Bouncer guy waved us closer. Though my body bristled, I moved into the alcove. It wasn’t big. There was only a second stool in it, probably the perch for bouncer guy, and a small table with a radio that played soft classical music. It mingled with the beats coming through the heavy door leading into the bar.
Close up, I could see how young the girl was, maybe fifteen or sixteen, like me. Her eyes hovered above my head, though she had to crane her neck for that. Before I had time to react, bouncer guy took something from the table. I saw the blade gleam blue before he took my hand in a crushing grip and pierced the skin of my thumb. I released a harsh breath as the pain unfurled in my finger.
“What the hell are you doing?” Devon snarled, lurching forward, but I put a hand against his chest to stop him from doing anything rash.
“It’s okay,” I told him. Then I held out my thumb. “What now?” Bouncer guy used a small plastic square to catch the droplet of blood from my wound and held it out to Finja. For a long moment, she stared at it. It reminded me of a time when I’d seen a zookeeper feed a snake. He’d put the mouse into the terrarium right in front of the snake, but for a long time it had silently watched its prey before suddenly darting forward to deliver the deadly blow. Finja’s expression wasn’t unlike that of the snake. She lifted a spindly arm and took the plastic square with bony fingers. I noticed that her pinky stuck out at an unnatural angle, as if it had been broken and had grown back together without tending to it. My attention was torn from her fingers when she brought the square to her lips and her tongue darted out, instantaneously licking my blood off of it. I let out a sound of disgust and stumbled back, into Devon’s hard chest.
“Fuck,” he breathed out. I didn’t think it was because I’d hurt him. My breath was lodged in my lungs.
The girl closed her eyes and hummed. Then she made a strange sound deep in her throat. I wasn’t sure if it was a growl or a moan. Her eyes snapped open, still unfocused, and she released her breath very slowly. Then she nodded without looking at any of us.
“You’re clean,” bouncer guy announced. Devon held his hand out, and the whole procedure started anew. Only when the girl had nodded after tasting Devon’s blood did bouncer guy relax. Finished with her duties, Finja curled into herself on the stool again and quickly lost track of what was going on around her.
Bouncer guy gestured toward the black door. “You’re good to go.”
“Really?” I cringed at how surprised I sounded. “I mean, because we’re underage,” I said quickly.
The man gave me a look as if he thought I was stupid. “We don’t follow human laws here. We have our own, so you better listen: No using your Variation to kill. No using it to injure someone. No human police. No mention of Variant politics. You break ’em, I’ll break you. Understood?” I blinked at him. I wondered how long he’d worked on that little quote. He seemed unnecessarily proud of it. Devon and I exchanged a look and nodded. He’d only mentioned not killing or injuring someone with a Variation. What about using guns or knives?
“And the cold steel stays here,” he added, as though he had read my mind. Reluctantly I handed my gun to him. Devon hesitated so long that bouncer guy did something to the air that made my skin tingle and blood-licking girl jerk up with panicky eyes. I snatched the knife from Devon’s hand and handed it over before I pushed Devon toward the second door, desperate to get far away from the hallway and the strange vibes that now filled it.
I’d thought the hallway encounter was weird enough. But the moment we stumbled through the second door, I was sure I’d entered a new dimension.
CHAPTER 25
This had to be some kind of strange parallel universe. Bluish light seemed to float on the plumes of smoke in the air. I was glad that my eyes had had the chance to get used to the strange lighting back in the hallway or this would have given me vertigo. The inside of the bar was far more crowded than the parking lot had suggested. Maybe some of the customers had other, less conventional means of reaching the bar. The beats of the music I’d heard faintly through the door now throbbed like a pulse in my veins.
I began to scan the room full of patrons, but my eyes were drawn to the huge water tank in the middle of the bar. It was a gargantuan glass cylinder reaching from the floor to the ceiling.
“Wow,” Devon whispered beside me.
“Yeah,” I said, slowly walking around the water tank. Spots on the ground of the tank threw bluish light into the water, making it glow, and jets set in two narrow lines on both sides of the cylinder sent pink glitter whirling around. But that alone wouldn’t have warranted that slack-jawed look on Devon’s face. Two identical women, each dressed in a skimpy pink bikini, moved inside the aquarium. They had strawberry blond hair that floated in the water as if carried on a gentle breeze. Their makeup was heavy—pink lipstick, blue-rimmed eyes, and blue eye shadow, topped off with thick black lashes. They turned and twisted in the water in a rhythmic, silent dance. Their bodies squirmed and coiled, but while many customers had their eyes trained on them, the women only had eyes for each other, caught in their own sisterly trance. Apparently this was what qualified as Vegas-style entertainment in a Variant bar.
“I guess their Variation is that they can breathe underwater,” Devon said, his eyes still glued to the water-dance show. Once I stopped gawking at the aquarium and took in our surroundings, I noticed how many eyes had turned our way. Even in the presence of the water show, it seemed we were the main attraction. We couldn’t have acted more suspiciously if we’d tried. Everyone could see that we were new here. And from the look on many of the faces, new guests meant trouble. Groups of customers put their heads together conspiratorially. Few of them were paying attention to Devon, I realized with dread. Their curious gazes latched onto my eyes, then darted away quickly, only to be back again seconds later. They’d seen turquoise eyes before. They knew what it meant.
I grabbed Devon’s arm and pulled him along. “Come on. Let’s go to the bar.”
Sunken into the floor were spotlights in the same blue tone as the aquarium, and more blue torches lined the high-ceilinged walls. That explained why the smoke from the cigarettes and cigars was glowing like an apparition from Atlantis. Tall private booths lined the walls, separated from one another by black velvet screens. The customers sitting on the blue leather benches within the booths had a good view at the aquarium and the bar, but most of them were either deep in conversation, lost in their own worlds, or else staring at us. Scattered around the interior ring of the vast bar were small round tables with chairs around them. Most of them were empty. Apparently the booths were the way to go.
We arrived at the bar, which was made of deep mahogany wood and was the only area in the room that departed from the blue color scheme. The seats of the red leather bar stools were exactly the same color that the lamps on the bar’s shelves gave off.
“This is so crazy,” Devon whispered in my ear. I would have agreed with him if a very tall, very thin man hadn’t popped up beside me in that moment.
His fingers flitted over my arm like ghost touches. My body recoiled violently, and I balled my hands for a fight.
“Want some spittle?” he breathed. His hair was cut so short that his scalp shone through, and the red of the bar lights reflected in his damp eyes.
I was too stunned to speak. Either this was the worst pickup line of the century or this guy had lost his mind.
Devon moved closer to me until his warmth was all over my back. I snatched my arm away from the man. “No.”
He pulled out a vial containing a strange, milky liquid. “It makes you fly,” he crooned. From the way his eyelids twitched, I was convinced he’d already taken one too many flights.
“No, thanks.”
“Leave them alone, Spleen,” yelled the woman behind the bar. That was the perfect name for the guy. His eyes darted to the barkeeper before he slinked off toward a staircase shrouded in darknes
s to the left of the bar. It too was cast in a deep reddish glow.
“Thanks,” Devon said, relaxing his stance. The barkeeper was a tall woman clad in black shorts and a black tank top that showed off her tattooed arms, neck, and legs. I couldn’t spot an inch of her skin that wasn’t inked; only her face was free of tattoos. There was a long string of words written all over her body in tiny script. There must have been hundreds of words snaking over her limbs, but I couldn’t make out what they said.
She stood wiping a glass, still glaring at the spot where Spleen had stood a moment before. Eventually she turned to us. “First time, huh?” she asked, a piercing flashing in her mouth. “I’m Penny.”
“I’m Tessa, and this is Devon,” I said. I couldn’t help but wonder if her tattoos were just for show or if they were there to hide something. A clever disguise for scales, or a cover-up for a scar, like Alec’s dragon. I felt a twinge in my stomach at the thought of him. Stay focused, I reminded myself.
She noticed me staring and set the glass down. “Took years to get it done,” she said proudly. “And hurt like hell.”
“What does it say?” I asked with genuine curiosity.
“All kinds of things.” She shrugged. “Quotes that mean something to me.”
“Do they have something to do with your Variation?” Devon asked. Our minds seemed to work alike.
Something on her face shifted, like a shadow passing. “I’m not a Variant.”
“You aren’t?” I blurted and felt instantly bad. How could I be so insensitive?
But she just smiled, even though I wasn’t quite sure if she meant it. “My father owns the place. He’s a Variant. But I’m just a Normal. Yet another instance where genetics screwed me over.”
“So what exactly is this place?” I asked instead.
“A safe place for Variants to have a good time. A place where you aren’t in danger of getting caught in the crossfire of politics.”
“You mean between the FEA and Abel’s Army.”
At the mere mention of those names, her face lit up with alarm.
“Don’t,” she hissed, eyes darting around. “My father has banned those words. You better not speak them if you don’t want to find your butt on the street.”
“So people who come here aren’t part of either group?” Devon asked. He said it in a way that suggested there was no alternative.
She gave him a look like she thought he was crazy. “People around here are doing their damn best to stay under the radar. Because if they know about you, you either join them or else you disappear.”
“You’re talking about Abel’s Army,” I whispered. She frowned at me but didn’t correct me for saying the name again.
“I’m talking about them both. They’re just two sides of the same coin.”
“But the FEA doesn’t force people to join them, do they? They don’t coerce or kill people?”
“If they find you, you join. End of story. They don’t kill you, but they force you to follow their rules or else they throw you into their prison because you’re a security risk, and you rot there until you die. What’s the difference?” She put her palms against the counter, leaning closer to us, dark eyes sparkling. “But enough of that. Politics have no place here.”
I was about to protest, but she spit out her next thought, leaving me no chance to get a word in.
“The stuff Spleen tried to sell you isn’t the only way to have a good time.”
“What is it, anyway?” Devon asked.
“What it says. It’s the spit of a Variant, which contains endorphins and ephedrine and other things. People mix it into their drinks.”
This was too disgusting for words. My toes curled at the thought of purposely putting someone’s spit into my soda.
“And your father doesn’t mind that Spleen sells the stuff?”
“Of course not. He’s the Variant who produces the stuff,” she said with a twisted smile.
“Oh,” I said stupidly, glancing at Devon. A slow smile spread on his face.
“This is so weird,” he whispered.
“Anyway, if you’re not into the spittle, we also have the option to give you sweet dreams. We have a dream-catcher who’ll give you the dreams you want. For a few bucks, we’ll provide you with his services along with a few sleeping pills to extend the experience. Everything is possible.” The experience sounded almost too good to be true, but Penny wasn’t much of a salesman. If she really wanted to sell anything to us, she probably shouldn’t have sounded so disgusted and bored by it all.
I rested my elbows on the bar. “Why do people buy spittle and manipulated dreams?”
Penny shrugged. “The same reason Normals use typical drugs and alcohol. To forget, to remember, to be someone else, to be themselves. There are so many reasons,” she said. I followed her gaze. Many of the people in the booths looked as if life wasn’t exactly kind to them: They were dotted with scars, worry lines, crumpled clothing, jittery demeanors. I suppose that’s what you got for hiding from forces as strong as Abel’s Army and the FEA. Would Devon and I end up like them?
In the presence of so much weather and worry, I somehow suddenly knew why my mother was working here. “I’m looking for someone. She was once called Heather, but she might go by another name now. She has brown hair that’s sort of wavy, like mine, and brown eyes.”
Penny narrowed her eyes at me. “What do you want from her?” There was a hint of protectiveness in her tone. So my mother really worked here. My stomach knotted painfully, suddenly unsure if I could face her.
Devon took my hand. The warmth and strength of his grip helped me relax. “She’s my mother,” I said.
Penny froze in place. “Oh shit,” she whispered. Her eyes scanned my face, then she turned around and walked toward the red-lit staircase. “Heather!” she called. She cocked her head as if she was listening for a sound. But there was no reply. No one came down. She glanced at me. “Maybe she’s asleep.”
But I knew my mother. “She and your father are a couple,” I said, without a hint of uncertainty. My mother hadn’t been single for more than a few days for as long as I could remember. She needed a man at her side, especially one who bossed her around. For the first time, I wondered if it was because they reminded her of my father. I pushed past Penny and climbed the stairs two at a time. Her fingers grazed my arm, but I shook her off. “Don’t,” she whispered. Her expression brimmed with pity.
I barreled up the stairs. Penny and Devon remained close behind. I reached a corridor lit by more red torches. “Where?” I demanded. “Where is she?”
Penny hesitated.
“Where?” I screamed, and she actually took a step back. Devon touched my shoulder, but I jerked away.
Penny waved a hand at the end of the corridor. I strode toward the closed black door, my heart slamming against my rib cage, and put my hand on the handle. Every muscle in my body tensed. I swallowed. I was strong, I reminded myself. I could deal with whatever came my way.
Bracing myself, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
CHAPTER 26
A wave of patchouli hit me, and the smoke of recently burned incense swirled in the room. My nose tickled with the urge to sneeze. But then everything seemed to go still, even my heart and pulse.
My eyes glided over the unmoving form tangled amid red satin sheets on the bed. My mother.
Her brown hair hung limply around her slack face, which was tilted toward the door. An arm was lazily thrown over her head. Drool had dried in the corner of her mouth and on her chin. I could see her eyes move under her eyelids, flitting back and forth like she was watching a tennis match in her mind. I forced myself to cross the room toward the king-size bed. The red carpet was so plush, my feet seemed to sink deep into it. Parts of it were matted and stained. As I made my way closer to her, my shin collided with the bedframe.
 
; I stared straight ahead, at a scratch on the dark wooden headboard, and focused on my breathing. But focusing on anything but keeping it together was so hard. All the feelings seemed to bubble over. My mother’s lashes fluttered, and she shifted and stirred. Her arm slipped off the bed and brushed my leg. I bit down on my lip to stop myself from making a sound.
Just breathe, I reminded myself. Breathe. This doesn’t mean anything to you. She’s just a means to an end, a way to get to Holly. Nothing else.
But in her daze, she looked so much like the mother in the photo. The mother who’d once held me with a smile. I perched on the edge of the bed. I could feel Devon’s and Penny’s eyes on me, could practically feel their pity radiating off of them in waves.
I uncurled my fist, felt the blood return to my fingers. Slowly I reached out, hand shaking—body shaking—and brushed a strand of hair from her passive face. I trailed it over her eyes, which twitched once more, and cupped her cheek. “Mom?” I asked. I didn’t recognize the sounds that formed that word, didn’t recognize my own voice. I sounded like a small, scared child. For a moment, my mother leaned into my touch. She’s drugged, I reminded myself. She isn’t in her right mind; this means nothing. Then why did a feeling of happiness flood through me?
She moaned, her lips parting. She rolled over, revealing bruises on her arms and shoulders.
I jerked back, gasping. My throat, my rib cage, even my body felt too tight. I let out a cry—a cry so foreign that it made goose bumps flash across my skin. And suddenly my body seemed to explode. Rippling, shifting. I flew through the transformations. The bodies became a blur. My bones ached, my head throbbed, but I kept changing bodies. Faster and faster. Someone wrapped their arms around me, warm and reassuring, and the transformations slowed until they finally stopped and I was myself again. I breathed in Devon’s scent and closed my eyes.
But the moment was interrupted as the door was flung open. “What’s going on?” a deep voice demanded.