Scarlet

didn’t fight her as she hauled him to his feet and shoved him toward the door. Rushing back to the booth, Cinder tucked the power cell under her arm before running after him.
    The street was chaos, people screaming and barreling out of the buildings and crying hysterically.
    Cinder spotted the two policemen who had been inspecting the podship, trying to direct a fleeing crowd. A window shattered as a man threw himself through the glass—the creepy man from the parts store—and tackled one of the police in the same movement. His jaws latched on to the officer’s neck.
    Nausea welled up in Cinder as the maniac released the officer and turned his bloodied face up to the sky.
    He howled.
    A long, proud, ominous howl.
    Cinder’s dart caught him in the neck, silencing him. He had time to turn his glower on her before he collapsed onto his side.
    It didn’t seem to matter. As Cinder and Thorne ran for their abandoned podship, the man’s howl was picked up by another and another, half a dozen unearthly calls being sent up in every direction to greet the rising moon.

 
    Thirty-Seven
    “What was that?” Thorne yelled as he peeled the podship off the street. Flying lower and much faster than regulations suggested, they fled over the patchwork of crops that surrounded the town of Rieux.
    Cinder shook her head, still panting. “They were Lunar. He mentioned his queen.”
    Thorne slammed his palm down on the podship’s control board, cursing. “I know Lunars are supposed to have some screws loose—no offense—but those men were psychotic. He practically gnawed off my arm! And this is my favorite jacket!”
    Cinder glanced over at Thorne, but his injured shoulder was the one turned away from her. She could, however, make out a red welt where he’d pounded his forehead into hers in order to snap her from her delirium.
    She pressed her cool metal fingers to her own forehead, which was starting to throb, and noticed a skein of text in her vision that she’d been too terrified and distracted to notice before.
    WHERE ARE YOU???
    “Iko’s panicking.”
    Thorne swerved around an abandoned tractor. “I forgot about the police! Is my ship all right?”
    “Hold on.” Sick to her stomach at the swerving, Cinder gripped her harness and called up a new comm.

    ON OUR WAY. ARE THE POLICE STILL THERE?
    Iko’s response was almost instantaneous.

    NO, THEY STUCK A TRACKING DEVICE TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SHIP AND LEFT. SOMETHING ABOUT A DISTURBANCE IN RIEUX. I’M LOOKING AT THE NETSCREENS NOW—CINDER, ARE YOU SEEING THIS?
    She gulped, but didn’t answer. “The police are gone. They left a tracker.”
    “Well, that’s predictable.” Thorne swooped down, catching the tip of a windmill on the landing gear. Cinder saw the Rampion only a few miles off, a large gray splotch amid the crops, barely discernible in the night.

    I KO, OPEN THE PODSHIP DOCK.
    By the time the pod dipped toward the Rampion, the dock was wide-open. Cinder squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself against the seat as Thorne dove toward it too fast, but he released the thrusters just in time and soon they were coming to a very rocky, sudden stop. The podship shuddered and died—Cinder had tumbled out of the side door before the lights faded.
    “Iko! Where’s the tracker?”
    “Stars, Cinder! Where have you been? What is going on out there?”
    “No time—the tracker!”
    “It’s under the starboard landing gear.”
    “I’ll get it,” said Thorne, marching toward the wide-open doors. “Iko, seal the dock as soon as I’m out, then open the main hatch. Cinder, get that power cell installed!” He jumped down off the dock, and Cinder heard a squelch of mud when he landed. A moment later, the interlocking doors began to slide shut.
    “Wait!”
    The doors froze, leaving a space not larger than Cinder’s pounding head between them.
    “What?” cried Iko. “I thought he was out! Did I crush him?”
    “No, no, he’s fine. I just have to do something.”
    Chewing on her lip, she knelt on one knee. Yanking her pant leg up, she unlatched the compartment to her prosthetic leg and found two small chips lodged in the mess of bundled wires. The direct communication chip glittering with its peculiar iridescence, and Peony’s ID chip, still caked with dried blood.
    Those officers had tracked her through Peony’s chip, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if Levana’s minions had found her the same way.
    “I’m so stupid,” she muttered, prying the