whispered, “Two things. Be quieter than you’ve ever been in your life.” Special smile for the boys. “Übersneaky, got it?” They nodded solemnly. “And stay as close as you can to the big man we’re meeting at the gate. His name is Jeremy, and he can make it so the crowd doesn’t see us. But we’ve arranged a little distraction as well. Just ignore it when it happens and follow Jeremy and me out. Got it?” Ruvin’s family nodded again. I hoped that meant they understood. Hard to say how much was sinking in.
You never knew with somebody who’d spent time as a prisoner and was now escaping. Sometimes the moment itself overwhelmed everything else, even the ability to process the instructions they needed to make it successful. I looked over them to Cassandra, gave her a keep an eye on them look.
We crept down the path toward the gate. “Astral,” I whispered. “Go back to the tunnel exit. Don’t get caught.”
We rejoined Vayl at the gate door. He’d hidden the guard’s body. My guess would’ve been inside the trash can. Good call. Laal and Pajo didn’t need to see us handling corpses if we could help it.
Vayl took stock. Tender look for me. Approval toward Cassandra and Jack. Curiosity in Tabitha’s direction. And for the boys, a moment of intensity, like the silence before a shout.
He pulled me aside. Spoke directly into my ear. “We have to get these boys out safely.”
“Of course.”
“Understand me. Whatever else happens, here, or with the mission, we cannot let these boys die.” I stared into his eyes, which had turned the purple of a boxer’s ribs after a bad beating. And I knew something about Laal and Pajo had reminded him sharply of his own murdered sons. Or maybe it was just that he’d finally found a chance to prevent another father from feeling the anguish he’d endured now for over two hundred and fifty years. Didn’t matter to me.
I said, “The boys live no matter what. Of course. There was never another option.” He put both hands to my shoulders like he meant to hug me; then he looked over my head, remembered our circumstances, and dropped his arms. Turning toward the crowd so that he blocked most of us at the gate with both his bulk and power, he murmured, “Now, Bergman.” Motioning us forward, he began to move at a slow but even pace back the way we’d come.
Which was when Bergman popped out from behind the trees and climbed up the back of the bandstand.
He shoved his way to the front of the stage, a camera in each hand, grinning like a lunatic and blowing an enormous bubble from a spare piece of gum he must’ve borrowed from Cole.
The band faded out. Its inattentive audience quickly swung its focus away from itself and to the stage as this new phenomenon began to click off picture after picture. Finally Bergman grabbed a microphone.
“Okay, that was excellent. Now, my guy in Hollywood tells me if this movie’s going to work we’re gonna need all of you to really get into your parts. Okay? And… smile!” CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Iwas genuinely shocked when I froze. Paralysis is not what I do. I think. On my feet. As they move.
Generally at my target. Or away from danger. Or, in this case, toward the exit while I figured out how to rescue my idiot consultant before he got himself killed and Pete demoted me to, oh, I don’t know…
resident flyswatter?
But I was stuck. This was my first clue that Brude had commandeered my limbs. Then he turned me toward the source of what he thought would soon be lurid entertainment. In other words, a bloodbath.
Starring my best friend, who was clicking off shots of the crowd and talking fast about some fantasy film starring Angelina Jolie and Warwick Davies. Dumbass.
Granny May! I yelled, an SOS to my own psyche. I saw her head shoot up from the green beans she’d been snapping into a bowl on her lap. She still sat on the front porch. But she looked less fearful. And I noticed she’d brought some sort of club outside with
You never knew with somebody who’d spent time as a prisoner and was now escaping. Sometimes the moment itself overwhelmed everything else, even the ability to process the instructions they needed to make it successful. I looked over them to Cassandra, gave her a keep an eye on them look.
We crept down the path toward the gate. “Astral,” I whispered. “Go back to the tunnel exit. Don’t get caught.”
We rejoined Vayl at the gate door. He’d hidden the guard’s body. My guess would’ve been inside the trash can. Good call. Laal and Pajo didn’t need to see us handling corpses if we could help it.
Vayl took stock. Tender look for me. Approval toward Cassandra and Jack. Curiosity in Tabitha’s direction. And for the boys, a moment of intensity, like the silence before a shout.
He pulled me aside. Spoke directly into my ear. “We have to get these boys out safely.”
“Of course.”
“Understand me. Whatever else happens, here, or with the mission, we cannot let these boys die.” I stared into his eyes, which had turned the purple of a boxer’s ribs after a bad beating. And I knew something about Laal and Pajo had reminded him sharply of his own murdered sons. Or maybe it was just that he’d finally found a chance to prevent another father from feeling the anguish he’d endured now for over two hundred and fifty years. Didn’t matter to me.
I said, “The boys live no matter what. Of course. There was never another option.” He put both hands to my shoulders like he meant to hug me; then he looked over my head, remembered our circumstances, and dropped his arms. Turning toward the crowd so that he blocked most of us at the gate with both his bulk and power, he murmured, “Now, Bergman.” Motioning us forward, he began to move at a slow but even pace back the way we’d come.
Which was when Bergman popped out from behind the trees and climbed up the back of the bandstand.
He shoved his way to the front of the stage, a camera in each hand, grinning like a lunatic and blowing an enormous bubble from a spare piece of gum he must’ve borrowed from Cole.
The band faded out. Its inattentive audience quickly swung its focus away from itself and to the stage as this new phenomenon began to click off picture after picture. Finally Bergman grabbed a microphone.
“Okay, that was excellent. Now, my guy in Hollywood tells me if this movie’s going to work we’re gonna need all of you to really get into your parts. Okay? And… smile!” CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Iwas genuinely shocked when I froze. Paralysis is not what I do. I think. On my feet. As they move.
Generally at my target. Or away from danger. Or, in this case, toward the exit while I figured out how to rescue my idiot consultant before he got himself killed and Pete demoted me to, oh, I don’t know…
resident flyswatter?
But I was stuck. This was my first clue that Brude had commandeered my limbs. Then he turned me toward the source of what he thought would soon be lurid entertainment. In other words, a bloodbath.
Starring my best friend, who was clicking off shots of the crowd and talking fast about some fantasy film starring Angelina Jolie and Warwick Davies. Dumbass.
Granny May! I yelled, an SOS to my own psyche. I saw her head shoot up from the green beans she’d been snapping into a bowl on her lap. She still sat on the front porch. But she looked less fearful. And I noticed she’d brought some sort of club outside with
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