Page 144 of The Secrets of Jane: Reborn
“Up that path, head through the gates, then it’s a long walk east, right at the base of the castle. Their buildings are right on the cliff’s edge.”
Perfect.
Jane’s blade slides through his neck. His blood fills the grooves of the roses, and I help him down onto the floor without making much of a sound before cleaning the blade on his clothes. First barrier is out of the way.
I slowly move back to the line of mercenaries waiting on me, motioning for us to continue forward. We move along the walls of the cliffs, just as the map indicated, until they drastically reduce to reveal a dirt road, firelight more clear now in the distance as we can see smoke.
Nowthatis a full camp, and the shadows of night can no longer shield us there. I lift my gaze up to the tall tower still visible from here, where I can feelher. To the castle whereI know Anya took her last breath, and where Jane fights for survival.
I come to a stop and get in Bones’s ear. “The mages are exactly where we saw. We need to move past this and keep going. Should be dark up ahead, then we climb the cliffs.”
We both touch each other’s shoulders, and connect our gazes with a small nod, before I move forward and start the procession.
There was one building on the maps that was labeled as an apartment, one of the only ones along the cliff walls with no battlements. To which I brought rope and a grapnel. We’ll climb the rocks to reach the blankest room that I can sense out, and infiltrate from there.
My heart pounds so hard, and yet it’s alive with so much purpose.
One by one, we all cross into the darker path in this coverage of night, not an ounce of suspicion in these lands.
I’m here, Jane.
S O R E N
Iowe Liam after this.
It’s just as he said, they’re so fucking lax on security, the peninsula placing too much weight on Misery’s presence and the power of the fire mages.
Just as the objects created to alter my powers caught me off guard, the mages vastly overappreciate their capabilities.
I’ll gladly fucking remind them that they’re not impervious.
Climbing up the frozen, jagged walls, it’s one hand after another, the stone weathered and slick from the sea spray below. Thankfully, it’s not very high. The building we’re targeting is right on the edge of the small cliff. Windows exist like patches of darkness, unevenly spaced; they don’t even have any glass in them.
I’m honed in on one that feels like the room is empty. I take a grappling hook and toss it up to the window ledge, catching it with a solid clang. I test the line—taut and steady—then swiftly scale the smooth surface of the building, every muscle burning with focus.
It’s empty inside.
The wind whistles past my ears as I climb in. I grip the rope, pulling it into the room so I can use what’s left at my waist to add additional length, knotting it tight. I search the room for a better anchor to handle more than one person at a time—a bed is right next to the window, and I wrap the rope through the framing, tying a knot and then tossing the rope out. Tension is placed on the frame, the bed creaking slightly as someone clearly climbs up. I stand against it to preventanyscratching of the posts on the floor, bracing my legs.
One by one, the room fills with more of our people, until a few sit on the bed to add weight so I can move forward through the old apartment.
Exiting the room and into a hall, I peer out a window that faces the street; a cleaner, sleeker version of Skull’s Row, and much smaller. My whole body stiffens as I see a circular object being held up, flames wrapping around it like it’s alive.
It’s about fifty feet away, but its presence burns in my gut like a warning. This placereeksof fire mage magic.
At least we’re in the right place.
I can’t help but feel like there’s another kind of person present here, the energies all mixing together, but there’s adisparity. Whereas most exude a burning dedication, there are those who are tired, angry, and trapped. Perhaps workers, maybe?
Looking back over my shoulder, it’s so dark it’s hard to see who is near me, until I sense the man I want. As if he can tell, Basilisk looks my way and moves over, his gaze intensely eyeing the stone as if he can read the details of the place. “Do you feel other energy?” I ask.
“I do. I don’t trust their lack of obsession; it’s an abnormality. Let’s get to them first.”
We slip through the hall after taking Donna with us, since she’s knowledgeable of these people. I come to a stop when that heavy sensation is powerful behind a door just to my right, a golden, glowing line below the door to signify light inside. It’s unlocked as I turn the knob; people are chained to the walls, their bodies slumped on cots, faces pale with exhaustion. Their eyes snap to us as we enter.
“Speak a word and we stab you all,” Basilisk says, almost lazily.
The captives remain silent, staring us all down.
