I meet Ania’s gaze briefly, then chew the inside of my lip. “We don’t have to go so quickly if you need some time, Remi. He said we have two days—”
“Do we really, though?” they snap. “That’s just a guess. It’s two days until the labs get their new stores of maz-15. What if it takes them a while to collect it? We have no way to be sure.”
They sit back and draw some vitaz from their stores, then start in on a complicated weave I’ve seen them pull off dozens of times. A little boost, a stopgap for when they’re feeling poorly between treatments. Can’t be used too often, but if ever there were a time . . .
They take a deep breath and continue.
“I appreciate your concern, and I know this isn’t great. We still have a good twentyish hours until go time, though. I’ll sleep all the way back to Kyrkarta, eat well, and sleep more at Davon’s apartment. It’s totally possible the sheer stress of all this will screw my immune system anyway, and I’ll get pneumonia or something for a month again. I can’t just will my body to behave. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, though. And when this is all over, I promise, I’ll take it easy. This is my choice and I’m making it.”
My fingers itch to reach for Remi, to run through their hair, feel the pulse in their neck, brush over their bottom lip . . . but no. I don’t get to want that. Can’t. I’ve closed that door for good.
“Okay,” I say, voice flat. “We go tonight.”
I turn away and slump in my seat, staring out the window.
Sure enough, Remi sleeps for the rest of the ride home, but I must drift in and out too, because the blurred early morning dimness outside is already beginning to break up into patches of shadowy trees and far-distant buildings gleaming in the faint just-rising sun. The approach to Kyrkarta seems to take forever, in the same way I imagine walking to your own execution must. We gather our things in silence and stand at the door, ready to disembark as soon as the train stops. Minutes to go until we set foot back in our home city.
Hours to go until we break into one of the most highly secured facilities in Kyrkarta.
Less than a day until we change the world, or die at the bottom of a very deep hole in the ground, never to be seen again.
I always thought I’d die in a suitably dramatic way.
Twenty-Three
THE TRAIN DOORS SLIDE OPEN, and our plan falls apart almost immediately.
Jaesin hops down onto the platform first, bag slung over his shoulder, and is seized by his right arm before he can take a single step.
“Jaesin Kim, you’re under arrest for the theft of MMC property and the deaths of—”
They should have grabbed his other arm. Jaesin’s a lefty.
He hauls off and slugs the officer in the jaw with an audible crack, then shoves him back into the two officers right behind him. Over Jaesin’s shoulder, I see four more officers coming our way, fighting through the crowd to get to the train. Really? Is our luck this bad?
“Diz?” Jaesin shouts as he throws some lady’s luggage at the pile of officers on the ground.
I slap him on the shoulder as I hop off the train, gesturing for him to follow. And I trust he will. This is my deal. We may both be mundies, but we have our uses. He’s our strength and people skills. It’s my job to know things. People. Locations. Current events. He may have been ready to run off to Jattapore, but Kyrkarta is my city, and I know it inside and out. This is exactly my kind of moment.
I sprint toward a staff-only door that I know holds a staircase to the roof, ducking low to cut between waiting passengers. Most people happily get out of my way, not wanting to get involved, but there’s always one person who just has to be a hero.
A large girl about my age in a flowing skirt drops her bag and darts into my path, looking like she means business. She’s wearing an Aeraz Warrior 3 shirt (only available as a pre-order bonus through GameGo) and has badass blue streaks in her hair. I wince internally. She and I would probably get along famously under other circumstances, but right now she’s in my way, and I am not about to be arrested. Not with so much at stake.
I square off with her and prepare to attempt something ridiculous, but a bright bolt flies over my shoulder and hits the girl square in the face before I can lunge. She drops, out cold, and I leap over her crumpling form with a guilty grimace. If I ever bump into her at the club, I’ll have to apologize. I raise a hand in thanks to Remi or Ania, whoever managed that quick stunner, and push onward. The door to the stairwell has never been locked during my nighttime wanderings, but that could have changed. It’s possible. I put on a last burst of speed and yank on the door handle, fully expecting it to be locked—
—and it flies open so easily, I stumble backward and almost bust my ass.
I risk a quick glance back. Ania catches up first and ducks inside, with Remi next and Jaesin watching their back right behind. All present and accounted for. I yank the door shut before the cops can clear enough of a path to start slinging maz, and push past Ania. This whole dashing-up-the-stairs thing is way too reminiscent of the day of the earthquake and my frantic rush to make sure Jaesin and Remi were okay. (Still mad about that.)
The station is thankfully only three stories high, compared to the nine floors I had to run in our apartment building, but by the time I hit the third landing, shouts of “Halt!” and calls for backup echo up after us, along with pounding boots on the stairs.
We burst out onto the rooftop, the door banging open with a sound the whole neighborhood must hear. The sound of cocking guns follows us out, and my blood goes cold. Apparently we’re done messing with maz and have moved on to guns. Fabulous.
“Now what?” Jaesin asks. He slams the door shut and slumps against it while Ania draws a quick spell to bind it shut.
Remi and I look around helplessly, studying the roof. Pipes, billboards, neon, lots of long, flat nothingness. Last time I was here, maybe three months back, there was a walkway between the roof and the strip mall next door, used mostly by the employees at the station to go grab lunch.
The walkway is in pieces on the street far below, along with half the mall. The earthquakes. Thanks, MMC.
We’re so screwed.
“Do you trust me?” Remi asks in a firm voice.
I turn to them with a questioning glance. “Of course we trust you. But what—”
They point to the opposite side of the roof, to the building on the station’s other side. “Then I need all of you to give me ten seconds, run for the edge of the roof, and jump for that red building next door.”
“What?” Ania says, the blood draining from her face. I don’t blame her. I jump between the roofs of this city all the time, and even I would never attempt that distance.
“Don’t argue!” Remi says, pulling strands of maz between their fingers and weaving furiously. “You said you trusted me!”
As soon as the spell is finished, they slice it into fourths with several quick slashes, and throw one at each of us. The fist-sized deep purple spell crashes into my chest like a tiny burning explosion, followed swiftly by a shove from Remi.
“Go, I said!” Remi shouts, and the four of us turn as one to make a mad dash for the edge. Oh stars, I would never attempt a jump like this, it’s way too far, the angle all wrong, and it could so easily go badly, impressively badly, but then the lip of the roof is there and I coil my muscles for a leap just as gunfire explodes behind us and I jump . . .