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Van Gogh would paint them. The walls otherwise
were of stone, cut very rough to maximize shadow.
I thought about third-floor rooms with no
window. Even in a fortress, people need a li le bit
of a window in case of a blackout, right? So those
were storage rooms, or safe rooms. They had to be
storage; you don t advertise the location of safe
rooms. Do you store spare furniture there, Race? Or
equipment? Contraband? People?
I thought of climbing those rough walls. It
would have to be at night, or while everyone was
completely distracted.
But Turn couldn t do that kind of climbing.
All day the blue uniforms plied me with glasses
of tea and soda, with scrambled eggs rolled in
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tortillas and a bowl of cut melons for breakfast,
shrimp fajitas and soup for lunch, and with a box
full of inedibly sweet candies after lunch.
From where I sat in the cool of the evening,
the largest balcony half-blocked my view of a pair
of windows that gave softer light, as if filtering it
through curtains too sheer to see from my distance.
I called that the dulce room, and watched it until I
caught a glimpse of Julieta s silhoue e.
Security lights came on, four of them and then
three more. Okay, since the first ones on were not
in deepest shadow, they weren t sensor-driven.
Timers, or a manual switch. Either way, I knew that
these four dimmer lights were on one electric circuit
and these three brighter ones were on another.
Julieta came to the window and looked down
into the atrium. I d positioned myself where a vine-
covered la ice to my left threw a plaid shadow over
me, be ing that the reflected light to my right would
less illuminate than confuse my outline.
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TURNCOAT
Either she didn t see me or she quickly saw
enough, and withdrew before anyone could accuse
her of staring.
I bet she s lonely tonight. Whatever Doña Julieta
was hiding, she adored Race, and she knew where
his focus was. I pictured her upbraiding him: How
do you think I feel when I see the servants smirk? But
she didn t know enough Spanish to say that, from
what Race said. And she looked too proud to say it.
I would guess Race would be doing what he could
to keep Turn and me from being alone together.
Since Turn had shut down any option of a locked
door between us at night, we were going to have
a babysi er and who be er than Racien, with his
bulldog mouth and his hard, hungry eyes?
Julieta s balcony was more than twenty feet up.
Not unreachable from the roof.
I pictured manga ninjas rappelling down from
the roof. The gli ering edge of the roof became
broken bo les in my imagination, though, and
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sawed through the rope.
That gli er very well could be broken bo les.
I d need to take that into account if I ever wanted
onto the roof. For example, as a way out of this sun-
blasted gilded cage.
Turn couldn t climb. But what if I climbed out of
here, then came to the street door from the outside
and knocked? They d have to have some kind of
security camera, and if they saw me on the wrong
side of the door, they d have to open it, right? So,
if Turn was lurking on their side of the door when
they opened it for me, he could do his steam-roller
imitation and blast past them to get out.
They d chase us. I run for fun, but Turn with his
mangled foot wouldn t get far without a diversion.
I looked at the dulce window. Hmmm.
One of the doors to my left bounced open. Race
stalked through, his onyx gaze se ling immediately
on me. Two of the blues came scurrying behind him.
He snapped orders, too quietly for me to pick up.
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TURNCOAT
But his a ention was on me.
My mouth dried. He was furious.
I think we ve worn out our welcome.
Turn, his mouth set in a flat line, limped out
from behind him, and got between him and me.
Race bared his teeth and said something.
Turn recoiled. Will you listen to yourself? If I
didn t see your mouth moving, I d swear it was my
father s voice!
Race snapped a retort I didn t hear, though I
heard the anger clear enough. Turn s rumble didn t
get through either.
The gilding was coming off the cage. We had to
get away somehow.
While they argued, four of the blues brought
out what looked like a wide-spread X made of six-
foot sections of a telephone pole, with heavy lawn-
tractor wheels that creaked on the tile. The men
set it under the wall between the po ed kumquats,
centered under the strongest spotlight, and kicked
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braces in place to lock the wheels.
I had no idea what it was, but
Fuck. The straps a ached to the top ends of the
beams were wrist restraints. One of the men spoke
quietly to the others, and abruptly four of them
darted between me and Turn. What did they think
they going to do to him?
Whatever he wants, Turn, let him have it. Please,
let him have it.
I felt a movement behind my neck.
Ou ahere.
I dove low and to the right, gauging the shadows
of the two men who d sneaked up on me.
Two others tackled me, brought me down.
I kicked, elbowed, gouged and never mind my
aching face bit anything that came in range.
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