Page 115 of The Art of Exiley

There’s an unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching from the direction we came. We need to hurry. I consult Georgie’s map on my phone for an alternate exit. A door slams. Heavy steps are coming our way. Fast.

“Rafe,” I prompt, as calmly and reassuringly as I can.

He pulls the trigger.

The collar falls away, and the flesh beneath is red and swollen. With the antimatter off her body, Hypatia sighs deeply, and I watch as the skin heals itself, leaving only a thin pink ring of scar tissue behind.

“Thank the Conductor,” Rafe breathes. “It must not have been on for too long.” I remember what Michael had said when he’d rescued me from the gloves, that prolonged exposure to antimatter can make a Sire lose their ability to conduct. “Are you okay?” Rafe asks Hypatia.

“I’m thirsty,” she rasps weakly.

“You’re safe now. I promise.” Rafe chokes on his words as he returns the magneto gun to his bag.

According to Georgie’s map, the only other way out without going back down the hall is up. There’s a window in the cell, but it’s too far to climb, and even if it weren’t, we couldn’t make it in time.

“I can make that climb,” Rafe says. “I’ll bring up Hypatia, then come back down for you.”

“Are you crazy? There’s no way you can do that, never mind holding us and your bag!”

“I can.” He flexes his arms, and I see the rippling muscle and the throbbing veins in his neck. I remember the stolen blood running through him. I look away.

“Take Hypatia and go. There’s no time for you to come back for me, but I’ll be fine. They won’t hurt me. I’ll meet you at the boat.”

“Are you sure you’ll be safe? I can outrun them, even holding both of you.”

“Go. I need to find out what’s really going on here before I leave.”

With that, he slings his bag over his shoulder and bends low. Hypatia climbs onto his back, clinging to his neck. As if she weighs no more than a pillow, he springs upward, jumping way higher than an average human can, and catches the ledge of the window with his fingertips. He pulls himself up, and then, supporting his entire body—and Hypatia’s—with just one arm, he uses his leather-jacket-clad elbow to smash through the window. Sheesh, I guess he wasn’t exaggerating about the effects of blood doping. Within seconds, he’s scrambled through the window, and they’re gone.

Moments later, four security guards approach, blocking my exit from the cell. They’re followed by Alfie. His tie of the day is a mustard and purple striped monstrosity.

Alfie assesses the broken window and missing prisoner. “Find them, and get the girl back,” he says to the guards. “I can take care of this one.” The guards hurry off the way they came.

I try to push past Alfie. “Take me to Kor or whoever else from the Inner Chamber is here,” I demand.

“Not a chance.”

“What’s your problem?” I shove him, but I don’t have much leverage while trying to avoid touching the antimatter bars.

“Why would I helpyou?” Alfie sneers. “You’ve turned out to be the traitor I expected all along. The only place you’re going is into one of these cells and staying there until my father gets here.”

Oh,hellno. I guess I’ll have to find someone reasonable on my own. I turn to check if there’s anything in the cell that I can use to my advantage. Nope. When I swivel back around, Alfie’s eyes blink upward too quickly, and I’m pretty sure he was checking out my butt. It does look good in these jeans.

“My eyes are up here, perv,” I say as I step forward so that we’re nose to nose. There’s probably some way to effectively use my Ha’i to get past Alfie, but I stick to what I know best and knee him straight in the balls. As he grabs himself with a satisfying shriek, I push past him and run.

He doesn’t catch up with me until I’m already up the stairs and out of the building. As I stumble through the dark overgrown landscape, he comes barreling into me, tackling me to the ground. And then he unceremoniously sits on my back to keep me down.

“Get off me! What are you doing?”

“I’m apprehending you, traitor.”

He has a rope and seems to be contemplating whether he should use it on my hands or feet.

“I’m not a traitor, idiot. Just call Kor or my mother. I can explain everything.”

“If you want a positive result, perhaps you should speak more respectfully.”

“Respectfully? You are literallysittingon me.” And he’s heavy. My attempts to push him off are proving utterly futile.

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