Below her a sudden croak sounded, startled her, made her lose focus just as she was mid-step, floating between foothold and handhold. Her foot slipped sideways on the cable beneath her, twisting her around out of reach of the grip she’d been reaching for, and she slammed her back into the edge of something hard. Above her, a shadow within shadows swept across the cables; she sensed it more than saw it. Three. He would save her. For a moment Cass dangled out in space, one quivering hand her only connection to the physical world. Then that too was gone.
She felt his fingertips brush hers as she slipped away into the darkness below. The first impact caught her across the back, knocking the breath from her lungs and throwing her forward. Another six feet down Cass slammed into a pair of cables where they met in an X. It bent her double with a searing pain across her belly, and the speed of her fall flipped her headfirst. In a flash of instinct, she managed to hook one elbow around the cable as she spun over the top. That probably saved her life. The cable bit deeply, but she slowed herself just long enough to make a desperate grab with her other hand. With a solid grip supporting her for a moment, her feet scrabbled and found stability on the scaffolding below. She readjusted, got two good handholds, steadied herself. Still alive, somehow.
Cass’s back muscles were still seized, and she fought to suck air into her lungs, if not to breathe at least to scream. She could hear above her now Three’s quick movements drawing closer, descending with such swiftness she felt certain at any moment he’d plummet past her to his own death. He reached her about the time she got her first breath.
Even in crisis, Three remained stoic. He continued down past her without a word, climbed in just underneath her with his shoulder near her waist. He shifted his weight, seemed to be testing for secure footing. Then, he pressed into her, his shoulder firm and sure against her stomach, raising her up and taking her weight from her hands and feet. The pressure sent fire coursing through her middle, and she bit into her lip to stifle a cry. Surely he didn’t mean to carry her.
“Arm around my neck,” he whispered, barely audible. Slowly, painfully, Cass draped her arm over the back of Three’s neck, along his left shoulder. He grasped her wrist, shifted her across his shoulders, distributing her weight as evenly as possible in a sort of fireman’s carry.
“Now,” he breathed, words hardly more than wind in the air, “be still.”
And with that, he began to climb.
Twelve
The ascent was slow and painful for Cass, every upward movement sending shockwaves through her damaged body. She couldn’t imagine how Three must’ve been feeling. He made no complaints, but there was no doubt the climb was taking its toll, even on him.
Not a machine after all, she thought.
Sweat poured, soaked through his coat where she was laid across his shoulders. Muscles strained, trembling slightly. Pauses between movements grew longer. Three seemed to be gearing himself up for each effort. Cass had no idea how far they had left to climb. It was tough to judge their height from her vantage point, where she felt lost somewhere between sideways and upside-down. She thought about giving it another try herself. Her mistake had only almost cost them one life. A mistake now would cost at least two, and probably a third, later. But she knew her body was spent. Her head was swimming, and occasional waves of nausea were washing over her with increasing frequency and strength. Three had asked her to be still, and that was something she absolutely could do.
Glancing down to judge their distance, Cass was surprised to see she could still make out details far below despite the darkness. The street underneath them was tinted in a faint blue, not unlike moonlight. It took her groggy mind a few seconds to realize what that meant, to replay her fall and what had caused it.
Weir.
Two shapes moved in the darkness, their electric starlight eyes roving. A muted burst of white noise from one. A soft answering call from the other in that otherworldly, organic static. Almost like the quiet whuffing of wolves in the night. Cass wondered briefly if that was how they whispered.
To her surprise, Three thrust upwards to a new position. He must have known the Weir were in the street below. Apparently far less concerned by them than she was. Cass only then realized she was holding her breath. The Weir crept along beneath them, and continued out from under the maglev line, picking their way cautiously in the direction of the Vault. Soon enough they were lost in the night.
Three jolted again, driving upwards, and something round and hard thudded off the top of Cass’s head with a dull, metallic thunk. A broad and throbbing pain radiated through her skull, down her spine, and into her toes. She squeezed her eyes shut, saw stars, bit off the cry that tried to escape her lips.
“I am so sorry,” Three hissed. “You OK?”
Cass realized he’d bounced her head off the underside of the maglev line. They’d reached the top.
“Fine,” she whispered, still not opening her eyes. Another wave of nausea washed over her, the strongest yet. She hoped she didn’t have a concussion.
“Can you pull yourself up?”
Cass shifted slowly, carefully, and saw that they were just underneath the main line, where a gap about two feet wide allowed access to the top side of the track. In answer to Three’s question, she reached up and dragged herself up through the gap. Flopped on her belly. Pulled leaden legs along behind. And lay still.
Three joined her a few moments later, lying on his back, drawing deep breaths. For a while, the two of them just lay there, recovering. The wind was colder up here; more constant, more biting. Cass rolled to her back, shoulder to shoulder with Three, eyes still closed as she fought off the vertigo.
She felt him shift closer, press into her, felt his warmth against her arm.
“Hey,” he said, close now. “Take a look.”
Cass couldn’t tell from his tone what she’d see when she opened her eyes. When she did, she gasped. Above her, the sky was afire.
Stars. More than she’d ever seen; beyond counting, beyond even imagining. Like a spray of diamonds cast across a sea of velvet. Light, wispy clouds glowed from a half-moon, blending some stars into a milky translucence and highlighting the burning intensity of those out of the clouds’ reach.
Instinctively, Cass stretched out a hand as though she could feel them, or collect them. And instantly thought of Wren, longed for him, knew how awestruck he would’ve been to see what she now saw.
“I wish Wren…” she started, and couldn’t finish. She shut her eyes again, felt tears roll, chilling her cheeks in the wind.
“He’ll see ’em one day,” Three whispered. “Promise.”
Cass didn’t respond. She thought back to Wren’s two word pim, wondered what it meant. Maybe he was hiding. Or in danger. Or worried about Asher discovering their location. Why had she ever let him go?
“Come on. Let’s get you out of this wind.”
Three rose to his knees.
“Give me another minute.”
“Feeling sick?”
Cass was too tired to lie. She nodded without thinking.
“Repeater probably. You’ll get used to it after a while.”
She had no idea what he meant, and it took too much effort to talk so she didn’t ask. Just another minute. Her injuries and nausea and exhaustion mingled into some unholy perfection of personal pain. But she could force herself up in another minute. Maybe two.