Seeker

The corridors were filling with gas—thick, smoky curls of it drifting through the air. Holding his breath, John left the clean, sealed atmosphere of the upper control room and moved quickly down a gas-filled hallway, pushing his way past several men who were coughing and falling to their knees. He couldn’t stop to help them now, or he too would be overcome.

He was trying to stay calm, keep his heart rate down, so he could make it to the end of the long upper corridor without taking a breath. He had to run the last twenty yards, his chest burning, but he reached his apartment, pushed inside, and quickly shut the door behind him.

Breathing deeply of the fresher air within, he began opening cupboards until he located the apartment’s emergency kit. He emptied it onto the floor, dug through the supplies, and pulled on his gas mask. Then he retrieved the disruptor from his safe and secured its straps around his body.

As he headed back toward the door, he passed a mirror and he paused. His reflection was frightening—the mask blurred his features, and the disruptor looked like a medieval torture device strapped across his chest.

It should be frightening. Its purpose is to instill fear, he reminded himself. I have her mother. I have the disruptor. No matter what she’s planning, I can scare her into listening, convince her. She won’t be hurt.

When he’d taken Fiona, he’d expected Quin to arrive in London to try to negotiate with him for her release. Since her athame couldn’t get her on board Traveler, he’d felt confident that he and his men would see her coming a long way off—this was the advantage of living on the airship. But clearly he’d been wrong. Half of his men were down on the streets of London, looking for Quin. But she had something else in mind.

Through one of his apartment windows, he watched fireworks burst against the ship’s starboard side. Every few seconds the explosions of light outside overloaded all of their exterior cameras. He felt a moment of doubt and wondered: Is it only Quin who’s coming? What if the Dreads were also after him? They had meddled with his family before, but now he had nothing of theirs—no athame, no book, and he was not even a Seeker. No, he had planned to lure Quin to London, and here she was, coming to get her mother.

He checked the seal on his gas mask and walked back out into the corridor. Traveler was descending further into chaos. Men were passed out now, sprawled across walkways. He knelt by two of them and felt for their pulses. Their heartbeats were strong—the gas was effective but not poisonous.

She’s not a killer, he thought. And neither am I. Together we would make good choices. We would spare the people who should be spared.

He came to a group of three men who were still conscious, crawling toward a stairwell in search of fresh air.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“There are masks on the second floor, end of the corridor,” he told them, helping them up. “Go. Find weapons—but don’t shoot unless you hear me order it!”

The men staggered off down the stairs.

John slid his hand down the side of the disruptor, bringing it to life. Its unsettling electric whine cut through the noise around him, helping him concentrate. He was carrying a sort of fireworks of his own now. If he could terrify her into listening, he could put an end to this madness without a fight.