She Who Sees Through Darkness

Part Thirteen

The seatbelt icon flipped on. The plane pivoted. Light flashed outside the window. Is that a mountain?

A second circle confirmed it. A ridge of mountains rose from the tundra. The one at the end of the chain was dotted with well-lit buildings emerging seamlessly from the slopes. A wall wrapped around the mountain's base. Tiny lights sparkled from houses just outside the walls.

How did they build that? They'd need underground tunnels to connect all the buildings on the mountain. How did they move that much rock without giving themselves away? They'd have needed to get permits and host inspections. Had a geomancer been involved? They'd cleared out some spaces below Indigo's headquarters. But could they move that much rock?

It struck her, suddenly, that she didn't know. Such uses of power were so strictly regulated and concealed that no unnecessary personnel were permitted to witness them. She'd spent her childhood watching Shawn carefully experiment with his power—lighting candles, making shadow puppets, baking her cakes. It had all stopped after his first few missions. Magic belonged in the shadows. It wasn't compatible with modern society. How different the world would be without Indigo.

The plane touched down. Katrina searched her memories. If they have half as many Descendants as I think they might, they'll have an aeromancer waiting. Like clairvoyance was the secondary skill of pyromancers, aeromancers possessed telepathy: the ability to view the thoughts of others.

Tires bumped down on the tarmac. Cold wind washed in as the doors were opened.

Katrina seized a glance at the mountain: shallow dustings of snow, brown stone where the light touched, a disk-shaped building emerging higher up that blocked out the stars. Dr. Harper guided her and Kyle into a Hummer, and Borghild drove them through the gate in the fifteen-foot-high wall. The muddy road wrapped around an army-style obstacle course and lead deep into a garage the size of her whole house.

Kyle stiffened as the garage doors closed. She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"I'm here with you," she said. It was all she could say.

The Hummer stopped. A man in heavy white snowgear opened the door. "I'm Captain O'Brien. Head security officer here at Wyvernhall." He was tall, white, around fifty, with hair like straw and weathered features.

"Captain, take them to the Eyrie," Dr. Harper commanded. "Run them through the physical evaluation."

Three security officers in white gear escorted them from the garage into a network of underground tunnels. The cold walls closed around them. Katrina shivered. She expected Kyle to make a snide comment or demand a coat. Nothing came.

They lead them to a bank of elevators. The whole group squeezed into one. Letters marked the buttons. Captain O'Brien pressed 'E', and the car shot upwards, rising quickly. The tightness in Katrina's shoulders dissipated as she locked her eyes on the closed doors. Another morning, another elevator ride.

The doors opened on a rock tunnel leading to a stairway. Lightbulbs dangled from wires taped to the ceiling.

"When was this built?" she asked

"The tunnels and other buildings were constructed in the sixties," said Captain O'Brien. "The Eyrie was built recently."

"Why do you call it that?"

"Cantilevered." Kyle said, his voice regaining some strength. "An eyrie is an eagle's nest, right? Something you build in the sky."

"I'm not the one in charge of naming things," said O'Brien.

The guards lead them up to the Eyrie's forth floor, which could have nearly contained a football field. Katrina had vaguely expected a room covered in weapon racks and work-out equipment, but the room was instead full of crates and boxes, the walls smelling of new paint. Someone had assembled a shooting range at one end of the hall. Kyle's eyes lit up when O'Brien handed over his pistol and opened a crate to reveal a dozen pairs of earmuffs and goggles. "Dr. Harper ordered me to assess your marksmanship."

They donned the equipment. Kyle's smile nearly stretched off his face as he pivoted and fired five shots into the center of the target.

"You're very good," O'Brien noted.

"Made the Olympic team." Kyle arched an eyebrow, cockily. "You hunt?"

"Some. Give your friend a chance."

Kyle passed her the gun. A bulls-eye had been drawn in silver Sharpie on the grip. Is that a spell? Is he a witch? Did he touch me? Witches could read auras, which gave them much more generalized information than telepathy, but were often more accurate. But O'Brien's gloves were still on, and if he was a Descendant, that meant he was refraining from magic use. It took skin contact to use magic on another person, and he didn't strike her as a very touchy guy. They'd send in a trained aeromancer to do that job.

And if she failed to convince him, she might have to stand at the other end of the range for target practice.

She donned the goggles, braced herself, and shot. Her bullets all hit the target, with three in the center and two on the edge. Damn it. Kyle often said he sunk into a trance staring down a barrel. Katrina wasn't sure what a trance even felt like.

"How's that?" she asked, handing the gun back to O'Brien. He reloaded.

"This is a baseline assessment. Not an evaluation." He nodded at the woman who'd come up with him. "Dorcas, bring the targets to Dr. Harper's lab. You—"

"What the hell?" Kyle shouted, and sprinted to one of the windows on the east-facing side of the room. "Katrina! You've got to see this!"

She hurried over. The security officers laughed.

A great grey shape plummeted down past the window. Borghild? she thought, but even a valkyrie's wings weren't that long.

"Out there," Kyle whispered, his voice hoarse and quiet, like he wanted to not wake himself up. He pointed outside, his hand trembling.

Three grey shapes came together and split apart in the distance. Birds, she thought, but something was off. They didn't move like birds. The shapes were agile, their long membranous wings curling and changing shape as they darted around in the sky. Skin flaps on the ends of their tails acted as rudders. Their long necks wound around one another as they connected, snapping at each other's shoulders. The talons at the end of their long legs raked at each other's bellies. Their bodies were cat-sized, with wingspans up to seven feet long.

Dragons.

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