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Juliette was trying to kill the Secretary-General of the Communist Party.
Kathleen threw the note down and bolted off the bed, hurrying for the armory next door. They kept their weapons in this small room, with the grandfather clocks and the rotting settees, in a row of cabinets that would have otherwise appeared inconsequential to a casual observer. She moved fast, tearing open the drawers and loading up two pistols, spinning the silencers on tightly. She checked the ammunition, clicked each loose component tightly, then shoved both weapons in her pockets.
Kathleen stopped. Her ears perked suddenly, hearing sound from the other side of the wall, from Juliette’s room.
Footsteps. Who was walking about?
Prickled, Kathleen rose quietly, keeping her footsteps light as she padded out of the armory and back toward Juliette’s bedroom. With her breath held, she poked her head through the doorway and sighted a familiar figure. She relaxed. It was only Rosalind, holding the note.
“What the hell is this?” Rosalind demanded.
Kathleen immediately tensed again. “I… thought the words were rather self-explanatory.”
“You can’t be serious.” Rosalind’s eyes dropped down to Kathleen’s pockets. She traced the shapes of the weapons, gaze sharpening—hollowing. “You’re not actually going to go, are you?”
Kathleen blinked. “Why would I not?”
A moment passed. That moment would be something to mark forever: the first time Kathleen looked at Rosalind—really looked—and realized she had no clue what could possibly be going through her sister’s head. And when Rosalind exploded outward, Kathleen felt the impact like a piece of debris sticking right through her gut.
“This is absurd!” Rosalind shouted suddenly. “We do not have the right to go killing Secretary-Generals as we please! Juliette cannot pull you into this as she pleases!”
“Rosalind, stop,” Kathleen pleaded, hurrying to close the door. “She is not pulling me into anything.”
“Then what is this note? A mere suggestion?”
“This is important. This is a matter of stopping the madness.”
Rosalind’s lips thinned. Her volume dropped, until it was not loud but cold, not angry but accusatory. “Here I was, thinking you were the pacifist of the family.”
Pacifist. Kathleen almost laughed aloud. Of all the words to describe her, pacifist could not be farther from the truth. All because she did not care for bloodshed, and suddenly she was an almighty saint. She would pull a switch to instantly end all life in this city if it meant she herself could have some peace and quiet.
“That is your mistake,” Kathleen said evenly. “That is everyone’s mistake.”
Rosalind folded her arms. If she clutched the note in her fist any harder, she would put a hole right through the words. “I suppose Juliette is the only person exempt from being a fool in your eyes.”
Kathleen’s jaw almost dropped.
“Do you hear yourself right now?” she asked. Perhaps she had stepped into a machine that took them back to being petulant toddlers.
But Rosalind did not care to consider herself. The bitterness had risen to the surface and now it could not cease in overflowing.
“Look at how casually Juliette has approached this whole madness,” she hissed. “Look at how she treats it like it is merely another task to impress her parents with—”
“Stop it.” Kathleen’s hands closed around the hem of her shirt, scrunching her fingers into the thick fabric. “You haven’t been around for most of it.”
“I saw the monster!”
“This isn’t Juliette’s fault. It’s not her fault that she has to treat it like her job because it is—”
“You don’t get it,” Rosalind hissed, rushing forward. She stopped right in front of Kathleen and clutched at her shoulders. “Juliette will never face the consequences to anything she does. We will. We feel every goddamn part of this city when it breaks—”
“Rosalind,” Kathleen pleaded, “you’re really, really stressed right now.” She untangled her hands from her shirt and held them out in front of her. It was both an action to keep Rosalind at a distance and to placate her sister like she would placate a feral animal. “I get it, I do, but we’re all on the same side.”
“Her family name is Cai!” Rosalind exclaimed. “How can we be on the same side when they will never fall? They are invulnerable. We are not!”
Kathleen could not keep listening to this. Time was running out. The weapons in her pocket grew heavier with each passing second. She removed Rosalind’s tight grip from her shoulders, unspeaking, and turned to leave.
Until Rosalind said, “Celia, please.”
