Red Queen(92)

I feel very calm when I slide out in front of the steps, my sparking hand behind my back. I expect to feel bullets at any minute, but the pain never comes. They won’t shoot me, not until I give them a good reason.

“Is there some problem, Sentinels?” I sneer, quirking an eyebrow like I’ve seen Evangeline do a hundred times. Slowly, I take a step up, bringing the pair of them into view. They stand side by side, fingers itching on twin triggers. “I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t point your guns at me.”

Pig-Eyes glares at me outright, but it does nothing to faze me. You are a lady. Act like it. Act for your life. “Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, he’s coming along. One of the prisoners has a mouth on her. She needed some extra attention.” The lie comes so easily. Practice really does make perfect.

Grinning, Pig-Eyes lowers his gun a bit. “The scarred bitch? Had to show her the back of my hand myself.” He chuckles. I laugh with him and dream about what lightning could do to his fleshy, pale eyes.

As I move closer, the skin healer puts one hand on the metal rail, blocking my way. I do the same. It feels cold in my hand, and solid. Easy does it, I tell myself, pushing just enough energy into my sparks. Not enough to burn, not enough to scar, but enough to take care of them both. It’s like threading a needle, and for once, I’m the sewing expert.

Above me, the healer doesn’t laugh with his friend. His eyes are bright silver and, with the mask and fiery cloak, he looks like a demon from a nightmare.

“What’s behind your back?” he hisses through the mask.

I shrug, allowing myself one more step. “Nothing, Sentinel Skonos.”

The next words are ragged. “You lie.”

We react in the same second, blasting into action. The bullet hits me in the stomach, but my lightning blazes up the metal rail, through his skin and into the healer’s brain. Pig-Eyes shouts, firing his own gun. The bullet digs into the wall, missing me by inches. But I don’t miss him, lashing with the ball of sparks behind my back. They slide past me, both unconscious, their muscles twitching with shocks.

And then I’m falling.

I briefly wonder if the stone floor will smash my skull. I suppose that’s easier than bleeding to death. Instead, long arms catch me.

“Mare, you’ll be fine,” Kilorn whispers. His hand covers my stomach, trying to stop the bleeding. His eyes are green as grass. They stand out in a world fading to darkness. “It’s nothing at all.”

“Put those on,” Julian snaps to the others. Farley and Walsh rush past me to pull on the fire-red cloaks and masks. “You too!”

He yanks Kilorn off me, almost throwing him across the room in his haste.

“Julian—,” I choke out, trying to grab him. I must thank him.

But he’s beyond my reach, kneeling over the healer. He rips open the Sentinel’s eyelids and sings, ordering him to wake up. The next thing I know, the healer stares down at me, his hands on my wound. It only takes a second before the world shifts back to normal. In the corner, Kilorn breathes a sigh of relief and pulls a cloak over his head.

“Her as well.” I point to Farley. Julian nods and directs the healer over to her. With an audible pop, her shoulder snaps back into place.

“Much obliged,” she says, pulling the mask over her face.

Walsh stands over us all, her mask forgotten in her hand. She stares at the fallen Sentinels, jaw agape. “Are they dead?” she asks, whispering like a frightened child.

Julian looks up from Pig-Eyes, finished singing to him. “Hardly. This lot will be awake in a few hours, and if you’re lucky, no one will know you’re gone until then.”

“I can work with a few hours.” Farley smacks at Walsh, snapping her back to reality. “Get your head on straight, girl, we’ve got a lot of running to do tonight.”

It doesn’t take long to slip them through the last few passages. Even so, my fear grows with each passing heartbeat, until we find ourselves in the middle of Cal’s garage. The slack-jawed Lucas tears a hole in the metal door like he’s ripping paper, revealing the night beyond.

Walsh hugs me, taking me by surprise. “I don’t know how,” she mutters, “but I hope you become queen one day. Imagine what you could do then? The Red queen.”

I have to smile at the impossible thought. “Go, before your nonsense rubs off on me.”

Farley isn’t one for hugs, but she does pat me on the shoulder. “We’ll meet again, and soon.”

“Not like this, I hope.”

Her face splits into a rare, toothy smile. Despite the scar, I realize she’s very pretty.