Under Cover of Darkness Read Online Free Page A

her face, as she twisted to look over her shoulder and her eyes finally took in more than just the mesmerizing fountain. Her mouth opened, those lips rounded to say everything that showed so clearly on her face, in her mind. Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—!
    â€œGo to Bodhan,” Galetia said, more roughly than she meant to as she pulled Alleksa away from the very grasp of the constables, trading places . . . shoving Alleksa hard enough to make her gasp, to send her reeling toward the crowd. Standing in the way with sad defiance—only an instant of it before she twisted her expression in a jeer and brought the change to the surface, deliberately flashing otherness within the very reach of the constables. Decoy.
    We’re away!
    She saw it on the faces of the constables—their realization that Alleksa was gone, their fury. They leaped for her, and Galetia slid out of reach, calling on all that frightened the citties to forge her own escape. No more than Alleksa could she be caught here, proving the very existence of her kind. If she made her way clear of the city, running out toward the mines and foundries, running nowhere near her beloved warrens . . .
    Once she lost any pursuit, she could rest . . . she could make her way below the city and across the ridges to the fall-back warrens. Just as would Bodhan, escorting Alleksa changed . . . Alleksa in control. Alleksa who reached out to her now, full of gratitude and sorrow. I am whole, thanks to you , she said. We will be safe; we will lead them far away when they follow.
    Perhaps Alleksa would be the one to escort Bodhan.
    Galetia spun away from the constables, reaching deep for the change, unable to truly overcome her wounded legs. Her hood fell away to reveal her touched features, to draw another gasp from the crowd. “Cursed!” they cried, several voices as one. And again—“Cursed!”
    No, blessed! She ran along the edge of the fountain, balancing on its narrow lip as the constables splashed awkwardly into the deep water, trying to cut her off. The elders spoke to her as one, a wash of pride and support and extra determination, although Galetia needed none. Alleksa and Bodhan were safe, and the Scoria had time to abandon the warrens, concealing them to start the waiting. Waiting to return . . . waiting until Alleksa’s strength could lead them to a new way of life. Galetia would have laughed out loud . . . had something not quite abruptly slammed into her ribs. Between her ribs.
    She had only a glimpse—the hunter, returned from the arena trail alone, bruised and battered and bleeding. Her hands clutched cold bone handle, cold copper, quivering deep in her side.
    She splashed backward into the water, sinking into its crisp grasp, eyes full of wet sparkle and light and the amazingly dark plume of her own blood.
    Sinking. Numbed and sinking and unable to fight it.
    No! Inner voices exploded into the sudden silence of water muffling her ears, crying out in communal agony. No!
    But it was Alleksa’s voice that broke in to override them all. Cool, as soothing as the water. The ache in Galetia’s lungs became as nothing; the spear of fire in her side faded away. We are here , Alleksa said, suddenly old for her years. We are with you. And you will always be with us.
    For the Scoria were never alone. The Scoria, dregs of this thriving city, took care of their own.
    And when Alleksa returned, the city would understand.
    Galetia did, and she smiled into the fading sparkle and light.
    Doranna Durgin was born writing (instead of kicking, she scribbled on the womb) and never quit, although it took some time for the world to understand what she was up to. She grew up attached to college-rule notebooks and resisted all attempts at separation. Eventually she got a college degree (Wildlife Illustration) and had grand adventures on horseback in the Appalachians before turning fulltime writer and