Plague Saint [REMOVING FOR PUBLICATION JUNE 1]

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Blades

The crowd was beyond control now. The shock on Marcus' face made Winter grin. It might not have been a good idea, but if she was going to be exposed either way, it may as well have been on her terms. And the people were chanting "Plague Saint" again, and the doors to city hall flew open and a group dragged Mayor Atherton out into the center of the crowd.

Marcus knelt down and said something inaudible to Bates. No response. Was she dead? Marcus' gaze moved up to Winter, and her racing heart was ready to give out.

"Winter. Come on. This has gone too far."

"You took things too far when you tried to kill my mother," Winter hissed.

"You cannot let the crowd kill the mayor. This is a mob, Winter. Mobs are stupid. Reckless. Dangerous." Marcus gestured to the screaming faces behind him. "You're insane if you don't think innocent people are going to get killed."

"Innocent people have already been dying!" Winter yelled. "Who are you to lecture me? You think you're better than me? Smarter?"

But he was right. Angry people were dangerous. Winter knew that firsthand. She gritted her teeth. "The plague already has the mayor." Winter announced to the crowd, pointing with her blade. "Look at him, he's as good as dead. Leave him be and tend to your sick."

The crowd took a few steps back from Atherton, but no one was going anywhere yet. Atherton coughed and looked around, desperation in his eyes. When they found Marcus, relief flickered across his face. "Blackburn! What's going on? Your cure was supposed to save us."

"I'm afraid the cure was stolen from us before it reached our drinks." Marcus fingers grazed his dagger's handle, but it wasn't going to do him any good.

Atherton looked up. "Is that the Plague Saint? A girl?"

"She's not—"

"I am," Winter cut him off. "And your days of taking lives have come to an end."

"Blackburn, you have more cure somewhere, right?" Atherton asked. "Please, I—" His words were drowned out in the crowd's rising anger.

"You haven't won yet, Winter," Marcus said. "I can make cure too, and I can still make sure my contraption doesn't fail." He hopped off the edge of the fountain and started into the crowd.

"Blackburn?" Atherton yelled. "Blackburn? Hello?"

Without thinking, Winter leapt off the top of the fountain. Her feet hit the edge and she stumbled forward, barely catching herself before she could hit the ground. Her cry of pain was lost in the rising voices of the mob.

She ran after Marcus, blade at the ready. She nearly lost him a few times in the crowd, but managed to keep an eye on him until they emerged at the edge of the square. Marcus stopped and whirled around. His dagger cut through the air and barely missed Winter's face.

Winter swung back. Marcus dodged easily, and his next strike grazed her upper arm. She staggered back out of his reach, tightening her grip and biting back a cry of pain.

Marcus laughed. "You can't beat me in combat."

"At your best, maybe," Winter said, feigning confidence. "But you don't look great. You feeling all right?"

Marcus glared at her. "Ideally, I would have taken more cure before coming to check on Bates Atherton, and the other council members she said weren't feeling well when she called. Unfortunately, the latest batch I started preparing isn't quite ready."

"You might want to go check on that, then." Winter kept her blade pointed at him and her eyes glued to his own dagger, bracing herself for his next move.

"And let you wreak havoc across the city? I think not. I'll be fine." Despite that statement, Marcus coughed into his arm. Once he recovered, he took a step toward Winter. She took a step back.

"I am assuming it was you who stole our cure last night, after all," Marcus pressed.

Winter responded with a laugh. "It was easy. All I had to do was disguise myself as a church maiden."

Marcus shook his head. "When did you poison Bates? And Atherton? Or did you just poison one and got lucky when it spread through the council?" His eyes narrowed. "If you used similar combinations to what you used on Adams and Gordon, then it must have been—"

"Oh, I didn't use my own combination. I used your own poison against you." Winter laughed again. Marcus hadn't figured it out the extent of what she'd done that night. He might have physically been able to hold off symptoms a little longer, thanks to taking a small amount of cure, but his brain was clearly rattled. Or maybe he was as sleep deprived as her.

Marcus swung. Winter yelped in surprise and jumped back.

"The only other poison I had was on my boat—the river. You jumped in the river." Marcus hissed and swung again. "And the assembly meeting was probably a perfect opportunity for you to, what, break into the mayor's office? His home? Poison something there?"

Winter responded with more cold laughter. "How many people have you talked to this morning? How many calls have you gotten from your friends crying about how sick they are? Because I promise you're going to get more." She lunged forward and slashed at Marcus' hand. He yanked it back and she missed, but her next swing left a light gash in his side.

"Oh, wait." Winter moved backwards before he could retaliate. "The dead can't make phone calls. My bad."

"How many people did you—?" More coughing. Marcus wiped blood from the side of his mouth.

Winter smirked. She couldn't help herself, no matter how loud some part of her screamed that this was too much, too far, too insane. "You know, I didn't take the cure with me, I just hid it in the prep room at the church."

Marcus' eyes widened. "You think you can trick me?"

"I'm not lying." Winter shrugged. "I couldn't sneak it out with all those maidens and priestesses running around. Awkward enough as it was hiding another bottle in my gown."

"What other bottle?"

Winter's smile widened into a cold grin.

Marcus looked back over his shoulder, at the church in the distance, clearly weighing his options and trying to trace Winter's thinking. If he went after the cure there, that would give Winter more time to help Phoebe and River replace the poison in the contraption with cure.

He broke into a run toward the church, just as Winter had hoped. Sure, the contraption wasn't much farther, but any extra time they could get was valuable.

She began her sprint to the edge of the city, and another thought crossed her mind. If Marcus found the cure, she might lose her only chance to end his plans. Even if they stopped him today, he wasn't going to quit as long as he was breathing.

Running was harder than Winter thought it would be. She reassured herself that she hadn't had much sleep and that she'd been racing around the city all morning. But there was an ache creeping into her body that felt like more than just exhaustion.

To her surprise, the sounds of the angry mob she'd stirred up weren't quieting. In fact, they seemed to be getting louder. Were they going to the hospital? Or were they trying to follow her?

She kept going, kept thinking, until she was forced to make a choice. Stop Blackburn. Find Phoebe and River.

She veered toward the church.