Nick turns to me, beaming, clearly pleased with his transformation. “Hey, Ash, what do you think?”
“You look hideous,” I tease.
“I didn’t have much to work with,” he zings back.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I say to him, ignoring the frosty look from Roach.
“Yeah, sure! Look, we’re all in this together, plus I owe you after Natalie rescued me from that Destroyer Ship.” A shadow passes over his eyes, but he blinks it away. “Besides, I’m digging the makeup.”
“Okay, five-minute countdown, everyone,” Roach says. “Say your good-byes now.”
Sigur stays outside in the ghetto with the Legion guards, splitting the Darklings into their groups. We said our farewells earlier today, knowing he’d be busy. We kept the conversation light, although we both knew it could be the last time we’d ever see each other.
Elijah enters the room at that moment, and I can smell blood on him, sick, diseased blood. It quickly becomes apparent what Sigur asked him to do. I bet the hospital ward where the Wraths were being cared for is now empty. It was the kindest thing. We couldn’t take them with us, and since normal poisons don’t work on Darklings, a dose of Bastet venom would’ve done the trick. At least it would’ve been fast—I doubt they felt much pain, and Elijah’s not at any risk of getting infected; he has a natural immunity to the Wrath since the C18-Virus is present in his venom.
“Sigur wanted you to know that Martha’s arrived,” Elijah says. “She’s outside with him now. She’ll be going with Harold’s team.”
Natalie lets out a relieved sigh. I know she loves her old Darkling housemaid very much. Martha’s been staying with some members of Humans for Unity the past two months.
We check our provisions, and then it’s time to say our good-byes. Beetle’s group is the first to leave, as they’ll be planting the bombs in the Cinderstone factories.
“See you in Centrum, bro,” Beetle says.
“Try not to get blown up again,” I tease, referring to the time he bombed the Boundary Wall.
He laughs. “I can’t promise anything.”
Roach just nods a curt good-bye at me, her mind already on the mission ahead. Day hugs her family members, trying hard not to cry. MJ clings to her. His burns from the house fire are healing nicely, and we gave him plenty of pain medication to take along with him for his back, so he should be all right.
“Be a brave boy, okay?” Day says.
MJ nods, sniffing.
Sumrina gives a little squeak as she holds back her tears. “Take care, my precious girl. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mama, Papa,” Day replies, hugging them again.
Day wipes her eyes, then comes over to us. We awkwardly shake hands—Day and I have never really managed to form a friendship—then she briefly hugs Natalie before picking up her satchel and rushing out of the room.
Natalie takes a shaky breath. I lightly kiss her forehead.
“She’ll be okay,” I say. “Beetle will take care of her.”
Next out the door is Juno’s group; they are going to plant the bomb in the Park—the neighborhood in the city where the rich used to live, like Natalie’s family, before it was destroyed in last year’s air raids. Nick, Juno and Stuart say quick good-byes, while Amy flings her arms around Natalie. It’s strange seeing the two of them side by side, looking so alike.
“Good luck! Oh, heavens, is that bad luck? Do I mean ‘break a leg’?” Amy says in a rush.
“I think that only applies in the theater,” Natalie says.
“Phew! Well . . . good luck! I’ll see you in Centrum.” She leans conspiratorially toward us, keeping her voice low. “Do you remember how to apply your makeup?”
“I’ve got it,” Natalie says kindly. The makeup is part of our escape plan.
Amy hugs Elijah, then turns shyly to me. “Bye, Ash.”
I give her a quick peck on the cheek, and her face flushes bright red. She hurries over to Juno, and they leave.
I check the gray satchel beside my blue duffel bag, by my feet. The satchel holds the explosives we’ll set around Chantilly Lane Market. Roach gave us a crash course in how to detonate the bombs. It sounds simple enough: in Roach’s words, “just flip the switch and run like hell.”
Garrick strides over and picks up the satchel. “I’ll carry these.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll—”
“No one’s going to care if my head gets blown off,” he interrupts, his metallic eyes glinting.
I don’t argue. “Thanks.”
Natalie and Elijah deal with our final preparations while I find Dad. He’s standing by the window at the far end of the room, away from everyone else.
“I didn’t think I’d be saying good-bye to you again so soon,” he says, referring to the time we said farewell in my prison cell, just before my execution.
“Hey, on the plus side, at least I’m not about to be crucified,” I say. “That’s better than last time.”
He chuckles, but the sound gets caught in his throat. He pulls me into an embrace, and I wrap my arms around him, holding on for as long as I can.
“I’ll be okay,” I whisper.
“I know you will,” he says, releasing me. “I’m so proud of you, son.”
I smile. “Love you, Dad.”
He ruffles my hair. “Get on out of here.”
I join Natalie, Elijah and Garrick by the door and sling my blue duffel bag over my shoulder; it contains our disguises and my mom’s keepsake box. Natalie and Elijah each carry their own duffel bags filled with provisions.
I take one last look at my friends and family, and say a silent good-bye to them all. Despite all our promises, I suspect we’re never going to meet again. As we walk past the window, I peer up at the Destroyer Ships blocking out the starlight. I don’t think I’m going to survive this war. I may have risen from the ashes like a phoenix, but like the mythical bird, I know my fate is to die in flames.
15.
ASH
CHANTILLY LANE MARKET is deathly silent as we navigate the dark, narrow alleyways between the market stalls. Even the colorful flags outside each stall are still, like the very city itself is holding its breath. Every few hundred yards, Garrick carefully plants a bomb under one of the stalls, targeting the shops with the most flammable merchandise.
“How long do we have?” Natalie asks.
I check the digital monitors on the buildings surrounding the market. The bright yellow numbers of the countdown display read 24:10:00.
“Ten minutes before the factories blow up,” I say. “Let’s get a move on.”
We reach Mollie McGee’s Tavern—a popular drinking establishment with the Sentry guards—and Garrick breaks down the door. We grab bottles of Shine from behind the bar and pour it all over the floor before going outside and dousing the flags and market stalls with the flammable liquid. It’ll help carry the flames to the other stalls, maximizing the damage to the area. I plant the last bomb outside the tavern, and look at the countdown again.
“Five seconds before first strike,” I say.
We watch the seconds tick away:
24:00:05
24:00:04
24:00:03
24:00:02
24:00:01
24:00:00
BOOM!
The explosion roars through the city, sending vibrations up and down our bodies. In the distance, a plume of fire and smoke over a hundred feet tall soars into the air, lighting the sky. It can mean only one thing: the Cinderstone factories are ablaze. Beetle has succeeded.
We’ve barely had time to recover from the shock waves before the digital screens around the city flicker and start broadcasting a live feed of Amy and Nick running through the Park, their backs to the camera so you can’t get a good look at their faces. Everyone wil
l assume that they’re me and Natalie. We’re able to do this because we’re broadcasting within the city limits, like they were doing with the “live feed” of Polly, so the Sentry’s jamming signal doesn’t work, as that only prevents signals coming in or out of the city bounds.
Nick and Amy deposit some explosives outside Natalie’s old family home, a derelict white mansion covered in brambles, then hurry toward the manhole cover in the middle of the street, dropping down into the sewers just as the bomb explodes and another shock wave hits the city. A series of explosions take place in rapid succession as the other bombs in the Park detonate. The old, dry wood from the abandoned houses provides the perfect kindling, and that area of the city is soon an inferno.
Almost immediately, there’s another explosion to the west—this time a power plant—and all the digital screens and streetlights start to pop out one by one, sending a rolling tide of darkness across the city.
There’s a moment of stillness before all hell breaks loose. Air-raid sirens wail, people scream, footsteps echo in the streets as citizens run for cover. Everything is going according to schedule. Right now, I know Dad and Logan are leading the first teams out of the ghetto under the cover of darkness. I say a silent prayer for them all. We’ve done everything we can; now it’s up to fate to determine whether they get out of Black City alive.
“Our turn,” I say. “You ready?”
Garrick, Natalie and Elijah all nod. Our bombs are on a time delay, so once I flip the first switch, we’ll have just three minutes to get out of the market before the first bomb detonates and sets the others off in a chain reaction.
I peer up at the sky. The first Transporters start to drop from the Destroyer Ships. Some head toward the Cinderstone factories, others to the Park, where the bombs have gone off. There’s no time to wait. I flip the switch.
The three-minute countdown begins.
We sprint through the market, tearing through the warren of alleyways, me leading the way, as my eyesight is best in the dark.
Two minutes.
I turn a corner and immediately realize I’ve gone the wrong way when we’re confronted with a brick wall. Fragg!
“Ash, this way,” Natalie says, guiding us down another passageway.
The colorful bunting around the market stalls flutters as we rush by. We pass the fishmongers, the jewelry stores, finally reaching the clothing stores on the outer rim of the market.
One minute.
We reach a crossroads.
“Which way?” Elijah asks.
“I don’t know,” Natalie says. “I always get lost around here.”
We don’t have time to waste. I just follow my gut and pick the passageway on the right.
Thirty seconds.
As we run down a narrow alleyway, Natalie’s foot slips on a loose cobblestone, and she stumbles. Garrick roughly drags her to her feet.
Ten seconds.
“There! Look!” Elijah says.
A crack of light between two stalls.
We run toward it.
Five seconds.
We’re not going to make it.
Three. Two. One.
We burst out of the market just as the first bomb detonates.
The blast knocks us off our feet, and we crash to the ground ten feet from where we started. My ears are ringing, and every bone and muscle in my body aches. Everything sounds muffled, like I’m swimming underwater. I lie on my back and watch as confetti rains down on me. Another explosion sends more colorful bunting and bits of flaming debris up into the air. I try to move, but my body refuses.
Through the fog in my head, I make out the sound of marching boots against cobblestones. It’s getting louder and louder. The Sentry guards are coming. A voice screams in the back of my mind to get up, but my legs aren’t responding. Everything’s still in a haze, and I can’t concentrate. Get up, Ash. Get up, Ash. Get up—
“Ash!”
Natalie’s voice makes my world whoosh back into focus. I struggle upright in time to see her being slung over Garrick’s shoulder, about fifteen feet away. For a second, I think he’s trying to carry her away from the approaching Sentry guards, but then I notice her fists pounding against his back, the fear in her eyes. My heart leaps into my mouth. He’s trying to kidnap her!
“Let me go!” she screams.
I lunge for Garrick. He yells as I sink my fangs into his leg, injecting him with a heavy dose of Haze. Startled, he drops Natalie. Elijah helps her to her feet while Garrick staggers back, one step, two steps, before crashing to the cobbled ground, grinning like an insane man as the Haze courses through his veins.
“Down here!” Sebastian calls out to his men. They’re in the street next to us.
“We have to get to the safe house,” I say.
We grab our bags and stagger out of Chantilly Lane just as the first guards approach the market square. We hurry down the passageway, getting as far away as possible.
The streets start to fill with people as they evacuate their homes, carrying clothes, food, pets; some even attempt to carry heavy paintings and other heirlooms with them in their panicked state.
“Put up your hoods,” I tell the others.
We join the throng of people, using them for cover as more Sentry troops rush by. Everyone is running in all directions, uncertain where to go. With the factories, the Park and Chantilly Lane in flames, most head toward the Rise to take refuge there.
We walk for twenty minutes until we reach City End, where the safe house is. I’m just grateful I never told Garrick our plan, that fragging traitor! I think back to the first time I met him, after he’d brought Freya to the ghetto, and recall the slash marks down her stomach. I’d thought they were made by a guard’s sword, but now I suspect the Lupine was responsible. Was that what Freya was trying to tell me before she died? We pass dozens of houses, searching for the right one, but they all look the same, with black Cinderstone-brick walls and red doors.
“Which one is it?” Elijah asks.
I quickly check the top right-hand corner of each door until I find what I’m looking for: a small burning rose carved into the wood.
“This one,” I say.
We enter the safe house, slamming the door behind us. It is small and cramped, with dust on every surface and bedsheets covering the old furniture. The owner died a year ago, and Humans for Unity has been using it as a refuge ever since. We head up to the attic, as Roach instructed us to, and find a couple of sleeping bags, an oil lamp and some tins of food. There’s no Synth-O-Blood for me, but I didn’t expect there to be; everything in the attic has been here a while. My stomach growls, and I try to remember the last time I ate anything. It’s been ages.
There’s a small round window in the attic, giving us a great view over the city. Infernos rage in the three districts where we planted the bombs. Thankfully, the fires are still contained within those sections, but it’ll only be a matter of time before they reach us. We’ll stay here for as long as we can, then head to the station on the outskirts of the city.
Elijah sits down on one of the sleeping bags and begins to groom himself, licking the dust and blood off his arms, while I stalk about the room.
“I can’t fragging believe Garrick’s been playing us all this time,” I spit.
“Who do you think he’s working for?” Natalie asks.
“My money’s on Purian Rose,” I reply.
Elijah stops cleaning himself. “Then why tell us about the Tenth?”
“To gain our trust, so he could infiltrate the rebel headquarters.” I punch my fist against the wall, making my knuckles ache. “Fragg! He knows everything! He knows where the Darklings are going and that we’re looking for the Ora.”
“At least he doesn’t know we’re going to Thrace,” Natalie says. “That’s something.”
I rake my fingers through my ha
ir, trying to think of ways to warn the others, but come up empty.
“Why did he try and kidnap Natalie, though?” Elijah asks me. “Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to kill you both?”
We all look at each other, trying to work this out, but none of it makes sense. It would have been the perfect opportunity for Garrick to kill me, so why didn’t he?
“So what do we do now?” Natalie says.
“I guess we carry on with our plan,” I say. “Garrick doesn’t know how we intend to escape the city; he’ll assume we’re already on our way out.”
“I hope he’s having a really bad Haze trip,” Natalie says, wincing as she sits down.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
“It’s just that old bite mark on my leg,” she says. “Nothing to worry about.”
She opens one of the tins of soup, cooking it over the oil lamp, and we settle down for the evening. I keep a close eye on the window, to see if the fires are spreading in our direction. Elijah curls his lip at the soup when Natalie passes it to him.
“Fine, go hungry. I don’t care,” she snaps.
He quickly takes the soup and drinks it down. Honestly, where does he think we are? The Golden Citadel? As the Bastet Consul’s son, he’s probably used to getting the finest foods. I enviously watch them as they eat their dinner, my own stomach roaring with hunger.
Another eruption rumbles across the city. Something else has just gone up in flames.
“Do you think the others made it out okay?” Natalie asks.
I nod, although I just don’t know. Pain balls up in my chest, thinking about Dad and Sigur, not to mention Nick and Amy.
Natalie and Elijah finish their meager dinner while I triple-check the contents of my duffel bag, making sure we have everything for our escape plan tomorrow: wigs, contact lenses, veneers, makeup, clothes, Evacuation Passes. It’s amazing what Amy managed to cobble together for us in terms of disguises in such a short space of time. A lot of it was stolen from Black City School’s props cupboard and the makeup department at Juno’s work. I’m concerned that we have only two Evacuation Passes—the bloodied one Juno got hold of from a dead guy and the one Dad collected during the attempt to rescue Polly. We still need a third pass, which is another item on the long list of things that can go horribly wrong tomorrow.
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