And then he turns to me. “Either of you,” he adds, and I bite the inside of my cheek, uncomfortable being loved so easily.

Chapter XXII

As soon as Elias leaves to go find Ox my sister turns to me and says, “So where do we start looking for a way out of here?”

I almost choke on my tea, I’m so surprised. She’d said she supported the need for us to leave, but I didn’t expect her to be willing to go against Elias without my prompting.

She’s got such a mischievous grin on her face that I can’t help smiling back. “I have no idea,” I admit. “It seems the only real way off the island is by that cable car, but it’s guarded and leads to a platform crawling with Unconsecrated.”

Her forehead wrinkles as she thinks. “No boat and no way to fly, so …” She wraps the leftover bread in a scrap of cloth, combing crumbs off the table into her hand and then tossing them in her mouth.

“That leaves the possibility of tunnels,” I finish.

Her eyes grow wide and she covers her mouth as she coughs. “Dig a tunnel under the river?”

I laugh. “There are already tunnels under the Dark City and the Neverlands—part of the old subway system. There’s a chance they extended them out to this island back before the Return. The only issue is trying to find the entrance, which could be anywhere but is probably in one of the buildings.”

She leans back on the edge of the table, fingers drumming her lips. “So what you’re saying is that we need to scour the island for something that might not exist?”

I nod. Put like that, the task seems impossible.

She sighs. “I’ll get my coat.”

As promised we avoid the headquarters, which is easy since it’s right in the center of the island. Instead we walk side by side as if out for a casual stroll. She tells me stories about growing up with a mother in Vista and I tell her anecdotes about Elias. For a few brief moments, life seems almost normal.

I can feel the eyes of the Recruiters stationed along the walls following us, though. They shout warnings to the boats bobbing in the river, evacuees from the Dark City on board begging for help. Unconsecrated that have washed ashore moan and scratch at the thick barrier. One of the Recruiters nicks his finger with the barb of an arrow and taunts the plague rat with it before putting the creature out of its misery.

I keep my fists in my pockets, wishing I had the comforting weight of a machete against my hip. Instead I have to make do with a small switchblade Elias found in our flat. Better than nothing.