Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(70)

“What? Y-you can’t do that.”

“Of course I can.” I pushed to my feet.

Allison pawed at my hand. “We’ve tried.” She gazed up with puffy, red eyes. “Mother went to the police and the firemen.”

“And no one would help?”

“It’s not that they won’t, but they can’t.”

“Why?” My voice was harsh and loud. “Dammit, Allison. Say what needs to be said.”

She howled again and flung her face into her hands. “H-hostages. Hostages at the Exhibition.”

Ice spread through my body all the way to my fingers and toes.

“What do you mean?”

No answer came, just more crying. I yanked her by the shoulders and shook her. “This is no time for hysteria—tell me what is going on!”

“The Dead!” Allison jerked out of my grip. “It’s the Dead! Th-they’ve taken hostages at the Exhibition.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The streets around the Exhibition were almost impenetrable. Shouts were on everyone’s lips, and violence was in the air. I could feel it like shimmering electricity that connected us all.

This is how riots begin.

I shoved my way through the crowd, ignoring angry protests, ignoring my sore muscles, ignoring the terror that churned in my belly. I had left Allison to Mary’s care—the maid would make sure Allison got home safely. I had to get to the Spirit-Hunters now.

I reached Elm Avenue and the train tracks that ran alongside it. Wagons were lined up before the Exhibition entrances, and interspersed between these barricades were Exhibition patrolmen. Black plumes of smoke twirled up from inside the grounds, and the scent of burning was in the air. It was as if war had come.

I marched up to the nearest patrolman. “I must go inside.”

“The Dead have taken over the whole Exhibition, lady—hostages and everythin’. No one in or out. Now back away.”

People clambered behind me, jostling and screaming. “How many walking Dead?” someone yelled.

“Dunno. Thousands, maybe.” The officer waved his pistol. “Get back!”

“If there are so many, why are you here?” I pointed at the barricade. “Why aren’t you doing something?”

“Our job is to keep people out. The hostages will be killed if we don’t.”

“And what about the firemen?” I demanded. “Where are they?”

The patrolman blinked his eyes rapidly. “They’re in there. The Dead started fires in the state buildings.”

Many nations and states had their own structures on the Exhibition grounds. That meant at least forty buildings were up in flames. The firemen would have their hands full for hours—maybe even days.

I hugged my arms over my chest. The necromancer had prepared for everything. He had stopped the Spirit-Hunters by destroying their lab. He had stopped the police and Exhibition guards by taking hostages. He had stopped the firemen by igniting the state buildings.

The patrolman glanced uneasily at the crowds behind me. They heaved closer and closer. “Besides,” he called out, “what’re we gonna do? We can’t kill the Dead.”

“No,” I snapped, “but we could set the Dead on fire! Explosives—anything!”

“And that’ll destroy the Exhibition. Not to mention put the living at risk.”

“Then break their knees—does no one pay any attention to the Spirit-Hunters?” I thrust my shoulders back. “Let me through.”

“No.”

He swung his gun at the nearest protesters. “All of ya! Back off or I’ll shoot!”

Like an ocean wave, the crowd pulled back, including me.

Well, I tried diplomacy and that failed. So distraction and speed it will have to be.

I turned to face the crowd. “Listen. Listen to me!” I shouted. “I’ve got loved ones in there too. If we want to keep them safe, we have to do as the police ask.” I glanced back. The patrolman had lowered his gun. He gave me a nod of approval. Perfect.

In a single movement I spun and leaped at the officer. His mouth dropped and he tried to lift his pistol, but I was already on him. I jabbed his arm aside and sped between the wagon barricades.

I didn’t look back. I held my skirts high and pumped my legs as fast as I could. I raced through the turnstiles.

A gunshot popped. I prayed it wasn’t at me. The cries of the crowd swelled to a roar, and I knew the police would have their hands full soon—if they didn’t already.

I flew across the main square, past the Bartholdi Fountain, and toward Machinery Hall’s eastern entrance. Another shot rang out, but I couldn’t tell if it was intended for me. Either way, I was too close to stop.

I slammed into Machinery Hall’s entrance. Two more shots fired. One cracked into the wooden door frame just above my head. I barreled inside.

The Spirit-Hunters’ lab door was open, and I skittered through. Daniel was at his table. He whirled around, his fists bouncing up and his stance dropping low.

He froze. “Empress. Why are you here?”

“To help.” I gulped in air and wiped sweat from my brow. “I heard about the hostages.”

Daniel had healed some since Saturday night, though not much. The skin around his left eye was purple and green, and the gash over his lip was a ragged scab.