortably and Quinn tries to squelch his anger at him for his last-minute freak out. He shouldn’t judge. He gets it. They all carry baggage. Their relationships are new. Trust is hard to come by when they’ve been told all their lives they’re alone and their abilities must be a secret.
Demetria leads the way, gesturing for them to follow her into the dining room, giving him a chance to assess their hostess.
Demetria is dressed like a princess, down to the jewels in her hair. As much as he was against taking the altered PD-1 earlier, he’s now glad he did. This place smells like a trap—a glittery nightmare, and it’s possible they may have to fight their way out of the house at the end of the night. It’s a paranoid thought, but he can’t help but notice the way her eyes linger over both he and Owen.
Especially Owen.
“I designed the house after my favorite movies. Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Sleeping Beauty.” Astrid nods in appreciative approval. Quinn has no real idea what she means other than everything in the house is over-the-top and looks straight out of a fairytale.
“Owen.” She pauses until he falls in step with her. Then she links his arm with his. “Did you tell everyone we’re old friends?”
“Aren’t we all old friends?” he replies, with a smirk. “But, yes, I told them we’d met.”
She smiles wide. So weird. So creepy. “Owen and I reconnected years ago after the tragic death of his aunt. He was a sad soul back then, even more than during our childhood. I should have known he’d find his way back to you, Astrid.”
“Yeah, that was a strange coincidence.”
The dining room is as ornate as the rest of the house. Soft music carries through the air and candlelight flickers in silver holders on the table. A familiar figure waits for them at the door.
Draco.
“Draco, you’ve met Astrid, obviously. These are her partners, Owen and Quinn.”
The man acts as though they’ve never met—never sparred and beaten the crap out of one another. He certainly doesn’t act as though he’s given Quinn a busted lip, provided them intel on his boss, or supplied them with the one way to overpower her.
“Mr. Perfect,” Astrid says, smiling at the man. Both Owen and Quinn stare.
Mr. Who?
“Astrid,” he says, taking her gloved hand and giving it a squeeze. “Nice to see you again.” He nods at the men in greeting.
“Well, I don’t know about you but I’m famished. Please sit,” Demetria says, pointing out chairs for each of them. Astrid and Draco on one side. Owen and Quinn on the other. Demetria herself at the head of the table. Servants appear and set a bowl of soup before them. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know why I’ve called you here.”
“Yes,” Astrid says, placing her linen napkin in her lap. Quinn can’t help but notice she’s removed her gloves. “We’re dying to know.”
“As you know, Kincade has escalated his activities in the Swamp—including nearly killing you. It’s unacceptable, ruthless behavior.”
“We have no actual evidence he’s behind these fires,” Quinn says. “Well, there is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Astrid thinks—”
“I don’t think, Quinn. I know.”
He nods. “Astrid says the man that started the fire is one of us. A survivor.”
Demetria and Draco share a surprised look.
“Who?”
“Devin,” Astrid says. “He calls himself Blaze.”
Recognition lights in her eyes. “He told you this.”
“Yes.” She considers. “Well, close enough. He seemed quite proud to be an arsonist and for his abilities to be used as a ’weapon.’”
Demetria tents her fingers on the table, hovering them over the steaming bowl of soup. “I was certain Devin died that day. In fact, I was certain he was the one that started the fire and killed himself in the process.”
“The fire wasn’t started by someone in the house, Demetria. It was started by someone affiliated with the project. Someone that wanted to kill all of us,” Astrid tells her. “Devin is alive and is proudly burning down all your property for Kincade.”
The news seems to rattle her—anger her more than Quinn would expect. Maybe the fact that another one of her Lost Boys got away from her is too much to handle. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like the dark glint in her eye that flickers for a moment before she composes herself.
“I don’t like fighting with these people. Not in this dark and dirty way. I believe in beauty, love, and light. I want the best for this city, you all know that.”
“We’re trying to find a way to stop them. This is why we came here tonight,” Quinn says, but there’s no mistaking the mania that has taken over.
She ignores him and says, “What we need to do is have something that will bring us all together. The rich, the poor, the Swamp, the city. Tie our bonds. I was wrong before, pushing people apart. What would be better is proving to the city that the Swamp is valuable. The Harbor Line is for everyone!” She gasps and everyone at the table, including Draco, freezes. “A parade. Wait! Not just a parade—a lantern parade!”
“What?” Draco asks, thrown off his composure.
“Yes, darling, a lantern parade! A grand event that will show our support for the people on the Harbor Line. We’ll have a float and thousands of lights and lanterns. The whole community can be involved.” Her eyes light up at the idea.
“I’m sorry,” Owen says, speaking for the first time at the table. “You think a parade will stop Kincade.”
“Yes!” her eyes twinkle. “A beautiful, magical parade. We’ll start by the water and end at the Elite facility. Everyone can join—bringing their own lanterns or lights. WIND-E can provide supplies for the children. Your gym can be a sponsor! We’ll show Kincade we won’t back down. I’ll invite Mayor Steed and all the school children. We’ll have floats and a marching band. It will be truly magnificent.”
“Are you sure this won’t be too taxing?” Draco asks. Thankfully, because everyone else is too stunned to speak. “Putting on a parade with the rest of your schedule will be a big undertaking.”
Astrid and Owen nod in agreement.
She sighs. “You’re right, it will be a lot, but I don’t think I have any choice. And all of you will help! We must bring hope and happiness. I hate all this darkness and evil.” She frowns at Astrid. “Like your dark suit. Wouldn’t it be better to have something brighter? Like white or maybe purple?”
“I, uh,” Astrid looks around the table for help. No one offers assistance. “White would get dirty and purple is so, um, very purple-y.”
“I see,” she says, obviously not understanding at all. “Well, we’re doing it. You’ll ride on my float and the Mayor will have no choice but to grant me the zoning permits to rebuild.”
“So that’s your goal?” Owen says, speaking for the first time since they sat down. “Zoning permits and winning over the Mayor?”
Draco’s face has paled. Quinn can’t help but notice that he watches his boss carefully. He also notices that Astrid has shifted her attention to him and that her expression is identical to his.
“Yes, I’ll win over the Mayor,” she says, picking up her spoon. She dips it in and gets a heaping spoonful of soup. “And when Kincade retaliates, I’ll send you in to destroy him.”