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From the Blurb:
Haunted by memories of the night Venn Vanished, Rhyd Ballard’s life morphed into shadows, into a war against the law-keeping Crows who roamed the Levels arresting dissidents, radicals, addicts and those deemed traitors to the City.
The Scarecrow was born that night, to stand alone against the Founder, against the Crows, determined to save those who could not save themselves…or die trying.
He had nothing left to live for.
But no one, not Rhyd, not the Crows, not the Founder, could foresee the day when the Outside would creep into their lives in the most innocent of guises, exposing secrets that would either pint Hebanthe Falls on a path towards ruin or salvation.

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After trying to entertain a child whose single interests were the cats outside the window and Rhyd’s return, Zara decided, when it was time to return to Vapors and there was still no sign of Rhyd, to bring Agnys with her to the club, where she might be able to distract her with music or the shiny spangles of her costumes. Leaving Agnys alone again was to end up with her locked out on the street with the cats, in the open where the Crows or anyone who might recognize her differences…anyone interested in a few extra ticks from the Source, could grab her. Zara would never, if she could help it, put someone, particularly a child, at risk. There was a risk moving her across town, but of the options she had, it seemed the better choice to make.

Besides, there were still errands to run for Skelter before the night’s show. She left a message on the Echosys screen that Rhyd would see when he arrived home to find the prodcast still running, and herded Agnys in the direction of the club, making sure she was covered with the shawl Maemi had procured for her. Not only did it help protect the child from the damp, it also hid her blonde hair and shielded her from the curious gazes of others.

“Stay near me,” she instructed, holding the girl’s hand as they wove through the end of shift crowd.

Agnys bobbed her head and followed close. Maybe she did not understand the words but she was beginning to understand the dangers that existed outside of Rhyd’s home. She watched the array of dark cloaks and coats, glistening wet beneath the sheen of colorful neon, the splash and spray of water beneath boots on the grated metal surface, noted the graffiti on the many walls they passed, and tried to pretend she could not hear the constant roar of the falling water surrounding them in the distance.

How could they tolerate that sound the way they did?

That was another good thing about being inside of Rhyd’s home, or inside any building. They were constructed to filter noise, as well as moisture, dulling the fall’s rumble considerably. But it was always there, below the surface of every person’s subconscious. How Rhyd could hear the things he did, as he had shown within the tunnel when he had rescued her, Agnys did not know.

This wet world was frightening and she wished she could go home. Staying close to Zara was the only way to remain safe.

Curious girl that she was, however, when Zara stopped at a vindi at the corner of an intersection, at a place where Agnys could see the club which she and Rhyd had been in before and guessed that was where they were going, and Zara released her hand to offer the seller her tick card, Agnys scooted across the intersection to inspect a glass-encased shelf containing a variety of gadgets, tools and widgets, things with tiny gears and crank handles, tubes and wires, more intricate then she could imagine. There were many people around them, but their destination was close. What harm could there be in so little distance between them? Zara would certainly see her there, know where she was. Agnys inched gradually sideways, studying the unusual, unfamiliar contents, not realizing in doing so that she and Zara were growing further and further apart…or that anyone else was near enough to step between them.

“Something interests you?”

Agnys had no idea she was being spoken to until a large hand clasped her shoulder. She stared up at the tall stranger’s face with surprise and alarm.

“I did not mean to frighten you.”

This was not the first time Captain Grainger had been to this Lev. Though a resident of the Uppers, duty took him throughout the city and he went wherever that duty beckoned. While the noise, the smells, the damp and cold, were bothersome, they troubled him less than they did many of the Uppers residents. Off duty now, stressed by his unsuccessful hunt for a child he doubted he would ever find, one of his officers had suggested the club Vapors as the ideal place to relax and unwind. There were some amazing andis there, the officer had said, especially the one with the long blonde hair. Enough to make you forget your troubles for a while. He had been heading there when, like this child, he found himself engrossed in the eccentric collection the repair tinker offered for sale, items hawked by others, some bought and paid for but never retrieved, things built by someone with a keen eye, deft fingers, and a creative mind. Someone he might be able to utilize for the force,

if that individual was interested in that sort of contract work.

Not many in the Levs were.

If the urchin beside him had an interest in such things, perhaps it would be possible to apprentice her…and groom her towards the security force…if her parents did not already have her future mapped out for her. Always thinking about Hebenon’s future, the idea was worth consideration.

The young man of Chinese descent behind the counter had just asked him, “Can I help you?” when the small figure bumped into Grainger’s leg without noticing she had done so. Grainger did not realize her gender until she looked up at him in that turn, revealing the dress and her shiny black boots. Expensive clothing, expensive at least for the Levs, so she was no streeter…unless she had stolen those clothes. But her face and hands were clean, so he dismissed that thought too.

She was no tinger, even though her paralyzed rat in a flashlight gaze was filled with fear.

Given the reputation of the Crows and his imposing size and the expression that many of his officers called fierce, he was not surprised by the way she stared.

What did surprise him was her blonde-white hair and the blue of her eyes. Not unheard of; there were at least a dozen natural blondes that he knew in the Uppers, the Founder’s wife being one of them…though her hair was more reddish than true blonde. And the dancer he was here to see was said to be blonde. But this was the first truly blonde child he had seen up close, face to face, and her remarkable features fascinated him.

When she did not speak, he looked around them with concern. “Where are your parents?” He did not see anyone who looked to have lost a child, no one frantically searching, no one who seemed to be of expensive enough dress to be…

No, he thought. That woman there. The blonde cattycorner across the street buying skin care products. Her hair was nearly the same blonde. That must be the girl’s mother.

“Hey…miss…” he shouted, his deep, commanding voice cutting through the crashing of water and the constant chatter of haggling voices around the intersection.

With no intention of visiting Vapors tonight, only passing by it to check in with Tox and retrieve the chain he was now obsessing over, Rhyd headed straight there after his shift. It would only take him an extra handful of minutes to do what he intended and get home. Despite his preoccupied thoughts, he paid attention to his surroundings, always keeping watch for the enemy he wanted to destroy. Though Grainger was not wearing his duty coat, the Crow uniform minus the bird’s mask hood the officers on duty wore, Rhyd recognized his stance, his height, the shape of his bald, ebony head.

He did not think the chief security officer was there, in front of Tox’s vindi, on official business as he was neither officially dressed nor had he brought other Crows with him. There was other business he could be on, however, perhaps trying to win over the residents, sway them to gain their trust in order to wheedle information from them. Perhaps he had heard rumors about the Scarecrow’s identity and it had brought him here.

Or perhaps he had heard something about Agnys.

Rhyd ducked into an open doorway from where he could observe and listen when Grainger shouted at someone across the intersection, waving and starting forward with his hand around a small child’s arm. The shawl over the child’s head fell away as the youngster dragged her feet, resisting being taken anywhere.

Agnys!

Across the street, directly in line with Grainger’s diagonal path, was Zara.

There was little thought to his action, when normally Rhyd would have hesitated long enough to formulate a plan. The man’s face, that voice, flashed through Rhyd’s memory, echoed in his head, a warning embedded in memory that filled him with fury. This man had been in his home, had come for Venn, had taken Venn away, had hit Rhyd with enough force to keep him from interfering in the arrest or following them. This was the man Rhyd had been seeking for months, a man whose face was rarely seen since his orders were primarily delegated to lesser officers while he managed things from behind a desk.

Now that Rhyd saw him again, remembered him fully, he wanted vengeance.

Without a sound, he charged, no protective clothing or gear to shield his body, to help him see or hear or breathe, nothing but raw training to his advantage against a larger opponent. Periphery senses told him the streets had cleared, people driven to shelter by the shout of a man they recognized from endless prodcasts and his years of duty.

It was possible they were also driven back by the smaller man with the insane audacity to attack the leader of the Crows.

At the last moment, Rhyd roared, seeing Zara begin to turn towards the voice at last as she noticed that those around her were clearing the street. His martial arts training allowed a kick to the man’s side and the time to spin away before Grainger could turn and react to the surprise attack. Grainger released Agnys’ arm as he turned and the girl was quick enough to duck to the side to avoid the ensuing fight. Faster than Grainger, small enough to duck the punch aimed at his head, Rhyd’s next kick caught the man in the thigh, causing Grainger to stumble and start to go down.

Zara sprinted across the street, grabbed Agnys’ hand, and yanked her away, disappearing with her into the first open doorway she could reach. Vapors. Agnys began to shout Rhyd’s name, but Zara clamped her hand over the child’s mouth to protect the identity of the man who might just have revealed his alternative identity by an unprovoked, but understandable in the circumstances, attack on the captain.

Hoping the man would continue to fall, would go all the way down so that Rhyd could more easily reach his head and knock him out, a third kick came, this time catching Grainger in the chest. It sent the large man sprawling backward into a metal street pole with an alglamp affixed to the top, but this time, Grainger was ready for the attack. He caught Rhyd between the legs with his big fist, which made Rhyd double over and fall awkwardly against the nearest staircase railing. The pain of the blow and the sideways landing on his wrist that twisted bones, ligaments, and muscles, gave Grainger opportunity enough to draw his injector…

…as Agnys broke free of Zara’s hold and dashed to Rhyd’s defense.

One shot. It should have been one. But one became two when something heavy and unexpected crashed into the back of Grainger’s skull and dropped him to the ground.

The first dart poked out of Agnys’ neck, the other caught Rhyd in the stomach. In Vapor’s doorway, Zara stared in momentary horror, as did Xiaodan from behind the counter where he had not yet moved since the altercation had begun.

“Give me his coat.”

That was Skelter’s voice, the redhead pushing past Zara into the street as the warning sirens blared. Within minutes, Crows would be swarming this place. Skelter tore off his own velvet waistcoat and tossed it to Tox, but the woman, though she caught it, held it back out to him as she shook her head. “I’m closer to his height…let me do it.”

Skelter did not argue, though he was not sure they had the same plan in mind. Instead, he helped peel Rhyd’s coat away and hastily put Tox’s coat on him. It was not a good fit, but it would have to do. Tox, in turn, pulled Rhyd’s coat around her shoulders. Thus far, Rhyd had not fully succumbed to the drug in his system, although his efforts to stand and walk were unsteady and he clutched the handrail he had fallen against in an effort to remain upright.

Agnys, however, appeared unaffected by the needle protruding from her neck and was determined to help Rhyd walk as Tox was trying to do.

“You gonna make it?”

Rhyd nodded to Skelter, not sure what had happened except that his stumbling first step nearly caused him to trip over Grainger’s prone body on the street. “I do that?” he slurred, his determination and experience with intoxication enabling him to point himself in the direction of home despite his off-kilter senses.

The siren’s wail was beginning to throb between his ears.

“Sure did,” Tox assured him, content to let him take the credit for her first violent anti-Crow act. Running

footsteps could be heard now, hard soles on wet metal that reverberated throughout the floor beneath their feet. “We’ve gotta go.”

Agnys pointed the way, though Tox did not need the direction. The woman, supporting the majority of Rhyd’s weight, followed.

Skelter, meanwhile, dutifully bent over Grainger and tried to rouse him with gentle slaps to the face and light shakings of his shoulders. He would rather have left the man in the street. As the Crows began to spill into the intersection, six of them, Skelter cast the still-gaping Xiaodan a threatening look, willing him to silence, and then tried to appear as normal as he could.

By the time the Crows reached them, Grainger was beginning to come around. His memory of what had happened was hazy, and the back of his head burned and throbbed from the blow. He remembered a fight…possibly the girl’s parents wanting to protect her from Vanishing. Understandable, but insanely ill-advised to attack a Crow. He had fired at the man…hadn’t he? But there was no one close by except an elegantly dressed redhead and the streets around them were empty of the teeming activity of shoppers that he remembered.

The little girl and her mother were gone.

“What happened?” the filtered mechanical voice of one of the Crows rasped as he pushed his way between Skelter and Grainger to help his boss.

“Someone hit me…” Grainger rubbed the back of his head lightly and scowled.

“The Scarecrow?” The Crow looked at Skelter, but it was impossible to say whether the face behind the mask was expecting an answer or was directing his suspicions towards Skelter.

It was all the redhead could do not to laugh at the apprehensive tone of the masked officer’s words. Obediently, with an appropriate degree of fear, he shrugged, neither confirming or denying the questions, and in anticipation of the next one, he hesitantly pointed…but not in the direction Tox and the others had gone.

“After him,” Grainger muttered, trying to make it sound like a snarl but the effort was undercut by his pain. Three Crows ran in the direction Skelter indicated as the sirens continued to drone. Another helped Grainger to his feet as the last two took off in the direction Rhyd had been taken. Again, Skelter threw another glowering glare at Xiaodan, thinking the young man must have given the Crows some sort of clue. But Xiaodan, in his shock and amazement, had not moved, so perhaps it had been something in his eyes that had alerted them.

Or maybe the Crows were simply intending to circle around and cut the Scarecrow off.

“Why don’t you come inside, sir…sit…have a drink…” Skelter offered, gesturing to the beaded curtain, hoping he could distract the Captain with the pleasures inside Vapors.

Grainger did not think twice about accepting the honest offer, despite the pounding in his skull. The bleeding had not yet stopped, but he pressed the cloth the redhead offered to it and followed the fellow’s friendly smile. All he wanted was to get the drink he had come for, and try again to forget about duty for a few hours…or at least until his officers returned with the Scarecrow in custody.

He lacked a hood, thus would not have the advantage of respirator and night vision goggles, which would make finding the escaping vigilante in the dim layers of the Levs more difficult. To join the pursuit when he was unsteady on his feet would be futile. His officers could handle it.

Although, he grunted silently as he leaned against his escort to stumble into the club, if it was the Scarecrow they were after, they might not be as successful as he hoped.

To hell with success. Grainger wanted a drink. Everyone else could go to hell.

Despite their headstart, it was not long before the sounds of running footsteps, familiar to Agnys despite the lack of echo the shafts produced, began to resonate behind them. Thus far, Rhyd had not collapsed under the assault of the government grade Hebenon in his blood, but Tox could feel in the rate of his pulse against her, in the weight of his staggering steps and the growing glaze over his eyes, that the drug had fully taken hold, but it did not appear that he was at risk of an overdose. She did not think he needed the anti-serum, did not think he risked coma or death, but he needed to get off the street. Tox was surprised he was still trying to walk. She was

more surprised, however, that the child showed no symptoms of Hebenon exposure.

Was it true then? Were parah immune to Hebenon?

“Can you make it the rest of the way?” Tox asked as they reached the steps that led to the housing sublevel where Rhyd’s flat was. She was reluctant to leave them but felt confident she could lead the Crows away from Rhyd and the girl and escape them as well.

Rhyd’s effort to nod was more a side to side bobbing of his head as he groaned, “We’ll make it.” Tox waited only long enough to be sure Rhyd’s weight was supported by the handrail on the staircase, and swung up to the upper sub-level, leaving the pair alone. Agnys frowned, trying to manage Rhyd’s weight as he held fast to the rail and tried to will his legs down the first step without her assistance.

What his bleary, fading vision saw, however, did not coincide with what his motor skills could manage, and that single step resulted in a tumble the rest of the way down the staircase, much the way Venn had fallen in Rhyd’s dream. Agnys avoided falling because his hand slipped from her grasp, but she ran after him in the hopes of breaking his fall. Tox did not come back to help; she was already out of sight.

Rhyd’s door was more than twenty feet away and the thundering of boots was now too close for Agnys to try to pull him inside of a door she could not open. She did not even think she was strong enough to pull him into the crevice beneath the steps before the Crows closed the distance. They might continue after Tox, who made enough noise in her escape to draw their attention, or they might stop to investigate the fallen man and the child with him at the bottom of the stairs.

Unsure of what else to do, hoping they would be ignored, Agnys bent over the man’s body and tried to cover it, hide it, with her own.

A door opened. Eyes peeped out from the darkness, listened, and after a quick assessment of the situation, the gaunt form slunk outside long enough to pull the man and girl into the dark beneath the stairs. There was not enough time to move them anywhere else. The Crows stopped above, may have glanced down though Agnys could not see them, and then they continued to run in the direction of the fleeing steps that continued to move away from them. Finger on his lips, the man with the dirty blonde hair kept the girl and delirious man still until the sound of running boots could no longer be heard or felt.

“Card?”

Agnys looked at the man without fear but it was clear she did not understand. He started to roll his eyes, stopped himself, and muttered, “afatottari,” beneath his breath as he rummaged through Rhyd’s pockets. When he eventually found what he sought, he muttered, “Stay here,” and left the alcove.

Again Agnys stared at him but she would not leave Rhyd, and could not pull him after her, so she remained beneath the stairs as the man slid the Passcard through the reader and pushed the door open with the toe of his shoe.

“Come here.” He waved to her but she did not budge. “Hold the door. I’ll bring him inside.”

His hand gestures, the way he held the door with his foot, were easy enough to interpret. Agnys nodded and squeezed Rhyd’s hand.

“Go…” he slurred. He might not be entirely aware of his surroundings, his situation, but getting Agnys indoors, to safety, was still his priority.

It was enough to ease Agnys’ mind and she ran.

It was easier for the long-haired man, despite his thinness and age, to hoist Rhyd beneath his arm and maneuver him into the flat, out of the ill-fitting woman’s cape he wore as Agnys closed the door behind them and the cats that had followed them inside. When Rhyd was lying sprawled on the cushioned sofa, the blonde saw, at last, the injector needle protruding from the man’s stomach. He was surprised the end had not broken off. He scowled, glanced at the girl now cuddling the smallest of the three cats as if to find comfort in the animal’s warmth, and noticed the same protrusion at the side of her neck.

She winced when he pulled the needle free and held it to her in his open palm so that she could see. “So you’re the one the fuss is about. Don’t look like no monster to me.”

Agnys blinked at the odd sound of his words and pointed at Rhyd.

The small man’s body had grown rigid and began to shake with random tremors as the Hebenon in his system interfered with muscle control. It appeared that this was a more potent dose of the drug than what the Crows usually used, for while they wanted prisoners incapacitated, they rarely gave them enough to overdose or kill them. That was the sort of mistake that could get a Crow banished from the force, for it would bring down the wrath of every man and woman on the Levs. Killing someone in plain sight, killing anyone in Hebanthe Falls’ meager population, was heavily frowned upon even by those in the Uppers. It was bad enough that people Vanished. The citizens expected that now, and the threat of it was typically enough to keep most in line. Killing them outright, however, was another matter.

Rhyd’s propensity to alcoholic numbness might have been the only thing that had warded off the Heb’s effect as long as it had.

“I’ll be right back.” Keeping Rhyd’s Pass in his hand, Lash left the two alone, trusting that the child would be safe enough for just a few minutes. He could not count on Rhyd having on hand what was needed to reverse a too-high Heb dosage and there wasn’t time to look. Lash knew what he had in his own cupboards, however, but he needed to hurry if he was to administer it before the damage to Rhyd’s system became irreversible.

***