The Hunt (The Cage 2)

Sounds of movement came from the main room—Cassian was back. She went to the doorway to watch him bend over to unlace his boots. He looked as flawless as always, robotic in his perfection, but he tugged too hard at the knots.

“Did you take care of the body?” she asked softly.

He looked up, eyes falling to his black shirt hanging on her frame. “Yes.” He handed her one of Makayla’s matching dresses, then glanced at the bedroom, where the blanket was twisted in knots. “You slept?”

“A little.” She ducked back into the bedroom to change into the dress.

“Good,” he called. “Your mind needs substantial rest after what you did to Roshian. Ideally, we would slow the training sessions, but time is of the essence. The Gauntlet module has already crossed into Kindred territory. It will be here in three days.”

She came back into the main room, smoothing out the dress. “Then we should start focusing on mind reading. That’s the only way I’ll be able to take over the testers’ minds. I’ve been practicing on my own and I can get glimmers of ideas, but nothing very substantial.” She tugged on the hem of her dress when he didn’t answer. “You haven’t changed your mind about helping us, have you?”

He finished untying the knots and kicked off his boots. “No. I haven’t.” He ran a weary hand over his face. “But I also promised to keep you safe. From the delegates, yes, but also from your own mind. It may be possible to cheat the Gauntlet, but one cannot cheat the limitations of one’s own body.” He went into the bedroom. She heard the sounds of drawers opening, clothes being swapped. She nudged his boot with her toe. Traces of dirt clung to the grooves in the bottom. She imagined Roshian’s body ripening in the sun.

Her stomach started to turn, as Cassian appeared in the doorway, as immaculate as always. With one look at her face, he said, “I made you a promise and this time I will die before I break it. Now, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“I only know the parts of your plan that I could read from Leon’s scattered thoughts. Let me read the rest from your own mind, so I know how to help you.”

She paused, still hesitant to trust him, but then closed her eyes. He rested his hands on her shoulders. She could hear him breathing steadily above the hum of the panel. And there was that familiar probing sensation in her mind that almost tickled. She could feel him scrolling through each part of the plan. Finding and freeing Anya. Learning how to control minds from her, so Cora could stand in front of the testers and make them move like puppets at her command. Leon and Bonebreak, even the safe room for Nok and Rolf.

He dropped his hands. Deep worry was etched into his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is it more training? Something else I need to learn?”

He shook his head. “Something I must learn. If I am to help you run the Gauntlet your own way, I must understand your methodology.”

She blinked in surprise. “You . . . want to learn to cheat?”

“It is the only way I can help your plan succeed.”

Cora glanced toward the bedroom door, hesitantly. “Hold on.” She went back to his bedroom and took out the deck of cards she’d found earlier in his drawer, shuffling it carefully as she returned. “My cellmate at Bay Pines taught me how, over the months we roomed together. I can explain the basics. The first thing is to forget what you’re trying to cheat at, and focus on who. I can’t make these cards be anything other than what they are. But I can manipulate you. I can read your face and your tells—assuming you’re uncloaked—and learn what is important to you, so that I can exploit that.”

He leaned closer. “And what is important to me?”

Her cheeks started to warm. She focused on shuffling the cards.

“Let’s say, for argument’s sake, your particular weakness was pretty girls. Then while I was shuffling the cards, I’d play with my hair, give you a smile, do anything to keep you from looking too closely at how I was dealing the cards. If I happened to slip an ace under the table so I could play it later, you wouldn’t notice because you’d be too distracted.”

He looked at the card in her hand. “The Kindred are not distracted by pretty girls.”

She lazily spun her finger around her hair. “Are you sure?” She reached out to hide the ace in her dress, but his hand snapped over hers. “That isn’t fair,” she breathed. “I told you what I was planning to do.”

“One does not normally announce when one intends to cheat?”

“Not as a rule, no.”

“So, to summarize. Step one: learn how to distract your opponent. Step two: disarm the opponent by manipulating said weaknesses.” He rubbed his thumb gently over hers, and leaned closer. “Something like this?”

She cleared her throat, which had suddenly gone tight. “Yeah, something like that.” She set the cards on the table. “Consider that your first lesson—and I need your help in return. We’ve run into a problem getting Anya out of the Temple. There’s no backstage area.”

He shook his head. “I am watched too closely by the Council to extract her myself.” He dug in his pocket until he found a temporary removal pass. “But if you cannot get her through the tunnels, perhaps you can devise a way to go in through the front.”

She pocketed the tag, though using it seemed like an impossibility with all the Kindred guests there. “Dane’s a problem too. He isn’t going to be happy I’m still alive.”

He considered this a moment, then went into the other room and came back with Dane’s yellow yo-yo, which she’d last seen abandoned on the savanna sands. “Step one,” he said. “Learn how to distract your opponent.”

“You’re saying I should cheat him?”

“I’m saying you need to get rid of him. And if I’m starting to understand the way humans think, the best way to do that is to set up a lie. A crime, perhaps. Something that will force the Kindred guards to take him away.”

“You mean frame him.” She wrapped her fingers around the yo-yo, stashing it in her dress next to the tag. “That might work.”

By the time they returned to the Hunt, a dozen Kindred sat in the lounge, awaiting their safari departures as though it was just a regular day, completely unaware that it was the morning after Cora had killed a man. Dane was onstage announcing the most recent kill. His eyes swung in her direction; they were hooded in the spotlight, but she could read the shock in his voice as he saw her.

“I buried the body beneath the acacia tree on the far side of the watering hole,” Cassian said quietly. “It will be absorbed by tomorrow. I’ll return then, and we can restart our sessions. I’ll teach you to read minds. You’ll teach me to cheat.” He nodded toward a far table, where Arrowal sat with Fian. “Be cautious. They are always watching.”

Her lips parted. With his metallic skin reflecting the Hunt’s low lights, she thought of Nok’s stories of the gods from the Ramakien with blue skin and the ability to control the winds. But Cassian was no god. She didn’t want him to be. “Thank you.”

He gave her a nod and left as the ceremony onstage ended.

There was a scramble as Jenny and Christopher dragged a stunned antelope backstage, but Dane remained by the microphone. He shaded his eyes against the bright lights.

“I see you there, songbird.” His voice was unreadable. “Come on. Time to sing.”

She stepped onstage, fighting the urge to claw his face. He smirked, but she detected an undercurrent of fear. He was guilty of conspiring to kill humans and animals—if she breathed a word about it to the Kindred officials, he wouldn’t be headed to Armstrong.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” he muttered, through a smile for the audience. “Alive, that is. Either you convinced Roshian to let you go or you offered him an even better quarry. I had an agreeable business arrangement with him. If you messed that up, I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Well, you can ask him about it next time you see him, though I have the feeling he won’t be coming around much anymore.”

Dane glare

d at her as he stepped down from the stage.

She squinted into the bright lights until she could make out Arrowal’s silhouette at the farthest table. She smiled grimly to herself as she sang through her set. She picked old songs her grandfather had liked about card sharps and con men. In the loose part of her dress, she could feel the yo-yo.

“You won’t know what’s coming,” Cora sang, and then the words died on her lips.

The yo-yo gave her an idea.

On her next break, she managed to slip onto the veranda and wave over Mali, who was working out of the garage.

“Listen, I only have a minute,” Cora said, fumbling in her dress for Dane’s yo-yo, and then scrawling a note on the back of a cocktail napkin. “Take this. Give it to Lucky next time you go backstage and tell him to do what’s on the napkin. Then get in touch with Leon. Tell him we need him to retrieve all the tails of the dead animals from Roshian’s room.”

Mali’s mouth wrinkled in confusion. “I do not understand.”

Cora smiled. “We’re taking down Dane. Tonight, before he can cause any more trouble.”

Mali glanced at the note on the napkin, reading it quickly, and then smiled flatly.

ALL AFTERNOON, CORA SANG as though the men she was going to cheat weren’t sitting right in front of her. Dane was the first step. Arrowal would get his in due time as well.

“You can run, baby,” she sang, glancing at Dane, “but you can’t hide. If you do me wrong, I’ll get you before long. . . .”

He gave her a smirk from the bar, and she smirked right back. A second later, the backstage door slammed open.

Pika’s cheeks were splotched with red. Her braid hung forgotten over one shoulder. Cora intentionally faltered in singing so that Dane would look around. The Council members turned as well, as a ripple of unease passed through the lounge.

Dane stomped around the bar. “I told you to stay backstage.”

“You creep!” Pika launched herself at him. “I saw them in your cell! The whole cookie tin was full of them!”

He recoiled as her thin arms flailed around him. “What are you talking about? Get back inside!” He cast nervous looks between her and the Council members, who were now all watching keenly, except for Fian, whose head swiveled toward Cora instead.