“What aren’t you telling me, Inara?” I asked.
“It will be easier on everyone if you go willingly,” Inara said between sobs.
My heart sank like a heavy stone. “Go where?”
There came the sound of footsteps—many footsteps—on the roof. A line of guards emerged through the door behind Inara, guns cocked.
They were pointed at me.
“Inara,” I whispered, my heart pounding with fear. “What did you do?”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes on the ground. When she looked up again, her gaze shifted to something behind me.
I turned to look.
At first, I saw only more Keeper guards, their guns pointed at my head.
But then Trader stepped out from behind one of them. Of everyone I’d seen first in the App World and now here, Trader looked the most similar to his virtual self. Nearly identical, down to the inky black of his hair and eyes. My brain worked overtime trying to understand what was happening, making me dizzy. My heart was breaking inside my body. I grabbed one of the iron posts surrounding the viewing deck to steady myself.
“You told me to trust you,” I said to him.
His eyes were pained. “This isn’t what you think, Skylar.”
“You did this to Inara, didn’t you,” I said.
Trader grimaced. Then he walked by me to stand next to her. She looked into his eyes for a moment and something passed between them. “He got caught up in your wake, too, Skylar,” she said sadly. “Just like me.”
The guards closed in on me from all sides.
One of them clamped onto my shoulder. I struggled and fought, kicking and punching, but it was no use. There were too many of them. One of my kicks finally connected, but not with one of the guards—with Inara. She dropped to the ground with a surprised yelp, landing on a piece of broken glass. There came a loud sob, and when she pulled herself back to her feet, blood streamed from her arm, a long cut like a sliver of moon just below her elbow. Trader went to help her, to console her, but she moved out from under his reaching arm. Pushed through the Keeper guards so she could whisper one last thing before they took me away.
“You betrayed me and now I betrayed you,” she said, but she was weeping. “I thought it would be more satisfying to finally say that. But it’s not. It’s not at all,” she added, looking into my eyes.
Hers were full of pain.
27
The perfect prison
I WAS RUNNING.
Running through the unlit streets of Loner Town. Footsteps came after me fast. I turned back but couldn’t make out a thing, not even a shadow. Panic rose into my throat and I could feel my nails turn to claws. Suddenly I was flying across the sidewalk on all fours, my feline eyes cutting through the darkness. I spied an alcove and leapt into it, transforming back to my virtual self the second my heart began to slow.
I peered beyond the wall shielding me.
Trader was standing there. “Skylar, let me explain,” he said. “Remember that I’m out for revenge against my father. But sometimes revenge is complicated.” He took my hand.
I watched him do it, unable to move. My brain reached for a memory. But of what? I was forgetting something—something important. My limbs felt locked. Like someone else was controlling them. Suddenly Trader faded away, and Loner Town with him.
There came a blinding light.
I tried to scream—I thought I had—but my voice was so far away. My eyes wouldn’t open. Their lids felt heavy, weighted down, like someone was holding them shut. I raised my hands to my face but someone else—someone I couldn’t see—grabbed them and pulled them away. Just then, I managed to open one eye, only a crack. There was that glaring light again, but there was movement, too, a figure flashing across my vision, and the glimpse of a face—brief, but it was there. I worked at my lips, my mouth fuzzy and dry, trying to make them form the word I wanted to say. It came out a mumble, a single syllable muffled by the rubbery state of my face, but still, I spoke it.
“Mom?”
Someone was clawing at my face.
No, at my eyes.
One eyelid was pulled up.
I saw only bright colors.
My head was pounding.
I tried to open my mouth. It felt wired shut.
“She’ll keep for another while,” said a man’s voice.
“Are you sure?” someone asked, this time a woman.
Something pinged in my brain.
Familiarity.
Do I know you? went my mind.
But the words—like before, they wouldn’t come.
“Put her back under,” said the woman.
Who are you? I screamed inside my head.
There were hands again, pressing at my face.
A sharp pain in my arm.
Then . . .
Nothing.
“Rain, stop!”
I was laughing.
He was laughing too. His eyes were bright with happiness. “Do you really want me to?” he asked. His hands were on my shoulders.
“No,” I whispered. “No, I don’t.”
I looked around. We were surrounded by water. Bobbing up and down in the waves. Floating over the swells as they rolled into shore. I looked toward the beach and saw the compound peeking up from the dunes. Relief reached every part of me like a potent drug.
“I’m so glad I’m here,” I sighed. “But how did I get here?”
Confusion crossed Rain’s face. “You never left.”
“What do you mean? I was taken—” I started, then stopped.
Rain was shaking his head. “You’ve been with me all along.”
“That’s impossible.” The dread crept back. I fought it off, I’d fight it as long as I could. I studied Rain as though he might disappear at any moment. Hesitant, I reached out my hand to him. Pressed it flat against his chest.
I could feel his heartbeat.
It pounded.
Rain stared at my hand like he couldn’t believe it was there. When he looked up again, when he looked at me once more with those soulful eyes, for the first time I saw in them all that I’d ever hoped for: the want was there, just like before, but laced through it as delicate and intricate as a snowflake was love.
I could see it. It was as real as the Real World itself.
I pressed the rest of my body to him, I wrapped my arms around his back, his neck, my fingers winding through his hair, and felt his heartbeat speed even faster against my chest. Or maybe that was my heart going so quickly. We were so close it was difficult to tell.
Our mouths nearly touched.
I could feel his breath, warm and sweet.
“I’m going to kiss you, Skylar,” he said, and I could feel his lips moving. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”
“Me, too,” I whispered back.
I closed my eyes and I waited, ready to lose myself in this.
My first real kiss.
But something was wrong. There was a tightening against my wrists and my ankles, a taut pressure, my limbs pulled apart like wishbones.
“I think she’s waking up,” came that same male voice again.
“Well, put her out,” was the cold reply.
“No,” I said. “No, no, please!”
This was all a dream.
Only a dream.
A memory of Lacy flashed—of Lacy and Rain.
Together.
“No!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
But nobody heard me.
It was all inside my head.
When I came to I was lying in a bed, tucked under the covers.
I sat up. The thick blanket slid to my waist. I stared at my arms, at the bedspread, at everything around me. Then I took my forefinger and thumb and pinched the skin at my neck hard, digging in my nails as far as they would go.
Pain seared from the spot.
I drew my hand away. There was blood at the end of my fingertips. I placed them in my mouth, the taste metallic.
I was awake for real this time.
I slipped out of bed.
My clothes were gone, replaced by a short sleeveless slip. The air was cool and I shivered. My cheeks burned at the thought that someone had stripped me of my tunic while I was unconscious. Then I almost laughed at such modesty. For years this body hadn’t been mine, locked in one of those glowing glass boxes I’d seen at Briarwood, bathed and fed and exercised by Keepers I could not see, my body theirs to control. To display. Like some toy rag doll. What I hadn’t known had allowed me to live blissfully at ease as a virtual self, but my new consciousness about what this bliss entailed now robbed me of that fragile peace. How could I have so easily surrendered control of this body?
Never again. Not if I could help it.
As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked around. This room was the size of some of the ones I’d seen in the mansion. Maybe this was a mansion, one of the others I’d seen along the cliff. It was decorated like a palace. The bed had a great canopy that rose up over it, with ornately carved posts at each of the four corners. A crystal chandelier the size of a small car cascaded down from the center of the ceiling. It seemed dangerous, like it was placed there to crush whoever dared stand beneath it. Keeping to the edges of the room, I moved away from the bed. My feet sank deep into the plush carpet. I tried the door, but it was locked. There was a lamp next to a sitting area, the couch and two chairs upholstered in rich brocade, their legs sloping down to curved feet. I reached underneath the shade for the switch. Soon a soft glow fell across everything.
And I realized something.
Every single thing around me—from the wallpaper to the fabric on the furniture to the canopy over the bed and the sheets tucked across it—was decorated in shades of blue. In any other circumstance I would have loved it. It was as though someone had designed this place especially for me, as though on some level they hoped I’d be happy here. The perfect prison. Blue like the ocean and blue like the sky, blue like the sapphire color of your eyes, I sang to myself softly.
But why go to such trouble?
Then something else occurred to me.
Inara knew that rhyme and all about my favorite things, Inara, my best friend, who’d just turned me over to the authorities. If she was willing to do that, then why not something so small as giving over a favorite color? Or a bedtime song for a child from a mother?
You betrayed me and now I betrayed you, she’d said.
I took another turn around the room, examining everything. Sunlight peeked out from heavily curtained windows. It was daytime, but of which day? I had no idea how much time had passed while I was unconscious. I drew back the drapes. I’d been right about the mansion. There was no doubt that I was in one. The grounds stretched out far and wide until they reached the cliff with the ocean beyond, the view from here spectacular. But it was the trees that stole my breath, the ones dotting the lawn. The leaves. They were no longer the bright, heavy green of summer. Oranges and yellows and fiery reds swam across my vision, blurring together.
I swallowed.
Fall had begun.
I had been unconscious long enough for one season to give way to another.
I ran to the door, panicked, and tried the handle once more, pulling on it, turning it as hard as I could, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Somebody help me!” I screamed. “Is anybody out there?” I listened for a voice, for footsteps, for any sign of life, but there was nothing. I pounded against the door until my hand was raw with pain. “I need to get out of here,” I yelled, my voice hoarse.
Still there was no answer.
I pressed my forehead against the wood and waited for my heart and lungs to slow. When I pulled back I saw there was a note tacked up on the door at eye level. My eye level exactly.
Skylar, it began. Please dress for dinner. You’ll find appropriate attire in the closet next to the sitting area. If you’re hungry, there are snacks laid out for you in the next room.
I looked around. The door which I had thought went to the bathroom must lead somewhere else. Maybe from there I could get out. I went to it and threw it open. There was a tiny round table covered with a cloth the color of the sky. At its center was a silver candelabra, tall bright flames spindling up from the nine candles that I’d counted. Around it were plates laden with sweets and fruit.
Nothing tempted me. Not even a little.
There were two more doors, neither of which led out of here. One opened to an opulent bathroom with a tub nearly big enough for swimming set underneath a series of windows. There were mirrors everywhere, my face reflected back to me from every angle. I blinked, studying myself. My cheeks glowed with health and my hair was clean and styled. Someone had been caring for me. They’d even taken the time to wash and curl my hair and apply rose-red lipstick to my mouth before I’d woken up.
I shivered.
Then I went to the other door. It opened the closet mentioned in the note. My jaw dropped when I saw the lone item inside, the dress that awaited me for dinner.
It was like something from a fairy tale.
Something magical and impossible created from an App.
Like everything else, it was blue, sapphire blue, the same color as my eyes. It seemed spun out of air. The top was strapless and the bodice tiny, but the skirt belled and cascaded and bustled with layers of delicate silk.
Please dress for dinner, the note had said.
I slipped it off the hanger. There must be a hundred buttons. One by one, I undid them, until the dress gaped open like an invitation. Then I pulled the thin night slip over my head, casting it aside, and stepped into the dress’s center.
What else was I going to do?
I redid the buttons. It fit perfectly, as though I’d been measured for it. When I fastened the last one I went inside the mirrored bathroom, my steps heavy with the weight of so much fabric, and stared at my reflection. It was the kind of dress that girls my age dreamed about. I didn’t know gowns like this existed in the Real World.
Inara would have loved it.
Maybe she picked it out, went my mind.
I blinked at myself once more, then turned away.
That’s when I noticed the camera—no, the cameras, plural. Tiny round lenses in each corner of the ceiling, the kind I’d seen in the weapons room out at the compound. I swallowed. I was being watched. Every move I made, viewed by some unseen person. Every glance, every gesture. My cheeks burned as I thought of how I’d just undressed. I began to check the other rooms, the closet. They were everywhere. There was even one mounted into the head of the bed, pointed down toward my body while I slept.
Slowly, I made my way to the door to study the note.
Just then, I heard the bolt slide open in the lock.
I stepped back, looking around for anything that might serve as a weapon, but the door was opening before I could find one.
A woman stood at the entrance of the room, older than me, but not as old as my Keeper. Her brown hair was done up elaborately, her face aglow with makeup, and her ears and neck and wrists dripping with diamonds. She was dressed in a gown of light-green taffeta.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Why are you holding me here?”
But she didn’t say anything. She just looked at me like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Then, finally, she spoke.
“You really don’t recognize me?” the woman said.
That voice again. The familiar one.
Then I zeroed in on her eyes.
“Jude?”
28
Reunion
“HELLO, BEAN,” SHE said with a smile.
But the smile was sad.
“You really are lovely,” she sighed. “Just beautiful.”
My arms twitched at my sides. I wanted to throw them around Jude’s neck. But I held back. “I’ve missed you, Jude.”
She nodded, blinking, her eyes fluttering rapidly. Then she entered the room and shut the door behind her quietly. “Aren’t you a visio
n in that dress!” Her tone was of forced cheer. She adjusted her skirts and looked around a moment, at the bed, the couch, and the chairs, before her eyes landed on me again. “Do you like your room? I designed it just for you. The gown, too. All in your favorite color.”
“You mean you haven’t forgotten me?” My voice wavered.
Jude hesitated, like there was something stuck on her tongue. “Of course not, Bean. You’re my sister.”
I didn’t wait any longer. I couldn’t. I threw my arms around Jude’s neck and squeezed her tight. My sister, here, now, in the flesh. I could barely believe it. But then I remembered how I’d been unconscious for weeks, maybe months. That I seemed a prisoner in this palace.
Jude’s arms stayed at her sides.
I pulled back. “Are you here to help me? To get me out of here?” I asked. “Inara—where is she? Is she all right?”
Jude stepped away, green taffeta glistening like grass in the morning dew. Turned her head so she didn’t have to meet my eyes. “The situation is complicated.” She laughed, but it was a choked laugh, like something was stuck in her throat. “This is all my fault. Bean. I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” she added in a whisper.
I looked at her. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What are you sorry for?”
“For the way things have turned out,” she said. “For having to involve your friend.”
I took a step back, and nearly stumbled over the arm of a chair. “How have things turned out, exactly?”
My sister didn’t respond. She raised her left arm. A velvet pouch dangled from her wrist. She slid it off and drew open the string, peering inside, shaking it. Then she tipped it over and blue sapphire jewels spilled into her hand. She smiled at me, again with sadness. “The perfect finishing touch, don’t you think?” She held them out.
I didn’t take them.
What game was Jude playing at?
“You want me to do it?” she asked. My sister pulled up my wrist and lifted my hand so she could fasten the sapphire bracelet. The jewels were enormous, the size of gum balls. They made my wrist seem thin and delicate. Breakable. Jude stepped around the bell of the dress, careful not to pierce the edge of the fabric with her heels. When she reached my back, she lifted my hair and clasped the necklace in place. “For a long time I was angry after you plugged in,” she began. “I hated Mom for choosing you over me. Things were so hard for us. We were just lowly Keepers. Expendable. Replaceable. We had nothing.”
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