I scoop up the chest itself, and then pause. This thing is about thirty pounds. There’s no way I’ll fit down the storm drain with it. And I can’t just quickly send out the message I need to right here and now, either. I need Elliott’s help for that—and I just sent him into the sewers with every cop in the city on his tail, so I could make sure he wouldn’t give himself up to his mom.

I spare a quick glance down the street. Elliott has disappeared—hopefully into the storm drain and not into police custody—and the mayor and the cops are now dispersed throughout the crowd, searching for him, grabbing escaped prisoners.

A shot rings out and I flinch. No one except the older cop has spotted me yet, and he’s gotten distracted chasing down the fleeing fish-selling brothers now, but it’s only a matter of time before other officers recognize me and come after me.

I won’t get far in a chase lugging this transmitter. And I can’t risk anyone even realizing I have it yet, or my whole plan could go up in smoke. I search for ideas. Can’t go down the drain, can’t flee on foot. That leaves only one option.

I curse under my breath. I take three long strides. And I step onto Valkyrie Bridge.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I COUNT TO FIVE AND THEN STOP WALKING. I KEEP MY gaze fixed on the gray nothingness over my head so I won’t accidentally look into any of the mirrors that have been thrown on the ground farther in. I may know the truth about what they are now but that doesn’t make them any less terrifying, or any less deadly. I listen carefully—for the scuff of shoes behind me, for the breathing of any Beings ahead of me. I keep my own breathing shallow and try not to think about the smells.

The heavy acridness of the fog. The cloying undertone of death that clings to it.

All I have to do is hide. Just for a few minutes. The cops will go after the fleeing prisoners, and the looming eye wall of the hurricane will drive everyone else back to their shelters. Then I’ll be safe. Then I can escape without being spotted.

That smell of death. I’m trying not to think about what it is. Who it is. But I can’t stop picturing Sam Garcia’s panicked face. I wonder how far he got. Halfway across? Did he make it to the mainland before they got him? Or is it really what’s left of him that’s rotting right now, hanging heavy on the air?