Page 160 of Aviatrix

I lift my chin, heart pounding. “Okay,” I breathe. “I’m ready.”

The three of us walk the corridor in silence, our footsteps the only sound. Doors are barricaded. Faces peek out from behind narrow cracks.

No sign of Gary, Scooter, or Thea. I haven’t seen them since we got back. Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re off somewhere, planning the next move.

Whatever it is, they’ll have to do it without me.

Eli’s fingers slip into mine.

I used to think I’d be ready. That if this day came, I’d stand tall. But now my legs feel like sand, and all I want to do is run. Still… I walk.

We reach the hangar. My heart pounds so loud it drowns out my breath. But Eli rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, anchoring me.

There’s an army. Guns drawn. Every one of them aimed at a black ship that’s smaller than the one that hit Langdon, but sealed tight.

Lark stands at the front, flanked by armed airmen.

“Stay here,” I say to Mom. Then to Eli, “Keep her safe. Please.”

I want to kiss him. Just once. One more time. To hold on to what last night gave me. Safety, warmth, clarity.

But instead, we just tangle our fingers tighter.

It’ll have to be enough.

If this is goodbye.

The crowd parts as I step forward. My sneakers echo. My heartbeat hammers.

Lark opens his mouth to say something, but the ship hisses. A thick curl of steam spills from the seams.

And then something crawls out.

Its legs move like tentacles, greenish-black and glistening. The stench hits all at once, acrid and chemical. Like something rotting.

Terror claws up my throat, but I force it down.

When it rises to full height, it towers over us. My heart races as I stare at its round, smooth head and beady, bottomless eyes.

“Kinley Quay,” it screeches. The sound is sharp and discordant like nails on glass. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

I swallow hard, step forward. “Here I am.”

Its tongue juts out, split at the tip, like jagged bone. “Have you found the Legion?”

The pitch scrapes the air. Several airmen flinch, clutching their ears.

But I don’t move.

“I haven’t,” I answer. It hisses, sharp and loud. “But I have an address. A warehouse. I know where they meet.”

“Give it to me.” Its head twitches once, too fast. Like a frame skipped in time.

Lark steps beside me, a silent support.

“We’ll send you the coordinates,” I tell it as its tongue flicks back and forth. “But first, you answer my questions.”

The creature bends low, its breath like burning flesh. “Give me the coordinates,” it hisses again, voice spiking like static.