“I have no idea—that’s the first thing we can do together, solve that puzzle. But we have to do it now, they’re all over the city and it’s going to be ruined—”
“Anja didn’t attack you,” said Marisa. “Somehow she knew not to. It’s part of the algorithm.”
“There is no algorithm.” Saif stood up. “You don’t understand—”
“I understand everything,” said Marisa, her voice quivering with despair. “You have a glitch in your ID. I saw it the very first night, and I didn’t think anything about it, but you’re . . .” Her voice was a heartbroken whisper. “You’re Lal.”
He turned and walked to the door, pausing before he opened it. “I have to stop this, with or without you.” His shoulders straightened and he pushed open the door and walked away.
TWENTY-ONE
The world had gone mad.
Marisa could hear screaming outside—some from pain, some from terror, all of it helpless and desperate and confused. How many people had been taken over? Saif—no, Lal—said—
Marisa’s breath caught again. She had trusted him.
He had only been using her.
If they wanted power, why kill Anja? It had never made sense. Now she knew it was just another way of using her. Running her through the streets hadn’t been a murder attempt, but a . . . distraction, maybe? What had he been doing while they chased her? Marisa rubbed her eyes and blinked into Sahara’s video archive. Camilla had stayed behind at the club, passively observing. She found the footage, opened it up, and watched.
Lal Muralithar, the man she had known as Saif, watched them go, gave a Bluescreen drive to La Princesa, and then plugged another one into the Synestheme. Dozens of people were connected throughout the club, and a few seconds later they all passed out, one at a time, slumping to the side in their chairs. He had risked Anja’s life, and Sahara’s and Marisa’s, not to keep a secret or save his own life, but to gain a few extra puppets. She closed her eyes, feeling too broken to move.
Bao stirred.
“Oh my gosh,” said Marisa. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, and crawled toward him through the rubble. “Bao, are you okay? I thought she broke your neck.”
Bao groaned. “I kind of wish she had.” He tried to sit up, winced, and lay back down. “My brain feels like a milk shake.”
“He betrayed us,” said Marisa, practically choking on the words.
“Saif?”
“Saif is Lal Muralithar,” said Marisa. “The mastermind behind the whole thing.”
“Good,” said Bao, wincing. “Now I don’t have to feel guilty about hating him.”
“He killed eLiza,” said Marisa, “but not until after he used her. He was using us the same way. I’m such an idiot, Bao, I’ve ruined everything.”
“Don’t,” said Bao, suddenly serious. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”
“The whole time it was him, and I didn’t—”
“There was no way you could have known,” said Bao. “This is not your fault.”
Marisa shook her head, wiping her eyes with the hem of her tattered San Juanito T-shirt. Bao looked at her a moment longer, then groaned and rolled over, surveying the room more closely.
“What about Sahara?” He crawled toward her on his hands and knees, and Marisa followed numbly. He checked her pulse, and sighed in relief as he probed the back of her head. “She’s got a big bump back here, but I think she’s okay.”
“We have to help Anja,” said Marisa. “But I don’t know how. Is she out there attacking more people? Is she dead?”
Bao shot her a worried glance. “What happened after I got knocked out?”
“I faked unconsciousness, and she left,” said Marisa, sniffing and wiping her eyes again. “The thing that took her over was an algorithm, and I don’t know what it’s trying to do. Neither did Lal. Attack us, or everyone? Did she leave to find more victims, or is she going somewhere? I don’t know what to—”
She froze, suddenly, hearing a noise by the door—not the screams that seemed to fill the air, but a scrape or a slide, closer than the voices. A footstep, maybe. It came again, and Bao’s head shot up. They glanced at each other, then back at the door.
A step, and a long, dragging limp. Someone was coming.
“Get behind me,” Marisa whispered.
Bao shook his head. “I’m not going to let you—”