As she went at an uneven run, she’d never hated her affliction more, but Thimble slammed into Stone before she’d gotten twenty paces. The collision knocked the breath out of her. He wrapped his free arm around her; he had Boy23 cradled in the other. Quickly, quietly, he leaned his forehead against hers. It was something they’d always done, a secret Deuce hadn’t shared, and with this furtive hello, they said a number of things. He conveyed affection for a brat-mate; she spoke of emotions that she wasn’t permitted to feel for him.

“If we stay, we’ll die,” she said quietly.

Running might result in the same end, however. The idea of going into the tunnels terrified her. She’d never left the enclave in her life, and her bad foot added another handicap to an already impossible situation. Freaks lived in the tunnel—inhuman and mad with hunger. She wasn’t overstating the danger. If Silk and her Hunters fell, they had no hope.

By his expression, Stone knew as much. “I can smell them.”

Thimble inhaled. The stink she’d noticed before had grown more intense; it was a deep rot, like a corpse ten days old and full of writhing larvae. It was more powerful than the other bad smells in the enclave, indicative of many monsters.

“They’re close,” she said.

Thimble shivered. She didn’t know how many Hunters remained, but the Freaks would come to investigate this area once they finished feeding on the others. Inaction would doom them.

“We have to try,” she whispered.

“Why?” His voice broke. “We’ve lost everything. There’s no point.”

She hated seeing him like this. His despair felt tangible, a cobweb drifting across her skin. “Not everything. You saved your brat. We’re alive, and Silk is fighting. Gather some supplies. I’ll go back to the workshop. Meet me here as soon as you can.”

“Do you think we have a chance?”

“I do,” she lied.

He was a Breeder. She was a Builder. How they could survive the tunnels and the terrible things lurking in them, she had no idea, but she wouldn’t consent to dying in the dark, either. Ideas were her specialty, so since their lives depended on it, she’d come up with the perfect one.

Just watch me.

Bravado carried her away from Stone into the darkness and back toward the Builder domain. Thimble found a number of useful, untested inventions, some of which were her own. She tucked them into a pack, trying to be quick. Medical supplies, potential weapons that didn’t require a lot of skill in the wielding, armor to make it difficult for Freak teeth and claws to penetrate. Many of these things had been intended for Hunter use, but they wouldn’t need them again.

Silk couldn’t win this fight. The conflict had thinned her Hunters too much, and the Freaks were numerous. Strong. Gorged on the flesh they’d claimed in Nassau. Even now, Thimble heard the battle waning. Wounded and weary, the Hunters would fight to the last man, to the last breath, but it wouldn’t be enough. College was lost. Conceding this ground didn’t feel like giving up, though. Not when she was feverishly planning for the future.

So hard to believe everything could change so quickly, but there was no point in wishing. She might as well wish to have her best friend back while she was at it, because Deuce had always known how to fight. Her facility with weapons might have saved Stone and Thimble, at least.

But she had to work with her own strengths, most of which seemed bitterly unsuited to surviving the tunnels. Still, she geared up in armor she’d meant to offer her friend as a gift; there had been no chance before Deuce went on the long walk. She was smaller than the other girl, so the laces had to be tightened. No matter. Thimble attended to it with grim determination. The leather and padding would keep teeth and claws from her fragile flesh.

If only my ankle was stronger.

Her foot—not that she ever let anyone see it—turned inward. She’d created a brace to keep it from failing under normal circumstances, but this escape attempt would require great endurance. Thimble didn’t know if she could keep up with Stone, but without her resolve, he wouldn’t go. She knew that. They had gotten closer since Deuce had been sent away, and he’d wept in Thimble’s arms.

“She confessed for me,” Stone had whispered.

At the time, it had seemed vital to pretend to accept that judgment in order to keep their society functioning while they sorted out some better alternative. But that deception had been for nothing. They might as well have staged the rebellion right then for all the good it did later. Now the old ways lay broken with nothing to replace them. Thimble wondered if the cruelties and restrictions had been worth the resultant safety—it was a tough question and not one she could answer.

Bigger issues were crashing around the enclave, killing survivors. As she gazed around at the workshop, the torch crackling, an idea dawned. Dangerous. Possibly hopeless, but better than not trying. A slow breath escaped her. The stench grew stronger, which meant she didn’t have long.

Thimble got to work.

Chapter 6

The noises terrified him.

Stone knew it wasn’t manly to admit it, even to himself, but he hadn’t been raised for bravery. Right then, he had a crushing weight of pain for all the brats he hadn’t protected. As a Breeder, he had only one job—caring for the young—and that he’d lost them to an unexpected Freak attack didn’t make the failure easier to bear. The idea of fighting again made him want to vomit. Maddening echoes of those he’d killed rang in his head. Not monsters. Citizens. But it wasn’t just his life hanging in the balance. There was Thimble to consider, also.

So he did as she’d asked and found provisions. In his arms, Boy23 shifted and made a small baby sound against his neck. He didn’t talk yet. Sometimes he blabbered nonsense, but since the fighting had broken out he’d been scared and silent. He hadn’t even entered basic brat training. That started at three, and at eight they divided into subgroups. At fifteen they joined the caste for which they’d trained. But none of that awaited Boy23; he wouldn’t even remember the enclave, provided they survived. That didn’t seem likely.

Yet he wouldn’t give up. Not when Thimble and his brat needed him. Right now, she was working her magic to try and save them. He could do no less.

In the warren on the way to the workshop, Thimble met him halfway. Her halting step gave her away before she came into sight, a torch blazing in her hand. He took a step closer to her, as she represented everything he had left. The familiarity of her narrow face with its wide eyes and pointed chin gave him hope; it fluttered in his chest with a tight sweetness. He wanted to reach for her as he’d always done, tucking her beneath his arm. He would feel better if he kept Thimble close.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said.

That was her specialty, not his. In fact, he wondered what purpose he could serve, other than making her feel less alone. He could carry things, he supposed. Stone was accustomed to packing two or three brats around, one in each arm, and sometimes one on his back as well. That had made him relatively strong, at least. Her Builder friends had said he had a fitting name, because he was as stupid as the smooth, flat rock his blood had fallen upon in the naming rite. With his free hand, he touched the stone in his pocket for comfort and reassurance.

“What can I do?”

Quickly, she explained and then handed him the supplies necessary for his part. Because Thimble seemed sure it would work, he didn’t waste his breath on doubts. Maybe that was what he could do, then: show blind faith in her abilities, because without them, they were both doomed.

The resistance from the remaining Hunters had fallen silent moments before. Now there were only wet sounds, smacking, chewing, and grunts of pleasure. Wordless, he scrambled up and tied the rope as she’d requested. Metal shards and scraps, coils, things he didn’t even recognize, she handled with great expertise. It raised his respect further. She was just so smart. He did little more than hold the light or secure something in place that was too heavy for her to manage, but the whole time, he knew how much of a race this was. If they didn’t get it done—

No point in imagining how things could get worse. The enclave was already in ruins.

They worked tirelessly. If the Hunters hadn’t been able to defeat the Freaks, what hope did they have in open combat? Simple. Then they wouldn’t fight. A wave of warmth and admiration sparked through him as they completed their preparations. Only Thimble could have looked at the scraps left in the workshop and come up with a scheme to save their skins.

After Stone finished, he handed Boy23 to Thimble; he didn’t need to tell her to guard the boy with her life. She would. She’d kept him safe once before. I can do this. His hand trembled when he took the torch from her. Light to drive away the dark.

“I wish I could—” she began.

Stone shook his head. “I’m fast. Comes from chasing brats all over the place.”

He didn’t mention her infirmity. Neither did she. Even if he’d been that much of a coward, she couldn’t finish the job. They’d be on her in two strides. With great effort, he calmed himself and focused on her dark eyes, gazing up at him with such confidence. She’d always looked at him like that, as if he was a little better than he knew himself to be. Maybe it was because during their brat-hood he’d thumped the ones who made fun of her. Soon, they stopped mocking her, at least within his hearing.

The noises drew closer. Feeding sounds—teeth tearing flesh. Movement stirred the air and carried a putrid stench. He’d never breathed it in like this before. A couple of times, in his early brat-hood, Freaks had pushed close to the enclave before the Hunters battled them back. There were no Hunters anymore. Just himself, Thimble, and Boy23.

Plus her brilliant traps.

No matter what it meant for his own safety, he couldn’t let anything happen to Thimble or Boy23. Somehow, some way, he’d get the two of them out of here. He smiled as he straightened, flaming brand in hand. Everything depended on his speed and his ability to remember where they’d laid the snares and trigger blades. His role was simple in comparison to the marvelous, deadly things she’d built

and so fast, too. He was bait, and he knew it.

The Freaks and Hunters had been fighting at the barricades. Deeper within, the enclave was laid out in sections: the brat dorm, the kitchen space, bath facilities, the fish pools, the Builder workshop, the common area, the Hunter lounge, and the living quarters for all citizens. The monsters sounded as if they’d reached the common area. Which meant they’d be in the warren leading to the workshop soon.

“Almost time,” she whispered.

“Hide.” It was the first time he’d taken that tone with her, the same one he used on the brats. Her eyes flared wide, but she obeyed, as the brats always did.

Time to run.

With an echoing clatter, an internal wall went down. Stone stood his ground, watching Freaks shove toward him. In the back, one of them scouted the situation, and then—inexplicably, it loped away. Before he turned, he glimpsed their mutated, monstrous features: pale skin cut with sores, yellow fangs, milky eyes, and bulging brows with sparse hair. Their bodies looked almost human: same number of eyes, arms, and legs, but their skin and their faces identified them as other. They raised their heads, scenting. They probably didn’t see well, so he waved the torch. Terror and revulsion wedged in his throat, but as long as feelings didn’t freeze him, it would be all right.

He waited until the first one ran for him, and then he wheeled, vaulting the snare, dodging right to avoid the spring-trap. The light in his hand blinded the Freaks, leaving them unable to mimic his path. Behind him, he heard the rope snap and the metallic clang, and then an animal growling in both pain and anger. He ran on, holding in his mind the deadly path they’d laid.