Chapter Thirty-Two #3
Brains can only handle so much information, and when a person’s brain is at capacity, it starts taking mental shortcuts.
Focus can’t be divided, so the novelty of a disruption takes precedence over more mundane things.
Once the mark’s attention is anchored where we want it, their mind starts to filter out unrelated information.
Add a sense of urgency, and decisions become about emotions rather than logic and reasoning.
Back in the communal cell, after I’d gotten the information I needed from Heather, I asked her a question.
“What would you do if the cell was unlocked?”
She gave me a long-suffering sigh. “I’d leave.”
“Where would you go?”
She shrugged. “Anywhere but here.”
I sat forward, looking her in the eye. “What would you do if you had a key that opened all the cells in Tartarus?”
For the first time, an expression other than boredom or disdain crossed her face, a spark catching.
“I would open all the cells. Let out all the vengeful souls. And we would take down this shithole together.”
A good distraction can make or break a con. It can make or break a heist. It is absolutely necessary for a jailbreak. And the best distractions not only distract but disrupt.
I leaned back against the cell wall and raised an eyebrow at Heather. “Then the keepers of Tartarus better hope you never get handed the key.”
I hope Heather is having the time of her life—or death, I should say—ordering people around and causing chaos. Because one of us should get to punch prison guards.
I gaze in the direction the lady bolted down and shrug. Missed opportunity. I’d been seconds away from acting out my prison riot fantasies when a wave of despair had passed over me. I was convinced I was doomed to fail and my only option was to give up.
That is so not like me.
I look to CJ, who won’t meet my eyes.
“You just used your magic on me,” I gasp.
They grit their teeth. “You would have gotten caught.”
I press my palms to the side of my head. “Oh my god. I have never felt so terrible in my entire life.”
They wince.
“That was so cool!”
They blink.
“Do it again,” I say, prodding them.
“Absolutely not.” They’re already walking away.
I twirl the keys I just pickpocketed from the guard lady and run after them. “I wonder what else you could do. Could you make me, I don’t know, think I’m a chicken?”
CJ taps on the door to cell DCLXVII with their ear to the grate. “What emotion would make you think you’re a chicken?”
“I don’t know. Boredom. Paranoia?” I fumble through the keys, noticing they’re all secured on a cochlea. Gross. “Maybe you could even move on to telepathy and mind control next!”
CJ scowls.
I hand them the keys. “They’re in Roman numerals,” I say.
They roll their eyes, sorting through until they find the right one. They press it into the lock. It clicks.
I hold my breath.
They carefully open the door. Inside, it’s dark as hell. I would say it looks empty, but I can’t see anything, not even the walls.
“Credence?” I whisper, my voice bouncing back and echoing.
Credence.
Credence.
“Credence.”
The last echo, however, isn’t in my voice.
It’s neither masculine nor feminine, just breathy and…off.
“Is that my name?” the voice asks.
Out of the shadows glides a tall silhouette of a tattered soul. It has no distinguishable features, no more than a ragged suggestion of a person.
What have they done to her? Have they done this to Dante as well?
“Credence?” I ask. “Rook sent us.”
Something like a head whips toward me.
“The code phrase,” CJ reminds me.
“Right, um, quod est superius…est sicut…quod inferius, and—I mean, et…quod inferius est, ugh…sicut quod est superius?”
Rook made me repeat it over and over, but I never got the hang of it. Too many quods and sicuts.
It works, though, because the soul before us stops, then deflates as though it’s letting out a deep sigh. It moves toward us again, slower this time. When it reaches us, it extends what looks like a hand and gently touches it to my cheek.
“Credence?” I ask. “Rook sent us.”
Another pulse or sigh. An affirmation.
It’s her.
We did it. We found her.
We broke into Tartarus, caused a jailbreak, and freed Rook’s sister. I can’t keep the goofy grin off my face.
CJ gives me their version of a smile. Dante used to call it their “grin-mace.”
My own expression falters.
“You have Credence’s finger bone?” I ask.
CJ nods, reaching into their pocket.
“No, you hold on to it,” I say. “Get to the meeting point. Stay safe. But wait until I meet up with you to give Credence the finger—” I shake my head. “I mean wait to hand her the bone. I don’t want Tolliver to bring me back just yet.”
“Where are you going?” CJ asks.
“To get Dante.”
I turn to go, but they grab my arm. “This wasn’t the plan. Melody will show me where he is, and we’ll get him next time.”
“We might not have a next time,” I argue, shaking them free. “Besides, who knows if your cover is even still intact?” I’m already backing down the corridor. “I’ll see you guys in a minute. Just trust me.”
“If someone tells you to trust them, it’s because you can’t trust them!” CJ calls after me, but I’m already gone.