“And now you can do it too,” Sparky said.
“Yeah.” Jack nodded, looked at his friends, and released their hands. They did not comment or back away, but he could still sense that strange distance between them. It made him incredibly sad.
“So what's it like?” Sparky asked. Jack was so grateful to his friend for even asking, but before he could respond Fleeter was back. With a clap! she appeared before them, litter and dust swirling from the displaced air.
“They're gathering their dead and leaving,” she said. She was a stern woman, her features seemingly sculpted rather than grown, and Jack could not help wondering who and what she had been. The short dress seemed incongruous on this woman; this killer.
“So now what?” Jenna asked.
Fleeter raised her eyebrows, looking at Jenna and Sparky properly for the first time. Then she stared at Jack again, and he could see confusion bubbling beneath her outward confidence.
“Now you take me to Reaper,” Jack said.
“What?” Fleeter said.
“Reaper. My father. You take us to him.” Jack stood, remaining close to his friends. “I'm sure he'll want to see me. He sent you to watch over me, after all.”
Fleeter started glancing away, as if unable to hold Jack's gaze. She's scared of me, he thought. And though that idea did not sit comfortably with him—he had no desire to instil fear in anyone—he also knew that it might help.
“Thanks for saving us,” Jenna said. “They'd have probably killed us and taken Jack.”
“Probably,” Fleeter said. “He's special. You're not.”
“Everyone's special,” Jenna said.
“I'm not,” Sparky said, trying to joke. But no one smiled.
“We've seen horrible things since we came into the city,” Jenna went on. “The stuff the Choppers do to Irregulars, and sometimes people like you. People who call themselves Superior. And we've seen what you do to the Choppers, too.”
“They deserve it!” Fleeter said.
“After what they did to my father, I shouldn't argue,” Jenna said. She nodded at Fleeter's questioning glance. “This reaches way beyond what's left of London.”
“I don't care about anything beyond,” Fleeter said. “That no longer exists.” She moved away from them all slightly, standing close to the alley entrance and leaning to look out along the street.
“Then you're blinkered and stupid,” Jenna said. “You must know this can't all go on forever.”
“The more they send, the more we kill,” Fleeter said.
“And what about the illness killing people even now?” Jenna asked.
“We'll find a cure.”
“No,” Jenna said. “There won't be a cure. Not from in here, at least. What were you? A solicitor? A reporter? Checkout girl?”
“What I was before doesn't matter.”
“Of course it does!” Jenna said. “You might be able to skip here and there without anyone seeing, and…and slit people's throats before them even knowing. But you're no doctor or scientist. No one will cure what's killing people like you until London is exposed, and outside help comes in.”
“People like me?” Fleeter asked, and for a moment she seemed furious. But then she calmed as quickly as she had become enraged, and looked down at her feet.
“Are you sick?” Jenna asked softly.
“No. Not yet. But…”
“But?” Jack asked.
“There are those amongst the Superiors who believe it's a blight introduced by Miller and his people. To kill us all. Finally turn London toxic for good.”
“It wouldn't surprise me,” Jack said. They all remained silent for a while, and in the distance they heard motors retreating into the city.
“No,” Jenna said. “No surprise at all. But it's dooming something wonderful to an early end.”