“You can use it skillfully, keep its point and edge away from your skin, or you can be harmed by it. So she’ll do as Danica requested, as Lewis requested. She’ll make some noise. They leave when darkness cloaks the city, when curfew begins and everyone settles into sleep. They wear black pants, black shirts, mash spit and charcoal into a paste and smear their faces and hands, working together. Ella isn’t letting Simon out of her sight, not after what happened last time. She’s not as careless... as Lewis. She won’t abandon those closest to her.“Worried about me, are you?” Simon says. “I like that.”“I just don’t want you to screw things up again.”The streets are dark and dead. They slide from alleyways to doorways, moving as quietly as they can from every pool and wedge of shadow. The moonlight feels like a spotlight. Their skin bristles with fear and excitement. They go still whenever they hear a noise—a rat scurrying, a snore spiraling from an open window—and then move on.When the city council wishes to share some announcement—about the curfew, rations, a death march—they paint it in black capital letters across the windowless wall that rises beside each of the Sanctuary’s wells.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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