To Best the Boys(63)
“Rhen, the door!”
Seleni jumps for the metal door opposite us that just lifted open. Whatever lever Lute hit must’ve been rigged to raise it while bringing down the other.
I grab Lute and start for it, when Beryll yells, “Wait, I’m stuck!”
I spin around.
Beryll’s leg is partially wedged in the crevice between the wall and the now-fallen door.
“Beryll!” Seleni scrambles over to tug him free. When the thing won’t move, she starts clawing at it with her nails. I rush to help her, but Beryll holds out a hand to stop us. His bare, bloody chest is turning pale and his face now free of Seleni’s scarf is twisted in pain, and when he speaks his tone is more angry than anything. “It’s not going to work. I’m not going anywhere until Holm gets me.”
I keep digging anyway, as Seleni says, “But you have to move—you have to keep going—we’re almost there!”
His cheeks hollow as he sucks in and winces. “It’s stuck solid, and—broken I think.”
She crouches on her haunches and stares him straight in the eye. “Beryll Jaymes, we are not leaving you down here. Now help us—”
He pulls her face in with both hands and plants a kiss firmly on her lips. “Miss Lake, I’m serious that I’m not going anywhere. So go, and I’ll see you soon.”
Behind me, the metal door lets out a squeal as if it’s going to fall. Lute reaches out to shove his hands up to hold it. “Rhen, this thing is moving.”
Seleni turns to glance at him, then looks over at me. She inhales. Then nods. “You two catch up with Vincent and Germaine. I’ll stay with Beryll.”
I ignore her and keep digging around Beryll’s leg, which, judging by the weight of the boulder on it, is most definitely broken. “Not a chance.”
The metal door starts shaking, dropping more dust on us. She grabs my hands and yanks them from the rocks. “Rhen, go. I’ve got this.”
I shake my head. “Beryll’s actually hurt, Seleni.”
“I know. But you can’t help us—only Holm can. So go find him.” She tugs my hands from the rubble and forces me to stand and look at her as the metal door makes a noise like it’s beginning to bow. “I came to support Beryll. And to show what we can do. But I’m not like you, Rhen. I want you to win—I want you to show them you can. But my way of winning is different, and it’s my own choice. I’ve always wanted the life of a wife, and mother, and helpmate to my husband, and I know you may not think much of that, but it’s what I want. And I’d be proud of it. Same as I’ll be proud of whatever you do.”
I look at her and blink. I think I know that. I think I’ve always known that.
“And I think that desire is just as noble as what you’re doing, if that’s the life I want and choose. So I’m staying here with what I want. And you are going to go get what you want. Are we clear?”
I bite my cheek and eye her, then Beryll.
Then nod.
Because of course it’s clear. Her life may not be for me, but it is for her.
The walls shake and dust crumbles into my eyes as the metal door shrieks and strains against its hinges. “Rhen, this thing’s coming down,” Lute says through gritted teeth.
The expression in Seleni’s eyes hardens. “You win this thing, Rhen Tellur. Enough to make Vincent and Germaine regret they weren’t born women. And then you burn those horrid dead-boy clothes you’re wearing to the ground, because I don’t ever want to be seen with you in them again.”
With that, she shoves me toward the door Lute’s holding up, steps back as a light flickers on, and offers up a wide smile. “See you two on the outside.”
The ghouls are still screaming as I step in. The next moment Lute’s hands drop and the metal door falls. And suddenly the room Lute and I just locked ourselves in lurches, and the ground beneath me feels like it’s plunging away. It takes my stomach with it as the whole thing begins flying upward toward the surface.
20
It’s approximately ten point three seconds before the moving room slows and comes to a full stop with a soft thud.
Lute slips his hand into mine and we wait for the door to open.
It doesn’t.
He steps over to press against it, while I peer around for another lever, but there is none. The box we’re in is made of smooth metal and nothing more.
“Hello?” I yell. “Mr. Holm? Mr. Kellen?”
The overhead light brightens, makes a whirring sound, then it’s shining at the wall in front of us, which starts to ripple, and a set of words appears:
WHO ARE YOU?
I glance at Lute.
He frowns and grips my hand tighter just as the metal wall shudders and squeals, and the door slides open, and we are looking directly into the face of Mr. Kellen. Or rather, Mr. Holm. Whichever is his actual name.
“Welcome, Rhen Tellur from the Port, whose uncle owns a study and who has joined my sport. It’s quite nice to see you again.” He chuckles and tips his head as if assessing me. “I’m glad you took my advice.”
I pause. He knows who I am and that I’m in his contest.
I point to the metal floor and don’t ask how long he’s known, or what he’s going to do about it, or even what advice he’s referring to. “Our friends in the catacombs need immediate—”