“How did that work?” I see my jaw hanging open in my reflection and close it quickly.
“Nanocircuits built into the mirrors. My programmed circuits only recognize me, and I transfer two passwords before I leave, so only I know the answer.”
“Two?”
“One for ‘everything is okay’ and one for ‘I’m in trouble.’”
“And pygmy hippos are . . . ?”
Her face brightens with a warm smile. “That one is code for ‘everything’s okay.’”
“What’s the code if everything’s not okay?”
Marka doesn’t miss a beat. “Coprolite.”
Fossilized dino crap. How appropriate. “What’s with the security? Are we going to a bank vault or your house?”
“Home, not house,” she corrects me. “You’ll understand soon enough why there are security measures.” She waves me into the transport, whose walls are covered in a million black polka dots. “Okay, don’t move. I’ll go up after you.” She points to foot-shaped pads in the center of the transport and I stand on them obediently.
“Uh. It’s not going to hurt, right?”
“Only a little. Just remember not to move.”
“Wha—?”
But it’s too late. The doors shut and inside, the little black dots on the transport bulge. Tiny ebony points, hundreds of thousands of them, start coming straight at my body from all directions. They are needle sharp. Now I know why she told me not to move. They come closer and closer until each one is touching a single point on my body. It’s like an iron maiden from the Middle Ages, only with a much bigger ego. I can’t breathe, or I’ll get needled in the chest. I can’t cry out, or my cheeks will get pierced.
Just when I can’t hold out any longer, a single sharp jab hits the back of my left thigh. And just like that, the needles recede into the walls and the transport is flying upward. It opens to a white hallway, flanked by two heavy-looking steel doors at each end with matching red blinking dots beside them. Soon, Marka emerges out of the Iron Maiden Transport of Hell, rubbing her left hip.
“What was that all about?” I complain.
“Blood test, to make sure you are a member of Carus House, or an approved visitor. We logged in your blood sample from New Horizons only an hour ago. The needles pick a random place every time, so you can’t fake it with a little packet of blood.”
“Carus House?”
“Your new home,” she says, smiling. “My mother named it, actually. She was a linguist. She used to call me ‘mea cara una,’ or ‘my beloved one,’ when I was a child.” Marka leads me toward one of the doors, but I don’t follow her.
“Why couldn’t my sister come with me? Can you tell me now?”
Marka leans against the white wall. “Remember the blood tests at New Horizons?”
“Yeah.”
“The tests aren’t just to match you to a foster home. There are people screening the samples for special kids.”
“Special.” I let the word bob on the ocean of thoughts sloshing around in my brain.
“Dylia got flagged because her test was positive. Those people found out about it and acted before I could. That’s why they took her so fast.”
“I don’t understand. What people took her? What do you mean by ‘special’?”
Marka waves me over to the door. This time, Marka has to voice ID, fingertip ID, and punch in several codes before the door will open, but she does each one very slowly, to give her time to explain.
“There are a few rare people who have gifts, Zelia. Traits. And they’re kept away from the public for a lot of reasons. There’s one big underground organization that takes them in, the ones who took your sister. And there are other places too. Safe houses.” The door clicks open, and I hear another click down the hallway where the other door has unlocked simultaneously.
“Safe for who?” I ask. It’s an innocent question, but just then, the door opens. Marka props it open so I can enter, but after only one step, I freeze.
Inside is my new foster family, ready to welcome me.
At first, all I see is tattoos. The tallest person, a guy, leans against a big dining table in the center of a sparsely furnished room. He’s dressed in ash-colored clothes and is blanketed with ink. Black swirls, bodies in motion, scythes and hellfire twist together on his arms, neck, and half his face. A black ring hangs on his lower lip, while his ears are pierced with chunky black bars. Under a headful of closely cut, brownish-black hair, his eyes stare at me coldly.
Seated on the floor next to the table is a girl, but I blink a few times because I swear, she looks green. There must be a weird lamp reflecting off her skin, but after a quick glance around, I see there isn’t. Even seated, it’s clear she’s tall and curvy, and that her complexion is very real. She’s poisonously green and looking only slightly less belligerent than the boy.
Over to the left, there’s a glass wall showing the dull blue underside of Neia’s agriplane melting into the horizon. Leaning against the glass is another boy with the build of a wrestler. His eyes and hair are black, skin pale, and his bulging arms fold across his chest as he cracks a genuine, friendly smile.
“Hi.” He waves at me, but now my mouth is wide open. He hasn’t moved his crossed arms. The waving hand comes down to rest on his hip. There is a matching one on the other side. Four arms. He’s so muscular that I don’t see the other person standing behind him.
The last boy comes forward, a sheepish smile on his boyish, sweet face. Erupting out of the angle between his neck and left shoulder is a large, bulbous, skin-covered mass. It’s like the kid has two skulls, but the extra one sits there like a ball of flesh so monstrously wrong. The kid scratches this extra, faceless globe, and his smile disappears. He looks at Marka apologetically and shrugs, one shoulder bumping against his second head.
“Here we go. Three, two, one . . .” he says, pursing his lips.
On zero, I turn around to flee.
CHAPTER 5
I DON’T BOTHER WITH THE TRANSPORT because there’s no button to push. At the end of the white hallway, I see the other metal door. A tiny light beside it blinks green. It’s open!
Behind me, there’s a rush of alarmed voices and running feet. A single deep voice rises above the babble.
“I’ll get her.”
And then I really run.
What kind of crazy, horrific stuff is going on here? God, for all I know, Dyl is being eaten alive by a different set of freaks on the other side of town. I’m not going to be anyone’s experiment. The solution to getting Dyl back can’t possibly rest with those things in there. I never should have trusted Marka.
I smash into the door and it bangs open, revealing a wide spiral stairwell. I expect to see the steps wind all the way down to the ground, but after a few twists, a white plane intersects the stairs, closing it off.
Natural light enters from somewhere, a window maybe. The agriplane. I have to try.
I pound up the stairs, matching each step with a lungful of air, trying to meet the demand my heart requires. I flick my holo stud on.
“Emergency! Police, anybody—” I gasp into the screen, but it’s nothing but gray fuzz. Cripes. I hit the top of the stairs, sheltered under a glowing white dome with a huge fan spinning lazily behind a metal grate. One single door has a red light next to it. Locked again. A few feet away, a window glows so brightly, I shield my eyes for a second. The sound of thudding feet rises up the helix of stairs.
I rush to the window. There is a field of gold and a sky of blue. The real sky. How can I break the window? In a panic, I scan the landing where a pile of stuff sits, as if waiting to be taken outside. I grab a heavy stick with a metal tool on the end, the teeth jagged and sharp. The thumping feet are only one flight below.