“Hey! What’s it got there worth seein’?”
Ol’ Blindfold stopped for a second and turned over his shoulder, but not really looking at Fletcher, like he was thinking about it.
“Demons,” he said.
Then he just walked off.
Fletcher never did get that gun out.
FOUR
Night had fallen over Morningside, and with it came an uneasy sort of quiet without any peace. The kind of quiet that made Wren think of waiting in the clinic – when everyone was just sitting there not talking, and he knew he had to get a shot – and the whole time it felt like nobody was talking because they were all too busy thinking about how much it was going to hurt. The whole city felt like that to him now, like all those people were just out there, waiting. Waiting and thinking about how much it was going to hurt.
When he’d first come, Morningside had seemed so clean and perfect. All clean lines and smooth curves, and room enough for everything, and everything right where it belonged. After just a few days inside the wall, it was hard to remember how broken everything was beyond it. Broken, and dirty, and never enough of anything – except the stuff you didn’t want and too much of that; too much cold, too much hunger, too much fear.
But not here. Not inside. There were wide roads, all smooth without any cracks or holes, and lights all along the sides so you could walk from the governor’s compound to the main gate and back without ever stepping on a shadow if you wanted. And shops all along both sides, where you could find just about anything you wanted. Places to get all kinds of foods, foods Wren had never even been able to imagine before he came here. Stores that only sold beds, with so many inside the first time he’d seen one he asked the owner if the whole city slept there. And the owner had just laughed and laughed and patted him on the head like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. And there were shops with clothes that were brand new that no one else had ever worn, and they’d make to fit you, no matter how small you were for your age.
Even the people, the people seemed like they’d been made with the city, at the same time, by the same hands. All clean and gracious and never touched by anything sad. At least that’s how they’d seemed when he’d first come to Morningside. Now Wren knew how it was, though. He’d gotten a really good look for himself. People were still people, no matter how good they had it. They always brought the broken in with them.
Wren hadn’t been out at night in a few days, and hadn’t been outside the wall in, what was it… almost three months now? Not since the night he’d snuck out through the secret tunnel that ran from the compound to a hidden place outside. The night he’d felt like if he stayed in the compound another minute, his insides would’ve gotten all crushed down, and Wren would never have been able to breathe ever again. The night he’d woken Painter.
Mama had been mad about that; mad about him sneaking out, mad about the gashes he came home with, all along his ribs. Madder than Wren could ever remember seeing her. And North had just shaken his head and said he was disappointed, and that had hurt the worst. But they’d rescued Painter – Wren and Mouse and Able – and then, they’d gone back out and found him and brought him in, and that had made it all worthwhile. Painter was a good friend; kind and generous. Almost like an older brother. A good older brother. Not like the other kind.
And now Wren had to take him heavy news. It’d taken all of Wren’s powers of persuasion, but he’d finally managed to convince his mother to let him leave the compound on his most solemn vow that he’d go only to Mister Sun’s Tea House and come straight back when he was done. Only Able accompanied Wren, to avoid attracting the attention that his usual contingent of guards would’ve drawn; Able had done all the convincing on that one. Well, only Able was right there with him. There were others, others walking ahead and others walking behind – Mouse and Wick and Gamble, always watchful. And Wren was pretty sure that Mama was out there somewhere, keeping her distance and keeping an eye on them. She’d gotten better at hiding herself from him since… since she woke up.
Able had taken him in a meandering path, spiraling out from the governor’s compound and throughout the city. There were fewer people out on the streets, as Able had said. Since the night of the attack. For the most part, those they passed nodded silent greetings or ignored them, and Able was cautious about letting anyone trail them for long.
After about twenty minutes into what was normally a ten-minute walk, they finally reached the Tea House. Wren felt Able’s hand on his shoulder, turning him gently.