Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(93)

The girl sat hunched, like she was trying to shrink away. The boy was her opposite. Everything about him felt defiant. His uniform sleeves were rolled up, and he angled his body toward the girl, making it clear he would not be kept away from her. His ability pin was silver, with a black hand reaching from the center like it was trying to claw free. Sophie assumed that meant he was the Shade.

She was still studying the boy, trying to decide if she believed the boobrie dude’s warnings about him, when the purple Coach shouted for everyone to get into position. Sophie copied the others as they folded their legs crisscross-applesauce and kept their backs rigid.

“Our bodies need food,” her Coach said, “but they do not need to be hungry. Hunger is a choice—a warning system that can be switched off by those strong enough to defy it. Take control. Concentrate. And put your head between your knees if you feel faint.”

The first hour passed easily, though Sophie had to keep tilting her legs so her butt wouldn’t go numb. But as the second hour stretched into the third, she could feel the sloshy sourness in her belly growing. She hadn’t had breakfast—choosing to nab an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. She regretted that decision when her stomach started growling.

“Stop giving in to your weakness,” her Coach told her.

GROOOOOOOWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLL! her stomach protested.

She tried to take her mind off it by repeating what little she’d learned. Clearly the physician knew something about the plague, but he wasn’t telling. She wondered if asking adults was the wrong way to go. Maybe she’d have better luck if she found a way to talk to one of the Waywards—but who? Without seeing their faces she couldn’t tell if any of them looked friendly. All she had to go by were their ability pins.

She knew the Telepath pin was blue, with a silhouette of a face and a lightning bolt zapping across the brain—way prettier than her Inflictor pin, which was black with a silver hand radiating jagged silver lines. Her Polyglot pin had a purple background with pink lips and a white speech bubble, and her Teleporter pin was her favorite—a starry sky with a flying alicorn. She also knew from Dex that the Technopath pin was dark green with a silver handprint covered in black lines like circuits and wires, and Keefe’s Empath pin was red with an open book and a silver heart painted across the pages.

But the rest she had to guess. Could the yellow pin with two hands holding the sun mean a Flasher? Was the tree with wind-whipped branches a Guster? And what did it matter anyway? Were certain abilities friendlier?

Her eyes traveled back to the Shade and she sucked in a breath when she realized his head was tilted toward her.

Sophie? Fitz transmitted, nearly making her scream. Sorry for slipping past your blocking without permission, he said. I kept trying to get your attention, but you never looked over, and I realized you didn’t know Biana and I both ended up in Left Hemisphere. I’ll cough so you can see where we are.

Soft hacking drew her gaze to two cloaked figures somewhat close together on the far side of the red tent.

Where’s Dex?

He’s with Keefe in the Right Hemisphere. You okay over there all alone?

Of course. But her mind wandered to the Shade.

Why’s he staring at you? Fitz asked, reminding her he could see what she was thinking.

I don’t know. But the physician said he’s the worst Wayward here.

I wouldn’t be surprised. Shades control darkness with a force they call shadowvaper. I don’t really understand it. But you should never trust a Shade—especially one who ends up here.

And yet, when the Hydrokinetic girl started swaying from hunger, the Shade scooted closer, helping her put her head between her knees until she caught her breath.

That’s the girl who saved you, Fitz transmitted. You should’ve seen how crazy her power is. She waved her arms and this huge wave curled out of the fog, and I swear it looked like she grabbed you with a giant water hand. Then she set you down and the hand reached up and smacked the arch until all the flames had been stamped out. I’m pretty sure everyone thinks you’re a Pyrokinetic now, by the way. Even I wondered for a second—especially when I saw how fast the flames moved. And they were white, like those fires Brant set before.

I know—I don’t understand, Sophie said. Why would the Black Swan give us something to make fire like Pyrokinetics?

Maybe they wanted to even our chances against Brant.

Maybe. Not that she loved the idea.

Her stomach growled again and she clamped her hands around her middle.

Wow, I heard that all the way over here. You need to think about food. It tricks your stomach. What would you eat right now if you could?

Sophie’s mouth watered as she thought of Calla’s starkflower stew. But the happy memory quickly drifted to how she imagined the gnomes in quarantine must look—which did at least kill her appetite.

How long do you think we have before someone dies? she asked Fitz.

Hopefully long enough.

And hopefully tomorrow they move the campus to somewhere we actually learn something—assuming I get a bead. My fire incident was a pretty epic disaster.

Try not to worry—I think you’ll be fine.

But really, were any of them “fine”?

She thought about Keefe in the physician’s tent, in that brief glimpse of the fear and anger he was hiding.

Do you think Keefe is really okay?

I . . . don’t see how he could be.