J. Mitchell - Midnight City

But it was possible to get close enough to reach it, without the invisibility sphere touching it. She could do it, but she’d have to be careful.

She crept toward the cot. There wasn’t much brush or other obstacles between her and it. He had chosen a clear area for the camp. She stopped just short of it… and waited.

Mira had no way of knowing if the Shroud had absorbed the cot. To her, looking out from inside, everything was visible. It was only people looking in that couldn’t see past the ball of reflected light and air.

Mira waited a few more seconds, listening for any sign she had been detected. But none came.

She examined the cot again. If she were Holt, Mira would have slid the object all the way to the rear of the sleeping bag, so that it would be the most difficult to get to.

Mira grinned and drew a knife. It would be difficult to get to only if you went in through the front.

She reached for the rear of the sleeping bag with the knife…

…and the cot in front of her flipped over as someone underneath it leapt to his feet.

As he stood, Holt whistled three times… and Max exploded into the campsite, charging toward them.

Mira scrambled backwards, hoping the Shroud would conceal her. It did… but she saw Holt turn toward her as she pushed across the ground.

He leapt forward, hands swinging wildly. He missed her completely… but slid far enough that he passed through the edge of the Shroud’s invisibility sphere, and inside with her.

He could see Mira now, and he looked at her with that infuriating cocky smile. “Took you long enough.”

Mira kicked him hard in the face.

He yelled in pain, went reeling backwards. “Hey!” he shouted in anger, holding his nose, shocked. “What the hell?”

Mira smirked in spite of herself. That felt good. She got to her feet and ran, hoping the Shroud—

The blue gray blur that was Max ran right into her. Whether it was intentional or the dog had just gotten lucky, it was enough to trip her up.

Mira crashed to the ground. Instinctively, she put her hands out to break her fall. And one of those hands contained the Shroud. The artifact combination tumbled out of her grasp and rolled away in the dirt.

Mira was now completely visible… and pretty much totally screwed.

She tried to get to her feet, but Holt leapt on her from behind, pinned her hard to the ground. She struggled, trying to get loose, to get a leg free, to bite at his hands—anything—but he was too strong.

Fear swelled up in her as she felt the rope circling her hands again, felt her shoulders tighten as they were locked behind her back. It was an awful thing, the simple loss of mobility, the loss of freedom.

When she craned her neck around to glare at Holt, the smirk from before was gone. His nose was bloodied and purple, and he scowled down at her. Mira flinched as Holt pulled the ropes around her wrists extra tight. But she didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

Max continued to bark and growl at Mira, just feet away from her face. She looked at the dog… and barked back in her best and loudest imitation. “Rawr, rawr, rawr!”

Max went silent, surprised, looked from Mira to Holt, off balance.

Holt pulled Mira to her feet, turned her around to face him, wiping the blood from his nose as he stared at her.

“You knew I’d go for the cot. Knew I’d ignore your pack,” she said hotly. The anger was mainly for herself, though. She hadn’t even given a thought to the idea that the first trap might be a ruse.

Holt nodded. “You’re smart, Mira, so I set a trap for a smart person. It’s a shame you don’t give yourself more credit, you might have figured me out.”

Coming from Holt, it was almost a compliment. Mira fought the instinct to blush, angered she would be flattered by a bounty hunter who wanted to turn her in for money.

Mira became conscious of a warmth on her hands. It took a moment to realize what it was. Holt was still holding on to them.

“You can let go of my hands now,” she said softly.

Holt, apparently, had forgotten, too. With a start, he let them go, and stepped back.

And then Max barked excitedly, and ran for the opposite end of the camp.

“The Max!” Zoey shouted as the dog rushed to meet her, tail wagging. “The Max wants pets!”

Max rolled over as Zoey started rubbing the dog’s belly. As usual, he made no move to stop her.

Mira heard Holt sigh when he saw the little girl. “Fantastic…,” he said in exasperation.

HOLT PULLED HIS ANNOYED GAZE away from Zoey and Max and moved for the edge of the camp, where he’d left his pack.

He’d forgotten all about the little girl, hadn’t factored her back in to his plans. Looked like she and Mira were a package deal, at least for the time being.

That was okay, he’d make it work. They were almost out of the forest now, nearing the river valley. The trading posts along the river would be a fine place to dump her off.

Plenty of River Rat congregations were looking for new crew, even at Zoey’s age. They would take her off his hands. He’d just have to keep it to himself that the reason Assembly dropships were blanketing the area with walkers was because they were looking for the kid. That mystery would be somebody else’s problem to figure out.

And then he could transport Mira back to Midnight City unhindered. Holt expected to feel the usual rush of relief at the prospect, but he didn’t. The feelings were muted this time, distant and far off. They felt hollow.

But why? he wondered angrily. Mira was a criminal. At least as far as Midnight City claimed, and he had no reason to disbelieve them.

Only he did, of course.

Midnight City was a place of nonsensical politics and dangerous mind games. Its various factions weren’t above falsely accusing someone of something heinous to get whatever they wanted, even if the accusation meant that person’s death.

But it wasn’t his problem, Holt reminded himself. He had to survive, and he couldn’t very well do that with the Menagerie chasing after him. Mira was his only shot at being rid of them once and for all, at finally escaping his troubles.

The unfinished tattoo on his hand itched under his glove, but he ignored it.

He cursed himself silently, because he knew what the problem was. Try as he might to prevent it, he had come to like Mira. She was strong and independent, a survivor like him, but also… not as sullen as most people he met. Somehow the cynicism of the world hadn’t taken hold of her. There was an aura of optimism about her, a belief she could overcome anything. It was naïve, of course… but attractive nonetheless.

Attraction. Yeah, there was that, too. Her emerald eyes, the softness of her hands, the subtle scent of mint he caught when he was close to her.

Holt wasn’t above such things, but anytime he had ever given in to them, it had meant trouble. And besides… she was his prisoner. Emerald eyes or not.

No, he had strict rules about this. He stayed detached. He didn’t get involved. Regardless of how long Mira’s scent might linger in his mind.

Holt moved for the edge of the camp where he’d left his pack. He reached and grabbed it, opened it, and pulled out the cylinder from Clinton Station. It still had the attached Dampener artifact, and he held it up for Mira to see.

His nose ached from her kick, and the look of anger she shot his way actually made the pain feel better.

“You had it in the pack ?” Mira yelled at him.

“And if you’d just been as dumb as I hoped you weren’t, you could have gotten it,” Holt turned the water-filled cylinder over and over in his hands with curiosity, holding it up to the sun to see the light dance through the sliver of brown in its center. “What is it, anyway? What’s so important you’d come back for it?”