Isabelle broke into a grin, but Cate was more cautious. She squared her shoulders back. “What about Bellanger’s little army? You know how much I want to get out of here, but we’ve got to plan this carefully—I don’t want any more loss.”
“I have a plan.” It had spun in the back of my mind, held together with thin, shining threads of hope and recklessness. “It’s time to show them what we can do.”
“Then I’m in,” said Cate.
“Me too,” said Isabelle at once.
“Fiona can start fires. We know that much. But what I learned today,” I said, “is that she can’t put them out.”
49
We’d waited until late at night, or as close to late night as we could gauge in the windowless limbo of our room. I knew we needed to hold off until only a few people were still awake. The hours crawled by with agonizing slowness. Every time I thought it was late enough, I made myself wait, counting down the minutes in my head.
When I was reasonably sure it was past midnight—the noises outside had settled, the darkness at the edge of the door had thickened—I’d listened at the door for footsteps passing by outside. I didn’t want to attract a group. My target was just one person, walking alone. I waited until I heard light, faltering footsteps and then gestured to Cate and Isabelle, my pulse taking off. We were going to get out of here.
Isabelle had volunteered to be the bait. She banged the soft side of her fist on the door. “Help,” she yelled, mouth close to the door. “We need help. I’m bleeding.” She sounded tearstained, ragged with fear. I had to fight the urge to rush to her side even though I was in here with her, able to see her whole and unhurt. “Can someone please help us?”
The three of us waited. Seconds ticked by, broken only by the convincing shudder of Isabelle’s faked sobs. Maybe it wouldn’t work. They didn’t care if we were bleeding. Then: keys in the lock. The door swinging open, tentatively, revealing a wedge of silky black sky, punctured everywhere with stars. A woman with her gray-blond hair tied into an elaborate braid. She peered inside, face creased with concern.
Reaching for the woman’s mind, I spoke. It was a wild relief to become this version of myself again, like stretching a sore muscle. “Walk inside,” I said. “Give us the key. Don’t make any noise,” I added, as her mouth twitched against my order.
The woman walked into the room. Mutely, she handed the key to Isabelle. Isabelle grazed her hand against the woman’s wrist, the lightest stroke of her fingertips. The woman’s eyes rolled back; she crumpled to her knees. “Don’t worry,” Isabelle said to us. “I was gentle. It was just enough to knock her out for a while.”
“You can do that?” Cate asked.
“I’m getting better,” Isabelle said.
Without being asked, the two of us hurried over, lifting the woman’s body between us, carrying her to the bed, and laying her down gently. Isabelle had been telling the truth. The woman still looked healthy, cheeks flushed faintly, chest rising and falling.
I peered outside, looked left and right: nobody. The compound was dark, peppered with only a few lit windows. We went outside into the surprising coolness. The air was so dry that the heat of the day slid right off, dissolving into a chill. Isabelle locked the door behind us. We stuck close to the shadows as we moved toward the chapel.
Near the center of the compound, I paused abruptly. We were right between our targets now. To the due east, the chapel and my mother. To the west, the shed with its arsenal.
“We split up here. Don’t argue,” I said, over Cate’s protest. “It’s the best way to do this. You don’t need to wait with me while I rescue my mother. It will be quicker if the distraction is already happening when I’ve got her. By the time they even realize my mother is gone we’ll be halfway out of this state.” I could already feel the wild pull of freedom in my bones. “You have them, right?”
“Yup.” Cate reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the plain little book of matches. The matches that Orange Shirt had intended to use to burn the evidence his violence left behind.
“You two go ahead, start the fire while the coast is clear,” I said. “We’ll join you as quickly as we can.” Using the plural noun gave me a sudden bloom of optimism. My mother and me, finally back together. One unit.
“I don’t like splitting apart, Morrow, you know that—” Cate said.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But we’ve got to take some risks to pull this off. We don’t have much time.” I lowered my voice. “This is the last time, Cate. This is the last time we’re going to have to do this, and whatever happens next, we’ll be together. I swear.”