She shoved away from it. Her vision returned to normal, her skin calmed, but her heart still raced. Had he reached into her head? The sensation was different from the normal headaches that came whenever she looked at an angle that wasn’t right. This one felt almost . . . pleasurable.
“There you are.”
With a start, she turned. Lucky stood in bookstore’s doorway, hair still sleep tangled, but his eyes were bright. They darkened at her expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The word came out too fast. She stepped away from the black window and set the seashell on the glass countertop. “I was just getting this. For our calendar.” She smiled, hoping he couldn’t tell how fast her pulse was racing. She tapped on the glass counter top and cleared her throat. “I noticed that the copy of Robinson Crusoe is gone. The radio’s gone from the toy store too, and the teddy bear.”
“You think the Kindred took them?”
“They must have, but it doesn’t make sense.” The black window hummed, and Cora pinched her arm, hard, so they wouldn’t be able to read her mind. She pulled Lucky away from the window and lowered her voice. “If they knew we were planning to use the prizes as weapons, they would have taken the guitar strings and the boomerangs. Those are a lot more dangerous than a teddy bear.”
Lucky gave a shrug, looking tired. “There’s no understanding them.”
The black window hummed louder. She tried very, very hard to ignore it.
They started down the long path toward the desert. They’d spent nearly every day in the biomes together, winning tokens and mapping the area. They hadn’t found the fail-safe exit, or anything to indicate how large the enclosure was, but Cora hadn’t lost hope.
Her legs burned as they climbed the tallest dune. Aside from the vast empty valley she’d woken in, the desert was filled with Egyptian-like ruins. There weren’t any pyramids or temples, only dusty sandstone walls that stretched into infinity, winding around each other in impossible twists and turns that made her wonder if it was more Kindred technology messing with her perception. At the very top of the dune, a copse of palm trees surrounded a pool of crystal-clear water. A black window, set into a crumbling sandstone wall, overlooked it. Even though the wall was only two feet wide, she knew there was somehow a viewing chamber behind it.
She shivered and looked away.
“I think it’s a maze,” Lucky said.
“It can’t be a maze.” Cora knelt by the pool to splash water over her limbs. Her skin still throbbed from whatever had happened in the bookstore, when her vision and balance had faltered, but she ignored it. “A maze has openings and dead ends, and this has none.”
They started down the dune, sliding more than walking, heading for the closest of the sandstone walls. It ran forever in either direction; if they were going to go deeper into the ruins, they’d have to climb it. They followed it until they reached a place where the wall had crumbled enough that they could scramble to the top.
They balanced on the wall and dusted off their hands. Cora counted at least a dozen places where the circular stone walls were so collapsed they might be able to scale them. Others were deteriorating from the bottom, forming tunnels they might be able to crawl through.
A tingle spread through her nerves. “Wait—it is a maze. But not a regular one. See those places where the stone is crumbling at the top or at the bottom, making a tunnel? We have to climb up or under. It’s a vertical maze, not a horizontal one. The tokens must be in the center.”
Lucky raised an eyebrow. “Race you?”
Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion from lack of sleep, but his grin energized her. She took a deep breath. “You’re on.”
She took off, fighting the burn in her muscles, looking for a place to climb under the next wall, while Lucky tried his luck scaling the top. The sand warmed her bare feet; she found a tunnel and crawled through into a tighter ring, and followed it until she could scramble over. An oasis waited on the other side. She paused for a drink of water. When she looked up, her own face looked back at her from a black window. Her reflection showed deep circles and sunken eyes, but a grin.
The smile dropped from her face.
Smiling? She shouldn’t be enjoying herself. This was a prison. It might not have Bay Pines’s chain-link fences, but they were captive, just the same. The Kindred could be there now, studying them for some nefarious purpose. What if the Warden changed his mind and cut her up for the black market—blond hair going to the highest bidder, gall bladder up next?
Footsteps reverberated in the sand as Lucky rounded the corner, stopping when he saw her. He pulled off his leather jacket. He was breathing hard, but the dimple winked in his left cheek.
“Break time already?” He knelt and soaked his face, tossing his hair back.
Cora ignored the lines of water running down his neck. “Your dad learned hand-to-hand combat in the army, didn’t he? Did he ever teach you?”
Lucky’s grin faded. He wiped the water out of his eyes. “Yeah, the basics, and I took a few years of martial arts. Why?”
“Will you teach me?”
His face creased in confusion, until he followed her line of sight to the black window. “Look, I get why you’d want to know how to defend yourself, but the Kindred are too strong. The Caretaker threw Leon like he weighed nothing.”
“I need to know how,” she said. “I can’t stand feeling like this. Powerless.”
He squinted at the sun reluctantly, but then splashed another handful of water over his face. He stood and paced beside the oasis, drawing a wide circle with his toe.
“Come on, then.”
She jumped up, wiping the sand from her hands.
“First of all, it’s called combatives, not hand-to-hand. It can be any style of martial art or close-quarter combat system, but the one the army teaches is drill based. You practice certain techniques until they’re second nature. The most important thing is to recognize the situation you’re in and know what technique to use.”
“And if I just want to inflict serious pain on someone?”
He smiled. “No offense, but you’re not big enough to do damage to a flock of chickens. You need to focus on dodging blows and holds. Then we can talk about body-weight techniques where you might actually be able to hurt someone.”
Cora nodded. “Show me.”
They spent the next hour learning stances and kicks, and how to throw her weight to knock her opponent off balance, and which parts of the body were most vulnerable to attack—they could only assume the Kindred’s bodies were similar to theirs. Cora’s muscles blazed with exhaustion.
“This is called escaping the mount.” Lucky drew an X in the sand. “If you’re pinned in a choke hold or a joint lock.”
She came forward ready to fight, but he hooked a foot behind her ankle and off-balanced her back onto the sand. Surprise shoved the breath from her lungs. She started to push up, but Lucky straddled her chest.
“Not so fast. I’m going to show you a standard pin.”
He gripped her left wrist, and her pulse pounded with exhilaration from using her muscles this way for the first time—and from something else: she’d never been this close to a boy before. Certainly not like this, with his groin resting on her stomach. She’d gone to an all-girls school before Bay Pines, and afterward the only boys who approached her were more interested in being on the news for dating a convicted murderer, like she was some kind of rite of passage for jerks.
Her heart thudded so painfully, she was sure he could feel it through the layers of their clothes.
“Ready?” His voice caressed her ear.
The sand felt so warm against her back. She had never noticed before all the different colors in his eyes, flecks of copper and green and ocean blue.
“Your goal is to escape the mount,” he explained. “For someone your size, it’s less about strength and more about positioning. You want to do what’s called a bridge, thrust your hips up and to the side t
o throw me off balance, and then slip out. If you’re dying to punch someone, now would be the time, while he’s down. You’ll get the most force if you use an elbow to the temple.”
The idea of thrusting her hips against him made her face burn even harder. Her lips parted. She didn’t move.
“Any time now, Cora.”
His throat constricted as he swallowed. Maybe he felt it too, this attraction. This place did such strange things to all of them that she was so starved for human contact, her skin longing to brush against the fabric of his shirt.
Lucky leaned closer, so his face was an inch from hers.
“Cora?”
“Yeah.”
“Any time now.”
Her head nodded on its own. She only vaguely remembered she was supposed to be doing an escape of some sort. Right now there was only one thing on her mind, and judging from the way Lucky shifted on top of her, she didn’t think she was the only one.
She was sure that any moment, he’d kiss her.
“Hang on. There’s . . .” His breath was ragged. “There’s something I should tell you.”
“Mmhm,” she muttered, letting her jaw lightly brush his shoulder. He let out a tight breath and lowered his head, so the side of his face grazed hers.
“Really,” he breathed. “I have to tell you. Before . . . this happens.”
“Just stop talking,” she whispered. She tilted her head enough for her lips to graze his jaw, which tasted like the dryness of the sand. She was aware of every grain of sand, every pulse of sunlight, every inch that separated them.
Lucky tilted his head too, until their lips were a breath away from touching. This was going to be it. Her first kiss. With a Montana farm boy who smelled like motor grease and fresh-cut grass.
She parted her lips.
“You call that fighting?” a deep voice called.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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25
Cora
CORA SAT TOO FAST and bumped heads with Lucky. His hands clamped over her protectively.
Leon stood on the closest wall, smirking. “Don’t let me interrupt.”
Lucky pushed himself to his feet. His face was flushed. She knew she must look the same and glanced at her reflection in the black window. The window . . . she’d forgotten about it. Had they been about to make out in front of the Kindred? Just like the Kindred wanted?
Lucky picked up his leather jacket, shaking out the sand a little too hard. “You’re supposed to be mapping the alpine areas, Leon.”
Leon jumped down from the wall and sauntered toward them. “I was, and it’s bloody freezing. I thought, What better place to warm up than a desert? And being the thoughtful guy I am, I came to help you two with the maze.” He smirked. “But it seems escape isn’t the first thing on your mind.”
Cora looked away. “He was teaching me to spar.”
“That what they’re calling it these days? Hell, sweetheart, I can show you a thing or two about sparring, if you want.”
“Back off,” Lucky said.
Leon gave a deep laugh. “Ease up, brother. She’s not my type. She reminds me of my sister.” He ran a hand over his face. “I’ve been watching the last ten minutes, and you fight like you’ve a stick up your ass.”
“It’s standard military combatives.”
“Whatever it’s called, you wouldn’t last five minutes in a street fight.”
Lucky jerked his chin. “Is that right?”
“Hey.” Cora shoved herself between them. “Leon’s right. We were distracted from solving the maze, and right now we don’t need distractions.” She fingered the shell in her dress pocket. “There aren’t many days left before the deadline.”
“If we make it to the deadline without starving.” Leon turned to face her, giving her a pointed look. “Thought it was funny, eh? Where’d you put all the food, sweetheart?”
Cora frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“This morning. All the trays in the diner were empty. Except for the one you always take, last one on the left—yours had bloody extra. A prank’s a prank, sweetheart, but you don’t mess with a guy’s food.”
An uneasy feeling spread up her back. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You were the only one awake early. And the Kindred sure as hell didn’t do it—they’re trying to fatten us up.”
Something wasn’t right. She gave Lucky an uneasy glance.
He popped the knuckles on his left hand. “If she says she didn’t do it, then she didn’t.”
He started for town, but Leon stopped him with a massive hand to his chest. “Hang on, brother. You calling me a liar?”
Lucky rubbed his temples. “You want to fight over one meal?”
“A Maori defends his honor,” Leon growled. “And his right to breakfast.” He straightened, flexing his neck. “Or are you scared?”
Lucky gave a brittle laugh. “I’m not scared of you.”
“You should be, given what I’ve seen.”
They had forgotten she was even standing there. What would she do, if a fight really did break out? This wasn’t Bay Pines, where she could stand back and wait for a guard to come.
“Come on.” She tugged on Lucky’s arm, feeling suddenly exhausted again. “Just leave it.”
He didn’t even seem to hear her as he shook her off, shoving his finger in Leon’s face. “One sparring match. No punches to the face. No knees to the groin. Nothing dirty.”
“You’re on.”
Pain splintered through her head. “You’re seriously going to fight each other?”
“Hell yes,” Leon said. “Last one standing gets the other’s lunch and dinner.”
Lucky jerked his head in a nod.
Cora stomped off to the shade. Idiots. In the circle, Lucky assumed a rigid boxing stance. Leon smirked and lunged forward, throwing a punch toward his shoulder. Lucky dodged it easily and they danced around each other, more posturing than punches.
Cora rubbed her eyes. “This is stupid. We should keep working on the maze.”
“Worried I’ll ruin your boyfriend’s face? If I readjust his nose, give him a few black eyes, he might even look as pretty as that Caretaker. I bet you don’t mind looking at him, eh?”
Lucky lunged forward. He clipped Leon in the jaw, hard. Blood splattered the sand.
Leon jerked back, wiping his nose. “You said none to the face, bro.”
“Rules have changed.”
Leon growled. Cora shrieked as Leon threw a punch that cracked something. There was a flash of blood at Lucky’s nose, but he twisted away and threw another punch. They were better matched than Cora had thought. Leon was big, but he was slow. He yanked his button-down shirt over his head and kicked it away. The tattoos on his face continued down his chest, hugging his right shoulder and rib cage.
The sand grated under Cora’s feet. The Kindred wouldn’t let the boys hurt each other—would they? She glanced at the nearest black window, but it only reflected the fear in her face. Why was the Caretaker letting this happen?
Did they want this to happen, so they could study it?
Leon threw a punch that nearly knocked Lucky onto the sand. The bet was forgotten. They paced around each other like animals, and then Lucky lurched. He managed to get an arm around Leon’s neck, pinning him so that his face turned red, but Leon slammed him back to the ground. He grabbed a fistful of Lucky’s hair.
“Maybe those traders are on to something, eh? Maybe I’ll rip that ear off your head, make my own bloody tea—”
He grabbed the flap of Lucky’s ear. One jerk would be all it would take. Cora felt a wild desire flare out of nowhere for Lucky to fight back; to put Leon in his place, to tear flesh and spurt blood—but just as fast it was gone, and she was horrified by her thoughts. She was going as crazy as them. She lurched forward, but time seemed to have slowed. It was all happe
ning too fast, sliding and slipping out of control.
Lucky spit in his face. “You do, and I’ll skin that tattoo off your—”
“Stop it!” Cora slammed into Leon. The force of her weight jerked him back long enough for Lucky to scramble to his feet. He breathed hard. Blood dripped from his nose. Leon was on his feet in a second.
Danger crackled in the air.
“This isn’t a game!” Cora yelled. “Trying to rip ears off? Skinning each other? Have you both gone insane?” Her heart beat unsteadily, as out of control as the fight.
This is so, so wrong.
She turned away sharply and rested one hand on the ruined wall.
“Cora—” Lucky started, but she spun around.
“No. Don’t bother explaining. They’ve put us here like we’re animals, and you’re only proving them right. Who do you think messed with the food? Them. The Kindred. I don’t know why—probably to poke and prod us into fighting so they can study how we interact. You’re giving them one hell of a research thesis.” She left them alone in the desert.
“Wait!” Lucky called.
She didn’t look back. Her head throbbed.
Rip that ear off your head . . .
Skin that tattoo off your face . . .
There’d been tension between them from the start. They were all so on edge, so strung out by headaches and from distances that didn’t match up. This place was twisting them, and it was twisting her. For a second, she’d almost been rooting for Lucky to hurt Leon. . . .
She ran back to the house, jogging up the stairs. For weeks the five of them had collected tokens in a pillowcase in her room. They had one hundred seventy-six, last time she counted. Not enough for the croquet set, but there was a kite for one hundred fifty that she could disassemble into a stake. She’d be ready, if the Warden came, or if another fight broke out between the captives. It was time for some law. If the others couldn’t stay civil, she’d be the law herself.