Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [252]
Edward met us in the hallway with Becca held in his arms. She looked pale and sick. Bruises had already started blooming on her face. But it was her hand that made me want to cry. That tiny hand that I’d held only days ago, while Edward and I swung her in the air. Three of the fingers looked crippled, at unnatural angles. They were swelling, the skin discolored. It was early for that, which meant they were bad breaks and wouldn’t heal easily.
She said, “Anita, you came to save me, too.” Her voice was high and thin. It made my throat tight.
“Yeah, sweetie, I came to save you, too.”
Peter and Edward stood staring at each other. It was Edward that reached out first, just his hand, because the arm was underneath Becca’s legs. Peter took that hand and hugged them both. His fingers hovered over Becca’s hand, and fresh tears fell down his face, but there was no sobbing now, just tears so quiet you wouldn’t have known he was crying if you hadn’t seen them.
“She’ll be all right,” Edward said.
Peter looked up at him, as if he wasn’t sure he believed, but he wanted to. But he stepped away from them, rubbed the tears from his face with his hands. “Can I have a gun?”
I opened my mouth to say, no, but Edward spoke first. “Give him your Firestar, Anita.”
“You’re kidding,” I said.
“I’ve seen him shoot. He can handle it.”
I’d been following Edward’s orders for a while. He was usually right but . . .
“If we go down, I want him armed.” Edward looked at me, and the weight in his eyes was enough. He didn’t want Peter and Becca taken again. If he put a gun in Peter’s hand, they’d kill him not torture him. If the worst happened, Edward had decided how the boy would go out. And, God help me, I agreed.
I pulled the gun out of the band of my jeans. “Why the Firestar?”
“Smallest grip.”
I handed it to Peter, feeling vaguely like a child molester myself, or maybe a corrupter. “It holds nine if you carry one in the chamber. It’s only holding eight. Safety’s here.”
He took the gun and popped the clip out to check it, then looked vaguely embarrassed. “Ted says to always check if something’s loaded.” He popped the clip back in, put a round in the chamber so it was ready to fire.
“Try not to shoot any of us,” I said.
He clicked the safety on. “I won’t.”
Looking into his eyes, I believed him.
“I want to go home,” Becca said.
“We’re going home, honey,” Edward said.
Edward led the way around the corner still carrying Becca. Peter went next, and I brought up the rear. I didn’t burst anyone’s bubble, but I knew we were a long way from safe. We had Simon and the rest of his men to get through, not to mention Harold and Newt and the local guys. Where were Russell and Amanda? I was really hoping to see them before we left. I’d promised Peter that she would never hurt him again. I always keep my promises.
60
THE HALLWAY SPILLED OUT into a large open space. Edward stopped, and Peter and I did, too. Becca was still being carried, so she didn’t have much choice. I kept an eye on our back trail and waited for Edward to decide what to do. I couldn’t see how big the open space was, so I figured it was big enough for Edward to worry about us being out in that much open. He finally moved slowly forward, hugging the left-hand wall. When I could see the room clearly, I realized why he’d hesitated. It wasn’t just this huge open space. There were three tunnels leading off to the right, dark mouths where anything might lurk, like Simon and the rest of his men. But there was a fourth opening with stairs leading up. Up was what we needed.
I walked with my back to the solid wall behind me, trying to keep an eye on the hall we’d come out of and the three tunnels to the right. I left the stairs to Edward.
The stairway was narrow, barely broad enough for two slender people to walk abreast. It wound upward and had a sharp angle at the top, a blind corner. I kept watching behind us, because I knew that if shooters came up behind us, and in front of us