the way out of the covers, and grab the journal from under our bed.
Phee’s by my side before I can even crack open the door.
9 PHEE
So I’m not sure when Sky decided to turn all daredevil on me, but I’m not going to pretend I like it. Breaking out of our room during lockdown feels stupid, half-baked. What if we get caught? What happens then? Of course I want to read that journal as much as she does, but there’re other ways.
I don’t tell her any of this, though. I’m not going to stay behind—it just doesn’t make any sense. That’s not the way we work. In fact, if anything, she’s usually the one trailing me.
We creep into the hall, and I reach for one of the firecups attached to the walls, but Sky grabs my hand and shakes her head. She keeps up with the secret sister sign language, points to both of us and then down the hall. Then she starts signing way too quick, and I can’t catch anything else. Enough of this . I throw up my hands. Then I raise my index finger. Hold up a second .
I duck back into the room for one of our torches. At least one of us is going to be prepared. I pause for a second and think about my gun, which I haven’t really carried since Mom gave it to me. Talk about being prepared.
No, stupid idea, Phee. It’s not necessary.
But a part of me, one I’m not so proud of, begs and pleads to grab it. You’re the one who’s supposed to be badass , my little instigator taunts me . Not Sky .
I honestly can’t spare a minute for this Who am I really? crisis. Since I don’t have the time to debate, I just listen, and dig the gun out from under our mattress. I stick it in the right pocket of my sweats and put the bullets in the left.
There . Things feel right again. I head out the door.
“No, leave the torch. We’ll feel our way up the internal stairs,” Sky whispers when I get back. “We need to stay in the shadows. Follow me.”
I ignore this idea and keep the unlighted torch, and follow her down the hall of the Carlyle.
It must be almost midnight. I’m so jumpy I’m starting to see and hear things, whorelords climbing out of the shadows, whispers in the walls. Then I’m sure I hear two guards talking quietly at the opposite end of the hallway. I grab Sky’s hand and we flatten ourselves against the wallpaper, like we can push ourselves through it. We watch the pair of whorelords cross our hall and head towards the lower-numbered rooms. After they disappear, we scramble to the stairway door, open it, and duck behind it. I open it again to light my torch with a nearby firecup, then rejoin Sky on the other side.
“This way, we can see where we’re going,” I say.
“Yeah, and they can see us.” Sky shakes her head. “I told you to leave it and just follow me. We could have made a fire on the roof.”
“With what? You’ll thank me later.”
She just shakes her head again and begins climbing on all fours up the few flights of stairs. “Stay down,” she cuts at me. “There’re lords roaming every floor. They see that flame, we’re finished.”
“Well, we trip on the stairs and we’re finished.”
“Phee,” she huffs. “No one insisted you come along.”
Really. Would Sky have actually gone without me? So I just say, “Get real.”
We continue to climb in silence, then finally reach the rooftop door. It’s bolted and locked with about four monster chains, but the chains are loose, so we manage to push the door open enough to wiggle through. Sky goes first, and then I pass her the torch and slide through behind her, into the open air of the roof deck.
We run across the empty lounge, from couch to beat-up couch, towards a long rectangular shape in the far corner of the space. It’s bordered with rusted stools on one side, and we crawl into its belly. Half-empty bottles and broken glass are everywhere. I read the labels: JIM BEAM . JACK DANIELS . JOSE CUERVO . A bunch of other guys.
Sky nudges the glass away with her foot, and we settle down
Phee’s by my side before I can even crack open the door.
9 PHEE
So I’m not sure when Sky decided to turn all daredevil on me, but I’m not going to pretend I like it. Breaking out of our room during lockdown feels stupid, half-baked. What if we get caught? What happens then? Of course I want to read that journal as much as she does, but there’re other ways.
I don’t tell her any of this, though. I’m not going to stay behind—it just doesn’t make any sense. That’s not the way we work. In fact, if anything, she’s usually the one trailing me.
We creep into the hall, and I reach for one of the firecups attached to the walls, but Sky grabs my hand and shakes her head. She keeps up with the secret sister sign language, points to both of us and then down the hall. Then she starts signing way too quick, and I can’t catch anything else. Enough of this . I throw up my hands. Then I raise my index finger. Hold up a second .
I duck back into the room for one of our torches. At least one of us is going to be prepared. I pause for a second and think about my gun, which I haven’t really carried since Mom gave it to me. Talk about being prepared.
No, stupid idea, Phee. It’s not necessary.
But a part of me, one I’m not so proud of, begs and pleads to grab it. You’re the one who’s supposed to be badass , my little instigator taunts me . Not Sky .
I honestly can’t spare a minute for this Who am I really? crisis. Since I don’t have the time to debate, I just listen, and dig the gun out from under our mattress. I stick it in the right pocket of my sweats and put the bullets in the left.
There . Things feel right again. I head out the door.
“No, leave the torch. We’ll feel our way up the internal stairs,” Sky whispers when I get back. “We need to stay in the shadows. Follow me.”
I ignore this idea and keep the unlighted torch, and follow her down the hall of the Carlyle.
It must be almost midnight. I’m so jumpy I’m starting to see and hear things, whorelords climbing out of the shadows, whispers in the walls. Then I’m sure I hear two guards talking quietly at the opposite end of the hallway. I grab Sky’s hand and we flatten ourselves against the wallpaper, like we can push ourselves through it. We watch the pair of whorelords cross our hall and head towards the lower-numbered rooms. After they disappear, we scramble to the stairway door, open it, and duck behind it. I open it again to light my torch with a nearby firecup, then rejoin Sky on the other side.
“This way, we can see where we’re going,” I say.
“Yeah, and they can see us.” Sky shakes her head. “I told you to leave it and just follow me. We could have made a fire on the roof.”
“With what? You’ll thank me later.”
She just shakes her head again and begins climbing on all fours up the few flights of stairs. “Stay down,” she cuts at me. “There’re lords roaming every floor. They see that flame, we’re finished.”
“Well, we trip on the stairs and we’re finished.”
“Phee,” she huffs. “No one insisted you come along.”
Really. Would Sky have actually gone without me? So I just say, “Get real.”
We continue to climb in silence, then finally reach the rooftop door. It’s bolted and locked with about four monster chains, but the chains are loose, so we manage to push the door open enough to wiggle through. Sky goes first, and then I pass her the torch and slide through behind her, into the open air of the roof deck.
We run across the empty lounge, from couch to beat-up couch, towards a long rectangular shape in the far corner of the space. It’s bordered with rusted stools on one side, and we crawl into its belly. Half-empty bottles and broken glass are everywhere. I read the labels: JIM BEAM . JACK DANIELS . JOSE CUERVO . A bunch of other guys.
Sky nudges the glass away with her foot, and we settle down
Similar Books
