Unbroken: Outcast Season: Book Four (20 page)

She was keeping Earth and Fire with her—two powers that could be used destructively in the confines of this building, should it come to a pitched battle. I wasn’t surprised that she’d thought strategically, but she might have made an error with the boy; Alvin seemed mutinous about being sent away, as if this was a personal slight to be dismissed from her presence. The girl, by contrast, seemed proud to have a special mission from the hands of the Lady.

The boy would bear closer watching.

“When do you wish to leave?” Pearl asked me.

“Now,” I said. “If that’s convenient.”

“Of course.” She reached out and took the hand of the boy, and then that of the Weather girl. “Children, my sister will look after your safety. One thing I know about
Cassiel, she does take her responsibilities seriously. She won’t allow any harm to come to you.”

The two looked at me with identical cool expressions of mistrust; Pearl had done an excellent job of poisoning them against anyone else. This wouldn’t be an easy partnership.

“I’ll take care of them,” I agreed. In my heart, I was thinking that I would take far better care of them than she ever had, but it didn’t bear speaking aloud. The children had been twisted to her point of view; they’d never understand how much she’d taken advantage of them. I’d seen the ones she’d used and abandoned, the damage and wreckage she’d left written in small bodies. They hadn’t, and couldn’t, understand. “It’ll take an hour to reach the mine. I’m not certain how long it’ll take to reach the Wardens. It depends on how deep they are, and whether the Djinn have left any surprises for us.”

“I’m sure they have,” Pearl said. “I would.”

I nodded and rose. The girl came to me immediately, held out her hand, and said, “I’m Edie.”

“Edie,” I said, and shook hands. “Cassiel. This is Luis, my partner.”

She nodded, every bit as professional as any Warden I had ever met. The boy rose, too, but he didn’t bother to introduce himself. Edie nudged him, frowning. “And this is Alvin,” she said. “He’s kind of an ass. Don’t mind him.”

Alvin sent her a dark, scorching look. Edie topped him by at least six inches, but it wasn’t that they were dissimilar in age; both seemed to be about nine years old, perhaps close to ten. Edie was developing faster, though Alvin had a stocky weight to him. They didn’t seem to particularly care for each other. It was their mutual devotion to Pearl that had forged them together.

“Where are your families?” I asked them. Both would
have come from Warden parents; that was a common theme for the children that Pearl recruited.

Edie said calmly, “They’re dead. My mother died five years ago. A Djinn killed her. My dad committed suicide.” She sounded as if she were reciting something learned in class, not something that had affected her personally. “Alvin’s mom had cancer. His dad got killed fighting another Warden. The Lady’s our mother now. We don’t need any other family.”

I wondered if any of that was true. When Iz had been in training with Pearl, they’d convinced her that I’d killed her uncle, simply to ensure that all her ties to the mortal world were cut.… These children might have living mothers and fathers, or the losses might be real.

Or Pearl might have arranged for the deaths and then lied about how they occurred. Anything was possible with her.

But it wasn’t the time to sort out the lies, not now. There were six Wardens trapped, and the world’s clock was ticking down.

“Too bad,” I told the children. “You’re stuck with us as family now. We stick together. We work together. We defend each other, always. If we don’t watch out for each other, we’ll die on this mission. Do you understand? So think of us as… your aunt and uncle, if not your parents.”

Edie nodded easily. Alvin just shrugged. I wasn’t sure whether he’d be an asset or a liability; Alvin himself probably didn’t know yet, either.

But we had our team.

BRENNAN PROVIDED US
with a large silver van, one with enough seating to accommodate the rescued Wardens, plus Luis and the two children; I would ride the motorcycle, both as an outrider and scout, and to provide more space in the main vehicle. He came up with supplies for us as well—sealed boxes of water with straws, energy bars, medical supplies, ropes, carabiners, lightweight tools, and other necessities. “Radios won’t work,” he told us as we inventoried the supplies. “If you need reinforcements, we probably wouldn’t be able to reach you anyway. Get as many as you can out of there and bring them in, but watch yourselves. The Djinn are busy, but they’re never too busy to come looking for trouble.” He was distracted by another Warden, who arrived with a sheaf of papers in a trembling hand and disaster written on his face. “Dammit. Get going while you still can. There’s extra gas in the back of the van, in case the pumps are out. Good luck.”

That was it. Brennan had no time or energy for fond farewells, which left Isabel and Esmeralda. Es,
predictably, just shrugged off our good-bye and went back to playing a handheld game that someone had left abandoned. We figured little in her universe.

Isabel was angry.

“You’re taking them,” she said, looking at Alvin and Edie, who were packing up the supplies into sturdy canvas bags. “Not me.”

“
Mija
, we need a Weather Warden to make sure we can breathe on the way down,” Luis said. “I probably don’t have enough power to keep a tunnel open the whole way. Too easy for us to get trapped without an air supply, otherwise.”

“But I can help you!”

“How?” He stared at her kindly, but steadily, until she looked down. “Isabel, I love you, and I trust you, but you’re still learning fine control of what you do. You’re powerful, no question of that, but Fire’s a tricky thing.”

“I’m better at it than you!”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed. “You definitely are. But that doesn’t mean you’re as good as you need to be, right?” Isabel took a breath, but didn’t try to argue the point. “Fire isn’t as useful where we’re going. Yeah, you’re a strong Earth Warden, I’ll grant you that, but so am I. So is Cassiel. We needed to choose someone who has something we lack, and that’s Weather.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s strategy, bug.” He tapped her gently on the nose and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, but you’re better off here for now. Brennan will make sure you stay safe, and if you want to help out, you can. Just be careful, okay? And do not leave the building. No matter what Es tells you.”

“Sitting right here,” Esmeralda said without looking up from the beeps and boops of her game. “I’m not looking to leave right now. But if I decide to, you’ve got nothing to say about it, Warden.”

“I
know that,” Luis said. “But if you take my niece with you when you do decide to leave, I’ll find you, and we’ll be having a nice, long talk about it.”

“Wow, I can’t wait to see how that turns out.” She raised and lowered her shoulders in a fine, uncaring shrug. “See ya. Or not. Depends on if you die.”

Her callousness wasn’t unexpected, but it did have one side benefit; Isabel threw her arms around her uncle’s neck and hugged him quickly. Then she turned to me and did the same. “Don’t die,” she said. “I’ll hate you forever if you do. Come back safe.”

I kissed her cheek and, like Luis, tapped her gently on the nose. “Promise,” I said. “Get some rest.” She looked tired and pale. She nodded and settled down in a heap on the floor. Someone—not Esmeralda, certainly—had fetched her pillows and blankets.

I didn’t want to leave her, but I didn’t know what else to say. Neither, from the look on her face, did Isabel; we’d left many things unresolved, but that was the nature of human life, I supposed.

As always, I avoided the elevators; there was grumbling from the two children, but I swung one of the two canvas bags on my shoulder, stiff-armed the door, and began the long descent without soliciting their opinions. Luis didn’t bother to offer any; he just picked up the other bag and followed, leaving the children to decide on their own. When I glanced back from two floors below, I found them trudging down in our wake. They didn’t look happy, but I hadn’t expected that.

“Hey!” Alvin called down, as I rounded the corner for the twelfth floor. “What do you have against elevators anyway?”

“Claustrophobia,” Luis said.

“It’s not claustrophobia. I simply don’t like leaving myself at the mercy of machines.”

“Claustrophobia,”
Luis said again. “Cass, this might be an issue when it comes to tunnels; you know that.”

“I’ll be fine,” I said. In truth, I hadn’t thought of it, but he might possibly be right about his concerns. I wasn’t comfortable in confined spaces, overall. “We have other things to worry about.” Such as the children clattering after us on the stairs, one of whom had the power to absorb any attack we might throw at him. The only vulnerability a Void wielder might have would be physical, and when he worked with a partner—such as the Weather girl—she could keep us busy enough to make that type of assault problematic.

I was already thinking about how to defeat them in a fight. It probably did not bode well for our cooperative efforts.

At the bottom of the stairs, the door took us out into a large but deserted lobby area. It seemed undisturbed, but there were already signs of neglect; the polished marble floor was scuffed in places, and the large glass doors were smudged with handprints that no one had bothered to clean. It wouldn’t take long for this place to show wear, I thought; if the Wardens or the human race survived the week, someone would need to take charge of sanitation and cleaning, unglamorous as that was.

It wasn’t a concern I’d likely have to worry about. That seemed oddly cheering.

Outside, one of the Wardens had parked the promised silver van, and someone—almost certainly an Earth Warden—had arranged for the move of my Victory down from the roof. It leaned on its kickstand behind the van. I took a moment to take Rashid’s sealed bottle out of my jacket, where I’d been keeping it safe, and rolled it into the blue jeans that were still in the backpack. It would remain better protected there, for now. I made sure the canvas bag fit securely, with both arms through the straps
and the bag riding comfortably on my back. The weight was not as bad as I’d expected, balanced so, and I mounted the Victory with a sense of relief. Somehow, having the potential of movement, of escape, always made me feel less helpless, even if it was only an illusion.

Luis slammed the passenger doors and stood there with one foot up in the driver’s side, looking at me. “You ready?” he asked. I nodded and started up the motorcycle. He held the stare for a few seconds longer, then smiled and kissed his fingers at me.

I couldn’t help but smile in return. It was a foolish little gesture, but it warmed me.

Then he was in the truck, and we were rolling down the slight hill, away from the building.

Not surprisingly, it was cloudy; the day was chilly, but not cold. Not yet. It would be bone cold in the wind, but Brennan had helpfully thrown in an extra coat—too large for me, but the warmth would be most welcome. I accelerated as we hit the street, the freeway dead ahead.

We wouldn’t be taking it.

The road out of Portland was clogged solid with cars, vans, trucks—anything with wheels that would roll had fled in the initial panic, and many had run dry of gas on the road. There wasn’t enough equipment, time, or energy now to deal with removing the blockage; instead, the police had simply blocked off the freeway itself. I veered right instead, taking a side road, and checked the aetheric for guidance. The van eased in behind me, a silver ghost moving almost silently through the gray day. There were still vehicles on the road, but most people seemed to be staying inside, glued to whatever news agencies still broadcasted. Few wanted to leave the illusion of safety for whatever might be available elsewhere, until the illusion collapsed.

And then, of course, it would be too late, just as it had
been for so many in Portland and in Kansas and Missouri. Not everyone was dead there, it seemed, but those who were trapped were—according to the scattered news reports—rapidly devolving into chaos. It was spreading fast.

The road I located was a small, two-lane blacktop, but it was clear of any traffic, and I opened the throttle and flew. Misty rain began, but the jacket kept me warm and relatively dry. Behind me, the van turned on its lights. We were back in the tall, silent trees, and although the glow of Seattle was behind us, what lay in front seemed dark by contrast.

Wilderness, more dangerous than ever.