“Two, in fact,” I say. “Or did. Before.”
Of all the people in the world, I know he’ll understand.
“Did you do it for them?” he asks quietly.
“Become a wraith?” I ask. “Yes—no. I don’t know. I did it because I want to get back to them. I don’t know if it wasforthem. By the time I get back, we’ll all be adults. They won’t need me.”
He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Yes, they will.”
The look he gives me—it makes my stomach jolt as though the floor has fallen out from under me. “You be careful,” he says quietly.
I slip from his grasp and wedge into the elevator. “See you soon.”
He nods, and then he hits the button for the basement. The elevator lurches worryingly, then it begins to descend.
And then I am swallowed up by the building.
Alone in the dark, it’s impossible to escape my own fear. At least my low-simmering terror keeps the pain of my injuries at bay.
I want this all to be over, to fast-forward through the chaos and the pain and the responsibility. I want to not be responsible for hundreds of lives. I want a lot of things, none of them currently in my reach. So I’ll settle for this: I want Piper safe. I want that girl to grow up knowing that her older brother has her back. I want them both away from all of this. They deserve better.
As the darkness becomes impenetrable, my visor’s night vision automatically clicks on. The world shifts into eerie whites and greens, giving me a view of the small elevator.
The dumbwaiter jerks to a halt. I push open the little cupboard-like door and manage to maneuver myself out.
The laundry room looks the same as I left it. I navigate the darkness with my visor, skirting the metal rolling carts and the box of lost and found garments. The door is cracked a little, and I peer through before edging into the hallway.
The moment I’m in the hallway, I hear it: a whine of machinery, like that of a table saw or a sander.
Well, at least I know they’re down here.
I tiptoe down the hall, tote bag over my shoulder. The sound of machinery is nearly deafening, and I hope it will cover any noises I make.
I peer around the corner.
There it is. A dead end of a hallway that leads to the Portland Underground.
The door is bolted shut with metal bars. It was probably cheaper than a layer of cement. Corey stands in front of the door, wearing protective goggles and trying to cut through the bars with a saw. Sparks flicker into the air.
And there is Piper.
She’s on the floor. She has her head turned away from the door, her shoulders hunched as though to protect herself from the racket.
Consul stands over her. She still looks like someone’s aunt with her blond bob, a flower-print blouse, and high-waisted jeans. The only thing out of place is the gun tucked into her waistband.
And there is Vale, on her knees, rummaging through a backpack.
The hallway is a dead end with only one entrance. OnceI round this corner, I’ll be in full view. Consul can shoot me. Vale can shoot me. Corey can decapitate me with that saw. All in all, not an ideal place to stage a surprise attack.
The saw screeches again, then goes quiet. The silence is almostmoredeafening. I duck back around the corner.
“Damn it,” says Corey. “This isn’t working.”
“Keep trying,” comes Vale’s voice.
“Can you not?” That’s Piper. “It’s giving me a headache.” She is using the whiniest tone I’ve ever heard come out of a child’s mouth, and the sound makes me grin. At least the girl isn’t making this easy on her captors.
“Listen, kid,” says Corey. “You stay quiet, and I don’t have to tranq you.”
