Glass Sword (Red Queen #2)(66)
The dark halls and dead cameras remind me of the Hall of the Sun, of sneaking down to the palace dungeons to save Farley and Kilorn from certain death. But I was almost a princess there. I wore silk, and I had Julian at my back, singing his way through each and every guard, bending their will to our purpose. It was clean, spilling no blood but my own. The Security Center is not like that. I can only hope to keep the casualties to a minimum.
Cal knows where to go, and keeps the lead, but he does nothing more than dodge the officers who try and stop us. For a brute, he’s quite graceful, shouldering around blows from strongarms and swifts. He still won’t hurt them, and leaves that burden to me. Lightning destroys just as easily as flame, and we leave a trail of bodies in our wake. I tell myself they’re only unconscious, but in the heat of battle, I can’t be sure. I can’t control my surges as easily as I make them, and it’s likely I killed one or two. I don’t care—and neither does Farley, her long knife plunging in and out of the dark shadows. It drips metallic silver blood by the time we reach our destination, an unremarkable door.
But I feel something remarkable within. A vast machine, pulsing with electricity.
“Here. The records room,” Cal says. He keeps his eyes on the door, unable to look back at our carnage. True to his word, he bathes the surrounding hallway in flame, creating a wall of twisting heat to protect us while we work.
We push through the door. I expect mountains of paper, printed lists like the one Julian gave me, but instead I find myself staring at a wall of flashing lights, video screens, and control panels. It pulses, sluggish from my interference with the wiring. Without a thought, I put a hand to the cold metal, calming myself and my ragged breathing.
The records machine responds in kind, and kicks into a high whir. One of the screens blinks to life, showing a fuzzy black-and-white display.
Text flits across the screen, drawing a gasp from Farley and me. We’ve never imagined, let alone seen, anything like this.
“Remarkable,” Farley breathes, reaching out with a tentative hand.
Her fingers brush along the text on-screen, reading slowly. Large letters spell out Census and Records, with Beacon Region, Regent State, Norta written in smaller type below.
“They didn’t have this in Coraunt?” I ask, wondering how she found Nix’s location in the village.
She dully shakes her head. “Coraunt barely has a post office, let alone one of these.” With a grin, she clicks one of the many buttons beneath the glowing screen. Then another, and another. The screen flashes each time, typing out different questions. She giggles like a child, continuing to click.
I put my hand over hers. “Farley.”
“Sorry,” she replies. “A little help here, Your Highness?”
Cal doesn’t step back from the door, his neck craning back and forth to check for officers. “The blue key. Says search.”
I press the button before Farley can. The screen darkens for a moment, before flashing blue. Three options appear, each one inside a flashing white box. Search by name, search by location, search by blood type.
Hastily, I hit a button marked select, choosing the first box.
“Type in the name you want, then hit proceed. Hit printout when you find what you want, it’ll give you a copy,” Cal instructs. But a shouting curse draws his gaze away, as an officer makes blistering contact with his fiery barricade. A gunshot blasts, and I pity the stupid guard trying to fight fire with bullets. “Quickly now.”
My fingers hover over the keys, hunting down each letter as I type out Ada Wal ace in frustratingly slow motions . The machine whirs again, the screen flashing three times, before a wall of text appears. It even includes a photograph, the one used on her identification card. I linger on the picture of the newblood, taking in Ada’s deep golden skin and soft eyes. She looks sad, even in the tiny image.
Another gunshot echoes, making me jump. I turn my focus on the text, skimming through Ada’s personal information. Her birthday and birth location I already know, as well as the blood mutation that marks her as a newblood like me. Farley searches too, her eyes scanning over the words with abandon. “There.” I point a finger at what we need, feeling happier than I have in days.
Occupation: Housemaid, employed by Governor Rem Rhambos. Address: Bywater Square, Canal Sector, Harbor Bay.
“I know it,” Farley says, jabbing at the printout button. The machine spits out paper, copying down the information from Ada’s record.
The next name comes even faster from the humming machine.
Wol iver Galt. Occupation: Merchant, employed by Galt Brewery. Address: Battle Garden and Charside Road, Threestone Sector, Harbor Bay. So Crance wasn’t lying about this, at least. I’ll have to shake his hand if I ever see him again.
“About done?” Cal shouts from the door, and I hear the strain in his voice. It’s only a matter of time until nymphs come running, and his flaming wall crashes down.
“Nearly,” I murmur, clicking at the keys again. “This machine isn’t just for Harbor Bay, is it?” Cal doesn’t respond, too busy maintaining his shield, but I know I’m right. With a grin, I pull the list from my jacket, and thumb to the first page. “Farley, get started on that screen.”
She jumps to attention like a rabbit, gleefully clicking until the next panel screen hums to life. We pass the list between each other, typing in name after name, collecting one printout after another. Every name from the Beacon region, all ten of them. The girl from the New Town slums, a seventy-year-old grandmother in Cancorda, twin boys on the Bahrn Islands, and so on. The papers pile on the floor, each one telling me more than Julian’s list ever could. I should feel excited, ecstatic at such a breakthrough, but something throttles my happiness. So many names. So many to save. And we are moving so slowly. There is no way we’ll find them all in time, not like this. Not even with the airjet or the records or all of Farley’s underground tunnels. Some will be lost. There is no avoiding it.