Cameron’s head snaps back to find her father staring, eyes a dark and deep black. “Of course not.”
Even though I don’t want to interrupt their reunion, I have to. “The power station?” I prod, looking up at the elder Cole.
He glances down at me. He has a kind face, no mean feat in a place like this. “NT has six, one for each sector. But if we cut off the central hub, that will do the job.”
Mention of the plan snaps something in Cameron. She straightens, focuses. “This way,” she says sharply, beckoning to us.
The shift change is much more crowded than even the worst days in the Stilts market. Silver officers in black uniforms keep watch. Not on the ground, on the filthy streets, but from the overarching walkways and windows of foreboding guard posts. Officers and posts I know well enough. I watch them as I pass, noting their disinterest. It’s not the same disinterest Silvers show us at court, their way of making us feel like less than we already are. But a boredom. A disuse. Silvers aren’t assigned to slum towns because they’re warriors of important bloodlines. This isn’t a post anyone would envy.
The guards of New Town are far weaker than any enemy I’m used to. And they have no idea we’re already here.
Cameron’s father looks her over, thoughtful as we walk. I shiver when his gaze passes over me, then back to his daughter. “So it’s true, then. You’re something . . . different.”
I wonder what he’s heard. What the Scarlet Guard told their contacts in New Town. Maven’s propaganda and poisoned broadcasts made clear the existence of newbloods. Does he know what his daughter can do?
She holds his stare, his equal. “I am,” she says without flinching.
“You walk with the lightning girl.”
“I do,” she replies.
“And this is . . . ?” he adds, eyeing Kilorn.
With a loopy grin, Kilorn touches his brow and angles himself into a shallow bow. “I’m the muscle.”
Mr. Cole almost laughs as he takes in Kilorn’s tall but lean form. “Sure, kid.”
The buildings around us grow higher, stacked precariously. There are cracks in the walls and windows, and every block needs a fresh coat of paint—or just the good wash of a rainstorm. The workers around us start to peel off, heading into different apartment structures with waves and calls. Nothing seems amiss.
“We’re grateful for your help, Mr. Cole,” I say under my breath, keeping my focus ahead. A few Silver guards stand on an arch some yards away, and I lower my face as we pass.
“Thank the elders, not me,” Mr. Cole answers. He doesn’t bother hiding from the guards. He’s nothing to them. “They’ve been ready for this for a long time.”
My throat tightens in shame. “Because someone should have done something a long time ago.” Someone like you, Tiberias. You knew these places existed, and for who. For what.
Cameron grits her teeth. “At least we’re doing something now.” At her side, she clenches a fist. With her ability, she could kill the two guards above us if she wanted. Drop them right off the arch.
But we pass by without incident, stepping into the shadow of the slouching, gray slum apartment building at the end of the residential street. It looks like the toy blocks of a giant child, piled high against the hazy blue. One section is taller than the rest, dotted with grimy, dim windows.
It’s where we need to be.
Mr. Cole glances at me, then at the structure. “Up you go, lightning girl,” he says, his voice soft. “Get high, get loud. That’s the plan, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble. Already I call to the lightning, feeling it respond deep in my bones.
When we reach the base of the building, we’re almost alone on the street, joined only by shift stragglers. Cameron turns to her father, eyes wide. “How much time do we have?”
He turns over his wrist and glances at his watch. Then Mr. Cole frowns, the lines cutting deep. “None,” he says. “You have to go.”
She blinks rapidly, her jaw working. “Okay.”
“Sir, I believe this is yours,” Kilorn says, reaching into his jacket. He pulls free a small pistol, and extra rounds of ammunition, neat in their case.
Mr. Cole looks at the gun like a snake that might bite. He hesitates, until Cameron takes it from Kilorn and presses it to his chest. She widens her eyes, pleading.
“Point and click, Daddy. Don’t hesitate,” she says with furious need. “Silvers won’t.”
Slowly, gingerly, he tucks the gun away into the satchel at his side. As he turns, I catch sight of the tattoo on his neck.
“Fine,” he breathes, dazed. I think all this is starting to catch up with him. Then he clears his throat. “The new-shift techs at the hub are informed. They’ll power down the city with your first strike, after the signal crosstown. Coordinate the systematic shutoff with your storm. Silvers won’t know we’re in on it. Buy some time.”
This part of the plan was eagerly arranged by both the Scarlet Guard and their contacts within the slum city.
“Everyone knows about the charges?” I ask, if only to be sure. The Scarlet Guard who slipped in with us are already scattered around the city, planting their bombs. Laying our traps.
Cole’s expression darkens and he scowls. “Everyone who can be trusted. We might have our own resistance, but we’ve got informants all over.”
I swallow hard, trying not to think what might happen if the wrong person knew what was about to happen. Maven himself might descend on New Town and crush our insurgency. Bring this poisoned, polluted ground smashing down on us all. And if we fail here, where will that leave the other slum cities? What will it prove?
That nothing can be done. That these people can’t be saved.
Kilorn notes my unease and nudges my shoulder, if only to snap me out of it. Cameron is, understandably, more concerned with her father.
“Okay,” she says, “just watch where you bleeding step.”
Cole clucks his tongue. “Don’t curse, Cam.”
Without warning, Cameron smiles and throws her long arms around her father’s neck, hugging him tightly. “Kiss Mama for me,” I hear her murmur.
“You’ll kiss her yourself soon enough,” he whispers back, lifting her slightly off the ground. Their eyes shut in unison as they hold on to each other. And this fragile, fleeting moment.
I can’t help but think of my family, so far away. Safe. Tucked up in the mountains, protected by thousands of miles and another country sworn to fight with us. Living with hope for the first time in too many years. It isn’t fair, especially to Cameron, who has survived far worse than I have. But I’m glad I don’t have to shoulder the burden of my family’s safety alongside everything else. I can barely handle the danger to the people I love who are still fighting.
Cameron pulls away from her father first. It’s an act of untold strength. As is letting her go. Mr. Cole steps back, sniffing, looking at his feet. Hiding a sudden redness around his eyes. Tears prick at Cameron too, and she scuffs her boot against the dirty street, kicking up dust in distraction.
“Shall we?” she says, turning to me. Her eyes are wet.
“Let’s climb.”
We watch the city with hawk focus, each of us at a window looking out in a different direction. I wipe at the glass with my sleeve. It only moves the grime around, leaving brown streaks. The attic space fogs with dust every time we move, kicking up another cloud. Kilorn coughs into his hand, a hoarse sound.
“I see smoke on this side, in between those factories,” he says.
At her window, Cameron raises a shoulder. “Autoworks sector,” she replies without turning around. “The assembly lines jammed half an hour ago. The shift will be turned out, and they’ll idle around the gates asking for the day’s wage. Overseers will refuse. Officers will try to keep peace.” She grins to herself. “Big mess.”
“What color is the smoke, Kilorn?” I ask, still scanning my section of horizon. From this height, New Town seems smaller. But just as depressing. All gray and smoggy, hung with low clouds of brutal haze. It pulses, sluggish, the electricity almost overwhelming.
“Uh, normal?” Kilorn sputters. “Gray.”