All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [231]
“That was completely different,” she whispered back, her face scrunching into angry lines. “People’s lives were at stake.”
“Yeah, it was different,” Eliot told her. “I didn’t ask any questions when I stepped between you and certain death. I just saved your life because I’m your brother, and that’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Fiona’s eyes went wide and her gaze bored into his.
“You owe me,” he said.
It was a rotten card to play on his sister, but Eliot had to. He needed her . . . even if it meant she’d be mad at him for the rest of his life.
Fiona hissed through clenched teeth, and it sounded like exploding steam. “You’re going to get yourself and the rest of the team killed.” Shaking her head, she continued. “So, I cannot believe I am saying this—but all right, I’ll go. If for no other reason to make sure you all come back in one stupid piece.”
Eliot wished he could tell her how much her coming meant to him, but he only managed a nod.
“But we make a beeline straight for Jezebel,” Fiona told him. “Get her if we can and get out. And if things get too dangerous, we stop and turn back.”
“Sure,” Eliot said.
He looked over his teammates and considered telling them everything. They deserved to know all the details of Jezebel and her ties to the land.
He exhaled and shut his mouth.
He wished Mitch were here. His white magic had kept them safe before from the shadows. That would have come in handy. And having him there would have been a great boost to Fiona’s morale.
Robert glanced at his wristwatch. “You said there was a train to catch?”
Eliot stuffed his moral misgivings into a dark corner of his mind to sort through later. “Yeah,” he replied, “there’s a secret entrance to the Night Train under the Market Street BART station.”
Sarah pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll have a cab meet us outside the Front Gate.”
Before Sarah punched a single button, however, another phone jangled: an old-fashioned trilling bell inside Miss Westin’s office.
The sound went straight through Eliot’s skull and down his spine like a shock.
He jumped. And so did Fiona.
They looked at each other. Fiona’s eyes were wide and her pulse pounded along her neck. Both of them went still.
The phone jangled again (he swore this time louder and sounding impatient).
Eliot and Fiona together whispered, “Audrey.”
“She knows,” Fiona said.
Eliot wasn’t sure how they knew it was Audrey, or how they knew she knew what they were about to attempt . . . but he knew that feeling was right. Why else would she be calling Miss Westin at this exact moment?
There was a third ring—although this one terminated mid-jangle.
Eliot breathed a sigh of relief.
But an instant later, from inside Fiona’s book bag came the stirring notes of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries.” Her cell phone’s ring tone.
“Don’t answer it,” Eliot said.
Fiona pursed her lips, and he could see her mentally teetering back and forth, deciding . . . but then she nodded.
“Come on,” he told them all, “we don’t have much time.” He sprinted for the stairs.
They followed, running as if the building were on fire.
________
Eliot stared at the sign hung on the ticket booth window. He couldn’t believe it. All that convincing and cajoling, all the struggling to overcome the moral ambiguity of the situation . . . for nothing.
They’d ditched class, run out of Paxington, and caught one of the eco-friendly SF Green Cabs. (A wad of cash from Robert persuaded the driver to let them all squeeze in.)
They’d gotten to the Market Street BART station, tromped down the out-of-order escalator, and found the hole in the wall. After carefully crossing the tracks, they’d entered the breach and clambered down the steep staircase into the hidden Infernal train station.
Only to find the ticket booth abandoned, and a sign that read
All trains, including but not limited to: the Marshall Pass Express; the Six Pence; and Der Nachtzug (aka the “Night Train”) are hereby suspended due to civil conflicts in the realms they service. The management apologizes for any inconvenience this may cause, and full service