Chapter 37 #2
"I'm pacing in my mind. It's a less annoying form of anxiety."
It's like the blind leading the blind between the two of us, both natural worriers. As if summoned, Leo pops in—packed, and ready to go—looking like a ray of sunshine.
"Ladies, are we ready?" he asks, stretching like he just woke up from a peaceful nap.
"As ready as we'll ever be," I admit. I notice he's toting two canteens. "What's this about? It looks weird."
He purses his lips. "I figure it's already going to look weird—me gallivanting down the hall with a full travel pack, two canteens won't look that much more suspicious," he grimaces, "Also, after an unfortunate incident with Danu, he will be traveling in a marked container.
" He gestures to the canteen on his left hip, which I now see has a "D" scratched across the face of it.
I can't help the snort that comes out of my mouth.
"You drank your sprite, didn't you?"
"That is one way to put it, yes. He has quite the temper when he wants. Also, he has a name now! Don't call him sprite," he covers the canteen like you would a small child's ears. "We don't need any... situations on the trip," he whisper-scolds us.
"Right, right. Danu. Apologies," I muse.
I've been meaning to ask Leo how things have been going with the little guy, and if he'd noticed any new magic development, but I figure I'll wait. We have a long, hopefully boring journey, and it'll be good to have a distraction until we meet up with Willow and Linden.
A knock sounds at the door.
Deacon strolls in, a pack that doesn't look full enough strapped to his back.
"Hello, friends. Everyone ready to break a bunch of laws and become fugitives?" he grins at us.
Leo laughs, but Farra doesn't respond, so I go over to her.
"You're allowed to change your mind. It's not too late," I offer.
She shakes her head.
"I just want to get this part over with, and get on the road," I give her hand a squeeze in agreement.
Berkley and Tarius are meeting us at the loading bays out front. Leo and Farra are going to steal us enough food for the journey, while Deacon and I go snag a few extra weapons, just in case things don't go well.
"Everyone ready? Take a second to go over your packs one more time, please," I suggest.
"Mae, we're ready. Let's do this," Deacon says, giving me an encouraging look.
It's just after dinner. Everyone will be going back to their dorms or heading out somewhere, so the halls will still be busy. The hope is that no one will notice one or two people dressed ready to go into the field, moving within the busy hallways.
We contemplated waiting another week, until we were going out on assignment.
It would have been easier to slip away from the base, but even with my little promotion, thanks to the tower, we most likely wouldn't get deployed in the right direction.
Or alone, for that matter. More often than not, crews are being sent out in two or three groups. Safety in numbers, and all that.
We make our way through the courtyard and Leo and I bump fists as we separate at the beginning of the maze of hallways.
Farra gives me a tight nod. It's all I get before they disappear towards the mess hall.
I glance over at Deacon, and we head in the opposite direction to where most of the weapons are kept.
I momentarily curse myself for partnering with Deacon, and not Tarius.
The man is near invisible and Deacon... well, isn't. But Tarius is going to secure the buggies, which will most likely be more difficult.
We slip into the armory, not an officer in sight. They're so confident in our compliance they don't even bother guarding this anymore.
I catch Deacon drooling over an ancient mace on the wall.
"No. Only what we need! That thing is useless," I hiss.
Deacon laughs as he whips open the ammunition cabinet, throwing a handful of boxes into his pack.
"Ya, but imagine how cool I'd look swinging that thing!"
I snort while scanning intently. I only take three smaller handguns, because there aren't that many here, and the longer we go undetected, the better.
The rifles are an automatic "no", because we wouldn't even get down the hall with them. I look at the curved blades. There are some that are the same shape as Tane’s, both the same size and smaller.
I stuff a smaller one in my pack. I tell myself it's not for sentimental reasons— that it's just the most practical blade for me.
I stuff several other daggers in my bag, and two slingshots. I'd rather have some bows, but again, we need to be discreet. Slingshots can knock someone out from a mile away, anyway.
"Ok, come on, let's go!" I whisper loudly to Deacon.
"Let's roll," he says, zipping up his bag. He's overstuffed it, and I almost laugh because I assume he didn't stick to our list, but there's no time to argue.
I open the door, step out and run straight into the chest of Captain Kethler.
"Going somewhere?" he drawls.
Every muscle in my body locks as my stomach plummets.
I can feel Deacon take a cautious step towards me.
"Just heading to tac training, sir," I say smoothly. I try to look bored—annoyed even.
Deacon steps around me, but before he can utter a word, two officers come out from around the corner, grins plastered on their faces, like they've just won a prize.
Kethler holds out his palm. "Pack," he spits at Deacon.
I ready myself to bolt. Our only way out is to run, but Deacon doesn't seem to have the same instinct, and hands over his pack without a fight.
"Deacon," I hiss at him, but before I can move, another officer to my right has my arms, yanking me away.
"That's what I thought," Kethler huffs, his moustache twitching as he throws Deacon's pack to another officer.
"Let's go," he yells.
The officers flank Deacon, grabbing his arms, and finally he seems to snap out of it, and begins to struggle.
"We'll take them down to the holding cells. I'll have to check with Councilman Morosse before we decide how to proceed. He'll be disappointed to know he was wrong about these two," he tsks, before roughly shoving Deacon forward.
This is the worst possible timing. My face feels hot. The lanterns on the walls are too bright, the straps on my pack dig into my shoulders. Panic overwhelms my senses, until I'm focusing on all the wrong things.
The officer yanks me roughly, earning a warning glare from Deacon.
I rip my arm away from him, "I'm obviously going. Keep your hands off of me."
The man gives me a seedy grin, and I barely resist the urge to lunge at him.
We head down past the library. The further we get from the garage bays, the worse I feel.
They're going to wait too long for us. We had a plan for if any of us got caught, but as I think of it now, doubt seeps into me.
Will they leave, like we'd all agreed to?
I can only hope they do, and they all meet the twins, and Willow and Linden, and they get out of here.
Maybe if we can keep these assholes busy for long enough, the others can get away.
"In here. Separate cells. Wouldn't want them getting too comfortable," the Captain sneers, as the one officer throws Deacon across the cell.
Kethler doesn't stick around, just leaves the three officers to guard us.
I'm thrown into the other cell, the door slamming shut and locking me in without another word.
To my utter horror, two of the guards waltz into Deacon's cell. One of them throws a solid punch, clipping his jaw, and he crumbles to the ground. The other officer laughs and kicks Deacon in the ribs.
An icy calm takes over my body as I yell for them to stop.
The officer who'd thrown me into the cell comes to the bars, "don't worry, sweetie. We'll have our fun with you, too."
Rage consumes me, and I welcome it with open arms. I sink into the place within myself that's pure instinct, reveling in the emptiness, and I run at the door.
Grabbing his shirt through the slots, I use all of my strength to pull him against the bars, slamming his face into the metal.
He recovers, ripping my clasped fingers off his shirt.
"You stupid bitch! You're going to regret that," he says, spitting blood my way and wiping his busted lip.
The other officers finally leave Deacon alone, locking his cell, and coming over to see the commotion.
"She got you through the bars? Gods, you're daft," says the tall blonde one.
The one I attacked stumbles forward, fumbling for the right key to open my door. He's the oldest. His hard face tells me I am going to regret my actions.
"Leave her. We'll have our fun later. If we mess them up too bad before the Councilman gets here, we'll be in shit. Remember last time?" He gives his friend a warning glare.
I ignore the vermin outside of our cells for a minute, needing to check on Deacon.
I lean against the bars that separate our cells.
It's damp and dank down here, the concrete chilled by a moisture I can tell never fully dries.
I shiver as I press up against the cool bars, trying to reach through to the lump of a man—that is my friend—laying on the floor.
"Dea?" I whisper. "Deacon. Wake up." I try to reach his leg, but I can't. I need to make sure he's breathing.
When he rolls over and gags a bit, I slump against the bars with relief.
He lifts his hand, giving me a silent thumbs up, and I can't help the half-snort, half-sob that leaves me.
"I'm so sorry," I say under my breath.
Deacon rolls over more, until he faces me. I'm relieved that his face doesn't look too bad. He's still him, still here. I'm worried his ribs took the worst of it.
He shimmies himself to the bars beside me and sticks his arm through. I wrap myself around it immediately, not at all ashamed to cling to him right now.