CHAPTER 41
Susan
Susan pulled her scooter up to the entrance of the sewage-treatment plant. She hadn’t exactly been shocked to hear from Evangelina that Ember’s gang were holed up in the sewers beneath Winoka.
If movies and books have taught us anything, she told herself as she pulled the keys out of the ignition, it’s that villains are drawn to dank underground caverns and, let’s not forget, the smell of shit.
She popped the kickstand so the scooter could stand. Strangely, she felt optimistic about her chances here tonight. In fact, she began to wish she’d trimmed her bangs before setting out. And possibly shaved her armpits.
Readjusting her backpack, she walked into the main building of the treatment plant. It wasn’t locked—why would it be? Nobody knew they were holed up in there except supercreepy Evangelina (and she sure hadn’t been talking . . . they’d had to drag all this crap out of her!).
As she had expected, there wasn’t anyone in the office area . . . too small and confined a space for three or four dragons to whomp around in. Also, their tails would probably knock over the copier and the file cabinet.
She’d tried to imagine where Gautierre would be held in such a place. Not primary or secondary treatment; too much crashy-bangy equipment. Not tertiary and certainly not odor removal (thank you, eighth-grade science report).
No, pretreatment was the place to start. It was fairly close, it wasn’t especially complicated or noisy, and, for funsies, Gautierre could suffer in a smelly prison.
Her time in Big Blue had given Susan new insight into weredragons: they were regular people who could occasionally fly and belch fire. That was it. That was all there was to them. Even Jennifer Scales.
Big Blue had wiped away a lot of her awe. It wasn’t hard to be enchanted and thrilled by something so magical and fairy-tale-esque as dragons when they were rare and flashed by every hundred years; but when you saw them be crabby and careless, or make dumb decisions based on fatigue or too much caffeine, or get pissy when things didn’t go their way (which had all the charm of watching someone blow their nose), it got harder to stay impressed.
So she was cautious, sure, and careful, yep, but mostly she was annoyed at Ember’s intransigence and the cost everyone around her had to pay for it. Susan had learned better in kindergarten.
What did it say for the rest of Domeland if the grown-ups were acting like selfish teenagers, and the teenagers had to be the adults?
Rise of the Poison Moon
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