Gauntlet: Chapter 8

Clio wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or wary–but she returned his smirk with a rather vicious grin of her own. “I’m sure he doesn’t have one. Maybe I’ll carve out his ego instead.”

“It is a bigger target,” Black Jack agreed. “Pop it and he’ll probably ppbbbbplttt like a balloon.” His hand waved around wildly in illustration.

Clio laughed, and Black Jack laughed, too. On impulse, Clio stepped forward and hugged him tightly. He seemed startled, standing stiffly before he returned the hug with bemused indulgence.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, considering you got me into this mess to begin with…but it’s good to see you.”

“It wasn’t me,” he protested. “But I don’t have time to defend myself. You’ve got to move. The video feed is on loop right now, and August is dealing with…a diversion.”

Clio hesitated.

Shit always seemed to hit the fan when the Jacks showed up. Things changed. One thing she did know: anything was better than staying in that room for more of August’s idea of fun and games. Maybe she would let Black Jack cover her ass again, but she’d do it with her eyes wide open.

“What about Sunshine?” Clio prodded, still on her guard.

“Don’t worry about our friend Sunshine. He’s got his hands full, too.” Black Jack smirked. “I hate that guy. But we–”

Clio’s gasp cut off Jack’s words. “Are those my clothes?!” She rushed over to the bundle on the bed, which included her wonderful, beautiful boots. “Where did you get them?”

Black Jack eyed her strangely as she picked them up and hugged them to her chest. “Chance gave them to me.”

“Chance? Is he here?” All her suspicions revived, and she gaped at Black Jack. “Why would he–?”

“Who do you think sent me?” Black Jack said impatiently. “We’ve got to hurry, unless you want to wait around until August shows up.”

“No.” Clio shuddered.

“Then get changed. Fast.”

Clio did, gratefully shrugging out of the dress–that felt like a mark of shame now–and into her old clothes, which made her feel immeasurably better. God, how could she have been such a fool? Now that August had exposed himself, it seemed impossible that she’d ever been so blind.

“Finally ready, Cl-Cl-Clio?” Black Jack’s saucy grin was probably meant to provoke, calling her back to all those weeks ago, before she’d set foot in this place. “Need some time to do your hair and makeup?”

It worked. She’d come a long way from that hopelessly frightened person, even if some people still thought she was weak and clueless. She felt newly armed with her bubbling rage.

Clio scowled. “No, but I’m keeping these just in case I run into August.” She snatched up a handful of hairpins, and Black Jack laughed and reached for her.

They slipped out of the room, her hand in his. It reminded her uncomfortably of her escape with August from the center of the Gray Men. She pulled her hand away quickly, ignoring Black Jack’s questioning glance.

He didn’t stop moving, and they swiftly passed through the sterile corridors until they reached an outer door. It was still dark out, but Clio thought she could detect a faint lightening in the sky to the east. It must be close to dawn, she thought. Which meant she’d been in the room for five or six hours.

Black Jack pulled her into a narrow alley and led her along with sure steps. He hushed her with a warning sign every time she tried to speak, so they went along silently for a good half-hour before he finally slowed the pace.

“Listen,” he said softly. “Whatever you do, don’t go toward the gate. They’ll be looking for you that way. Find a place to hide and stay there. Chance will find you.”

The sky had lightened considerably during their walk; Clio saw that they’d arrived at the same little bridge Chance had brought her to not that long ago. She frowned her skepticism.

“Why would Chance help me?”

“I told you–he’s the one who sent me. He’s been helping you all along.” Black Jack cast a look at the sky, then a worried look back the way they’d come.

“What?” Clio’s brows knitted. “But…why?”

“You can ask him. I have to go.”

“No! Don’t go. You’ve got to tell me what’s going on and–”

“Sorry, Clio.” Black Jack playfully chucked her chin. “I wish I could, but I’ve got places to go, people to see. Can’t be rescuing beautiful damsels in distress twenty-four hours a day.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress,” Clio growled. “The deck’s just stacked against me.”

Black Jack grinned, but it faded fast. “I really have to get back. Just trust Chance. He said that you’d know what to do if I brought you here.”

“You told me not to trust anyone once,” she said miserably, turning away. “When I trust people, bad things happen.”

“Come on, Clio.” His mellow voice had an unusual edge. “Does everything always have to be so black and white with you? And what about Britt?”

The sharp question jerked her gaze to his. He nodded once and slipped away, despite her last, half-hearted protest.

Trust Chance.

Fat chance, she thought stubbornly. He didn’t even like her.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t being completely fair. He’d been cold, but not cruel. The major stick up his ass didn’t necessarily make him untrustworthy. On the other hand, he was August’s right-hand man, which put him squarely on Clio’s kill list.

But…she’d thought August did like her. God, she couldn’t even trust her own judgment. How was she supposed to figure anything out at this rate? The truth was, she’d finally absorbed the message Black Jack and Britt had tried to drill into her–don’t trust anyone. Her doubts weren’t really even about Chance, though she still didn’t get why he was helping her. She couldn’t trust anyone’s motives. Could she?

Yes.

Britt had always had her back. Clio’s feelings toward Black Jack were mixed, but he’d definitely been more of a help than a hindrance, even if he was only playing a part–and she knew he was, on some level. His part seemed to work in her favor, so she didn’t so much trust him as she trusted him to…move her forward and not backward. He’d spoken the truth to her so far, even when it was couched in riddles.

She wouldn’t ever forget that this was a game again. If there was one thing she’d learned from her humiliating experience with August, it was that. And if she considered the Gauntlet a game with pieces and rules, Black Jack could be trusted to a certain extent. So maybe, in that light, Chance could, too.

Clio stood at the top of the little bridge and sighed. Exhaustion was taking over; trying to puzzle through everything was a strain. All she wanted now was some rest.

The shadowy mass of buildings gradually resolved into distinctive shapes as dawn broke. She saw the tops of the towers Chance had pointed out–that day of their walk–against the pink sky. Black Jack’s words came back to her: Chance had told him that she’d “know what to do.”

Chance had called those towers a mystery. No one had been able to get in.

“This area is part of his daily rounds,” Clio whispered. A sudden certainty grew within her. “Did he know what would happen?” His weird emphasis on the towers made more sense if that were true, if he really intended to help her.

With the sun finally making an appearance in the warm colors near the horizon, Clio made up her mind. If she walked quickly, she could probably reach the towers in twenty minutes. She gave her bracelet a speculative glance and twisted her wrist from side to side. The charms jingled like a tiny chime.

It was a risk, but it seemed liked her best option, even if she remained wary of Chance’s involvement. At least, in some strange way, his abrasive bluntness felt comforting in retrospect–compared to the soft, meaningless nothings that August had spouted constantly.

And, Clio told herself with a touch of gallows humor, if Chance turns out to be a creep, it’s death by a thousand hairpins.

The towers were farther away than she thought, and Clio had to resist the urge to curl up in some empty building and sleep away the fatigue of the long, horrible night. When she finally arrived at the nearest one, it rose up even taller than it had seemed from a distance. The structure had no visible entry points, just as Chance had described. Low stone walls projected from each side of the tower and connected to adjacent buildings, leaving only the front half of the tower easily accessible.

A façade of large, irregular stones presented an impenetrable barrier. The stones were old, covered in some manner of small, cylindrical fossils here and there. The concrete seams separated the stone and helped form a haphazard design. She walked a slow arc around the base of the tower, her fingers along the rough lines. She was looking for something–a mark, a sign, an imprint. It would be around eye level, if it existed. At least, that was her logical conclusion.

Her eyes were bleary from lack of sleep when she finally found what she was looking for–a depression hidden in the shadow of an overhanging curve of stone, near one of the connecting walls. The small indentation was shaped like a tiny spade.

She lifted her wrist to the spot and pressed the matching charm into the groove.

“Yes,” she breathed in triumph when the impregnable stone in front of her opened onto a softly lit inner alcove. It held nothing but a small stairwell that spiraled upward.

Clio stepped inside the door and it closed behind her.

***

The tower housed her that day–and gave her some badly needed time to sleep. When she eventually ventured out to the town again, she tucked into a well-hidden cranny in an alley to watch the streets. She had a feeling her escape would result in…movement.

She eventually spied Chance from her hiding place and saw that he hadn’t come alone. Of course, if he was supposed be on patrol–most likely searching for her–then his men would be with him, but that wasn’t much consolation. She slipped through the shadows to follow them, her suspicions running high.

Only when Chance ordered his group to split up did she dare to move closer. Unfortunately, the twisting streets had mixed her up, and she had to hurry to find her way back to the bridge before his goons spotted her.

A narrow lane Clio had been sure led to an avenue crossroads instead dumped her into a dead end. She cursed and tried to re-evaluate what she was doing.

She wasn’t sure she even wanted to get to Chance. She’d had more time to reflect up in the tower, and she knew she was taking a risk, but Black Jack’s words had struck a chord. Neither Jack had ever given her a name of someone who could help her in the next stage, after all. Her knowledge of the Gauntlet and the confusing power plays therein had huge gaps, but maybe Chance had reasons for helping her.

If she ended up accepting the help offered, she would take it with a massive grain of salt. It sounded like Chance had betrayed August, maybe. And Clio couldn’t suppress the fierce desire to serve up August some of his own nasty medicine before she got the hell out of this place. She wanted to kick him right where it hurt with the boots Chance had returned to her.

No matter what, she couldn’t stay in that alley. She twisted around to retrace her steps.

Her luck failed her when Chance’s two men came around the corner without a sound. Their eyes widened.

Crap!

When she turned to run, they grabbed her and hustled her back toward the bridge. Her furious struggling connected her boots to their shins multiple times, but they only winced and remained silent. She started to use her nails.

“Let her go.”

The commanding voice actually flooded her with relief. Clio twisted in the gripping arms.

Chance.

The goons released her, and Clio quickly put distance between herself and them, not taking her eyes off Chance. He jerked his chin.

The two thugs split off again. Clio was left alone with Chance under the archway of the bridge.

They stared at each other a moment, Chance searching her face as if looking for something in particular. Clio’s eyebrow rose.

“It took you long enough,” she murmured cautiously. “I’ve been waiting around for hours–I wasn’t sure you’d actually come. I wasn’t even sure why you would.”

Chance ignored that to continue pinning her with his intense stare. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life.” Her brittle laugh made him frown.

“I would have been here earlier.” To Clio’s surprise, he sounded mildly apologetic. “But things are…out of control at the moment.”

“Because of me?” Clio asked quickly. “Is…is Aug–he coming after me?” Ugh. She didn’t even want to say the creep’s name.

“Yes,” Chance said bluntly. “But he has other problems.”

“Like what?”

“To get you out, we had to make sure August was distracted.” Chance stepped closer, making Clio tense a little. “There was an attack on the facility where you were first taken.”

“The Gray Men!” Clio gasped. “But how? You planned an attack there? Why would August care about that? I thought he hated them?”

“Yeah, no. That’s his baby. One of his first…projects. He figured out how to convert some of the mind-wiped to the Gray Men.”

Clio’s jaw dropped. “But he was the one who rescued me from…” She trailed off, an angry blush suffusing her cheeks. “That jerk!”

“August likes playing games.” Chance eyed her warily, possibly because her hands had curled into fists. “If it’s any consolation, that particular lab is trashed now.”

“You had something to do with that?” Clio asked incredulously.

“Yes.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “With outside help.”

Clio was stunned. “Who?” she demanded. “What did they do? What happened?!”

“They took out August’s labs there. All the equipment, software, and chemicals. More importantly, the research and records.” Chance shrugged. “It’s only a temporary setback, and there are other facilities, as you saw, but August is furious.”

“Isn’t that too bad.” Clio couldn’t help the spiteful edge in her voice.

Chance frowned at her again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Clio knitted her eyebrows. “I’m fine. Or I will be, once I can kick August in the balls once or twice. Thanks for my clothes, by the way. It was really nice of you to find them.”

Chance actually looked flustered, and finally turned his gaze away. “Let’s move farther out. We’re too close to the center for comfort, and we need to talk.”

Clio hesitated, then nodded. But she grabbed his sleeve before he started walking.

“Just so you know,” she hissed, “if you try to pull some big double-cross on me at some point, I will break your nose, no matter what else happens. I promise.”

Chance barked out a surprising laugh–a real one that showed his teeth and made the perpetual intensity in his eyes soften. Clio stared in fascination.

“Thanks for the warning.” Chance gestured toward the street, and Clio stepped out to lead the way.

“Oh, just follow me. If we’re gonna do this, you might as well come back with me to the tower, since you sent me to them in the first place, right?”

She stomped off through the streets, trying not to worry about whether she was doing the right thing. Chance followed obediently–which was a nice change.

“I’ve never been inside,” Chance hedged.

Clio thought she detected a hint of curiosity. “Maybe I should charge you admission. It’s pretty incredible.”

She could hear his amusement when he asked, “How should I pay?”

“Information,” she snapped.

Proceed to Chapter 8, page 3–>