The Cage (The Cage 1)

“Leon is the best humanity has to offer?”

“Boy Three—Leon—is a paragon of physical stamina, in addition to being from an ethnic group with rare genetic traits.”

Cora closed her eyes. The foggy cloud of insomnia settled back over her, so frustratingly heavy. They had been selected and paired together by some alien supercomputer. She and Lucky, out of all the kids in the world, had the best genetic compatibility. It wasn’t a particularly romantic notion. Did she only like that dimple in his left cheek because of a computer? Had he made her blush because the Kindred had designed it that way?

“I don’t believe you. And I don’t understand why you’re covering for them. You’re supposed to take care of us. Why are you defending kidnappers?”

The room was too quiet. As it was, Cora’s own breath was deafening.

“I will try to bring you a dog,” the Caretaker said at last. “To help you sleep.”

Sadie. He had read her thoughts about Sadie. He might as well have stripped her naked and stared into her soul.

As if he sensed her anger, he folded his hands. “We are not the monsters you believe us to be, Cora.”

She pointed a shaking finger at the girl in the cage. “Then prove it. Let that girl out of that cage. It’s cruel to keep her cooped up like that. If you won’t take her back to Earth, then let her stay in the environment with us.”

The Caretaker’s mouth quirked in something like amusement. He exchanged a glance with the stringy-haired girl. “Have you seen enough?” he asked. “Are you ready to join them?”

Cora’s head jerked around. Had the girl understood English this whole time? The girl gripped the cage bars with an impossibly thin hand, glaring at Cora with brown eyes shockingly lighter in shade than her skin.

“I am ready,” the girl said.

To Cora’s shock, she pushed the cage gate open. It hadn’t been locked.

“She was not imprisoned,” the Caretaker said, reading Cora’s thoughts. “She requested the enclosure as protection from your group’s unpredictable emotional outbursts. She wanted to be certain she was safe among you.”

Cora gaped as the girl climbed out of the cage, all long legs and long hair and eyes that seemed to slice through skin. Serassi had said she was there for observation, but it wasn’t her the Kindred were observing. The girl had been observing them. The dark scrap of fabric she wore was actually a leotard with thin straps and silk panels, beautiful and delicate, like a ballerina might wear. She picked at it like she was used to wearing something looser, or nothing at all.

This had been the Kindred’s plan all along. Whoever the girl was, with her feral looks and her ballerina costume and her strange alliance with the Kindred, she had always been intended to join them.

This was the girl with the heart-shaped scar’s replacement.

This was the new Girl Three.

The Caretaker dragged Cora over to the girl and grabbed ahold of her as well. The pressure began to build. The ballerina girl yawned, like she’d dematerialized a thousand times. Cora gritted her teeth as the pressure grew, and then they were back in the cage, standing on the boardwalk. Waves crashed gently behind them. The scent of roasting meats laced the air. The Caretaker let go. The new Girl Three slunk off toward the diner, sniffing the air. Had Cora made a mistake by assuming the girl was a victim like the rest of them? Rolf had said the Kindred would need a mole. Someone on the inside . . .

Alone with the Caretaker, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Just stay away from us, Caretaker.” She took a shaky step toward the diner, but he grabbed her arm.

“I have a name too,” he said. “It isn’t Caretaker.”

She paused, squinting in the bright sunlight. Such a figure didn’t belong on a sunny boardwalk among toy shops and candy stores. He belonged in dreams. He belonged in nightmares.

Why is he telling me this? she wondered. And more importantly, why do I care?

But she did. Either from curiosity or some sick fascination, she cared.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I am called Cassian. And I am not your enemy.” He stepped back. “Now return to your cohort and try to sleep.”

He flickered, and was gone.

Cora took a few shaky steps toward the diner, hand clutched over the patch of arm where he had touched her. Ahead, the new Girl Three waited by the cherry tree.

Cora’s muscles ached, but sleep was the last thing that would come to her now.

20

Leon

LUNCH, ACCORDING TO THEIR captors, was tuna fish smothered in chocolate sauce. Each day the food got weirder—damned if he knew why—and the mismatch of flavors made his head ache, but all that poking and prodding had made him irritable, and when he got irritable, he got hungry.

Cora appeared in the doorway.

“Hey.” He kicked Lucky under the table. “Your girl’s alive.”

Lucky shoved his chair back in such a rush that chocolate sauce sloshed on the table. Leon cursed.

“I’m okay,” Cora said. “They kept me behind because I wasn’t sleeping well.” She jerked her chin toward the jukebox, which was playing that song that grated on Leon’s ears. “I found out they can read our minds. That’s how they know about my song. And that’s probably part of why we all have headaches. It’s going to make getting out of here more challenging—”

Leon froze as another figure filled the doorway. It was the caged girl, with stringy hair and long limbs.

“She’s . . . joining us,” Cora said.

Leon grunted in surprise. The girl didn’t bother to introduce herself—maybe she didn’t speak English, or speak anything at all. She sauntered over to a table, pulled Rolf’s military jacket off the back of his chair, sniffed it a few times, then slid into it. It swallowed her small frame, and with the ballerina getup, she looked as mismatched as the cage itself. She plunked into Rolf’s chair and started shoveling his food into her mouth.

Rolf started to object, but stopped. “Well. I wasn’t going to eat it anyway.” He fiddled with the leaves of a potted flower he’d brought in from outside.

“Hey. Girl.” Leon barked in annoyance. “You talk or what?”

Cora shot him a look. “Ease up. She’s probably been through a lot, Leon.”

But to Leon’s surprise, the girl lifted her head. Chocolate sauce covered her mouth. A ratty braid hung in her face, making her look wild. She regarded Leon coldly as she pinched her arms with hands that were deeply scarred.