The Glass Arrow(67)

He stops. His gleaming bald head wrenches back at an impossible angle. He can see us. The breath hitches higher in my throat. He begins to scuttle towards us faster, faster, but without a sound. That’s because half of his jaw is missing. The wound looks recent; blood is still dripping on the ground.

“Oh!” Daphne cries. “Let’s go. Now. Let’s go now.”

She’s right. Together, we veer off the path, away from the blind Watcher and around a pile of old metal wheels. Kiran is still leading Dell, and I take up the rear, dagger braced before me. Then we’re running as fast as we can through this maze of potholes and machinery. The monster can’t make a sharp turn and he stumbles with a cry that sinks its teeth into my bones. Soon he’s up again, using his arms just as he does his legs. He’s a beast, loping on all fours.

For a moment, I’m frozen. Scared stiff. And then Brax is beside me again, snapping viciously at the half Watcher as I twist my fingers in his coat. We pull backwards, both running sideways.

“Hey! Look up, look up!” I hear Kiran shout.

I spin around, just in time to see the blind Watcher. It’s too late to stop. I slam into him. Brax is barking, the sound of it firing between my temples. I spin off his solid body before I fall, and catch myself just in time to run again.

The bent-over Watcher can’t stop. He plows into the blind one seconds after me, strings of saliva and blood swinging from his missing jaw. The blind Watcher’s hands slash through the air and connect, and in an instant he’s wrapped his arms around the other’s shriveled waist and is squeezing.

A gargling scream. The crackling of bones. And then silence.

I turn. But not before I see the blind Watcher open his mouth, and bite into the flesh of the dead monster’s shoulder.

*

I CONVINCE KIRAN TO ride ahead and scout our path. He sits in front of Daphne on the saddle. Maybe she was prissy about him being a Driver before, but that’s gone now. She holds tight to him as they gallop away. Brax stays by my side and together we run hard in their tracks, winding through the piles of machinery, alert to what might lurk just around the bend.

We find nothing. Nothing but an open field marking the end of the Witch Camps.

My heart collapses in my chest, and for the first time, I feel a sense of relief. Kiran and Daphne emerge a moment later behind me. They’ve doubled back after clearing the way and now are leading onward, over the wooden bridge crossing a deep ditch, and into the mountains.





PART THREE

THE MOUNTAINS





CHAPTER 17

I CAN’T MOVE FAST enough.

The city sticks to my heels like a long-stretched shadow. Always there, right behind me, a black reminder of Pips and cold silver tables and a Garden full of flowers. The wood in the trees makes me think of the auction stage. The rustles in the brush of a boy playing a hiding game. The mountain streams remind me of a Watcher’s body, head under water. All things I wanted to leave inside those tall iron gates.

We must go faster.

Brax and I keep a steady pace up a steep embankment lined by prickly pines. The ground is muddy beneath my feet, and I tear off my boots, needing to feel the soft earth ooze between my toes. The boulders are rougher to the touch and larger than I remember. The black sky above is as dark as tar.

I imagine Nina asking where I’ve been while Tam throws his arms around me. He won’t care that I’ve been gone once he sees me again. He’s quick to forget heartache. Nina will follow his lead and once we’ve resettled in a new camp, I’ll coax Salma into making me fry bread and teach the twins to knife fight. They’ll be old enough now.

Just before dawn I turn around and find that Kiran has fastened Daphne’s hands around his shoulders with his handkerchief while they ride. She’s fallen asleep somehow, and her head is flopping to the side. With the makeup and Kiran’s blood still sticky on her cheek, she really does look plagued.

I’m tempted to dump her here, but we can’t slow down yet. If an alarm at the Garden or the mayor’s house has been sounded, they’ll search the city first and then send a crew of Trackers into the mountains. I want to be as far away as possible before that happens.

Up and up we go. Higher into the mountains. The air is biting; my breath forms moist clouds in front of my face, but I barely feel it. I’m sweating clean through the yellow Skinmonger dress; even my bare shoulders feel warm now.

With the sun just cresting the mountains, Kiran whistles for me to slow down. Dell’s girth and breast piece are lathered with foamy white sweat. She snorts in a pouty way, no doubt frustrated with Daphne’s extra weight. Now that we’ve stopped, I feel it too. I’m bone tired; the muscles in my legs are wobbling, threatening to give out.

Kiran leads us southwest, off my course, to a small pool that sparkles in the gray morning. He’s woken Daphne in a soft voice and is easing her down to the ground. Her legs give way and she stumbles, backing into a tree for support. She looks terrible: eyes blackened by smudged makeup and swollen by tears, the fake Virulent mark smeared across her nose and mouth, her hair slicked back with sweat and dew. She must realize this because a second later she turns away and begins to scrub her face clean with the neck of her dress.

Kiran beckons me over to a tree split by lightning down the middle. He swipes away a cobweb covering a hole and then pulls out a bow and a packed leather quiver hidden inside. I smile. It may have been a while since I’ve hunted, but I know just how it will fit against my shoulder and the ting the sinew will make when the arrow flies.