have turned into a combat mission. I know this was your first time in the Fringes. I know Skandar’s a bad influence, but you need to think of the consequences, Fisher. This isn’t a game!” She lays her hand on the pouch, further muting the green glow from inside. “This is what it’s all about, Jesse. Not your nursery-school curiosity.”
I ball my fists, eager to punch something. “Yeah? Well… ” I struggle to find a comeback, something to get her off my case. “I just fell off a building!”
Her face falls flat. “That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever-”
“No,” I start. “It’s true.” I point to the rooftop. “See that building? I just fell from the very top all the way to the ground and I don’t have a scratch on me. What do you have to say about that?”
She glances up, then back to me, and shakes her head. Then she punches my left shoulder. Hard.
“Ow! What did you do that for?”
“You’re not invincible, Fisher. Grow up.”
I rub my shoulder, glaring at her.
“Now let’s find Skandar and get out of here before you bring the whole Unified Party down on us.”
A gun cocks in the distance. Eva spins around immediately, stepping back until her shoulder touches mine.
Halfway down the block stands the Pearlhound, Cassius, pistol in hand pointed in our direction. Just my luck.
Neither of us heard him approach. He’s in one piece, though his shirt’s untucked and his tie juts down at a screwed-up angle. He takes two steps forward and stares at me, ignoring Eva.
“What did you do up there?” he sneers, eyes narrowed.
I shake my head. It’s all the explanation I’ve got.
Luckily, Eva’s all words. “Who are you supposed to be?”
His eyes meet Eva’s for the first time. “You must be the third Musketeer, huh? I’m sorry your teammates let you down, gorgeous.”
“You call me gorgeous again and I’ll rip your face off.”
That’s Eva. Mass charming.
She squints, crossing her arms. “That a government badge?”
“Madame’s finest.”
She chuckles. “I’m so sure.”
“So you’re the one with the Pearl.” He steps forward. “Hand it over, then.”
Her chuckle devolves into a full-blown snort. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”
His response comes in the form of a gunshot aimed an arm’s length from my head. I wince as the bullet slams into a building behind us. Cassius smiles. “You may be shooting to stun, but this is the real thing. Hand it over and I’ll let you crawl back to wherever you came from.”
I wait for Eva to react, to dupe him into thinking that she’s packing more than stun darts. Instead, she looks over her shoulder with an expression that would make a baby cry. “Your fault, Fisher,” she whispers, “your fault.”
She slips the pack off her shoulder and tosses it to Cassius. With it, we lose all hope of passing our super- secure mission. Not like dying’s a better option, but returning to the Academy empty handed isn’t exactly high on my list either. Mr. Wilson’s counting on this Pearl, and now because of my supreme lameness he’s gonna have a handful of nothing instead. Maybe death by road-splatter isn’t such a bad fate after all.
Cassius catches the pouch by the end of the strap and slings it over his back, keeping his aim steady. For a second I’m convinced he’s gonna shoot, but I guess he’s got some screwy sense of honor because he backs away instead and darts into the nearest alleyway, out of sight.
I wait until he’s gone to whisper to Eva. “Are we going after him?”
She turns to me, frowning. “With what? You’ve lost your entire arsenal, remember?”
“But the training mission-”
She sighs. “You didn’t seem too concerned about it twenty minutes ago when you left me alone in the alleyway with the Pearl Traders. Besides,” she takes off at a brisk pace through the empty street, “I’m not going to have you killed. Even for a Pearl.”
“Where are you going?” I follow.
“Skandar. We find him and we get out of here.”
“Oh.” I point to a rotting wooden door a few yards away. “He’s in there.”
Eva stops, resting her hands on her hips and looking at the entrance to the building. Like all structures in the Fringes, it’s a sorry reflection of what it used to be. Long planks board up the windows. The paint is mass faded and cracking. Two columns that had once supported a portico now stretch into the air, weathered down to round stubs at the top.
A fat, dark rectangle stains the space above the doorway where a sign used to hang. In its place is a black “x” about two feet in each direction, paired with a confirmation code designating Syracuse as a Fringe Town-part of the forgotten lands after the government set up the Chosen Cities. Several lines of spray paint cover the code numbers.
“Charming,” Eva says. “I can see why you two had to scurry off and explore this treasure trove.”
“It was Skandar’s idea,” I mutter as she pulls open the shaky door.
My eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness as we step into the entryway. Little more than strings of sunlight poke through cracks between the ancient, dust-caked blinds. Whittled-down skeletons of chairs lie in one corner of the room. On the opposite side squirms Skandar Harris, his hands and feet bound together by plastic bands.
He pauses as he notices Eva and me. Dirt from the ground covers his brown hair. A pair of cracked goggles hang around his neck. The floor’s been long since stripped of carpet. Only the wooden boards remain.
Eva shakes her head as she walks to the center of the entryway. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
He frowns, renewing the struggle with the bands around his wrists. “I nearly had him. Showed up outta nowhere.” Only a sliver of his British accent remains after living at the Academy for so long. Now it’s just a weird Skandar accent.
Eva kneels down next to him. “Maybe we should drag you home like this, roast you over a spit.”
He rolls over to smile at her, his faint freckles covered in a layer of dust and sand. “Have mercy, Eva.”
Her eyes narrow. “We lost the Pearl.”
His face hardens and he tilts his head to look over at me. “It was his fault. What’d you run up to the rooftop for, Fisher? It’s a dead end.”
“No duh,” I shoot back. But he’s right. I should have known better.
Eva sighs as she pulls a knife from her pocket and flips it open. “You were trying to lose him, right Fisher?”
“Yeah.” I stare at my feet. “That’s what I was trying to do.”
“Sure,” Skandar rolls over so Eva can cut the bands behind his back. “Take his side.”
“Trust me,” she lowers the knife and begins sawing through the plastic. “I’m not on anybody’s side. I’m embarrassed to be seen with the both of you.”
Skandar pulls his hands free as Eva moves on to his ankles. When she’s finished freeing him, he wobbles to his feet and shakes the feeling back into his hands. Red marks encircle his wrists. He only made them worse by struggling. I’d call Skandar Harris many things, but a quitter isn’t one of them.
“Hey Jesse,” he rubs the dust from his face. “How did you get out of the building? I never saw you come back down the stairs.”
Eva puts her knife away, glaring at me the whole time.
“I fell.”
He stands still for a moment before busting out laughing. “Off the rooftop? Good one.”
“No, it’s true. It didn’t even leave a-”
“Time to go, gentlemen,” Eva interrupts me. “And I use that word in the loosest of ways.”
She marches out the door without another sound. Skandar and I follow, resigned to our fate. Sure, I’m feeling mass lucky to be escaping with my life after all that just happened, but the trip back to the Academy isn’t gonna be filled with ice cream and sing-alongs. This was a test. I failed miserably.
“You really fell off the roof?” Skandar whispers as we shield our eyes from the baking sunlight.
