Exile to Hell

“Have you come up with a plan yet?” Brigid asked, not trying to disguise the disgust in her tone.

“More or less. I’m taking you to a man who canif anyone cansmuggle you out of the ville.”

“To where?”

“The Outlands, where else?”

“What makes you think I want to leave?” Fright caught at her voice. “I’d prefer the Pits to the Outlands.”

Kane stopped, turning to face her. “We’re seizing the offensive here, Baptiste. I’m surprised we’ve gotten this far. But you can’t stay in the Pits. It’s the first place the Mags will search.”

“If I leave the ville, I’ll be an” She bit back the word, unable to utter it.

Kane spoke it for her. “An outlander. It’s better than being dead.”

“It’s not supposed to be.” Her lips trembled. “I’ve thrown my whole life away.”

He stroked her tangled, dirty hair clumsily, trying to soothe her. “No, Baptiste. You still have a life. It’ll be hard, but it will be life.”

“What kind of life can I have in the Outlands?” Her voice was thin and small like a child’s. “I’m an archivist, not a survivalist. Where will I go?”

Kane was growing impatient, increasingly aware of the passing of precious minutes. “I don’t know. Unless you know of a Preservationist hideout or can find a secret gateway to paradise, you don’t have many options. Neither of us do.”

Her eyes suddenly flashed brightly, overwhelming the fear in them. “Quantum interphase mat-trans inducers.”

“What about these quantum things?”

“They were colloquially known as gateways. I read about them, the redoubts, their locations. If we could find one”

“What good will that do? Don’t you need some kind of accessing or operational code?”

Brigid tapped her forehead with a finger. “The file I found listed the codes. I committed all of them to memory.”

Skeptically Kane asked, “All of them?”

“All of them. I have an eidetic memory.” Seeing Kane’s blank expression, she added, “A photographic memory. I see something once, and I remember everything about it in detail. Even numerical sequences.”

A smile creased Kane’s lips.

“What?” she asked.

“Later, Baptiste. But keep on surprising me. I may be able to surprise you in return.”

They hurried off, darting down, then up muddy back lanes. Kane couldn’t keep the smile from returning to his face. An idea had sprung into his mind, full-blown. The plan was impossible, crazy, but it seemed absolutely lucid compared to the hopeless nightmare of the past couple of hours. Now, at least, there was a faint light of hope shining in the darkness of despondency. Of course, they still had to find a way to escape the ville undetected and reach the hellzone, but he was certain Guana Teague could offer up a few suggestionsespecially if he believed his life was at stake. Which it certainly was.

The few people they encountered moved aside quickly, keeping their eyes cast down. On top of its other functions, Magistrate armor was an instant crowd-parter.

When Kane finally saw the warehouse looming up against the inner ville wall, the first thing he noticed was the open door. With Brigid behind him, he pushed it open and stepped inside. Immediately he knew something was wrong. He smelled it and he sensed it. His ebullience drained away, as if poured down a hole.

Turning to Brigid, he put his finger to his lips, then filled his hand with the Sin Eater. She leaned into him, and he became acutely aware of her left breast against his arm.

Even through the armor, he could feel her heart pumping hard and fast. Whispering into her ear, he said, “Find some cover. No matter what you see or hear, don’t move.”

She said nothing, nor did she even nod. The gaze she gave Kane was the same wary look she might cast toward a tiger, if she came across one in her living quarters. It was a look Kane recognized. He had slipped into his Magistrate persona as easily as he had slipped into his armor, and she sensed the change in him.

Brigid followed the line of the wall, found a stack of boxes in a cobwebby corner and crouched down behind them, hands around her knees.

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