Page 101 of Stealing Tink

He moves swiftly, pulling me from the couch by the hand and out into the hallway. Out here, it’s empty, except for the attendant who saw to our needs earlier.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Show’s great, but my wife—” the Nomad says, pointing to me, although I have no idea what’s about to come out of his mouth next. He hadn’t shared with me that we were playing a married couple, and now I’m wondering if I should have worn a ring. “She’s with child, you see, and still not over her illness.”

The attendant holds up both palms as if to say, say no more. “The ladies’ room is down the hall to the left,” he says.

“Thank you,” says the Nomad, then rushes me down the hall.

I wait for him to make some joke about me carrying his baby, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks straight ahead, sadness cut on the edge of his jaw.

Before I have a chance to examine that, he sweeps me into an alcove. There’s a window here, and he shoves it open with his palms. Thankfully, the building is nice enough that it doesn’t creak.

“See you on the other side?” says the Nomad.

I nod, then dip out the window. As soon as I’m out, balancing on the edge by my toes, the Nomad closes the window behind me, lest we attract any undue attention of an attendant passing in the hallway. When he does, I sidle out of view of the window and glance down. Allow the thrill of the height, the tiny specks below, to tingle through my toes, run up my legs.

Then I jump.

As soon as I’ve cleared a good distance from the wall, I extend my wings, allow them to catch air behind me. They’re still sore, but I ignore the pain and focus on making it to the playhouse roof.

I fly upward, doing my best to keep to the shadows. When the heels of my shoes find the tiles of the roof, I let out a sigh I’d been holding while I’d expected an alarm to sound, then I discard my shoes and pad across the roof as quickly as I can manage. Nearby is a sun window, designed to look like a bleeding heart made of glass and wrought iron. With a blade especially made for glass-cutting, one that Lars gave me, I slice into the glass, following the path of the wrought iron where Lars said the suture would be the easiest to cut. I’ve about cut through it when, down below, I notice movement.

A guard paces the hall below. He glances upward, and I shoot backward. I can only hope I made it out of sight of the window fast enough. Moments later, I hear his footsteps pad again, not too quick to be panicked, nor so slow to indicate suspicion.

It’s then that the pane of glass falls.

I lunge forward, my fingers grazing the glass on the way down. It slices my fingertip, but evades my grasp.

No.

It’s as if time slows in honor of the fallen piece of artwork.

But once the glass hits the ground and shatters, time zooms back up again to normal speed. Glass goes flying, peppering the floor. The guard whirls around, glances upward, his eyes going wide when he sees me. He grabs for the whistle hanging at his neck, but before he can press it to his lips, a prop goes flying toward his head.

The guard slumps upon the prop’s impact. Behind where he was just standing, the Nomad materializes.

I have the urge to catch my heart before it leaps up my throat and out of my chest.

The Nomad beckons me down, and I slip over the edge, my wings catching the air before I fall. I allow myself to glide down, then step carefully on the floor to avoid the shattered glass.

“This is going to be problematic,” says the Nomad.

I point to a nearby storage closet. The Nomad shrugs, and together, we hoist the guard inside.

“He’ll wake up eventually,” the Nomad says.

Then we need to be quick, I sign, and the Nomad rolls his eyes. Probably because I’ve chosen to ignore his implication.

“You haven’t even asked if I made it up alright,” says the Nomad.

I gesture to his perfectly intact body. It was stairs, I sign.

“Yes, but I had to remain invisible on those stairs. Do you know how difficult it is not to trip when you can’t see your feet?”

I roll my eyes. Did you get it?

The Nomad slips his hand into his pocket, then flashes a shiny silver key in front of my face. “You mean this? Of course I got it. It was a pain, of course. Smart of the Sister to keep it in a room off the heavily guarded stairs. A room that has no windows, no less. Then again, she clearly wasn’t expecting someone with my skills.”