“Yoohoo! Do I hear voices up there?”
“Ah shit,” Marc muttered as he swept his eyes around the room. His gaze fell on the window that warned that night would fall within the hour. He grabbed my upper arms and dragged me, and Ramaro along with me, to the glass, which he swung open. He leaned out and looked down at the ground some twenty feet below us. “We can get out here.”
Ramaro and my mouths dropped open, and the agama tried to scuttle out of his pouch. “Not me!”
Marc grabbed my hand and yanked me to the sill. Ramaro was shoved back into his hammock, and I was drawn onto the sill. A thick layer of vines covered the rear of the house.
I stared with bulging eyes at the drop before I whipped my head up to Marc. “Her cooking can’t be that bad.”
Marc looked me straight in the eye. “Have you ever seen a salad covered so much salt that it looked like a snowstorm had blown over it?”
My face drooped before I grabbed hold of the sill. “Let me go first.”
He grinned as he helped me up. “I thought I could convince you.”
“You can’t convince me this is a good idea!” Ramaro snapped.
A knock came from the door. “Helllooo? Is anyone in there?”
A little color drained from Ramaro’s scaly face, and he spoke in a hissing whisper. “Hurry it up!”
Marc helped me out the window, where I grabbed onto the thickest vines I could find. They held, and I eased myself down the wall. My heart pounded hard against my ribs, and I tried not to look down. That self-control lasted until one of the vines in my grasp pulled away from the house. I screamed as I was dropped several feet before the plant became tied up with its buddies. My feet flailed beneath me as I tried to find a foothold, and I glanced over my shoulder. The ground was still fifteen feet below me. The color drained from my face, and I pressed myself against the wall.
Ramaro popped his out of my jacket. “Stop looking and start climbing!”
Something dropped down and caught the vines beside me. I yelped and jerked back, but Marc grabbed my hand to keep me still. “Easy there. One foot at a time. I’ll be right beside you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll try.”
He tapped my forehead. “Trying is only the start. Doing is the finish, now let’s get down this wall.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. Meet you at the bottom.”
“One way or another. . .” Ramaro mumbled.
Chapter 15
I climbed down, and Marc was true to his word. He followed me at every foot, and I was immensely happy when my foot stepped onto hard ground. I landed and leaned my shoulder against the hard wall. We stood in a small garden surrounded by a high stone wall on all sides. A small gate stood at the rear, and a door led into the house.
“We made it,” I whispered as I clutched my hand over my heart.
Marc tilted his head back and studied the vines. They were the worse for wear. “We’ll have to think of another way to escape.”
Ramaro popped out again and glared at his captain. “Can’t we just tell her no and go out through the front door!”
“Too easy,” Marc quipped as he grabbed my hand and grinned at me. “Now it’s time to show you the real Cathair.”
He pulled me away from the wall and to the gate, which we slipped through. The exit led to a narrow alley filled with fragrant wildflowers and tall grass, except where horses and people had trodden. The ground was packed dirt in the middle, and we followed those trails to one of the cobblestone roads. We hurried up the road, and the further we traveled, the more people we met until we flowed with a steady stream of humanity.
The dwindling daylight allowed me to see more of the city, and what I beheld was a whole bunch of advertising posters and graffiti. The urban advertisements and art covered many of the stone walls that surrounded houses and the rear yards of businesses. Many of the brightest scrawls mentioned Iris, and one of the posters even had a picture of her.
I paused to admire the woman with the luscious brown hair and bright eyes. She had a perfectly round face, free from wrinkles, and a dimple on her left cheek. Her perfect smile stared at all the passersby, beckoning them to listen to her sweet voice. She wore a slim-fitting outfit that revealed more than she should have, as her collarbone had a few wrinkles that revealed her true age as something above forty.
Marc leaned against me and examined the poster. His attention fell on me. “What do you think of her?”
I shrugged. “She looks, um, nice.”
“Nice enough to catch Barreto’s attention back when we were young.”
