The Book Eaters(110)

“Seven exactly,” Cai said softly as they ghosted toward the entrance. “Dev, this is so cool. I feel like a spy!” He pressed a hand to his belly. “But my stomach still hurts.”

“We are spies, more or less,” she said, then tested the handle. The door was unlocked.

They stepped inside.

The brewery did not look quite right. The distilleries and tanks and all the usual gear were there, but one side had been cleared away and laid out with tables, burners, chemistry kits, and a few small vats. Plastic, lidded bottles nestled tight in metal racks, packed with pills. Half-finished Redemption was piled on one of the work surfaces. The sweetish smell of yeast and hops clashed unhappily with the metallic, chemical stench of drug-making. Devon wrinkled her nose, confused by mixed sensations.

Amarinder Patel was seated at a desk in the far corner, casually dressed in winter trousers, shirt, and a puffy jacket.

He rose as she approached, with the slowness of someone who was no longer on friendly terms with their own joints. “Evening, Ms. Fairweather.” A suitcase rested on the ground next to him; his glasses lay folded on the table. “Perfectly on time.”

“I’m glad to see you,” Devon said.

“The feeling is mutual. I’m keen to go.”

“Aren’t you concerned?” she said, genuinely curious. “I keep wondering when you’re going to ask me what will happen to these people after we leave.”

“I couldn’t care less,” the ex-journalist said bluntly. “I lost my career, my family, my whole way of living to spend twenty-two years in lonely anxiety, sometimes being tapped for my blood. Keeping a smile plastered on my face and making myself useful lest I get eaten. I want out.” He added, almost thoughtfully, “And I should rather like to publish my book, which Killock would never allow. To hell with him, in any case.”

“Fair enough. I won’t question that again.”

“Much appreciated.”

“Do you have the Redemption?” she said.

“Everything bottled and finished is in that suitcase,” he said. “The rest we’ll have to leave as is.”

“Seven ten,” said Cai cheerfully.

“Go keep watch,” she told him gently, “and there’s a lad. We don’t want anyone sneaking up on us.”

He nodded smartly and zipped over to the window, peering out between the slatted blinds.

Turning back to Mani, Devon picked up the suitcase, put it on the table, and clicked it open. The entire thing was stuffed with pills, carefully packed. Treasure beyond value, for her and Cai. Her hands trembled a little. All these months of strife for this single item of luggage, and the pills it contained.

Devon zipped the case up again. “Looks good,” she said. “What about the notes?”

“Two steps ahead of you.” He fished out a leather-bound notebook and tossed it over; she caught it reflexively. “Killock’s personal business diary. It lists components, quantities, shipments. Has a few notes on production. With time and perseverance, and samples of the drug itself, I’m certain you’d be able to crack the recipe.” He smoothed his moustache with an agitated gesture. “Can I safely assume that you have plans in place to prevent Killock coming after us? He’ll notice this book is missing by tomorrow, if not tonight.”

“Killock is about to have bigger problems,” Devon said. “The knights will be here in a few hours. They’re likely already in Innerleithen, waiting to descend.”

“I see.” He blinked slowly and adjusted his glasses. “A dangerous game to be playing, Ms. Fairweather.”

“It’s not a game,” Devon said, “not to me.” She tucked the notebook into her messenger bag, with the other important things they owned. “All right, you can come with us, and I will protect and assist you in escaping the country while we travel together. However, once we reach Ireland, any agreement between us is finished. We’ll part as allies, and peacefully go our separate ways. Agreed?”

“Suits me. I have no desire to live with ’eaters a moment longer than necessary. Again, no offense.”

“Again, none taken,” she said dryly.

Cai said suddenly, from his place at the window, “Dev, there are people outside.”

“What? Which people?” Devon crossed to the window, peering between the gap of blinds.

Two figures had emerged from the house to stand on the gravel driveway. Their conversation was inaudible from here, but the gestures were exaggerated and angry.

Mani joined her at the window, squinting myopically into the darkness. “Is that—”

“Killock?” she said tersely. “Yes. And the person he’s arguing with is Hester.”

The disagreement escalated. Echoes of shouting carried across the driveway that even Devon, from this distance and inside the brewery, could catch a hint of.

“What are they doing? Why are they fighting?” Cai whispered.

“Were you expecting her to come?” Mani said. “What about Killock’s presence?”

“I don’t know,” Devon said, “but I don’t like this all the same. It could be trouble.”

“Maybe we should make our exit, then,” Mani said, straightening up and leaning away from the window.

Devon grimaced. Truthfully, it’d be easier and smarter to just depart, in case whatever was happening outside spilled over to them and interfered in the escape. One less person to worry about on the journey that followed.