Free Scarlet by Marissa Meyer Page B

words against the police, before rushing for the door and scattering across the abandoned farm.
    Scarlet was shaking as she pulled her hood up and fled with them. Not everyone was running—someone behind her was trying to call order. There was a gunshot and mad laughter. Up ahead, the girl with the zebra hair was standing on a storage crate, pointing and laughing at the cowards who would flee from the police.
    Scarlet escaped into the midnight air and the noise faded without the warehouse’s echo around her. She could hear the sirens now, mixing with the thrum of crickets. On the dirt road outside the building, she spun in a full circle as the crowd jostled around her.
    There was no sign of Wolf.
    She thought she’d seen him turn right. Her ship was parked to the left. Her pulse was racing, making it hard to breathe.
    She couldn’t leave. She hadn’t gotten what she’d come for.
    She told herself that she would be able to find him again. When she’d had time to gather her wits. After she talked to the detectives and persuaded them to track Wolf down and arrest him and find out where he’d taken her grandmother.
    Tucking her hands into her pockets, she hurried around the building, toward her ship.
    A sickening howl stopped her, sucking the air out of her lungs. The night’s chatter silenced, even the loitering city rats pausing to listen.
    Scarlet had heard wild wolves before, prowling the countryside in search of easy prey on the farms.
    But never had a wolf’s howl sent a chill down her spine like that.

 
    Nine
    “ Argh, get it off, get it off!”
    Cinder spun, steadying herself on the curved, slick concrete walls as she cast the flashlight behind her. Thorne was writhing and squirming in the cramped tunnel, swatting at his back and emitting an array of curses and unmanly shrieks.
    She sent the beam of light to the ceiling and saw a thriving mass of cockroaches scuttling across it in all directions. She shuddered, but turned away and kept moving.
    “It’s only a cockroach,” she called back to him. “It’s not going to kill you.”
    “It’s in my uniform!”
    “Would you keep quiet? There’s a manhole up ahead.”
    “Please tell me we’ll be exiting through that manhole.”
    She scoffed, more preoccupied with the map of the sewer system in her head than on her companion’s squeamishness. Even though the thought of a cockroach beneath her shirt did make her squirm, she figured it would still be preferable to walking through the ankle-deep sludge with one bare foot, and she wasn’t whining.
    They passed beneath the manhole and Cinder detected the steady sound of water growing louder. “We’re almost to the combined main line,” she said, at first eager to reach it—it was hot as Mars in this cramped tunnel and her thighs were burning from the crouch-walk routine. But then a gut-turning stench wafted toward her, so strong she almost gagged.
    No longer would it just be surface water runoff they were trekking through.
    “Oh, aces,” said Thorne, groaning. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
    Cinder wrinkled her nose and focused on taking shallow, burning breaths.
    The smell grew nearly unbearable as they traipsed through the sludge and came to the sewer connection, finding themselves on the lip of a concrete wall.
    Cinder’s imbedded flashlight searched the tunnel beneath them, darting up the slimy concrete walls. The main tunnel would be tall enough for them to stand in. The light bounced off a narrow metal grate that lined the far edge, stable enough for maintenance workers and covered in rat droppings. Between them and the grate, a river of sewage swelled and churned, at least two meters wide.
    She fought off another bout of nausea as the pungent stink of the sewer clouded her nostrils, her throat, her lungs.
    “Ready?” she said, inching forward.
    “Wait—what are you doing?”
    “What does it look like?”
    Thorne blinked at her, then down at the sewage he could barely make out