The Pledge

He didn’t touch me again, but he towered over me, glaring, intimidating. When he spoke, he didn’t address me, but rather turned to Max. “We need to find out what she knows.”

Angelina clutched my hand, and I wondered if she’d somehow understood the meaning of his actions, if she’d sensed the tension in his voice.

I wondered what he meant exactly by “what she knows”? Was it possible that Max had confided his suspicions in Claude?

I lifted my chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard my heart beat or how cold my blood ran.

Fortunately, at least in that single moment, Max’s was the only answer that mattered, and he shook his head. “She stays here with her sister,” he stated in a voice that was unyielding—and regal. And I couldn’t believe I hadn’t picked up on that before.

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to look at any of them as they departed, Max leading the way and never looking back.

I simply remained quiet, ignoring the conflicting emotions that warred within me, refusing to entertain the thousand questions that swirled in my head. I concentrated instead on keeping Angelina tucked safely at my side.

XII

I don’t know how long I stood there, or how long the people around me planned to remain on their knees, but for far too much time none of us moved. This time when I heard the sound of footsteps, they came from an entirely different direction and carried with them none of the thunder that Max’s army had.

All I knew for certain was that when I looked up to see who approached, I saw the last person I’d expected staring back at me.

Xander. And he stood before a motley group of men and women who remained behind him, hidden within the darkness the underground passageways provided.

Whatever I’d felt about Xander before was now overshadowed by Max’s deceit. I wasn’t sure I felt anything at all for the moment, save a dull glimm B th `ed behinder of relief.

We were no longer alone, my sister and I.

They’d come not from the entrance, but from the rear of the tunnels, from the deserted channels that had once been traveled by trains that ran beneath the city. Xander strode forward with quiet confidence to where we waited, his own army small in contrast to the one that had just vacated the tunnels. Angelina huddled against me, squeezing my leg.

“What are you doing here? How did you find us?” I asked when Xander was almost upon us.

But he just lifted his finger to his lips, silencing my questions. “Just come with me.” There was no other explanation. He held out a hand, and I had to make a decision. It wasn’t a difficult one, though. I didn’t want to stay where we were, surrounded by all those people who’d just witnessed what had happened with Max. I couldn’t bear to see the questions in their eyes.

When I stepped forward to take his hand, I felt Sydney at my back and realized she had no intention of being left behind, and we followed Xander as he drew us into the passageways that cut a path through the blackness.

I had no idea where we were, but it was magnificent. Breathtaking.

It was more like an underground city than a tunnel by the time we’d finally reached our destination. People—Outcasts, I assumed—moved freely around us, their lanterns creating near-daylight conditions even in the middle of the night.

Like the clubs, color filled nearly every space, but here the colors came in the form of carpets, mismatched clothing, and blankets that were strung everywhere, creating barriers that were used in place of more permanent walls and doors, a means of privacy amid the confusion. I smelled rich spices and tobacco, and smoke and food, as well as the moist earth that surrounded us. The acoustical sounds of stringed instruments melded together with shouts of laughter and crying babies.

A small boy scooted past us, squeezing between Sydney and me as he ran from an older child—girl or boy, I couldn’t be certain, the chin-length curls could have gone either way. I watched as mothers rocked their babies while toddlers played at their feet, and as men gathered to play games of chance. There was the familiar bustle of commerce and steady chatter. It was a little like standing in the middle of the crowded marketplace, save the absence of a blue sky overhead.

The activity was ceaseless. And the only language I heard spoken was Englaise.

I felt instantly at peace.

“What is this place?” I breathed, setting Angelina on the ground to walk beside me as I marveled at the chaos all around.

We stopped to see an older girl drawing lines in the dirt, while a group of children dressed in what I could only describe as patchwork clothing began dividing into teams, readying for a game. The girl’s fingers were coated with layers of grime, and her cheeks were pink with exertion as she concentrated on creating the large, perfectly shaped squares.

Xander smiled. “This is my home.”

A woman marched up to meet us—or rather, to greet Xander—and I realized that I’d seen her before; she was the bartender from Prey. Her bl J th a Her bl ue hair was evident even in the unnatural glow of the gas lamps.

“Charlie, this is Eden.” Xander introduced the two of us, and I nodded at her, trying to recall if I’d ever before seen eyes so black. I was sure there were no others like them in all the world.

I had the strangest feeling that the bartender—Eden—didn’t smile often. Her teeth were bared just a little too much as she attempted to appear hospitable.

Yet another reason the Outcasts didn’t live within the rules of normal society, I thought as I tried to smile back at her.