“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 hurt 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.
Cora froze. Leon did too.
Cora frantically tried to probe the guard’s mind. When she’d read Cassian’s thoughts before, it hadn’t mattered what language they’d been in. But all she came up with now was a cold, suspicious feeling. Panic started to seep into her, but Leon remained calm. He gave a noncommittal grunt like she had heard the Kindred do, and started walking again with authority.
One step.
One more.
The guard spoke again, sharper. Out of the corner of her eye, Cora glanced at Leon, wondering if they should run for it. The Kindred were so fast that it would take a miracle to get to the drecktube in time. There was the gun, but that was only a bluff.
They turned slowly. The guard was facing them, and she didn’t look pleased. She wore an intercom on her wrist—she could have twenty more guards there in seconds.
The guard took a step closer, head moving in measured jerks between Leon and Cora. There was nothing they could do; there were no words to answer her. Cora glanced at Leon; sweat was trickling down his face. At the same moment, the guard noticed.
Leon broke character. “We’re screwed!”
The guard reached for her wrist intercom. Time seemed to slow. Cora twisted the shackles, but it was useless. There was no stick to drive through her eye. She spun on Leon. “Run, now! Take Anya—I’ll hold her off.”
“Like hell,” he said.
Cora was about to throw herself at the guard when a blast of sound fractured through the hallway. She cried out, and Leon cringed. A gunshot? She twisted around to see Leon’s holster—empty. Where was the gun? Another shot rang out, and the Kindred doubled over. Cora looked around frantically. Her hands were empty. So were Leon’s. So were Anya’s; she was still slung over his shoulder, delirious.
Who was firing the gun?
And then she saw it. Hovering in the air four feet off the ground. Still aimed in the direction of the guard, who had collapsed.
Cora jerked around to face Anya, with her drug-laced smile.
“Anya’s doing this,” Cora choked. “She’s doing it with her mind!”
The floating gun started to aim at the crouching guard again, but Cora reached out and plucked it from the air. The smile on Anya’s face fell.
“That’s enough,” Cora said. “Leon, move!”
They raced down the hallway. The gun felt warm in Cora’s hand. She’d never imagined power like that. Levitation. Even making it shoot—that was so far beyond her own abilities that she’d thought it impossible.
They raced around the corner to the drecktube. Leon climbed in and dragged Anya in like she weighed nothing.
Cora stuffed the gun in the strap of her dress.
“Someone’s going to find that guard,” Leon said.
“Yeah,” Cora answered, still shaking, “But not until morning. We’ll be long gone by then.”
They started crawling. Leon seemed to know where he was going, which was good, because Cora couldn’t focus on anything. That tear in the back of her head was throbbing. Cassian had said Anya had fractured her mind beyond repair. But could a fractured mind do what she had just done?
Eventually, they saw the tube that led back to the Hunt; Leon had marked it with chalk. Cora tried not to think about the wounded guard.
They had Anya.
Cassian was on her side.
Once they had Nok and Rolf safe, she would be ready for the Gauntlet. She ignored that itch in her mind that said there was more to the Gauntlet than Cassian was letting on.