The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2)

by Ramona Finn

  Someone screamed, far below, and I heard Lock jerk upright. I had just enough time to wonder if he’d been sleeping before the sirens kicked in.

  “Hey, Lock?”

  No answer. I rattled the vent again.

  “Lock. Get down here.”

  “’S okay. It’s just a gretha flare.” His voice was thick and slurred with sleep. “If it was anything serious, they’d—”

  “I’m not worried.” I edged closer to the vent. “We need to talk now. While the siren’s still going.”

  “You think someone’s listening?”

  “I don’t know, but they could be.” I lowered my voice to a hiss. “I need you to swear you won’t cough up any details.”

  “Any details?”

  “About the Outsiders.” My pulse picked up. “Lita and Derrick did right by you. They let your friends go. You can’t put their lives at risk.”

  The siren cut out and ramped up again. I thought I heard Lock sigh. “I won’t talk,” he said. “But it’s not going to matter. The way they just came for us, they know something’s up. Your sister probably squealed, or they—”

  “She didn’t.” I gave the vent a shake. “They’re bluffing, trying to scare us. Like my mom—that was always her trick. She’d have no clue what we did, or if we did anything at all, but if she thought we looked guilty, she’d sit us down in the kitchen and ask ‘why’d you do it?’ And we’d crack every time, point our fingers at each other—”

  “I won’t point any fingers.” Lock grunted. “Did you hear that, just now?”

  “Hear what?”

  His voice dropped to a growl. “Trust me. Just trust me.”

  I heard the scrape and creak of a door opening, and the scuffle of boots. Something hard hit the vent and set it thrumming. A buzzer went close by, and I knew Lock was gone. I called out to him anyway, and the siren wailed back. Trust me, he’d said. I closed my eyes and tried, but his boast from Outside haunted me, words I couldn’t shake. I’m a trained Decemite.

  I knew what that meant.

  My turn came soon enough, a quick march down the hall and a shove that sent me reeling. I blundered into blinding light and slammed full-tilt into a table. The breath whoofed out of me and I crumpled, doubling nearly in half.

  “Watch where you’re going.” One of my guards caught my collar and steered me to a chair. The other shackled me to it, hands and feet. I blinked till my vision cleared, and I saw I was in an interrogation room somewhat larger than my cell, but just as plain. A camera hung in one corner, its sensor glowing red. When I leaned back, it followed me, and I wondered who was watching.

  “Don’t fidget,” said someone. I craned to see who’d spoken. My cuffs caught me mid-turn, biting into my wrists. I spotted a man in the doorway, a Lofty from the looks of him, gray hair to his shoulders, bald on top. He was fiddling with a tablet, stabbing pettishly at the screen.

  “What—?”

  “Hold your horses.” He turned his back on me, and I found myself admiring his coat. It was splendid, long and elegant, tapered at the waist. Its cuffs were richly embroidered, all shades of red and gold. They gleamed when he moved, and I wondered if they felt soft or metallic.

  “Myla Hyde.” He skirted the table and took a seat facing mine. “I’m Prium Lazrad.” He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. His face was strange, but I knew his name as well as anyone. I knew who he was—Lady Lazrad’s great-nephew, and her head of security.

  I swallowed, dry-mouthed, as he peeled off his gloves. He had long, bony fingers—a long, bony frame—but he didn’t look fragile. He looked hard as gunmetal, all vicious angles. When he smiled, his lips went white.

  “You’re quite rude,” he said. “I don’t rate a hello?”

  “Hello.” I shifted without meaning to. My chair scraped on the floor. Prium made a tutting sound.

  “You mean, ‘hello, sir.’”

  “Hello, sir.” I couldn’t stop staring at his hands. They were big, agile as spiders, and just as restless. Twitching to get at me. I had no doubt he could hurt me, no doubt he’d done it to others before me.

  He drew his tablet toward him and thumbed it to life. My picture filled the screen, and he swiped it away. “You ran,” he said. “You stole a mask, a tank, a Geiger counter, and a set of overalls belonging to one... Garis Silverman.” He tapped the screen one more time, and it went black. He wore his nails long, I noticed, lacquered red at the tips. “What did you hope to achieve?”

  I stared at his hands some more. His nails gleamed wet and bloody, like they’d just tapped an artery. If he cut me, I’d heal. I’d heal too fast. He’d know.

  Prium cleared his throat. “I believe I asked you a question.”

  “Ona,” I croaked. I coughed and tried to cover it, and my cuff pinched my wrist. I flinched.

  “Oh? Did you hurt yourself?” Prium leaned forward, and I thought his eyes twinkled—maybe waspish amusement, maybe a trick of the light. His tongue darted out, red as his nails. “Go on. You were saying?”

  “My sister. I went looking for her. I heard she—” I shut my mouth with a snap. I’d had my story worked out, how I’d looked but never found her, but what if Lock was right? What if she had talked? What if Prium had made her? He was eyeing me like dinner. Hungry, I thought, and I shivered. “Is she here? Is she alive?”

  Prium made a humming sound. “Your sister did return to us, but...”

  But?

  Waves of hot and cold surged through me, popping sweat down my neck. I swayed where I sat, and I guessed my fear was showing, just like Lock had said. I couldn’t have hidden it if I’d tried. But. She’d come home, but. Time hung on his next words—but what?

  “Your capture,” said Prium. “Where was that?”

  I gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing on but.

  “The Outsiders. Where did they seize you?” Prium leaned forward, a sudden, sharp movement. I lurched back with a shriek. My answer came tumbling out of me like the shock had knocked it loose.

  “Some canyon,” I babbled. “I don’t know. It was dark.” Sweat pooled between my thighs, and my teeth began to chatter. I dug my nails into my palms, and still, the words kept coming. “Lock made me hide. I didn’t see much, just rocks and—is Ona here? Did you—did you—?”

  “Did I what?” Prium cocked his head.

  I ground my teeth. He’d flipped me paws-up, soft parts on display. He had me. He was toying with me, and I knew it, but—

  But.

  “What, you think I’d harm her?”

  “No.” I shook my head so furiously the room spun. “I just meant, where is she? Is she alive? Is she—”

  “Breathe,” said Prium.

  “Wh-what?”

  “I said, breathe.”

  I didn’t dare disobey. I gulped in a whooping breath, spluttered spit down my chin. Prium thumbed a speck off his cheek.

  “Now do that again, but count to five.”

  I did as he said. My lungs spasmed and protested, but I managed to fill them. I thought I might faint or puke up my breakfast, but Prium hadn’t answered my question. I sat holding my breath, trembling like a leaf, and my world was just but. Your sister did return to us, but...

  I couldn’t feel my legs.

  “Breathe out.” Prium was smiling again, a bright, cheery grin. He was enjoying this, I realized—basking in my terror. I breathed out anyway and felt a little steadier.

  “Your sister is fine,” said Prium. He glanced at his watch. “She should be sleeping by now, but I assure you she’s safe. She’s been—”

  I grayed out for a moment, all loose with relief. Fine. Safe. Sleeping. Prium’s voice went deep and sloshy, like he’d dipped underwater, or I had. I grinned without meaning to. I felt light as a feather.

  “Miss Hyde.” Prium’s good humor seemed to desert him. He leaned back, looking bored. “Did you hear me? She’s back with your parents, enjoying all the comforts of home. Wouldn’t you like to join her?”

  I sucked i
n a quick, wary breath. The question felt like a trap. “I—”

  “Of course you would.” Prium chuckled. “The things you must have seen, must have done to survive—oh, I dread to think.” He licked his lips again, like he didn’t dread it one bit. Like he relished the idea. “You were stupid,” he said. “Bad enough you risked your own life, but to risk Lock’s as well—” He tsked at me. “What were you doing at the vent?”

  “I followed the tracks,” I said. It came out snippy, and Prium’s eyes narrowed.

  “The tracks?”

  I sought calm within myself, in the memory of Ben’s eyes, how they’d burned warm with lamplight, deep in the caves. I was angry—no, furious—now I knew Ona was safe. Prium was a bully, a mean little man. I’d let him get to me, and I wanted to scream. “The buggy tracks,” I said. “I thought if Ona was out there, she’d be... where Decemites go.”

  “And you’re lucky you found one. Luckier than you know.” Prium’s smile widened, too toothy by far. “Have you seen what happens to your kind, left to wander?”

  I ducked my head. “You mean the mutants?”

  “The rebels have other names for them. Freaks. Ghouls. Deadheads.” He toyed with his cufflink, twiddling it between his fingers. His eyes had gone empty, faraway. “They’re not dead, though,” he said. “Not all the way through. They still respond to sensation, to touch, to heat. To pain. I’ve wondered how that must feel, rotting away piece by piece. It’s a shame they can’t speak, really. So many questions they could answer.”

  I kept my head down, studying the backs of my hands. I’d had it with Prium, him and his casual sadism. I willed him to stop talking, just cough up my punishment and get out of my face. He snapped his fingers for my attention.

  “They sicken you. I can see that. They make me sick, too.” He stood and turned away from me, hands clasped behind his back. “Even the Decemites get squeamish around them—but not Lock. Just think, had he not found you... those teeth. Those claws.”

  I manufactured a whimper. Teeth. Claws. Sure.

  “That’s why he’s so valuable,” said Prium. “And that’s what makes your transgression so severe, putting him in harm’s way.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. It came out harsh, like a curse. Prium didn’t seem to notice. He circled around me, heels clicking on the concrete.

  “Lock’s described your captivity,” he said. “You must be desperate for a bath. A warm blanket.” He dropped his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. He squeezed harder when I shuddered, finding pressure points under my skin. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

  I squirmed where I sat, swallowing bile. I knew what he was waiting for—details, the kind I’d never give.

  “Myla?”

  “I don’t want to remember,” I whispered. Lock’s words echoed in my head—persuade ‘em you’re loyal. Do that, and we’ll live. My eyes pricked with tears, and I let them fall. “Lock told me, when they took us, that they’re brigands and killers. I didn’t want to believe him, but it’s... true.”

  Prium said nothing. I hung my head.

  “I was stupid,” I said. “I made a horrible mistake. If I could take it back, I would. Tell Lock I’m sorry.”

  “Tell him yourself.” Prium’s grip went slack. “I could punish you, but why bother? Our rebel friends seem to have done a fine job of that.” He leaned close and twined his fingers through my hair. His nails grazed my scalp, and I bit back a cry. “Would you like to go home?” he asked.

  I nodded, too eagerly. My hair pulled and tore.

  “You’d be watched closely. You couldn’t speak of what you saw, not even to your parents.”

  “I wouldn’t. Not a word.”

  Prium brushed a tear from my lashes. I held my breath. This was the part where he’d rip the rug out from under me. Clench his fist in my hair and twist hard. Laugh in my face—

  “Your sister has quite the silver tongue,” he said. He let me go with a chuckle. “Made me swear I’d be kind to you, before she spilled her guts.”

  “Before she—” I choked on the lump in my throat.

  “You’ll see her soon.” He reached for his gloves and tugged them back on. “I’d escort you home, but I’ve business elsewhere.”

  I let myself slump where I sat. Prium left, and the guards came back. One of them unfastened my shackles, hands first, then feet. I stayed where I was, arms dangling at my sides.

  “Well? What’re you waiting for? Go.”

  I wasn’t sure I could stand, but when I did, my legs were steady. I walked out without stumbling, head held high. I went the wrong way at first, back toward the cells, and instead of turning back, I stopped to gather myself, back pressed to the wall. I stayed there, just breathing, till my nausea was gone. My fear remained, lodged uncomfortably in my throat. I was alone in every way that mattered—alone in my mission. Alone with my secrets. If Ben were here—if I were there—

  I banished the thought as quickly as it had come. I couldn’t dwell on the past. I was on a mission, and nothing else mattered. Ben wouldn’t get distracted, and neither could I.

  “Myla. There you are.” Lock jogged up, smiling. “I’ve been looking all over. What are you doing back here?”

  “Waiting for you,” I lied. I hooked my arm through his and marched him down the hall, where the rattling fans grew deafening. “Prium said you guys talked. Did you say anything?”

  “What?” Lock crowded in closer, stooping to listen.

  “I said, did you talk?”

  “No.” He walked me past the fans, lowering his voice to a murmur. “I couldn’t have, even if I wanted to. He asked what I was doing out so late. I said ‘hunting mutants,’ and that was it. He just did his gropey thing and let me go.”

  “His gropey thing?”

  “Yeah, you know. The whole hands on your shoulders, who’s-a-good-boy—like he thinks you’re a dog, or something.” He shook himself out, much like a wet puppy, and made a brr sound. “Everyone hates it, but what can you do?”

  My stomach lurched and gurgled. I caught myself on the railing, retching dryly. Lock held me steady with an arm around my waist.

  “Myla? You okay?” His grip tightened. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” I leaned over the railing and waited for my head to stop spinning. “He scared me, is all. I asked about Ona, and he... For a while there, I thought she was dead.”

  Lock made a hissing sound. He pulled me back from the railing and wrapped his arms around me. I stood and let him hold me, grateful for his warmth. I had to admit, he gave good hugs, warm and solid, not too tight. I laid my head on his chest and let his breathing soothe my jitters.

  “I think Ona talked,” I said. “That’s why he went easy on us.”

  “Doesn’t sound like he went so easy on you.” Lock stepped back, frowning. “You gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t be mad at your sister.” Lock looked back the way we’d come. “Whatever she said, I doubt she had much choice. And we might just owe her our lives. So tell her thanks. Don’t make her feel bad.”

  “I won’t,” I said, but I wasn’t sure I meant it.

  Just what had she told Prium?

  Chapter Three

  “You’re home!” Ona came flying down the steps, nightshirt flapping behind her. She vaulted over the rock pile and barreled into my arms, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Prium said you were coming, but I couldn’t believe it till I saw you.”

  I choked back a laugh. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

  “I know. I don’t care.” She pushed me away, eyes bright with tears. “Why are you so dirty?”

  “I ran twelve hours through the mud. Why are you so clean?”

  “I took a bath before bed.” Ona smirked through her tears. “And I used all the hot water, so sucks to be you.”

  “Same old Ona, I see.” I pulled her in for another hug. “Now you’re dirty, too.”

  “Doesn’t m
atter. You’re home.” She crushed me against her, so tight I couldn’t breathe. “I heard about D-team. I heard they shot someone. I thought it might’ve been—I thought you were gone.” Her chest hitched, and she sniffed. “It’d be just like you, getting caught up like that. Getting yourself killed, all for nothing.”

  “Not for nothing.” I stroked her hair absently. It was still damp from her bath, fragrant with shampoo. “Let’s get you inside.”

  Ona clung to my hand as we made our way in. A fresh wave of dizziness threatened to sweep me off my feet, not the sick kind from before, but an odd sense of disconnect, the familiar made strange. The walls were the same, cracked plaster and mildew. The top stair still creaked under our weight. The door opened the same, on the same narrow hall, but everything looked faded, like I’d been gone years. It looked smaller, as well, our cramped kitchen table, the sink and the fridge. A jug of water stood on the counter, and I poured myself a glass.

  “Where’s Mom? Is she home?”

  “She wanted to be, but they moved her to swing shift. She left an hour ago.” Ona bounced on the balls of her feet. “How was it with Prium? Did he—?”

  I set down my water, untouched. “Did he what?”

  “He said he’d be nice to you. We had a deal.”

  “A deal, huh?” I braced myself on the counter, holding my temper in check. For all I knew, she’d lied through her teeth, spun Prium some yarn and spared everyone. “What was your end of that deal?”

  “Nothing bad.” Ona drew herself up, and I knew it was bad. She planted her hands on her hips, same way she’d done since she was two. It meant she’d done wrong, but she wouldn’t admit it. “I know what you’re thinking, but I said what I had to say. Nothing more.”

  “And what’d you have to say?”

  “What they wanted to hear. How rigur’s mined. How they get it out of the rock. Where the next mine’ll be, when that new shaft runs dry.” She narrowed her eyes, as though bracing herself for a blow. “That was my mission. If I didn’t tell them, they’d—”