E

  ***

  Jonas and Apollon do not come back to us during the long, explosion-riddled night, so the next day we go looking for them. We slip through the back streets quietly, though in truth, Matt is probably too busy with the battle at the wall to be looking inward. The main thing is to avoid the Sentries, which will now have my profile memorized for immediate kill. We stay away from their main posts and walk carefully. We have no problems.

  Elaina Sumter, dressed like a boy, is heading down a side street. On request, she takes us to our friends at a tumble of old buildings near the shantytown.

  Neither Jonas nor Apollon look particularly thrilled to see us. They're busy, and stressed, and already overwhelmed without having to look after us. But Jonas says he's glad we came. He wants us there, with them, where they know we're safe. So we sit off to one side while they go on with their work. I want to think of something else— anything else— but I find myself listening, despite myself.

  They're coordinating an attack, or a series of simultaneous attacks, from within the gates. Jonas is certain this will tip the balance enough to allow Grey's army to penetrate the Outpost and take over once and for all. He and Apollon glance nervously toward us, then look at each other. They're wondering where they're going to hide us. How they're going to keep us safe. Miranda, Neveah, and I exchange our own glances. Our time is running out, thousands of grains of sand sinking one by one, by one, until there are only a few left to fall.

  I close my eyes and listen to the booming in the distance. Since it began, it has never ceased. As we walked here, there was smoke and dirt hanging in dark clouds against the silver sky. If only there was another option.

  My breath catches. I sit up straight, hardly daring to think it. Scooting closer to Miranda, I turn my face toward her shoulder. I whisper, very lightly. "Could you reprogram a crystal?"

  "Crystal?" Miranda whispers, her eyes widening. "Is that what you pulled out of the thing?" Her gaze flickers with rapid calculations. We stare at each other. Neveah scoots closer, leaning in to our huddle.

  My heart thuds insistently in my chest, but I can barely bring myself to ask, for fear of disappointment. Finally I manage, "Can we... is it possible to rewrite them?" I swallow hard. "Make them do what we want?"

  Miranda's eyes dart from side to side again, her lips moving. "Crystals?" she murmurs.

  I nod.

  She continues to process.

  Neveah and I lean closer, holding our breath.

  Finally, Miranda looks up. She gazes from Neveah to me, holds my gaze. She's hesitating. She doesn't want to tell me. We can't do it.

  I look down, start to shake my head, but she grabs my hand. I raise my eyes to her face again. She leans forward, mouth open but not saying anything. Then finally, the glaze falls away from her eyes and she grimaces, her forehead working into a deep line.

  "There are some things I would need," she says quietly, darkly.

  Neveah and I look at each other.

  "What?" I ask, holding up my hands. "Tell me. I'll get it."

  She's already shaking her head. "No," she says softly. "You don't understand. Only Matt has them."

  Silence falls over us, its weight pushing our hearts toward the floor.

  My eyes narrow, my fingers curling into my palms. "If Matt has them, we can take them from him. Almost all his men are on the wall, now. He's not guarding things. He can't afford to."

  But Miranda is still shaking her head. "No, Eden," she says softly. "What I need— it's on the wall."