Night In A Waste Land (Hell Theory #2) - Lauren Gilley Page 0,73

had probably been posh once upon a time. Now, it was only slightly less sad than the rest of the city – as well as guarded day and night, at both ends of the street, by heavily-armed, armored thugs with night vision goggles. Doing a drive-by wasn’t an option.

They parked two streets over and left the bikes behind a burned-out dumpster.

“They’ll be stolen,” Gallo said, looking at his own with wistfulness.

“Ha,” Gavin said, unwinding a length of wire. “If they wanna get blown up.”

As far as deterrents went, rigging an explosive device up to all their bikes wasn’t the best way to preserve them – but it was better than hoping for the best.

Lance scanned their surroundings through his goggles, noting dark windows, and empty, slimy sidewalks. There was no way of knowing if there were human eyes, or even cameras watching them.

He’d had his misgivings about the idea, at first, but it was with a large dose of relief that he said, “Morgan? Can you tell if anyone’s looking at us? Even with cameras?”

When he glanced toward her, she had her eyes shut, and her head tipped back, breathing deep – searching, somehow, supernaturally. He’d spent plenty of – too much – time around Castor’s pet conduit, once upon a time, but it still rattled him to see one use her senses in this way.

“There are cameras at either end of the street,” she announced, when her eyes opened. She blinked a few times, as if clearing her vision. “But they aren’t pointed toward us.”

“Guess that’ll have to do.” He met Rose’s gaze, and she nodded, ready, a length of cable attached to a grappling hook already coiled around one wrist. “Are you good to climb?” he asked Morgan.

“Yes.”

The building was three stories, old, weathered brick gone slippery from years of water, algae, mold, and ash. The hooks went up cleanly, firmly attached, and they had gloves, and boots with thick, rubber tread; safety carabiners. Still, it was hard going. By the time he finally reached the top, Lance all but dragged himself over the parapet, and flopped inelegantly down on his stomach, shoulders and arms burning, breath coming in sharp pants. He was lying in a puddle, could feel it soaking into his fatigues, but he shut his eyes a moment, let the rain pelt the side of his face, and pretended he couldn’t feel how disgusting the texture of the roof was against his other cheek.

When he pushed himself up, he wasn’t at all surprised to find Rose on her feet already, stowing her rope, Morgan standing beside her, placid and unbothered, and not even out of breath. At least Gavin and Tris and Gallo looked properly winded.

“There’ll be guards on the roof,” he said. “Make sure your suppressors are on. Let’s move.”

They picked their way carefully over the rooftops, leaping narrow gaps, and slipping on rare steep slopes. When they were behind the townhouse block, amid the rear units, they crouched down behind an air conditioning unit that didn’t look like it had worked even before the First Rift. Shubert had enough money to burn electricity, apparently: in the house, beaming up through a skylight, and down on the street, a yellow glow off the building facades opposite. It backlit the men prowling the roof, hulking silhouettes with slender rifle barrels sprouting over their shoulders.

“I count four,” Tris said.

“Five,” Gavin corrected. “The one over on the corner.”

Lance took a steadying breath and tried to form a strategy. Once the first one was hit, the others would know something was up. If they had radios…or if one of them shouted, and alerted the troops on the street, who most certainly had radios…Lance didn’t want to open things up with a firefight; it would give Shubert a chance to flee, and if he was like Castor at all, he had secret doors, stairwells, and tunnels that would get him off property while they were busy mowing through hired goons.

Morgan said, “If I may?”

Lance turned his head to regard her, met only by a small, serious face, flyaway white-blond hair glued to her cheeks with rainwater.

Over her head, he met Rose and then Tris’s gazes. Tris shrugged. Rose nodded.

He said, “Go for it.”

“Alright.” The girl took a deep breath, pressed her hands flat to the AC box, and shut her eyes. After a moment, she shuddered.

Lance glanced up and over, just in time to see the five guards freeze, and then fall, boneless, to the rooftop. Above the patter