A Game of Risk by Bella Forrest
My father spurred on the motorcycle at full speed along the track. On arriving at the wide hole in the ground, we slipped off the vehicle. He shoved it aside, discarding it in some bushes. It was clear that he had no further use for it.
Then the two of us leapt into the abyss.
It was hard to describe the first time I had leapt through one of these portals. At least, the first time that I remembered leaping through one. The utter astonishment that such things even existed in our world—portals to other dimensions—and the fall, the vacuum, sucking you down like a hungry beast, the smoky tunnel walls, the black canvas speckled with stars beyond. Utterly bizarre. I doubted I had the imagination to even dream of such things.
We shot out the other side, on the borders of the IBSI’s Bermuda base. My father began to jog toward the entrance, and I moved to match his speed. Discarding our gas masks, we overtook a crowd of hunters heading toward the base. My father was in a hurry. He was always in a hurry. Wasting time for him was like being drained of blood. He didn’t waste a second of his day. Never had. Not even on me.
But that sure suited me now.
We entered the compound and headed directly for the landing strip, where half a dozen helicopters were parked—all without pilots. My father led me to the smallest, fastest one and yanked open the door. We climbed inside and shut ourselves in before moving to the cockpit.
It was clear he had no intention of waiting for a pilot. My father was a master at many things, and aircraft navigation was one of them. I didn’t even know how he’d found the time to master the things he did. His brain seemed superhuman.
I knew a little about helicopter navigation, and I concentrated on helping him prepare to launch. Soon we were in flight, soaring over the ocean, on our way to Chicago.
As soon as we landed, my father wanted to head straight back to his apartment. To his office. He had calls to make, he said. I was more than happy with this turn of events. My apartment was just next door from his. Rather than house me in the main residential building, he’d set me up in the apartment of his high-level associate, who was holding a conference in New York at present.
The two of us entered our respective apartments. I set down my bag in my bedroom before moving to the wall that separated my father’s quarters from mine. I held my breath, straining to listen. I should’ve known better. The walls separating the various apartments were practically soundproof. But the walls within the apartments themselves were another matter… Those were regular cement walls, from what I’d gathered so far.
In any case, relying on eavesdropping would be a losing strategy. Grace’s father had seen those FOEBA files. He’d seen them on my father’s computer, in his Chicago office. The office that was about thirty feet from where I stood right now. My father had a number of laptops—including lighter ones that he used specifically for travel. But his main powerhouse computer was kept in a hidden safe in his office. I was certain that was the computer on which Benjamin had spotted the files. That was the computer that contained my mother’s secret. Details of the Bloodless antidote. The key to Grace’s survival.
I have to get my hands on that laptop.
Lawrence
Fortunately, finding an excuse to hang around in my father’s office was not too difficult. Since I’d woken up from the coma, he had even asked me to sit with him so that he could talk to me while he worked, bring me up to speed on the various workings of the IBSI that I needed to be aware of.
I waited for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately spring an offer of help on him so soon after we had landed in case he thought it weird.
After about fifteen minutes, I left my apartment and pressed the buzzer outside his door.
He was on the phone as he opened it. He let me inside, leaving me to close the door as he moved through his apartment toward his office. I followed him, and on entering the room, my eyes fell on his laptop set up at his desk. His master laptop. My father was speaking rapidly—engaging in a discussion on distribution of the IBSI’s firearms. He sank into his chair and stared at his computer screen.
He leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling as he continued to talk.
I took a seat opposite him, trying to adopt a casual posture while I waited for him to finish his call.
“Yeah?” he said, on hanging up, his eyes trained on his phone screen.
“Well,” I said, “I figured I could make myself useful. Anything I can do around here?”
He tore his eyes away from his phone and glanced at a large stack of papers on his desk.
“Yes, actually,” he said. “One of our high-level ambassadors in Russia is under suspicion for overcharging us a gross amount for his expenses.” He pushed the wad of papers toward me.
“Those are all of them, for the past month, according to him. Go through them and flag anything that looks fishy.”
“Okay,” I muttered, scanning the first page. My father busied himself with his phone again, and then a minute later, he was talking to somebody else about establishing a new facility in Australia.
I tried to make myself look busy. Of course, I couldn’t concentrate on the task.
As my father remained seated in his swivel chair behind his laptop, I couldn’t help but glance at his face while his attention was elsewhere.
As I stared at him, it felt surreal. I just… couldn’t believe that this was my father. I couldn’t believe the lengths that I was having to go to, simply to do what was right. The lengths that he was willing to go to in order to conceal something that could potentially help millions of people.
How could you be like this, Dad?
Even now, I couldn’t help but wish that there was a way to get through to him. I wished I believed that he wasn’t as much of a monster as I feared.
My throat tightened.
Dammit. How could you have killed your wife?
I averted my eyes to the papers quickly as he noticed my gaze on him.
He is what he is. Everybody makes choices in life. He made his, and now I have to make mine.
I made more of an effort to appear like I was working. Bloody hell. These high-level executives sure knew how to rack up bills. Fifteen thousand dollars, just on travel expenses, over a week and a half?
I wondered what my father’s expenses were. Though he’d never struck me as the type of person to frivolously waste. Although he obviously had money, material objects did not interest him much. The only thing that really got him going in life was his work. His criminally destructive work.
What was actually going on in his head? Did he really wake up each day with the intent to be evil? Or was there something in him that made him believe he truly was doing something good? Could he actually think that his actions were for the benefit of mankind?
How did he live with himself?
My father stood up abruptly as he was still in the middle of a conversation.
And then I realized that he was heading to the bathroom. I waited until he’d exited the office, walked into the hallway, and I heard the bathroom door click. Even while inside the toilet, he continued to talk on the phone.
Glancing furtively at the CCTV camera in either corner of the room, I knew what I was about to do was risky. If somebody was watching it right now from the central security office, they would notice my strange behavior. But what choice did I have? I didn’t know when I would get the opportunity to find his computer alone like this… unlocked! I didn’t know how long he was going to be in the loo either.
I stood up as fast as I could without scraping my chair and hurried around the table to face the laptop screen.
His inbox, choked with unopened emails, filled the screen. I navigated immediately to the laptop’s search function and began browsing for the files. I typed in FOEBA and any other keyword that I could possibly think of that might dredge the files from the ocean of other documents he held on this computer.
But nothing was coming up.
My palms sweating, I ran a search for the uncommon
The blood drained from my face when, still, nothing came up. Damn. Where are the other files? Had he really deleted them from his computer?
The toilet flushed. As the bathroom door opened, I was forced to hurriedly bring back up his inbox and race back to my own seat, before busying myself again in the pile of paperwork and receipts.
My heart was beating rapidly as my father reentered the room. His loud voice filling my ears, he retook his seat behind his laptop.
I cursed silently. I had been so sure that I would find those files on his computer. If they weren’t there, then where were they? I couldn’t help but feel that he would have destroyed the USB stick where the files had originated from.
I tried to calm my racing nerves.
Okay. So they’re not here. I just have to keep thinking. I have to keep thinking.
Hold on, Grace… Hold on.
Victoria
I remained in a daze for several minutes after I had lost sight of Bastien in the ocean. Even Mona and Brock fell into radio silence.
Why did Bastien yell at me to stay away? Why was he sitting there with Rona? Why did he just… run away with her?
The way he had reached out and grabbed her arm before pulling her into the ocean… to say that it didn’t sit right with me would be a gross understatement.
Why were they together in the first place, and why was he intent on keeping her with him? It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense.
“You… You know that girl?” Mona finally ventured.
“Yes,” I replied hoarsely. “Rona Northstone. She’s Bastien’s cousin…” My voice trailed off as I spoke the words. I remembered that Rona was actually no such thing. If the Mortclaws really were Bastien’s family, he was, in fact, in no way related to Rona. A chill settled in at the base of my spine.
“Well, what do you want to do now?” Mona asked.
After Bastien had shouted at me to stay away, then rushed into the ocean with another girl, I somehow didn’t have it in me to go running after him. He had made his wish clear. For me to stay put. And although I didn’t understand it, I wasn’t that type of girl.
Besides, I was feeling emotionally exhausted. All the buildup to coming here, all the worry and stress and anxiety about taking that potion… It all welled up inside of me at once and I just felt… drained. Weak. So very weak.
“I… need to think,” I managed.
“Good idea,” Mona said, glancing furtively up and down the beach. “But in that case, I suggest we don’t wait here. Why don’t we go sit up in some trees? I’ll make us invisible and you can think as much as you need to…”
Brock was remaining quiet in all of this.
“Okay,” I said. “L-Let’s do that.”
I climbed onto Brock’s back and we zoomed into the nearest line of trees, where we searched for a broad bough somewhere high up and secluded, where we could sit comfortably.
Then Mona and Brock left me to my silence again, to my own jumbled, painful thoughts. The more I mulled over what had just happened, the worse I felt about it.
Until Mona put me out of my misery. She placed a hand on my knee and squeezed it. I met her blue eyes, traced with compassion. “I can guess what you’re thinking, Vicky. And I will tell you: don’t assume the worst. There could be a very good reason for what that wolf said and did.”
I nodded, sucking in a ragged breath. “I think you must be right,” I said, fighting to think objectively. It was just so uncharacteristic of him. He had never spoken to me in that sort of tone, not once since I had met him.
“Maybe we should continue with our original plan,” Mona went on. “Maybe we should investigate The Woodlands a bit, visit the Blackhalls as we had previously planned, and do some sniffing around… The reason for Bastien’s evasion might become apparent.”
I nodded again, a feeling of comfort rolling through me. Mona couldn’t have known how much her words meant to me in that moment. Given an incident in The Shade’s history when a ghoul had wreaked havoc on her mind, causing her to believe Kiev and Sofia were having an affair, she definitely spoke from a position of experience.
I gripped the craggy bark of the tree. Feeling a surge of renewed energy, I raised myself slowly to my feet.
“Okay,” I said, clearing my throat. “Let’s keep moving.”
Victoria
Shoving my doubts about Bastien aside, I tried to focus on the matter at hand. In spite of his strange behavior, I refused to continue doubting him. Hopefully the reason for his avoidance would come to light soon, as Mona had suggested it might.
I climbed back onto Brock’s back and the witches lifted into the air with me, leaving the treetops where we had stopped to rest. I needed to concentrate now. Our plan was to first head to the Blackhalls’ lair to see if they held any clues as to what was going on.
It struck me only now, as I was recovering from the shock of seeing Bastien with Rona, that if Bastien was here, wouldn’t his mother be here also? She had carried him away. I did not see how he would have been able to break free from her grasp, given her extraordinary powers. Perhaps all the Mortclaws had returned to The Woodlands.
In which case, I didn’t need that psychic “location ability” after all—although The Woodlands was a big place. We didn’t know where the Mortclaws’ lair was, assuming they still had an official base here after all those years. Where would we even begin to search for them?
I voiced my thoughts to Mona and Brock.
“First things first,” Mona said. “We, or rather you, know where the Blackhalls live. Let’s go talk to them and see what they have to say.”
But as we continued soaring toward the Blackhalls’ location, we were distracted by the sound of galloping beneath us, thundering paws over the undergrowth. We dipped beneath the trees to find ourselves staring down at a stampede of giant black wolves—five of them in total. They whipped through the trees, heading in a different direction than we had been.
Those were Mortclaws for sure. Even ignoring their size, the fact that it was daytime and they were in their wolf forms proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
They traveled so fast, they were already disappearing from sight. We had to make a decision, fast. Continue on our course to the Blackhalls, or follow these Mortclaws’ trail while we could. They might lead us back to their base. And who knew how long it might take us to find it on our own, if we ever found it. It could be well hidden for all we knew.
“Let’s follow them,” Mona whispered.
Doing an about-turn in the air, we began zooming after them. Mona made us invisible, since we had to travel beneath the treetops in order to keep track of them. They raced for miles and miles through the woods, and soon they began to run at an even greater speed. I feared that they might use their powers to vanish and we would lose them. But thankfully, they seemed to be enjoying their sprint through the trees.
Eventually, they departed from the woods and bounded out into a vast meadow filled with violet flowers. They ran and ran for miles more, across the meadow into another stretch of woods, then out into a clearing again, until finally they slowed to a stop as we neared a mountain range. Another mountain range. Mountains sure seemed to be a popular habitat for the wolves of The Woodlands.
We hovered overhead, watching as they circled the foothills. They began clambering over the boulders, leading us to a hidden crack in the wall. Instead of squeezing through it, they finally exercised their powers and vanished—we could only assume within the mountain.
“Well, looks like we’ve found their lair,” Mona said.
I wondered what the pack of five had been speeding back from.
“So we’re going to spy on them now, or what?” Brock asked.
“That seems the logical next step,” Mona replied. “I’m going to cast some extra protection around us first though,” she added, “to help conceal our scent and also any sounds we
We waited a few seconds while I assumed Mona was doing her thing. Then she said, “All right, I’m ready if you two are.”
I doubted I would ever be ready to descend into a lair filled with those monsters, but Brock and I replied, “Let’s go.”
I could barely blink before our surroundings vanished and we reappeared on the other side of the mountain wall. We stood in the midst of a dark network of tunnels with hardly any lighting. As we began to move, we passed the occasional burning lantern that looked like it’d only been recently fixed to the wall, but there were patches of tunnel which were completely dark. My arms tightened around Brock’s broad shoulders—I was relieved that he was still carrying me. My witch escorts couldn’t create any artificial light to guide us in case it drew the attention of wolves. So we had to make do. As we moved deeper into the mountain, doors began to appear on either side of us. We searched the chambers for Bastien’s mother, all the while prepared to flatten ourselves against the wall if a wolf came barging past.
This place was alarmingly big, the network of tunnels so extensive it felt like it would go on forever.
Then, as we passed by a particularly old-looking door, I caught the sound of a familiar voice, coming from the other side of it.
A male and female were arguing. The female voice was the one that I recognized.
“We should give the boy some time to cool off,” the male was saying. “He’ll return when he’s ready.”
“Can you blame me for not wanting to lose sight of him, after all those years we lost him?”
“We haven’t lost him. He’s simply gone for a walk to clear his head.”
The woman huffed, but fell quiet. Unnervingly, she reminded me of Brucella.
A bed creaked, even as footsteps approached the door. It opened and a man strode out—a man whom, being in his humanoid form, I could instantly recognize as Bastien’s father. The likeness of their facial structures was almost uncanny.