Page 95 of Katya and the Young God

Not-Thomas nods, almost absent-minded, staring up at the building with blank eyes, before he slowly, ever so slowly, kneels to the ground, spreading his palm against the forest floor. “You’ll have at least thirty minutes before they can reroute the phones. This isn’t sophisticated, they’ll figure out a way around soon enough.”

“Can you change their memories from here?” Katya asks, and Pieter gives her such a sharp look that she doesn’t miss it. “Make sure they don’t see us, or don’t sound any alarm?”

“Not with those runes, they were prepared for that.”

There’s a crackle, a palatable tingle of power, and the lights go black in front of them.

Katya exhales out the adrenaline, then strides forward, flicking out her lock picks, and can sense more than feel Pieter ghost behind her. She kneels in front of the door, her instincts telling her to keep as small of a profile as possible.

Pieter leans against the wall next to her, obviously casual, but the tips of his fingers are against the metal rust, moving in small taps against it, small enough that she knows it must be covert but something she can’t track.

Quick, he tapes the rune bomb against the doors, then counts down on one hand.

She doesn’t hear anything, but there’s a sudden lack of noise inside. “The Magician won’t be able to do much now,” he says, quiet. “Not while he’s inside those doors.”

It takes her very little time to undo the lock, and really, if they’re going to be keeping high security magical targets in the middle of the woods, they should use something more secure.

She catches the metal chain before it hits the door with a clang, slowly lowering it to the forest floor below, then raises an eyebrow at Pieter.

He shakes his head at her, his lips curling up into a smile, dim in the moonlight. “You do that with far too much ease.”

“I was a hellish teenager,” she says back, before pulling out her mini mag light and gun. “Let's do this.”

He opens the door, and it’s deafeningly silent inside, just the buzz of power barely contained. But all the lights are off, and he closes the door behind him with barely a click.

She thumbs on the mag light, holding it against her skin to muffle the beam, just barely enough to see, and they start forward.

True to his blueprints, the back entrance winds to a hallway, and there’s no sound of footsteps, as if it’s been abandoned, and a chill raises on the back of Katya’s arms.

The air is viciously cold, with no insulation from the outside air, nothing to give the place even a hint of coziness, and Selene is in here, shivering. Alone.

Pieter’s hand goes to her elbow. “Light,” he whispers, and she flicks it off, before —

They turn a corner, and they’re in the main room. Katya presses against the cold metal wall.

In the center of the giant room, under a glass cage, illuminated by some light within, is Selene. She’s strapped to a chair, like something out of a bad science fiction movie, with needles embedded in her arms, in her legs, and a headpiece around her forehead.

Her eyes are closed, but even from this distance, Katya can see the soft flutter of breath.

She’s fucking glowing. In the literal meaning, the soft light casting deep shadows in the warehouse, hiding them from view.

On the other side, near the door, two men in paramilitary uniforms stand at attention, guns slung across their chests, hands idly laying on them. By their stance, this is boring. A shift they only do because of money, not because of excitement or anything actually fun.

And they somehow haven't realized the lack of electricity, despite the light bulb over Selene swinging idly.

And still, Katya’s eyes are drawn back to the child. Someone obviously brushed her hair back, shaving patches for the cruel headpiece and tying back the rest. She’s in ill-fitting scrubs, the sort you give children who are permanently at the hospital, and her head lolls to the side.

She hears, rather than sees, Pieter take in a deep breath next to her, similarly affected.

Katya looks up. Two paramilitary soldiers pace the top level, with full view into the room, similar guns slung across them.

If Katya could go without seeing another paramilitary guard using rifles far too big for their job, she’d be happy. This isn’t the proper place for those guns, and they have an equal chance of hitting each other as anyone they’re aiming at.

She doesn’t generally want to kill anyone, much less these probable former soldiers just trying to take a job, but she has zero problem shooting to disable. Shooting to discourage. Especially with Selene sitting like that, strapped in to a contraption.

A gunshot to the hand will stop even the most experienced from shooting back.

But the soldiers on the top level will be passing to where they can see Katya and Pieter within a minute, and she can’t just stay here and observe. Can’t stay here and revise plans.

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