Free The Watch (The Red Series Book 1) by Amanda Witt

two girls began giggling and
couldn’t stop; when their laughter became tinged with hysteria a dorm mother
touched them on the shoulders and led them outside. The loudspeaker announced
that Physician Neil was needed at the infirmary. A group of nannies directed
children to their tables, reminding the smaller ones to hold their trays level.
    Someone stumbled behind me, bumping my chair as
he passed. It was Farrell Dean, surreptitiously dropping a beautiful piece of
cheese on my plate. Cynda smiled knowingly at him and
fluttered her fingers in a wave. He nodded a greeting to her, and though he
smiled, I saw in his eyes his worries about the coming winter.
    A few tables away Petey ,
an eleven-year-old, tipped his chair too far back and crashed to the floor. His
best friend, Judd, howled with nervous laughter, torn between helping Petey and leaving him to sort himself out alone. An old man
as weathered and tough as a strap of leather got up from a nearby
table—old Louie, one of my favorite people. He bent and untangled Petey from the chair, stood him on his feet, and dusted him
off. A laundress glowered at them all, then said something to Judd that made
his fists clench at his sides. Petey put a hand on
his arm and Judd knocked it away, then turned and stalked out of the room,
leaving his tray on the table.
    The murmur of conversations rose by fits and starts until
the dull roar of it pounded in my brain like an angry
inescapable heartbeat. A woman sitting three down from me put her head in her
arms and began to cry.
    The clock on the wall said 7:30.
    * * * *
    A little before eight, we gathered as ordered at
the circle. Its western rim lay at the base of the watchtower, where a thin
path led from the base of the tower down to the center of the circle, cutting
through the tiered steps around it. Hundreds of people filed in and stood on
the steps, each face shadowy but recognizable in the reflected glow of the blue
streetlights. I scanned the crowd, searching for Meritt —he
was usually pretty easy to spot—but I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe he
was still in isolation. Since he wasn’t around I worked my way down and found a
place in the front row, on the lowest level; tiers or not, I couldn’t see over
any adults standing in front of me, and nothing made me feel more helpless and
claustrophobic than standing in a crowd seeing nothing but people’s backs.
    The city circle was crowded now. It had to be
close to eight o’clock, and still there was no sign of Meritt .
I was looking around again, just in case, when the door at the base of the
watchtower opened and Rafe came out, alone. He
stopped for a moment, blinking as if his eyes were adjusting to the shadowy
blue lights. One side of his face looked swollen, though from that distance, in
that light, I couldn’t tell for sure. Otherwise, he seemed unharmed.
    Relief brought a smile to my lips and I started
to go to him, but I’d only taken a step or two when he caught sight of me and
frowned. Bewildered, I stopped in my tracks. Rafe gave a slight shake of his head, and when he began walking I thought he was
coming to stand with me, that he’d been telling me not to come to him but to
wait. And sure enough he walked toward me, cutting straight through the center
of the circle. But before he reached me he stopped. He stopped in the center of
the circle, and he stayed there.
    Someone nudged in beside me, making room where
there had been none. It was Farrell Dean. He didn’t look at me. His eyes were
fixed on Rafe , standing there alone.
    Then the spotlight came on. Around the circle
every face was cast into darkness as the bright spotlight made the blue
streetlights seem like nothing. For a split second I could see only that bright
white light, and then my eyes adjusted, and again I saw Rafe .
Everyone saw him. He was pinned in the beam.
    Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t escape the
logical conclusion: Rafe was in serious trouble.
    But the Watchers had announced the city