The Hunt (The Cage 2)

Dane jerked his head toward the savanna. “The light out there is better. Wouldn’t want him to accidentally snip off an ear, right?”

She ran her fingers over the engraved tag, tucking it into her dress, and slowly followed him down the steps. She’d never been on the lower level, where the soil was sandy and patchy with dry grass. This was where the real action was, not up in the lodge. The garage, with its artificial trucks that ran along a bluelight track, and the armory, row after row of rifles. Her heart skipped a beat, seeing those guns. She knew they wouldn’t work for her, and yet it seemed it would be so easy to grab one off that wall and blast her way to freedom.

Footsteps came from around the side of the garage. Roshian. Something about the way he carried himself made him loom despite his short stature. He let his eyes run down and up her body, settling on her hair. For a second, she wanted to go back on their deal. The idea of his hands on her, cutting away the hair she’d had her whole life, made her feel sick.

She glanced at the dashboard of the closest safari truck, where the rough carving had been made.

POD30.1

It gave her a small boost of hope. “Let’s get this over with,” Cora said.

“Yeah.” Dane’s voice had an odd tone. “Sure.”

She looked for scissors. Neither of them seemed to have a pair, and neither seemed in a hurry either, though Dane was giving off an anxious sort of energy. He pulled out his yo-yo, tossing it distractedly. A slow, uneasy feeling started to creep up her back. They had to do this fast so the others didn’t get suspicious of her absence. And did they really need to come all the way out here?

She glanced toward the veranda. Dane was standing between her and the stairs, legs spread a little wide. If she tried to bolt back to the lodge, he’d catch her in a second.

“What’s going on, Dane? I thought this was about my hair.”

“Oh, it is.”

Slowly, Roshian took out a long black case from the truck’s backseat. Cora took a shaky step backward. Roshian was bound by the same moral code as all the Kindred. As deranged and self-serving as that code was, none of them ever went outside of its boundaries. Kidnapping children was fine. Dragging them out to a savanna and shooting them wasn’t.

Roshian opened the case: a rifle, this one battered and dented. Not Kindred technology. Her heart started screaming for her to get out of there.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“I asked you once how fast you could run,” Roshian said. “Unfortunately, I never got an answer, but I have studied the way you move. You are flexible, and your reflexes are fast. I would guess that you can run quite fast when pressed.”

She leveled a wary look at him.

He couldn’t kill her.

He couldn’t. He was Kindred. Was this some sick joke he and Dane were playing? A game?

“I suggest you start running,” Roshian said.

24

Mali

THE LODGE WAS DARK during Free Time. Mali had never liked the inside of the menagerie—she preferred the wide-open spaces of the savanna, even if it was artificial, to the smoky air with the chained animals and clinking glasses. She couldn’t imagine that on Earth people really just sat around in dank rooms like this. If Lucky’s theory about POD30.1 was correct and they returned to Earth, would she have to spend so much time indoors too?

She tucked the backstage door key into the pocket of her safari uniform. She’d stolen it from Dane while he had slipped out earlier, claiming he had to help Cora clean up, which didn’t sound at all like Dane. So Mali had stayed behind a few extra minutes, pretending to repair the safari truck’s windshield, keeping her eyes open for something suspicious. That was when she had seen Roshian sneak around the side of the garage, and she’d rushed into the garage to hide. He was up to something, and all she could think about was what he had done to Scavenger.

She’d slipped out the back of the garage and climbed the stairs to the lodge, but there was no sign of Dane or Cora or Roshian. The lodge was empty. None of the fleet trucks had been taken. She pinched herself to keep worry at bay and started to return backstage. It was a big station, and Dane’s key could only get her so far. There was no way she could track down which level and sector they might have taken Cora to.

But a rustle from the bar made her freeze. Years of fighting made her body react by instinct and her muscles tensed in a familiar pattern. There. A shadow, moving behind the bar.

Glass shattered and the figure cursed. “Bloody hell.”

Mali’s muscles eased. “Leon.”

He stuck his head up, grabbing for a bar towel to clean up whatever bottle he’d broken. “Mali?” His hand immediately went to smooth back his hair. “Aren’t you supposed to be locked up?”

Mali walked to the bar in quick, silent steps. She pulled out a stool so she could lean in close. “What are you doing here.”

“What does it look like?” He finished dabbing off the spilled liquid that smelled so sweet it made her stomach turn. “I was doing a run for Bonebreak, and it took me right by here. The lights and music were off, so I didn’t think anyone would mind, eh? This bar has the best drinks of all of them.” He flashed his best smile. “Want one? You and me and a few drinks could be fun.”

She leveled him a cold stare. Such an idiot. Such an attractive, stupid idiot.

“You will ruin all our plans if someone catches you,” she said.

“Eh.” He dismissed her worries with a wave, then poured her a glass of orange liqueur anyway. “You don’t give me enough credit. I’ve been crawling around this station for weeks and I haven’t been caught. I even broke into Council chambers once, and tried on their ceremonial uniforms. A little stiff around the collar, but not as bad as you’d think.” He downed Mali’s glass of liqueur when it was clear she wasn’t going to touch it. “What are you doing sneaking around? Miss me?”

That smile again. It almost, almost, made her want to smile back. But she tossed a look at the backstage door, then leaned across the bar. “I believe a Kindred named Roshian has taken Cora and I fear for her.”

“Roshian?” Leon grunted up the name like fresh vomit. “Shit. We need another drink.”

Mali narrowed her eyes. “You are aware of him.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s one of Bonebreak’s best customers. I deliver contraband to his quarters every half rotation. All the other Kindred have quarters like army barracks, you know? Not a thing out of place. And Roshian’s is like that, at first glance, but he’s somehow got himself another room, a secret one, connected through a viewing screen he can open. It’s filled with a bunch of human artifacts. Dude seriously likes his comic books. And all that witchcraft stuff you were talking about, powdered animal parts and antlers and shit.”

Mali pinched herself, hoping the pain would help her focus, because what he was saying made no sense. “You must have misunderstood. The Kindred condemn such beliefs.”

“Well, damned if I know. Maybe he’s got Axion friends.”

“What is in the packages that you deliver.”

“I’ve never looked. I don’t want to know what messed-up contraband guys like him want.”

Mali had rarely felt this uneasy. First Cora disappearing, now these revelations about Roshian . . .

Leon narrowed his eyes. “Why do you have that look on your face?”

“What look.”

“That I’m-going-to-make-Leon-do-something look.”

She leaned on the counter. “You know how to get to Roshian’s quarters.”

He sighed. “Here it comes.”

“I want you to take me there. I want to see what is in the packages that you deliver. It might explain where he took Cora.”

He held up his hands. “Okay, but I’m going to expect a thank-you at the end of this. A foot rub to start. We’ll negotiate from there. And I’m taking this.” He swiped a fresh bottle.

Mali let her smile come this time, despite her worry.

Leon motioned her

to a panel behind the stage that was hidden by a curtain. He removed the balled-up bag of potato chips that held the panel open, and bowed.

“After you. At least I’ll get a good view out of this.” His gaze dropped to her butt.

She dropped to all fours and crawled in. He clambered in after her, making a ruckus as he crawled along. From his strained breath she could tell the tunnel’s thin air bothered him, but she didn’t mind the tight passages. For a second, Mali let herself think about what would happen if they could prove Earth was there, and if they could go back after the Gauntlet. She had asked Cora once how she could go about finding her family. Cora had said that she’d need a phone number or mailbox or email address, none of which Mali had, and none of which sounded like things a Saharan nomad camp would have either. But Leon might be able to help. Leon seemed to know how to get around official requirements. And, if she was being honest, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him back on Earth.

They crawled up two levels, then turned down a maze of ducts, avoiding a cleaner trap that she saw even before he did, and finally came to a drecktube marked with chalk. Leon jerked his thumb at the crudely drawn face with x’s over the eyes. “I do that to mark which quarters belong to assholes.”

He shouldered open the narrow door, holding a finger to his lips to be quiet. But no sound came from within except the constant whir of air through the wall seams. They climbed into a set of standard crew quarters that looked identical to all the quarters she had seen for low-level officers. A single bedroom. One chair, and a table that folded out from the wall. Blue bins holding blankets and a few rationed belongings. Leon went to the viewing screen and gave it a firm jab with his elbow. It clicked open.

Mali inspected the hinges closely. “These mechanisms are very crude. It is odd that he does not protect this hidden door with perceptive ability.”