Once An Eve Novel

sleep but you can leave it by the door.” I looked away before adding, “Please don’t let anyone disturb me tonight, no matter what.”
    Beatrice combed my hair, running her fingers over my forehead. “Of course. You’ve had a very long day.” I squeezed my eyes shut. I kept seeing Caleb’s face on that billboard, hearing the soldiers muttering about the traitor who had killed one of their own, about what they would give to witness the execution. They knew he was inside the City walls. I needed to tell him not to come, that it was too dangerous, but there was no way to reach him. He was already moving through the Outlands, snaking down the empty streets to meet me.
    “What’s troubling you?” Beatrice whispered. She took my hand in hers, cradling it. “You can tell me.”
    I looked up at her kind, round face. I can’t , I thought, knowing how much danger Caleb was already in. They were probably scouring the Outlands for him. “I’m just sick,” I said, trying to smile. “That’s all.”
    Beatrice kissed the top of my head. “Well, then I better get to it,” she said, standing to go. Then she leaned over, looked directly at me, and pressed her warm palm against my cheek. “I will make sure no one disturbs you. You have my word.” She remained there for a moment. Her brown eyes were alert, serious, like I’d never seen them before. I know what you’re doing , she seemed to say, never taking her eyes off mine. And I’ll do whatever I can to help you .
    She stood and went into the hall. I kept staring at the door. It didn’t shut all the way, and she didn’t pull it closed and check the knob like she usually did. Instead it rested lightly on the frame, wood against lock, just slightly ajar.
    I moved quickly. I’d hidden the uniform in the toilet tank, letting the plastic bag float on top of the water. I pressed the bathroom door closed and dressed as fast as I could, donning the wrinkled white shirt, the red vest, the black pants. Then I retreated into the hallway, down the east staircase, taking off my shoes so as not to make any sound.
    It was still before curfew. The streets were just thinning out. I disappeared into the clusters of workers changing shifts, my stomach churning as I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was following me.
    People strolled across the overpass, walking arm in arm as they made their way back to their apartment buildings. A Jeep came down the street, two soldiers hanging out of the truck’s bed, scanning the sidewalks. I kept my head down, turning right to cross the main road, toward the building Caleb had marked. It was called the Venetian, an old hotel that had been converted into office buildings. A few restaurants had been opened, the gardens had been replanted, and the wide canals were filled with water once more. As I made my way over the arched bridge, a boat glided past, carrying the last of the day’s passengers.
    I was a few steps from the main entrance when I turned, noticing a figure standing on the dock. She was much shorter than me but wore the same uniform, her curly brown hair pulled away from her face. “Are you waiting for a gondola, Miss?” she asked softly, stepping under an overhang and into the shadows. She paused, waiting for me to respond.
    I glanced down at the map, at the X Caleb had scribbled right by the dock, and nodded. I followed her to the edge of the water. “You should take off your vest, Eve,” she whispered. As the light reflected off the water I caught glimpses of her delicate hands, the old cameo brooch she wore around her neck. “It’ll look odd if one of the workers is out on the water. But keep your hat pulled down over your eyes.”
    I took off the vest and handed it to her just as a narrow boat glided past us. Caleb was standing on the stern, wearing a black shirt and white hat that shielded his face. I scanned the crowd leaving the garden, looking for soldiers. “Last ride of the night,” he called out. He steered the boat with a long wooden oar, pausing at the dock so I could get in. Then he pushed off, into the open water, as the last few people meandered out of the Venetian’s gardens.
    I sat facing him, our eyes meeting as he paddled into the center of the canal, away from where anyone could hear us. We drifted on the clear water, the Venetian’s tower lit up behind us. It was a long while before either of us spoke. “They know you’re here,” I said. “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s too