Chapter 18
Another sizzle of energy crackles across my skin as I burst out of the room.
The storm is drawing closer, and I need a place to touch it.
I hear Rook call after me, but I don’t want him to notice anything suspicious.
He’d turn me in to the Extinguishers in a flash.
I skirt through the halls, keeping my pace measured just in case.
As soon as I spot a swirl of clouds through a window, my decision is made.
I drop my bag behind a statue to conceal it, planning to retrieve it later. Then I button up my coat, jog to the door near the front . . . and make my way outside.
With my collar up and head down, I brace against the wind. The streets have emptied, save a few brave—or possibly naive—souls. The canals are closed due to the high winds, but it’s better to take the tunnels regardless. The train is faster, and I’m too obvious out here. Too exposed.
I take a deep breath and veer right, heading for the nearest subway entrance. Even down here, hundreds of security cameras are mounted everywhere, so I pull up my hood and shrink into its shadows.
The city maintains a vast network of industrial-size pumps to keep the tunnels dry and free from the water that surrounds us. There isn’t enough room for the Hollows to live aboveground, so this ensures they have somewhere to go.
As I scramble down the stairs, I enter the crush, immediately feeling confined. A glance to my right shows a wall lined with stands selling various scavenged items, along with moonshine and other provisions.
Bright caged lights set in the walls cast everything into harsh shadows, and flickering screens mounted to the corners play The Shield’s messages on a loop, reminding everyone of our duties and obligations to the city.
I check my phone, confirming I still have several hours before curfew hits—more than enough time to make it back.
I push through the turnstile and then wait on the platform, where I find a mixture of cogs and Hollows.
I also spot the occasional Society member, including some kids from Amery, who I assume must all be headed to Sogno.
Ducking my head, I move away, hoping they won’t spot me.
It doesn’t take long before I hear rumbling in the distance.
The effect of the gathering storm is less pronounced underground, but more tingling ripples over my skin, forcing me to rub the back of my neck and then my hands.
A hot spark erupts at my nape, and I spin around. It almost feels like I’m being watched.
I shake off the sensation as the train comes barreling toward us and hisses to a stop.
I clamor in with the masses, finding a corner to stand in. Then fold my arms and try to make myself inconspicuous despite the itching in my fingers.
But I still can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me.
I chalk it up to anxiety and the gathering energy that always makes me a little anxious when I’ve gone too long without absorbing a hit of Spark.
We careen through the Hollows’ underground city, past markets and squares, where hundreds of people make their homes. I spot a scavenger swap, where tables are piled high with clothing and various bits of kitchen equipment and decor.
The train empties the closer we get to the end of the line, which finishes in the factory district, where House Asale maintains control. It turns out to be the busiest station of all, suggesting a shift must have just ended. I slip out among the scramble of bodies, thankful for their cover.
When I’m free, I pound up the stairs, racing against the storm. If it hasn’t already started, it’s only a matter of minutes, and I don’t want to miss it.
Hot spots flash across the sky in splashes of ultraviolet light, vibrating in my bones as I scurry along the train platform and down the stairs at the end. With my arms folded and my head down, I walk quickly, winding past warehouses and factories.
Two massive Storm Towers stand in the distance.
If I squint, I imagine I can see the Breakers staggered on their various platforms. What I can see are the glowing purple Spark wands they each hold in a hand.
About two feet long and an inch in diameter, the wands are made of shatterproof glass and filled with a core of pure galvanic energy that attracts bursts of Spark.
A special rubberized handle at one end helps tamp down the effects of flowing electricity, helping to protect the Breakers from being blitzed.
I head for a tear in the chain-link fence, where the terrain has made it impossible to place a tower, before slipping through.
We accidentally discovered this spot a few years ago when Knox and his friends got it into their heads to explore the Wastes. Those flat, stretching miles have always held a sort of tepid fascination for all of us.
I also think Knox wanted to show off.
Thus, Knox, Sal, and Jackson dragged me and a few others along with the theory that we were more protected in a group.
It didn’t take long to find the nearly invisible break in the metal, almost as if someone had come before us. It was a million-to-one discovery that’s proven useful to me more than once.
That night, we didn’t make it to the Wastes.
The ruined portion of Old Manhattan beyond was so dark that a few people got freaked out and wouldn’t stop crying. So we aborted the mission and slunk back home.
I never forgot about it, though, and so I came back alone a few weeks later to uncover what became a refuge.
Another flash follows me past a bombed-out building, crumbling from neglect.
That same wary prickle I felt earlier touches the back of my neck, and I stop, peering over my shoulder to find nothing but shadows.
Bending down, I retrieve the knife tucked in my boot, gripping it in my hand, just in case.
I refused to kill that man for the sake of the initiation, but I have zero hesitation about defending myself.
Keeping one ear peeled for anything unusual, I pick my way over rocks and debris, a few stacks of bricks where buildings once stood.
My destination is a towering wall of massive flat rocks piled about a hundred feet up.
From my reading about the Wastes, I’ve learned these were left behind during the floods that wiped out the people of the Warming Age.
Inhaling a deep breath, I pick up my pace, losing myself in their tall shadows.
I stick close to the rocks as I make my way to the tunnel I know leads to the other side.
When I spot it, I exhale the breath trapped in my chest and head down the path. I’m sure it’s man-made. It’s too straight to be natural. I often think about who might have carved this and wonder if they were in a similar situation to mine.
I emerge on the other side, and from here, it feels like I’m the only person in the world. The city sits behind me, shielded by the rock at my back.
The wall curves gently to my left and right, spreading out in a subtle arch, almost like an embrace. In the center sits a single large rock, a few feet high, and I scramble onto it, staring into the darkness.
The clouds obscure everything, including the moon, making the surrounding details hard to parse out.
In the distance, hot spots flash, illuminating the world around me with temporary bursts of light.
For some reason, I’m reminded of Rook, and for the first time, I really consider the sprawling world stretching into the distance.
How far away did he live? Did he cross these miles alone? Was he scared? Does he miss his home? Everything I’ve ever learned about Solitudes suggests that whatever place he left was a wretched half-life, but maybe he has people who love him and he was forced to leave them behind.
A small crash overhead tells me the storm is moving closer, and I tip my face up, watching the sky. My limbs tremble as I stand, arms spread and feet wide, bracing myself against the wind.
Another crackle sends a shiver across my scalp, and I call to the Spark, willing it to find me. It always does when I give it the chance. It’s like it knows me and seeks me out. It seems silly to say out loud, but I can’t shake the sensation that it understands who I am.
Another brilliant flash bursts across the horizon, an explosion lighting up the sky. The Spark coalesces, slamming into my chest. Instantly, a plasma arc swells, encasing me inside its thin, transparent walls as bolts of energy sizzle against my skin.
Pain.
It rips into me, chewing through my lungs and heart and brain, forcing me to my knees, and I shudder at the onslaught. At the all-consuming, drowning need. I quake in a sort of stupor as it rolls through my limbs and spreads to my fingers and toes.
My hands and knees strike rock, fingers digging into stone as I cling to the shreds of myself. The hairs on my arms rise as I tear apart, my lungs expanding, contracting, filling with lead.
Seconds pass. Minutes. Entire lifetimes, maybe.
I lose myself in the moment, tumbling through time and space. Tiny flickers flash in the corners of my vision as Spark buzzes down my limbs and dances along my spine. Static crackles in the air, snapping in my ears.
I feel my hair lifting, swirling around me like my own personal whirlwind.
I want to scream. I want to cry. But I also want to sing.
Then it ends, the plasma arc winking out.
I stare at the ground, panting as the pain morphs into euphoria, like I’ve been dipped into a hot bath after coming in from the cold.
Slowly, I open my eyes and sit back on my heels to study my hands, flipping them back and forth to watch purple sparks dance over my skin.
Here in the darkness, I’m like a beacon, reflecting the power of my world.
My mind bends in on itself, and for a moment, everything turns to dust. I shake my head, waiting for the empty spaces in my brain to fill. I know this is wrong. I feel it in the way my thoughts warp and twist, suggesting a mind teetering on the edge of control.
The air around me pulses like a beating heart, and I hum to the resonance that’s become my own personal melody. It’s always strongest when I’m out here, away from the noise and bustle of the city. I roll my neck and twist my head back and forth as I shake my arms and hands.
Slowly, I look around, inhaling deep breaths as the wind tosses my hair and clothing. I almost feel like I could flap my arms and take off into the sky.
And then . . . movement at the base of the rocks catches my eye.
A shadow melting into darker shadows.
I blink and blink again, then it’s gone.
The air in my chest twists, grows claws.
I’m almost positive someone was just standing there.