“You sure you’re OK, baby?”
“We’re fine. We’re completely fine. What happened, Twitch?”
He kissed her hard on the mouth, then on the forehead, then left her in the room. Nimble led them back downstairs, down the length of the bar, and around the corner to a large end booth. Two rough-looking gentlemen sat shoulder-to-shoulder next to each other, surrounded by seven much rougher-looking gentlemen. Three recognized the seven as regulars.
“These ones here,” said Nimble, wagging a finger at the two men pressed in the middle of the booth. “Come run in ask about Miss Mol, say the Bonefolder needs talk to her. I tell ’em get faffed.”
“Faff off, ye!” one of the regulars shouted, for no apparent reason.
“And ’ems start get rowdy. Actin’ for show, y’know. And ol’ Nimble say nay go round here, no sir.” He looked at the two men for emphasis. “NAY. GO. ROUND HERE.”
Twitch let out a laugh then, a genuine laugh of relief and joy. He slapped Nimble hard on the back, leaned his forehead into his bartender’s in some version of a hug. Started handing out backpats to the regular seven.
“Well thank you, Nimble. This is why I let you run the place. You take better care of it than I do. Open the bar up for everybody.”
“And about ’em?”
Twitch thought about it for about two seconds.
“Strip ’em. Tie their arms around each other. Let ’em walk back to Bonefolder.”
“Aright then.”
“Make sure they’re facing each other. And tie ’em tight.”
“A course, sir.”
Twitch led Three back to the main room, where the bar seemed to be carrying on as usual.
“Good people, Twitch.”
“You gotta have a few, Three. What now?”
“I gotta go find my girl.”
“Let me tell Mol—”
“No, you stay.”
“We’re not doing this again, Three.”
“Good reason this time. They might try again, I’d feel better if you stayed. I’ll move faster without you.”
“Alright, I’ll buy that this time. But if they’ve got her, don’t you go in there on your own. You come right back here, and we’ll get my boys up a right proper army, you understand?”
“Fine. I’m gone.”
“Godspeed, brother.”
Three turned and strode to the door, half a catastrophe averted, the other half unknown. He reached for the door, and it flew open, catching him in the chin and forehead. He saw stars.
And then, he saw her.
Cass. Alive and well. Carrying a case and a backpack.
He grabbed her and pulled her in, holding her as tight as he could, wishing he could bring her even closer.
“Three?”
He pulled away, looked her over. “Are you alright, Cass? Did you have any trouble?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, shook her head.
“No. No trouble. You?”
“Maybe.”
“Is Wren OK?”
“Yeah, he’s upstairs. You get everything you need?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“Good. Cause we’re gonna have to move again. Now.”
“Like, right now?”
Three nodded. Brain already racing to do the calculations. They were going to have to disappear, fast. Train was out, no doubt about that. Only a few hours of daylight left. Not enough to go far. But there was no way they could stay in Greenstone now.
And what about Mol and Twitch?
“Come on,” Three said. “Let’s get upstairs. We gotta get this sorted out.”
He slipped his hand along the small of Cass’s back, and steered her through the bar, up the stairs, into the apartment. And as he watched Cass drop to a knee and Wren run into her arms, Three knew, and let himself know, that he loved them both in a way he’d never thought possible.
Twenty-One
The apartment was a whirlwind; explanations colliding with improvised plans and haphazard packing. Mol was busy in the kitchen, preparing some fragrant dish that Cass thought couldn’t possibly be finished before they had to leave.
“You just left? They just let you walk right out the front door?” Cass demanded.
jCharles threw a bundle of chemlights across the room to Three, and chuckled. “Shoulda seen the look on that old crow’s face when you turned around. I think she got stuck trying to calculate the odds of you actually doing what you were doing.”
“Any more time we spent in there was time we weren’t usin’ to get to you. The drop? They let you keep the money for charity?”
“It was recommended I take both.”
“Recommended? You still got any of that goo?” Three asked Twitch, mid-sentence, then switched back. “This is serious Cass, how many were there, how many did you leave, and in what state?”
She flipped through the high-def images in her mind, like a reel of still frames, perfectly preserved. Even the pattern the blood-spit spray made out of the Limper’s mouth when his head hit the table.
“Seven total. Two dead, one stunned, two unconscious, one crying, one screaming.”
jCharles shot her a concerned look.
“Tyke crying, Jantz the screamer. I took a little meat out of his leg, but he’ll be fine. They’re both alright. Big fans of yours, too, by the way.”
He nodded, but didn’t smile. “I’d heard. Here,” he threw three packets from the storage room over to Three. “Probably tastes terrible by now, but it should still get you there. Four ounces, three times a day.” Then back to Cass. “They set you up?”
Cass shook her head. “I think the Bonefolder got to them after you’d made the deal. Saw an opportunity.”
“Opportunity’s her game.”
“The ones you left unconscious?” said Three.
“One was Tyke’s friend, I’d guess. About the same age, had a backpack. When it all went down, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open. The other, not sure. Servorganic arms at least. Not sure if he was Tyke’s hired man, or Bonefolder’s.”
“Big guy? Fake greenman outfit?” jCharles asked.
“That’s the one.”
“Unconscious, or dead?”
“Not sure, but I’d have to guess unconscious. I dropped him pretty hard, but I didn’t stop to check.”
jCharles flicked a look to Three.
“Problem?” Three said.
“Bonefolder’s nephew. She lets him handle the easy jobs. Might’ve been kinder to put him down.”
“Mama?”
The quiet voice captured the chaos, stole the energy from the room.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” Wren stood next to the couch, looking tiny, lost. Verge of tears.
“I don’t think I can leave again.”
Cass crossed to him, sat on the couch, pulled him close.
“Baby, what’s the matter?”
The others held still, just observed, afraid to disturb the delicate balance of the moment. Wren just shook his head.
“Are you tired?”
“No,” he answered, quietly.
“Did you take a nap while I was gone?”
“No.”
“Maybe you should lie down for a—”
“No!” he barked, with the sharpest tone Cass had ever heard from him. She slid back involuntarily. “I don’t wanna lie down, I don’t wanna a nap! I wanna stay here! I don’t want to leave!”
And then he broke into sobs, deep, soul-shaking sobs, and Cass wrapped her arms around him, and he stood there with his arms at his sides, just weeping. Cass saw Mol, realized she’d come from the kitchen, hovering. Wanting to help, not wanting to interfere. Cass caught her eye and motioned to the back room, and Mol nodded.
Cass gently lifted Wren up, and laid his head on her shoulder as he let it all out, weeks of terror and confusion and exhaustion. She took him to the back room and as she was closing the door, she saw Mol there, watching them the whole way, a sad look in her eye. Compassion. Longing. Cass motioned to her, for her to join them. At first, Mol refused, but jCharles nudged her, and she finally relented; joined the mother and child in the room. They sat on the bed together, Cass on one side, Mol on the other, with Wren tucked between. And they let him cry and cry, and would let him continue until he had no more tears to give.