“Kelley isn’t the only Created to arrive in London thus far. Numerous reports suggest an influx of gifted, natural and created, individuals have already descended upon us. We have even had sightings of famed assassin Natalia Lyons, whose whereabouts have been a mystery since she led a group of UNITED agents in a raid at the country estate of Lord Nigel Monroe, Duke of Shrewsbury and London Isle.”
My face flashed across the screen. I had no idea when the picture was taken, but I looked fierce, determined, and worst of all, lethal.
“Bias much?” I muttered.
James laughed. “WOF isn’t known for fair and just reporting. They are no friends to Chromes.” He hesitated. “But this isn’t good news, Talia. We knew you’d been seen. We thought UNITED would quash the rumors, though. They don’t want your abilities falling into the wrong hands.”
I felt a wall of dread slam into my back, knocking the wind out of me. Would the twists ever stop coming? I wondered. Kenly and James had yet another secret to tell me, but neither wanted to be the bearer of bad news.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” I said through clenched teeth.
Behind me, Kenly let out a long, shaky breath. “Have you heard of proposition 2690?” she asked, almost hopeful. That was when I realized that she was hopeful—hopeful that I already knew whatever she wanted to tell me so that she wouldn’t be forced to say the words aloud.
“No, why?” This time, I did turn around. On screen, the reporter was still jabbering away, but I tuned him out. “Kenly,” I warned when she wasn’t forthcoming.
“So, you know how there isn’t enough room on the islands for all of the refugees?”
I nodded.
“UNITED is doing a lottery. Sort of. They’ve already selected the names, but the process wasn’t entirely random. Nearly half of the individuals were chosen based on certain factors that UNITED finds important. Scientists, teachers, exceptionally strong Talents, sports stars, celebrities—you get the picture. The rest were, to a degree, random.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. This was not a surprise. In a closed society, people with certain skills were imperative. It was unfortunate but true. I didn’t understand why Kenly and James were so bothered by it. Maybe I was just too cynical.
“Yesterday morning, twenty-eight hundred names were added to the lottery list,” Kenly continued.
“Hmmm, that is odd,” I hedged, still unclear as to the significance.
“I found it odd, too. So, I cross-referenced that number with the populations of the individual islands, the number of Created in containment, and so on. Well, I got a hit. There are exactly twenty-eight hundred Level Four and Five inmates on Vault.”
I didn’t need her to connect the dots this time. Realization dawned with the subtlety of a frying pan to the back of my skull. UNITED was planning to execute prisoners to make room for refugees. In a weird, twisted way, it made sense.
And in an even weirder and more twisted way, the news made me feel better. It wasn’t personal. Victoria hadn’t voted to kill me specifically. She’d made a tough call that made logical sense. I mean, I was still pissed at the councilwoman, but I no longer felt the deep stab of betrayal. I would have preferred to hear the truth from Victoria herself, instead of Konterra’s warped version of the truth. But I wasn’t blind to my own faults. Victoria had kept the possibly of my execution a secret to prevent me doing exactly what I’d done—escaping Vault. And she probably wouldn’t have cared about me escaping if Nightshade weren’t in the picture.
You really screwed up this time, I thought.
Of course, had Victoria been frank and honest about all of the issues—well, I liked to think that I would have been rational instead of rash. Then again, I may have attacked her. It was really a tossup.
“You don’t seem nearly as shocked as I thought you might,” Kenly said, pulling me from my musings.
“I knew about the executions; it’s why I ran. But I thought it was just me. I didn’t know the council is planning to kill all Level Four and Five prisoners. Sort of changes my perspective.”
“Are you saying you would’ve stayed and prayed the treaty passes?” Riley asked.
I looked over and found Emma and Kip had disappeared while I was caught up in my own head. I really was crappy at this whole protection thing. Emma and Kip were my responsibility. I’d persuaded Emma to persuade Kip to teleport me to London, and then, after Emma fell apart upon learning that a ruthless mercenary group was hunting her boyfriend, I got so enmeshed in my own issues that I forgot to watch out for the foreigners. It was Alex all over again.
“I gave Emma a sedative. She and Kip are resting,” Riley explained, correctly guessing where my thoughts had wandered. “They’re fine, Talia. Kip is tough. Emma is, too. She just needs time to digest it all.”
I sighed. “I hope you’re right, Riley. They need to be tough or they won’t survive. And no, smartass, I probably wouldn’t have stayed and prayed the treaty was going to pass.” I grinned impishly. “Wouldn’t have wanted to show the council that a little quality time in a cell to think about what I’d done worked. I would have still fled, if only to show them I couldn’t be beaten.”
“Scary part is, I don’t think you’re joking,” Riley replied.
Yeah, I wasn’t joking. And that was sort of scary. I was every bit as stubborn and impetuous as the council accused me of being.
“This is why you can’t contact Erik,” Kenly interjected. “I don’t believe he’d betray you.” Her fingers flew to her throat subconsciously. She forced a weak smile. “We both know he’d kill anyone trying to hurt you without a second thought, and he’d sleep just fine that night. But Talia, he might not know what UNITED is planning. If he believes that bringing you back to the islands is best for you, he will. Particularly if he knows about Nightshade. And I’m pretty sure that he does. Earlier I intercepted a communication Victoria sent to the rest of the council. In it, she says that several targets have been notified of the existence of Nightshade and that they will need extra security at Erik’s final rally. I think it’s safe to assume those targets are Penny and Erik.”
“I understand. And you have a point, but—”
“Hear her out,” James cut me off.
“I do think he deserves to know you’re safe,” Kenly continued. I felt how much the concession cost her. She was not Erik’s biggest fan. I couldn’t blame her much; my boyfriend had tried to strangle her. “Which,” Kenly began again, “is why I will go see him. He’s staying at The Palace. I can get in and out invisibly. Please, don’t argue.”
“I really appreciate your offer,” I said, offering my mentee a genuine smile of affection. “But I can just talk to him mentally. That is safe. I can explain the situation.”
It wasn’t ideal. I wanted to see Erik. We were so close—closer than we’d been in a month. The need to hold him in my arms was stronger than my desire to breathe. Still, I wasn’t stupid. And I had no desire to add yet another screw up to my ever growing list.
Victoria may have been able to get me an exemption from the blanket execution order prior to my escape, which was exactly what she’d been hoping for with the research project she gave me. I now understand what she’d meant about proving my worth as a team player and asset. But after this latest transgression, yeah, even Victoria Walburton didn’t have enough to pull to save my criminal butt.
Going to Erik would be walking into a trap. For someone who was so impulsive, I was extremely predictable when it came to him. The council was counting on me throwing caution out the window and running straight for my boyfriend. Agents were definitely waiting in the shadows for me to do just that.
“No, luv, you can’t,” Riley said sadly. “Emma is an exceptional Interceptor. And I do believe she has a pretty good handle on her abilities normally. But right now?” He shook his head. “That is one egg on the verge of cracking. You know stress makes a Chrome’s gifts hard to control. Until she’s had time to process all this nonsense with Nightshade, and h
er father’s involvement with them, I’d be shocked if you’ll even manage the bursts of conversation you were before with Kenly. If you want him to know you are safe and in London, one of us has to go to The Palace.”
I half-expected Riley to offer to go in Kenly’s place, but he didn’t. So I turned to James, hoping to find an ally. “You don’t really think Kenly is the best choice, do you?”
James glanced lovingly down at Kenly. “She wants to do this for you. No,” James corrected himself. “She needs to do this for you.”
A number of reassurances were on the tip of my tongue. Kenly didn’t owe me anything for saving her from the Poachers. Neither did she owe me for letting her go at Walburton Manor. But I felt Kenly’s guilt as acutely as if it were my own. She understood the risks of walking into UNITED’s trap, even invisibly. And she was prepared to suffer the consequences, because I’d done the same for her and spent a month in prison for it. So against my better judgment, I relented.
“Okay. Tell him I love him.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat and attempted a joke to lighten the mood. “And give him a kiss from me.”
Kenly laughed. “I don’t feel that guilty, Talia.”
The Privileged
Besançon, France
Two Days Before the Vote
“So Gracia’s gone?” Daphne asked in a small voice.
“I’m sure she’ll be back soon,” Cressa assured her.
“Actually, no, she wont,” Dina retorted, rolling her eyes at Cressa’s ignorance. “She became Natalia so that UNITED won’t realize that their most powerful player has come over to our side. For all intents and purposes, she is Natalia. So, Gracia won’t come back until the Privileged take control. Anyone with a brain knows that.”
“Madame Brink has arrived,” Suzu announced, just in time to save Cressa from saying something to Dina that she might later regret. “Space is tight in the commons, so I need the boys to relocate to the atrium.”
The segregation of the sexes was greeted with moans and groans, with a lot of the disappointment stemming from the group still surrounding Kev Leon. Even Cressa had to admit she was disappointed that he was leaving, though for reasons entirely different from the fangirls. Kev seemed to know an awful lot about the inner workings of the Institute, and Cressa wanted time to pump him for information.
I never would’ve guessed that it would come to this, she thought with a wry smile, marveling at how things had changed in less than twenty-four hours. That I’d want to talk to Kev Leon solely for his knowledge.
The boys obediently collected their lunch trash and filed out of the commons, Kev bringing up the rear. The vid star had upped his acting game, adding random twitches and moist eyes to his already stellar zombie performance.
Why? Cressa wanted to know. Why is he pretending to be so scared?
It didn’t make sense, unless…no, she didn’t even want to think it. But once the seed of doubt was planted, it began to grow. What if the playacting wasn’t for the eyes of the Institute, but was for the cadets, instead? To see how they’d react to another student exhibiting obvious signs of an adjustment disorder? Was Cressa supposed to report him?
But that didn’t make sense either, not really. In the tunnels, Kev had dropped the act. He’d saved Daphne’s life and helped both girls escape the guards. And whenever he thought no one was listening, Kev spoke normally to Cressa. He even fed her information about the Institute.
Maybe that’s part of the ruse, she thought, feeling extremely paranoid.
Cressa didn’t know whom to confide in, who was trustworthy. Quite possibly no one. She’d assumed the alarms were activated when Daphne touched the glass viewing window, but what if that was just happenstance? What if Ritchie was the mole? Maybe she ran back and reported the others to Leslie.
Cressa glanced at the magenta-haired girl, then let her gaze wander over the rest of the 2Ps. Who could she trust?
Nydia, Cressa thought, she’s safe.
Her roommate had lied for her. And even though Nydia wasn’t currently speaking to Cressa, she still hadn’t ratted her out. That, at least, counted for something.
Daphne, too, seemed to be on the level. She’d been with Cressa the entire time in the tunnels, never once leaving her sight until they parted ways in the bathroom. She’d been just as close to wearing a red jumpsuit as Cressa. There was no chance Daphne had double-crossed them.
“I think the three of us should stick together,” Ritchie suggested.
Cressa looked around the commons and realized all the girls were partnering up. Dina had migrated over to another group, and was exuberantly recounting her tale about Gracia, Dr. Masterson, and the Dame to them. That left Cressa with Ritchie and Daphne.
“Yeah, of course,” Cressa replied, plastering on a fake smile. “Is it cool if Nydia joins us, though? She looks like she needs a partner.”
“We won’t be able to talk about, you know, stuff with Nydia around,” Ritchie said, wrinkling her brow.
That’s the point, Cressa thought, then called out Nydia’s name.
Her roommate wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of working with Cressa, but clearly didn’t want to cause a scene. So Nydia agreed, albeit reluctantly.
Her roommate’s presence had the desired effect. The girls chatted very little, and even then only about the lesson. Until Cressa knew for sure she could trust the pink-haired girl, she wasn’t going to take any chances. If Ritchie was a spy for the Dame, Cressa wasn’t going to dig her own grave any deeper.
“Dinner tonight will be served in your individual rooms,” Suzu announced at the end of the afternoon session. She was standing in the archway, voice pitched so that both those in the commons and in the atrium were able to hear her. “Then, you may read, play strategy games, or do something similarly quiet until lights out. No one leaves his or her room, except to use the facilities. Since Cadet Beaumont is not available, Cadet Abbot and I will continue to cover her duties. Girls, please return to your rooms now. Boys, line up by the elevators. Cadet Ivan will escort you to your floor in groups.”
The girls began to clean up their area, replacing the practice objects in bins and carrying them to the front of the room.
“Nydia, will you take ours up?” Ritchie asked, handing the bin to her without waiting for a response. Once Nydia was out of earshot, Ritchie turned to Cressa and Daphne. “Let’s meet tonight, during shower time.”
“Why?” Cressa asked. “I mean, what’s left to discuss? We haven’t been hauled to interrogation yet, so it’s a pretty safe to assume the others haven’t ratted us out. Clandestine bathroom meetings will look suspicious.”
Ritchie sighed impatiently. “We don’t know that for sure, Cressa. We need to get Shyla to talk. We need to know what she told the Dame.”
“So, you want to meet and make a plan to pry the information out of Shyla?” Cressa huffed. “Last time we saw her, she wasn’t really in a talkative mood. Besides, she’s still in med bay, or wherever Leslie and Gregor took her. We should just play it cool, stay under the radar.”
“Actually,” Daphne spoke up. “She’s right there.”
Cressa spun on her heel toward the archway, where Daphne was pointing indiscreetly. Sure enough, Shyla Towers was shuffling into the commons. The twin did look calmer than she had earlier, though just as dazed as when she’d returned from interrogation. The sight filled Cressa with dread.
“Okay,” she relented. “But if we do this, we meet in my bathroom. Shyla and I share one, so it will be the easiest way to get her alone.”
“What about Nydia?” Daphne asked.
“She won’t be a problem,” Cressa declared. “In a way, Nydia has as much to lose as we do. She knew we were going down into the tunnels, and covered for me with Leslie.”
“It’s a plan, then,” Ritchie agreed. “Daphne and I will sneak over to your bathroom at shower time, and we can question Shyla.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “We should probably do something to our bathroom so that we hav
e an excuse to use a different one.”
Daphne smiled mischievously. “Leave it to me. Pranks are my specialty.
Erik
London, England
One Day Before the Vote
Hungover and exhausted, I wasn’t sure whether I’d dreamed, or hallucinated, Kenly in my hotel room when I woke later that day. Only the presence of a second glass on my nightstand made me think she’d been real. Or maybe I just wanted her to have been real, because she’d told me that Talia was safe. She’d explained a lot about a lot of things, all of which seemed fuzzy and hard to remember in the light of day. She’d mentioned Nightshade in her diatribe and something about a Teleporter named Kip or Vip or something. I really regretted not remembering that part of the conversation; at least if Talia knew about Nightshade and the fact that they were after her, then she’d be more careful.
Who was I kidding? If my girlfriend knew about the mercenaries, she was probably out hunting them at that very moment.
“Ready for your adoring public?” Miles was standing in my doorway, clean-shaven and fully dressed for the day.
“Please don’t yell at me,” I groaned, and covered my throbbing head with a pillow.
“Shit. Kid are you drunk?” Miles’s footsteps sounded like a stampede inside my head.
“Drunk was last night,” I mumbled into the pillow. “Today, I’m hungover. Just let me sleep for another hour or two.”
“No time.” Miles ripped the covers off of me, stealing the warm air along with the comforter. “You are scheduled for several interviews before the rally. The reporters are coming here. The first has already arrived. You need to shower and do something about this.”