by Kat Zhang
“Why is he covering this?” Marion said. Her question was a sharp reminder that we weren’t the only ones who’d watched the broadcast. I’d forgotten about the other people in the room. Dimly, I realized Devon and Lissa were both staring at us, the latter with a face full of open worry.
Vince frowned at Marion. “It’s hybrid affairs, isn’t it? And he’s director. What does it matter?”
“Yes, but he’s only director for Sector Two,” Marion protested. “I thought it was strange he was the one to announce the heightened security this summer, and not the president himself. But it made sense because it was connected directly to the cure. Now . . . this seems like it should have grown beyond his jurisdiction—they’re talking about security concerns.”
“Hybrids have always been considered a security concern.” Dr. Lyanne put the television on mute and turned to us. “What’s important now is that we need to leave the city.”
This wrenched me from my haze.
“What?” Marion said. For once, I agreed with her completely. “We can’t leave just because—”
“What about Kitty?” I demanded.
“I’d only need a few more days.” Marion was the picture of frustration. “I’ve a good idea where Tyler might be. I know the other addresses haven’t worked out, but I’m so much more sure about this new one. When have my contacts not pulled through in the end, given enough time?”
I realized I’d never heard Marion raise her voice before—or Dr. Lyanne, either. Both seemed close to it now. I’d been so focused on Ryan’s antagonism toward Marion, I’d overlooked the strength of Dr. Lyanne’s.
“You can have your time,” she said now. Her voice was modulated, her expression controlled. But I caught the tension in her jaw. “You can stay and keep looking for him. But Brindt is already on the edge of becoming another Anchoit, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenson already has his eyes on this city. I want us somewhere more remote.”
“How am I supposed to contact Tyler, if none of you are here?” Marion demanded. “The boy is deep in hiding. He won’t trust me—”
Even if she could find them on her own, I didn’t trust Marion enough to let her. She didn’t care about Kitty and Nina like we did.
“You’ll figure it out,” Dr. Lyanne said. The look she gave Marion was pointed, sharp. “You managed to get us to trust you when you showed up at our door.”
Addie’s exhaustion bled into me, made it hard to think clearly. This was all too much for her. And why wouldn’t it be? In her mind, we’d just been at Hahns. She’d gone from fighting to escape from an eighty-square-foot room to dealing with this. I struggled to keep myself calm, to shield my anxiety from her.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Dr. Lyanne said. “There’s a safe house in Diale. We can stay there until we figure out where to go next.”
And I was sick of losing people I loved. Of leaving people behind.
I looked around the room, seeking Devon’s eyes. I shoved away my fear for our family, to be dealt with later. I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.
THIRTY-THREE
My glance was enough for Devon to follow Addie and me into the hallway after the meeting dispersed. He became Ryan as they reached our side, the shift so smooth it happened in the middle of a breath.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “About your family.”
I could only nod. I didn’t want to be comforted. I was almost shaking with the need to act. But I knew, too, that I had to think things through. Risks were unavoidable, but I had to make sure they were worth it.
Ryan touched our arm. “What’re you planning, Eva? Because I know you’re planning something.”
I hesitated. “I know I can’t save everyone. I know sometimes I try to, and I just make things worse. But this is Kitty and Nina. If anything happens to them, and I know I could have done something about it—” I cut off, unable to even find the words. “I can’t let it go, Ryan. Especially since Dr. Lyanne wants us out of Brindt because of me.”
“That’s not true,” Ryan said. But it was, and we all knew it. We were all in danger, but Addie and I were the ones Jenson had rejuvenated his manhunt for.
“I’m going to get the address from Marion,” I said. “And tonight, I’m going to see if Ty’s really there. If he’d trust anyone, it would be me. As far as public perception goes, I’m about as prohybrid and antigovernment as a person can get.”
Ryan studied our face. The set of our mouth.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
“You don’t have to. It—”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go find Marion.”
I convinced Ryan that I wanted to talk with Marion alone. Honestly, I didn’t want him to be around while Marion and I hashed out the details. There was no telling what she might say to anger him, and I didn’t want his hostility to get in the way of our trip tonight.
So I slipped into Marion’s room later that evening, when I knew Dr. Lyanne was absent. Marion seemed to be in the middle of packing. The table was strewn with various pieces of camera equipment—a small tripod, two different lenses, what looked like a film canister.
Marion startled at the sight of us, but recovered quickly. “Does that woman really think Brindt is the only city in tumult right now?” Her face was flushed. “In Roarke yesterday, there was an honest-to-God riot.”
I stared at her, and she seemed gratified by my surprise. “It’s because of Henri’s footage. And yours, of course. People are reacting. I knew they would.”
“There’s been nothing on the news—”
“Of course not,” she said. “They don’t want to give people any ideas. They don’t want people to know how this country is starting to come apart at the seams.” She hesitated. The uneasiness crept back over her features. But she smoothed it away again, slapping on a look of sincerity. “Eva, you know why I had to release your Hahns footage early, don’t you?”
I felt Addie flinch.
“That’s not what I came to talk about,” I said quietly.
She spoke as if she hadn’t heard me. “I would have lost the timing. There was a presidential address—” She smiled slightly, just thinking about it. “The first broadcast came out right in the middle of it, and I couldn’t let too much time pass before the second. I knew you’d do anything to help the cause, so I didn’t think you would mind—”
“Mind that it could have killed us?” I snapped. I hadn’t come to talk with Marion about this, but she’d brought up the topic, and with it, all my suppressed fury. It flared, burning so hot Addie shrank away.
Marion’s eyes were on the camera equipment again. “I didn’t know for sure they’d figure out which institution it was. Or that it was you who was filming—there were hundreds of girls in that building.” She glanced at Addie and me. “There were people coming to rescue you. I’d already arranged things.”
Hahns was past. There was no point in being furious about it now, when I needed a clear mind.
“I want the address where you think Ty is staying,” I said quietly. “Tonight, after everyone else is asleep, Ryan and I are going to see if Ty is there.”
I caught the brightening of Marion’s eyes, the half twitch of her mouth. But
she quashed her smile, keeping her expression solemn. “I could come with you—”
I shook our head. Marion would just be another unknown variable. “Ryan and I are enough. And I don’t want any of the others to know about this.”
The look on our face was enough to keep her from arguing. She gave us the address.
“There’s one more thing,” I said, just before we left. I pinned Marion with our gaze. “Use these contacts you claim to have everywhere. Find out what’s going on at Hahns. How things are there. If anyone’s been hurt.”
Because of me. Because of aiding my escape.
But I didn’t say that.
Marion nodded.
Back in Anchoit, I’d dreamed about roaming the streets after dark, going to see the bustling downtown, where the lights of the bars and storefronts flashed all night long.
Addie and I had never liked crowds. The idea of dancing in the darkness, crushed by the weight and energy and unbound inhibition of hundreds of other people, sounded terrifying. And yet. There was something about the music. About the exuberance of it all.
Now we and Ryan were headed downtown in a city almost as large, but for reasons that had nothing to do with dancing or sightseeing. According to the map Marion had given us, we weren’t far now.
Marion’s address led us to the quieter part of the bar strip, where the crowds thinned to a few giggling packs of girls and some couples looking for a bit of privacy. “Merry Christmas!” someone shouted at us drunkenly, though it wouldn’t be Christmas for another few days.
The bouncer standing at the door gave me a skeptical look. Neither Ryan nor I had any kind of identification, let alone something saying we were twenty-one.
“I’m just looking for someone.” I tried to peek past him into the darkened bar. It was small, and not very full. A bartender cleared glasses at the counter, and a low, slow song played through the speakers. A waitress used the phone on the counter to gossip. A man sitting near the door met our eyes and frowned. I averted our eyes.
“Does he work here?” the bouncer said.
I hesitated. “I don’t know. His name’s Ty. Tyler?”
“There’s nobody here named Tyler.” The bouncer planted himself a little more firmly in the doorway. “And I’m sorry, but you can’t come in unless you have ID.”
The man who’d caught our attention before was still staring in our direction. He was stout, with a high color in his cheeks and thick, dark hair. There was the flicker of something like recognition in his eyes.
I smiled thinly at the bouncer and pulled Ryan away from the door.
“Marion didn’t tell me it was a bar,” I muttered once we were out of earshot. We’d gone around the corner, ending up in a narrow alleyway between the bar and the store next to it. “I figured it would be an apartment.”
I bit our lip. The music coming through the speakers paused, and in the change between songs, I heard it. Another song, but fainter. The strumming of a guitar, and a man’s quiet voice.
At first, I couldn’t tell where it came from. Then our eyes fell on a door in the side of the building, a little farther down the alley. In the darkness, we hadn’t noticed it before.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Ty?” I called his name as loudly as I dared. Ryan hurried after me as I approached the door. “Ty, please—I know your sister.”
The music stopped.
We waited, our heart pounding.
The door to the back room opened just wide enough for a young, dark-haired man to step outside. He held his guitar in one hand, half protectively, half like a potential weapon.
“You know Willa?” His voice was lower than I’d expected from someone so sparingly built.
I hesitated. “No, not Willa. You’re Tyler Holynd, right?” Judging from the way his eyes moved over us, he’d guessed who we were, too. “I’m Eva. Eva Tamsyn.”
I was ready to tell him everything—how Kitty and I had been roommates at Nornand. How we’d escaped together. How she’d run away and I needed to know she was safe.
Then, from inside the room, a girl’s voice cried, “Eva!” and all my words became irrelevant.
She shoved through the doorway, squeezing past her brother as she flew toward us. Her arms wrapped around me—she was stronger than I’d expected—or maybe I was just having trouble breathing anyway.
“You’re back!” She was babbling, her voice high and breathless, her face flushed, her long, dark hair flying everywhere. She let us go and threw her arms around Ryan, too. Finally, she turned to Ty. Gave him the biggest grin we’d ever seen on her face.
“I told you they’d find us,” she said.
The back room had been set up as a makeshift bedroom. There were two sleeping bags. A radio. A couple bottles of spray paint thrown in the corner. A foldout chair. And Ty’s guitar case, where he carefully laid the instrument before turning to face us again.
Kitty wanted me to tell her everything, and I would have, if Ty hadn’t been there. As it was, I tried to appease her without saying anything too incriminating. But soon, it became apparent that there wasn’t much Kitty hadn’t already told her brother.
“Who’re these people letting you stay here?” Ryan asked. “Who’re tagging the walls and putting up messages?”
Ty glanced at the pile of spray-paint bottles in the corner. They’d stained the floor, a constellation of drips. “I met them a few months ago, after I first got into town. I didn’t know where Kitty was. If she was all right. By then, it had been a year and a half since they took her.”
Kitty had stopped smiling. She wore the slightly blank look I’d come to fear and hate—the one that meant she was struggling not to think about anything. To push away the things that hurt her, and spare herself the pain.
Ty must have noticed it, too, because he glossed over the subject. “None of them are actually hybrid—at least, I don’t think so. They’re just angry, mostly. Angry at the government. At a lot of things. I’ve been thinking of leaving ever since Kitty arrived. I’m just not sure where we’d go.”
“You can’t stay here,” Ryan said. “Not with the police honing in. Come back with us, tonight.”
A knock came at the door. It was a blond man around Ty’s age, with a scruff around his narrow jaw. His eyes moved suspiciously to Addie and me. “I thought I heard a commotion back here. You guys all right?”
“It’s my friends,” Kitty said, suddenly grinning again. “I said they’d find us, Michael, didn’t I?”
Michael’s smile was more hesitant. “You did.”
“We just need a moment,” Ty told him. “Then I’ll explain to everyone.”
But Michael just nodded and closed the door again.
“We could go get Willa and the others,” Kitty said, sidling up to her brother. “I want to see them.” Her lips twitched. “Even Jem.”
The realization hit me hard. It wasn’t disappointment, exactly. Not sadness, either. Something not nameable—like the greatest sense of loss.
Addie’s voice was gentle.
Ty was family, in the end, and we were
not. We’d only known Kitty and Nina for less than a year, when it came down to it. Even if it felt like we’d known them for so much longer.
“We’ll see,” Ty said, laughing faintly.
“Are you coming with us?” Ryan started to say—
The door burst open. This time, it wasn’t Michael. It was the stout man who’d been eyeing Addie and me through the bar door. His face was flushed, his eyes bright.
“You all need to leave,” he hissed. “Right now.”
Ty jerked Kitty behind him. “Who are you?”
“Logan Newsome.” The man thrust his hand in our direction. At first, I thought he wanted us to shake it.
Then I realized he was holding something. A white envelope.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said to us. “I have something from your mother and father.”
Addie faltered.
I grabbed the envelope and pried it open.
The card inside was plain white, a golden rose embossed at the center. I felt the sudden surge of Addie’s emotions, the flurry of our heartbeat. Hope swelled so large in our throat we couldn’t breathe.
We recognized this card. Addie had bought the set months before we left home, giving them to Mom for her birthday. Mom had always said they were too pretty to use.
Tucked inside the card was a photograph. It had been cut to fit, the edges trimmed. But I recognized it all the same. It had sat on the mantelpiece for years. In the picture, a little girl with wispy blond hair squatted by a dark green tent. The sun was in her eyes. She squinted. She wasn’t looking at the camera. All her attention was for the single blade of grass tucked between her thumbs.
We’d been trying to whistle through it, the way our parents could.
On the back were two lines of script in our mother’s handwriting.
One was faded: Addie & Eva, 5 years old.
The other, tucked along the bottom edge of the photograph, was new, the ink bold and black.
Happy sweet sixteen, it said.
“The police are on their way here right now,” Logan said. Only words like those could have pulled my attention away from the card in our hands. He looked to Ty. “You have a mole in your group. And he’s just called for backup.”