Marion Lane and the Raven's Revenge by T.A. Willberg

Author:T.A. Willberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Park Row Books
Published: 2023-03-23T19:08:03+00:00

13

MURDER WEAPON, MISSING

“Where did this happen?” Nancy snapped as Rupert Nicholas guided a bruised and bleeding senior Inquirer through the Grand Corridor, which was now crawling with chattering staff members—everyone keen to get a first row seat to whatever new drama was unfolding at the agency.

“Near...Benthal,” the Inquirer spluttered, wiping a trail of blood from his lips while clutching his side. “Came out of nowhere. The...whole mob.”

It was Thursday morning, two days after her meeting with Frank and Nancy, and Marion stood, like everyone else, at the end of the Grand Corridor. Unlike her colleagues, though, she only wished to collect her work roster from the noticeboard, find out where she was on duty for the day and bury herself in one mind-numbing task after the other for as long as was humanly possible.

“Did anyone follow you back here?” Nancy asked next, her tone devoid of sympathy. “McMurray! Answer me. Yes or no. Did anyone follow you here?”

The injured Inquirer shook his head noncommittally, but by the time he actually answered, he, Nancy and Mr. Nicholas had turned toward the infirmary and were out of earshot.

Marion examined her work roster blankly, doing her best to ignore the announcement that had been posted alongside it on the noticeboard. She picked her nails—fully aware her old habit was back with a vengeance but in no state to care—and turned toward the chamber she would be stationed at for the morning. But as she reached the corridor mouth, she was stopped by another senior Inquirer—Aida Rakes—who was holding out a reel of Twister Rope and a small brass device disguised as a pen but which, when triggered, would send an emergency alert to any other pen-wielding Inquirers within six miles.

“Keep the rope demagnetized and on you at all times,” Rakes said without preamble. “And trigger the pen whenever you’re unsure of someone aboveground. Of course, you won’t be going aboveground any time soon, but you get what I’m saying.”

Marion looked up at her and groaned. “Frank’s idea, I guess?” she said, assuming he’d instructed Rakes to track Marion down and provide her with yet another piece of self-defense equipment.

“No. Nancy’s,” Rakes explained sharply. “New protocol, on account of what happened to McMurray and the others.”

“Oh...yes, I saw him being carried in. What happened?”

“He was attacked by the mob. Poor sucker got it pretty bad, though not nearly as bad as the other three last night. And they weren’t even one of us. If it gets any worse—” she shook her head despondently “—well, let’s just pray for some luck.”

Marion had no idea who “the mob” was, or the three others who’d been attacked, or even what Rakes meant by them not being “one of us.” She decided not to ask, though, certain she’d find out soon enough. She nodded, shoved the Twister Rope and emergency pen into her haversack and marched on into the gloom.

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