The shrieking deafened. I looked up to see my companion wince.
“I think I made it worse.”
I stared. “No kidding? What’s Plan B?”
“I don’t have a Plan B. You were my Plan B.”
I frowned, contemplation taking my mind. There were some options. I could kill my partner, leave this mess behind. Otherwise I could, no we, we could slip away unknown; but our prize lost behind more guards and locked doors. The death of my partner would rile people and distract them.
The shrieking pierced my ears annoyingly. We could kill her, the woman making the commotion. That would actually work.
I studied the tiny closet we were in. Not a proper weapon in sight. Damn it.
“Do you have a knife?” I asked.
“I have this one.”
The knife offered to me was as long as my index finger, and as dull as a hunk of wood. I gave it back. “Anything useful?”
“For killing the woman.”
“She’s my mother!”
Ah, yes. That.
“You can’t kill my mother!”
“Then our plan is this: Go out there and talk to her. Lead her away to some other place to calm her down. Then I can steal the jewel.”
“I haven’t spoken to her in years! And exactly what would I say about being in the closet anyway? Also, there are bats out there. The ones I just released. I don’t like bats. I hate bats. Why did it have to be bats?”
“Because bats fly and rats are worse.”
“Why not butterflies?”
Glaring at each other, we sat a moment in silence.