Serassi withdrew the needle probe from the dead girl’s abdomen, checking it to get a reading. “Yes.” Her voice was dismissive—she didn’t have time for Cassian’s foolishness. “It was risky of him. If the Council found out, he would be severely reprimanded.”
“Cora says she saw a girl there with blond hair and two missing fingers.” Mali stared at the dead girl’s blue lips. “It sounds like Anya.”
Serassi’s hand paused. The probe lingered an inch above the dead girl’s belly button.
“You tell me that Anya is dead,” Mali pressed.
“Then why are you asking me something you already know? Are you suggesting that I lied to you?”
There was a challenge in Serassi’s eyes. Something bitter cold, and Mali flinched again. On the surface, Serassi was one of the best Kindred at cloaking her emotions. But Mali had come to know her and could read some slips of emotion, just as she could with Cassian.
“You would be wise not to question us,” Serassi said. The door slid back open, and Tessela entered. “Now return to your enclosure, Girl Three.”
Girl Three. There had been a time when Serassi had called Mali by her name, just as Cassian did. But now the familiarity was gone. She had asked too many questions.
Tessela grabbed her, and they dematerialized back to the drugstore, facing the green grass and warm sun, though Mali hugged the jacket tighter. She stopped on the porch and looked out over their world as Tessela disappeared behind her.
The ocean lapped against the beach. The stream wound through the farm. In the distance, she could make out the highest dunes of the desert.
Cora had said that this enclosure was a lie. The artificiality of it had never bothered Mali before, because she knew there was no alternative. Earth was gone. She had never questioned that.
But now she wondered if Anya was still alive. And if the Kindred had lied to her about Anya, what else had they lied about? Could Earth still be there, and they’d only been told it wasn’t to keep them complacent?
Her eyes traced the far reaches of the desert. She had only the one memory of her life before she had been taken. A carpet laid out over sand, and camels in the distance, and her mother pouring hot tea from a beautiful glass pot. She had clung to that memory of her home because it was all there was.
But maybe there could be more.
Maybe her mother was still there, and the camels, and the tea, and all of Earth. Maybe she had been wrong to have trusted the Kindred. She had thought she was different; that Serassi and Cassian were her friends, and she was more than just a human subject. But maybe they had been manipulating her the entire time, just like they had the others.
Maybe Cora was right.
Maybe Earth was still there—and maybe they could go back.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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39
Cora
OVERHEAD, SPRAYS OF PALMS obscured the sky. Cora raced along the elevated walkway through the jungle. There were no mosquitoes, no thorns, no tropical snakes—nothing dangerous, just like all the habitats. A heavy rain began, soaking into her clothes.
Between the dancing leaves, she glimpsed the ruins of a towering stone palace covered in vines, and a few quaint huts, though they were likely just fabricated replicas that provided a framework for the black windows. She was drenched, so she jumped off the walkway and ran for it.
Mud gave way to sandy soil as she jogged toward the closest hut. Two of the huts were entirely artificial, but the other one had three walls and a thatched roof that at least provided a break from the rain. From the collection of belongings scattered about, she knew she’d found Leon’s home.
Sickly sweet peaches from the farm filled a crate. Leaves woven together by untrained hands made a rough mat, covered with a sheet stolen from the house. There were more sheets strung up around the sides of the huts. He had painted on them in mud, and they were actually quite good. She’d never have guessed that Leon was an artist, but his strokes were certain, his shading masterful and surprisingly emotional. The Kindred took us because we’re prime specimens. She shouldn’t have assumed the only desirable trait Leon had was his strength.
Someone grunted behind her.
She twisted around. Leon was crouched in a corner of the hut, waiting out the rain too. Even so close to the ground, he was a colossus. Shadows hid one half of his face, so only the tattooed side stared back at her.
She reached for a guitar string around her wrist. “Leon,” she stammered. “I came to find you.”
He stayed where he was. His eyes traced over her body, lingering on the wet hair plastered to her face, then drifted to the paintings. Cora swallowed. “They’re really good.”
What she didn’t say was that they were completely insane.