The Cage (39 page)

She took a hesitant step into the room. Several of the black windows had been set into the walls, projecting a variety of different images. Cages. Dozens of them. Not a single one of them theirs. She took a step forward and unfolded one of the blue fabric uniforms. The material was fine, supple but strong. Cerulean, the color of authority. Fearfully, she counted the row of knots down the side.

Twenty knots. Far more than any of the other Kindred she’d seen.

She must have run straight into the Warden’s personal office.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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55

Cora

SHE SCRAMBLED TOWARD THE
wall, but the door didn’t open. She dug in her fingernails, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard she pulled. She must have broken it. She punched at the door. Screamed at it. Frantically, she waded back into the mess of belongings to try to find something to pry the door open. She grabbed one of the arm-length apparatuses, but it was hinged and merely slumped to the ground like liquid. She tossed it away and threw the lid off one of the metal boxes, but paused.

Comic books. Just as she had seen in the market. She pushed the first few aside, but none had a date. Her fingers caught on something hard, and she pulled out a worn hardback book. Her breath stilled as she recognized the faded cover.

Peter Pan and Wendy
. Dog-eared halfway through.

The same copy from Cassian’s bedroom.

Her fingers curled around the book. What did it mean, finding it here? Her mind only reached one conclusion, and a frightened sound slipped out of her throat. The Warden must have found it in Cassian’s room. He must have figured out that Cassian was developing sympathies for the humans.

Had the Warden set Cassian up? Had him followed this entire time, because he knew that Cassian was no longer loyal to him?

She hugged the book tight. This explained the soldiers who’d been waiting for them to break through the fail-safe exit. The Warden must have learned of Cassian’s true loyalties and gotten the information out of him. Had he tortured Cassian? Killed him? No, surely he wouldn’t sacrifice one of his best soldiers. But he might have Cassian imprisoned somewhere, awaiting some awful fate.

She leaned on the desk as the strength leached out of her. They’d gotten Lucky. They’d probably gotten Mali and Leon too. Now it seemed they’d even gotten Cassian. She was trapped in the Warden’s own office.

There would be no escape for her. No ride home on the Mosca traders’ ship. No seeing her parents again, or Charlie, or Sadie bounding across the lawn.

She was about to slump to the floor, hugging Cassian’s book as her one last tie to Earth—to him—when footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. She jerked her head around just in time to see gloved fingers wedge through the doors and manually pry them open.

She braced to fight. Braced to hurl herself at the Warden, and at least make it difficult for them to drag her away. But as soon as she saw the figure standing on the other side, she let the book clatter to the floor in surprise.

That dent in his nose. Those dark eyes filled with concern.

Cassian.

“It’s you.” Her voice twisted with relief as she raced for the doorway. She threw her arms around him, breathing in his scent, feeling the warmth radiating from his uniform. He wore gloves, so the electric jolt of his touch was gone, but she didn’t need it to feel a spark.

“Cora.” His voice was flat. He was cloaked again, but she hadn’t forgotten that passion when he’d shown her his true self. It was there, below this mask. She waited for him to explain what was happening, but he was hesitating. And they couldn’t afford to hesitate. She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door.

“We’ll have to hurry. There were a lot of soldiers. They got Lucky, but there’s a chance that Mali and Leon got to the Mosca’s sector. We can meet them there and hide out until we can figure out how to get Lucky back. You’ll have to come with us on the Mosca ship. The Warden will never forgive you, once he finds out you betrayed him. Once we’re safely off the station we can talk about what comes next. Assuming Earth is still there, I can’t exactly take you back with me. My parents would have a heart attack if I brought
you
home.”

She was so anxious that she was rambling. She tugged on his hand harder, but it was like pulling on a metal dumpster, impossible to budge. She tossed him a confused look.

He seemed to be in no rush.

“Cora. There are things I must tell you.” He swallowed. “I told you before that I had made mistakes. Some very grave ones. I have not been honest with you—”

Confusion hardened like wax in her chest. She was about to ask what he meant when more footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. She froze. Cassian had no reaction other than to curl his fingers around hers, holding her hand, trying to comfort her.

Someone pried the door open again. She gasped as the Warden, Fian, filled the doorway. The cerulean suit that rippled like water. The row of knots down the side. The wrinkle between his eyes that made him always look angry.

She took a step backward, feeling Cassian’s reassuring heat behind her. Was this why Cassian was acting so strange? Had he known the Warden was on his way? His hand still clutched hers—although at this angle, it was starting to hurt. It almost felt like he was holding on to her less for comfort, and more so that she wouldn’t get away.

The Warden took a step into the room, black eyes darting between her and Cassian, and she gritted her teeth. “I swear, I’ll get out again. I figured out the exit without being psychic. I opened the doors without telekinesis. We might not be evolved, but we can still outsmart you.”

Fian studied her with mild disinterest, and then cocked his head toward Cassian.

“We have the others secured. Boy Two is in the medical chambers after sustaining a mild injury. Girl Three is already in the holding cells. Soldiers are still in pursuit of Boy Three.” His cold eyes slid to Cora. “Shall I take her to the holding cells as well?”

The room seemed to spin. Cora felt gravity pulling her like a ride at an amusement park. Why was Fian addressing Cassian with deference, when Fian was the one in charge? They were standing in Fian’s office. His uniform was right there on the counter. Cassian was merely the hired help. The jailer. Disgraced and demoted to the lowest position.

“No.” Cassian’s voice was stiff. “I will take her myself.”

“Very well, Warden.”

Warden?

The word knocked the air out of her. Her head kept spinning, spinning, spinning, like the ride was going faster. He wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t trying to fight his way out with her. Her eyes fell on the copy of
Peter Pan and Wendy
on the floor.

Was it there because it was
Cassian’s
office?

She tore away from him before he could tighten his grip. “You’re. . . the Warden,” she whispered. “You’ve been giving orders this entire time. Serassi, Tessela, those researchers . . . even Fian. They all work for you.”

He stepped forward, towering over her. “I will explain.”

“No . . . I get it now. You’ve been pulling the strings. You’ve been changing the weather, and speeding up time, and giving us headaches. You’ve been trying to break us—to break
me
—to see how far we can evolve.”

A wave of disbelief overcame her, and she staggered against the wall. She was back in the deep of the ocean, fighting for breath, body screaming in pain. He might as well have wrapped his own two hands around her neck and strangled her, because that was what his betrayal felt like. Memories of all their times together assailed her head. The first day, where he had rescued her. The day in the bookstore where she’d admitted to herself that she was curious about him. Standing in the snow as he gave her the charm necklace back. And the kiss. The kiss was the worst memory of all, because despite everything, thinking of it still made her falter.

She had never felt so trapped, like the walls were pressing in. His black eyes took her in: the bruises on her arm where she had fallen, the salt water in her hair and damp sweat on her chest. Hope drained from her fingertips.

She didn’t have words. She didn’t even have thoughts, except this one: there
had
been a mole. All this time, there had been someone spying on them, manipulating them, toying with them. The mole had come not as a fellow human captive, but as a sympathetic guard who they would pour their hearts out to.

Exactly as she had done.

His eyes found hers, and his hand started to flex at his side. Her heart twisted. It was too late for that. He couldn’t pretend like he felt something, when everything had been a lie.

“I will escort her to the medical sector, Fian. Leave us.” Cassian reached out a hand, but Cora shied away like an unbroken horse.

“No.” She took a step backward, never taking her eyes off his, until she was standing next to Fian. “I’ll go with your soldier. You’ve already done your job.” She nearly spit the last word at him. He started to speak, but she turned before he could answer, and let Fian calmly slide the shackles over her wrists.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

56

Cora

FIAN TOOK HER TO
Serassi, who fixed the bruises on her arm methodically. Serassi didn’t speak. The device in her hand didn’t hum. There was only silence, which made the betrayal all the more deafening. Once Cora was healed, Serassi made her strip to her camisole and panties, and a team of Kindred came in stiff blue uniforms. One gripped her by the neck while another examined her left hand, then the right, inspecting each finger front and back like a horse at auction. A third pressed his fingers into her sides, as though counting each rib, then felt the muscles along each side of her spine. They took an excruciatingly long time prodding at her right ear.

An inspection, just as Fian had done the first day, when she’d thought he was the Warden. Cassian must have set it up that way so that he could rescue Cora, and she would start to trust him.

The inspector and his team left as abruptly as they had come. She dropped to the hard floor, too shaky to stand. She imagined they were determining if she was best suited for the brothels, or the fight clubs, or the cells where children were made to do tricks. Would Cassian be the one to make the call? Maybe he’d take pity on her, after his betrayal, and spare her the Harem. Or maybe he didn’t care at all.

An hour passed, maybe longer. Another Kindred came, with three knots on his uniform, and took her to a room full of plain cells. A true prison this time. When he locked the cell, she expected the hinges to groan, and the lock to
thunk
, to echo the slamming sounds of her heart. But it closed as smoothly and silently as everything in the Kindred’s world.

Cora caught sight of Lucky and Mali, each locked in individual cells a few doors down, separated from each other by an aisle. Cora tried to yell to them, but her voice only bounced around the perimeter of her cell. Lucky shouted back, but she heard nothing. Their cells must have been soundproofed.

Cora grabbed the bars.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed.

A bandage covered half his face. His other eye had a deep circle under it, but he nodded. In the cell beside him, Mali merely pressed her lips together in an expression Cora couldn’t quite read, but it looked grim.

Cora let go of the bars and paced her cell, still feeling the crushing weight of Cassian’s betrayal. A worry struck her, and she jerked up her head. Had Mali known all along that Cassian was the Warden? But one more glance in Mali’s direction showed sunken, hollow eyes and a hardened mouth—Mali was just as disappointed as Cora was. Cassian had been Mali’s friend too.

For hours, Cora paced in the cell. Serassi had given her new clothes to wear. Plain black robes with a single knot at the shoulder, which Cora could only assume was a sign of their status now, the lowest of the low. Lucky and Mali wore the same robe. The constellation markings on their necks were gone, nothing to identify them as a gender or even a number.

It was clear the Kindred weren’t returning them to the cage. So what would happen to them? And what had happened to Nok and Rolf? There were no toilets, no food, which meant the Kindred couldn’t be planning to keep them there for long. Words that Mali and Cassian had both hinted at scrolled through her mind:
Drugged girls. Dead girls. Private owners. Menageries.

The door at the end of the room opened. Cassian entered.

Cora looked away. She didn’t want to see those lips she had kissed. Those eyes that had cleared like storm clouds. His approaching footsteps were heavy and slow. From the corner of her eye, she saw his fingers curl around the bars of her cell. She could almost convince herself that he was feeling something. Regret, maybe. But she snatched back those traitorous thoughts. Any true emotion he had shown her had been a trick.

“Cora.”

His voice was so quiet that, huddled in the farthest part of the cell, she could almost pretend he hadn’t spoken.

“I brought you something.” He slid an object through the bars, and her heart clenched. The little red radio with dials like a smiling face. Nok’s radio. Did this mean that Nok didn’t need it anymore—that they’d transferred her somewhere? And what about Rolf? She glanced at Lucky and Mali, who watched them but couldn’t hear past their own cells. A part of Cora wanted to lunge for this small comfort he was offering—voices on the airwaves, a link to home—but she didn’t want anything from him. She hugged her legs closer.

Cassian’s hand curled on the bar. “I wish to explain.”