The Hunt (The Cage 2)

Sometimes just surviving isn’t enough, his granddad had said.

He put the gun away quickly and closed the panel door. At the time, he had thought of killing the animals as a cruel sort of kindness. One that he’d like to avoid at all costs, if possible. Hopefully he’d find another way to save them. Maybe if Cora did beat the Gauntlet, he’d be granted more authority, and could take the animals away from the menagerie and care for them properly. But in case the worst happened, he’d rather put every single animal out of its misery with his own hand than force them to continue this sick cycle of pain. As for the other kids, well, they could each make up their own minds. If it got bad enough, or if someone was wounded very badly . . . a quick and painless option could be good for them too.

He felt through the darkness for the door, and then was back in the cell block—moving faster now, glancing at the clock—and into his cell. He pulled the door all the way closed. The lightlock clicked on, casting a glow over the crumpled journal pages in his hand. He slid them into his journal and sank to the floor.

Someone was still snoring, but now Lucky knew it was probably just an act. All these nights while he had lain awake, the others probably had too.

He kept his eyes going between the hallway and the clock.

Cora didn’t have much time.

The fox nudged against the bars again. He petted it, a little hard, but the fox didn’t seem to mind, or to notice just how feverishly, in that moment, he hated himself for what he one day might have to do to it.

His mind raced, and he knew there’d be no sleep for him. He grabbed up the journal and the pencil nub, and started writing to get it out of his head.

The others know. All this time, they’ve been protecting us. . . .

His pencil paused. He caught a glimpse in the faint light of the markings on his hand; coding that designated him as a human only suitable for menagerie work.

Maybe Cora is right about what happens after the Gauntlet. It isn’t fair to ask people who have already been through so much to give up a chance of going home. And god, I think about what it would be like, if we did get back. I’d walk into a grocery store and fill up three shopping carts with bacon and Pop-Tarts and soda. I wouldn’t join the army. I’d take over the farm—just me and the horses and the stars. And Cora—if she’d come.

He flipped a page.

But then—and here’s what I can’t shake—why does going home feel so wrong? And it does. It makes me sick to my stomach. The animals, the humans: we’re all marked the same way, might as well be brothers in captivity. I can’t picture a world where we’re free and they’re not. If it comes to it, I’ll do what I have to. But I hope it doesn’t. I hope Cora beats the Gauntlet. I hope she decides to stay.

I hope she decides to build a life here, where we’re needed.

Where I’ll be.

34

Cora

“OKAY,” CORA SAID, AS soon as she and Leon reached the end of a service tunnel. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

She reached up and brushed a drop of his sweat from his forehead. “It’ll be okay. Put the shackles on me so I look like a prisoner.”

They listened for footsteps on the other side of the tunnel door, and when it was evident that the hall was empty, Leon looked out. “It’s clear.”

“Hold my arm,” Cora whispered. “Like you’re leading me.”

The foyer where menagerie doors split off was even creepier at night. The podiums to the menageries weren’t staffed, the hosts and hostesses off duty. Cora adjusted her hands in the shackles, trying to wear a mix of defiance and fear in case there were any Kindred guards. It wasn’t hard. All she had to do was think about the first time Cassian had taken her down this same dank hallway.

They’d only walked about twenty feet when Leon mumbled a low curse. “Trouble. Two o’clock.”

A shadow was approaching from the far end of the foyer. A female guard, patrolling the hall slowly in their direction.

“We’re almost there,” Cora whispered, nodding toward a doorway on the right. “That’s the entrance to the Temple. Just act natural.”

With the lights so low, Leon looked perfectly believable as a Kindred. She saw the guard’s head cock, curious, but then Leon swiveled Cora toward the Temple doorway.

“Open it quick,” he muttered. “She’s eyeing us.”

Cora focused on the blue sensor above the door. Her heart was racing, but this was second nature to her now. All she had to do was ignore the splinter of pain in the back of her head. As they stepped inside, she saw the female guard turn to inspect a different node but throw one last look over her shoulder.

The door closed, and Cora sighed in relief. “That was easier than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Leon said darkly. “Too easy. She’s probably calling for reinforcements.”

“Then let’s hurry.”

In the dark, the Temple’s ornate columns weren’t visible, and the cells loomed like a prison. “I don’t think there’s anyone observing behind the black panel,” she whispered. “But just in case, manhandle me a little.”

Leon grabbed her shoulder, saying some sharp words. In his disguise he looked terrifying, and it wasn’t hard to shrink back. He led her down the hall to the last cell, and there was Anya, sitting on the throne, staring at the fire. Cora wondered if the girl ever slept, or if the consciousness-reducing drugs rendered sleep obsolete.

“Stand, girl,” Leon commanded, trying to make his voice flat like the Kindred. “The medical officer has requested an inspection.”

Anya’s head slowly turned from the fire, but her eyes settled on Cora instead. In a drugged sort of way, she smiled. “Hi, little rabbit.”

Cora glanced at Leon, but he clearly hadn’t heard anything.

“Right,” Cora said. “Anya, if you can hear me, we’re friends of Mali’s. She’s sent us to get you out of here. We need for you to teach me to control minds.”

But Anya didn’t seem to hear. Instead, her cold gaze raked over Leon’s Kindred uniform and Kindred face.

“Are you guys talking psychic stuff?” Leon whispered. “Did you tell her I’m human?”

“I can hear her voice in my head,” Cora whispered back. “But she never makes much sense when she’s drugged.”

“Well, read her mind and see if she’s going to strangle us as soon as we get her out of there.”

Taking a deep breath, Cora faced Anya. Every time she’d tried to read minds—first with Lucky, then with Leon—it had come a little easier. Now she tried to reach out her thoughts like she did for levitation, but instead of dice, it was thoughts she was trying to influence.

Images flickered at the edge of her mind.

Blood.

Lots of it.

And Leon’s face with its Kindred disguise.

“Did it work?” Leon asked.

Cora blinked out of her concentration. “Um, a little. She’s not thinking polite thoughts about you, that’s for sure. I can’t tell if she knows you’re human.”

“No way in hell I’m reviving this little psycho,” Leon said. “If she can do even half the ninja shit Mali can, I’ll be dead in thirty seconds.”

“How are we supposed to get her out of here if we don’t revive her?”

“I’ll carry her. We have the removal pass, if that guard stops us. Come on, just open her cell with your mind or whatever. This place gives me the creeps.”

Cora concentrated on the lightlock set into the wall above Anya’s cell. It was slightly different from the ones in their cell block, but after a few minutes she figured it out and the door swung open with her thoughts.

Anya turned back to the fire, uninterested.

Leon started to take a step inside her cell but hesitated, like he was reaching for a live cobra that was going to strike if he moved too fast. He paced to the left, then to the right, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Just grab her,” Cora hissed. “She’s drugged. She can’t hur

t you.”

“Famous last words,” he muttered, then took a deep breath like he was diving underwater, and threw Anya over his shoulder. Her head pitched back, lolling; her eyes were glassy.

“We’ll sail to a different world,” she said into Cora’s head.

Leon fumbled to snap the shackles on Anya’s hands, as much for show as to protect themselves from her. “Let’s get out of here.”

They hurried back to the entrance. Cora wondered how sane Anya really was beneath the drugs. That tear in her own mind felt suddenly more painful. She pressed a hand to her nose, trying to stave off the blood, as she focused on the blue sensor to open the door.

It slid open—and the female guard was on the other side.

She blocked the exit, as though she had been waiting for them. Her face was a mask of passivity as she slowly cocked her head, eyes focused on Anya.

Leon had been right—it had been too easy before.

Luckily, he didn’t break character now. With his free hand, he held out the removal pass.

The guard took the pass, studying it closely, and then scanned it to log the visit. It seemed to satisfy her, and she stepped back to allow them to enter the hallway. Cora closed the door behind them, keeping her face calm, so the guard would think Leon had done it. As they walked away, she could feel success with every step. Ahead, just around that corner, they’d slip back into the walls and be safe.

Then the guard said something in Kindred.