Shadowlark (11 page)

The man refused to answer any of my questions, pulling us back out of the alley again and marching us through the square towards the Central Processing building. When I glanced at Oren, he was moving along blank-eyed. The knuckles of his right hand were bleeding, the blood sliding down his fingertips and spattering the ground every time he took a step. He didn’t return my gaze.

There was no sign of Nix. Every time I heard the buzz of wings or the click of a mechanism turning over, my heart leaped. But it was always a courier pigeon on its way to deliver a message, or occasionally one of those bladelike flying machines the officers had worn.

We stumbled up the steps, as if he was leading us into CeePo itself. But then he let go of my arm and nodded to one of the officers standing guard outside the massive copper doors.

“Just taking these prisoners around the back, to interrogation.”

The guard nodded, and then we were moving again, this time following the arc of the building, marching in a giant parabola. When we reached the end of the crescent, however, instead of continuing around behind the building, he pulled us off to the side. We headed behind a huge metal support for a building above, something that must have once been a giant walker leg. There, concealed in the shadows, was a door.

It was barely visible, made of the same rusting metal as the wall, so that it melted into the background. It was only when I learned close that I realized the rust was painted on. It was so skillfully done that it looked three-dimensional, indistinguishable from its surroundings.

Our rescuer leaned against it, spreading his palm against the surface for a few moments. My skin tingled, and I realized I could feel a slight stirring of magic. It was tiny, so deftly and quietly done that I would’ve missed it had I not been standing a few feet away. But this close, it was unmistakable.

A Renewable.

Before I had time to process what that meant, there was a solid clunk somewhere inside the door and the slow, steady clanking of a mechanism turning over inside. Part of the rustpainted exterior slid aside, revealing a long dark slot into which the man inserted his arm, feeling around inside the door.

Then all at once the door swung inward, so abruptly that the balding man staggered. Standing on the other side was a young woman crowned with a wild halo of curly blonde hair. Her eyes went from the man to Oren and his battle scars— and then fell on me, where they stayed, widening. As if I was the shock and not Oren, who was dripping blood and staring all around with fierce, wary eyes.

“You got her,” she said, letting out a long sigh. “Damage?”

“Bystander,” the man replied. “Not one of ours. And they brought down an Eagle, don’t know if he’s going to make it. I’m meant to be taking them to the cells under CeePo.”

She nodded. She had a youthful face and a sweet voice, but something about the way she stood made me think she was older than she appeared. She kept watching me for a few moments, her gaze troubled. Then she turned back toward the man.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Just a second.” The man turned toward us, glancing first at Oren and then turning to me. “Olivia’s going to take you from here on in. Try not to kill anyone, okay? We’re trying to help you.”

“But—I don’t understand.” My head was still spinning, my eyesight sparking with magic. For some reason the man looked as though he was surrounded by pinpoints of gold and violet light, even though a second ago he’d looked completely normal.
The aftereffects of the magic I stole and used,
I realized. The effect was dizzying, but I held myself upright, refusing to lose control around people I didn’t know.

“We’ll explain later. Just trust us for a little while.”

His face was so earnest, his eyes so piercing, and yet I felt the bottom dropping out of my stomach. How many times had I been asked to trust someone over the past months? I felt my muscles tensing, my mouth going dry. And then a hand touched mine, a tingle of magic thrumming between us.

For once, Oren was the one keeping me grounded.

The man was watching me, waiting for my response. I nodded, and he breathed out in a rush, as if he’d been holding his breath. He straightened and started backing up, putting some distance between him and the hidden doorway.

“Okay, Vee. Make it count this time. Just don’t break my nose again.”

The blonde girl laughed and flexed her hand—which I noticed, suddenly, was wrapped up in strips of tape. “I’ll do my best.” She followed him, stretching and flexing her fingers.

“Confidence-inspiring,” he muttered and then closed his mouth, dropping his shoulders.

Without further warning, Olivia bounced up onto the balls of her feet, leaned back, and then threw her whole shoulder forward into a punch that knocked the man flat before he could utter another word.

I lurched back into Oren, who cursed, staggering as well. But we were in a corner formed by the wall and the old walker leg, and the blonde girl was between us and escape. My mind just quit, going absolutely blank. There’d been too much running, too much thinking—now it was like it had just given up.

The blonde girl advanced on us, shaking out her fist, wrinkling her nose. “Guess it’s better to be me than him, but goddamn, that hurts.” She must have seen my face. The chagrined, amused smile vanished, her brows drawing inward, lips pursing in concern. “Oh, hell, Wesley didn’t tell you guys anything, did he?”

It didn’t look like she was about to turn her fists on us. I tried to speak, but my dry throat made the words come out in a croak. “Not so much.”

Olivia sighed, rolling her eyes. The expression seemed bizarrely out of place on her angelic features, like it had been painted on a doll’s face. “Of course he’d leave it all on me. Asshole.” She ran her hand through her hair, setting the curls to disarray.

“Well, for starters, I’m Olivia. And you two just fought your way free from one of the Eagles’ deployment officers.” She inclined her head toward the prone form of the man she’d called Wesley. “When they find him, he’ll wake up and tell them all about it. But you’ll be long gone.”

I stared at her. She’d hit him hard enough to knock him out—and all for show?

Olivia winked. “Welcome to the resistance.”

• • •

The door in the wall led to a walkway that was half tunnel, half disused alley. At times I could see narrow snatches of the rainbow sky overhead, between the tall buildings on either side. Others, we had to stoop to fit through ventilation chambers and crawl spaces. We went up ladders and down staircases, and on one occasion climbed down a crumbling brick wall, using spots where the mortar had fallen away as handholds.

It seemed that earlier in the city’s history these were occupied buildings. But the other buildings had been built right on top of the old, half-crushing some, leaving others empty and abandoned, forming a strange undercity.

Cities under cities under cities—I thought of the people above, of Trina and Brandon and their children. They had no idea what existed beneath their feet.

It was like being in the tunnels under my home city again. Basil would have loved this. For the first time since the little girl had turned into a shadow, I felt as though I was able to take a deep breath. Sometimes it seemed as though the world was made of walls—I just hoped I’d come out on the right side of this one.

Olivia gestured for quiet the first few times I started to ask questions, glancing at the walls of the alley, the open air, the vents in the corridors. I could only assume we were passing between and below and above houses, or even government buildings. Eventually, however, we emerged into a broader corridor. We passed people occasionally now, and they’d nod at Olivia, eye Oren and I curiously. When one of them used the same name as Wesley had used, Vee, I asked about it. This time she didn’t shush me.

“Most of us don’t go by our real names. I guess it started as a way to stay anonymous, back when everyone was living double lives in the city. But now even most lifers, like me, have other names.”

“Lifers?”

“People who live entirely inside the walls. People Prometheus would have locked up, if he could find them.”

Oren made a small sound in his throat. When I looked at him, his face was stony, unreadable. But I could tell from the tension in his shoulders that he was ill at ease. One of us claustrophobic, the other afraid of the sky—there was no place where both of us could be.

“Will that man—Wesley—will he be okay?” The last I’d seen him, he wasn’t moving, lying in a heap on the ground.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. If prisoners disappeared on his watch all the time, they’d suspect him of being one of us right away. Make it look like he simply got overwhelmed, and knocked about in the process, and it’s much harder to point fingers at him.”

“Earlier, he was working with the Eagles—he sent someone away, just a kid.”

Olivia nodded. “He told us. Don’t worry, he wasn’t a Renewable. They get half a dozen reports like that a month. A neighbor misinterprets something, or just plain doesn’t like someone, or something turns up missing, and bam. Renewable sightings everywhere.”

“What’s going to happen to him? The kid they took?”

“They’ll run some tests on him and find out he’s not a Renewable, and he’ll be free in a day or two.”

“And what if he had been a Renewable?”

Olivia didn’t speak, but I saw the answer in the way her face tightened and smile vanished.

“Why go to all this trouble for us?” Oren didn’t bother to hide the suspicion in his voice.

“No offense,” Olivia replied. “But we don’t give a damn about you. It’s her we want. You just happened to get here with her.”

My chest tightened again. So much for being able to breathe here. I’d been here only a few hours, and already people wanted to use me. At least Olivia was being up front about it.

“Why me?” I sounded as suspicious as Oren.

“We’re not—we’re not sure.” Her voice was slightly troubled. “If nothing else, though, we could always use another Renewable.”

Oren glanced at me, blue eyes piercing. Though he didn’t speak, I knew what had prompted the look. These people thought I was a Renewable. I shook my head a fraction.

Let’s keep it quiet for now.

Wait until they told us what they wanted from me—and what would happen to me if I couldn’t help them.

I should change the subject, ask something else, but curiosity got the better of me. “How did you know what I was?”

“Wesley,” Olivia replied. “He’s Sighted. Most Renewables are, but he’s sharper than anyone. Usually his position within the Eagles makes him perfect for spotting new Renewables when they come through CeePo, but you just happened to catch him on his day off.”

It was strange that I hadn’t been able to tell Wesley was a Renewable until he’d opened the door with magic. Even then, the feel of magic nearby was faint, easy to miss. In the Iron Wood, everyone was surrounded by a warm, golden light when I used my second sight. But then, everyone there was a Renewable. There was no need to learn to hide it. Here, being a Renewable was grounds for being locked up.

Olivia turned and caught me staring hard at her, trying to see if she carried any telltale sparkles of hidden magic. She laughed. “You can stop squinting like that, I’m no Renewable.”

“Why do Renewables have to go through Central Processing?”

“Well, everyone does. But Renewables especially. Most people still hate them, so even if someone tries to hide, they’re usually ratted out by their neighbors.”

Deciding to redirect the conversation back to Olivia, I asked, “So if you’re not a Renewable, how do you know so much about them? About—us?”

Her reply was quiet. “I’m not a Renewable, but my twin brother was.”

I fell silent.

We reached another door, this one round and squat with a wheel on it. There was a small glass window in the top of the door, but it was so grimy that I could only see that there was light on the other side of it. The door was unlocked—Olivia just reached forward and heaved at the wheel, swinging the door open with a screech of hinges. Beyond it was a low-ceilinged room dominated by a long table covered in papers and halfdismantled machines. A few people stood around it, and heads turned towards us as we followed Olivia inside.

“Hey, guys,” she said as everyone’s eyes fell on me. “This is her. Lark Ainsley.”

I never told her my name.
It was like someone had thrown a vat of ice water over me. Beside me, Oren tensed, drawing nearer to me.

Part of me knew I should just run. Wrench away some magic—because more than one of the men around the table was a Renewable—and cast some sort of barrier, and use the confusion to get myself and Oren out of here.

But I was tired of being batted around from prison to prison, from one group of people using me to the next. Enough.

“How do you know who I am?” My voice was tight, stiff—iron-cold.

One of the men around the table straightened, breaking the tableau. He was a tall man in his forties, with well-worn clothing and a thick stubble spreading down his neck. He was staring at me as though looking at a long-lost friend, like someone he’d seen once in a dream.

“You
are
her,” he murmured. His eyes were wide, wondering.

I braced myself, slipping into my second sight, picking my targets. Part of me recoiled at how easy this was becoming. Where was the girl who’d once had nightmares of a shadow child’s scream as it fell down a cliff face?

“Parker.” Olivia’s voice was low, warning. Though she wasn’t a Renewable, she could clearly tell I was bracing for something. I saw her move, place herself between me and the door.

He swallowed, wrenching himself out of his stupor. “Yes, I see. Lark—Miss Ainsley. Please, stand down. You have to understand what a huge moment this is for us. You’re her— you’re really her.”

“I don’t see it.” That was one of the other men, a younger one, his voice full of skepticism.

Parker shook his head, though he never took his eyes from my face. “Trust me. This is Lark Ainsley. Imagine her five or six years younger—it’s her. The girl in the journal.”