Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,21

away, the bandages on his head concealing a wealth of untold secrets.

“When was this footage captured?” The question fired out of Marcellus like an explosif.

The directeur tapped on his console and reported back. “Month 7, Day 15, 28.12.”

Marcellus’s mind whirled as he thought back to the last time he’d seen Alouette. In the hallway of Fret 7 in the very early morning of Month 7, Day 16. This footage was captured before that. Which meant …

But he never finished the thought, because suddenly, Alouette was on her feet. She was descending upon the inspecteur with a speed that astonished Marcellus. Fists punching and arms swinging and elbows arcing. He had never seen anything like it. Her movements were fast yet fluid. Powerful yet graceful. All the while her eyes flashed and sparked with fury and determination.

“What on Laterre?” Officer Meudon spat. “Who is that?”

The general said nothing in response, just continued to glare at the screen. The footage shook again as Limier was thrust backward. Then everyone in the room drew in a collective breath as Alouette filled the entire frame once more, and her huge black eyes stared straight back at them.

But no one was looking at her eyes. Because clutched in her slim fingers … was the rayonette.

And it was pointed straight at Limier.

CRASH!

Marcellus spun around to see a smashed monitor lying on the floor and the serpentlike breathing tube dangling from the handrail of the gurney. The cyborg inspecteur was no longer unconscious. He was now thrashing violently. His whole body bucking. His hands scratching at his face as though he could claw the memory right out of his mind.

“I need a médecin in here now!” the directeur shouted.

Seconds later, two cyborgs in green scrubs strode briskly into the room, their faces the epitome of serene despite the chaos around them. The inspecteur continued to spasm as the cyborgs attempted to examine him. Foam pooled at the corners of his mouth and his circuitry, which was inert and dull only moments ago, now sparked frenetically like broken stars.

“Subdural hematoma,” one of the médecins said in an even monotone. “We need to get him into surgery immediately and remove the blood clot from his brain.”

The directeur nodded once and the cyborgs were instantly on the move, guiding the gurney toward the door of the infirmerie. Marcellus jumped back, out of the way, and watched helplessly as Inspecteur Limier disappeared down the hallway, taking all his secrets with him.

Stunned, Marcellus turned his gaze back to the monitor on the wall, which he now saw was frozen on the image of Alouette’s determined glare and the glint of the rayonette in her hands. He didn’t have to watch the rest of the footage to know what came next. The proof had just vanished out the door.

Marcellus stole another glance at his grandfather. The general was also staring at the frozen footage. But this time, Marcellus swore he saw something else reflected in those cryptic hazel eyes. Something that went beyond hatred and rage. It almost looked like fear.

With a snarl, the general turned away from the monitor and stalked toward the door, pausing just long enough to point at Officer Meudon and then at the screen. “I want that girl found.”

- CHAPTER 6 - CHATINE

“LEAVE THEM ALONE! THEY’RE INNOCENT!”

Chatine’s legs burned and her heart raced as she ran through the Frets, chasing after the vanishing forms of the droids. They were faster. Nimbler. They were gigantic. As tall as the Frets themselves. And she was running through mud.

Then she was swimming. The Frets had flooded, sucking all the dirt and waste and muck into a giant sea of filth. But Chatine kept sinking, something gripping at her feet.

Finally, she managed to pull herself to dry land. Her body heaving. A lifetime of grime and poverty spewing from her lungs. She coughed up impossible things: an entire loaf of chou bread; a plastique doll arm; a gold medallion she’d once stolen from a Second Estate foreman, chain and all; a disconnected Skin. And then one of her own lungs, blackened and corroded from a lifetime of breathing in grime.

She wiped at her mouth and stood up to find she was in the Marsh. It was crammed full of people. A platform had been erected. On it stood a humming, glowing, monstrous contraption that Chatine recognized at once. The Blade. That horrible machine that had been used to execute the Premier Enfant’s governess.

Except this time, it wasn’t a lovely, auburn-haired woman that