A Sea of Purple Ink (21 page)

The reader’s face turned sour. “I told Reese before, the police don’t trust us anymore. They even tried to put the whole reader division in prison.” He scuttled after them. “In fact, the others readers don’t even trust me.”

Reese tried to see past the turmoil around them.
There has to be another exit somewhere.

“This way,” Niela called. She started off between people’s legs, as supple as a snake.

A shout cut through the noise of the brawl. “Don’t let them get away!”

30

Reese knew without looking they had been spotted.
Forget crawling.
She sprang to her feet and dashed for the corner. She could see a rickety metal staircase set against the wall and Niela at the base of it. Reese put her head down and ran. A quick shove against a heavyset man, and she reached the lowest stair. “Where—”

Niela’s gaze snapped to something just behind Reese. “Drop!” she said.

Reese let her knees go loose.

Bang.

Pieces of brick showered down from the wall as the bullet struck deep.

Niela jumped forward, just clearing Reese’s head.

Something struck Reese’s back. She whirled to see the shifter slam one of the policemen into the ground. A gun fell from the man’s hand with a clatter. He struck upwards with his other arm, catching the shifter in the jaw.

Niela flinched in pain and backhanded him across the face.

Reese spotted another policeman running toward them.
Too many people to get a clear shot.
She grabbed Arrow and shoved him toward the stairs. “Up!” she ordered. “Move!” She glanced over her shoulder.

Niela had one hand on the fallen policeman’s head and the other on his chest.

Reese’s stomach heaved. She pushed Arrow up the spiraling stairs and drew her gun.
Still not clear enough.
She turned to the overweight reader struggling up the next few steps. “Higher,” she said, shoving at his back. “Out of the way.”

Zing.
A bullet screamed past her head and hit metal in a shower of sparks.

“Move or save yourself!” Reese shouted. She grabbed the stair brace and catapulted herself over the straining man. The steps groaned as she landed above him, and the whole staircase swayed. Reese caught her balance and whirled around, gun at the ready. Over the curving railing she saw the second policeman raise his pistol.

Below her, on the floor, Niela climbed off of her dead attacker.

The policeman’s gun swiveled downward.

In a flash, the angle of his bullet registered in Reese’s mind. “Niela!” she shouted, jerking her own weapon up to aim.

Niela glanced up at Reese.

Behind Niela, the policeman fired. A puff of smoke rose from the tip of his gun as the reverberation shook the room. The shifter jerked away and crashed into the metal staircase.

Reese clenched her jaw and squeezed the trigger.
Bang.
The policeman staggered back a step and clapped his free hand over his chest.
One down.
Reese jumped to a higher step and took aim again. Two more shots, and the remaining two police fell.

The frenzied crowd was rushing toward the ground level exits, blocking more law enforcement officials as they tried to make their way in.

Reese shoved her gun back in its holster and leaned over the rail. “Niela?”

Her friend crouched at the base of the stairs, a growing splash of red beneath her feet.

Reese’s heart thumped. “Niela?”

The stairway shook as Arrow appeared beside her, sweat soaking his face.

Reese’s patience snapped. She grabbed the reader by his shoulders and dragged him up the stairs. “Get up there quick,” she hissed. She squeezed past him and started downward. “If you’re not at the top when I get back, I’ll throw you over the rail.”

One of the arriving police broke through the crowd on the far side of the room. “Put up your weapons,” he yelled. “You’re under arrest.”

Reese halted halfway down, one hand on her gun. The steps vibrated beneath her, then gravity rippled as Niela appeared over the side of the stairs, heading for the top at high speed.

She’s alive.
Reese fired a warning shot at the running policeman and hurried after her friend.

At the top of the stairs, the metal flooring extended into a narrow hallway. Arrow stood in the hallway, his face white and drawn in the fading light from an open window, staring at Niela.

Reese caught her breath at the sight of her friend.

Blood soaked Niela’s dark shirt. A section of cloth had torn away at her shoulder, revealing a long scorched gash. Niela leaned against the wall, her eyes half shut, but managed a grin. “I showed them what for,” she said. Pain flickered across her face.

Reese swore under her breath. “That’s a big hit.” She racked her brain for memories of what to do. “Those others will be up here in a moment, and Lacewing isn’t here to patch it up.”

“I’ll get it,” Arrow said. He dug his hand into his half-buttoned coat and pulled out a long scarf. “I can at least slow it down a bit.”

Niela leaned her head back against the wall. “Do it quick,” she gasped. “We’ve got to shift out of here.”

Reese swore again. Calculations pounded through her head.
Time till they make it up the stairs, seven seconds. Niela’s injured. What do I do with the headquarter crew? There’s no one else to replace her.
She drew her gun and faced the stairs, listening for the telltale rattle of metal.

“Done,” Arrow said. “You’re going to help me escape, right?”

Niela shoved herself off the wall. “Hold on tight,” she rasped. She slipped her uninjured arm around Reese’s waist.

Reese stiffened at the touch.
Is she planning to shift—
The hallway spun. The three of them plummeted toward the open window, now their floor.

“Niela!” Reese cried.
She’s doing it again. Just like before.
“Don’t die!” she yelled. “I need you alive.”

The wall of the building receded into the sky above them. Wind gasped in Reese’s ears and pulled at her clothes. She felt Niela’s grip tighten around her middle, and, for a brief moment, she caught the scent of blood.

They landed on the ground outside the alleyway with a heavy thud. Reese staggered backwards a half step, straining to stay upright beneath the shifter’s dead weight. “Niela?” She gripped her friend’s arm where it lay around her waist. “Are you still with me?”

“I’m here,” Niela groaned. “Not that… not that I want to be.” She rested her chin on Reese’s shoulder.

Reese braced herself against her friend’s weight.
We only have a few seconds…
“Okay, we have to move,” she said. “Can you hang on for now?”

Arrow scrambled up from his position on the ground and gazed both ways down the street, a hunted look on his face.

“I can do better than that,” Niela whispered. She leaned her full weight against Reese. One arm rose and bent across Reese’s chest, locking into position. Gravity shifted.

The ripple ran through Reese. She felt the shifter’s weight lighten until she was almost weightless. Reese reached up and laid a hand on Niela’s arm. “All right, let’s go.” She took a few experimental steps. The shifting rang in her ears. “Yell if you start to fall off,” she said. She tried to focus on the road ahead. “And you,” she said, glancing at Arrow. “Keep up or get left behind.”

The reader nodded, his face still pale.

Reese risked a look at the setting sun.
It’ll be dusk soon. We’re almost out of time.
Her head ached. Emergency calculations were still churning, sapping her strength.
It’s now or never.
Reese set her jaw and ran.

After a few alleys, Reese’s lungs began to burn. The boundary ripples from the gravity washed through her vision, making the road look like it was wavering beneath her feet. She felt Niela’s grip slip, and the shifter gasped in pain.

Reese slowed to a halt at an intersection.

“Niela?” she said, craning her neck around to try to catch a glimpse of her friend’s features.

The shifter groaned.

Arrow staggered to a halt beside Reese and bent double. He stayed there, hands on his knees, blowing hard. In the fading light, his face looked even more flushed.

Time to change the plan.
Reese reached behind her and tried to push Niela higher on her back. “I’m going to drop you off on the way,” she said. “Do you think you can wait until I send Lacewing?”
Any one of the rooftops close to police headquarters would work. If it gets dark enough, they won’t be watching.

“That should… do fine,” Niela replied. She drew a long shuddering breath. “Reese?”

“Yes?” Reese turned to check the way they had come.
Looks like no one is following.

Niela’s arm tightened in the ghost of an embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Reese felt something wet roll down her neck. Her mind vaguely registered it as blood or tears. She wanted to answer, to say something reassuring, but the words vanished in an onslaught of new calculations.

“Now get going,” Niela said. She hitched herself forward and brought her mouth close to Reese’s ear. “The sun’s going down.”

---

Twenty minutes later, Reese reached the house, Arrow in tow. As they approached the back garden wall, Lacewing materialized from the bushes. “Reese, what happened to you? You’re covered in blood!”

Reese looked down. In the setting sun’s light, her shirt front appeared bathed in scarlet. “It’s Niela’s, not mine.” She collared Arrow with one hand and propelled him through the garden gate. “I need you to get some medical supplies together and go help her.” A list of things to do began ticking through Reese’s mind.
If Lacewing goes to Niela, there’s a high chance she won’t make it back to the palace entrance in time to cover for an early retreat. That means, win or lose, we’ve got to stick it out in the palace for at least an hour.

She strode across the grass to the terrace, Arrow half running to keep up.

The back door swung open, revealing a richly-dressed Tyrone. “Reese, where have you been?” he demanded, then his eyes widened.

“At the fights,” Reese snapped back. She walked straight for the door and Tyrone skipped out of the way. “Grant?” Reese called, shouldering into the kitchen.

The big man appeared in the hallway.

Reese shoved Arrow forward. “Grant, send Joplin up here.” She maneuvered the reader toward the wooden cupboards. “Then you and Lacewing get moving. We’re out of time.”
Meanwhile, I want answers.

Arrow thudded backwards into the wall. “Reese, believe me,” he stammered. He held up his hands. “I have information you should hear! One of the readers killed Brandon. I don’t know how, but—”

“You nearly cost me my best shifter,” Reese said. “Not to mention got me turned out of the canals.” She moved forward, staring him dead in the eye. “Talk.” She peeled both gloves from her hands and flung them on the floor. “The police are trying to take over, aren’t they? Who’s the ringleader?”

Sweat glistened on Arrow’s head. “I can’t tell you. Please, don’t ask about—”

“Should I step out?” Tyrone asked. “Or do you want me to pummel him?”

Reese’s calculations swelled. Fractured fragments of reasoning split and recombined. The heat in the kitchen felt stifling. She loosened the buttons on her damaged coat. “It’s Stryker, isn’t it?” she said. “He’s the ringleader. Are the readers the only ones in on it?”

The reader stammered a few incoherent words, and his fingers twitched against the wall.

Tension built in Reese’s chest. “He found a writer. He planned the coup.” She looked deep into the reader’s panicked eyes. “Who is the writer?”

Something flashed through the reader’s eyes. His body began shaking. “I… I…” Arrow’s face turned white.

The air tingled. Arrow’s knees gave way and he sank toward the floor.

Adrenaline shot through Reese.
He’s going burner too!
Time seemed to slow.
Tyrone.
Reese whirled toward the watching merchant and ran.

She caught a momentary glimpse of Tyrone’s puzzled look, then crashed into him, pushing him backwards into the hallway.

Arrow screamed.

Tyrone slammed into the floor beneath Reese. Something cracked. Reese felt a shooting pain run through her arm. The taste of metal grew in her mouth.

Behind her, in the kitchen, Arrow gave a hissing gargle. A hand rattled against the floor. Then silence.

He’s dead.
A sick feeling settled in Reese’s stomach.
That’s another one.
She pushed herself away from Tyrone and up into a crouch. “Are you all right?” she asked.

The merchant stayed flat on his back, staring up at her with startled eyes. “Ask me again later,” he said. “I’m still trying to figure out what happened.” His short cape lay in folds around him, like the wings of a stunned bird.

“The writer got to him before we did,” Reese said. She stood up and slowly stepped back into the kitchen.

Arrow lay face up on the floor, livid burn marks across his bald head. Scorch marks surrounded the metal buttons on his coat, and a faint wisp of smoke trailed up toward the kitchen ceiling.

Another source of information gone.
Reese folded her arms, holding them close.
If Stryker really is the ringleader, I don’t want any part of his plan.
The horror of the idea grew in her mind. A picture of a new, even more ruthless regime.

Fabric rustled in the hall and Tyrone emerged. “Oh,” the merchant said. He rested a hand on Reese’s shoulder. “Why don’t you step out for a moment while I take care of this? I’ll get Grant to help me.”

Reese pulled her gaze from the dead man’s face.
Keep moving. Just go.
“Thank you,” she said. She turned away and hurried into the living room.
I’m up against another mastermind.
She took a long shaking breath, trying to calm her mind.

The floor shook as Grant walked through the hallway. The back door creaked and shut.

Reese loosened the buttons on her damaged coat.
Niela’s shot. Arrow’s dead. How many more of us?
She tugged at the coat. The blood-soaked fabric stuck for a moment. Factors ran in a steady stream.
What if Joplin has another burner moment?
Reese realized she was moving in overdrive. Between Niela’s injury and the unlooked-for turmoil, she’d expended far more of her ability than she should have. Reese took a deep breath and slid out of the ruined coat.
We can’t stop now.

With a dry rustle, the coat pulled free. Reese crumpled it in half and tossed the wrinkled lump onto the floor.