The cats were clustered on filing cabinets and desks, wailing. Using the cacophony as cover, I ran to the ladder on the far wall and began to climb. Half the cats fell silent, watching me. They couldn’t follow, but they would watch. I found that oddly comforting; whatever happened next, it wouldn’t happen unseen or in secret. The cats would see, and they’d tell Tybalt.
Being soaked didn’t make the climb any easier. The ladder ended just as I started to feel like my knees were going to give out, and I stepped onto the catwalk, my wet shoes making a marshy slapping sound. There were footsteps ahead of me, just around the corner. I leaped forward in a wild dash. “Stop right where you—”
April was standing over Quentin’s body, looking back over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and sad.
“—are,” I finished, sliding to a stop.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and disappeared.
Something pressed against the small of my back. Behind me, Gordan said cheerfully, “Maybe the gun works, maybe it doesn’t. Now put your hands where I can see them. I’d say this wasn’t going to hurt, but we both know I’d be lying.”
Oh, great.
THIRTY-TWO
“YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FOLLOWED. I’d have taken good care of him,” she said. “Walk until you hit the wall, then turn and put your shoulders against it. Keep your hands away from that knife. It wouldn’t do you any good, anyway.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, walking forward. I couldn’t count on the gun being waterlogged, and if it wasn’t, there was no way I’d get Quentin clear before she shot one of us. For the moment, I needed to go along with her and hope for a chance to turn the tables.
“I need to be able to reach your wrists, and I can’t trust you to hold still without incentive. Hence your pretty boy.” She sighed. “Honestly, I haven’t been able to trust you to do anything. You don’t follow directions.”
I reached the wall and turned, stealing a glance at Quentin. He was breathing. I covered my relief, looking back at Gordan. She was smiling and relaxed; the tension of the past few days had melted out of her like it had never existed. I’d have been relaxed, too, if I was the one with the gun.
“That’s better,” she said. “I’m glad you’re being so agreeable. It hurts the data if you’re damaged before we begin.”
“Haven’t we already invalidated your data, if you need us undamaged?”
“I’m a little worried, yeah—are you always this fond of trying to get yourself killed?” She shook her head. “I was starting to wonder if you’d last until I got around to you.”
“You were the one that kept trying to kill us,” I snapped.
“Details. That was just an impulse.” She waved a hand, keeping the gun trained on my chest. “I didn’t want you calling your master and his hounds, not after I’d gone to so much trouble to keep him from knowing what was going on. April does a surprisingly good imitation of your liege, don’t you think?”
“You little . . .”
Gordan smiled, seemingly unperturbed. “I’ll admit, it was sort of hard to talk her into it. Little idiot didn’t understand how it supported our project. Still, it had the desired effect; you don’t listen, but you’re still predictable. And don’t worry about my work—I figure I can use you, injuries and all. It’ll be interesting to see what happens when I start with damaged goods.”
“What are you going to do now?” My options were limited by our surroundings: there was nothing for me to throw or hide behind, and if I went for the knife, we’d find out fast whether or not her gun worked. I was sure she’d planned it that way. A waist-high railing ran along the catwalk’s edge, broken only by the ladder access gaps. Even if the gun didn’t work and I managed to outrun her, I’d never get Quentin down.
“That’s easy.” There was a deep, wide madness in her eyes. It was there all along; I’d somehow mistaken it for grief. Stupid me. “April’s gone for the equipment. You should be grateful. You’re going to have a grand adventure!”
“Our last one,” I said. Elliot was bleeding to death on the floor below, Tybalt was taking care of Connor, and Terrie was out for Oberon-only-knew how long; no one was going to find us until it was too late. She could kill us both and walk away unscathed. She was going to win.
“The odds that you’ll survive aren’t good, but it’s not impossible. We’ve made great strides! Every failure is another step toward success!”
“You’re talking about killingus!”
“Isn’t it sad? But this is important! We’re making sacrifices for the greater good!”
“Sacrifices like Barbara?”
Her manic cheer slipped for a moment, showing the anger behind it. “That was an accident,” she hissed, finger tightening on the trigger.
I have a few basic rules for dealing with guns. First, don’t let anyone else have one. Second, if you must let someone else go armed, try not to tease them. I put my hands up, saying soothingly, “I’m sure it was.”
“I didn’t know it would kill her! I thought I’d fixed the problems, and she was so upset about the cats. She was going to demand we abandon the whole project, and . . . and . . .”
“And you thought you’d show her just how well it could really work.”
“Yes,” she said, desperately. That’s the nice thing about insanity: evil people kill you, but crazy ones try to make you understand. “I could do it one last time—do it right—and she’d see. We’d be finished. We could go public, and everything would be . . . better.”
“But something went wrong.” She was silent. I frowned. “You still don’t know what went wrong, do you?”
“I’ll find it!”
“I’m sure you will.”
Gordan shook her head as if to clear it, and then smiled. “I will, thanks to you and your courtly boy. Every bit of data helps. If you survive, it’ll tell me everything, and if you die, you’ve helped save Faerie. Be proud. You’ll be remembered as pioneers of our brave new world.”
“Sacrifices are always remembered that way.”
“If it bothers you to think of yourselves as sacrifices, don’t. Think of yourselves as . . . explorers running the risk of sailing off the edge of the world. It’ll only hurt for a second. Once the current starts up, you won’t feel anything at all. You won’t even be able to move.”
That explained why none of their victims struggled. Use April to get the machine on them, flip a switch, and they were frozen while they died. April didn’t help to kill Jan, and so she wasn’t caught the right way. “Let Quentin go, Gordan,” I said. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Maybe if you’d sent him away when I told you to, I could have, but it’s too late now.” She glanced over her shoulder. “April should be back soon. It’s nice, having an assistant who doesn’t understand that space is supposed to be linear. She’s so efficient.”
I began inching away from the wall. She turned immediately, a small, chiding smile on her face. “Uh- uh. No funny business.”
“You’re using her,” I said, slumping back against the wall.
“Who, April? I didn’t use her. She came willingly.”
“Did she understand what she was doing?”
“What wewere doing, you mean? Of course she did. She understood we were helping others be like her. Of course, she didn’t know they wouldn’t come back after they were shut down, but that doesn’t matter. She still agreed.”
“It matters to me.”
“It doesn’t. No one’s coming to save you. I’ll kill you, and the boy, and then we’ll take out your stray cat and the seal. Don’t worry. I’ll tell your liege you died heroically. So sad. April and I will be the only survivors, and we’ll be heartbroken . . . but we’ll continue our work.” She glanced around. “Where isshe? April!” The echo of her shout bounced off the walls. “Stupid girl.”