Angel Of The City (8 page)

“
Obercounselor, promoted to his position by the Director General himself. Many in the Council took exception to that. Advancement is almost always done from within. He’s known as the Director’s personal lapdog and has never been completely trusted by the rank and file.”

“
How do you know all this?”

I give her a glance that makes it clear there won
’t be an answer forthcoming.

“
Fine,” she says. “I suppose the less we know about each other the better. So how long before they come after us?”

“
It’s not like Remy can just call the Ministry and accuse Keillor directly. He’ll have to be subtle and it’s late. I don’t think he’ll know anything definitive until morning. But Ellison will miss his checkin in a few hours and someone will come looking for him.”

After we
’ve rested a while, I help her up and for the first time, notice that she’s wincing. “Are you hurt?”

“
I’ll be fine, but I could use some water.”

“
Stay here.”

I walk down the alley, scanning the names above the delivery doors until I see one with the word,
‘bakery’. I don’t have my tool kit with me, but it shouldn’t be difficult to force the door. Scrounging around in the trash I find a thin piece of scrap iron, about four feet long. I wedge it in the door jamb and pull hard. As expected, the lock snaps easily and the door swings open. Even in this precinct, there will have been silent alarms, but I have a few minutes before the Blueshirts arrive.

I enter through the back mixing area filled with large steel vats, shiny and empty. I run my hand along the inside of one and come up with a good amount of dust. Hasn
’t been used in some time. Bread’s been in short supply too.

Fa
rther in, I find a tall rack with a dozen large metal shelves. Most are empty, but two have a few loaves ready to sell in the morning, cheap as day-old. I grab a loaf and continue to look around, finally coming across cases of gallon-jugs of water. No decent baker would use the stuff from the tap. I take a jug and head out the back, not bothering to close the door. The Blueshirts will take care of that.

I get back to Abby
and we work our way northeast a few more blocks, still heading toward the one-twelve, but far enough away from the station house to not risk running into Blueshirts. There’s an abandoned building and I force open the boards covering a street-level window, helping Abby inside. It’s dark, but enough moonlight filters in through the higher windows for us to find our way around. We’re in what was probably a nice living room at one time, but is now just a dusty space crowded with junk. We find a couple of chairs and pull them into the center of the room. It’s cold even without the wind, but I won’t risk a fire.

I open the water and
hand it to her, grabbing it as she tips it back and starts swallowing great mouthfuls.

“
Slow. You’ll cramp up if you drink too fast.”

She lowers the jug and wipes her mouth on the back of her sleeve. The bread is hard and cold, but she doesn
’t seem to mind as I break off a piece and hand it to her. We eat in silence.

Half the loaf is gone before she speaks.
“You’re sure Pen is safe?”

“
Safer than with you.”

She flashe
s me an angry stare, her eyes iridescent in the moonlight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“
Hey lady, you want to martyr yourself against the government, go right ahead. But don’t pretend you didn’t know they’d come after your sister as well.”

“
Of course I knew, but what was I supposed to do, leave her to face the authorities alone? And stop calling me lady. My name is Abby.”

“
I know, the Angel of the City.”

She looks away
, a blush rising on her cheeks visible even in the dim light. “That was Kingston’s idea. He thought it was good propaganda.”

“
Are you kidding? Rich girl from good family leaves the wealth and comfort of the Garden District to fight for the downtrodden masses? It has recruitment poster all over it.”

Her eyes narrow
. “You’re pretty cynical for a common thief.”

“
Garden-variety, not common. There’s a difference.”

“
I’ll try and remember that. So how is it a garden-variety thief knows so much about me?”

“
I wouldn’t call it much. About all I know is that you were a math major in college and didn’t get along with your father.”

“
Who told you that?”

“
Pen. She’s been staying with me.”

An icy stare.
“What do you mean, ‘staying with you’?”

The
unspoken accusation sets off something inside me. Suddenly I’m on my feet, glaring down at her. “That’s what yer worried about? The two o’ ye are bein’ hunted by Cosags and yer worried I might ‘ave diddled yer little sister?

“
Yer nae wanted fer some petty crime; yer the face of a movement that has directly challenged the gov’ment. Is it possible ya dinna know what that means? When they find ye again—n’ they will—they’ll keep ye in an interrogation cell fer weeks. Any horror stories ye might o’ heard about Counselor interrogation are nothin’ compared to the reality. Long ‘afore they end yer life, they’ll have ye crawlin’ on yer hands n’ knees like a beast, beggin’ fer daith!”

She closes her eyes and turns away.

“And anythin’ they do tae you, they’ll do tae Pen. Only they’ll do it tae ‘er first. And they’ll make you watch.”

“
Shut up!”

The fit passes and
I stagger back to the chair, falling into it, breathing through my mouth, my head hung low. The pain in my head is excruciating, so bad it blurs my vision. But at least I’m not in danger of throwing up in my lap—for now.

Abby glares
at me, her eyes moist. “You’re a bastard.”

I
make an effort to swallow back the bile that has crept up into my throat. “Aye, ah know. An accident o’ birth.” The headache is unreachable, but that doesn’t stop me from rubbing my forehead in a vain attempt to get at it. “A joost… I just want you tae understand what you’ve done.”

“
You think I don’t know? I’m not an idiot. I didn’t ask for this. I had no other choice.”

I try closing my eyes, but it just makes me dizzy and I quickly open them.
“There are always choices.”

“
Believe that if you want,” she says wearily.

I
want to wash the taste of bile from my mouth, but I don’t trust my stomach. I pour some water into my hand and wipe the clammy sweat from my face.

“
Alba district?” she asks, avoiding my gaze.

I nod

“You hide the accent well.”

“
I had a determined teacher.” I don’t want to get further into it and change the subject. “Pen said the two of you were raised by your father.”

She raises an eyebrow.
“What?”

“
I was asking about your father.”

“
So what, we’ve moved on to small talk now?”

“
If you like.”

She shakes her head, wiping her eyes.
“You’re not a very complicated man, are you?”

I don
’t take the bait. I’m not trying to argue with her, I’m just giving myself some time; trying to come up with a reason to sit here until I can move without throwing up all over myself.

“
Fine. Yes, my mother died when I was nine; aneurysm, they said.”

“
I’m sorry. What was she like?”

“
My mother?” A pause. “I remember her being a very gentle woman.”

“
But not too fond of the Ministry?”

“
What has Pen told you?”

“
Not much. That’s why I’m asking you.”

She stares back
with a look like she’s not going to answer, but she surprises me. “I guess you’d say she wasn’t supportive. She was always fretting about people, especially those that lived outside the Garden, about how hard their lives were. She used to talk about it a lot.”

“
I didn’t think people in the Garden worried much about what went on outside it.”

“
Most don’t. I remember once she took me in our car and we snuck out of the gates. Just drove around the city. I was scared, but she made me look out the window the whole way. She told me I should never forget that this was the way most people had to live. I never did.”

“
And your dad?”

“
He was furious when he found out. Said he didn’t want her filling my head with ridiculous ideas. I don’t think he ever really understood her. After she died, he didn’t have much to do with us. He wasn’t cruel, just sort of detached, especially with Pen.”

“
So, you’ve been a rebel since childhood.”

I wasn
’t making fun, but her lips turn up in a smile anyway. “Only in my own home. I never spoke out until I was in university and even then, only to a few trusted friends. I’m not brave by nature.”

“
Could have fooled me.”

The unexpected praise puts her guard down
. Something like gratitude reflects in her eyes. “Thank you, but it’s not hard to be brave when you have no other options. My mother once told me that her dream was to see a better world than the one we live in. I suppose that’s my dream too.”

“
Big dream.”

A shrug.
“Dreams should be big, or why have them?”

The headache is fading into a dull throb, but I
’m still fighting to keep the bread down. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t dream.”

“
Everyone dreams.”

“
Not everyone.” I toss the rest of the loaf to her. “Go ahead, finish it. It might be sometime until your next meal.”

She tears off a piece, chewing it slowly
. “So how much did Kingston pay you?” She asks.

“I told you, I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“
All right, but someone obviously hired you. Surely you can tell me who.”

She
’s right. Devon said he wanted to meet her and she might as well know what she’s in for.

“
Devon Blaze,” she says. “I’ve heard of him. Nothing good. Why would someone like that help me?”

“
I haven’t quite figured that out myself. But whatever the reason, he’s anxious to meet you.” I glance at my watch. “C’mon. It’s time we were moving again.”

We continue to the one t
welve using only back streets and alleys. Neither us of will trigger a scanner but there’s always the chance of being picked up on a stray monitor, so we keep to the shadows. We reach the nest a few hours before dawn.

I
’ve barely opened the door before Pen and Abby are hugging, tears flowing. Again I notice Abby wincing in the embrace.

“
Pain worse?” I ask, when they separate.

She nods.

“Show me.”

She hesitates, looking between her sister and me, then slowly lowers the zipper of her station uniform.

Her breasts are swollen and tense with a deep purple color to the skin. Angry red lines mark the skin where the breast attaches to the chest wall.

I grab my medical kit.

“What did they do to you?” Pen gasps.

“
Binding,” I answer. “They take thin twine and wrap it around the base of the breast, cutting off circulation to the tissue.”

Pen makes a look of disgust.

“The pain is bad, but nothing compared to what happens when they cut the cords free and the blood suddenly flows back. It can be excruciating.”

I pull a hypo out of the kit and draw up a clear liquid through a vial.

Abby watches me closely. “You seem to know a lot about it.”

“
I know enough. There won’t be any permanent damage, but the pain can last for days. This is will help.”

She only hesitates a moment before nodding.

I inject it quickly into her right hip, then check my watch. There’s no sign that we’ve been missed, but that will change shortly. A dead Counselor; two escaped prisoners—soon the streets will be thick with Blueshirts and Counselors.

“
We’ll have to spend the night here. We can try for Devon’s tomorrow night. It will be too risky to move during the day for a few weeks at least.”

Abby finds a chair and sits down, the effects of the drug already apparent.
“I’m thankful for Devon’s help, but I’m not interested in meeting him. I have to get to my own people.”