Page 27 of Dark Destiny: The Fates' Bargain

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YAAF

Yaaf watched the levels tick by through the window as the van descended into the earth in a long, slow spiral, its headlights sweeping across bare concrete. In a way, it felt like coming home even though they had never been there before. The barracks they had lived in had also been located underground, though not as deep in the earth.

This is familiar,Number Four thought, and the rest of them received it not as words exactly, but as a kind of shared recognition settling into eight minds at once.

They hadn't enjoyed living in the mansion and later the hotel long enough for it to become what they were used to. Having windows had been a luxury, and they were not looking forward to living without them. Would they be allowed to go outside at all?

Before the rebellion, when they had been treated the same as other soldiers on the island, they had spent their days out of the barracks, training, so the underground accommodations had never become oppressive.

They might become that now.

Reaching the lowest garage level, the van slowed and then stopped in front of a chain-link gate blocking the entrance to a restricted parking area that seemed to be reserved for the clan. Then the gate shuddered and slid aside on its track, the van rolled through and slid into one of the many vacant parking spots.

Judging by the sparse number of vehicles parked in this restricted area, the clan did not maintain much presence in this location.

"We have arrived," the Guardian in the passenger seat said, twisting around to look at them.

The two Guardians escorting them to the keep had introduced themselves at the airstrip. The driver's name was Jay, and the one in the passenger seat was Theo.

"Where is the other van?" Yaaf asked. "They were behind us."

"Should be right along." Theo checked something on his phone. "Robbie is driving carefully with all that lab equipment rattling around in the back. They'll be here soon."

Yaaf nodded and said nothing more, but the collective turned the delay over between themselves. Delay could mean trouble, but there was no reason for trouble that they could think of.

The scientists and their partners were also accompanied by two new Guardians, who seemed as capable as the ones who had executed the complicated mission on the island.

Two guards for the Eight of us means that they are not concerned about us running away, Number Six thought, as they climbed out of the van.

Why would they be?Number One shared with the collective.They know what we can do. We can thrall these two or ten of them; it doesn't require much more effort. We could walk out of here in under a minute if we wanted to. They know it. More guards won't make a difference.

The scientists, and their own mothers and sisters, were what was ensuring their full cooperation—two separate points of leverage. They needed Dimitri and Petrov and the drug regimen only they knew how to produce, and if they ever wanted to see the women and children who would be taken straight to the village, they had to toe the line and earn the clan's trust.

But first, before anything, they needed another dose. They were operating on fumes, and they were fidgety and anxious. It was going to get much worse soon, and Yaaf was glad that Sullha wasn't there to see him like that. The jitter that had started in his left hand at Safe Harbor's dinner table had gotten worse during the flight, and now his right hand was also shaking, and the only way to hide it was to keep his hands tucked into his pockets.

Theo led them across the garage to a plain door with a placard that read MAINTENANCE. He pointed his phone at it, and after it opened with a hydraulic hiss, they filed through into a short corridor that ended at a second door. Beyond that was a bank of elevators.

Jay pressed his hand to the reader, and a moment later, the elevator arrived, its doors sliding open soundlessly.

"We are going two more levels down," Theo said. "To the kitchen level. I'm sure you are all hungry."

They had eaten on the plane, packaged meals that had been tasteless but filling, so they weren't hungry. What they neededwas a drug injection, not food, but Number One didn't say any of that. They didn't want to make their dependency on the drugs too obvious, even though the Guardians knew. It just wasn't something that they were proud of.

When they got out of the elevator, Theo pointed them to the left of the corridor. "Kitchen's this way."

Given how strong the smell coming from that direction was, they could just follow their noses.

The kitchen was a large space designed for cooking for an army. Stainless steel counters, hanging racks of pots, a wide center island where someone had laid out trays of meats, breads, vegetables, and pitchers of water and soda.

A man stood as they entered. He was short, blond, with a pair of penetrating pale blue eyes that were somewhat unnerving. He didn't look hostile, but he also didn't look like someone to trifle with. There was something about his military bearing and intelligent eyes that commanded respect.

"Welcome to the keep," he said. "I'm Turner."

Yaaf recognized the voice first, or rather the accent. He'd heard that Southern twang many times over the past few weeks.

"You are the strategist," he said.