It was now or never.
She leaned forward and plunged into the darkness. After a surprisingly short fall, she bounced off of a cloth net, out of the chute, and onto another floor, where she landed on top of three bags of trash. She was in a room identical to the one she’d just left, but perhaps one floor down. Sage, too, bounced off the net and landed next to her with a thud.
Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That was some kind of dumpster?”
Sage’s face had gone white. “There wasn’t supposed to be a net. Someone knew we were coming.”
Marching feet thundered in the hall, and Sage grabbed Charlie’s hand, yanked open the door, and ran.
Charlie’s legs felt wobbly beneath her, and she realized for the first time just how weak the lack of food had made her. “What’s going on, Sage?”
The marching grew louder as Charlie’s own feet slammed against the wooden floors. Her lungs clenched in her chest, begging her to slow down even as her legs sped up. Paneled cherry wood lined the walls, and Sage pointed down the corridor.
“I know where we are. There’s a door up there on the left. Hide in there,” she panted. “The chancellor’s chambers will be empty at this time of day, and you’ll be safe. They won’t think to look for you there.” The stomping grew louder behind them. “I’ll lose these guys, create a diversion, and find you in there after.”
Charlie nodded. Sage must have realized she was too weak to keep running. “Good luck, Sage,” she said, before running toward the door. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, wishing she still had a pair of her chopsticks, and turned. “You’re a great friend!” she yelled, and the girl beamed.
The chamber’s doors creaked as she opened them, and she quickly slipped inside and shut them behind her. She stuck her ear to the door, and held her breath—muttering a quick prayer for Sage as the stomping thundered past. She’d escaped. Well, sort of. She’d been lucky the door was unlocked. She figured she could probably hide in the shadows of the chancellor’s chambers for a while, and eventually, Sage would return and find her.
Charlie looked around the chambers, but the room was dark, and she didn’t dare turn on a light. The only thing she could see was a lone object: a glowing green orb on the corner of the chancellor’s desk. Swirls danced in its depths. Charlie had never seen anything like it.
Entranced, Charlie stroked her fingers across the orb. It felt like glass, and was surprisingly warm to the touch. She pressed her palm against it and felt something that reminded her of a pulse. Energy. Like a beating heart.
Her eyes were gradually adjusting to the dim light, and now she could see that a thick cord stretched from the orb’s side, running across the floor and underneath the frame of a black door in the corner. A coat closet, perhaps?
Charlie twisted its handle.
Locked.
She gently tugged on the thick, rope-like cord. The cord glowed faintly green, and a surge of electricity ran from her fingers to her chest. Burning. Pain. Her heart skipped briefly in her chest, and she released the cord. It had shocked her.
There was a noise from the hallway just outside; someone was fumbling with the door. With nowhere else to hide, Charlie quickly ducked under the room’s desk, curling her legs beneath her. She had to hold her knees with her hands to keep them from shaking.
“We’ve got it back,” called a voice she recognized as the chancellor’s. “The Indigo Report. And Neevlor’s dead.”
A woman’s voice responded. It sounded like she was right next to Charlie. “Excellent,” the woman said. It was a soothing voice, the way a lemon menthol drop felt on a sore throat.
Charlie’s heart pounded. The woman was clearly standing right next to the desk. Someone else had been in the room the whole time. And Charlie had missed her. How had she missed her? She heard the quiet crack of lips as the woman’s mouth spread into a smile.
“Someone’s here to see you, Hackner,” said the woman, in her soothing voice. “She’s under the desk. You were right about them using the chute. The net worked like a charm.” The woman paused, then laughed. “Come on out, Charlie Minos. We promise we won’t bite.”
Charlie’s heart rose and fell in her chest. She peeked her head out only to see the chancellor charging at her from across the room. He wrapped his hands around her throat.
“Should I kill her?” he asked someone.
Charlie’s vision disappeared in specks, then in patches. Finally it faded into a dull black. This is how Sage sees, she thought.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the woman. “The people will do it.”
“And how’s that?” asked Hackner.
Charlie felt her body fall limply to the floor. Her vision came back slowly, in cross-hatched patches.
Across from where she lay, a woman in a blue suit had sprawled herself across a chaise lounge. Their eyes met, and Charlie felt she could almost see a chill run down the woman’s spine.
“Oh, oh god,” the woman said.
The chancellor stepped toward her. “What is it, Miranda?”
Miranda shook her head. “Nothing. It’s nothing, you idiot. Forget I said anything. But tell me, Hackner,” Charlie felt Miranda’s eyes bore into her soul. “How’s her hair?”
Hackner roughly yanked at Charlie’s hair. It came out in clumps.
Miranda clucked her lips. “I’m afraid the blond just won’t do. And it’s already so thin. If only it were black…” She paused. “I suppose, actually, that bald might work better for our purposes. Yes, I think bald will be all right.”
The chancellor looked confused. “What are you talking about, Miranda?”
“Without her hair, a girl’s hardly recognizable. We’ll have her head shaved this evening, Hackner. The press will be drawn to her bald, glowing head like flies to a light bulb.”
Miranda crossed the room and knelt next to Charlie, then whispered softly in her ear. “Ah, my darling, have we got plans for you…”
Chapter 26
The Skelewick district’s wrought-iron streetlamps threw their hauntingly familiar yellow glow across the streets. I pulled my cheeseburger socks halfway up my calves. Kindred had washed them, and insisted I wear them.
“Put on your cheeseburger socks,” she’d said with a smile. “For good luck, dear.”
Or perhaps for my funeral.
For some reason, I wished she’d come with us. Sparky, too, with Tim lazily napping on his back. But it was just me, Mila, and Phoenix. Phoenix had called us the “recon” team. I suppose Bugsy had once been a part of it too.
I wondered if the others knew what would happen to me after the mission. Did they know I was going to die, and that Phoenix would kill me? I guessed they didn’t. Kindred, especially, seemed too soft for that sort of thing. Phoenix would probably tell them it was an accident. Blame it on the Feds, like he’d done with Bugsy.
I wondered if Bugsy’s death had been an accident too, or if Mila had killed him. She seemed like the type who might. Didn’t show her emotions. Wasn’t visibly upset when he died. Might be a sociopath.
She sharpened her blade against the light pole, smiling slightly when it screeched loudly.
Definitely a sociopath.
The denizens of Skelewick didn’t seem to mind the noise. They wandered the streets in their trance-like state: pupils dilated, mouths half open. Zombies beholden only to the light.
I remembered the man hawking watches on the corner. For the lost souls, he’d said mysteriously, as he pointed at his wares. But all the souls in this district seemed lost. Probably why he stocked so many watches.