“You won’t like it,” she said.
“We didn’t like it earlier in the Port, either,” Thayen replied. “Please… just tell us.”
Myst sighed. “They’re in the glass extension on the west side of the island.”
Brandon swore, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
I moved closer, watching his expression carefully. It made him take a step back, eyeing me nervously as though I might attack him. “What is it?” I asked, secretly enjoying the knowledge that I had some kind of effect on him, too, though I wasn’t sure what it was exactly.
“That’s where HQ is,” Brandon said. “They took your people back to HQ.”
I finally understood why this made him nervous. Why he’d felt the need to curse. Our friends had been taken under the watchful eye of the alt-Shade’s leadership. Going in to save them meant going deep into the belly of the beast. It made me wonder, considering Brandon’s earlier warnings—were we even cut out for this mission? Had we survived purely on the basis of luck so far, only making it through because of help from Myst and Brandon?
It didn’t matter, I realized. We’d come this far. We could go a little further.
Thayen
My heart was skipping beats as I stood next to Myst inside the main cave. Her close proximity always did that to me. We’d woken Viola and the others up, since the plan to rescue Isabelle, Voss, and Chantal required all our heads put together. The ground was covered in a thin layer of black dust from the cave walls and ceiling, and Myst used it to draw a simplified schematic of the alt-Shade’s western extension of glass houses. It stretched about five-hundred yards out onto the ocean in the real world, and, according to the Valkyrie, it was the same here.
“There are a total of 120 units on the extension,” Myst said, using the tip of her glorious sword to draw the last of the squares representing those living quarters. Back home, the extension served to enlarge our community. It had apartments, two-story houses, common areas, and office cubes, all made of black stainless steel and thick glass with artificial illumination that made every room look bathed in sunlight. “Most are used as laboratories, some as holding cells.”
Jericho had lit several fires along the cave walls, giving us enough light to clearly see the floor, but the slight shimmer of crystal components in the soil still caught my eye. I’d almost forgotten that the Black Heights were mountains rich in minerals and precious crystals—some were the size of particles and streaked across the walls and floors, while others were unpolished nuggets as big as my fist and were sprinkled through the black stone. The amber light from the fae dragon’s fire danced on our faces with playful shadows, and I took a few moments to analyze the faces around me, attempting to anchor myself into this crazy new reality of ours.
“Holding cells for what, exactly?” Jericho asked.
“I’m not sure,” Myst replied with a heavy sigh. She had a stern look on her face, and I could tell she was affected by this place, by what she’d seen here thus far. I wondered if it made her want to do more about it, but I resigned myself to being thankful she was willing to help with getting our friends back. Maybe easing her into an alliance was a better way to go, since she clearly didn’t respond to outright demands. The thought helped bring my heartbeat to a steadier rhythm, offering me something concrete to focus on. “I haven’t been here for long enough, and those damn things are safeguarded against my kind.”
“Of course,” Brandon said, his arms crossed as he stood next to Astra and Viola, wisps of darkness coming off him like wafting steam. By contrast, Myst’s skin was almost incandescent, glowing softly in the dim cave. “The holding cells are for newly formed clones. They come out of their shells all grown up and programmed, and they need to be held in specialized rooms while they adjust. They don’t get the privilege of childhood and growing up. They’re thrown right into this mess and expected to perform.”
“That’s just sick,” Richard muttered, choosing to sit cross-legged on the ground, sullen now that the last of the sedatives had begun to wear off. “Ugh, why do I feel like I’ve swallowed a bag of cotton balls?” he added, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t felt this awake and raw since I overdid it on the spiced rose water at Dad’s birthday.”
“The meds are wearing off. I would’ve expected your recovery to be faster since you’re a supernatural, but I assume that whatever cocktail they had you on was extra powerful,” I told him, relieved to have gotten him back alive and in one piece, but also a little disappointed—there was no way he could come with us on this next rescue mission. He had yet to regain his full strength. I thought of Mom and Dad for a brief moment—they probably would’ve advised the same.
“Keeping the clones in specialized rooms is necessary,” Brandon said, going back to the main thread of our conversation. “HQ needs functional, alert, and devoted clones. Breeding them directly into mature forms is the best way to do that, and the holding rooms also serve as education units. There are screens in there that teach the doppelgangers everything they need to know about their world and the original world of The Shade.”
“You’re well informed,” I said. The concept of HQ’s clone process reminded me of Ta’Zan, though only in the sense of artificial creation. The fake Shade wasn’t doling out Perfects or Faulties. They were copying our people and using the doubles against us.
“I kind of work here,” he shot back with a cool grin. “Would you like me to be as blind as Myst, at this point?”
“‘You kind of work here,’” Myst retorted, not hiding her disgust. “You’re consorting with an enemy. That should fill you with shame,
