Wings (A Black City Novel) by Elizabeth Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

Destiny. “Are you guys with the
rebellion
?”
    “We’re not here to answer questions,” Garrick growls, flashing his canines.
    Scott holds his hands up. “Hey now, there’s no need for that. I’m on your side.” He points toward the Pilgrims outside his store. “Those freaks are scaring off my customers. It’s bad for busin—” He frowns. “Great, the Tin Men are coming. I hate these guys more than those weirdos outside.”
    Tin Men?
I turn. Marching across the square is a group of men dressed in metal-gray uniforms. They look like Trackers—the elite police force that specializes in hunting Darklings—but their uniforms are the wrong color. They head straight for the shop.
    “Get into the spy room,” Destiny says, shoving me and Elijah into the crammed space.
    Elijah grunts with pain as my elbow jabs into his stomach. I barely have time to turn around before Destiny slams the door, locking us in. The room is immediately plunged into darkness. It’s hotter than hell in here, making it hard to breathe, and I yank off my mask and take a few deep gulps of the musty air. Elijah fidgets behind me, his hand accidentally running up my back as he tries to get comfortable.
    A bell tinkles.
    Through the double-sided mirror, I watch five men enter the store. They all have shaved heads and are wearing dark gray garrison caps. The floorboards creak as they walk across the room in perfect unison. They ignore Garrick and Sasha, who are pretending to study the jars on the shelves. Destiny is by the counter with Scott. She stiffens when the squad leader approaches them. He’s a middle-aged man with pale skin and penetrating eyes that match the color of his uniform. Pinned to his chest is a silver butterfly medal. Who
are
these people?
    “Good morning, gentlemen. What can I do for you?” Scott asks.
    “We need a quart of Night Whisper,” the man says in a flat voice.
    “Gee, sorry, fellas, I don’t have any in stock,” Scott says. “I’ll have to order that from Centrum.” He reaches for his notepad and pen, and accidentally knocks over the jar of flaxseeds in the process. The heavy glass jar smashes as it hits the floor, scattering the golden seeds everywhere. Some of them skid under the thin gap at the bottom of the mirror-door, stopping by my feet.
Uh-oh.
Elijah clamps a hand over his nose and mouth, muffling the sneeze. The man’s eyes narrow and panic claws up my throat. Did the man hear it?
    “I’m such a klutz.” Scott chuckles nervously. “How much did you need again? A quart?”
    The squad leader ignores Scott and walks around the counter. He stops in front of the mirror. Our faces are just centimeters apart, separated only by the thin sheet of double-sided glass. I don’t dare breathe, terrified the smallest thing will give us away. Behind him, Destiny’s hand inches toward her gun holster. Light glints in the man’s strangely pale eyes. They have an almost metallic quality to them. He shakes his head. “You’re imagining things,” he mutters to himself, then turns away and addresses Scott. “Make it two. We need it by the weekend.”
    He joins the four other men and they leave. The instant they’re gone, Destiny opens the mirror-door and Elijah and I spill out, both gasping for breath.
    Scott stares at me. “It’s
you.
”
    I realize I’m not wearing my mask and scramble to put it back on, but the damage is already done. Garrick and Sasha quickly form a protective barrier in front of me. A low, throaty growl escapes Sasha’s neon-pink lips, and Scott wisely backs away.
    “You can’t tell anyone what you saw,” Destiny says to him.
    “My lips are sealed.” He pretends to zip his mouth closed.
    “Who were those guys?” Elijah asks, gesturing toward the shop door.
    “Rose’s new security force,” Scott says. “They’ve been kicking about the city for the past few weeks, scaring folk into giving them names of anyone suspected of anti-government sentiments.” He passes Destiny