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My position still warrants that I get the staff out, the guests to safety. I shout orders, singling out specific guards, waiters, some of my dance crew. They’re on cattle herding duty in seconds, guiding the coughing, terrified guests to the shuttles, back to SH.
Next, I head backstage to Nadia and the troupe, giving them orders to find every performer we brought in and get them out the back way. Many of them need to maintain their anonymity and be delivered to the airport in the next state to get them home.
I’ll have to pay them double for their trouble, for their silence.
Among the rabble, I find several medics, partygoers revealing themselves as doctors, nurses. All tending to the fortunate few wounded. They’ll need to be compensated for their heroism.
I'm halfway back to the escape route, hoping I might catch up with Hellena, see her to safety, when the Matron cuts me off, her personal guard sweeping me up in their dash to the back of the facility. “Come on! We need to regroup. Any one of those bastards could take a shot at us right now!”
My heart’s pounding as I struggle, looking back hopelessly. She’s right.
The Block, or the Ghosts, even the mayor’s men could take this chance to dispose of the Herald or me. It would weaken the Sinful, tipping the balance toward them.
For that matter, any one of them might have set the bomb off to do just that.
“Fuck!” I shout as the safe room door slams shut, the guards staying out in the antechamber as a buffer in case someone breaks through the first door. “I fucking screwed up!”
I hate myself for what I did. What I had to do.
To her.
I’m breaking in half.
“Pull yourself together, Evan!” the Herald snaps, pacing. “None of this was your fault.”
“Auctioning Hellena was. Serving her up to that bastard…”
“You were following orders, weren’t you?”
“Yes. But I was supposed to win her in the auction.”
“Is that so?” She tilts her head. The Herald is everything the Sinful value. Clever. Ruthless. Smart. “I was only told that she needed to be offered. Additionally, I had no clue who was coming, who that guest was. We’ve both been deceived, I’m sure of it.”
“By whom? One of the Sinful?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think any of the Seven are compromised.” It’s a slip on her part. I’ve never heard that term used before in relation to our bosses. Just like I only speak to the Herald, the Matron of the Ball, twice a year, and then only over the phone.
“Vice might have set it up, but they seemed just as stunned as we are,” I offer, running my hand through my hair. “They hustled Vice out of here as soon as it happened.”
“It could be anyone. There’s no way to know tonight. The Mayor, Clive, Devonde, they’re scattered. No way to know if anyone is missing.” She ponders, scratching the strap of her mask. She never takes it off.
Suddenly, she pauses, looking at me. “Where is Hellena?”
“I got her out.”
“What? Got her out where?”
“I sent her through the emergency exit, to escape.”
“And you didn’t go with her?” her normally smooth, buttery voice shrills into a worried shriek.
“Of course not. I had to stay here.”
“Then she should have stayed with you! Put her in another room, keep her out of harm’s way!”
The words register, but the meaning leaves me shaking my head.
“Listen, all of our people are safe. We’ll regroup. Hellena will be fine. She has a friend who can keep her safe?—”
