Be alert. Observe. Remember details. See if someone is matching pace with you. I run through everything I’ve learned about staying conscious. The rule is never to go “green”—never relax, always keep noticing—but also don’t go “red” and freak out.
We slow down, and the man behind us walks past us, his eyes on the water.
“He would have stopped, too, if he was trailing us, right?” I ask.
“No. If you stop and they walk past you but pretend to be looking at something else—that’s a tip-off. He’s too aware. Memorize his face, something about his essence that’s unchangeable. He may be nobody, but better safe than sorry.”
I got a better look at him as he walked past. Dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses, small dark mole on his upper left cheekbone, soft jaw, left ear protrudes slightly more than the right. I commit the checklist to memory, discarding the glasses, mole, and hair as details that could easily change.
“This is it,” Garrett says, nudging me into a tiny coffee shop. We head to a table at the back of the space, where a dark-skinned girl sits, her long, purple fingernails curled around a dainty cup. She wears a tight, shimmery, purple dress that shows everything, and her eyes are surrounded by a rainbow of color with chalky smudges running down her cheeks. She’s clearly not afraid of being noticed.
She’s dazzling. I like her immediately.
“So fabulous to see you,” she says, standing and wrapping Garrett in a big hug.
“You look amazing,” he says into her hair. “It’s been too long.”
“Way too long,” she says.
Separating, they take their seats across the table from each other.
“Tea? Coffee?” she asks.
“We’ll have what you’re having,” Garrett replies. I sink down next to him, our backs to the door. Fortunately, there’s a mirror behind Faye, so I can still see everyone who enters the shop. And the front door is the only way out.
Faye enters our order into the screen on the table, and I lower my mask so I can drink.
“This is my ‘sister,’ Betsy,” he introduces me.
“Very nice,” she says, giving me a once-over, offering me her tapered fingers. “He made any moves on you yet?”
My jaw drops, and I have no words.
Garrett busts out laughing.
“Don’t worry, lovie. He will.” She winks.
“I hope not,” I reply, finding my tongue.
“That’s good. It will save you a lifetime of heartache. The truth is, despite that overwhelming charisma, he’s all business. Born to dash hopes. Nobody has a chance. Believe me, I tried.” She laughs.
“Do you remember Chloe?” I ask.
Faye laughs harder. “I do.”
“How have you been?” Garrett asks, silencing her. “What’s it like out there?”
“A dream come true. It’s everything we hoped.” To my surprise, she grows serious. “But we don’t have much time, so let’s get to why you’re here. Nicki.”
A robot delivers our drinks, and I sip the sweet, creamy green concoction, enjoying the warmth it sends through me. I have no idea what it is, but it’s worlds beyond any drink I’ve had at Keystone—probably infused using some forbidden technology. Maybe there are some things I miss about Influencer life…
“Yes,” Garrett says. “From what we can tell from her Network, she’s into music, dance, she goes to a lot of charity benefits…”
“But she’s only showing us what she wants us to see,” I say.
Faye nods. “I can give you a little insight, but she’s not an easy nut to crack. She’s good at keeping her mask in place. It’ll take time. I’ve been hanging in her circle for six months, and she still doesn’t trust me. She likes me, but she doesn’t trust me.”
“How are we going to get close to her?” I ask. “We don’t have six months or even six weeks!”
“You were given this assignment for a reason—your talents match the challenge,” she says. “I’m sure Mr. Charisma over here can work his charm”—she gestures at Garrett—“but you’ll have your work cut out for you. Nicki doesn’t let guys get close to her, though there’s a dude that’s been hanging around. His name is Eric, and he’s Canadian. His dad runs Simon’s kidney farm. He complicates things, but I’m pretty sure they’re just friends.”
Her eyes meet Garrett’s, and they seem to be communicating through some sort of telepathy, even though I know that’s impossible.
“You’ll see,” she says.
Garrett nods, perhaps having received the message. “His kidney farm?” he asks.
“Yes. It’s one of Simon’s many philanthropic efforts. They don’t publicize its origins—Nicki’s numbers do better if she’s seen as a humanitarian instead of a survivor—but she was very sick as a child and needed a kidney transplant. They couldn’t find a match, so Simon found a way to grow new kidneys for her using pig stem cells. It was so successful he started a farm to grow them for other people. Simon and Nicki are very close because of it. And I’ll warn you—she may seem like an impractical heiress, but she’s not. She’s sharp. Her fans engage more when she comes off as a party girl, but there’s a lot going on behind those eyes. Simon is breeding her to be his successor. She won’t be easy to fool.”
“We need to figure out what she wants to get close to her,” Garrett says, tapping his fingers on the table, lost in thought.
“She has everything she could ever need. All she has to do is snap her fingers, and her dad will make it happen,” Faye says.
He shakes his head. “Everyone wants something,” he says. “I’ll find the thing—the experience—the answer only I can give her…”
My stomach constricts at the thought of them together, and I’m instantly annoyed for caring.
“I’m sure you will.” Faye smirks. “You’ll meet her tomorrow night. There’s a charity event benefiting the kidney farm at the San Francisco opera house. Find a way to meet her there—tell her your sister Betsy is a transplant survivor—she’s a sucker for those. That’ll be your common ground.” She focuses on a point over my shoulder, and the mole man from earlier is reflected in the mirror, walking in the door. Her attention back on us, Faye slides an envelope across the table. “Your tickets.” Without another word, she rises and greets the mole man. Arms linked, they exit.
“She’s amazing,” I say, watching her swaying hips in the mirror as she swishes out of the shop.
“I told you.” Scooting my chair closer to him, Garrett takes a small silvery pouch out of his pocket and slides it toward me. “This is for you.” His voice is low, and his breath is warm on my cheek, sending sparks up my arm.
“What is it?”
“Your cache. Do you know where you’re going to hide it?”
Nodding, I slip the bag seamlessly into the garter on my thigh so nobody will notice the exchange.
“I hope I don’t need it.” The cache contains new AMPs, a currency card—everything I need to create a new identity if something goes wrong—and I plan to bury it in the Presidio Pet Cemetery.
“Me, too, but you always need an exit strategy. Never tell anyone where it is. Not even me.” Leaning in, he clasps his fingers behind my neck, tugging my face so close our noses practically touch.
Blood rushes to my head, dizzying me.
“Give me a five-minute head start before you leave, and make sure you aren’t followed,” he whispers. “Slow down, speed up, stay alert, make random stops. After you’ve hidden the cache, meet me at the apartment. Take an unusual path to get there—don’t have any patterns. Use your map of the city, not devices, and don’t be nervous.”
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, certain my heart is going to slam out of my chest.
His eyes hold mine. “Believe me, I’d rather not let you out of my sight, but this is something you have to do on your own. You’ve got this.”
<
br /> My insides clench, and I squelch the urge to giggle.
Giving my neck a final squeeze, he stands. “See you in a little bit. We have an exciting night of kidney failure research ahead of us.”
“Can’t wait.” I attempt a smile.
He heads out the door.
Instantly chilled by his absence, I rub my arms, realizing how much I’ve come to rely on him. I spread my map on the table and trace the path to the cemetery even though I’ve been studying for months and have committed it to memory. The preparation settles my nerves. Breathing calm into my lungs, I grit my teeth.
He’s right. I’ve got this.
…
I bury my cache behind the grave site for Tweek and Buffy—beloved hamsters—and make it to the apartment without incident. Punching in the code Abignail gave us before we left, I open the door to find Kyran, Rayelle, and Garrett lounging on couches in the stark living room.
“Rayelle!” My heart leaps. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprise!” she says. “Apparently your heist needs ours, so we get to be roommates!”
“Really?”
“We all have our own rooms, though,” she says, pressing a button on a remote. The walls rotate around us, revealing four small bedrooms. “Unless you two want to room together.” Grinning, she has zero regard that Garrett and Kyran are listening. “That can be arranged.” She presses another button, and the wall between the two bedrooms on the right retreats.
“Rayelle!” My cheeks get hot. “Absolutely not,” I say before Garrett can answer—or get any ideas. He’d probably love to torture me all night with quizzes on how to tell if someone is lying or best stalking practices.
I glance at him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s busy reading a book with a kidney on the cover.
“Unless you want to share, Kyran,” she says. “Elisha likes her privacy. I, on the other hand, don’t need walls…”
I raise my eyebrows at her, silently saying, we need to talk!
“No thanks.” Kyran takes the remote and puts up the wall.
Rayelle plops onto the couch, unfazed.
“So you’re allowed to tell us what your heist is?” I ask, sinking down next to her.
“I guess.” She shrugs, looking to Kyran for confirmation.
“We’re supposed to steal a ring,” he says.
Chapter Thirty-One
March 20X6, San Francisco
I can’t sleep. I’ve been tossing and turning all night, even though we stayed up late listening to the details of Kyran and Rayelle’s heist and I should be exhausted. It turns out their heist is also to steal a ring, but it’s a different ring than the one Garrett and I are after. They’re supposed to steal a Byzantine-era Italian ring from the de Young Museum and give it to us. We have no idea what we’re supposed to do with it—hopefully it will all make sense once they give us the ring—but that’s the least of my worries.
How am I going to walk into the Influencer world tomorrow? What if the cameras recognize me? Do I even remember how to act like an Influencer?
My mind is racing. Needing a distraction and hoping recalling the details of Influencer life will help me prepare for meeting Nicki tomorrow, I take out my journal.
…
June 25, 20X5
Truth: I am never trapped. There is always a new world beyond the bubble, just waiting to be discovered.
The boat bumped against the dock, and I accepted the hand of a waiting staff member who escorted me to land. Flickering lanterns lined a trail to the house, which rose up out of the darkness, a turreted beacon ablaze with lights. It had seven bedrooms and seven en suite baths. Tonight, only the “VIP” crew was in attendance—somehow my parents had convinced them to come—and we each had our own room. Not that it will keep Adam and Deena apart. My stomach knotted at the thought of seeing them again—of seeing them together—but I gritted my teeth and marched up the path. Bernard followed, on guard to keep me from running.
As if he could stop me.
Tomorrow night, when the shore was packed with up-and-coming Influencers, I was supposed to pretend to get drunk on the yacht and accept a speedboat ride from a handsome stranger. Allard said I’d know him when I saw him. Part of me wondered if she’d been disconnected too long—everyone in attendance would be beyond gorgeous, and I wasn’t sure I’d recognize him—but I trusted she was right. The plan was for us to have an “unfortunate” boating accident and disappear. He’d make sure remnants of our boat washed up on shore, along with my shoes, before we slipped away on bikes he had hidden in the woods. Simple. There would be a manhunt, and my parents would have the lake dragged, but my body would never emerge. The media would speculate, but eventually my parents would make sure I was believed dead. I could count on that. It was in their best interest. The world would eat out of their hands as they mourned my loss. I was tying everything up in a neat little package for them.
Except, apparently, they had their own ideas.
When I arrived in the foyer, the celebrity-event planner greeted me. “Your friends are in the game room,” she said. “You’re to join them. I’ll make sure your bags are placed in the master bedroom.”
Two sweeping staircases spiraled up to the second floor. I already knew what the upstairs looked like, having watched my friends tour the house via their live Network feeds while I was on the boat. They’d gone offline only a short time ago, so the real party was just beginning. “I’d prefer the turret room,” I replied. “It seems fitting for a prisoner, don’t you think?” And I’m sure Adam and Deena will claim the master.
Turning my back on her, I burst through the carved wood doors into the game room before I lost my nerve. Six heads swiveled, and they all stared, their eyes masked by AMPs. Everyone stood around the pool table. Jax was shooting while Bryce looked on, leaning on his cue. Lil and Kylie were sipping pink champagne. Adam had his arm draped around Deena’s waist but immediately dropped his hand, inching away from her, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
Good. I hope I make him sweat.
“There she is,” Deena said, plastering a wide smile on her hollow face. “The birthday girl! Put your headset on, silly. Come into the real party.”
“Why? You can’t face me in reality?” I picked up a VR headset and pulled it on so I could see what they were seeing. The room transformed into a carnival of flashing lights and sound. Everything was black and white, from the fortune teller’s striped tent to the game booths, with the exception of the game pieces. And us. The pool table was black, but the balls glowed neon. Beyond the distant Ferris wheel, its lights cast in vivid color, I sensed we were encased in glass—a snow globe or a crystal ball—trapped.
“Oh, Ella, let’s forget the past,” Deena said, her avatar coming to my side and resting her head on my shoulder. “I’m willing to start over if you are.”
“Why? What’s in it for you? I’m Network poison.” Sidestepping her, I digested their reimagined forms—Deena was curvier, Lil taller—and landed on Adam.
There was an apology in his stare that I took for guilt, and I steeled myself against him.
Liar.
“Ella! We missed you is all.” Kylie threw her arms around my neck. “I promise.”
“Have some champagne,” Lil said. “We have so much to tell you.” Her words slurred, and she’d clearly had too much already. Pouring me a glass, she let the bubbles foam over the sides. In the virtual world, they looked like oozing lava.
I didn’t know why they were being nice to me. Maybe being miserable for two days is too much to handle so they popped some extra pills. Whatever the reason, it was fine with me. I would play along with anything in order to escape.
Putting on a happy face, I squeezed Kylie back. “I totally missed you guys, too. Savannah was the loneliest.”
“It looked like you worked a lot,” Adam said, focusi
ng on the shot he was lining up.
“You were paying attention?” Accepting my glass from Lil, I tried to sound coy, but I couldn’t keep the edge from my voice. “I thought you were too busy to notice I was gone.”
“He was pretty busy.” Bryce snorted and drank from the glowing purple guitar he wore strapped across his chest.
Adam glared at him before igniting the five ball in a swirl of orange sparks, sinking it in the corner pocket. He turned to me. “Do you seriously want to do this here, Ella? Now? Do you want to hear what I’m thinking?”
Surprised by the edge in his voice, I faltered, noticing the small smile that formed on Lil’s lips before she hid it.
He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Did you expect me to come running after you dragged me through the mud?” His voice was ice.
“I did what?” I sputtered. “You’re the one who made me think you liked me, then hooked up with my best friend.”
Ignoring me, he took his next shot. The six ball glowed green as it landed in the side pocket. “What, did you expect me to send you flowers after you tried to destroy my reputation?”
What did the Myrna-bot post? Dread landed with a sickening thud in my belly, and the carnival swirled around me. I didn’t know which side was up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My parents made me leave without saying goodbye. They took over my feeds, cut me off. I’ve been off the grid.”
“Don’t lie, Ella,” Deena said. “We all know you posted it.”
“I’m not lying.” Caught in a landslide of confusion, I felt tears roll freely down my avatar’s cheeks. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t trust any of you to tell me the truth.”
Across the room, Bryce grunted. “This is boring, you guys. Can we get on with the game?”
Just then, a stranger appeared wearing a long, black cape, his teeth carved into fangs. Eyes glowing purple, he hissed, sending Kylie and Lily screaming under the pool table and Deena into Adam’s arms.
I jumped. It’s not real. This is some strange team building exercise my parents designed to band us together in a once-in-a-lifetime experience against an evil vampire. Blood rushing in my ears, I breathed deep to calm down. They’re so clueless and theatrical, they literally thought vampire therapy would save us. Ripping the headset off my face, I threw it on the ground.
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