34. Hellena

34

HELLENA

" N ot even close." The raspy, sibilant voice cuts through the darkness. "He's mine again. My Angel of vengeance."

Rachelle steps into the moonlight, her gown glowing white.

Like some ancient specter.

Her bare feet seem to glide across the clearing toward me.

Bringing a world of dread and hatred with her.

"He ran astray for a time, yes. I smelled your stink on him when he returned. But I knew he would. Because you are weak. And I am fated to win."

She stands over me in her splendor, terrible and looking far more drawn than I ever remember her in the past. I hate how scared I really am, backed up against my father's grave.

My friends in mortal danger.

Ora fights her way free of the hands holding her, rushes to Alaya's side, cradling her head and glaring at Evan.

"You bastards," Ora growls.

"Bring them with us. Into the crypt. It's time I see what my inheritance holds."

Evan grabs me, dragging me out of the way, then shoving me forward through the dark opening in the stone. Stairs lead down into darkness where the panel slid away.

Smothering obscurity wraps my senses in claustrophobic angst, making each step a greater effort. By the time I reach the bottom, I'm quaking.

Memories of Marco's basement still claw at my mind, reminding me of the utter loneliness. The cold.

And even though Evan is right there with me, it offers me no comfort. He's vacant, as cold as the nights alone in the dark.

"Move." His chilling tone forces me forward against every instinct in my body telling me to lock up and break down crying.

Even my rage can't overcome this feeling.

I thought I was past this.

But I close my eyes.

I breathe, like Tell and Gavin taught me to do, to go to that place that only I can go.

Center myself.

And I take one step.

Light flickers around me, triggered by a red, blinking motion sensor above us. Track lighting runs out ahead of us, leading the way down a long ramp, out into a chamber beyond.

As we continue along the walk, I marvel at the scope of the place.

Even from here, I can tell it's enormous.

The slope increases, taking us deeper underground, several stories by the time we reach the opening at the end of the ramp. At the bottom, the gap in the walls opens onto a concourse, framed by staggering metallic panels from floor to ceiling.

It's industrial.

Militaristic.

Unlike anything I've ever seen. The structure looks like it could withstand a nuclear bomb.

The illumination clicks out ahead of us, up the walls along runnels, seams in the sides of the reinforced material of the sealed atrium. All the way to the ceiling, the notches swell with white flickering bulbs, until the entire space is bright as day.

"Holy…" I whisper, marveling at the sheer immensity of it.

And at the twenty-foot vault door at the far end of the fifty-yard enclosure.

"Yes. Yes!" Rachelle's ecstatic whisper echoes between the narrower walls, up into the vaulted ceiling. "It was here all along. His treasure, taken with him to the grave!"

"Whatever is here, you can have," I say suddenly, wheeling on her.

Evan tenses, watching me closely, staying perfectly still at my side. I know he could intercept me, toss me aside in a heartbeat if I tried. There's no chance of making a move on her.

At least she had the decency to leave her raving disciples outside.

"Of course I can. It's mine ."

"You don't know how to open the door. I do," I bluff, squaring off with her.

"Pitiful child. I will get that door open. But you are family. And I would rather not make you do it. So ask me. Tell me what you want in return."

"Let my friends go. Let Evan go. We'll leave Sanctum and never come back."

"You think I would believe that for a minute? After everything you've done to salvage the rotting corpse of this city?"

"Yes. You won. I see that now. I just want to walk away with my life. With their lives." I look beseechingly at Evan, desperately wanting to reach out and take his hand.

He doesn't meet my gaze.

"The others can live. And I'll even let them leave. But Evan wants to be here. And your personal survival depends on your cooperation. Now, show me how to open this thing, my dear niece."

On shaky legs, I cross the long cement causeway, my footsteps clicking all around me in rhythmic echoes.

No visible handles or wheels mark any sort of mechanism to open the vast cog sealing the path forward. Several seconds pass as I scan the walls nearby, looking for a circuit board or box.

"Well?"

"I can't find the?—"

Rachelle points, guiding my search to a panel on a pedestal to the side of the walkway.

I don't have to feign my awkward and apologetic grimace as I shuffle over to the keypad. My nerves are shot to shit.

Not just because of the situation.

But because of what could possibly lie on the other side of this door.

It's a secret I have been searching for since I first learned about the Sinful, some unimaginable treasure buried under one of the mountains.

And it became even more tantalizing when I discovered that I was related to one of the Seven.

That my father was their lead member.

Scouring my frazzled memories, I rifle through what the code could be.

I must have read Damon's notes through half a dozen times in total.

Yet not a single code emerged from his memoirs.

No hidden message.

Only that this was supposedly all for me.

I'm starting to think it's all for nothing, a steaming pile of?—

Birthday.

On a whim, I punch in my birthday.

Nothing happens for a second.

Then a deep, hollow clunk quakes the floor, rattles through the walls.

And the cog shifts, rolling away. So. Fucking. Slowly.

By the time the entry is clear, Rachelle is nearly crawling out of her skin.

"Come on!" She shoves me forward as the lights stutter on, the same way they did out here.

I stumble into the dimness, looking around to find…

Nothing.

The shelves, the tables, the trunks, chests, and crates. All. Empty.

From wall to wall, it's clear that not a single gold ingot, paper bill, or technological asset remains in the room. All except for a computer accenting the middle table of the large room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Rachelle hisses, whipping me around to face her. "You came down here already, didn't you? You robbed me!"

Her slap takes me off guard, even though I see the fury warp her features.

"I didn't take shit! How could I have? There must have been truckloads of stuff in here…"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flicker, hear a click.

The monitor blinks on.

And a face I haven't seen except in photos for the past twenty years appears on the screen.

"To whom this may concern, and to whom may be standing at the threshold of this vault, feeling a bit confused about the state of the place…" He smirks at his wording, taking a breath.

"My name is Damon. And if you're watching this video, you must have figured out some crazy shit about Sanctum Harbor. Now, on the other hand, if you are one of us, or affiliated with the Sinful, you're likely wondering what the hell happened to the stockpile of wealth that you've heard so much about. Well, it's gone."

The video warbles a couple of times, Damon staring out from the digital display like he's waiting for some sort of reply. Or he's just giving us time to digest.

"You see, my sister, Rachelle Tyson, started killing off members of my organization years ago. When I figured that out, I knew we had to do something. Now, Rachelle, if you're watching this, I just want you to know that I always knew. I knew that you were out for blood. That you felt slighted by Dad's choice to pass the baton to me. Tough shit.

"Anyway, one by one, we dropped like flies. So I made a decision. Not to fill any of the seats. To let Rachelle run wild. That's the problem with anonymity among the Seven. I really didn't know who all of us were. Just that all communication would suddenly cease. So I couldn't prevent their deaths.

"I finally broke the rules and reached out to one of the only Sinful left alive, Xavier Clive, and I revealed our identities. And we made a pact."

The ache in my chest reminds me to keep breathing, glancing to the side. Rachelle is stock still, watching in horror as my father explains. It's like watching a car crash.

I'm not even sure if she can hear him at this point.

But I listen on.

"Our pact was to end this, once and for all. To not pass on this cursed legacy to our kids. And Rachelle, you saw to it for us. We just disposed of the rest.

"Now all that remains is for me to disappear, a choice I did not come to very easily. To be fair, and to avoid sounding like a martyr, I'll just say this in my defense. Stage four cancer is a shit way to die. So I'm going on my terms.

"If by some chance the person watching this is my daughter, Hellena, just know this. I love you. Always did. I have regrets, but none so great as the thought of your having to assume the burden of this responsibility. Live your life, Hemma. That's what your mom always called you. And I know she wanted you to follow your dreams.

"Good luck, kiddo." He grins, genuinely, sadness in his eyes. "With my death, the Sinful ends. Every account is liquidated, every asset is gone. Only you remain, Rachelle. And it's only a matter of time before you fail and the people have no use for you."

The monitor goes blank.

The vault is completely silent.

"No." I hear the desperate denial in her voice.

When I turn to look at her, I see Rachelle crumpling, collapsing in on herself.

And all I can do is walk away, out into the antechamber where Evan is still standing there, looking lost. Less intimidating. Just scared.

I'm almost back to the entrance when I hear the slap of footsteps behind me, rushing toward me.

"This is your fault!" Rachelle's shriek is the only other warning I get as I lunge to escape her clawing fingers, the knife in her white-knuckled fist.

But her fingers snare my shirt, yanking me forward. My feet tangle, driving me painfully to my knees.

And I look up into the face of a monster, pressing the tip of a knife to my throat.