Headmaster Russell’s face darkens until he looks the meanest I’ve ever seen him. Before he leaves, he turns to me and looks me right in the eye. “Lydia’s in danger. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Then he’s gone in a swirl of white cloak.
“You tricked me!” I shout at Seth, when Headmaster Russell is gone.
“I protected you.” Seth types at the air, shutting down the video.
“You betrayed me.”
“Blanca, I—”
“Don’t. Just don’t.” I turn to run—flee, is more like it—when Seth grabs my arm.
“I brought you a present.” He smiles hopefully. “It’s in the driveway.”
“I don’t want anything from a Virus!” For a half second, I think about kicking him again, right in the crotch. But this time I know how to hurt him harder.
“I’m never leaving my cloister again,” I say. “At least there I’ll be safe.”
“Blanca, wait!” Seth yells after me. “It’s a motorcycle!” he shouts. “Your very own ride!”
But I don’t look back. I only keep running.
A cloister is supposed to keep you secure. It’s supposed to keep predators out and the most private part of you safe, hidden away. But my problem is that a little piece of me is now tied up with Ms. Lydia, and another piece with Cal. I couldn’t stay in my cloister forever, not when they’re still not home. Not when Ms. Lydia is in danger.
Headmaster Russell wouldn’t have come to McNeal Manor unless it was dire. And now he can’t come back because Seth scared him away!
If I were in danger, Ms. Lydia would look for me in a heartbeat. I know she would. But at least she would know where to look.
I don’t know the first place to start
So that’s why I accepted Seth’s gift after all. That’s why I’m out here in the night, tearing up the pavement on this motorcycle. The streetlights are bright, and the traffic is gnarly. At every red light somebody tries to scan me to see if I’m a fake Vestal or not. When I turn out unreadable, they take my picture.
I’m not totally reckless. When I suited up in white leather, I made sure my platinum cuff was covered. I also studied the old-fashioned map of Silicon Valley I found in Cal’s office and left a note for Cal under his shaving kit. Going to see Ethan. Please keep this private.
There’s Ethan’s building now, towering above me. I’d recognize that emblem anywhere. His company is the king of chips, the biggest player in Silicon Valley. If anyone can help me find Ms. Lydia, it’s Ethan.
I’d ask Cal, but Cal’s not here. And Cal would want me to make sure Ms. Lydia’s safe.
Ethan’s the only one left I can trust. I know he’s corrupted, but I don’t think he’ll betray me.
I coast down the ramp to the security station, and then come to a safe stop. But I don’t take my helmet off. “I’m here to see Ethan the Vestal,” I say, my voice barely audible.
The security guard tries to scan me too. But I’m not any old girl in white.
“Let me see your cuff,” he growls.
I expose my platinum wrist, and he opens the gate.
It takes one lap around the underground parking lot before the white elevator door opens. When it does, I cut the engine and put up the kickstand.
“Fatima?” Ethan asks, as he steps out of the elevator.
I don’t give Ethan a chance to realize his mistake. I push him back inside the elevator and press the button for the door to close. By now Ethan can see my slim figure and realize there’s no way I’m Fatima.
“Wrong guess,” I say. I pull off my helmet, and my brown hair tumbles down.
Ethan’s jaw drops. “Blanca,” he finally says, punching the button for his own private suite. “It’s really you.” Then he pulls me toward him in a crushing hug, the type of embrace that pushes the borders of friendship to the very limit. I peel myself away. I don’t want Ethan to get the wrong idea about why I’ve come.
When the elevator doors open, Ethan leads me into his apartment. It’s pristine white, from the thick shag carpet to the modular furniture with chrome finishes. Ethan flicks his hand and the lights turn on, bathing the whole apartment in bright neon. Then he tries again, and the lights dim, except for one spot by a couch overlooking the thirtieth-story view.
“Nice place.” I follow Ethan over to the enormous couch. The furniture fits him, like his fake glasses, suspenders, and new ability to go online.
Now that I’m in his apartment, I know I made the right decision coming to Ethan for help. You can always trust a Vestal. Graduation was six months ago, but it’s like no time has passed between us at all. Ethan won’t betray me. He won’t try to trick me either.
“Why’d you think I was Fatima?” I ask.
“Because she’s missing. It’s all over the Net.”
“Fatima and Beau are missing.”
“What?” Ethan asks. “Beau’s missing too?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Headmaster Russell told me. Didn’t you see our conversation on Veritas Rex?”
“No. There’s nothing about you up there. But there’re lots of pictures of you on The Lighthouse. That’s how I knew somebody was coming.” Ethan clicks on his hand and a tiny video of me on my motorcycle shoots out of his palm screen. “Nobody can tell it was you, though. Even I wasn’t sure.”
On the Net again! This situation was becoming more dangerous by the minute.
“Ethan.” My tone is urgent. “We need a plan. How can we help Fatima? How can we find Beau?”
“I don’t know.” Ethan scratches his head. “I’ve been searching for Fatima all day, but there’s no trace of her online. Only some junk her fashion house puts up.” He flicks his fingers, and pictures of Fatima wearing diamonds and white lace pop up.
I glue my eyes to the screen. “I want to see all of it.”
“Really?” Ethan asks, surprised. He shakes his hand so that the screen appears larger.
I scoot closer. Whenever Cal or Seth showed me something online, I felt hesitant, afraid to really see. But with Ethan, it’s okay to be curious. He’ll let me explore as much as I want, and he won’t judge me either.
“Show me more,” I whisper.
“I’d love to show you more,” Ethan murmurs. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a long time.” He grabs a blanket from the corner of the couch and pulls it over our laps.
We’re snuggled there, the two of us, and I feel warm and safe. But I know what I’m about to do is dirty.
With his free hand, Ethan scrolls through the screen, and I finally see what The Lighthouse is all about.
Fatima’s disappearance is a top story, but there’s nothing about Fatima being pregnant. Most of the site is dedicated to Vestal history. Barbelo’s early writings are there, plus news feeds going back five decades. There are property records from Tabula Rasa and tax records from every Harvest. It’s like somebody has been researching us forever.
“They know about the Archives,” says Ethan, pulling up the video. “A former senator spilled everything. But nobody believes him! Other bloggers are saying The Lighthouse is making things up.”
“Why don’t they believe the senator?”
“Because politicians are coming forward and icing him out, saying he’s crazy.” Ethan answers. He points to the headlines, so I can see the names.
“But those are all people who use the Archives too!” I remember a lot of them. Senior year at Tabula Rasa is spent on Archive duty, at least part of the time.
“That’s not the worst part” Ethan crinkles his eyebrows and he pulls up another page. “Amy’s come forward with a tell-all.”
“Amy?” I don’t bother to pretend. Ethan knows about how Amy and I used to be best friends. So when I see her face on the screen, I don’t try to hide it. I let my anger show through.
“She’s told all about us, Blanca, including Headmaster Russell and his logical consequences.”
But I don’t need Ethan to explain. I can read
the story for myself right there. former vestal claims headmaster whipped students on a regular basis.
“Amy left when she was ten.” I curl my fist so tight the nails pierce skin. “How much can she know?”
“Enough that her parents have asked for police protection. They’re afraid she’ll go missing too.”
“I don’t understand. How long has this website been running?”
“It’s new.” Ethan scrolls through more pages. “It started about a month or two after our graduation. It’s giving Veritas Rex some competition.”
Seth. The name explodes in my brain, but I don’t dare to speak the word aloud. “Show me Veritas Rex.”
“That’s where things get interesting.” Ethan flicks his hand. Seth’s lion-headed cobra bursts onto the screen. But there’s nothing about my conversation with Headmaster Russell from today.
That Virus tricked me! He didn’t upload me to Veritas Rex after all. But what’s up there instead is worse.
It’s a grainy, black-and-white picture from an old-fashioned newspaper. There’s a little girl from almost fifty years ago. She’s got a heart-shaped face.
“It’s Ms. Lydia!” I reach out to touch the picture. My hand falls through the virtual screen, distorting the image.
“She was one of the original Vestals,” Ethan says. “She’s ancient.”
“That’s not possible—” I start to say, but then I stop myself. Sometimes I’ve thought Ms. Lydia was forty, or perhaps older than Cal. At other times she seemed much younger, like she was in her thirties. I really have no idea how old she is. But then I think harder. Her contract was for twenty-five years, and she was harvested at eighteen. That means Ms. Lydia is at least forty-three.
“Do you realize what this means?” Ethan takes off his fake eyeglasses.
“No,” I whisper, confused.
“It means Ms. Lydia knows Barbelo!”
“But how did Seth—I mean, how did Veritas Rex find that out?”
“Who’s Seth?” asks Ethan.
“Nobody important.” I examine my cuff. “Just my purchaser’s son.”
“Oh,” says Ethan. He puts his glasses back on.
That’s when I get it, clear as day. Headmaster Russell’s right, like always. Ms. Lydia is in danger. She’s been in danger all along. And it’s my fault!
Seth’s been pumping me for information about the Vestals so he could plaster it all over the Internet! Was Cal in on this too?
It wouldn’t be the first time I was bait.
“Do you understand now?” Ethan asks me. “We’ve been lied to our whole lives.”
“What do you mean?” I shiver underneath the blanket.
“The Internet isn’t evil. It doesn’t rip relationships apart.” Ethan pages back over to the picture of Amy. “Look. With one click, you could reconnect with your old friend.”
Amy’s blue eyes gaze at me with their familiar warmth. I blink and look away. “But the Internet is addicting. It tears users apart from the people they love.”
“It doesn’t have to.” Ethan pulls up one more shimmering image of Amy. This one shows her surrounded by her mom, dad, and a panting golden retriever. “Finger-chips make things better if we don’t become obsessed. That’s what they should have taught us in school.”
Chapter Sixteen
McNeal Manor has never looked more imposing. It’s backlit by moonlight and looms in front of me, like the whole mansion anticipates my arrival. But there’s only one person I want to see, and Ms. Lydia isn’t home.
Cal, however, is.
“Blanca,” he says to me as soon as I enter the foyer, like he’s been waiting for me too. “Where were you?”
“At Ethan’s.” I set down my helmet. “Didn’t you get my note?”
“A note?”
“Under your shaving kit?” I prompt.
“No. There wasn’t a note.” Then Cal gasps. “Unless … Let’s check again. I’m positive there was nothing.” He grabs my elbow and pulls me along.
I’ve never seen Cal like this before, so brusque and demanding. It’s making me fearful as I follow him up the stairs and through the halls in silence, trying to figure out what’s going on. Cal doesn’t say anything either, not until the metal door of his room shuts behind us.
It’s dark and quiet, like we’ve happened upon the sleeping stillness of the entire house. Cal turns to me in the half-light and says harshly, “Headmaster Russell is never to come here again. Do you understand me, Blanca? Don’t trust Headmaster Russell! He’s dangerous!”
“Yes, Cal.” I stop myself before “of course.” But how did Cal know about Headmaster Russell coming today? Seth didn’t post the video, after all.
Cal pulls me into the bathroom. He picks up his shaving kit and shakes it out in front of me. “Do you see?” he asks me. “Nothing!”
I don’t know what Cal wants. “I swear,” I say. “I left a note folded up in a square and put it right there.”
Cal looks at me hard. At first I think he’s examining me, trying to discern if I’m lying or not. But then I realize he needs me to listen.
“Lydia must have gotten to your note first.”
“I don’t understand.” I jerk back. “Ms. Lydia wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t read something that was private.”
“Not like some people,” says a voice from the doorway. Ms. Lydia steps forward, emerging from the shadows.
She’s wearing color.
And she’s holding a gun.
“You thought you could trick me, Calum? You thought you could share our private conversations with that Virus son of yours? Well, the joke’s on you.” Ms. Lydia aims her weapon straight at Cal, like she knows what she’s doing. Then she throws some rope to me. “Tie him up, Blanca.”
Is this a trick? Ms. Lydia knows I can’t do that to my purchaser! I take orders from Cal, not her.
“Well?” Ms. Lydia snaps her fingers. “What are you waiting for?”
But I don’t move.
Cal looks scared. His sun-worn face grows old in the bathroom light. But he also looks brave. “Blanca.” His voice is steady. “Remember your promise. Keep yourself safe.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. I’m so confused I don’t know what’s happening anymore. I take the rope to where Cal stands, and he puts his hands behind him. I tie up his wrists, like Headmaster Russell used to do to us during Discipline Hour.
Then, before I lash the final knot, I feel Cal grab my fingertips. He slips something into my hand that Ms. Lydia can’t see.
It’s his chip-watch.
I tuck it up my sleeve just in time.
Ms. Lydia’s coming toward him, about to knock Cal out cold with her platinum cuff. But right before she does, Cal manages to speak to me, one last time. His brown eyes have never appeared so kind. “Blanca, remember you are loved.”
“Good girl, Blanca,” Lydia says to me across Cal’s slumped-over body. “Now I need to tell you something.”
“What?” There’s nothing Lydia can say that will make me listen, not after what just happened. She doesn’t deserve my respect.
Lydia holsters her gun underneath her jacket. From an inside pocket, she pulls out a picture, folded in two. “This is what you need to know.” She hands the picture to me.
I don’t want to take the photograph, but I do. When I open it, I see it’s the same picture I saw on Veritas Rex, only this picture is in color.
And Lydia’s version is complete.
There before me is her childhood visage, her face a perfect little heart. Standing next to her is a young man, maybe in his thirties. He’s got long brown hair and glasses.
“That’s Barbelo,” Lydia says. “He wants to meet you.”
“Meet me?” I ask. But that’s not what I want to say. I want to ask her what the hell is going on. How could she do that to Cal?
“Now go to your cloister and grab what you need.” Lydia slips the photograph back in her poc
ket. “We leave for Nevada tonight. I’m taking you to Plemora.”
If Lydia really is taking me to Plemora, then that will make everything all right. If I get to meet Barbelo, then he’ll make everything okay.
Can I trust what Lydia is saying?
I could follow her directions right now and still be safe. I could run to my cloister and lock myself inside, like I told Seth I was going to do forever. I could stay in there and never come out.
That would mean leaving Cal unguarded with Lydia, and I won’t do that. I don’t know what Lydia would do to Cal alone here with her gun.
But if Lydia thinks I’m disobeying her, then we’re both done for.
I tilt my head and look up at her with soft eyes, the perfect look of submission Ms. Corina taught me years ago. “Can’t I take some of your clothes, Ms. Lydia? I don’t want to ever leave you again. Headmaster Russell made me think you were in danger!” I make my chin quiver.
“Oh, baby.” Lydia hugs me across Cal’s lopsided body. “Don’t listen to anything that buffoon has to say. Grab my suitcase and let’s go.”
That’s what we do. When we close the doors to Cal’s cloister, Lydia locks him in there for good. I have to follow her, even though I have no idea if Cal is still alive. So I try not to think about him. I try not to think about Cal kissing my cheek or teaching me about science. I try not to think about how worried he was the night I went out riding or how he flew across the ground, attacking those Viruses and yelling at them to leave his kids alone. I try not to think about what Cal said to me just now, maybe the last words I’ll ever hear him say. Blanca. Remember you are loved.
I wish there was a way to fix this. I wish somebody would tell me what to do. But the only person I can count on right now is me.
That’s how I know I’m screwed.
Keep yourself safe. Leave a note. Don’t trust Headmaster Russell. Those are the instructions Cal has ingrained in me. Those and the last direction he gave, Remember you are loved.
But I’m in Lydia’s car right now leaving Silicon Valley, and I have no idea if I’ll ever come back. All the road signs point to Nevada.
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