The Rain (Part III of the Runner Series)

Chapter 38

Leaping up the side of the nearest building, I scramble to it's roof. My old playground stretches out before me, disappearing up the hill and into the Vane's inferno. Positioned amongst the clouds, I roll my shoulders to loosen them and take off.

The rooftops disintegrate into the distance and I have to rely on my memory to find my footholds. Setting a breakneck pace I run with total abandon, hurtling over ledges and throwing myself across the City's crooked alleyways. The Madam's unholy creation comes into view as I draw closer to the hill's highest point and I realize that the Palace's beautiful roof is gone. Pristine glass has been replaced by the Vane's utilitarian stature, it's silver point protruding from the wreckage.

Lightning performs it's catastrophic dance as I pass from the former Commons to the Court and plot my route to Meg. Tired muscles and tightened lungs are ignored and it dawns on me that for the first time in ages I am completely without a plan. For so long I've done nothing but plot and scheme and now...now I haven't the foggiest idea of what I'm doing. With no choice but to trust my instincts, I swallow my doubts and dive headfirst into the unknown.

One step at a time.

First problem: how to get inside? My eyes dart across the rapidly-approaching Palace gate. The span is too far to jump but scaling the wall increases the likelihood of getting caught. An idea sparks and I change direction, aiming for a particular roof. Landing in a crouch I look up and swipe an arm across my vision, straining to see through the pouring rain.

By the gods of second chances, it's still there.

I can't stop the smile from spreading across my face as I jog toward my old Palace escape route, running my hand along the rope that serves as a pulley system up to my former bedroom. This rope and it's handlebar was rigged and gifted to me by someone who understood how much I detest stairs. Wrapping my legs around the rope I begin to crawl hand over hand up the line, making it only a few yards before the wave of grief hits.

Screwing my eyes shut I tighten my grip and bear my way through the onslaught, trembling as a whispered fear works it's way to the surface. Whatever remains of Will is down there, somewhere.

You're stronger than you think. Gritting my teeth I restart my ascent and remind myself that there will be a time to mourn properly, but this is not it. The weight that comes with missing him settles in my chest and I have the clarity to marvel that it could be Will, of all people, who paved the way to Meg.

I force myself to climb carefully, mindful of the steep pitch and how every inch sends me further over the abyss. The gate passes beneath me and I catch a glimpse of the Brutes guarding the entrance to the Palace. Out of habit I hold my breath, despite knowing that they won't look up.

No one ever looks up.

The wind rockets my line back and forth. I readjust my grip and it isn't until a bolt of lightning loosens the stones from the wall across from me that I begin to reevaluate the wisdom of hanging from a rope during an electrical storm. Traversing the remaining distance at a reckless pace I finally reach the window, climbing through and dropping soundlessly to the ground. Crouched low I hold my dagger in a shaking fist, casting my gaze around the darkened room. The bed and desk are overturned but the damage looks to be the work of the Vane and not a Brute. It is several beats before I straighten, releasing my breath but not my weapon as I creep into the hallway.

The menacing shapes jumping out at me are shadows drawn by the exploding sky. I stay flat against the wall as I sidle toward the stairs, ears perked for any strange sounds. I know that the Vane is sealed into Meg's apartment on the topmost floor but Meg, herself...where would she be?