Burned Away by Kristen Simmons Page A

heard the workers sometimes worked late, but the door, which appeared broken at the lock, was already chained shut. Everyone had gone home.
    Refusing to let the trip be a waste, she opened her satchel and removed her notepad, flipping back the leather cover and a dozen pages of random notes from her first visit here. On the first blank page, she recorded the time and place with a charcoal pencil she’d lined with bite marks. By the time she’d finished her observations of the building itself, she’d sagged against the brick behind her. Her thick coat provided a buffer, but the cold still leached through.
    If she left now, Aunt Charlotte probably wouldn’t have noticed she’d been gone. She’d save herself the interrogation and wouldn’t have to listen to all the reasons why this trip had been a stupid idea.
    â€œHey. What you doing over there?”
    Caris jumped at the voice coming from the street, holding up her notepad to block the light. A man, bundled in a thick coat and knit hat, turned into the alley. Her eyes drew to his hand, where he pointed what looked like a metal stick her direction.
    Her spine zipped straight. Every bit of fear in her body balled in the pit of her stomach.
    This was not the interview she’d been hoping for.
    Without another thought, she lowered her head, turned, and walked quickly the other way.
    â€œStop before I make you stop,” he called.
    Taking that as a cue to run, she sprinted between the rust-stained stone walls, heart pounding in her ears, bag slapping against her side. She glanced over her shoulder, finding not just one man chasing her, but two. Their faces were hidden by shadows, but the weapons in their hands were easy enough to spot.
    With a wince, she spun back, slipping on the frosty ground. Her body spilled forward, heels of her hands striking the concrete first. The bones felt like they’d shattered straight up to her wrists. Her pants ripped at the knees. Swinging forward, her bag smacked against the side of her face. She tried to scramble on, but before she could was hauled to a stand and slammed against the alley wall.
    â€œWait,” she said before the sneering mouth before her could speak. Her breath clouded in front of her face. “Is this Division Two? It is, right? I’m a little lost. See, I’m supposed to start work here tomorrow, and I just wanted to make sure I’m in the right…”
    â€œShut up,” said the man gripping her shoulders. He shoved her against the wall again, but her coat absorbed most of the blow. He couldn’t have been more than a few years her senior but was several inches shorter and had a fresh cut on his upper lip that he dabbed at with his tongue. He lifted his chin and met her gaze.
    â€œShouldn’t have strayed from the pack, little girl,” he said. “They send you out here on purpose? You spying for your little charter?”
    She recognized the word. The Brotherhood was supposed to be a charter—the factory employees who made sure the workers were being treated fairly—but as far as anyone was concerned they were a gang, just like McNulty’s crew. The workers who’d been pressing, they’d claimed to be a charter too. She wasn’t sure which side these men fell on, but clearly they didn’t like the other side.
    â€œHow can I be a spy? There’s no one here to spy on but you two.” Her voice shook with nerves and a disappointment that was impossible to hide.
    â€œMaybe she’s a thief,” said the second man. “Maybe she was trying to break back in.” He ran his knuckles along the side of his jaw. They glowed yellow from the pale streetlight behind them, and her gut tensed at the thought of how much a punch from him would hurt.
    â€œWith my fingernails? I don’t think so. You’d need some bolt cutters at least to get through that chain…” They were staring, and it occurred to her that