Page 8 of Shadow Warrior
The clock ticked.
Aidan and his uncle had left for their run five minutes ago, but two knights stood in the foyer by the basement door, chatting and blocking our path.
Agitation burned through my veins. Every minute we stood here doing nothing was another minute wasted.
Carlo stepped into the foyer through a side door and spotted the guards. He scanned the foyer until he saw us. The angle meant he had a better view of us than the guards did.
He nodded and then headed toward the knights. “What’s up, guys?”
The knights broke off their conversation to look across at him.
“Cadet,” one of them greeted.
“Not for long, I hope,” Carlo said. “Soon, I’ll be one of you. Hey, maybe we can hang out? You guys can tell me all your amazing mist tales. Although I got to tell you, I’ve got a few of my own. In fact, what are you guys doing now? We could hang out.”
The knights exchanged a quick glance, and then one of them patted Carlo on the back.
“Love your enthusiasm. Another time. We have duties we need to get to.”
They brushed past him and breezed up the stairs and out of view.
Carlo turned our way and winked.
“Yeah, that works.” Devon stepped out of the shadows. “Chat them away.”
Carlo shrugged. “I got the gift of gab. I can use it to entice or repel. It’s a superpower.”
Despite the knot in my stomach, I couldn’t help but smile. The gift of gab really was Carlo’s forte.
“Come on,” Devon said. “Before someone else comes along.”
“I’ll keep watch,” Carlo said. He tapped the radio at his waist. “I’ll buzz you if someone comes.”
Devon’s hand went briefly to the radio clipped to his belt. Then he pushed open the door and led us into the gloom beyond.
Stone steps descended, lit only by lamps hooked into the wall. We moved quickly, quietly. What if someone was down there?
Devon paused on the bottom step.
A small four-by-four area led to another door. He sniffed the air, and I focused with my senses, listening. Silence broken only by a low humming sound drifted through the door.
Devon pulled a key from his pocket and then crossed the floor and unlocked the door.
The coppery-sweet smell of blood hit me, followed by a mixture of odors. Mint and musk and Harmon.
I pushed past Devon, eager to get inside. Needing to find my friend.
Cells lined both sides of the chamber—old-school iron and steel built into the rock. But only one that I could see was occupied.
Harmon’s large frame occupied the tiny space. He was sitting on a bench, head bowed, but it whipped up as I got closer, his eyes flared an eerie green, and my step faltered.
“Harmon?”
He stood slowly and approached the bars, his head cocked to one side. “Indigo?” He blinked, and the green light winked out, leaving me staring into his warm brown eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. You need to go. Now.”
I ran my gaze over him, looking for wounds, signs of torture. He was clean. Dressed in a black shirt and black pants. He looked unharmed. Untouched.
“I had to see you.” I gripped the bars and stepped closer. “I thought you were dead.”
