The Cage (The Cage 1)

He touched the knife hilt. “You thought you could harm me with this, but it is not a weapon.” He pulled it out, a thin strip of metal that ended in a needle as long as her forearm. It dripped with something that looked like blood, but darker than a human’s. “It allows me, and anything I am touching, to dematerialize. Now take my hand.”

She shook her head.

“I thought it was a dream.” Memories of his beautiful face stumbled into her head. “But it wasn’t. It was real. I remember your face because you were the one who took me, didn’t you?”

“I must return you to your habitat.”

He reached for her. She jerked back, skirting the room. Her eyes searched for any possible exits but found nothing. The light was bolder on the far wall, beneath what looked like a pulsing blue cube; starry light poured through wall seams that were shaped like a rectangle and tall enough for a person to pass.

Was that a door?

Don’t fight back. Don’t try to escape.

But this wasn’t a man she was going to be able to reason with. This wasn’t a guard at Bay Pines who could be bribed or flirted with. Wherever they were, the police weren’t going to find them. The only thing left was escape.

“You cannot escape,” he answered.

She whirled. Had he read her thoughts—or just seen the intention on her face? Either way, she forced her chin high.

“I can try.”

She shoved off from the wall and dove toward the doorway, just as he lurched toward her. She braced to feel his superhuman grip on her arm, but a burst of static came from the communication device on his wrist. It distracted him long enough for her to dig her fingers into the glowing door seams and pull until her muscles screamed, but nothing happened.

Abruptly, the door slid open on its own.

She fell through and slammed onto a hard metallic floor on the other side. Four sets of perfectly polished black boots stood in front of her, attached to bodies that, when she dared to look up, showed four sets of black eyes. Kindred. Just like the Caretaker. They were all between six and seven feet tall. All with skin that shimmered like metal, ranging from dark bronze to ruddy copper, and dressed in cerulean uniforms with knots along the left side—three had six knots, one had seven. Two had a slimmer build, with glossy black hair tugged back in stiff knots and uniforms tailored to their curves. Females.

None of them had the Caretaker’s knifelike apparatus strapped to them, but they all wore some form of equipment slung around their hips. It spanned their thighs and looked like the protective wear an athlete might wear, but it was covered in flat buttons. When one of the female’s black-tipped fingers pressed against the buttons, Cora realized they were keypads. Computers, maybe?

The four Kindred stood in front of a metal table that bore a body, laid flat as though sleeping, long dark hair still stained with salt. On the body’s chin, a scar shaped like a lopsided heart.

Cora recognized the dead girl and screamed.

Powerful hands grabbed her from behind and lifted her to her feet. The Caretaker let her go, and she braced herself against the wall, head spinning. “What are you doing to her?”

The Caretaker’s wrist communicator buzzed incessantly, but he ignored it. “They are examining Girl Three’s body, as per protocol. They are researchers who are here to monitor your safety and record data about your interactions.”

“She’s dead! What do you need to monitor?”

The Caretaker’s black eyes slid to the others. “Every time a ward dies, we take the opportunity to examine the body, to record any changes in your species’ physical evolution.”

“Evolution happens over aeons. You can’t track it with one person.”

“Your limited mind cannot understand our advanced technology, nor the finer points of evolutionary theory.”

There was an ominous ring to his words. The girl with the heart-shaped scar was naked now, no more white sundress; and from what Cora could see, she didn’t have webbed fingers or extra toes or anything evolutionarily advanced. She was just a girl, like Cora. It hadn’t been that long ago that Cora and Lucky had dragged her out of the water.

“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.