Breach of Peace (The Lawful Times #0.5)(26)
Brev’s eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment, but he snapped back into reality the second Christi’s hand went back. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Go to the lost and found. Get everyone an unclaimed cloak. Then bring two in here for us.”
“Yes, ma’am.” And with that, sporting an extraordinary erection, Brev bounded from the room yelling orders.
Christi turned back to Khlid. “We have a fifty-fifty chance he’ll remember the cloaks for us. Girl, I don’t know what happened to you tonight, but I know every police precinct in the city. The closest is six blocks away.”
Khlid focused enough to realize she was a lot more than six blocks from Seventh Precinct headquarters. “No!” she said, much too loudly, but with what she had seen tonight. “It has to be the Seventh Precinct. We must make it to the Seventh.”
Christi began to protest, but seemed to realize something and closed her mouth. She bent down to look Khlid directly in the eyes. “It's like that, is it?”
Minutes later, the brothel was bustling with people preparing to make an organized dash into the rain. If Khlid had not been in shock, watching a few dozen sex workers scurry out into the night wearing oversized cloaks might have made her laugh. Tonight, the moment the door opened to the torrent outside, she froze in fear. It was out there. The hunter.
It took fairly extreme encouragement from Christi to usher Khlid out the door, but once she did, it took every ounce of her restraint not to start sprinting. They had to walk briskly like everyone else. Nothing to distinguish them from each other.
Water sloshing into her boots, the rain pounding against a borrowed leather cowl, the entire walk was a fear-coated blur to Khlid. She was convinced every breath would be her last. An impossibly fast assassin would swoop down from one of the rooftops and kill her and the mother foolhardy enough to help her before they had time to react. Yet it never happened. They made it all the way to Eighteenth Street without incident. It was not until Christi’s pounding on the Seventh Precinct door was answered by a startled, fresh-faced officer that Khlid allowed herself to hope she might live through the night. She recognized him—his name was Jun—one of three junior recruits left to staff the precinct while the rest of the on-duty officers went on the raid.
Jun protested as the mother tried to push her way inside, which made sense, given that nearly the entire force was out on a raid. It wasn’t until Christi pulled Khlid’s hood back and revealed her face that Jun relented. His eyes went wide and his face dropped. The implications of her being here, alone, the rain mixing with tears on her bruised face, visibly struck Jun.
He ushered them inside and out of the pouring rain.
7
The Truth
The cigarette Khlid held had nearly burned down to her fingers. She sat on the floor of the interrogation room, her back against the wall. The captain had pulled up one of the two chairs from the table. He sat next to her, wet stains on his cheeks. Khlid had finally managed to recount most of what had happened to the captain, who listened horrified, trying to suppress his shock. When he began to prompt her, attempting to get the information from her faster, she began to sob. As he held her shuddering shoulders, she had at last managed to wail the words, “Sam is dead!” and the captain had gotten very quiet.
Khlid bowed her head, the effort of the admission taking an immediate physical toll. There were no tears left, just a raw, corporeal mourning. The only thing she felt now was a deep and tearing loss. The kind that never truly goes away. She craved Samuel’s arms around her now, more than she ever had. His embrace would undo everything that had gone wrong. Facing an invincible enemy would seem manageable with him at her side. Without him, Khlid felt helpless. There wasn’t going to be a fight. Just a series of executions.
The particulars of the last few rain-and adrenaline-soaked hours were already fogging over in Khlid’s mind. Shock would do that.
Khlid was pretty sure the downpour had saved her life. The Chosen who had chased her was eager to eliminate the last witness. But the storm had evened the odds, obscuring Khlid’s path, slick cobbles reducing the Chosen’s speed advantage.
Leaning back in his chair, the captain finally broke the silence. “Chapman… was truly a member of the rebellion. He forced us all into a situation where we would see something we weren’t supposed to see.” Khlid had never seen the man so morose. His eyes looked impossibly sunken.
Khlid let the cigarette fall from her fingers.
“I bought his story… I believed it.”
Khlid laid her head back against the wall as fresh tears streamed down her face. Apparently she did have more to spill. Samuel.
The captain continued, “Whatever it was that attacked you…” He paused and took a long breath. “No, we can’t ignore facts. The way you describe it, that was one of the Anointed.”
Khlid broke her silence. “If you say those words outside of this room, you’re dead.” A pure statement of fact. If officers of the law made accusations of any kind against one of the Anointed, those chosen by the Almighty, they would be killed without trial. It was treason. Even if the accusations were true, an Anointed could do as they pleased. They were not bound by law or Ministry. Only the orders of the Almighty. Samuel’s summary murder had been absolutely within the bounds of Imperial Right. The only one who might be punished would be Khlid, for having left the scene.