Rose would have preferred to have been sent out alone.
She knows it's foolish to think. Even if the elder hadn't told her to meet the others at the armoury, even if the Huntsclan had no reason to doubt her loyalty or Jake's, she wouldn't have expected to be sent alone. It simply isn't done. On such missions, it is protocol to have at least two agents out. Given her closeness with Jake, she'd expected to be sent with at least one elder as a minder.
She did not expect to be the minder.
She was told to oversee the field training of two initiates, but she could see the truth of the matter within minutes of meeting them; she hadn't needed the trip from the armoury to their current location to cement her suspicions.
88 and 89 are new, within their first year of pledging to the Huntsclan, and they shouldn't have been cleared to accompany her on a mission of this calibre. She remembers the two who used to wear their numbers, a boy who had transferred after being compromised in a training accident and a girl who had chosen to take on a new number once it had become available.
The former 88 and 89 would have been well suited to accompany her on this mission.
These two….
These two are not. If they had done anything of note, she would have known. They'd have been lauded for it, and she'd have made a point of remembering them, as she always does with those who stand out.
These two haven't done anything. She barely knows them. Neither she nor Jake have any training with the newest initiates, and she wouldn't recognize them without their masks. He might, possibly having run into them within the boys' dormitories, but she doubts he would be able to match their faces to their numbers.
The three of them stand just within one of the entrances to the Huntsclan's labyrinth of interconnected bases, shrouded in shadow. The light filtering in from the window is dingy and yellowed, the glass clouded in a perfect match of the other windows in the building, and the air reeks of frying oil. The restaurant at the front has every appearance of changing hands frequently, and the Huntsclan has been very careful to keep off the American Dragon's radar. It's not within Chinatown, but it's near enough.
Rose is in charge. This is her mission to fail or to complete. 88 and 89 are to follow her lead; they won't leave for the street until she makes the call. As Rose watches, 88 pulls down his mask to pick his nose in a move that is not nearly as surreptitious as he clearly thinks it is, and 89 shifts on nervous feet, holding his chosen weapon—a spear—so loosely that a strong breeze could have knocked it from his hand.
The Huntsclan elders expect me to fail. The realization is disquieting but not altogether surprising. They are setting her up for failure. They must suspect her involvement in Jake's disappearance but have no proof, and they will use the debacle this mission will become as an excuse to strip her of the rank of Huntsgirl.
The only upside of all of this is that it is further confirmation that they haven't the barest inkling of Jake's secret. Even to test her, they wouldn't risk sending such green initiates on a mission so important.
Rose bites her lip, glances towards the window once more, and makes her decision. "Up the stairs." If Jake has gone to the American Dragon, every magical creature in the city will be on alert. Taking to the rooftops is risky but less so than the street. They were instructed to stay in uniform, something else that she suspects is meant to hasten her failure. Her defiance of such an order, if it comes to that, will only be overlooked if the mission is deemed a success, but she knows they cannot stay on the rooftops forever. If they remain in uniform when they are forced back down to streel level, the simple truth is that they would not have blended in even if 89 had chosen a weapon that is more easily concealed.
Not that she believes 88 can use the nunchaku he chose from the armoury, but hopefully he will not injure her or Jake if he is forced to use it.
The problem with 88 and 89 is that they will not hesitate to report back to the Huntsclan if they discover even a whisper of Jake's nature. It would immediately catapult them towards the fame they obviously seek, and they would preen and live off the reputation of exposing a dragon hiding within the midst of the Huntsclan itself. Rose's claims of ignorance, for she would have no choice but to claim ignorance, likely would not be believed.
Similarly, if Rose finds the American Dragon, it might come out that she's been compromised. The American Dragon may not have advertised that she knows Huntsgirl's face to the wider magical community, but if there's even a hint of familiarity between them, a mention of a past encounter that Rose didn't report—
Rose needs to find the American Dragon while avoiding her, search for Jake yet keep him hidden, and not let either of the fools before her be any the wiser.
It should be an easier task than when being watched by one of the elders, but Rose can predict the movements of the elders.
She cannot predict what 88 and 89 might do.
88 shifts, pretends to have been rubbing his nose, and adjusts his mask before wiping his hand on his thigh. "How far?"
Rose lets out a slow breath. "All the way. We're taking the high road." They stay where they are, so after a beat, she cuts through them and starts off in the direction of the stairs.
"There's a high road?" 89 whispers loudly at her back, but she does not hear 88 give a response. She hopes the reason that these two didn't move on her order is merely that they don't know the way—this entrance isn't often used—and not because they've been given orders to betray her in the field.
It's not an order given often, but she's seen it written in a report before.
If that's the case here, then the Huntsclan has already labelled her a traitor. Her desperate planning, piecemeal though it is, would be for nothing. 88 and 89 would be her distractions, fodder for her to fight when they inevitably botch their attempt to take care of her, and one of the elders—perhaps even the Huntsmaster himself—would deal with her appropriately.
She is skilled.
She is not so skilled that she could withstand a coordinated attack planned by the likes of the Huntsmaster, even knowing his combat style as she does.
88 and 89 blunder loudly behind her up the stairs, and Rose is thankful that the noises of the kitchen behind the false wall offer sufficient cover and that those who live above the restaurant know better than to ask questions.
It takes entirely too long for them to reach the top. The two initiates are out of breath once they arrive, a full ten seconds behind her. She has already scouted out their position and knows it is clear, but instead of fanning out and flanking her, 88 and 89 stagger only far enough out onto the rooftop to close the door behind them. 88 nearly bends double, planting his hands on his knees, and 89 sags against the spear as if it is the only support keeping him upright. A swift kick would easily send him sprawling—the butt of the spear is hardly firmly planted—but while it would be a lesson to them, it is not a lesson she wants to teach now.
If they aren't on their toes, then it'll be easier for her to find a way to do what she must.
Still, their general lack of competence makes her rethink the idea that the Huntsclan has already planned an attack on her. They must know she'd be suspicious after being paired with these two; any member of the Huntsclan worth their salt would be on their guard.
An attempt to discredit her and strip her of her title is preferable to already being labelled as compromised and a threat.
"Stay aware," she warns them when they finally join her at the roof's edge. She ignores their whimpers; the jump to the next building is something they should be able to do easily with a running start, though she supposes it would be unfair not to point out the shorter distance to the fire escape. 88 doesn't look particularly confident that he'd make either jump, but if they haven't failed their training, they'd have leapt farther over the pit in the training grounds. No one who falls in once falls again—assuming they are ever able to make the leap again.
Maybe she just needs to find the right motivation.
Maybe she doesn't want to.
It would be easier to accomplish everything she needs to do if she could just leave them behind, though that would only invite more problems later. Directly disobeying the order to train them will not win her any favours.
"We'll be moving quickly and silently," she says before going on to explain their route. 88 and 89 protest—of course they do—and try to say that taking the street would be much easier, much more efficient, and she snaps back that it's also far less covert before she can control her temper.
She's worried about Jake.
She's worried about herself.
The Huntsclan is the only family they've ever known, the only life they've ever known, and Rose isn't sure she can still pretend it's the safe haven it had once been for either of them now.
