Captives (11 page)

Shaylinn shrugged one shoulder. Maybe if she listened, Ciddah would go away.

Ciddah opened the box and turned it so Shaylinn could see the contents. Inside was a thick black cylinder, like an Old lipstick, and three clear tubes filled with yellowish liquid.

“Here are your hormone meds.” She lifted the black cylinder out of the box. “This is a personal vaporizer—some call it a PV. PVs are so much nicer than swallowing pills or getting injections. You open it like this.” She twisted it at the middle and pulled it apart. “Then you insert one of the vials.” She set one of the clear tubes inside the PV with the pointed side down. “And when you put the PV back together and twist, it punctures the vial, and you’re ready to go. Take one long breath from the PV three times a day. With each meal is fine. When it runs out, this little light will turn red. That means you need to put in a new vial. Think you can do that?”

Shaylinn shook her head. “I’d rather swallow a pill.”

Ciddah frowned. Her lips were perfect too. “Are you sure? PVs are very easy to use.”

“I don’t want it.” It looked like the pipes the men from Jack’s Peak smoked. And her mother had told her smoking was a nasty thing to do.

Ciddah nodded and stood. “All right. Why don’t you get dressed and meet me out front? Your clothes are in the cupboard. I’ll get some pills ready for you. Would you like help?”

Shaylinn shook her head. “I’m okay.”

“I’ll see you in a few minutes, Shaylinn. Just come out the door and walk to the right.”

Shaylinn stayed perfectly still as she watched Ciddah tap her fist against a black square beside the door to open it.

The door whooshed closed behind Ciddah, and Shaylinn jumped
up and opened the cupboard. Her dress was hanging on a hook inside. She grabbed it and went to stand in front of the door, changing with one foot pressed against it in case anyone tried to enter. Once she was dressed, she set her left fist against the pad by the door like Ciddah had. Nothing happened. She lifted her right fist and gasped. It had a white number four on it.
When did I get that?
She rubbed the number, but it didn’t come off. She set her right fist against the pad, and the door popped open.

A bright hallway stretched in both directions, lined with doors spaced evenly along each side. She could hear voices coming from the right, the way Ciddah had told her to go. At the end of the hallway to the left, a glowing green exit sign hung from the ceiling. Shaylinn slipped out into the hall and ran to the left until she reached the exit sign. There was no door, but the hallway took a turn to the right, and Shaylinn could see another exit sign at the end of a shorter hall.

She ran to it and slammed her fist against the pad in hopes this door worked like the others. Slowly, it opened into a cool cement stairwell with steps going up and down. She ran down, winding around and around. She tired quickly, certain her heart was going to give out altogether.

And suddenly there were no more stairs. Shaylinn paused to catch her breath and listen for footsteps behind her. Silence. Satisfied that she’d evaded her captor, Shaylinn used her fist to open the final door.

She exited into the night and let the door close behind her. Buildings towered overhead, higher than any tree, so tall they blurred against the dark sky and made Shaylinn feel dizzy. She wandered forward, staring up at the structures, feeling like she was floating in outer space.

She was in the city. She’d always dreamed of coming inside. Now … where should she go? Which way was home?

A siren howled and faded in a breath, like some kind of electric bird call. Then lights flooded the area, blinding her. She raised her arm to block the glare and stumbled back toward the exit door.

“Shaylinn Zachary?” a man’s voice called. It sounded tinny and seemed to come from above her head.

She spun, pressed against the exit door, and looked to see who was out there. It was no use. The lights were too bright. She inched to the right, sliding along the door, then the wall of the building.
Please, God! Keep me safe.

“Don’t move,” the voice warned.

But she couldn’t stay there and let them impregnate her. On the count of three, she’d run. Once she got away from the lights, she’d be able to see. Then she could make a better decision of where to go. Anywhere had to be better than this building.

One … two … three!

Shaylinn ran blindly. Before her, the shape of a road materialized. But just as she sped toward it, she heard a buzz like the sound of a rattlesnake. Something pinched her hand, cramping every muscle, and she felt her face strike the ground. She told the rattlesnake to let go, but the words never came out. She couldn’t move or speak or even breathe.

Then the attack ended.

“Why you shells won’t listen …” the voice said.

It was some time before Shaylinn came back to consciousness. When she awoke, a man was pulling her out of the back of a car. Her limbs trembled when she stood, and her hands and face burned. Thick scrapes dotted with spots of blood covered both palms.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. Shaylinn didn’t cry. She was tough like her dad and Jordan, not girly like Jemma. She could get through whatever this was.

“Come on, femme. Let’s get you back where you belong.” The man was one of those enforcers, dressed in the dark blue uniform. He had pale, papery skin and a rounded frizz of carrot-red hair. He wore no helmet. It probably wouldn’t fit even if he tried. The patch on his uniform said
Ewan.

She followed Ewan through a revolving glass door of a building. Was this the same building she’d escaped from? He led her through a lobby. The ceiling was so low she was sure it would fall down and crush her. The place was filled with dark wood furniture cushioned in forest green brocade, and potted plants that were arranged into sitting
areas. Stiff carpet in a pattern of gold, blue, and orange covered the floor. Lights made of crystals dripped from the ceiling.

It was simultaneously ugly and beautiful.

There were people too, dressed in clothing that looked new and clean and strange. Quite a few people wore combinations of black and pale yellow, making Shaylinn think of a room filled with swallowtail butterflies. A frail woman looked Shaylinn up and down with a gaze of surprise and disapproval. She wore a black fitted dress with a thick yellow belt, and her skin looked yellower than normal. The woman lifted a slender, black cylinder to her lips and blew out a plume of black smoke.

Smoking black things? No wonder the poor woman looked so unhealthy. Shaylinn was glad she’d refused Ciddah’s pipe.

Ewan led her to where three sets of polished wooden doors stood evenly spaced along one wall. He pressed a button on the wall. A soft bell chimed, and one of the doors slid open.

“An elevator,” Shaylinn whispered to herself.

Ewan raised his eyebrows and motioned her inside. She obeyed. Ewan followed her in and pressed the button with a number five on it, and soon the door glided closed. The floor hardly seemed to move, though her body felt like it was being stretched upward. She set her hand on the wall.

Moments later, the elevator appeared to stop, and the stretching feeling was replaced by a queasy flutter in her stomach. The doors slid open, accompanied by the soft ding of the bell. Shaylinn followed Ewan out into another wide hallway; this one had red and black swirly carpeting with gold accents. The ceiling was three times as high as the one downstairs and had fancy crystal lights dripping from it. The hallway led to a set of wide golden doors that had a strange image carved into them, a creature with hooves that was a woman and a cat and a bird all at once.

Shaylinn didn’t like her.

Ewan touched his fist to the wall, and when he pulled back his hand, Shaylinn saw the little black square on the wall beside the door.

Moments later, the door opened, and a tall, very shapely woman looked down her nose like Shaylinn was rotten apples. She wore a silky purple jacket and skirt and black high-heeled shoes that made Shaylinn smile and blurt out, “I didn’t know anyone still wore those kinds of shoes.”

The woman gripped the open door with one hand and held her other hand out to the side, a gold pipe as long and thin as one of Omar’s paintbrushes tucked between her fingers.

“This the one you lost?” she asked Ewan.

“I didn’t lose her, Matron. She ran off from the Surrogacy Center.”

Matron frowned and looked Shaylinn over. “Praise Fortune they all don’t look like this one.” She sucked on her paintbrush pipe and exhaled purple smoke in Shaylinn’s face.

Shaylinn held her breath, expecting to choke, but there was no smokiness or smell at all to the purple cloud—simply moisture.

“Well, don’t just stand there, outsider girl. Come in!”

Shaylinn stepped through the door and into a fairytale palace. The carpet was white and plush. It was clean and so very soft on her feet, nothing like the old, dirty, and mildewed carpets in Glenrock’s homes. The room was also humongous: a big rectangle with a ceiling as high as the one in the hallway. It had all kinds of fancy chairs and couches, topped with red and gold cushions, and little round tables of dark wood. The ceiling was painted gold and dripped with gold and crystal lights. Two doors took up the left wall. A stairway with a banister made of curling, polished wood stretched along the right wall with a landing halfway up and another one at the top. Straight ahead, a wall made of windows scooped out in a half circle as tall as the ceiling and looked out over a green field.

Matron walked past Shaylinn with little steps, and held her arms bent at the elbows so that her hands dangled as if they were wet and she didn’t want to drip on her clothing.

“I’ve done the spiel already for all your ungrateful friends, so I’ll be brief with you. If you have questions, ask your suitemates. Understood?”

What a grouch. “Yes, ma’am.”

Matron rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-seven years old. Do
not
call me ma’am. In fact, don’t call anyone in the Safe Lands ma’am,
understood?
”

“Sorry,” Shaylinn said.

Matron tossed her head and exhaled. “This is the harem, otherwise known as the home for women with a ticket to paradise. While you’re conscripted here, you do not leave the harem unaccompanied. If you need anything, call Sona. She’s the harem’s housekeeper.” Matron inhaled from her pipe and blew it out quickly. “You’re very fortunate to be here. Minors are rarely admitted to the harem, but the task director general has made an exception for reasons he has not made known to me. Should you conceive, like your darling friend Naomi, you’ll become an icon in the Safe Lands. Royalty among women.”

She leveled an unfriendly glance at Shaylinn. “I understand you’re one of the first to undergo the procedure. But from where I’m standing, it looks like we’ll have to get you more than a makeover. More like a renovation.” She chuckled, and it ended in a singsong sigh. “Never fear, though. Our Tyra is a miracle worker. Believe it or not, I’ve seen her transform women much worse off than you.”

This should have felt like a slap to the face, but the idea of a makeover thrilled Shaylinn more than she cared to admit even to herself.

“I’m Matron Dlorah, by the way. The administrator of this establishment.” She took a long puff from her pipe and blew it into the air, looking at the far wall. “I’m not climbing those stairs again today, so you’re on your own to find your room. I’d ask Sona to help, but she’s run to the G.I.N. —an everything store of sorts—to buy blueberries. Naomi said they were her favorite. You’re in the Blue Diamond Suite. It’s on the second floor. Just take the stairs halfway and go down that hallway. Kendall Collin is your suite mentor, so Fortune’s blessed you there if nowhere else. Off you go, then.”

Shaylinn followed Matron’s instructions and found her way to a door that had a plaque proclaiming the room to be the Blue Diamond Suite. She was tired, and her hands and face hurt. If she could just find
a bathroom and some water, she’d feel better. She pressed her fist to the black square beside the door, and it swung inward, revealing a very pregnant teenage girl. Stunningly pretty, really, with golden brown hair, a peaches and cream complexion, and bright green eyes.

“Hello,” the girl said. “You must be Shaylinn, yes?”

“I am.”

“Shay!” The door jerked open wider, and Jemma pushed past the pregnant girl and gabbed Shaylinn in a fierce hug. “Oh, Shay! Thank God. I was so worried! Where have you been? What happened to your face?” Jemma let go and pulled Shaylinn inside. “Come in and sit. I’ll get something to help you clean it up.”

Jemma dragged Shaylinn inside what seemed like a home. Everything was bright blue or white or polished wood. The carpet was the same soft white. There was a gleaming wood table and chairs, a small kitchen that flowed from one side of the room, and a sheet of glass that took up most of one wall and was so thin it looked to be painted onto the surface. There were also two couches. Mia and Naomi were each sitting on a different one. Shaylinn was so relieved to see their familiar faces.

Jemma sat Shaylinn on the sofa beside their sister-in-law Naomi, who turned Shaylinn’s chin from side to side. A pearly number eight on Naomi’s cheek caught Shaylinn’s gaze. Shaylinn looked to Jemma, who had the number four. Mia, a number eight. The pregnant teen who’d welcomed her had a number one.

“They put numbers on our faces and hands?” Shaylinn asked. “Like the enforcers?”

“Everyone who lives here has them,” Mia said.

Shaylinn looked at her hand. “There’s a four on my face?”

“Just like me,” Jemma said, sitting down and gently rubbing a wet cloth over Shaylinn’s scraped cheek. It stung a little.

“Because we’re related?” Shaylinn asked. Naomi and Mia were cousins.

“Maybe,” Jemma said.

Shaylinn touched her other cheek. It felt a little swollen, but maybe
that side was just scraped up too. “What do you think they mean?” she asked her sister.

“I don’t know,” Jemma said, starting to wipe Shaylinn’s right palm. “We didn’t ask for the number, and if the Safe Landers have them, I worry they have some terrible meaning. Hopefully everything will be revealed soon.”