by Aimee Carter
Celia snatched it from me. “Who are you calling?”
“None of your damn business,” I said. She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m not trying to stop you. Tell me the number and I’ll dial it for you, but first I want to know who you’re calling.”
“A friend,” I snapped. “To make sure he’s still alive. Is that all right with you?”
Knox grabbed his phone. “Both of you, stop it. Kitty, what’s the number?”
I rattled off the number of the group home, and he dialed and pushed a button so I could hear it. Instead of ringing, however, the line clicked, and a cheerful voice spoke. “We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”
Knox pressed another button, and the blue light went dark. “Are you sure that’s the right number?”
“Positive,” I said numbly. “I’ve known it forever. Can you—can you try again?”
I repeated the number slowly, but the same message played. My chest tightened as if someone were squeezing a fist around my heart. “I don’t understand. It was working before.”
“Any number of things could have happened,” said Knox. “Nina was the matron of your group home, right? They probably shut it down after she was arrested and sent the kids somewhere else.”
“They wouldn’t hurt him, would they?” I said. “He’s not even seventeen yet.”
Celia sat across from us, her legs crossed and her foot bobbing up and down as she studied me. “What did Daxton say to you?”
“Does it matter?” Knowing Daxton, Benjy was probably already dead.
“It matters a great deal,” she said. “If there’s something I can do to help you, I will.”
“You’ve done a great job so far, seeing as how I’m stuck in this situation to begin with.”
“You’re the one who agreed to this mess, Kitty, not me, and whining about it isn’t going to change a thing. You’ve been given an incredible opportunity, and if you waste it by letting Daxton blackmail you into being his puppet, I will kill you myself. So tell me,” she said. “What did he say to you?”
I turned away and rested my forehead against the cool window. It was tinted so that no one outside could see us, but I could see everything through the waning light of dusk. We drove through a part of the city I’d never been to before. Shining glass buildings rose high above us, and everything looked brand-new. Even the streetlamps were so bright that I had to squint. The wealth in this section, undoubtedly meant for Vs and VIs, was obvious. The buildings in the Heights were squat, made of brick, and older than any citizen who occupied them. There was no newness, only old that was no longer needed and could be handed down to us, the people who weren’t valuable enough to merit glass skyscrapers or shiny cars or fruit that wasn’t hours away from rotting.
Benjy would have loved this. And if Celia could help make sure he lived long enough to see it, then I had no choice but to tell her.
“I have a boyfriend,” I said at last. “Had a boyfriend, I guess. Daxton said he’d send him Elsewhere if I didn’t cooperate.”
Beside me, I heard Knox exhale, and when he tried to set his hand on my shoulder, I shrugged it off. “What’s his name?” he said.
“Benjamin Doe,” I said hollowly. “Everyone calls him Benjy.”
Celia pulled out another electronic device I didn’t recognize and pushed a few buttons. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to him. Daxton thinks he has all of us cornered, but he overestimates his own power.”
And I was sure Celia overestimated hers. “How?” I said bitterly. “Are you going to have him followed? Assign him personal protection?”
“Something like that.”
Knox fixed another drink and offered it to me. “It’s just water,” he said, and reluctantly I took it from him and sipped. I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since breakfast. “How did you meet Benjy?”
When Knox said his name, I gulped down the contents of the glass to buy myself a few moments. The idea of sharing Benjy with them made my skin crawl. No matter how much Celia and Knox pretended to care about me, it was clear they were using me as much as Daxton was. The only question was for what.
“We grew up in the same group home,” I said, staring at my drink. “We played together sometimes, and when we were seven, he did my writing homework for me without being asked—”
I stopped. They didn’t care, or if they did, it was only to use him against me. Instead of moving on, however, Knox shifted so he was facing me. When I glanced at him, I saw real interest in his eyes. Something about him was less intimidating than Celia, so as he silently encouraged me to go on, I focused on him and tried to forget that she was listening, as well.
“He knew I was struggling in class, and the teacher liked to pick on me.” It had seemed like such a big deal at the time, what Benjy had done for me, but he would have done the same thing for anyone else. He was that kind of person—the same kind who offered to run away with me and destroy the rest of his life so mine might be easier. “So he started doing my homework for me. He read to me every night, and eventually we just...” I shrugged.
Knox smiled faintly. “It sounds like you have a good friend in him.”
“He probably thinks I’m in Denver by now,” I mumbled.
“I doubt that,” said Celia, and Knox gave her a murderous look. “What?” she added. “She has a right to know.”
“A right to know what?” I said, and when they seemed too busy glaring at each other to answer me, I raised my voice. “A right to know what?”
Knox looked away, clutching his glass so tightly that I thought it would shatter. “Kitty Doe was legally declared dead the day after you arrived at the Stronghold.”
I opened and shut my mouth, but there was nothing to say. Benjy thought I was dead. First Tabs, then Nina, then me—it wasn’t just my life I’d destroyed. It was his, too. The pain and worry I’d felt for him had to be nothing compared to what he was going through. Did he blame himself? After telling the Shields where I’d gone, he must have. But it wasn’t his fault. I was the one who’d done this to him. Not the Shields, not Daxton, but me.
“What’s the date?” I said suddenly.
“The twentieth of October,” said Celia. “Why?”
I didn’t answer. Benjy’s birthday was the twenty-second, which meant I had two days until he took his test.
“Kitty—” said Knox, but I shook my head.
“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please.”
Two days. I had two days to find him until he would be gone forever, and I would never have the chance to tell him that it wasn’t his fault.
I spent the rest of the drive to Somerset in silence, staring out the window. Everything here was more than I had ever seen before. There were television screens everywhere: in shop windows, mounted on the sides of buildings, even scrolls that ran around intersections broadcasting words I couldn’t read. Instead of sidewalks, this section of the city had motorized walkways, and even though it was nearly nightfall, the rich and the powerful stood still as the walkways carried them wherever they wanted to go. How could a world like this exist so close to the Heights?
The car glided through a gate in a brick wall covered with ivy, and the world outside transformed into a lush green lawn that seemed to go on forever. I sat up straighter. A row of trees bordered the drive, their leaves brilliant shades of gold and ruby, and in the distance I noticed the edge of a looming mansion.
“We’re almost here,” said Celia. “So answer me this, Kitty—are you all right with what you’ve seen today? Do you think it’s acceptable for people to be treated no better than game?”
Still stinging from the news that Benjy thought I was dead, I glared at her. “Of course not. What do you think I am, a monster?”
“No,” said Knox. “If we thought you would go
along with Daxton and Augusta, we wouldn’t be talking to you now. But you have spunk, Kitty, and there’s so much good you could do now that you have Lila’s face. Things even Lila wasn’t able to do.”
Spunk. Daxton had said the very same thing to me. I pressed myself against the door, ready to spring free. I knew what was coming, and the car began to feel like a cage.
“You saw the speeches my daughter made,” said Celia. “She was starting a revolution right under Daxton’s nose.”
“And that’s how she wound up dead in the first place,” I said. “I’m not your puppet. I won’t dance because you tell me to.”
For a moment I thought I saw a flash of guilt cross her face, but it was gone as quickly as it’d come. “No, I suppose you won’t,” said Celia. “Whose puppet are you, Kitty? Daxton’s and my mother’s? Because from where I’m sitting, that’s exactly what it’s beginning to look like.”
“I’m not—” I began, but she cut me off.
“What do you intend to do with your life? With my daughter’s life? Will you waste it doing their bidding?”
“What, when I could be doing yours?”
Her expression hardened, but before she could say anything, Knox held up a hand. “We know you didn’t ask for this, but no matter how unfair it is, that’s the way your life is going to go from here on out. You have a choice. You can let Daxton control you and tell you what to do, you can rebel and get yourself killed, or you can listen to us and do something worthwhile. Something other than just be Lila’s replacement.”
He said that like it was easy, like there were no consequences, but each choice had a price I would have to pay one way or the other.
Knox leaned toward me, and the leather squeaked underneath him. “They gave you a III because they thought you would never amount to anything more. Are you going to prove them right?”
I scowled. I wasn’t a coward. I wasn’t afraid of dying. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t afraid of it. What I was afraid of was getting Benjy killed, and that fear was paralyzing.
Celia must have sensed my hesitation, because she said, “If it’s your friend you’re worried about, you have my word that he will be protected.”
“The same way you protected Lila?” I said, but there was no venom in my voice.
She flinched anyway, and Knox quickly cut in. “What happened to Lila was terrible, and it’s a mistake we won’t make again.”
I swallowed. Celia wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I couldn’t blame her. “You’re asking me to trust you when I don’t even know you.”
“No, you don’t,” said Knox. “But you do know Daxton and what he’s capable of. You have my word—our word that no matter what you decide and no matter what happens to you, we will protect your friend to the best of our ability.” He glanced at Celia, and she nodded wearily. “Even if you decide to play it safe and do what Daxton wants, we won’t let anything happen to Benjy.”
I covered my face with my hands and took a deep breath. There was no way for me to know if they were lying or not, and either way, I’d be pissing someone off. I wanted to believe that Knox and Celia would protect Benjy, but Celia had let her daughter die. She couldn’t guarantee Benjy his safety any more than she could guarantee me mine.
I might have lost my identity, but this was still my life, and the thought of taking orders from Daxton until he decided I was better off dead made me sick to my stomach. He’d killed Nina to show me what would happen if I didn’t behave. He’d threatened Benjy. Once he was dead, what would Daxton do to control me? Find my real parents and kill them, too?
With Daxton, the bloodshed would never end. With Celia and Knox, I could at least pretend that not everyone I loved would die for my mistakes.
The image of Nina’s blood spattered against the tree flashed in my mind, and I dug my nails into my palms. Daxton had had me until that morning. I would’ve done anything he wanted as long as it bought me time and kept me alive, and he’d known it. He’d killed Nina not to control me, but to lord over me—to prove how much power he had and how little I possessed. And now Celia and Knox were offering me a way to get some of my own. It might not have been much, but if Daxton wanted a pissing contest, then that was exactly what I would give him.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll do it as long as you keep Benjy safe. But you have to be honest with me, too. No keeping things from me, no bossing me around, and don’t treat me like I’m stupid, all right?”
Celia nodded, and Knox moved to pat my shoulder again. This time I let him. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.
Except as we drove down the winding drive, I was all too aware that there was only one way this could end, and it wouldn’t be with Celia or Knox taking the fall for me.
VIII
Somerset
As a III, I would have never been allowed to set foot into Somerset. While thousands of people were crammed within the borders of the Heights, Somerset was equally as large and catered solely to the Harts. The only way for anyone else to get inside was to work there or be invited by a member of the family. The armed guards that patrolled the gates made sure of it.
As we drove up to the mansion, I tried not to gawk, but it was impossible. Standing five stories high, the outside was painted a shimmering white that reflected the deep hues of the sunset. A massive glass wall offered a glimpse into the luxurious atrium, and I craned my neck to get a better look.
“Is this for real?” I stepped out of the car, and the gravel drive crunched beneath my boots. “This is a house?”
“This is home,” said Celia, looping her arm in mine. Two guards opened the double doors for us, and we stepped inside, Knox trailing behind us.
The entrance hall gleamed with brilliant whites and silvers, crystal and glass, and there was even an elevator that rose through the atrium. Off to the side I spotted a sitting room, richly decorated in blue and gold, and in the opposite direction I saw a door that led into a magnificent dining room. Unlike the one in the Stronghold, it could easily have held fifty or more.
As Celia led me to the elevator, I noticed paintings of people I didn’t recognize. Their eyes seemed to follow us, and a shiver ran through me. Despite my success in convincing the people in Elsewhere that I was Lila, now that I was in her home, I was no longer confident. Something as simple as putting my shoes in the wrong place could give me away.
“Welcome home, Lila,” said a voice above us. Daxton leaned against the railing two stories up. “I’ve already checked with the staff, and they assure me your suite has been aired out and prepared for your arrival. Mother has scheduled you for a luncheon tomorrow for the grand opening of St. George Hospital. Celia, if you will, Mother requests you accompany her.”
“Of course,” said Celia. “Knox will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, so if you would also tell the staff to prepare his room, I would be much obliged.”
“Already done,” said Daxton. “On that note, that little problem we discussed earlier, Lila—Knox will help you with it.”
I gave Knox a puzzled look, and he bent down to whisper in my ear, “He wants me to teach you to read.”
“Oh.” How had he found out so quickly? I shoved my hands in my pockets and nodded up toward Daxton. Good luck with that one.
Lila’s rooms were on the fourth floor, across from Celia’s. Along with a guest room Knox would be using, they took up an entire wing of the mansion. Lila’s suite alone included a sitting room, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen nook, and worst of all, a door that led into an empty room.
“Your future nursery,” said Celia. “For after you’re married.”
I made a face. Terrific.
Everything from her bedspread to the sofa to the rug laid out in front of a gigantic fireplace was made of white furs—fake, Celia informed me, but I couldn’t tell the difference. I took my
boots off, and the hardwood floor was cool against my bare feet. The windows were wide and faced the sunset, and in the distance I could see the buildings that made up the wealthy downtown area.
The bathrooms were decorated with swirling marble floors and counters, and they were full of soaps that smelled like flowers and fruits and things I couldn’t name. I explored the suite under the guise of making sure everything was in place, and once I was done, I collapsed on the sofa and ran my hand over the fur.
“Get some rest,” said Celia, standing in the doorway. Knox lurked behind her. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”
With one final warning look, Celia shooed the servants away and closed the door behind her, leaving me alone in Lila’s suite.
No matter how lavish it was, I was standing in the middle of my prison cell. I’d noticed locks on the door coming in, and the only window that opened was the small one in the bathroom. Even if I could squeeze through it, I was several stories up, and dropping from that height would mean broken bones at the very least, if not a painful death.
Looking up at the ceiling, I noticed the opening to a vent in the corner. It wasn’t very big, but with some squirming, I might fit. I pushed an end table underneath it and climbed. Using the bookcase beside it as another step, I managed to move the grate aside and get a good grip.
My muscles strained as I pulled myself up and tried not to tip the bookcase over. Finally I made it into the vent, which was made of plastic and surprisingly clean. More important, it extended past Lila’s suite in either direction.
It was a tight squeeze, but no different from shimmying through sewer openings. Easier, even, because unlike the concrete, which rubbed and cut my skin, the plastic didn’t hurt. The vent extended in front of me with no visible end, though that wasn’t saying much considering the only light came from the grates. With effort I wriggled through it until I reached the next one, and I peered through the thin slits.
