"I'm not foolish," I said, more certain of anything than I'd ever been in my life.
The sound of the water was deafening. The back of my shirt was wet with mist. I wanted to wipe the water from my eyes, but I needed my hands in front of me. I needed to be ready.
"You don't want to do this, Cammie. We really aren't going to hurt you."
"I know," I said, and I did. Sort of.
"We just want to take you someplace - ask you some question. Help you . . . remember . .
. some things."
"I'm sure you do," I moved, and the rocks at my feet crumbled.
Mr. Solomon was dead.
Zach was dead.
Her own son was dead, and still she was chasing me and whatever secret I carried.
I had been studying Protection and Enforcement for five and a half years, but until that moment I'd never seriously thought what it would feel like to kill someone - until then I'd never wanted to.
"What?" she asked. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm trying to decide whether or not I should kill you."
She laughed. "You can't kill me."
But I could. At that moment I was so full of fear and rage and grief that I could have done it. Easily.
She laughed harder and stepped slowly closer, as if that wall of water and air were the worst possible fate.
And then Zach's mother leaned close, as it confiding, and said, "It you kill me, then who will take you to your father."
She lunged for me, but I was the one who no longer had anything to lose.
And before her words had found a place in my mind - before the Circle Operatives who were rushing down the tunnel could reach us - I thought about the ravens, and I spread my wings to fly.
Chapter Forty-Two
The jump didn't kill me, in case you don't already know.
I remember breaking through the falls.
I remember fresh air and the cold wind and thinking I could fly.
And then there was the crash and the freezing currents that fell over and over and over me like a blanket I was trapped inside as I fought to break free.
And then there was nothing. No more blankets. No fire. No heat and cold.
And for the first time in months I slept and did not dream.
"Cammie!"
I heard my name echo through the night, riding on the wind. My body ached. My clothes clung to me, heavy and wet. I could hear the river and the yells and something else, a voice inside of me telling me it wasn't safe. The Circle was still out there.
I had to move. I had to hide. I thought about the last thing Zach had ever asked of me: I had to keep running and I could never, ever look back.
Not when I heard the helicopter.
Not when I saw the spotlight sweeping across the open ground along the river and then burning me, holding me steady in its glare.
Not when I heard the deep voice yell, "I have her! She's here!"
Not when the strong arms wrapped around me, and someone said, "Hold still."
Not even when the black chopper landed on the ground in front of me and my mother flew from its open door.
I had to keep running even then, but my feet no longer met the ground. I tried to fight, but the arms that held me were too strong.
"Rachel," Agent Townsend said, still gripping me.
"Cammie, sweetheart, stop fighting," my mother said as my teacher carried me beneath the whirling blades.
Chapter Forty-Three
It was loud inside the helicopter. I tried to move, but the entire right side of my body was on fire.
Fire.
"Mr. Solomon," I started, but the words were strangled in a cough, as if my lungs had carried the explosion with them.
"Zach . . ."
"Sweetheart, your shoulder is dislocated. There's going to be a great deal of pain when the shock wears off."
What shock? I wanted to say, but I reached for my mother's hand instead.
"Dad," I whispered. "She was going to take me to Dad."
"She's hallucinating, Rachel." Agent Townsend was talking above me. He and my mother were talking about me.
"He's alive!" I bolted upright and a pain like I'd never known shot through me. "They're dead," I mumbled, but everything was swirling, fading into black.
* * *
Upon admission to the Gallagher Academy infirmary, Operative Morgan was poked, prodded, shot, scanned, x-rayed, and bandaged.
She was not, however, questioned, interrogated, debriefed, or told what the heck was going on.
"Mom?" My voice was so scratchy, I barely recognized it as my own. "Is my mother here?"
"No." Someone behind me spoke. I heard the door close, watched Agent Townsend walk to the foot of my metal bed. "She isn't."
"I want to talk to my mother."
"She can't be here at the moment, Ms. Morgan. I'm afraid you'll have to start with me."
"I can wait."
He smiled. "But I can't. You see, I have a plane to catch."
Okay, so maybe it was the drugs they had me on, but that almost sounded like good news.
I tried to sit upright, but my body didn't want to obey. My shoulder ached, and my right side was one continuous, massive bruise.
"Nothing's broken," he said, as if it were a miracle, and I guess it really was. "But you're going to be sore for a while. The fall dislocated your shoulder and you inhaled a lot of smoke, but you're going to be okay, young lady."
He sat down in the metal chair at the foot of my bed. "Now, tell me what happened in the tombs."
I told him everything - I really did. From finding out the truth about Blackthorne to the sight of the Circle dragging Mr. Solomon back to the place that, in a way, had started it all.
I told it in detail and in order.