Class Reptilia

Ember lay low on the roof. The shingles, cool in comparison to the outside air, dug into her stomach. She was aware of the heat signatures of the other five Linnaeans pulsing reassuringly, but Kairo was the only one she could see in her periphery. Like the rest of them, he was swathed head to toe in black, with a mask fitted over his nose and mouth. His eyes glowed in the grey-black darkness.

Blackstone tapped the shingles, and the group darted forward, running in a half-crouch across the slanted roof. Below, the streets of the warehouse district were deserted, save a handful of drunkards sleeping off the night's excesses. Even though they carried only the essentials, Ember's thighs burned from the constant starting and stopping, and her muscles were shaking when the abandoned factory finally came into sight.

They crept even more slowly, avoiding the eyes of any patrolmen on the ground, before coming to another obstacle: a fifteen-foot gap between the buildings. Kairo took it first, effortlessly, touching down catlike on the other side. He helped cushion Blackstone and Lilith's landings, and he caught Callia around the waist when she slightly misjudged the jump.

That left Orthus and Ember alone on the roof. Orthus went first, his brow scrunched in concentration, and launched himself over the edge. Ember could tell from the moment his feet left the shingles that he hadn't gotten enough air, and she rushed forward, a panicked gasp escaping her lips—but Kairo was waiting with his arms outstretched, and he managed to grab the front of the smaller Linnaean's tunic and haul him to safety.

Ember took a deep breath, steadying herself. When the others had settled on the other side, she took a running start and cleared the gap easily. She grinned as she landed, momentarily heady with the weightlessness and the sense of danger; but when Kairo wrapped his hands around her bicep and squeezed, the press of claws snapped her out of it. She ducked her head, embarrassed for letting her inexperience get the best of her.

Luckily, the roof of the warehouse was flat and very wide, making it difficult for anyone on the ground to catch sight of them even if they stood up straight. At Blackstone's direction, the caracal belly-crawled to the edge and looked down at the street below. "Just two guards," he reported upon his return.

Blackstone nodded. "Keep watch. The rest of you, stay with me," he directed, leading them to the center of the back of the roof, where Lilith's map had indicated the maintenance hatch was situated. They found it remarkably as expected—rusted with disuse, with an equally feeble padlock that Orthus picked with ease.

There was a pause as they all looked at the door, now the only barrier between them and the inside. Ember swallowed. It feels a little too easy, doesn't it?

"Strike while the iron is hot," the commander muttered, and without further ado, he gripped the handle and pried open the hatch. Ember grimaced as the hinges groaned, but there was no answering noise from inside. Through the opening, she could see a long hallway, lit only by the light of the moon and stars overhead. It was perfectly quiet. She was reminded inexplicably of the time she had faced the margay in the forest, and she recoiled.

It was a small comfort when, as they had discussed in the safehouse, Lilith took her rat from her pocket and dropped him through the hatch. He plopped on the wood floor and scurried away down the hall, and although it felt foolish, Ember recited a silent prayer for his quick return.

The minutes ticked by, each one seeming longer than the last. Ember tried to stay optimistic, and twice she even thought she heard the pattering of little feet—but the rat did not return, and when she broke down and looked at Lilith's expression, her hope drained away like water from a punctured waterskin.

"Perhaps he had a problem getting back up here?" Blackstone suggested, breaking the silence. Ember thought he had a point; after all, the hatch had no ladder.

Lilith shook her head. "No, rats are experts at navigating walls and air vents. But we're partners, not master and servant. He might have found something more interesting than me."

It was obvious that she was unconvinced. Blackstone rubbed his eyes, thinking it over. "We'll proceed with caution. I'll go first, then Lilith, Ember, Orthus, and Callia in the rear. Okay?"

Everyone agreed, and he lowered himself through the hatch, dropping onto the hallway floor with a muffled thump. He stood slowly, as if expecting guards to come storming around the corner, but nothing stirred. He faced them and waved Lilith forward.

One by one, they entered the top floor of the warehouse. The feeling of wrongness amplified twofold when Ember's feet touched down—with walls between her and any would-be enemies, her infrared was useless, and she felt exposed without it. She wished, too, that they hadn't sacrificed Kairo to watch duty, no matter how excellent his night vision.

There was nothing to do but walk carefully down the hall. If Lilith's map was correct, the stairwell was at the other end, with smaller rooms to their left and the large carding room to the right. The first door they came across had been left ajar, and Blackstone eased it open, revealing what may have been a storage room: cardboard boxes were pushed up against the walls, covered by a generous layer of dust. They moved on quickly, aware of the many rooms left to search.

On the right side of the hallway was a set of double doors, each one five feet across. "The carding room," Lilith affirmed. She pushed one large ear up against the wood, then shook her head. "Nothing."

Blackstone eased open one of the doors. Inside was a very large room, lined on two sides with dirt-streaked windows. The abandoned carding machines—giant wheels covered in gears—loomed eerily in the low light, and although Ember wasn't superstitious, she half-expected the ghost of a working girl to be feeding fiber to the licker-in.

The Linnaeans had guessed that the captives would be kept in the basement or on the third floor, but a collective sigh still went up when there was no sign of them. The commander and Callia were already halfway out the door when something (perhaps a faint tap, or perhaps nothing but instinct) drew Ember's attention to one of the far windows.

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With one last look back at her companions, who were focused on leaving, Ember crossed the room to investigate. Her heart had taken to beating a near-frantic rhythm in her chest when she saw the bird on the windowsill. It had white and rust-covered feathers, with a round, heart-shaped face that seemed luminous in the darkness. It looked at her with coal-black eyes, and then it turned and swooped away.

Ember watched it with fingertips pressed against the cool glass of the windowpane, too unsettled to move. It was not the first time she had seen what the mainlanders called a hobgoblin owl—they were tolerant of the city and sometimes perched in church windows at night—but they were rare enough that its appearance was hard to write off as a coincidence.

Something was wrong. She felt it with certainty, even if she didn't know exactly how the pieces fit together. She wanted, almost overwhelmingly, to catch up with the others and tell them that they had to leave. But what would I say? That I've seen an omen?

Then, suddenly, it all made sense, and without thinking, she was elbowing past Orthus and Callia to reach Lilith's side. "Lilith," she hissed urgently, "what exactly did you overhear the Holy Order say about the spy?"

"Not now, Ember," Blackstone warned, but she ignored him to look pleadingly at the rat-Linnaean.

"Please. The exact words."

Lilith's eyebrows drew together. "They said the Linnaean spy had been moved here, to the converted factory, and that the deacon should-"

"Linnaean? You're sure?" Ember asked, breathless with white-hot adrenaline.

"What's wrong?"

"The Holy Order never calls us Linnaean," Ember explained. "Only beasts, or monsters, or demons. And the owl…" she shuddered. "Their owl ate Lilith's rat. We're being hunted. We have to get out of here right now!"

To his credit, Blackstone didn't hesitate. He grabbed Ember and Lilith by the shoulders, spinning them around and pushing them back toward the end of the hall. "Go," he ordered, looking over his shoulder, "quickly!"

Ember and Callia were first to reach the hatch. "You go," Ember said, knitting her fingers together to create a step, but the vermes shook her head.

"No! I can heal from most wounds, so I'll help from down here and you from above!"

Ember nodded, instantly understanding, and with Callia's help, she grabbed the lip of the hatch and pulled herself up and out. Orthus was right behind her, and with the vermes pushing and her pulling, Ember was able to haul him onto the roof in a tangle of limbs. At the same time, Kairo arrived at their side, reaching down to rescue Lilith. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a trap, we have to-" Ember started to say when the sound of a door slamming came from further down the hall, accompanied by the pounding of dozens of pairs of boots. There wasn't even a second to react before the quiet night was split by a series of cracking explosions—a too-familiar sound that reverberated through Ember's entire body, making her withdraw from the opening as if burned.

Everything was chaos. Someone—or many someones—were yelling. Bullets were pinging off of the walls. Callia cried out in pain, but Blackstone lifted her up until Kairo was able to grab her around the shoulders.

"Leave me!" Blackstone ordered, strained, but Kairo refused.

"Jump, now!" he shouted, and he risked sticking his upper body back through the opening to catch the commander. The others held down his legs, and together, they pulled Blackstone to safety. The moment he was clear, Orthus slammed the hatch shut.

Ember staggered to her feet. The sounds of bullets, only slightly muffled, were still coming from the hallway below. It felt as if the whole building was shaking. There was blood everywhere on the concrete roof, slick under her feet, coating her and the others so that it was hard to discern its origin.

As the Linnaeans struggled to separate, Ember could finally see more clearly: blood was leaking from a gunshot wound in Callia's shoulder, and Blackstone was leaning heavily on Kairo, favoring his left hip. They had less than thirty seconds of respite before the terrible, sharp sound of bullets against metal filled the air—the guards had started shooting the hatch door. Worse, in the brief pauses between rounds, a rattling could be heard coming from the side of the building. "They're coming up the fire escape!" Kairo yelled, his bright eyes wide with fear.

"Go, go, go!" Blackstone yelled, and then, somehow, they were running across the roof again. Bullets sprayed at them, pops in the darkness that rushed past their heads in silver streaks. Blessedly, most missed by far (the guns weren't accurate, and the humans couldn't see well in the darkness), but a few came dangerously close. Ember just kept going, one foot in front of the other, and prayed that no one would fall.

The next few minutes were mayhem. Ember didn't know where they were going, and sometimes she didn't even know who was leading. They made up for the slowness caused by Blackstone's and Callia's injuries with unpredictability, jumping from roofs to fire escapes to balconies and scrambling through open windows. It was impossible to follow them from below in the winding, dark streets.

Some time after they had lost their pursuers, Ember regained her wits. Orthus was already looking at her, and she realized that it was now or never—they were past the worst of the danger, and no one could stop them from defecting. If she let herself follow the party back to the safehouse, it would be difficult to slip away even if she could find the courage.

So Ember just stopped and let the others jump the next gap. She knew that she should turn away, but she couldn't help but trace their silhouettes: Lilith, shaking but determined; Callia, holding her bad arm against her body without a single complaint; and Kairo supporting the commander in the rear. For a moment, her guilt was all-consuming, but she wrestled it into submission. They will be okay. Callia will heal, and the doctor will care for Blackstone.

But then Kairo stopped, the gap like a chasm between them, and tilted his head at her. 'What are you doing?' he asked silently, and she could only shake her head in response. Betrayal bloomed across his face, stabbing deeply into her chest, and she wished that she had risked leaving some sort of explanation back at the safehouse for the others to find.

Orthus tugged at her arm, but she still couldn't turn away. Blackstone, ever practical, was telling Kairo to move on without them, and she could see his fury on his face. Out of desperation, she twisted her right fist over her heart in Mendel's salute. I'm sorry, she tried to convey. I have to do this. I haven't betrayed you. Please, be safe.

And then, finally, she turned around and left them behind.