The Cage(24)

“You are frightened.” For once, the Caretaker’s voice sounded softer, and she jerked her head toward him in surprise. Had he seen how her hands were trembling? “There is no reason to be. We do not mean to harm you. That would go against the responsibilities we have assumed.”

Before she could respond, another section of the wall slid open and starry light filled the room, blinding her. She shaded her eyes. Footsteps approached quickly. The air shot from her lungs as something slammed into her. She collided against the opposite wall with a sickening crack. She tried to breathe, but an enormous fist clamped around the back of her neck, thumb pressing into her windpipe.

When the door shut and sealed off the blinding light, she found herself inches from another Kindred. A man. This one was dressed in the same cerulean uniforms of the researchers, but his build was more like the Caretaker’s. Tall. Built like a warrior. Though, unlike the Caretaker, no scars or broken bones marred his face. He was just as strikingly beautiful as all of them, and yet his eyes were a little too sunken, a little too sharp, like a permanent knot had formed between them. He scowled, and a vertical wrinkle sliced between his eyebrows.

He spoke words she didn’t understand.

Cora couldn’t breathe. The man’s touch sparked electricity, but it wasn’t thrilling like it had been with the Caretaker. This was pulsing and painful. She clawed against his fist.

The Caretaker lowered his head as if this was his commander, and spoke in rapid, insistent words. Was he trying to help her?

A chill ran up her spine as she realized that these creatures, as mechanical as they seemed, might actually think for themselves. Disagree with each other. Argue. She almost preferred to think of them as machines.

“Do not struggle, Girl Two,” the Caretaker said. “This is the Warden of this facility. His name is Fian. He merely wishes to examine you.”

Cora jerked her head toward the dead girl they’d been examining. She started to speak, but the Warden’s hand tightened more around her windpipe. She fought the urge to claw his face off.

The Warden slowly took each of her hands—the electricity of his touch sickening her—and inspected her fingers front and back, turned her around to feel the muscles along either side of her spine, then pulled her jaw open to look at her teeth. Last, he touched her hair. It was the first time he had been at all gentle. He ran his fingers down the length of it to her chest, and then slowly wrapped one curl around his finger.

He wasn’t inspecting her like a dead body. He was inspecting her like livestock.

He released her abruptly. He said a few words in guttural tones and then, without a single glance, left through the starry doorway. Inspection over. She slumped against the wall, heart pounding.

Had she passed?

The Caretaker spoke to the researchers, who filed out of the room. One of them, a female with a thin nose and high cheekbones, threw Cora one last look, though her face was a perfect mask of non-emotion. Did the woman pity her? Was she curious? Or was it merely protocol?

The door slid closed, and Cora sank to the floor. “What was that?”

“The Warden believes your actions indicate you are not suitable for this enclosure. He intended to remove you.” His gaze veered to the dead girl, so fast she almost missed it. “I convinced him to reconsider, given your assets. I said that your presence in this chamber was accidental—that you had not intended to leave your enclosure.” He leaned over her, his face a mask of indifference. “I saved your life.”

He spoke so calmly. Cora could only stare, afraid he’d take that favor back.

“Now I must return you, and there can be no further accidents. The Warden does not offer second chances.”

He pulled her to her feet, and the spark of his electricity made her light-headed. Warm, invigorating, not like the Warden’s touch. It eased the heaviness of her limbs. He reached for the apparatus strapped to his chest.

She pulled away.

“Wait—I can’t go through that again. It feels like being ripped apart. Can’t you take me back another way?”

He paused. For a second, she wondered if he really did pity her. She wondered if they were telling the truth about their altruistic mission, and that they had saved her from a doomed planet. But then her eyes fell to the girl with the heart-shaped scar, and anger wove between her ribs. Her throat still ached from the Warden’s grip.

Strangling her hadn’t seemed very altruistic.

“Materialization is the primary means of transportation into your enclosure,” the Caretaker said. “There is a fail-safe exit in case of a technological breakdown, but this current situation does not warrant its use.”