The Hunt (The Cage 2)

His sum came out all wrong again, and he scribbled out the bad equation.

Think, he told himself. Concentrate.

He folded his legs underneath him on the couch like he used to do, slouching down into himself, letting one hand twist knots in his hair. His mom had called this his genius-at-work pose. It let him free his mind, concentrate on nothing else.

He scribbled out another sum. Wrong again.

His back ached, but he ignored it. He chewed on the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. Why couldn’t he solve it? In the cage, he’d been able to solve even the most challenging math problems in the toy shop. Once, after a full day of sledding, and then swimming in the stream, he’d been so flushed with confidence that he’d even solved the puzzle on the jukebox.

He sat up. That was it!

All those years at home, slouched down, he had thought the key to genius was to focus only on the mind and ignore the body. But maybe that weakened everything. Maybe the key was letting the mind and body work together.

He started pacing. Nok looked up, raising an eyebrow as he reached his hands over his head, shaking out his arms, jogging in place a little.

“Serassi isn’t watching,” Nok said. “You don’t have to make up weird behaviors right now.”

“Not weird behavior,” he said. “Weird thinking.”

He felt blood flow into his feet, which had gone to sleep tucked under him. He drew air deep into his lungs and let his shoulders fall back.

If the bottom integer . . .

If the negative sum on the right-hand side . . .

And then he laughed.

He fell to his knees and scrawled out a sum, and then blinked. His hands started shaking.

It matched.

“I . . . I did it,” he said, and then scrawled a few more numbers. “The conversion. I figured it out. We’ve been here, let me see, one hundred fifty days. Which means if we conceived on the day Serassi told us, that means Sparrow is due in, um”—he snatched up one of the parenting books to consult—“approximately one hundred thirty more days. That means we have enough time to figure something out, right?”

Nok chewed on her lip, snatching the parenting book from him. “But it isn’t just until the baby is born. It’s until the fetus can survive outside the womb. This book says that happens at twenty-three weeks. How many days is that? Shit, carry the two . . .”

The smile faded off Rolf’s face. “One hundred sixty-one days. Which means we only have eleven days until they could take Sparrow.”

“Eleven?” she said. “That’s no time at all!”

“You’ve got to come up with more lies. Make them think we’re invaluable enough to keep around indefinitely, even after the fetus is viable.”

Footsteps sounded from the shadows. Nok tensed and Rolf let her go quickly. Was Serassi already returning? One of her assistants? Nok dried her eyes on her apron, forcing a smile, picking up the dirty dishes from dinner in a rush.

“Maybe after we finish doing the dishes, we can work on the crib more,” Rolf said loudly, with forced cheeriness.

The footsteps came closer.

A figure loomed out of the shadows. As big as a Kindred, but not moving as stiffly. Nok turned back to the dishes, but Rolf squinted into the light.

The figure walked through the seating area but stopped halfway. He just stood there. Didn’t sit. Didn’t take notes.

Finally, a voice cut through the shadows.

“Bloody hell, what are you two idiots playing at?”

The figure came forward, and the lights of the house reflected on Leon’s smirking face.

Rolf started. “Leon?”

Leon jumped up on the porch, stepping right into the kitchen. “I’ve been all over the damned station looking for you two, and you’ve been playing house this whole time?” He shook his head, but then sniffed the air. “Is that meat loaf?”

Rolf gaped.

Leon being here could mean only one thing.

Cora must have sent him. Cora must have some new plan up her sleeve, and not a second too soon. This time, Rolf wanted in.

19

Cora

THE DRECKTUBE TUNNELS WERE even worse than Cora had imagined.

Frigid, thin air crept up the folds of her pajamas as she crawled behind Leon on the rough-hewn ground. She’d snuck out of her cell as soon as the others had fallen asleep, tiptoeing to the door and knocking softly, half surprised that Leon had actually kept his word when he swung the door open for her, and even more surprised when he said he’d found Nok and Rolf in some giant dollhouse. Now, as he led her toward the Temple menagerie, her knees were already red and raw; thank goodness she wore a long dress during the day, because she didn’t know how she’d explain scraped knees to Dane in the morning.

“Gotta watch out for the traps,” Leon explained over his shoulder. “Almost sizzled me a few times, but I’ve learned their tricks now. It’s the packages that are the real danger. If you hear one coming, get out of the way. Hurts like hell if you get hit with one. What do you call it, again? Making things float around?”

“Telekinesis.”

“And you can really do that, eh?”

Cora kept crawling. She had told him about unlocking the cell door, and about the dice, and now she felt self-conscious. “It’s weird, I know.”

He snorted. “No way. Wish I could throw things around with my mind. Ooh, undress girls just by thinking about it. And stealing would be so much easier. . . .”

“Monsters.”

She stopped crawling abruptly. It was the same odd whisper as before. Her forehead broke out in sweat despite the frigid tunnel.

“Please tell me you heard that voice,” she said.

“Voice?” Leon frowned. “You feeling okay?” He twisted around and reached out, swiping his finger under her nose. It came away with blood.

She pinched her nose distractedly. “It’s . . . nothing. Let’s just keep going.”

“That’s a lot of blood.”

“Keep going.” Her voice was sharp.

Leon muttered something under his breath as he paused at a few doorways, consulting his markings. “So let’s say you can break this Anya girl out of her cell with your telekinesis badassery. Where exactly is she going to camp out? I’m guessing there isn’t a nice secret room for her in the Hunt.”

“Um, no. But I did have one idea.”

At her hesitation, he turned around, eyes hooded. “No.”

“Leon, she has to stay with you. There’s nowhere else.”

“I’d rather cuddle up with Kindred guards.”

“It won’t be forever. Just until after I’ve run the Gauntlet. A week or two, tops.”

“Are you kidding? That is forever.”

Cora let out a sigh, rubbing her hands over her face. If only the air wasn’t so thin, maybe she could think better. Leon was the kind of guy who would take a bribe, but she didn’t have any money or food or anything. What could she offer him?

“Close your eyes,” she said. “Think about something you really want.”

“More psychic shit?”

“I need to practice mind reading.”

He grumbled a little, but closed his eyes. She concentrated on probing into his thoughts. She sensed something colorful and bright, flashing lights that almost reminded her of the arcade back in the cage. But there was something else there, deeper. A face.

Her eyes flew open. “I knew you liked Mali!”

He cursed. “I wasn’t thinking about her. I was thinking about Assassin’s Creed.”

“Yeah, but not deep down. I can tell what you really want, way more than video games.” A slow smile stretched across her face. “If you helped us out, I’m sure Mali would be very grateful.”