And who was the other kid?
He turned to face the taller boy who was staring back at him. The kid was completely panicked. Fear crouched in his dark eyes and he ducked his head, cowering, as a newbie might in his first week at Dwight when he was about to be ‘counselled’ by Mr Holt and his henchmen.
‘Who -’ he began.
And then the wardrobe door creaked again.
Oh, for God’s sake.
‘Seraphina!’ yelled Zac and Samantha simultaneously.
That was a little too loud, Luke thought. He didn’t know whether Georgia knew that she had all these people chilling out in her hanging space, but she was gonna be aware of it pretty soon if everyone kept up with that volume.
‘Quiet!’ hissed the woman, stepping down from the wardrobe and quickly scanning the room.
Her eyes stopped at Luke, and he stared right back. Well, she was beautiful. Definitely hot, even in her Rambo outfit. But who on earth was she?
‘Um,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’
Seraphina spoke first. ‘We haven’t got long,’ she said. ‘Samantha, I trust you’ve met Luke, your brother?’
Samantha nodded.
‘It was a terrible risk of me to give you that phone, and I hope one day you’ll forgive me,’ said the woman.
‘What phone?’ said Luke.
‘How does it work?’ said Samantha.
‘It’s an ancient object embedded within a communication device. It calls me to you when you desperately need me. But it also attracts others. We had to risk it when we lost track of you in Windsor, Luke.’
‘But I’ve never seen you before in my life,’ said Luke. ‘And what the hell are you doing hanging around in a closet?’
Seraphina’s golden eyes glinted. ‘Obviously, Luke, you realise that it is not an ordinary wardrobe.’
‘There are extraordinary wardrobes?’ said Luke.
‘There are many things you need to learn, but now is not the time. You and your sister are in immediate danger. I’ve no doubt the creatures hunting you are on their way. Whoever created this portal -’ she pointed at the wardrobe, ‘- is a very powerful being. Using it requires much skill.’
Her eyes locked hard on Luke’s, and then she turned quickly. ‘Zac Nguyen, your mother would be very proud of you.’
Zac blushed and bowed. Luke stared at him. He’d never seen anyone bow before.
‘And who is this?’ said Seraphina, turning towards the boy wearing no shoes and a terrified expression. The boy looked wildly around the room and then at the door.
He’s either gonna bolt or cry, thought Luke.
‘I don’t know his name,’ said Samantha quietly. ‘And I don’t think he can talk, Sera. But he can draw. And he’s really, really frightened.’
Luke’s eyes turned to his sister. Every word she spoke made him want to hear more.
Seraphina moved very slowly towards the boy, her palm outstretched as though approaching a trapped animal. Her lips moved, but Luke couldn’t pick up what she was saying. The boy’s head stopped thrashing about, but his eyes still looked freaked.
‘Please, would you tell us who you are?’ said Seraphina.
The kid reached around behind his back and pulled a notepad out of his backpack. He flipped back the cover and Luke could see some writing at the top of the page.
‘Kyle Greene,’ read Seraphina. ‘Is that your name?’
The boy chewed his bottom lip and then inclined his head, once.
‘Kyle Greene?’ said Luke. ‘Samantha, I think he’s one of our brothers!’
‘One of our brothers?’ Samantha stared at Luke.
‘What?’ hissed Seraphina. She grabbed the boy by the arm. ‘Kyle, why did you bring Samantha here? Who sent you to find her?’
Kyle wrenched his arm away and barrelled out of the room. Samantha hesitated, but the trail of fear and despair he left behind was too strong and she bolted after him.
And as she left the room, the world changed forever.
Shangri-La Hotel, Sydney, Australia
‘Are you certain that this was all that was at the front desk?’ asked Kirra, standing before the door of Room 323 of the Shangri-La Hotel.
Dagger’s Breath stood beside her, his scar glowing, sword sheathed across his shoulders. She could feel the heat of his need for revenge.
‘There were no other messages?’ she repeated.
‘Nothing, boss,’ said Golden Tiger, eyes averted.
Kirra turned the electronic pass-card over in her hands, her stomach muscles cramped.
The Chairman himself had called her. That was the first bad sign. When he ordered an important execution he liked to be personally involved on some level – but never directly, never like this.
Had she angered her boss so much that what lay beyond Room 323 was the afterlife? He’d want to have sent a pretty good crew if that was the case. She mentally reviewed the weapons she carried. Nine, all lethal, none visible.
She ran through everything again. The Chairman had told her that he knew where the two targets were hiding. Send someone to reception, he’d ordered – your instructions will be waiting.
And this was what Golden Tiger had brought her. The key to a room on the third floor of their own hotel.
She knew that the Chairman could have organised to have anything on the other side of this door. But could he possibly have captured the gypsy witch and had her brought here? Was that what he had summoned her to see – that others had succeeded where she’d failed? She would rather he had set up a trap for her crew – she would have preferred to meet her ancestors than face that humiliation.
If the gypsy witch was behind these doors, the Chairman would expect her to bring her to him, alive, as instructed. But he would always remember that she had failed the most important part of the mission and forever more she would have to watch and wait for his retribution.
And she knew that he was a very patient man.
But if the witch wasn’t in here, well…
She smoothed a single errant hair back from her flawless face and flicked her glossy ponytail off her shoulders. She knew – without vanity, and without make-up, for that matter – that she was one of the most beautiful women in the world. But she was more than that. She was a Yakuza assassin, feared in all dark corners throughout Japan and everywhere else she should happen to be.
And if she died tonight – on the night of her twenty-first birthday – well, she would ensure that people would still be speaking about it on the hundredth anniversary of her death.
Kirra Kiyota inserted the passkey into the electronic lock of Room 323 and pushed the door open.
The moment she pushed through the heavy hotel door, Kirra knew they were walking into a trap. The room was dark, but it wasn’t that: it felt far too small, as though it had been boxed up to cage them.
For a microsecond her instincts told her to back out, to run. But she squashed them immediately, ashamed. If it was her destiny to die today, punished by the Chairman for failing in her assignment, then she would die with honour. Not in a year from now, hunted down in some alley by a fellow Yakuza.
She led her crew into the room with her. They were Yakuza, all, and she knew they would react the same way.
But once crowded into the cramped, airless space, she became confused. The barricade restraining them was wooden, flimsy, as though they were ordinary doors. She could see light and hear voices beyond them.
She put her eye to the crack in the doors and hissed quietly.
The gypsy and others. And there is the boy!
A massive sense of relief overrode all instincts telling her there was something bewitched about the situation. The Chairman still trusts me, she thought. The job is still there to do properly. I will be redeemed.