Free Bluewing by Kate Avery Ellison Page A

and crouched to peer into shadowy corners.
    Nothing.
    Something about the shape of the final office felt familiar, like the essence of a dream I’d forgotten. I paused, thinking hard. From the depths of my memory rose a recollection of me peering into a room where guards huddled around a glowing box. My heartbeat quickened. Perspiration broke across my back. I stepped into the room and lifted the fungus to see better.
    The glint of metal caught my eye, and my pulse stuttered. I took a hesitant step toward the far wall, and the light illuminated a table strewn with humming devices. I sucked in a breath. Was this it?
    The pale light of the fungus painted shadows on the wall and threw the devices into garish relief. I saw buttons, tangles of wires, a row of boxes. I ran one finger over the dials and switches and gnawed my lip. How was I supposed to work this thing?
    My finger slipped on the dial.
    Light shot from the device. The boxes blinked and hummed louder. Glowing words flashed in the darkness.

    Agent A, report.

    Agent A. Adam? Or Atticus? I reached out to touch the letters, and they swirled away from my fingertips, replaced by rows of new ones all in a jumble. I touched each letter I needed, building a message in return. I kept it brief. I didn’t dare say anything about the Blackcoats until I was sure this wasn’t some kind of trap.

    Agent A gone. Agent L here. Have fugitives. Need orders.

    When I’d finished, the message disappeared. I stared for a long time at the blank space where it had been. Was that it? What happened now?
    I remained there for a span of hours or minutes, it was impossible to tell. My stomach pinched, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten in a long time. My hip throbbed. I needed to get out of here.
    The device clicked loudly. I sprang back, startled, as words flashed across the screen once more.

    Received. Keep fugitives safe. Gather information. Do what you can to solidify your position.

    I composed a reply.

    Revolution developing. Instructions?

    I waited and waited, but there was no response. Time was slipping away—I needed to get back to Echlos. I decided to return later to see what they’d said.
    The machine hummed behind me as I left the room, heading toward where I knew staircases led to the higher levels. I’d never been to those floors before, because I hadn’t had permission to see them. But I knew they were closer to the surface, and that was where I needed to be right now.
    Ahead I spotted light. The seams of a closed door glowed white. Relief shot through my body. I grabbed the knob and twisted.
    The door gave way with a groan of hinges rusty from disuse. I staggered inside, blinded by the light. When my vision cleared, my lungs squeezed and my stomach flipped.
    I was not outside. A transparent ceiling—glass?—stretched over me, drenching a massive room of white tile in light.
    And in the middle of the room, motionless, were more than two dozen Watchers.
     
     

NINE
     
     
    WATCHERS. NOT FIVE steps away.
    I gasped, the sound a harsh rasp in the silence. Every hair on my body prickled as I fumbled for my knife and braced for them to turn at the sound.
    But they didn’t move.
    It was then that I began to notice the small details—the slack positions of their limbs, the glassy black color of their eyes, the stillness of their bodies. They were...dead? Sleeping? Whatever these mechanical things did during the day?
    My whole body sagged as relief turned my muscles to mush.
    I held still and counted to one hundred, waiting for them to stir. When they didn’t, I began to inch backward toward the door. I remembered Ivy’s words about their ability to wake in daylight. She’d also claimed they were docile during sunlight hours. Was it true?
    The sky, visible through the transparent ceiling, mocked me with its nearness. But there had to be another way out, one that was not fraught with peril.
    My fingers closed around the knob behind me, and I twisted it. The door shrieked