“We’re almost out of fuel,” I say. “I’m going to have to set her down.”
I bank the craft in an arc around the Lady’s face. For a moment, her large stone eyes fill the cockpit windows, calm, reassuring. Then we’re around her, pointing in the direction of her gaze.
At the dark remnants of her ruined city.
I veer the craft as best as I can as we half-glide, half-plummet toward the skeletal structures looming before us like the corpses of long-dead behemoths. “Hang on!”
Most of the city is half-submerged in the dark waters. Massive structures whiz by us in a blur of broken concrete and twisted metal. The streets that aren’t completely submerged are cracked and broken by craters, jammed with all manner of rusting vehicles.
The tallest building I’ve ever seen is directly in our path, getting closer by the second. Our only chance is to eject. Unhooking my restraints, I lunge for the overhead compartment. There’s only one glider chute. As much as I hate what he did to me, I can’t bring myself to leave Digory to his death. Not without answers. Wasting no time, I strap on the chute and make sure the rucksack is still strapped to my body. “Digory! Let’s go!”
Remaining silent, he springs to my side—lithe, like a creature acting on instinct rather than a comprehension of my words—and grabs me tight.
I jam my fist into the control panel. The escape hatch blows open and we’re sucked out, tumbling into thin air. Behind us, the Squawker slams into the building and ignites in a fireball.
I can feel the heat singeing my skin as I pull the rip cord. The glider’s wings spring forward, halting our descent with a jolt.
Just ahead, a large canopy of trees covers a vast area, a mossy shroud shielding the area from prying eyes.
We crash through the underbrush. Branches scratch my face and hands, snapping and cracking all around us. Then our bodies slam into something solid and rough. The bark of a tree.
I feel lightheaded and disoriented. My body is swaying upside down, dangling from the remnants of the glide chute. We’re lodged in the branches of a massive tree, the long, tangled limbs writhing in the gusts of chilled wind.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings.
A low purr from below vibrates through the air. My skin erupts into gooseflesh. Two glowing yellow eyes are staring up at me, attached to a sinewy, fur-lined shape as dark as shadow. Some kind of felis, but larger than I’ve ever seen before. Sharp claws glisten in the moonlight. Its muscled legs flex, and its body coils as it prepares to spring.
It leaps for me. My body tenses as I try to curl up and away. I’m just out of its range, but the tip of its huge paw grazes my shoulder, tearing a gash through it. The pain is searing, but not as potent as the fear of what it would feel like to get eaten alive.
The branches above me snap with a loud crack and the glide chute drops another foot, putting me into the creature’s range. It lets out an ear-shattering growl, ready to spring again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Digory spring past me to the ground. He grabs the creature in a headlock with one arm. In his other hand, he’s clutching a long stone shard, which he drives halfway into the animal’s skull.
Rip!
When he tears it out, it’s dripping with blood, splattering darkness all over his heaving bare chest.
Digory lets out an unearthly sound—part anguish, part guttural savage—that prickles every inch of my skin. The way the moonlight catches his eyes, they seem to glow, too, just like the creature’s.
Snap!
The glider crashes through the tree and I drop—
TWENTY-SEVEN
Light.
My eyelids feel like a burden as I struggle to finally pry them open. I squint against the dawn’s first rays, streaks of pink and yellow stretching tentatively over the fresh canvas of a new day. Unlike the unseasonably long and harsh winter in the Parish, it seems that cold has never touched this place. The ground feels firm, but soft. I’m lying on a bed of lush overgrown grass, covered from my chest to my feet in a blanket of leaves that keeps me snug. I can taste the remnants of some sweet nectar on my tongue. My hair feels damp and my skin tingles, as if I’ve been freshly bathed. My fingers trace the cuts on my body and come away with sticky warmth. I sniff. Crushed plants. An herbal remedy, applied to my wounds like a salve.
The smile on my lips fades. Where’s Digory?
I sit up too fast. I’m still feeling a little lightheaded and woozy. My leg bumps against the rucksack Valerian gave me. What was it she said when she insisted I take back the ID tags and Digory’s holo?
When you get out of this, you’ll thank me.
Digging into the rucksack, I pull out the holocam and stare hard at it for what seems like forever before hitting the activation button.
The air in front of the device shimmers and the holo of Digory appears, still wearing that cold grin he had when he was addressing Cassius. “Tycho signing off,” he announces. Then he leans in close to the screen, as if hitting an unseen switch, and the window with Cassius’s image disappears.
The moment that happens, Digory slumps back against his chair and lets out a long sigh. His face loses that hard edge, and once again he’s the Digory I’ve always known.
Except now he looks worried. He leans forward, his face practically pressing against the holocam’s lens. “If I don’t make it back today, I want… I need someone to know—Rafé, Cage, Jeptha, all of you—that I never betrayed you. I’ve been on a rogue mission, making the new Prefect believe I’m a mole within the rebellion. I’m trying to gain his confidence, and gain access to Establishment intelligence in the process.”
So Digory never did betray the rebellion. He never betrayed me. Why couldn’t I have had faith in the love we had for each other?
I never deserved him.
The holo of Digory is talking faster now. “I’ve stumbled on something called the Sowing Protocol. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. I think it’ll crush the rebellion if we can’t stop it. I’ll try to learn what I can and report back. But I’ve got the feeling Thorn is on to me.” His face softens. “If I’m right, and my cover’s blown, please do me one last favor and look out for Lucian Spark. He’s… he’s a good guy. And I think he and his brother are in some kind of danger from Thorn. Promise me you’ll take them under your protection, keep them safe.”
The holo goes out of focus for a moment, but it has nothing to do with the device.
“If I don’t see any of you again, it’s been an honor to serve the cause with you.” Digory smiles, but I can see how nervous he is. “I’m going to hide this in my quarters when I’m done. Until then, this is Digory Tycho. Down with the Establishment. Protect your families.”
The image flickers, then fades away, replaced by an endless stream of static.
That’s it. Recording over. I shut it off and stuff it back into the rucksack, even as I place the ID tags around my neck once again.
I was so wrong.
The joints in my knees creak and pop as I haul myself to my feet and take a few steps, my bare soles crunching the leaves beneath them.
I cup my hands to my mouth. “Digory! Where are you?”
Trudging deeper into the lush pockets of pink and purple flowers, I hear a sound up ahead. A gurgling sound.
Water.
With both hands, I part a soft curtain of hanging moss.
And there he is.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding, drunk with relief.
Digory is sitting on the remnants of a small stone bridge, bare-chested, his feet dangling in the water and his long damp hair draped over his shoulders. His eyes are intent on the shimmering brook just below him.