Scarlet (The Lunar Chronicles #2) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,104

the bar, wondering if it was a trap. Perhaps they were luring her into a false security, testing her to see what she would do. Perhaps they wanted her to try to escape so they could use it against her.

Or perhaps—just perhaps—Wolf really had meant to help her.

She snarled. If it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. If he’d told her the truth and explained to her what was going on, she would have come up with another plan to get her grandma out, rather than be led like a lamb to the feast.

The joints in her fingers started to burn from clenching the bars too tight.

Then, from the hollowness of the basement, she heard her name.

Weak and uncertain, posed as a delirious question. Scarlet?

Stomach clenching, Scarlet pushed her face into the bars, their coldness squeezing her cheekbones. “Hello?”

She started to shake as she waited.

Scar … Scarlet?

“Grand-mère? Grand-mère?”

The voice went silent, as if speaking had drained it.

Scarlet thrust herself away from the barred door and ran back to the bed, claiming the small chip she’d tucked beneath the mattress.

She returned to the door desperate, pleading, hoping. If Wolf had tricked her about this—

She reached through the bar and flicked the chip across the scanner. It chimed, the same sickeningly cheerful chime it had given when her guards brought her food, a sound she had despised until this moment.

The bars swung open without resistance.

Scarlet lingered in the open doorway, her pulse racing. Again she found herself straining to hear any sound of her guards, but the opera house seemed abandoned.

She stumbled away from the stairwell, into the blackness of the hallway. Her hands on the walls to either side were her only guides. When she came to another iron-barred door, she paused and leaned against the opening. “Grand-mère?”

Each cell was empty.

Three, four, five cells, all empty.

“Grand-mère?” she whispered.

At the sixth door, a whimper. “Scarlet?”

“Grand-mère!” She dropped the chip in her excitement and immediately fell to the floor in search of it. “Grand-mère, it’s all right, I’m here. I’m going to get you—” Her fingers found the chip and she whipped it up before the scanner. A wash of relief covered her when it chimed, although a pained, terrified sound came from her grandmother upon hearing it.

Scarlet yanked the bars open and pushed into the cell, not bothering to stand lest she accidentally trip over her grandmother in the darkness. The cell was rank with the stench of urine and sweat and old, stale air. “Grand-mère?”

She found her huddled on the gritty stone ground against the back wall. “Grand-mère?”

“Scar? How—?”

“It’s me. I’m here. I’m going to get you out of here.” Her words dissolved into sobs and she grasped her grandma’s frail arms, pulling her into an embrace.

Her grandma cried out, an awful, pitiable sound that cut through Scarlet’s ears. She gasped and laid her back down.

“Don’t,” her grandma whimpered, her body sliding limply down to the ground. “Oh Scar—you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. I can’t stand you being here. Scarlet…” She started crying, choking, wet sobs burbling up from her.

Scarlet hovered over her grandma’s body, fear gripping every muscle. She couldn’t remember hearing her grandmother cry before. “What did they do to you?” she whispered, drawing her hands over her grandmother’s shoulders. Beneath a thin, tattered shirt, there were the lumps of bandages and something damp and sticky.

Biting back her own tears, she traced her grandmother’s chest and ribs. The bandages were everywhere. She stroked the woman’s arms and hands—her hands were shaped more like clubs now, so covered in bandages.

“No, don’t touch them.” Her grandma tried to pull away, but her limbs only twitched uncontrollably.

As tenderly as she could, Scarlet ran her thumb over her grandma’s hands. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. “What did they do to you?”

“Scar, you have to get out of here.” Each word a struggle until she could barely talk, barely breathe.

Scarlet knelt over her, resting her head on her grandma’s breast and stroking the sticky hair off her brow. “It’s going to be all right. I’m going to get you out of here and we’re going to go to the hospital and you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.” She forced herself to sit up. “Can you walk? Have they done anything to your legs?”

“I can’t walk. I can’t move. You have to leave me here, Scarlet. You have to get out.”

“I’m not leaving you. They’ve all left, Grand-mère. We have time.