The room fell silent in the wake of Saga’s declaration. At first it seemed everyone was waiting for Icarus to argue, but then the mood shifted and it became clear we were all digesting a reality where he didn’t.
“I can do it,” Dare said finally.
Saga shook his head. “They wouldn’t put you in the work camps, dear. Vampires who act out against the Troika are killed on sight.” He sighed.
Zed raised his chin. “I’ll go alone, then.”
“Hey, what about me?” Rabbit said.
Everyone started talking at once, either arguing against Zed leading or Rabbit going—or both. It continued until a loud, sharp whistle cut through the noise. We all looked at Icarus. “Saga is right on all counts. I can’t go, Dare isn’t the right species, Rabbit is too young, and Zed can’t go in alone. That means we must figure out a way to get Six in.”
Dare walked over and circled me a couple of times. Her yellow eyes with their vertical pupils moved up and down as she surveyed me like she’d never met me before. Her hand shot out and lifted a section of my hair. “We could dye and cut it.”
Saga’s brows rose and his lips pursed. “Shaving it off would be better. They’d believe she was a servant or a rebel more that way.” He tapped his foot on the ground, ignoring my outraged look. “She’ll need a blood tattoo on her neck too.”
Cutting off my hair was one thing, but permanently marking my skin was a level of commitment I hadn’t been prepared for. When this idea had come up, I figured we’d just steal in, maybe kick a little ass, and get the kids out after setting off an explosion or something. “That’s crazy,” I said.
Saga ignored me. “We’ll mark her with a low-level blood type. It’ll help with the disguise. The minute most Troika guards see A neg or B pos, they lose interest.” Which was how most humans in the work camps ended up there. Having a less desirable blood type was considered both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because you would never end up the plaything of a vampire with expensive tastes. A curse because not having valuable blood meant you had no worth beyond being a worker drone—an expendable beast of burden.
“But—”
Dare spoke over me. “But what about this face?” She cupped my chin with her fingers. I jerked my face away from her. “We’ll have to do something to make her less delicate.”
“Hey!”
A dangerous smirk lifted the corners of her mouth, and when she spoke, the empty sockets where her fangs used to sit flashed ominously.
Saga stepped closer. “How do you change a face, though? We can’t rely on makeup once she’s inside.”
“Swelling.”
I froze and turned slowly to face Dare. Her yellow eyes glittered with excitement.
“What does that mean?”
“Do it,” Saga said. He turned away.
“Wait—” Before I could say the second word, knuckles slammed into my jaw and pain radiated through my face like fire. I stumbled back and fell to my ass.
Dare advanced. Behind her and through the haze of pain blurring my vision, I saw Saga turn away and Icarus smile. “Don’t worry,” she said in a taunting tone. “I won’t leave any permanent damage.”
The last thing I remember before the chaos of fists and the barrage of painful blows and the blood, was Dare whispering, “I’m gonna enjoy this,” so low the others couldn’t hear.
* * *
When I woke up, my face felt like a slab of tenderized meat. I tried to smack my heavy lips, but the movement made my jaw pulse like an exposed nerve. My eyes were heavy and swollen, but I managed to get them open enough to blink a few times. Once my vision cleared, I finally saw the ring of heads looking down at me. The light was behind them, so shadows obscured the expressions on their faces, but I imagined there was a mix of pity, impatience, and, in the case of Dare, amusement.
“How long was I out?” My voice cracked. I cleared it so I wouldn’t sound as weak as I felt.
“About two minutes.” This from Dare, who held out a hand to help me up. She didn’t sound as entertained as I’d expected her to, but when I rose and saw her face, it was hard to miss the sparkle in her yellow irises.
“And then I gave you a sedative to keep you under for the tattooing,” Saga added.
As if his words conjured it, pain shot through the back of my neck. I reached to touch it and my finger encountered a badge over what felt like a burn. “Ow.”
Saga looked me over through a monocle. His brows lowered into a frown and he smacked his lips in disgust, as if the fact I could feel pain made him doubt my ability to carry out the mission.
“Well?” I asked. “What’s the verdict?”