my air supply. I pull off my facemask and try taking a breath. It’s no good. It’s like swallowing boiling water. I cough and splutter. Vanya lets go of my tubing. I hold the facemask back over my mouth and nose and suck in as much air as I can manage.
“I’m
“He isn’t lying. There were three bodies in the old railway station and blood everywhere,” Maks interjects. “Freshly dead, I’d say.”
Vanya rubs her head and paces. “Let me ask this: Is it possible Jazz was never with you? Is it possible you knew she was my daughter and decided it would be a clever way of forcing me to look for your friend?”
“Jazz was the one who knew the others were heading here and could lead us.”
“My daughter was leading you here,” Vanya says, her eyes losing some of their hardness. Maks approaches her and gently rubs her back. She steps away from him. “If what you’ve told me is true, Jazz is as good as dead and you’ve proven yourself to be useless.”
“He’d fit in okay,” Maks mutters.
“Would he?” Vanya says, heading for the exit and disappearing.
Maks shuts the door to the cell and attaches a heavy padlock.
“Why are you locking me in?” I ask again. And for how long? I need to tell the others the plan to get back to the pod and overthrow the Ministry.
Maks laughs. “Makes no difference whether you sleep in here or the main house: You’ve been a prisoner since you arrived.”
29
ALINA
It kicks off in the cabin after dinner. “You want to throttle me? Go ahead!” Dorian shouts. He rips off his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.
Song is standing between them yet again, so they don’t rip each other to pieces. “Calm down,” he says.
Maude and Bruce are lying on their bunks with their hands behind their heads. “Let’s have a good ol’ fashioned boxing match.
Bruce laughs but gets up and stands between Dorian and Silas, too. “Not sure what’s going on, boys, but you can’t be having it as hard as us,” he says. He shows us his blistered hands. “So what is the point of all this squabbling?” Bruce asks.
Silas goes to the window and opens the blinds. It’s already dark. “This place makes my skin crawl.”
“Silas has forgotten that real revolution means sacrifice,” Dorian says.
“And Dorian has forgotten that we don’t sacrifice our friends,” Silas snaps back. He tries pulling open the window, and when it doesn’t budge, he goes to the door and jimmies the handle. “Can you get me out?” he asks Song.
Song crouches down and examines the lock.
“Where you going?” I ask, joining Silas at the door.
“The zip came back, but Quinn wasn’t at dinner. Neither were Bea or Jazz,” he says. “I’m going to look for them. I want to know what’s going on.”
“You’re determined to get us in trouble,” Dorian says.
“Well, I’m sorry if I’m the only one who gives a crap about them,” Silas says.
“Hey!” I push him. If anyone’s worried about Quinn and Bea, it’s me; I know them better than anyone, and I’m the one who got them wrapped up in this mess to begin with. “I’m coming with you,” I say.
“Lemme help,” Maude says, springing up from the bed. She roots around in her hair and hands Song a pin. He straightens it out and sticks into the lock. We all watch and wait, and after a few minutes the lock clicks.
But Song isn’t the one who’s opened it. Wren, the girl we met at dinner with the icy eyes and headscarf, stands in the doorway. She’s carrying a heavy load of red fabric over her arm.
“I come bearing gifts,” she says, stepping into the cabin and throwing the folds of fabric onto my bunk. We gather around. She lifts up one and shakes open a long, red robe with snaps down the front. “For the ceremony. One size fits all.” She offers one to each of us. Maude and Bruce watch carefully. We haven’t told them about the Pairing Ceremony.
“Am I finally being made a dame? If so, I’d like to request a transfer to the royal chambers and a servant to do my gardening for me,” Maude says. “Also, I need a foot rub.”
Wren looks down at Maude’s knotted feet, frowns, and passes her a robe. “For you,” she says.
Maude beams and slips the robe straight over her head. Silas and I share a glance. If they’ve been invited, then it can’t just be about breeding. Silas’s face relaxes a fraction, and he holds his robe out at arm’s length to look at it.
“Did Maks and Quinn find anyone?” I ask Wren.
“Don’t think so,” she says. “All dead apparently. Murdered or something.”
“Even the girl? Even Bea?” Maude asks. Wren shrugs unsympathetically. I bite down hard and clench my jaw. Bea murdered? After everything she endured?
I don’t believe it.
“And where’s Quinn now?” Silas asks.
“He’s been taken to the lockup.”
“Lockup?” Silas pushes.
“Yep,” Wren says, and with no further explanation goes to the door. “I finally got a robe today, too. Can’t wait to meet my other.” She beams, showing her yellow teeth, pulls the door closed behind her, and locks it.
“Ugly-looking bitch,” Maude croaks, clutching for a joke. “
“We should talk about it, Maude,” I say.
“About what? I ain’t got nothing to say,” she whispers.
Bruce sits next to Maude and kisses the side of her head. “Maddie?”
“Jazz was a pain in the butt, but she was just a kid,” Dorian says, sounding more like his old self. He folds up his robe. “How many more of us need to die?” He’s speaking to himself, but we all nod.
“And now Quinn’s been imprisoned,” Silas says.
“Because Jazz couldn’t be found, and Vanya needs someone to blame,” I say.
“We have to speak to him. We have to find out what happened,” Silas says.
Song returns to the door. He tries again to pick the lock with the hairpin. When he can’t, he slumps on the floor. “It’s useless,” he says.
Maude is on her back. She points upward. “Go through the roof,” she says, and we all look up to see what she’s pointing at: the skylight.
30
BEA
Ronan and I are in a room on the second floor of an old hotel not far from the station. The floorboards creak, and the walls are ready to fall in on themselves. Ronan uses a finger and thumb to make an opening in the crooked blinds. “What can be taking him so long?” he wonders.
He sits next to me on the bed and sinks into it. We aren’t using a flashlight in case an opportunistic drifter sees the light, but even in the gloom, I can make out the wrinkles in Ronan’s brow.
It’s freezing again and I can’t stop trembling or thinking about Quinn. I curl up to keep warm. “How will they escape from Sequoia, if it’s so terrible there?” I say. “And what makes Quinn think they can just stroll back into the pod to help?”
