Brother to Dragons, Companion to Owls - Jane Lindskold [47]
We are descending into a dark alleyway when Grey Brother shakes himself.
“Peep, pick up Chocolate and Bumblebee—no, she’s gone—Chocolate, then, and the two of you take Head Wolf to the Cold Lairs. Edelweiss is there. She’ll know what to do for Head Wolf.”
“Okay,” the boy nods. “You’re not coming?”
“No.” Grey Brother shakes his head. “Me an’ Midline are going to make sure the Jungle’s clear.”
I struggle for words; fortunately, Grey Brother sees my expression.
“Wanna come, Sarah?”
I nod, smiling.
“Count me in, too,” Professor Isabella says.
A grin quirks Grey Brother’s face. “Might be kinder if you went with Peep. Edelweiss and the rest will want to know what’s been going on and Peep can’t tell them. Y’know?”
“I know.”
The hovercat comes down and Professor Isabella leans back so I can climb over her and out. She puts an arm around Head Wolf’s still limp body.
“Closer than this scoundrel would let me get if he were awake,” she chuckles. “May as well enjoy it. Mind Sarah, now.”
“We be of one blood, she and us,” Grey Brother answers, swatting Chocolate as the boy takes the seat Midline has abandoned. “We’ll mind her, best as one can in a war.”
“War?” Professor Isabella looks down as the hovercat begins to rise. “What do you know?”
“All I need to,” Grey Brother waves. “Someone wants one of ours and they will hurt any of us to get her. That’s war as I see it.”
Ten
THE GRAVEL ROLLS UNDER MY FEET AS I RUN BESIDE GREY Brother, a familiar gritty grind of asphalt and granite from forgotten roadways and footpaths. Around us the tanks loom, mesas within the canyon of empty buildings. Once this canyon had been a home. Tonight it is an alien landscape of dark steel and darker shadows.
I pick out the tank that had held the Jungle off to the edge of the canyon. There are a dozen ways that could have brought us in closer, but Grey Brother chose this one after speaking with one of the Four.
Even Abalone does not argue with him, but lopes alongside, her tappety-tap thumping against her hip. Occasionally she reaches and adjusts the padded nylon case and then smiles at me.
I think she means to reassure me, but I am chilled by the feral glimmer in her eyes. So long she has been my Baloo, little thief, little hacker, I had forgotten the bare-chested child of the streets who had rescued me.
We draw nearer to the Jungle without seeing anyone. This is not good. Grey Brother had sent some of the Four in with Midline from another angle. We should have rendezvoused by now. I feel a metallic bite of fear. Midline would have sent someone if he could not have come himself—a Tail Wolf, a Cub, someone. This is bad.
Grey Brother has apparently reached the same conclusion. He leads us until we come to a smaller tank that faces the Jungle. The side is corroded, making a cave of sorts. He stoops and enters, hunkering invisible in the shadows.
We creep in next to him. Together we listen for any sound, look for any sign from the direction of the Jungle. For a long time there is nothing, then a flicker of light, bright only because of the surrounding murky darkness.
It is gone before we can pinpoint it, but my mind fills in the details. Something—someone—has disturbed one of the heavy curtains that cover the entries into the Jungle. At least some of the lights are on within.
Abalone mutters something angry.
Grey Brother whispers back, “Yes, they in there. They got the Four I sent on and more maybe. But how we get them out? They see us when we go in, even if we go by one of the Lesser Trails.”
“Lesser Trails?” Abalone asks.
“Yes,” Grey Brother laughs softly. “Secret ways that Head Wolf makes. Only some of us know. He not want us to be trapped by cops or gangs. Always someone there who knew the Trails and is sworn to bring the rest out if trouble comes.”
“Does