Scarlet

Twenty-Six

The underground platform was well lit and filled with androids and hovering carts ready to unload the train’s cargo. Scarlet followed Wolf into the shadows of another freight train. They waited until an android turned away before crawling up onto the platform.

Wolf grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the platform, ducking behind a cart loaded with crates. A moment later Scarlet saw an android roll into the car she and Wolf had just abandoned, its blue light seeping back out the door.

“Be ready to run when that train leaves,” Wolf said, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. Not seconds later, the train lifted up off the tracks and began gliding back into the tunnel.

Scarlet sprang toward the tracks, only to find herself being pulled back by her hood. She let out a strangled cry and slammed back into Wolf.

“Wha—”

He placed a finger to his mouth.

Scarlet glared and ripped her hood from his grasp, but then she heard it too. The hum of an approaching train.

It was on the third track out and blew past them without any indication of slowing, vanishing into the darkness again as quickly as it had come.

Wolf grinned. “Now we can go.”

They reached the other platform without any further run-ins, spotted only by a middle-aged man who watched them curiously over his port.

Scarlet checked her own port when they reached street level. The city was quiet in the still of morning. They were at the Gare de Lyon, surrounded by avenues of shops and offices. Though Wolf tried to hide it, Scarlet could tell he was sniffing for something.

All she could smell was city. Metal and asphalt and baking bread from a closed patisserie on the corner.

Wolf headed northwest.

The street was lined with imposing second-era Beaux-Arts structures and flower boxes hanging from stone-wrapped windows. An ornate clock tower stood in the distance, its face lit up and showing two broad pointed hands and roman numerals; below it stood a digital screen that read 04:26 beside an ad for the newest model of house android.

“How far are we?” Scarlet asked.

“Not far. We can walk.”

They turned left at a traffic circle, Wolf half a step ahead of her, hunched over like he was barricading himself. Scarlet’s gaze traveled down his arm, over the bandaged wound that no longer seemed to be bothering him, to his fidgeting fingers. She wanted to reach out to him, but found it impossible. She tucked both of her hands into her hoodie’s pockets instead.

There was an abyss opening up between them, cutting through whatever they’d shared on the train. They were almost there—almost to her grandmother, almost to the Order of the Pack.

Maybe he was leading her to her death.

Maybe Wolf was marching toward his.

She tilted her chin up, refusing to frighten herself with her own morose thoughts. All that mattered now was rescuing her grandmother, and she was so close. So close.

The ancient residences drew in closer to the road as they left the busy intersection behind. There was only the occasional sign of life—a cat cleaning itself in the window of a hat shop, a man in a suit darting from a hotel into a waiting hover. They passed a netscreen that showed a commercial for a shampoo that claimed to change the color of one’s hair based on their moods.

She already yearned for the solitude of the farm. That was the only reality she knew. The farm and her grandmother and her weekly deliveries. And now, Wolf. That was the reality she wanted.

Wolf quickened his pace, but his shoulders were squeezing inward again. Locking her jaw, Scarlet reached forward and grasped his wrist.

“I can’t let you do this,” she said, angrier than she’d intended. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll go on by myself. Just tell me what to do. Give me some indication of what I’m dealing with and I’ll figure something out, but I can’t let you go with me.”

He stared down at her for a long moment and she tried to see softness in his stark green eyes, but the warmth and desperation that had been so apparent on the train were now replaced with a cold resolve. He pried his arm away.

“Do you see the man sitting in front of the closed café on the other side of the street?”

She slid her attention off him and found the man sitting at one of the outdoor tables. One ankle was propped on his knee, his elbow dangling off the back of his chair. He was staring at them, and he didn’t try to hide it. When Scarlet caught his eye, he winked.

A chill crawled over her skin.

“Pack member,” said Wolf. “We passed another at the magrail station two blocks back. And…” He craned his head. “If the stench is any indication, we’re about to cross paths with another when we turn this next corner.”

Her heart was suddenly stomping. “How did they know we were here?”

“I suspect they’ve been waiting for us. They’ve probably been tracking your ID.”

That’s what people did when they ran away and didn’t want to be found—they cut out their ID chips.

“Or yours,” she murmured. “If they do have access to an ID tracker, then maybe they’ve been following you.”

“Maybe.” His voice was nonchalant and she realized this wasn’t news to him. Had he thought this could be possible? Was that how Ran had found them?

“We might as well go find out what they want.” Wolf turned away and she had to race to keep up with him.

“But there’s only three of them. You can fight three of them, can’t you? You said you could take—” She hesitated. Wolf had told her he would win in a fight against six wolves. When had those wild animals become synonymous with these men, this Order of the Pack?

“You could still get away. There’s still a chance,” she finished.

“I said I would protect you and that’s what I’m going to do. It’s pointless to discuss this any further.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Yes,” he said, the word biting over the synthesized noise of a music video on a nearby billboard. “Yes, you do.”

Scarlet darted in front of him, planting her feet. He stopped just shy of plowing into her.

“No,” she said. “What I need is to know that I’m not responsible for whatever they’ll do to you. You need to stop being stupid and get out of here. At least give yourself a chance!”

He peered over her head at some place in the distance. Scarlet tensed, wondering if he’d picked up on the presence of a fourth pack member, or even more. Gulping, she glanced at the man by the café, who was stroking his ear and watching them with obvious amusement.

“What’s stupid is not that I’m going to try and protect you,” Wolf said, pulling his focus back down to her. “What’s stupid is that I almost believe it will make a difference.”

He stepped around her, shrugging off the hand that reached out to stop him. Her thoughts teetered, knowing she had a choice. She could run away with him, leave the city, and never come back. She could choose not to go in search of her grandmother after all, and maybe save his life.

But it was not really a choice. She barely knew him. Despite the ache in her heart, despite everything. She would never be able to live with herself knowing that she’d abandoned her grandmother when she was this close.

She turned back only once, as they were rounding a corner, and saw that the man by the café was gone.

A block later, the memory of the Fourth World War caught up to them all at once. The scorch marks and crumbling facades of a city pummeled by war. There weren’t enough of the beautiful old buildings left to draw the interest of the conservationists, and the sheer amount of destruction must have been too overwhelming for reconstruction. Unable to demolish the city’s history, the government had left this quarter alone. The districts, though separated by only a few streets, seemed worlds apart.

With a gasp, Scarlet recognized the massive building stretching along the opposite side of the street, with its shattered arched windows and the statues of men in old-fashioned clothing, many with broken limbs and some alcoves missing their statues altogether. The Musée du Louvre, one of the few sights her father had taken her to as a child. The building, half collapsed on the west end, was too unstable to go inside, but she and her father had stood together on the sidewalk while he told her about the priceless artworks that had been destroyed in the bombings, or the lucky few that had become spoils of war.

Many had still not been found, over a century later.

It was one of the few pleasant memories she had of her father, and she’d forgotten it until now.

“Scarlet.”

She snapped her head around.

“This way.” Wolf angled his head toward another street.

She nodded and followed him without looking back.

Despite the district’s tarnish, it was clear that these ancient streets weren’t entirely abandoned. A small motel advertised “come stay the night with the ghosts of fallen civilians” in the window. A thrift store displayed headless mannequins garbed in a rush of vibrant fabrics.

At an intersection, Wolf paused on a concrete city square with a boarded-up entrance to the subway and a sign that indicated the platform was closed; the nearest could be found on the Boulevard des Italiens.

“Are you ready?”

She followed his transfixed gaze up to a towering, gorgeous building before them. Angels and cherubim stood guard at massive arched doorways.

“What is this?”

Wolf followed her gaze. “Once it was an opera house and an architectural marvel. Then the war came and it was converted into storage for artillery and, eventually, prisoners of war. Then, when no one else wanted it, we took over.”

Scarlet frowned at that word. We. “Seems a little conspicuous for a secret street gang, don’t you think?”

“Would you ever suspect something horrible was living inside?”

When she didn’t answer, he backed away, scrutinizing her as he approached the massive theater. Again, he asked, “Are you ready?”

Catching her breath, she examined the carvings—faces grim and beautiful, the chalky busts of men staring down at her, a long balcony missing half its balusters. Clenching her jaw, she crossed the street and marched up the steps that spanned the length of the building, past the silent, unpreserved angels, beneath the shadowed portico.

“I’m ready,” she said, eyeing the mess of graffiti across the doors.

“Scarlet.”

She turned to face him, surprised by the gruffness in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

He was careful not to touch her as he passed.

Her mouth went dry, warnings cluttering her head as Wolf pulled the nearest door open and stepped into the shadows.