The Glass Arrow(65)

In the silence, I realize everyone is waiting for me to speak. Kiran, as far as the Watcher knows, is mute, and if Daphne talks she’s likely to ruin everything.

The pressure in my chest grows tighter.

“Evening Watcher,” I say, adding a little gravel in my tone. Kiran’s act has inspired me. I need to play my part: Skinmonger. Virulent. I can feel the thick makeup on my cheek and the sweat dripping down my face that threatens to smear it. Better make this quick.

The Watcher moves closer and looks directly at me. His pupils take up most of the space between his lids; I’ve heard it’s another modification they’ve made to help him see in the dark. I hope he can’t see too well, otherwise he’ll know the mark is fake and we’ll be done for.

“Won’t you open the gates for us?” I ask before I lose my nerve.

“It’s late,” he says. “Why aren’t you working?”

Good. He believes I’m a Skinmonger. I push myself to continue.

“My cousin. She’s plagued,” I say. “Doesn’t have much longer.” A camera like the one in the rec yard at the Garden makes its slow trip our way, and I look down momentarily to avoid giving it a clear view of my face. Daphne begins to cry softly and hides her face in her hands. She sags back into me, and I hold her upright with one arm around her waist. For the first time tonight, she’s doing something right.

The Watcher’s blank stare sends chills racing over my skin.

“Looks all right to me,” he says.

“On the outside maybe,” I say. “Her insides are all rotten though.”

The guard takes a step forward. Kiran jerks back fearfully, but holds his ground.

“So patch her up,” says the Watcher.

I shiver. I feel Daphne shiver too. I’ve heard the girls whisper about such places. Death houses. For the right price, the docs there claim they can put any Skinmonger back on the market. But they don’t call them death houses for nothing. The girls that go in don’t always make it out.

“And then someone will have to call a Watcher up to get rid of the body,” I argue, trying to think of how the Skinmongers talk at auction. “Look, my cousin’s sick, and she’s going to die. I can’t afford to lose a week of business while you Watchers take your time cleaning up.” My heart is pounding so hard I think that his sensitive hearing must have picked up on it.

He stares some more. Long enough that I think we might have to make a run for it.

“She’s only Virulent, what do you care,” I mutter.

Finally, he asks, “Any weapons?”

You can’t bring weapons through the gates, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get one from an arms dealer in the Black Lanes.

“No,” I answer.

“Apparatuses?”

“Appa-whatuses?” My brows rise.

“Computers. Messageboxes. Texters.”

“Do I look like I can afford any of that?” This is the first real thing I’ve told him.

He takes another step forward. I grip the knife handle. My mind shoots to what kind of weapons Kiran must have on him.

“You going to search me?” I say. It sickens me to add that sultry edge to my voice, but I can’t let him get too close.

The Watcher stops and though no disgust dawns on his face, I can tell he’s rethought getting too close to two Virulent, one of them plagued.

“Gates reopen at dawn,” he says, turning his back on us suddenly. “You can return then.” He disappears within the glass guardhouse.

A moment later there is a clicking noise, and the gate rises high, straight up into the air, so that we can pass through. A wave of sick rolls over me as I remember the carriage that brought me through here. I can still hear the way the gate closed steadily behind me, mocking my freedom.

And then Kiran is leading Dell through, and I am staring ahead into the darkness, the real, true darkness beyond the city walls. I feel the tingling of something so much more shattering than pain, but so much brighter than joy, climbing up my body. The combination steals my breath. It makes me tremble like the very ground beneath us is shaking.

We are nearly even with the guard box, not yet outside the gates, and I’m beginning to think we’ve done it when the Watcher steps outside the automatic doorway again, this time searching the area behind us as the camera above his head is doing.

“Have a fine evening,” I say in a hurry. I look over my shoulder back down empty Main Street and around the alley, the way we came, my blood turning to ice. Someone’s after us. We weren’t fast enough.

Kiran keeps walking. Slowly, so as not to make it seem like we’re bolting. But that’s exactly what’s going to happen if someone’s after us. He’s getting ready to pass the Watcher.

The Watcher very slowly removes the wire from his chest strap and grips the handle. In front of me, I feel Daphne choke on her sobs. Without thinking, I squeeze her tighter against me. I tell myself I’m going to use her as a shield, but the truth is I feel safer when we’re close.

I grip the knife in my hand, hard. We just need to get by him. Once we hit the gates, we can run.

But Kiran’s injured and on foot, and Dell can’t carry all three of us.

The guilt comes fast and hard; a punch to the gut. I am the reason the solitary Watcher is dead. I am the reason Kiran and Daphne are in danger right now. If they’re harmed, it will be my soul’s penance in the next life.