Chapter 52
Jane
“I don’t like it,” Saffron said when they’d finally crossed through the suburbs.
Nobody looked surprised.
“Seriously,” she insisted, staring up at the immense castle-like parapet around the Enclave. “Jane, maybe you should just come with us.”
“You know I can’t,” Jane said. It was surreal to be back at the Enclave. To see the parapet, the shadows of people she knew on patrol and the rubble of abandoned houses so near the boundary. She had never wanted to run so much in her life, to feel the connection of her own feet on the ground, taking her away. “I hate that we can’t do this together but you have to save the other Jacks and I have to save my family.”
“I know,” Saffron said. “I know. And you’ll kick ass in there.”
She half-smiled. “Thanks.”
“I mean it. They won’t know what hit them.” She crossed her arms. “And when you hear that the Amphitheatre is burning to the ground, you’ll know we kicked ass too. You fix this and then you meet us back in the forest, Highgate. I mean it.”
Jane turned to hug her. Saffron only protested a little, huffing and rolling her eyes. But she hugged back, fierce and protective. She pulled a clump of purple thistle off her mask. “For good luck,” she claimed, looking faintly embarrassed. “Shut up,” she said to Roarke who didn’t look brave, or stupid enough, to have said anything in the first place.
Jane’s fingers tightened over the leaves. “Wait.” Something prickled through her, but it was vague. “Something about strawberries.”
Saffron raised an eyebrow. “Your omens need work.”
Jane tried harder, but it was like using your palms to catch enough raindrops to drink. “Don’t drink pink champagne.”
“I’m not going to the Enclave. Believe me, there’s no champagne in the City.”
Jane nodded unconvinced as they ducked into the shadows between the houses to change into their Protectorate uniforms. Caradoc came to stand in front of her, hidden from the others by cedar bough and lilac bush. They could almost be back in the forest. She stared at her feet, incongruous in their scuffed boots under the linen hem of her chiton. She felt the warmth of his body so near to hers that she couldn’t think of a single thing to say except: “Thank you.”
It was only a fraction of what she felt, but why embarrass them both? “Thank you,” she said again, her voice stronger. “You didn’t have to take me in, whatever Saffron thinks.”
“Jane,” he said hoarsely. “Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes, ready for patience but instead, she saw something raw, something gentle. He was unshielded, his lake-blue eyes clear as water. She caught her breath, taken by surprise. His callused hands slid up her arms, leaving a trail of shivers even though his touch was fire and kindling. She was already melting. His fingers closed over the back of her neck, brushing her numina mark. They tightened, strong, almost rough, but when his mouth closed over hers, it was achingly gentle. He kissed her as though there was no danger, no conspiracy, no rifles above them; and as if there was no doubt they would find each other again. She leaned into it, her lips parting. Their tongues touched briefly, hot and intoxicating. Breaths tangled, turned ragged.
Too soon, he rested his forehead against her. “Be careful,” he whispered. When he walked away, he didn’t look back.
With her lips still tingling, she approached the main gate, feeling both ember and ash. There was movement on the walkways above and she knew exactly which weapons were trained on her and from where. She lifted her chin, making sure her many bruises were visible.
“State your business,” a voice called out. She knew her rumpled chiton was her only shield. If she’d been wearing anything else, they’d have shot her by now. She turned slowly, showing her Oracle mark. “I’m a Numina,” she answered, words wobbling.
There was a flurry of hushed conversation, the glint of guns. Fear boiled inside of her. The familiar walls that had once felt so safe and comforting, loomed over her like a jail cell. The captain of the guard stepped out, gun lifted. “It took me a long time to get find my way home,” Jane said. And it wasn’t home anymore. That didn’t matter. Protecting her friends and family mattered.
She was faintly grateful for the nerves seizing her throat, they would stop her explanation from sounding rehearsed. “I was on watch,” she said. “I thought I saw something and went to investigate and that’s when they grabbed me.” The hot humid air pressed against her. She brushed her fingers over the thistle in her pouch, the prickle lending her courage. She couldn’t calm her breath or centre herself enough to predict what would happen now. Her heart stuttered and then shook like thunder, like a storm breaking beneath her ribs. “May I see my family now, please?”
“We have questions,” the captain said. “A lot of questions.”
Green Jack Page 52
