Free Angel Arias by Marianne de Pierres

Grave North and find out why Rollo had seen a Riper here in Grave. It held the key to everything. She knew it.

 
    T he boy led them outside and along the cobblestones to the edge of the warehouse. They could hear the hounds roaming the waterline to the north and fear wrapped itself tightly around Naif’s stomach. With every step she imagined a hand clamping down on her shoulder, or a whistle blowing. She pictured her father’s face if the wardens captured her –
    ‘Naif, what is it?’ Markes was next to her, whispering in her ear. ‘You’re standing still.’
    She blinked. The boy had disappeared ahead, into a space between the buildings.
    ‘Shall we follow him or make our own way?’ Markes asked her.
    ‘I’m sorry. I’m . . . I’m . . .’
    ‘I’m scared too,’ he said simply. ‘Being back here. Ixion has changed us.’
    ‘The boy said Lenoir told him to watch. What does that mean?’
    Markes shrugged. ‘I don’t know but out here we can be seen. We should follow him to cover at least.’
    She nodded and forced her feet forward.
    The narrow alley was long and encrusted with salt and soot. The boy waited for them atop a crate halfway along.
    ‘You slow. Is dangerous.’ His tentacles curled down, gripping the ends of the wood. As they watched he slid off the crate and nudged it away. Underneath was a grate, filthy with sludge. He plunged his tentacles into the gaps and pulled it aside. ‘There is drop.’
    He nodded at Naif and Markes, indicating that they should go before him.
    ‘I’m taller. I’ll go first,’ said Markes. He lowered himself down slowly until he disappeared.
    Naif peered in after him. She could just see his head and shoulders lit by some kind of glow.
    ‘I’ll catch you,’ he called up softly to her.
    ‘Hurry now,’ said the boy. ‘Hounds come.’
    The baying sounded closer again. Naif sat down on the edge and twisted around, lowering herself into the hole. Markes caught her and helped her onto a ledge.
    She stood still, panting, listening to the sound of water rushing past her. Droplets splashed onto her skin. The smell of saltwater overpowered all other scents.
    ‘I think we’re in a tidal drain. The water’s flowing straight out to the sea,’ said Markes.
    The boy came next. With quick agile movements he slid the grate in place after him. He dropped down near them and took a lit torch from the wall above Markes’s head.
    ‘What’s your name?’ Naif didn’t want to go any further with him until he told them that at least.
    The torchlight wavered as he started walking. ‘Liam.’
    Liam. It seemed familiar but Naif knew no one by that name. ‘Where are you going, Liam?’
    ‘Others.’
    He walked on, along the narrow ledge beside the drain, leaving them no option but to follow him or be left in the wet, cold dark.

     
    They hugged the drain wall, bending double in parts. Several times Liam got too far ahead of them and they called out, asking him to come back with the light.
    ‘You slow,’ he said.
    ‘It’s slippery,’ Markes replied.
    Liam nodded as if he understood but his expression was unimpressed. He stayed aloof and impatient until they finally reached another grate. Light flooded down through this one, illuminating the water rushing past their feet.
    The three of them were drenched with spray now, and Naif was shivering from the damp cold of the tunnel.
    ‘Up,’ said Liam.
    He scaled the slippery wall using the suckers on his tentacle fingers for grip. Pressing his mouth against the grate, he called out words that Naif didn’t understand.
    Soon after, the grate opened and a hand reached down.
    Naif looked at Markes. ‘Where are we?’
    ‘West of the Old Harbour, I think.’
    If Markes was right, the Seal compound – and her parents – were close.
    The tightness in her chest returned. ‘I can’t breathe,’ she panted.
    ‘It’s the fear doing it,’ said Markes gently. ‘Slow your breath. No one knows there are people in these