He gave the matter no further thought as he went into the shelter and down the steps to the door leading into the underground tunnels. From somewhere around the front gates, Panther continued to yell wildly, his voice strident and insistent. Logan smiled. The boy was good. He tried the door and found it sealed, but a touch of his staff against the lock and it was burned through in seconds. He pushed the door open and, after stepping inside, pushed it closed again. He went down the tunnel without slowing, his eyes adjusting to the darkness as he went. He chose his path when the tunnel branched, using his wrist compass to guide him, moving ahead until he had passed beneath the walls of the compound and was inside its underground hallways. He had mapped his route to Hawk's cell in his mind, a skill he had perfected over the years while serving with Michael. Their raids on the slave camps often required that they descend into tunnels. If you couldn't remember how you went in, you might not be able to get out again. It was more complicated here, but he recalled enough from his earlier visit to know approximately where he needed to go. The problem was in finding the right level, but he knew it would be somewhere near the basement of the complex.
Twice he was forced to stop and wait in the shadows while someone passed by only yards away. Once he had to backtrack and go around a place where men were working. There was little traffic this deep underground, this far down in the lower levels, so the risks were not as great as they would have been if he had been forced to climb to the surface.
He began to recognize corridors, their walls and doors and entries. He was close.
Then he rounded a corner and came face–to–face with the guard who had admitted him into Hawk's cell only hours before. They stopped instantly, facing each other, and Logan said, "Hello again," snapped one end of his staff against the side of the other's head, and dropped him in his tracks.
He found an open door, dragged the guard inside, took his keys from his belt, and left him. He moved ahead quickly, searching for the cell that contained Hawk, a search that took him no more than another five minutes. A quick glance ahead and behind confirmed that he was alone. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the heavy metal door.
The cell was empty.
"ARE YOU ALL right?" Hawk whispered when they brought Tessa over and sat her down beside him.
She nodded without speaking. Her face was ashen and tear–streaked, her hair disheveled, and her hands shaking. She had the look of someone who had been struck a sharp blow and was still in shock.
He looked out over the top of the compound wall to where the sun was sinking toward the mountains in the western horizon. Another fifteen minutes, no more. They had brought him up early, trying to unnerve him, he thought, trying to see if he would break down. They hadn't said or done anything to him, but he couldn't think of any other reason to make him sit and wait like this. In any case, it didn't matter. He had come to terms with the future. Escape seemed out of the question. Either someone would come to save them or they would die.
"I'm sorry about your mother," he said to her.
She exhaled sharply. "Did you see her face? Did you see how she looked at me?" She shook her head. "What's happened to her?"
He scuffed the toes of his tennis shoes against the concrete. "Maybe you just saw a side to her you didn't know was there."
She closed her eyes. "I wish I had never seen her like that. I'll never forget how she made me feel. In front of all those people. In front of you. I will never forget."
Hawk said nothing, bent forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at his feet. He breathed in the taste and smell of the bay, of the coldness blown in off the water, and the hard edge of the coming night. The year was winding down, and while the seasons no longer behaved in recognizable ways, lacking identity of the sort people had once known, he could feel winter's bite in the air. He watched the sun begin to press down against the mountains to the west.
Time was almost up. He glanced around, thinking again of escape, searching for a way. But there was nowhere to go. A dozen armed guards stood close by. All the exits down off the wall were blocked. They were unfettered and could try to break free, but their chances were almost nonexistent. They would be seized and hauled back to their seats before they got ten steps. The only way open to them was forward, over the edge.
He looked at Tessa, and the soft line of her face brought tears to his eyes. It seemed impossible to think that they were going to die.
"Is there a child?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I only said that to try to buy us some time, to make them rethink what they were going to do."
He nodded. "It was a good try."
"It was a waste of time. They had already decided."
"Even if we were married, I guess."
"Even if."
"I would have married you if it would have changed things. If they would have let us."
"That decision isn't theirs to make. It's ours."
The sharpness in her voice surprised him. "We waited too long, in any case," he said.
Her hand closed over his wrist. "No, we didn't." Her words were whispered and urgent. "We still have time. Say the words to me." She looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Say you take me for your wife."
He hesitated, and then repeated, "I take you for my wife."
"And I take you for my husband," she replied.
He held her gaze. "I don't want them to throw us from the walls. I don't want them to put their hands on us."
She nodded. "I know."
His hand tightened over hers. "I want us to jump."
She stared at him, transfixed. "Jump?"
"Before they can throw us off. Before they can touch us. I want us to do it on our own. I want us to be free when we go over."
She started to say something, but the words seemed locked in her throat.
There were fresh tears in her eyes. "I don't think I can do that," she whispered.
He looked out to where birds were winging their way across the color–streaked sky. One of them, he thought, might be his namesake. He wanted to fly, to soar above everything, to lift away to somewhere he could never be reached.
He took a deep breath. No rescue was at hand. No one was coming. To one side, four of the guards were clustered around the compound Chairman, a man named Cole who had told Hawk earlier that he was sorry about what was going to happen, but hadn't meant it. The men were whispering and glances were being cast in their direction. They were getting ready to carry out the sentence.
He looked back at Tessa. "Now," he said.
Her hand locked tight on his wrist. "I can't."
"I love you, Tessa," he said.
"I love you, too." Her head lowered into shadow. "But I can't."
"Just don't look. Just hold on to me."
They were too late. The guards were coming toward them, grim–faced in the failing light. Hawk started to his feet, tried to pull Tessa up with him, but she refused to follow, sitting where she was, crying softly. The guards seized them by their shoulders, yanked them to their feet, and began walking them forward.
"Don't do this," Hawk pleaded, glancing from face to face, and then in desperation back at Cole, who stood watching impassively. "Cowards!" he screamed at them.
No one responded to him. He looked around wildly. Was there really no one coming? His mother's words recalled themselves anew. Trust in me. His free hand went to his pocket and closed about the bones.