Page 13 of Circle of Death
She says it in a matter-of-fact way, but I know it hurts her, too. The lost memory. The missing years. The hollow space in her life. The child she’d never known.
“But Maddy and I couldn’t ask for nicer ancestors,” says Jessica with a smile.
Jericho takes a deep sip of wine. “That’s beautiful,” he says. “A little messed up. But beautiful.”
For the whole time, Maddy has been quiet, just pushing food around on her plate. I wonder what the hell she’s thinking. I see her look up.
“What’s messed up about it?” she says. “Is it really any stranger than other stuff that happened back in the 1930s? Can we talk about the Wasp? Or the Black Falcon? Or the Silver Skull? Your ancestors dealt with all of them. Why is our family history any stranger?”
“She’s right,” says Burbank. “We’ve all got plenty of weirdness lurking in our pasts.”
Moe looks at Maddy. “How do you know all those names? You’re just a kid.”
Maddy puts down her fork and leans forward. “Because I’m the biggest Shadow fan who ever lived. Been that way since I was little. I know all the stories, all the radio shows. I know every Shadow enemy who ever lived. Every case the Shadow ever worked on. Every partner he ever had. I probably know your ancestors better thanyoudo. And I knew it all long before I found Lamont and Margo.”
Margo nods. “It’s true. Sometimes she comes up with things thatI’dforgotten.”
Moe dabs his chin with a napkin. “So I guess it was meant to be. All of us here together after all this time. One big crazy family—reunited.” He lifts his glass to Maddy. “And here’s to the girl who knows more about the Shadow… than the Shadow!”
All of a sudden, Bando shoots out from under my chair and starts barking at the window.
When I look up, a huge explosion rocks the room.
CHAPTER 14
A BALL OF fire blasts against the windows, right above where Bando is standing. I grab Margo and Maddy and pull them off their chairs onto the floor.“Everybody under the table!”
Another blast hits the window on the other end of the room. My mouth goes dry and my heart is pounding. I was right about this house making us a target! The walls tremble and I can hear the chandelier crystals shaking above us. I do a quick check to make sure we’re all accounted for. Jessica is huddled between Burbank and Moe, and Jericho has flattened himself on the floor.
“Stay down, everybody!” I shout. “Stay down!”
Before I can stop him, Jericho starts belly-crawling across the room. Another salvo hits. He huddles under the nearest windowsill. He pops his head up for a second to look outside. The explosions just keep coming.
“Attack drones!” he shouts above the noise. “Dozensof ’em!”
I push Maddy and Margo together. “Don’t move! Either of you!”
I crawl over to the window, right next to Jericho. I look up. The night sky is filled with tiny red navigation lights, like a fleet of evil fireflies. They’re not predator drones—the high-altitude, silent type. They’re smaller, about two feet across, designed to operate close to the ground. They’re meant to stir panic and terror. I need to get outside. I need todosomething. Need to fight back!
Jericho pulls me down just before another strike hits the walls. Bando is running back and forth along the baseboard, barking like crazy. “Bando!Come!” yells Jessica. Bando whimpers and runs under the table.
Sparks and flames bounce off outside walls as blast after blast hits the granite.
The noise is deafening.
Then it all just… stops.
I wait a few seconds, then peek outside. The drones are gone. Like they were never there. I look around the room. Everybody’s intact. The whole place is filled with stone dust, and some of the plaster from the walls has been shaken loose. But that’s it. The structure held.
Moe lifts his head. “What the hell wasthat?”
“I’d say somebody knows we’re here,” says Jericho.
Burbank emerges from under the table and helps Jessica to her feet. He walks slowly to the window and runs his fingers over the cracked, blackened glass. “I don’t get it. This is a twentieth-century mansion, not a bomb shelter. How are we not dead?”
“Thank Shiwan Khan,” says Margo. She’s standing with Maddy on the far side of the table, brushing dust from her dress.
I rest my palm on one of the damaged panes, still hot to the touch. “Margo’s right. Khan fortified the whole structure when he lived here. Windows. Walls. Roof. That’s what saved us.”
