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all he had for mourning.
    “OK, three down up here, and Scout says there’s two more Watchers on the way. You all have to split. I’ll get Duncan out.”
    “Thank you,” Liam said, and pulled Red Beard’s fist toward his own in an embrace.
    Then they split, and Liam led Ana through two doors in the back of the church to a long alley that led to the back of several small stores on one side and tall apartment buildings on the other.
    Liam searched the sky for orbs. None were there — yet. But Ana knew if they waited around, it was only a matter of time before the sky was full of the things.
    “Come on!” Liam said, shoving Ana forward until they reached a manhole.
    Liam bent and pulled the thick metal cover aside, and pointed down a rung of ladders in the wall, which led to darkness below.
    “Ladies first.”
    “The sewers?”
    “Unless you wanna take your chances on the streets,” Liam said with a sarcastic grin.
    She ignored his attitude, kneeled down, and climbed into the sewers.
    Liam followed and pulled the cover over them, plunging the tunnel into darkness.
    The sewer was dark and smelled of waste. A stream of filthy water ran over their shoes.
    “Oh God,” Ana gasped. “This is disgusting.”
    “It gets worse when it rains; goes right up to your chest. Just keep moving. Up ahead, there’s a manhole that leads to a crash pad we’ve got. You can shower there and change into some clothes. But then you have to get back to the orphanage before someone comes looking for you.”

    The “crash pad” was a row of tiny apartments hidden in the basement of another apartment building. The rooms were cramped and the denizens shady looking, but a safe harbor was a safe harbor, and for that, Ana was grateful that The Underground had planned for such events.
    Though the shower was cold and the bathroom small and dingy, they did have plenty of soap, which helped to cleanse away the stench of the sewers.
    As the water rushed over her, Ana couldn’t wash away the memories of the dead child.
    The Watchers had killed two people in cold blood.
    They would have killed all of them if given a chance.
    What the hell is going on?
    And what does my father have to do with this?

    After the shower, Ana dried off and looked at the clothes Liam had left on the sink — plain black pants, white underwear two sizes too big, and a black shirt. Plain enough to blend in with other people, but different from other clothes she owned. She hoped nobody at The Rock would notice.
    As she finished getting dressed, Liam rapped on the door.
    “Come on,” he said sharply.
    She opened the bathroom door, surprised to see him glaring, angry. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying.
    “What’s wrong?” she asked.
    “You have to ask?” he said, his eyes wide.
    She stared at him, and then it dawned on her.
    “What?” she asked. “You’re blaming me for this?”
    “You should never have come to the church!” he said.
    “I came because Duncan asked me to! After you got arrested at The Social.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t have gotten arrested if you had just kept your mouth shut!”
    “Me? Me?” she said, shocked. “Don’t blame me! You’re the one who started the fight. You’re the one who had to go all macho and pick a fight with a girl.”
    Liam glared at her, like he wanted to say something else. Or maybe even wanted to hit her.
    His fists shook, and he looked down, closing his eyes.
    “She was just a kid,” he said. “She died because of us.”
    Ana wanted to fight the accusation, but then let out a long sigh.
    “You’re right,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Sorry’s not gonna bring her back. Now get out.”
    Ana wasn’t sure if he was crying or holding back an angry scream. Either way, she heeded his advice and left, heading back to The Rock, knowing that nothing would ever be the same again.

CHAPTER 6 — Anastasia Lovecraft
    Inside The Walls of City 6
    A na wandered through the next few days in a fog. Concentration was impossible, though still easier than forgetting the massacre in the church and the million truths it unspooled into the haunted hallways of her reality.
    The second day was a pale echo of the first, long and lingering, as Ana moved as mechanically as the factory machines she handled at her job. Hours blurred with memories that felt as real to Ana as her first memory of ice cream — not the “taste” you could buy at The Arcade, but the real stuff she ate on her birthday. She thought