Jas glares at him.
Safe as houses. Still, better to remain alert.
“Oscar?” I beckon the Navigator. The duo stare at him when he materializes. “Keep her on standby until you hear from me.”
He nods. “My lady.”
“You,” Jas says to Ari. “Blade-boy. No knives from here on.”
Ari’s brow creases. His gaze meets mine, and I pull my best pleading face. He presses his lips flat and removes the knives from somewhere behind his back. And then another one appears from his waistband. And yet two more are unveiled from just behind his shoulders. I stare at him.
“And the one around your ankle,” Jas says.
Ari’s eyes flash so bright and hot now, I can’t believe Jas isn’t on fire.
After taking Ari’s last knife, Jas turns to me. “And you can leave the umbrella behind. Everything will be waiting right here for you when you’re done.”
“This?” I hold my brolly up. “But it’s just my brolly.” I stare at him wide-eyed. “It’s— It’s the only accessory I have.” The corners of my mouth turn down.
Jas narrows his eyes.
“It’s only a brolly.” Charlie shrugs and waves his hand, and Jas relents with a curt nod. We’re finally good to carry on.
I turn to Charlie. “Erm, you said Bia sent you. Is Bia a scientist?”
“Nope,” Charlie says. “Bia’s . . . just Bia. She’s the boss!”
“Of what?”
Charlie opens his mouth but closes it again. “Of us, I guess.” He chuckles, deflecting the question.
I exchange looks with Ari. Please, God, let them not be some kind of cult. . . .
Charlie pauses now, turning to me with a shy smile, his eyes warm and welcoming. “Want the scenic route through the shop—much shorter, too—or are you after peace and quiet?”
A shop?
“The quiet route,” Ari says, at exactly the same time that I say:
“Anything that might take my mind off the attack for a few minutes. Definitely the shop.”
Charlie looks hesitantly at Ari for a second, then nods at me. “Scenic route it is!”
We’re led down a dimly lit corridor and through several sealed doors. Just how big is this place? At last, we pause by a guarded door. Two heavily armed men move aside, and we’re granted access. We all step into an endless room. My mouth falls open. What the— I stare, taking it all in. It’s the last thing I expected.
“This here’s the Trading Post,” Charlie shouts over his shoulder as he walks through the expansive place.
My gaze darts from one sight to another.
Ari twists his neck in every direction and takes the Bliss-Pod from me. He rubs his jaw. “Erm, maybe be careful here? There are too many people around.” He points to my ribs, and I nod.
It’s like the London markets. Only so much more . . . alive.
Each colorful stall bears a huge banner stating its name in fancy lettering. Ropes of ancient-style light bulbs connect the stalls, and neon signs decorate the walls of the enormous hall. Voices ring out all around us. Owners and customers alike barter, laugh, and argue. Salespeople, dressed in bright and bold fashions, whiz by on hover boards. All manner of merchandise hangs off their bodies as they dart here and there. I wrap my arms around myself; Ari’s right, I’m definitely too sore for someone to bump into me.
“I don’t get it,” I say to Charlie. “Why’s this place hidden? People would love it.”
“The trading here doesn’t go by any laws,” he replies. His voice drops low. “And where anything goes, just about everything goes on. You wanna stay alert.”
A bald girl skips out of a nearby stall, the Royal Infirmary, thrusting something into Charlie’s hand. He stuffs the tiny bundles away with haste. “Top stuff,” whispers the girl. “Bia will love it. Only come in this morning.”
I crane my neck. My eyes widen at the Deli. Every shrub Britons are warned about is openly on display. Customers laugh and chat as they try the products—as if they’re buying sweets! There’s a woman slumped against the wall in front of us. Shrub juice dribbles from her mouth. She adjusts the virtual glasses she’s wearing and sighs as she escapes her reality. Charlie tells off a boy who’s about to rummage through her coat pockets as we move on.
“This is Bia’s?” I ask him. “The Trading Post?”
He laughs. “We wish! Nope, we just rent the place beneath it.”
Bloody hell, the place goes even lower? What on earth do Bia and her people do?
We move on past the Flea Market. Delicate ancient china and jewelry dominate the goods. Most items are either chipped or cracked, but they’re priceless. The Royal Preservation Society would implode if they found out they were on sale to the public!
Jas gestures to us all to pause as he stops at Hamley’s. It’s full of every weapon imaginable—both Old World and very modern. He takes an interest in the tiniest grenades I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many. But these look like pearly marbles.
“Half price on all treatments today, my lovely.” A voice whispers in my ear and makes my heart stall in my chest. “Come take a quick gander.”
Before I know what’s happening, someone grabs my arm and we’re moving. I freeze. I think I stop breathing. It feels as if I’m back in the engine room with the Anthropoid. In seconds we’re inside a tent called the Salon. Surgical-looking equipment dots the shelves and almost everything is a cold milky color. I finally manage to pull my arm back, glancing up at a tall, lean man twisting the ends of his lengthy mustache as he peers down at me.
My arm automatically goes up, and I aim the brolly at him.
I clench my teeth and try to slow my breathing. “You can’t just drag someone to your bloody stall.”
“Aw, come on, me duck.” The owner pulls the corners of his mouth down and his mustache lowers. “Delicate wrists like yours? They were meant for our newest epidermal tattoos. And you’ve my personal guarantee—
absolutely no pain during the implanting. You’re a reader, aren’t ya? Clever lass, I can tell. I’ve just the thing for ya. A whole library of books inside those delectable slender wrists. Tell ya what, just for you, I’ll throw in an art museum on your other—”
He moves toward me. I go blank. I don’t want him to touch me.
My grip tightens on the brolly, and I press down on the button for the immobilizing spray.
Mist spritzes through the air as the spray leaves the tip of the brolly, surrounds his face, and settles into his eyes.
The stallholder inhales, blinking it away. He hisses and swears, and his hands dart to his eyes, pressing his palms into his sockets. “Ya little witch!”
I step away from him. “Don’t you dare ever drag anyone like that again.” I rub my arm where he grabbed me, a particularly sore spot since the beast kicked me there.
He grabs at the air, his eyes now red and watery. “Where are ya?” Instruments fly as he flails and knocks into things.
My heart pounds against my rib cage and thumps away inside my ears. How long did Theo say the effects would last? I duck and brush past him before he has time to grab me; my ribs ache. As I bolt out of the tent, I almost run into Ari, his eyes wide.