Painter appeared from the bathroom, mostly clean now, and looking much more in control. He just nodded and formed up next to them.
“Stay close to me,” Cass said. “And quiet.”
Wren held his breath while she eased the door open again. But whatever he’d seen mustn’t have been there now, because Mama slipped out into the hallway and pulled him along behind her. He was thankful that they were headed the opposite direction from the shadow. Wren was afraid to look back behind them, but he was more afraid not to, so he risked a peek. Nothing was following.
Cass led them around a corner and down a set of stairs to a lower level.
“What about the cuh-cuh-curfew?” Painter whispered.
“It’s alright,” Wren said. “They won’t stop us.”
“No, Painter’s right,” Cass answered. “We can’t let anyone see us. If Connor was in on it, there’s no telling which of the guard might be on his side. And we don’t want anyone to know where we are, or where we’re going, anyway. We’ll have to be careful.” She paused, and then added half to herself, “And maybe lucky.”
They moved through a darkened hallway to a side entrance.
“Wren, door,” Cass whispered. He didn’t really respond, just flipped the lock. She eased it open. Checked for any guards — or anyone else, really. Then she pulled the door closed again, and turned back to them both. “We’re going to move quickly, but keep your eyes open. We’ll try to avoid patrols, but if we get spotted, just keep your heads down and keep moving. Stay with me, alright? Stay right with me.”
Wren nodded, and then Painter did too. And with that, Cass pushed the door open once more, and the three of them moved out into the cool night air. For the first time, Wren felt that it was a far more dangerous thing to be trapped inside the wall than outside.
TEN
Cass kept the boys behind her at a corner, pressed against the outer wall of a darkened shop, waiting for the patrol to move further down the road. She counted three guardsmen, though from the way they were positioned, she got the feeling there were actually four of them out there. Or maybe she was truly feeling the fourth; those signals she was still learning to read. Yes, there. Trailing the others by a good thirty yards, holding himself to the far side of the street while they followed the center. Walking clean-up.
Cass waited until the guards had disappeared from view before she signaled the others to move forward. Wren clung close, a hand on her lower back, silently and fluidly adapting to her movement. They smoothly crossed the open stretch of ground and threaded their way through a narrow alley on the other side, turning right where it intersected in a T with another alley. At this rate, they’d make their destination in five, maybe seven more minutes. It hadn’t been the most direct route by any means, but so far it’d been the right one. They stopped again at the mouth of the alley, pausing to assess. If the guard was running four-man patrols, they probably wouldn’t be so close together. But now wasn’t the time to risk probably.
Cass glanced over her shoulder at Wren. His eyes were bright in the dim light, and focused. He still had his hand on her lower back; just enough pressure to be sure he was there, without pushing or hindering her movement. If he was feeling any fear, he was doing a masterful job of hiding it.
Painter was a different story. Cass looked up to check on him, and wasn’t reassured. Ever since they’d left her room, his face had been a constant mask of utter desperation. His eyes never stopped roving, as if danger might leap out at them from every angle. It was like he’d already decided they were doomed and was just waiting for the proof. And whenever they moved, everything he did seemed loud to her. His footsteps, the rustle of his clothing, his breathing. Loud.
Whenever they stopped, Painter had a distracting way of clutching at Wren and at her. Completely different from Wren’s touch. Wren’s hand on her was a method of communication, a sign that he was with her, really with her, moving, stopping, and moving again as one. Painter, on the other hand, clawed at them like they were a raft for a drowning man. As if he was afraid they might push out into the darkness and leave him drifting behind.
Wren patted her lower back twice, quickly, and she returned her attention to the street ahead. It looked clear. But as Cass started to move forward, she felt Wren’s hand clench, enough change to make her hold position. She scanned the street again, slower this time, looking for any sign of anyone, guard, citizen, or otherwise. But came up empty. She turned slowly back to look at Wren and when she did, he pointed. Across the street. And up.
Cass followed the line from his finger. Across the street. Up. The building directly across from them was three stories high. The windows were all dark, but there was a sign glowing orange along the top. Cass squinted against the glare, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the buzzing light. Nothing. And then. There. The scantest silhouette, black against a midnight blue sky. Shoulders, head, little more, with just a trace of soft halo where she detected his electromagnetic aura. How Wren had seen him, she had no idea, but for now it was enough that he had. She turned back to Wren and Painter, hunched low.
“Back,” Cass whispered, barely louder than an exhalation. “We’ll have to cut around the other side.”
Wren nodded. Painter just looked scared. Cass noticed he had a hand on Wren’s shoulder, and Wren’s coat was all bunched up in his fist. She tried not to be annoyed. And for a split second she wondered if this was how Three felt about her the first time he took her into the open. Not now. She shoved Three from her thoughts and retraced her steps back down the alley.
But as they approached the point where the two alleys intersected, a chill gripped Cass and she stopped dead. Strained with all her senses. There was someone else in the alley.
She pressed back against the wall, and with her arm swept the other two against it as well. For a moment, there was nothing. But then, a soft sound from around the corner. An inhalation. And then without warning, a white light splashed on the wall across from them, illuminating them all in its glow.
“Someone down there?” the Someone Else called. A younger male, or a gruffer female. Trying to sound authoritative. There was uncertainty, but not fear. Cass felt Wren press in closer, and someone clutched her sleeve. Footsteps, now: slow and cautious, approaching. “Hello?”
Cass’s mind raced through the options. Backing up again was out. The guy on the roof had that end covered. They could wait, hope whoever it was would just turn around. That seemed unlikely. She could announce herself. There was a good chance that a guard wouldn’t try to do anything other than report her position. But they were close enough to their destination that if the guard called it in, it wouldn’t take long for any other Council members to put the pieces together. If any other Council members were even in on it. Too many unknowns.
“I know you’re back there, so come on out. Easy.”
The footsteps were getting closer, and Cass heard the distinctive click and hum of a coilgun powering up. No way for one of those to be used for nonlethal means. Apparently they weren’t taking any chances with the curfew.
She might have to just ambush the guard, avoid the weapon, go for the quick knockout. Cass was fast enough. But there was always the chance for that to go wrong and get noisy. And there was always the chance that this guard was on the right side of things, anyway. That was the trouble with betrayal… even the innocent became suspect.
None of them seemed like good options, but they were running out of time. She’d announce herself, and hope the guard didn’t come looking far enough to see the others. That might leave some chance of a cover story, if they needed one.