“My offer is simple,” Devon said. “The black blades in exchange for the safe return of my mom, Angelo Morales, William Reginald, Mo Kaminsky, and all the other Sinclairs you’re holding hostage.”

“And how do I know you’ll give me the real black blades this time and not just more fakes?”

Devon drew in a breath. “Because I’m the one who stole them out of that secret room in your office. It took me two weeks to get them all, but believe me, I have them. I can send you photos or read off the codes that you put on the weapons, if you like.”

Silence.

“That won’t be necessary,” Victor finally replied. “I assume you want the exchange to take place as soon as possible.”

“Yes. And I want your assurances that you will not harm my mother or any of the other Sinclairs.”

“Your mother is still in one piece . . . more or less,” Victor purred, a note of sly satisfaction creeping into his voice. “Nothing’s broken that a little stitch-sting can’t fix.” He paused. “Well, perhaps quite a lot of stitch-sting.”

Devon’s jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists, but he didn’t respond to the obvious taunt. We all knew that Victor had been torturing Claudia to get her to give up the location of the weapons, but it was still horrifying to hear him talk about it, especially in such a cold, casual way.

“The same thing goes for Mr. Kaminsky,” Victor continued in that same sly, satisfied tone. “Although I’ll admit that I’ve been a little more . . . enthusiastic in my questioning of him.”

I sucked in a breath, white-hot rage roaring through my body, but I clamped my lips shut and ground my teeth together to keep from screaming curses at him. No doubt that was exactly what Victor wanted. He’d hurt Claudia and Mo, and now he was hurting us by bragging about how he’d tortured them. Well, he was going to pay for it—all of it.

Victor laughed into the shocked silence. “The exchange happens tonight. Nine o’clock sharp. There’s a warehouse on Copper Street. Do you know where that is?”

Devon looked at me, as surprised as I was that Victor wanted to meet where he was holding the Sinclairs. But I supposed it made sense. Victor would want to keep his prisoners as close as possible and his forces intact. He wouldn’t want to risk going to another location with his guards and letting a single Sinclair escape while he was gone.

“Mr. Sinclair?”

“Yes,” Devon said, his voice cold. “I know where that is.”

“Good. Then bring the weapons there. I don’t know how many guards you might have with you, but if my men see a single one, so much as the smallest pixie, then I will execute your mother right in front of you. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Sinclair?”

“Yes,” Devon ground out. “Very clear.”

“Excellent. Then we have an agreement. So nice doing business with you.” Victor paused. “And Mr. Sinclair?”

“What?” Devon growled.

“Be sure to bring the real weapons this time. I would hate for anything to happen to your mother because you were stupid enough to think you could fool me with more fakes.”

Devon opened his mouth, but Victor ended the call before he could respond. Devon let out a tense breath, and Felix turned his phone off.

“Now what?” Oscar muttered, twitching his wings and hovering in midair.

Devon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Now we try to get some rest before tonight.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

We hashed out our plan, gathered up our supplies, and made sure that everything was ready. Once that was done, there was nothing else for us to do, so we ate some of the bacon-flavored beef jerky and water I had stored in the basement, then turned off the lights and lay down, trying to get some sleep.

For a while, I lay there in the dark with the others, listening to Devon’s and Felix’s soft, even breaths, mixed in with Oscar’s and Tiny’s deep, rumbling snores. But I couldn’t sleep, so I slid off my cot, crept through the basement, and eased up the steps, careful not to make them creak and wake the others. I opened the door at the top of the steps and went into the storage room, then out into the main part of the library.

It was still early, just after six o’clock, and the summer sun was still shining in the sky, streaming in through the windows and illuminating the shelves of books, magazines, and movies. At my passing, a few dust motes swirled through the air like lazy bumblebees before settling back down; everything was quiet, except for the faint hum of the air conditioning system.

I’d been sneaking in here at night for so long that it was strange seeing the library during the daylight hours, almost as if I’d never been in here before. So I wandered through the aisles, looking at all the books and running my fingers along their creased, well-worn spines. The air smelled faintly musty, like the books, but it was a familiar, comforting scent.

I thought about finding something to read or even getting a DVD out of the movie collection and popping it into the TV in the children’s section, but I was too restless to sit down and watch something. Besides, the last two days had been like I was starring in my own personal action movie. Right now, I just wanted a little peace and quiet.

So I kept wandering around and finally ended up in the children’s section after all, sitting in one of the kid-sized chairs, hunched over a small table, tracing my fingers over a star that had been crudely carved into the wood. Years ago, the very first summer we’d come to Cloudburst Falls, I’d used the sharp point of one of my bloodiron throwing stars to scratch the symbol into the table. I’d been obsessed with stars like the ones engraved in my mom’s sword, and I’d drawn, carved, and scribbled them on everything back then.

My mom had been horrified when she realized what I’d done, and she’d made me go over to the librarians and apologize to every single one of them for scratching up their table, even though other kids had already put plenty of graffiti on the furniture. She’d also made me do chores all summer long to save up enough money from my allowance to buy the library a new table, although the librarians had ended up buying new books instead.

I smiled, tracing my fingers over the star and its grooves in the wood, which had been smoothed out by time. We’d been so happy back then. I wished my mom was still here with me. She would know what to do tonight. How to protect Devon. How to save everyone. How to finally defeat Victor.