Talen

The men in white coats began to pull me backward, toward the door. I fought against them, but there was nothing I could do.

“All right! I get the point! I’ll stop! I won’t say anything else!”

“It’s too late for that.” My father shook his head before turning his back to me so he could stare out the window of his office. “Take him.”

The men pulled me backward and out of the room as I screamed.

“Dad, please! You don’t have to do this! Dad! Dad!”

I watched as the door closed, and I was dragged outside and thrown in the back of an unmarked, white van.

I force air in and out of my lungs, telling myself with each breath that I have to move. I have to clean everything up and get out of here before another drunken idiot from The Plant stumbles by. I have to get back to the west side of Platterston before I’m seen.

Crawling to the rocky edge of the river, I wash in the frigid water—first my hands, then my arms, shoulders, and chest. The shock of the cold brings me out of my head and back to the present. Once Mack’s blood is gone from my body, I clean my knives and then secure them back in their sheaths. I stand and stretch my arms up over my head for a moment. Killing a man is no easy task, and my muscles are tense and sore. After removing the small amount of coins from Mack’s pockets, I gather his clothing, ball it up with a couple of rocks, and toss it into the center of the rushing current. Maybe someone will find it, but it will never be traced back to me.

Unlike those long-ago days, forensic countermeasures are pointless here and now. No one will investigate the disappearance of Mack. If he is ever found, no one will even care who he was. He was a Naught, and no one with an interest in upholding laws is going to care what happens to a Naught.

My hands are still shaking as I get dressed and check over the crime scene. It’s too dark to see if I’ve missed any blood, but the area is close enough to the river that it should wash away anything that’s left. If it doesn’t, oh well. I’m beyond caring.

At this point, I just need to get out of here.

Crossing the river is easy this time of night—no one is out and about. I make my way back to my secret cache and add the coins in my pocket to the bag inside. I sit for a moment as all the built-up adrenaline in my system sours and makes my head foggy. I need sleep, which brings about its own issues. I’m not entirely sure where I should go.

Jonny and Milo will be wondering where I am, and they will likely be displeased if I don’t return soon. However, returning in my current state would raise far too many questions. Ava will notice that I’m not quite right, and she will make her assumptions. If I wait, she might be convinced that I’d just forced Mack to leave the area.

Then again, I’ve been thinking it might be time to move on. I could head south, following the river. I could even climb up the western mountain and see if there is any sign of life on the other side. My options are limitless.

The problem is, I like living around Plastictown. I like the residents, the river, and the easy access to the Thaves’ goods in Hilltop. I don’t want to leave, and my head is far too messed up right now to make any kind of decision. Sleep must come first.

Of course, I left my new sleeping mat back at Ava’s tent, so the ground is my only option.

I leave the general area of my hiding spot and find a place on the hill that is flat and not too rocky. I brush away some of the ash on the ground and lie down, wrapping my jacket around me for the little warmth it offers.

Though I’m exhausted, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, continued memories traipse around my head like a herd of goats in a marketplace. I don’t want to think about my former life with my father, and I consider smacking myself in the face just to give me something else on which to focus.

With a grumble, I roll over and try to get more comfortable on the ground. Ash billows up with my movement, and I remember that I never retrieved my scarf from Mack’s mouth. I pull the edge of my jacket up over my nose and think about what I might have to trade with the clothing merchant when I see a slight movement in the trees.

Holding my breath, I stare in the direction of the movement. Though there is a dark shape partially concealed by a tree, I can’t determine what kind of animal it might be. There are deer in the area, but I had heard no noise—I had only seen the shape move.

As I stare, the shape moves again—slowly and silently—from one tree to another.

It’s a person.

In fact, I’m almost positive it’s the dark-haired woman-thief I drove out of Hilltop just two days ago.

Chapter 7

I sit up and casually rub the back of my neck. I don’t look in the direction of the dark shape, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see that she’s stopped moving. I wonder how long she has been watching me and feel a slight sense of panic that she might have been following me when I stashed my coins.

I thought I had been careful. I should have noticed if she were around when I headed up the hill, but I am also still a little out of sorts from my earlier encounter. Maybe she saw me when I crossed the clearing before heading to this little plateau on the hillside. Maybe she came across me after I settled down to sleep. Maybe it just doesn’t matter at this point.

I wonder how long she’ll stay right where she is, knowing I’m awake. How long can she stand there, unmoving, hidden behind a tree? If I stood up and walked in her direction, how would she react? Would she run from me, fight, or try to talk her way out of the situation? I also wonder what she would do if I were to fall asleep. Slip away quietly? Try to rob me? Kill me?

I have no idea.

Though my heart rate has increased, my thoughts are calm again. Hunting is familiar territory though I’m playing the part of the prey. Right now, I’m comfortable with waiting for her to make a move.

So, I sit without ever looking directly at her. I rub my neck again, stretch out my arms and legs, and crack my knuckles while I keep an eye on the dark shape in the trees. She stays remarkably still, which I find impressive. I continue to sit and observe for some time, shifting my position occasionally and even rummaging through my pack on the pretense of looking for something. I know how uncomfortable she must be trying to remain motionless for such a long period of time. The longer she stays in place, the more she will develop the urge to move. The body wants to shift weight from one foot to the other. The mind wants to wander, making unintended movements more probable. I bet by now, her nose is starting to itch. I smile at the thought and wonder how long I can make her keep this up.