Chapter 21 · The Cry Below

"That's not a baby."

Mara said it first, but I was already moving. The cry looped back on itself, same pitch, same break. Wrong.

"Jace, wait—"

I didn't. The catwalk under us groaned, tilting left where the blast had sheared two support beams. Water poured through a split pipe overhead, black and chemical-smelling. It pooled fast on the metal grating, ankle-deep already.

The cry came again. Closer.

"We need to go up," Mara said. Her hand locked around my wrist, slick with blood from the elbow she'd smashed into the console. "Whatever that is—"

"It's below the machine." I pulled free, crouched, got my fingers under the edge of the grating. Rusted bolts bit into my palms. "Someone's down there."

"Then they've been down there for weeks. Jace, listen to me—"

"I am listening." I yanked. The grating shrieked, tilted up six inches. Water gushed through the gap, and the cry spiked, sharp enough to crack teeth. "That's why I'm going."

She stared at me. Her face was pale under the emergency floods, streaked with dust and something darker. "You don't owe anyone else."

"Yeah, I do."

I shoved the grating aside. It clanged against the rail, teetered, fell.