He sank into his desk chair. “I wish I could believe you, but we both know you’d run the moment we released your mother.”
“So what are you going to do?” My throat knotted like the design on my locket, as though the thirteen loops were tightening around my neck. “Lock me up with her? Kill us both? You can’t do that. We are getting closer to the tomb, and if you hurt her, you’ll never find out what we know and I’ll never agree to be your little princess.”
My father rested his chin in his hand and gazed past my shoulder, at a portrait of a man hanging on the wall. The man had my eyes, too. And as he looked at him, there was something in my father’s gaze that gave me hope.
I stepped into his line of sight. “Please. Alistair. Father—Dad. If you ever loved my mom—if you ever cared about me, even a little bit—let me earn my mom’s freedom. Worst case scenario, we’ll be out of your lives forever and you can go on ruling the Circle with whatever’s in the tomb. Just give me a chance.”
My father’s mouth drew into a hard line, then he sighed heavily. “Okay. Yes. Get us the tomb, and we’ll release your mother.”
Relief made my knees buckle, and I fell into a chair facing the desk.
“I trust you’ll smooth over any vicious rumors your Keeper friends might start about us as well,” he said.
“I’ll do anything.” It came out in a rush. “Just don’t hurt her. And please, release Jack. It’s not his fault—”
My father sighed. “Avery—” Someone knocked on the door. My father stood, buttoning his coat, and opened it a crack.
“It’s Lucien Dauphin, sir,” the guard said. “Something about a ludicrous new rumor involving your son and daughter. He came to offer his family’s help. Trying to make amends for that wedding stunt, if you ask me.”
No. That couldn’t be true. Stellan and Elodie and Luc wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to rescue me. Would they? I desperately wished the Saxons hadn’t confiscated my phone.
A walkie-talkie crackled. “They say he’s out front.”
“One of you, stay by the door,” my father snapped. “The rest, come with me.”
He glanced at me. “We’ll finish this conversation later.” He shut and locked the door behind him. The voices retreated.
No no no. I searched the room again for a way out. No windows, not so much as an air duct.
And then I heard a bump from the hallway, as if something had fallen against the door.
A light knock.
“Avery?” a voice whispered. “Are you in there?”
Elodie.
CHAPTER 21
“I’m here,” I called as loud as I dared. “I can’t get out. The guards have the keys.”
A few seconds later, jingling, and then the door swung open. Elodie held a huge key ring, and Stellan was a few steps away, dragging a crumpled guard away from the door. He grabbed a gun and a knife from the guard’s belt.
I shoved past Elodie and scanned the hall for more guards. “What are you guys doing here? They’ll kill you.”
“If we left you here, they’d kill Jackie and lock you up,” Elodie said. “We weren’t going to let Luc help, but he insisted.”
“I don’t think they’ll hurt him at the Saxons’ home,” Stellan said over his shoulder, “but he won’t hold them off for long.”
Elodie peered behind me. “Where’s Jack?”
“I don’t know.”
Elodie cursed and pocketed the key ring. “I’ll find him. You get out.”
I nodded, but paused. They still had my mom. I grabbed the notepad on Alistair’s desk and scribbled, I’ll find the tomb for you. Don’t hurt her.
“Come on,” Stellan said. “What are you doing?” I tossed the note back on the desk and turned just in time to see the guard rising up, a heavy chair in his hands arcing toward Stellan’s head.
“Watch out!” I screamed, and Stellan ducked, but not fast enough. The chair’s front leg cracked into his skull, and he stumbled to one knee.
The guard popped to standing and grabbed me, hauling me off down the hall. My legs dragged and I flailed, kicking back at his knee. “Let me go!” I screamed.
The guard clamped a hand over my mouth.
I found skin and ground my teeth together as hard as I could, until I tasted the metallic tang of blood.
He yelled and dropped me in a heap, cradling his hand, a mix of shock and contempt blazing in his eyes. “You little bitch—”
He didn’t get to finish. Stellan came up behind him and put a gun to his head.
“Don’t—” I said, and at the last second, Stellan took his finger off the trigger and smacked the side of the guard’s head with the butt of the gun. The guard fell next to me, and I saw two phones with blue rubberized cases sticking out of his pocket. My untraceable phone, and Jack’s, too. I grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag across my chest, and Stellan hauled me to my feet. I spat the remnants of blood out of my mouth, wiping my tongue like I could get rid of the whole idea.
“Your head,” I said. Blood matted Stellan’s blond hair.
“It’s fine.” He shook the cobwebs from what was obviously a pretty bad head injury, then pointed his gun down the hall. We were alone.
We hurried to a door, and it opened to a pitch-black stairwell. Stellan grabbed my hand, and I felt slick blood across his palm. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I said.
“Yes. Go.”
I clung to Stellan with one hand and the banister with the other, only stumbling once as we made our way down three flights of dark stairs until we were on level ground again. “There’s got to be a door,” Stellan whispered, and we felt the walls with our free hands, all smooth, no handles or doorjambs.