Morningside Fall (12 page)

“Stay close to me,” Cass said. “And quiet.”

Wren held his breath while she eased the door open again. But whatever he’d seen mustn’t have been there now, because Mama slipped out into the hallway and pulled him along behind her. He was thankful that they were headed the opposite direction from the shadow. Wren was afraid to look back behind them, but he was more afraid not to, so he risked a peek. Nothing was following.

Cass led them around a corner and down a set of stairs to a lower level.

“What about the cuh-cuh-curfew?” Painter whispered.

“It’s alright,” Wren said. “They won’t stop us.”

“No, Painter’s right,” Cass answered. “We can’t let anyone see us. If Connor was in on it, there’s no telling which of the guard might be on his side. And we don’t want anyone to know where we are, or where we’re going, anyway. We’ll have to be careful.” She paused, and then added half to herself, “And maybe lucky.”

They moved through a darkened hallway to a side entrance.

“Wren, door,” Cass whispered. He didn’t really respond, just flipped the lock. She eased it open. Checked for any guards – or anyone else, really. Then she pulled the door closed again, and turned back to them both. “We’re going to move quickly, but keep your eyes open. We’ll try to avoid patrols, but if we get spotted, just keep your heads down and keep moving. Stay with me, alright? Stay
right
with me.”

Wren nodded, and then Painter did too. And with that, Cass pushed the door open once more, and the three of them moved out into the cool night air. For the first time, Wren felt that it was a far more dangerous thing to be trapped inside the wall than outside.

C
ass kept the boys behind her at a corner, pressed against the outer wall of a darkened shop, waiting for the patrol to move further down the road. She counted three guardsmen, though from the way they were positioned, she got the feeling there were actually four of them out there. Or maybe she was truly
feeling
the fourth; those signals she was still learning to read. Yes, there. Trailing the others by a good thirty yards, holding himself to the far side of the street while they followed the center. Walking clean-up.

Cass waited until the guards had disappeared from view before she signaled the others to move forward. Wren clung close, a hand on her lower back, silently and fluidly adapting to her movement. They smoothly crossed the open stretch of ground and threaded their way through a narrow alley on the other side, turning right where it intersected in a T with another alley. At this rate, they’d make their destination in five, maybe seven more minutes. It hadn’t been the most direct route by any means, but so far it’d been the right one. They stopped again at the mouth of the alley, pausing to assess. If the guard was running four-man patrols, they probably wouldn’t be so close together. But now wasn’t the time to risk
probably
.

Cass glanced over her shoulder at Wren. His eyes were bright in the dim light, and focused. He still had his hand on her lower back; just enough pressure to be sure he was there, without pushing or hindering her movement. If he was feeling any fear, he was doing a masterful job of hiding it.

Painter was a different story. Cass looked up to check on him, and wasn’t reassured. Ever since they’d left her room, his face had been a constant mask of utter desperation. His eyes never stopped roving, as if danger might leap out at them from every angle. It was like he’d already decided they were doomed and was just waiting for the proof. And whenever they moved, everything he did seemed loud to her. His footsteps, the rustle of his clothing, his breathing. Loud.

Whenever they stopped, Painter had a distracting way of clutching at Wren and at her. Completely different from Wren’s touch. Wren’s hand on her was a method of communication, a sign that he was with her, really
with
her, moving, stopping, and moving again as one. Painter, on the other hand, clawed at them like they were a raft for a drowning man. As if he was afraid they might push out into the darkness and leave him drifting behind.

Wren patted her lower back twice, quickly, and she returned her attention to the street ahead. It looked clear. But as Cass started to move forward, she felt Wren’s hand clench, enough change to make her hold position. She scanned the street again, slower this time, looking for any sign of anyone, guard, citizen, or otherwise. But came up empty. She turned slowly back to look at Wren and when she did, he pointed. Across the street. And up.

Cass followed the line from his finger. Across the street. Up. The building directly across from them was three stories high. The windows were all dark, but there was a sign glowing orange along the top. Cass squinted against the glare, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the buzzing light. Nothing. And then. There. The scantest silhouette, black against a midnight blue sky. Shoulders, head, little more, with just a trace of soft halo where she detected his electromagnetic aura. How Wren had seen him, she had no idea, but for now it was enough that he had. She turned back to Wren and Painter, hunched low.

“Back,” Cass whispered, barely louder than an exhalation. “We’ll have to cut around the other side.”

Wren nodded. Painter just looked scared. Cass noticed he had a hand on Wren’s shoulder, and Wren’s coat was all bunched up in his fist. She tried not to be annoyed. And for a split second she wondered if this was how Three felt about her the first time he took her into the open. Not now. She shoved Three from her thoughts and retraced her steps back down the alley.

But as they approached the point where the two alleys intersected, a chill gripped Cass and she stopped dead. Strained with all her senses. There was someone else in the alley.

She pressed back against the wall, and with her arm swept the other two against it as well. For a moment, there was nothing. But then, a soft sound from around the corner. An inhalation. And then without warning, a white light splashed on the wall across from them, illuminating them all in its glow.

“Someone down there?” the Someone Else called. A younger male, or a gruffer female. Trying to sound authoritative. There was uncertainty, but not fear. Cass felt Wren press in closer, and someone clutched her sleeve. Footsteps, now: slow and cautious, approaching. “Hello?”

Cass’s mind raced through the options. Backing up again was out. The guy on the roof had that end covered. They could wait, hope whoever it was would just turn around. That seemed unlikely. She could announce herself. There was a good chance that a guard wouldn’t try to do anything other than report her position. But they were close enough to their destination that if the guard called it in, it wouldn’t take long for any other Council members to put the pieces together. If any other Council members were even in on it. Too many unknowns.

“I know you’re back there, so come on out. Easy.”

The footsteps were getting closer, and Cass heard the distinctive click and hum of a coilgun powering up. No way for one of those to be used for nonlethal means. Apparently they weren’t taking any chances with the curfew.

She might have to just ambush the guard, avoid the weapon, go for the quick knockout. Cass was fast enough. But there was always the chance for that to go wrong and get noisy. And there was always the chance that this guard was on the right side of things, anyway. That was the trouble with betrayal… even the innocent became suspect.

None of them seemed like good options, but they were running out of time. She’d announce herself, and hope the guard didn’t come looking far enough to see the others. That might leave some chance of a cover story, if they needed one.

“OK, OK,” Painter called to the guard. “I’m guh-guh-gonna step out.”

He’d cracked under the pressure. Cass whipped around to look at him. He still looked petrified, but he had a hand up. Wait. What was he up to?

“I’m ssss-sorry, I’m cuh-cuh-cuh… I’m coming out. But don’t freak out, I’m A-a-awakened.”

“Come out here real slow, with your hands up where I can see ’em!” the guard called.

Painter nodded to Cass and patted Wren on the shoulder gently, and then stretched his hands out and eased towards the corner. He showed his hands first, and then followed them out very slowly.

“Get down on your knees,” the guard said, the light still blazing like a miniature sun with Painter’s shadow stark in its middle.

“Yeah, sssss-sure,” Painter said. But he didn’t. He made a risky move and advanced a few steps down the alley, towards the guard – and away from Cass and Wren.

“Hold it, hold it!” the guard said, raising her voice. Not shouting, but heading that way. Cass was sure that coilgun was going to sing any second. “I said get on your knees!”

“Yeah, yeah, look, please, d-d-don’t take me in,” Painter said. Cass couldn’t see him anymore, but judging from the shadow and the sounds, he was getting down on the ground. “Please, listen–”

“You’re in violation of a hard curfew, as ordered by the governor–”

“I nuh-nuh, I know, please, ma’am,” Painter pleaded. Female guard then. “Let me explain.”

It was a dangerous game. The guard hadn’t called for backup yet, but that was always a possibility. Maybe even a likelihood. With the noise they were making, calling for it might not even be necessary.

She said, “Talking won’t matter, kid, I’ve got orders.”

“Please, I’ll luh-luh, I’ll lose my job, ma’am, please.”

“You should’ve thought of that before you violated the curfew. Lie flat, face down, hands stretched out above your head.”

“I didn’t mmm-mmean to, I lost tr-track of tuh-tuh-tuh, of time.”

“It’s not my problem, kid.”

“Please, there’s this guh-guh, there’s a girl,” Painter said. There was a pause after that.

“A girl?” the guard said. Her voice had lost the slightest bit of its edge.

“Yes, mmm-ma’am.”

“She with you now?” the guard asked.

“No, ma’am, I was on my way b-b-back from her place. I’m sss-sorry.”

Another pause.

“You’re that one from Mister Sun’s place, ain’t ya?” She said
that one
with just a hint of emphasis. “Hunter or something.”

“Yes, ma’am. Painter.”

She replied, “Painter, that’s right. And this girl. She worth getting shot over, Painter?”

Painter was quiet for a second. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What about getting jumped and strung up by a bunch of thugs?”

“I rrrrr-, I reckon she’s wuh-wuh-worth just about any kind of hell Mmmmorningside’s got, ma’am.”

The guard chuckled at that. “Just about, huh?” she said, with a hint of amusement.

“Just about. May-may-may… maybe not losing my job.”

Cass heard the click of the coilgun, and it quit humming.

“Alright, kid. You got me. I might be just enough of a romantic to let you off once.
Once
, you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m gonna swing by Mister Sun’s in ten minutes. If you aren’t there, I’m gonna bring my boys down on you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Get outta here.”

There was scuffling in the alleyway as Painter got back to his feet. “Th-th-thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for something that never happened, kid. Get.”

“Yes, mmma’am.”

Painter’s shadow gradually shrank on the wall and then he was in the intersection. Cass held her breath. But he did the right thing, and turned the opposite direction without the slightest hitch or glance their way. A few moments later the light switched off, and she could hear the guard muttering something to herself. Footsteps receded down the alley, and the unusual silence of Morningside returned. Cass felt Wren relax behind her, but still she waited a full minute before crossing the intersection, just to be sure.

Together she and Wren edged their way to the street, slow and steady. Cass surveyed the area. All clear. She checked with Wren anyway. He gave a quick nod, and they skittered down the street, keeping close to the buildings along the side, slipping into the shadows whenever they could.

Painter was nowhere in sight. Cass had intended to make one more loop before approaching their destination, both to scout the path and to make doubly sure they weren’t followed. But after the close call it seemed like any extra time they spent on the street was the greater risk. They reached a storefront alcove, and Cass pulled Wren into its shadows and knelt in front of him, so close their noses nearly touched.

“We’re going to make for the door,” she whispered. “We’re not going to run, but we’re going to go straight there and in. If anyone tries to stop us, you hear someone shout or anything, just ignore it. Don’t stop, don’t look at them, just head straight inside, OK?”

Wren nodded, serious and focused.

“I just hope Painter got there first,” Cass added as she stood. One more check, up and down the street. Deep breath. And they moved out. She drew Wren alongside her, held his hand, walked briskly. They crossed the street, more concerned now about speed than discretion. Thirty yards, and a left turn. Still clear. Just another fifty yards. Forty. Thirty. Twenty. The stairs were there on the left, the door closed, its windows darkened. Mister Sun’s Tea House. Surely Painter had gotten here ahead of them and prepared the way.

They made it to the stairs, but as they were climbing them there was a flutter in Cass’s peripheral vision. Someone coming around the corner at the far end of the street maybe. She didn’t look, focusing instead on the door. It was inset slightly, providing a little cover. They gained the top of the stairs. Normally the motion sensor would’ve triggered the door by now. Cass pressed into the door, pulling Wren hard against her. Painter should’ve been here – the door should’ve been unlocked.

There were footsteps coming down the street, faster than a regular patrol would’ve been going. Cass drew Wren in front of her, squeezing him into the corner between the door and its housing, shielding him with her body. Hopefully whoever it was would just walk right on by without noticing them. Unless of course the whoever it was had already noticed them.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. Cass fought the urge to look over her shoulder, fearful that the motion or the glow from her eyes might give them away. But in the end she had no choice. The person was coming up the stairs.

Cass readied herself as she slowly turned her head to identify the approaching figure. “Painter.”

Painter was looking down the street when she said his name, and he gasped and skidded backwards down two steps when she spoke, apparently never having seen them at all. He recovered and quickly made his way to the door.

“I th-th-think my heart stopped,” he said. “Like, really st-stopped for a ssssecond.” He held his palm up in front of a security panel, and the door
snicked
and started sliding smoothly open. Before it was even fully open, Cass pushed Wren inside and followed right on his heels into the dark main room of Mister Sun’s Tea House.

Not that the room was dark to Cass’s eyes. She could see plainly the various tables arrayed around the room, with the chairs flipped upside down on top as they were when Mister Sun’s was closed. Everything looked like it was bathed in the light of a strong full moon, though she knew that wasn’t how it appeared to Wren. The fountain-stream burbled softly in the otherwise silent room.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“I th-thought you were g-g-going around,” Painter said as he secured the door. “I waited.”

Cass couldn’t fault him for that. She’d changed plans on the assumption that he’d head straight to the building, an assumption she’d made without even realizing it. Luckily it hadn’t cost them anything more than a few tense seconds. She was just about to respond, to tell Painter he’d done the right thing, or to thank him, when the lights came on.

She hadn’t heard anyone approach, and no one had said anything, but nevertheless there was Mister Sun, standing off to one side of the room, casually leaning against the doorframe of a private room. There was a stimstick between his lips, dangling at a forty-five degree angle like it might drop out of his mouth at any moment. His palsied left hand was curled up and resting on his belly, but Cass noticed he was holding his right arm close along his body and slightly behind his leg, hiding his other hand from view.

“Busy night, my friends?” he said. There was something heavy to his voice; a darker quality, and deeper. Not quite threatening, but Cass felt certain that Mister Sun wasn’t just the easy-going, happy-go-lucky tea merchant he usually seemed to be.