Twin Daggers Read online

  BLINK

  Twin Daggers

  Copyright © 2020 by MarcyKate Connolly

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Blink, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Hardcover ISBN 978-0-310-76814-2

  Ebook ISBN 978-0-310-76816-6

  Epub Edition JUNE 2020 9780310768166

  All internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers on this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or to imply and endorsement by the publisher, nor does the publisher vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Cover direction: Ron Huizenga

  Interior design: Denise Froehlich

  Printed in the United States of America

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  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER 1

  MY LIFE IS A CAREFULLY CONSTRUCTED LIE. Even now as my sister and I prepare to slip into the darkness of the tunnel network that runs beneath our city, each movement we make must remain cloaked by magic. Everything we say, everything we do, is designed to mislead and persuade that we’re exactly like the people we live amongst.

  If we’re found out, we’ll be executed.

  The lid of the drainage tunnel—far too heavy for us to lift by hand—rises into the still night air. Zandria continues to weave her hands in quick, furtive motions, moving the cover with her magic, while my own incantation stirs the air fast enough to make us imperceptible in the darkness of the alley. Zandria nods at me to go first and I climb down the grimy ladder into the black, never dropping my spell.

  I hit the floor as she’s halfway down the ladder, and the lid clicks back into place. The city of Palinor sleeps above us while we creep along its filthy underbelly. This is our nightly ritual. When the sun sets, we head for the tunnels and hunt for what our people have lost.

  We are Magi, a once powerful people decimated by the Techno-Magi wars one hundred years ago. The Technocrats bombed our schools and hospitals, did everything they could to destroy our children and future. For centuries we ruled these lands; now we are just beginning to rebuild our numbers. Our hatred of the Technocrats fuels us as we strive to recover what they stole.

  The mere fact we exist is dangerous. Palinor isn’t a country that looks fondly on magic. They fear and loathe it. The Technocrats believe they all but eradicated us in the wars. Their leaders have lied to them, relegating us to the status of mere specters in the dark.

  They’re wrong.

  We have adapted.

  My twin sister and I are living proof. All Magi can use magic on organic matter, but our powers are different. We can cast spells on anything, including the machines. It is our greatest secret, one we must hide from everyone but our parents. Our legends speak of a Magi sect that once tried to manipulate inanimate matter. They were cast out as tainted, their work destroyed, and their bloodlines removed from our histories. Simply being Magi is the least of our worries.

  “This place is nastier than usual,” Zandria complains as she bumps her hip into mine. I cling to the rim of the ceiling and scowl at her. One false move and I’ll be swimming with the rats.

  “And you’re just as foolish,” I say, taking the lead again. “Now hush.”

  “You hush,” she says. I don’t have to turn around to know she smirks at the back of my head.

  But she’s right—the last few days have been warm and rainless, and it smells fouler than ever down here. The ointment we painted under our noses hardly dims the stench when it’s this bad. We creep along the stone walkway in single file. I drop the concealing spell and instead whisper the one that makes our steps soundless.

  Guards are usually stationed above, near the entrances, and rarely down in the tunnels. But if there ever are any, we’re prepared.

  “Aissa, how much longer do you think we’ll have to keep this up before Mama and Papa let us do something more interesting? Mapping these tunnels is getting old.”

  I stifle a snort. Nothing is ever exciting enough for my twin. Our parents began the mapping project last year, then handed it off when we turned sixteen last month, but we’ve only scratched the surface of the tunnel network in our nightly missions. This is our first excursion in this sector. The mapping is tedious, but important. It is said that somewhere down here lies the remnants of the Magi’s library. All those spells we lost, crushed by the Technocrats and buried under their shiny metal Palace.

  “It’s necessary. Besides, we haven’t been doing this for long at all. We have to prove ourselves before the Armory will move us up the ranks. We can’t expect to be at Mama and Papa’s level until we’ve done our share of grunt work.”

  “But what fun will that be?” she whines.

  “Keep your voice down. Do you want to get caught?”

  “We haven’t encountered a soul yet. I could scream and no one would bat an eye.”

  “Except for me,” I say.

  She smirks again. “Yes, except for you.”

  This may not be the most glamorous task, as my sister reminds me every night, but it is important. Mama and Papa—and our leaders in the Armory—entrusted us with this mission. If we fail, we’ll lose our parents’ trust and the respect of our fellow Magi. Maybe even our lives if we get caught. Failure isn’t an option. Which means we have to work hard and stick this out until the Armory sees fit to promote us.

  And ensure they never find out what our magic can do to the machines.

  As we walk through the tunnels, we reach out with our magic, probing the walls for hollow spaces behind them. The Armory had hoped that if the Technocrats built their Palace on top of the ruins of our Magi city, exploring these tunnels would uncover sections that survived. In fact, we already have found evidence; the first time we ventured beneath the city, Zandria and I ferreted out a hidden passage beyond the tunnel wall that was clearly much older than what the Technos had plastered over it. Any doubts our parents may have had about giving us this assignment were laid
to rest that very night. But not every tunnel has secrets. The sector we spent the last week exploring had none, much to our disappointment.

  After one hundred feet, we reach what appears to be a curve in the tunnels. But my magic immediately discerns the gap behind it.

  “Here,” I whisper to my sister. We exchange a quick grin, then get to work.

  Zandria watches our backs and I hum at the wall. We’re alike in so many ways—twin features and bright red hair, even matching black tunics and pants on our nightly outings. But when it comes to magic, my sister prefers handspells while I’m partial to incantations. Singing isn’t necessary for magic, but it helps me focus. The words and magic and music combine in my head and let the power flow through me in a rush of heat.

  Pity we Magi have lost so many of our spells.

  Pity the Technocrats who stole them from us.

  The wall moves apart, each brick carefully placing itself on the ground at my command, creating two new, shorter walls on either side of the walkway.

  A shadowed doorway now stands in its place, tempting us onward. The tunnels run beneath the entire city, but now this section belongs to us.

  “Fiero,” Zandria whispers, and a white light dances in her palm. She holds it aloft and takes the lead while I hum a silencing spell and pull out my paper and graphite to note our path.

  We barely take a half dozen steps before I halt in my tracks and whirl around. I swear I heard something thump behind us.

  I peer into the darkness. Nothing.

  Then the sound comes again.

  A trickle of ice slithers down my spine.

  “Zandy!” I hiss. “Wait!” I rush back to the doorway and crouch down to the bricks to hum a new spell, willing them to hurry and move back into their proper places. In less than a minute, it’s like we never passed. Zandria stands wide-eyed behind me, not daring to speak a word. My heart pounds in my throat and I press my ear to the wall.

  “Human or machine?” Zandria whispers. Her hand twines with mine, something we’ve done since we were little and afraid of the dark.

  I shake my head. “Can’t tell.”

  She weaves her free hand and murmurs. The brick near eye level slowly slides toward us. I flinch when it scrapes against the one beside it.

  “What are you doing?” I should’ve cast the silencing spell again. I do it now hurriedly, before whoever is out there gets any closer.

  “We need to know who followed us.” She squeezes my hand. Above all else, we must protect each other.

  “At least put out your light.” She extinguishes it, and we’re engulfed in shadows. Something runs over my foot and I tighten my grip on her hand. Stupid rats. They’ll be the death of me.

  The sound is distinctive, a double thump and a pause, which repeats. Over and over.

  Just when I decide it’s only a patrolling automaton we could easily disable with our magic, a tall boy comes into view around the corner, his form lit by the lantern swaying in front of him. I attempt to clamp a hand over Zandria’s mouth before she can gasp, but she ducks and elbows me in the ribs, then settles back so we can both keep watching.

  His pale hair curls at the ends against his neck, and his nose is long and straight. When the light catches his eyes, they remind me of pools of moonlight. Pale blue and cold. His pants and tunic are a light gray, not the usual steel-gray uniforms the guards wear.

  But he isn’t making that strange noise. The small machine next to him is.

  Its two legs whir and hit the ground at alternate times, propelling the odd thing forward. It seems to be following the boy.

  When he begins to mutter, Zandria and I hold our breath.

  Does he know this tunnel exists? The only entrance we’ve found is through a door of our own creation.

  “Where could it be?” He pauses a few feet before our hidden tunnel and presses his palms to the wall.

  Oh no. If he does that here, he’ll notice the missing brick for certain.

  I drag Zandria down to the floor. “I’ll put it back as quietly as possible,” she says before I can speak.

  She repeats her weaving and the brick rises from the floor, moving agonizingly slow into the brick wall. I bite my tongue when it slides into place.

  “What was that?” We can just hear the muffled words of the boy.

  I clutch my sister and we flatten ourselves against the tunnel wall. Then I hum, ever so softly, moving the air around us to obscure our figures should he find a way through the wall. I should’ve kept it up after we left the alley and let Zandria handle the silencing spell.

  The sound of hands moving along rough stone comes from the wall. Seeking, scraping . . . hunting.

  Who is this boy? What could he be looking for so secretively, if not this tunnel? But how would he even know it’s here? The only reason we found it is because bricks and metal respond to us. Anyone else would need a door or a map. When Mama and Papa were mapping, the guards patrolled the drainage and sewer tunnels from time to time, but as far as my parents could tell it was just a routine.

  There is absolutely no good reason for him to be here.

  The scrabbling grows louder and the brick shifts slightly. I freeze. Just the thought of getting caught down here, what that would mean . . .

  Zandria pulls me to my feet and shoves me down the stone corridor. We have to escape before he finds us.

  “Fiero,” Zandria whispers again. The soft light hovers over her hand, once more lighting our steps as we hurry into the maw of the abandoned labyrinth.

  We stumble and pause at the sound of a falling brick.

  Another brick hits the stone floor. We run down the corridor, the stonework archways flying by us. A sharp clatter and a grunt echo toward us.

  “Hello? Who’s there?”

  “Rapide,” I whisper. We won’t be able to keep this pace for long, but at least it will put some distance between us and him. Whoever he may be.

  We tear through tunnel after tunnel, turn after turn. Though we’re in new territory, I lead the way. Something tugs me forward, a sixth sense of which direction to choose. When we slow, the walls have taken on a darker color and glossy sheen.

  “Aissa,” Zandria says. “This section . . . it’s not like the rest of the tunnels.”

  She’s right. The passages we’ve mapped until now have all been brick or steel or stone. And most in some form of disrepair. Here, the arches are higher and multicolored marble panels are built into them. The black walls have a luminescent gleam, giving off a light of their own.

  “It’s lovely. Strange though. It doesn’t look like something the Technocrats would build.” I stand on my tiptoes and run my hand along the crux of the arch with my eyes closed. Tingling magic reaches into my fingertips. The flush of discovery creeps up my neck and cheeks.

  “The Technos definitely didn’t build this section.”

  She repeats my action and grins. “You know what this means?”

  “Magi,” we say together, breathless.

  “That boy may still be following, so we must be quiet. No one else can know about this,” I say. Zandria sobers. We walk slower down the corridor this time, studying it now that we aren’t being chased. The presence of magic is tangible. Whatever hides behind these walls must be powerful enough to allow the magic to seep into the marble.

  And it’s ours.

  My entire body feels like it’s vibrating. This is what drew me here, nudging me as we ran. Fear and adrenaline must have opened my senses to it. Questions fill me, but no one is here to answer.

  “I can feel it in my toes. It tickles,” Zandria says with a soft giggle. But when we turn the corner at the end of the hallway, we’re both struck mute.

  A door. A perfect, black, glossy door, oozing magic and secrets.

  And nothing else. It’s a dead end. The door is the only way to move forward.

  My pulse begins to race and Zandy lets out a laugh. I’m too excited to bother to shush her this time. We’ve found something important. Very impor
tant, by the looks of it. This find will make our parents proud, and the Armory too. Maybe we’ll get promoted sooner than I thought.

  My thoughts darken momentarily. That boy was looking for something. What if it was this door? But what would a Technocrat want with something the Magi made?

  Zandria grabs the knob, but it doesn’t give the slightest twist.

  “It’s locked. Incredibly well locked.”

  “Let me try.” I hum, then sing, “Apere.” But when I try to open it, again the door doesn’t budge. I pinch my lips together, frustration brewing in my chest. We’ve never encountered this problem before.

  “Forges!” Zandria grumbles, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Were you expecting a welcome mat?” I ask.

  “From the Magi? Absolutely.” She scowls.

  “Maybe this isn’t theirs,” I wonder.

  “Who else would have a magic doorway under Palinor? The stories all claim the Technos built their Palace on the ruins of the Magi library. This fits.”

  “I wouldn’t object to you being right,” I say, grinning so wide my teeth tingle from the excess magic in the air.

  “Let me try again,” she says.

  We take turns, vainly attempting every spell we know to force the door to open. The lightness that filled me only a few minutes ago begins to fade.

  While it wouldn’t be surprising for most Magi, this is the first inanimate thing that hasn’t responded to my sister and me. Yet it’s clearly of magical origin.

  With a heavy heart, I put a hand on Zandria’s shoulder after her tenth try. “I’ve had enough. Haven’t you?”

  She whirls, throwing her hands up. “I’m dying to know what’s inside.”

  I snort. “Me too, but I don’t think we’re getting in there tonight. We have to tell Mama and Papa. They might know why we can’t get past this door.” I frown. “And we need to tell them about the boy.”

  Hopefully he’s gone by now and we can safely exit these blasted tunnels. What was he seeking? Could it really be this door and what hides behind it? It’s the only thing of real interest we’ve seen in this section.

  “No,” she objects. “Not yet! They’ll be so disappointed we were followed.”

  “We can’t endanger the Armory’s entire mission just because we’re embarrassed we almost got caught. They’ll understand. We haven’t been at this for long.”