Half Lost (The Half Bad Trilogy #3) - Sally Green Page 0,78
to kill them. That’s what I’ve done. And they would have killed me without a second thought. They’re Hunters, the enemy. But . . . Shit, I can’t think about this now. I’ve got to get moving.
I check their pockets. Floss has energy bars, a phone, and lip salve. The second girl has no orders, no maps, but she does have a notebook and a phone. It looks like she’s been writing up times and then notes against those, but I haven’t got time to spell out any of the words. The phone is locked, but I bet she’s taken photos on it. I put the blood-covered phones and notebook in my pocket and head back to camp.
They were sixty-five and sixty-six. I repeat it as I run. Sixty-five and sixty-six. If I say numbers, I think numbers, not bodies, not blood, not dead people caressing my face.
Sixty-five, sixty-six. Sixty-five, sixty-six.
The Break-In
We’re in a new camp, only established a few hours ago but already looking organized. Celia has been through the things I’ve brought from the Hunters. From the notebook she works out that the Hunters had only found us that morning, like Greatorex thought. They’d been traveling alone and were many miles from any cut. But they had phoned in that they’d found a camp, had our numbers and location, with comments about the replica of the Council building, though they hadn’t guessed what it was.
“We’re still going on with the attack?” I ask.
“You want to call it off?” Celia replies.
“No.”
“Neither do I. We stick to the plan. The Council meeting will go ahead. They may expect you to get in. Soul might even want that, but they don’t know you’re indestructible. That’s the advantage we have. Just make sure you use it to maximum effect.”
We all patrol the area that day, everyone nervous that we’ve been followed, but Celia’s system of moving and closing cuts seems to have worked. At night, me and Gabriel stay in the camp with the others. We don’t talk. He lies down by the fire and I sit and watch it. I go for a run in the dark to tire myself out and then come back to him. I know I’m doing the right thing. If this can be over soon, then me and Gabriel can leave here for good and find somewhere to live together.
* * *
We’re on our way to the Tower. “We” being all the members of the Alliance who are trained to fight, plus two healers, Arran and another witch, who will tend to any wounded.
Once we’re through the cut and in London, Greatorex, Arran, and the trainees go off to some place I don’t know, but they aren’t with me and I don’t need to think about them. The advance party is here: me, Gabriel, and Celia.
It’s dark by the time we get to the Tower. There’s going to have to be two stages to me getting into it. At the midnight changeover of guards, I need to check if the password has changed; given that Soul probably knows our plans, a change seems guaranteed. To find out the password I’ll have to stay inside for about ten minutes, maybe more. I’ve no idea how I’ll cope with that, but I’ve told Celia I can do it. I did wonder if the amulet might protect me against feeling sick and went inside a shop for a few moments when we got here. Within a minute I felt dizzy and within two I felt like puking. It’s a full moon—just my luck.
So, anyway, I have to find out the password at the midnight changeover and then we have to wait until the eight a.m. change of guards for me to go in.
The towers are hard to distinguish from one another in the dark; lights are on in lots of the flats but the top of Roman Tower is all in darkness. There hasn’t been much movement into or out of any of the buildings.
Celia is watching the far side of the residential estate. I’m standing with Gabriel where we had our curry. Now Gabriel has a bottle of cider. Some local yobs hang around near us and Gabriel swigs from the cider and offers me some. I shake my head and say, “It’s disgusting.”
He smiles. “I’m trying to fit in.”
And of course he does fit in, anywhere he likes, but I tell him, “You’re very good but not perfect . . . try not to sound so happy.”