Nada's Escape: Fighters' lies

18.1 Keys

Finley leans against the doorjamb of Alex's house as we return from the lavender field, stalks of fragrant flowers in our hands. His clothes are dark, as if he's been training today.

"Does Finley know where we were going?" I whisper to Alex before we get in earshot.

"It's not for him." Alex replies quietly. We reach the edge of the tiny garden that separates the house from the path and Finley notices us, smiling.

"I didn't know you were going to keep her so late," he says, smoothly stepping aside to allow Alex access to her door. Despite the joking tone to Finley's words Alex doesn't answer, merely hands to Finley the bags of items we'd picked up from the marketplace.

"I hope you have a good night." Alex replies firmly and closes the door with a soft snick. I frown at Alex's manners, wondering if she's also feeling shaken by her trip to the sanctuary.

I shake my head to dispel thoughts of the caves beneath our feet and insist on carrying one of the bags. Though he clings to them in mild protest at first, Finley hands over the lightest one. I roll my eyes; as if I'm too fragile to carry a few knick-knacks.

"How was your day?" Finley asks, barely missing a beat. We walk side-by-side down the street lit by old-fashioned feyfly lamps.

"Eh," I reply, "After last night it was pretty boring actually." The pools of darkness cast by the flickering streetlamps are shallow and yet a chill runs down my back at the sight of them, reminding me of the hollows in the Sanctuary wall.

I fiercely attempt to distract myself by pondering what I can tell Macie about the allies. If they're all the same as Alex, I don't think that the ribbons plan is a trick.

Finley gestures down a gravel street I can't remember being down before, "I've sorted out some more appropriate accommodations. After all I'm no longer your sponsor..."

I nod, still distracted with dissecting the mystery of the allies' motivations. Perhaps there really is a spy in their midst, as Macie suspects. Then the council - or Josef - could be setting us up for a trap. What a perfect way to have all the girls swear the pledge.

A minute later I notice the crunch of Finley's steps beside me have ceased. I turn to find him stopped before the opening of a gravel cul-de-sac. His shoulders fall with a sigh and he sends a metallic bundle singing through the air. I catch the keys and, frowning, match the engraved number with the one painted on a fence post at deep within the cul-de-sac.

I gravitate towards the bungalow. Though worn with age, the little houses here all have quaint curlicues holding up awnings over the windows, peeping through the foliage of untended front gardens. The lamp in the middle of the cul-de-sac remains unlit, leaving the shapes colourless except where light creeps through from the main path.

"If you want you can stay here. It's yours." Finley explains. I nod, peering around the overgrown wattle to a baby blue cottage, paint peeling off the far corner. "In fact, the other bungalows in this cul-de-sac are free for use by the rest of the girls, so you can be close by."

The key slides so perfectly into the lock that they must be new, although the door creaks like a poltergeist as I push it inwards. The darkness yawns at me, and the air is stuffy and dusty. I scuttle backwards involuntarily, beginning to smell undercurrents of sweat, rust and blood, stoking fear in my belly.

I turn back to check on Finley and his eyes are down, a shadow over his features. I hesitate for a moment to intrude on his thoughts, but I am trapped between a rock and darker, harder place.

"Why don't you come in?" I ask in a strangely calm voice. Finley's head pops up, surprise growing there, slowly mixing with fear. His body seems to grow taller on puppeteer's strings.

"What is it?" His eyes flick from my face to the open doorway.

"It's alright." He presses, but his movements don't match the words. He drops the bags and moves around me urgently, sliding through the door. I hear the click-click of switches as he hurries through the house. The yawning mouth flickers out of sight as I squint my eyes closed and open them again. Why am I such an idiot? It's just darkness.

I follow through the door sheepishly, hearing Finley flick more switches beyond the first room. It's small, lounge and a kitchen alcove, sheets turning the furniture alien. Instinct tells me that through the sliding door in the far wall lies the bedroom, and possibly an ensuite. I hear the clatter of opening curtains within and move towards it, but Finley emerges like a bat out of hell, ripping open the curtains out here too. I sneeze in the ensuing dust storm, planting my feet so as not to stagger.

Finley marches up to stand before me like a regimental soldier and I can't help the dumb little smile that touches my lips. His face softens too then and he lets out a little laughing sigh. Gosh we've come a long way since Seven.