Leo's mouth moved. It took Aria a second to understand it was a smile, pulled up on the side where his lip wasn't split.
He lifted his bound hands an inch off his lap. A wave.
"Keep coming," Valérie said.
Aria had put the phone in her coat pocket on the first flight. The voice came out of it small and pleased.
Aria kept coming.
The last flight ended in water. It closed over the toes of her sneakers, black and flat, smelling of rust and salt. She waded out into the circle of the lamp.
Up close, Leo looked worse. The bruise on his cheekbone had gone yellow at the edges, and a newer one sat on top of it, dark as a plum. Dried blood crusted his hairline. Someone had cinched plastic ties around his wrists so tight that his hands had swollen. His feet were bare on the wet timber.
"Hi, Sister Aria," Leo said.
His voice was hoarse, and calm.
"Hi." Aria's throat closed around the rest. "Are you—"
"Ask me later." His good eye went past her into the dark. "Jade?"
