Page 17

Alone in the South Wing, ducking out of the way of hunters on duty, I stole a glance at my phone from behind a dragon statue. Just one of its enormous, white marble legs was enough to shield me from any prying eyes.

Come on, Genie! My inbox had no new messages, though I’d texted and called my friend a handful of times since leaving my bedroom. Location updates, check-ins, that sort of thing. All I’d gotten in return was a Genie-less home screen and a voicemail recording. Now wasn’t the time for her to go radio silent on me. For all I knew, we could be covering the same ground without realizing, and it irked me that I couldn’t get through to her.

Taking my bag off my shoulders, I double-checked my inventory: three puzzle boxes, two Mason jars, and three little cartons of milk that I’d nabbed from the banquet hall. Something Genie said earlier had struck a curious nerve—I think it had been on bullet-point number two: leave out a cookie, and the creature will come running. But pixies didn’t like cookies, they liked milk. Maybe, just maybe, they’d take the bait. Meanwhile, Genie had two puzzle boxes and three Mason jars. As the magical one in our team, we’d figured she’d have better luck with the Mason jars than I would. And, Genie or no Genie, I planned to do better at catching something tonight.

Putting the bag back on, I waited until the nearest hunters passed by before darting out and sprinting down the hallway full pelt, on high alert for any sign of pixies. I raced past the bedrooms of visiting hunters, more studies, and private libraries for the invited guests to use at their leisure. I poked my head into the libraries, but they sat dark and empty, with no hint of a monster disturbance.

Eventually, having found an emergency stairwell between two studies and running all the way down into what appeared to be a basement, I breathed a much-needed sigh. There didn’t seem to be anyone down here. A long, stark corridor lay ahead, lit with unflattering strip lights that shone a cold blue hue on everything. A musty scent filled my nostrils, suggesting this part of the Institute didn’t get used often. That had to be a promising sign.

Listening for footsteps or wing flutters, I walked along the corridor, leaving footprints in the fine layer of grime that covered the plasticky floor. Black signs were pinned to the doorways that branched off the main hall: “boiler room,” “janitorial staff room,” “storage unit 1,” “storage unit 2,”and so on and so forth. I seemed to have found the utility underbelly of the Institute, which undoubtedly had a multitude of secluded spots for pixies to hide.

I tried some of the door handles, only to find them locked up tight—until I came to a door marked “Refuse.”It swung open with ease, the aroma of stagnant trash overwhelming my senses, sickly and rotten and foul. Pinching my nose to keep out the worst of it, I peered into the gloom… and my heart almost leapt out of my body. There in the corner, fighting over banana skins, a half-empty bag of candy, and what looked like the remains of someone’s fruit salad, was a small group of pixies. Five, to be exact.

Terrified they would bolt if they saw me, I used their intense argument to my advantage and I tiptoed off to the side, ducking behind a dumpster. I could hear their high-pitched chatter from where I was, and it didn’t sound friendly. Who knew banana skins could be such a hot commodity?

Okay, quietly does it. Painfully slowly, I unzipped my bag and took out a puzzle box and the little carton of milk. I placed the puzzle box on the ground and kept the lid firmly on, twisting it until the designs aligned. Still moving at a snail’s pace so I wouldn’t startle the pixies, I peered around the corner of the dumpster and set the puzzle box just in front of it. My fingertip hovered over the harp button for a second before I pressed down. However, another button, which looked like a bushel of leaves, caught my eye. I realized this wasn’t the time to get experimental, but something drew me toward it. An instinct, perhaps. Figuring I could use another box if I messed this one up, I pressed down on the symbol. Immediately, the puzzle box flattened out like a bear trap and the sea-green sides blended into the sticky vinyl floor, leaving it totally camouflaged.

I almost hissed in frustration. You could’ve told me about that, Naomi! Still, I had to admit, this was insanely smart and cool. All I had left to do was lay the bait.

Popping the carton open, I placed the milk in the center of the hidden box—at least, what I hoped was the center. That was the trouble with a successful camouflage. Part of me feared the milk carton would set off the trap, and all I’d get for my efforts was captured dairy. But the box stayed open, still invisible to the naked eye.

Now what? Do I just wait? I sat back against the dumpster and took out a mirror, angling it so I could see approaching pixies. Nerves pummeled through my chest, my heart racing a mile a minute. If they didn’t take the bait, they might escape, and I’d be back at square one. Basically, this had to work, or I’d start flipping dumpsters.

Sing, my Persephone… A voice slithered into my head, one I knew so very well.

What are you doing here?” I asked, my chest hot and horrified. He was an ocean away—he wasn’t supposed to be able to come near my mind.

Sing… he said again. But it didn’t feel the same as when Leviathan had spoken to me on my birthday. It sounded far away, like I’d dredged it up from the darkest corner of my mind. Even so, the violation wasn’t dissimilar. The idea that he’d embedded these words in me, somehow, made me want to pour mosquitoes into his glass box.

And what did he mean, sing? If he’d ever heard me at karaoke, he’d wish he’d never mentioned it. For me, singing was relegated to the shower, where I could have a private concert without anyone thinking someone was dying. And yet, the moment the thought involuntarily crept into my head, a tune began to form on my tongue. A song I didn’t recognize, in a language I didn’t understand, but my mind seemed to know every word.

“Thig a-mach às an dorchadas. Mo chlann, mo chlann. èist ri mo ghuth mar a bhios mi a ’seinn do chridhe. Bu chòir dhut a bhith còmhla rium. Dannsa còmhla rium ann an solas na gealaich agus a ’faireachdainn gàirdeachas. Is e mo chridhe do chridhe. Tha sinn mar an ceudna. Tha ar spioradan ceangailte. Mo chlann, mo chlann. èist ri mo ghuth mar a bhios mi a ’seinn do chridhe. Bheir mi dhut mo ghràdh. Lorg comhfhurtachd. Tha thu sàbhailte a-nis.”

My voice rose, clear and sweet, as though my lungs and voice box had been taken over by a cosmic force. It sounded ancient and sad, as though it wasn’t supposed to be heard by human ears. Strange tears welled in my eyes as I repeated the phrase, and a memory came back to me. The song, I realized, was similar to a lullaby I’d heard Tobe sing to a box of faeries when I was a child (and shouldn’t have been eavesdropping).

The pixies stopped chattering. Lifting the mirror up, I saw them creeping toward my dumpster in the reflection. They gave me such a fright that I almost stopped singing, but my voice held on, ringing out with that mesmerizing sadness.

Edging closer, they spotted the milk and unleashed a collective “Oooooh.” I wasn’t even sure I needed the song anymore, but I carried on regardless. As I started the third repetition, all five pixies eagerly pounced onto the carton, apparently entranced. One had just stuck its hand down the opening to scoop up a handful of the white stuff when the box snapped shut around the quintet and the lid sprung closed, locking them inside.

“Chaos, YES!” I lunged for the box and twisted the designs out of sync. Muffled yelps and squeals babbled inside the box for a second, and then… silence. I held it up to the light to observe my victory. Wispy threads of black smoke puffed out of the lid and the designs glowed brightly—a subtle confirmation that I’d freaking done it!

“I’m sorry, but I promise it won’t be for long,” I whispered to the inmates. “I just need to figure out what to do with you. We might have to hide you in an orb for a bit, but only until we can come up with something better. Okay?”

The pixies didn’t reply. After all, the box had turned them back into black mist. But I was definitely going to chalk this up as a victory. I’d gotten ahead of the hunters and caught five pixies of my own accord—six, if you counted my first. It comforted me to think I might be able to save some of my creations. I didn’t know how, just yet, but I’d find a way. But, first, I had to get them to a safe place so I could ask them what they knew about Xanthippe and Randolph. I hoped they’d tell me in exchange for their freedom.

Feeling on top of the world, I slipped the box into the front pocket of my bag and took off down the hall. I hadn’t gone more than a few yards when my bubble of elation was popped by a hunter-shaped needle. A trio of them, not far ahead. I froze, they froze. The only way out was up the stairwell they were blocking. I could lock myself in the refuse room, but they’d either batter it down or wait until I came out.

“What are you doing down here?” barked a tall guy in the customary black suit. “No one is allowed to be out without permission.”

I gulped. “I just wanted to drop off some cardboard boxes.”

“Nice try.” A glowering woman with white-blonde hair folded her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you tell us what’s in the bag?”

“It’s nothing,” I replied, a beat too fast. “Books and stuff.”

Their third colleague—a huge woman, built like a bull—stepped forward. “Hand over the bag. If it’s nothing, we’ll find nothing.”

My legs urged me to run. Perhaps I’d find another stairwell at the opposite end of the hallway. Before I could move a muscle, the guy called out, “And don’t even think about scampering off. Only the guilty run.”

I’m guilty in your eyes. For the first time ever, I wished a Purge would pour out of my mouth then and there—a big one. Something that would keep them occupied while I made a hasty exit. But I had no sweats, no nausea, no nothing.

“I’m not guilty, but I don’t see why I should give you my personal things.” I swallowed the tremble in my voice.

“Because we asked,” the bull-woman grumbled, striding toward me. As hunters went, these ones were really freaking threatening. Her colleagues followed her, and they were on me before I could even contemplate hurtling through the refuse-room door.

The smaller woman yanked the bag off my shoulders while the bull-woman wrenched my arms behind my back. Pain splintered through my bones, my face contorting. I wondered if Victoria was okay with this sort of violence. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? Though that wouldn’t have helped me much. In two seconds, they’d see all the evidence they wanted.

“Are these… puzzle boxes?” The guy plucked out the one with the pixies inside. “How come it’s glowing? Did you catch something?”

The other woman sifted through my bag. “She’s got three of them, Gerry. And two Mason jars.”

“Dearie me, looks like you weren’t just getting rid of cardboard boxes.” The man glared at me. “And you’re not authorized to use this stuff. Did you steal it?”

I said nothing, not wanting to implicate Naomi.

He surveyed me for a moment, then said, “You look like a troublemaker.”

The platinum-blonde whispered in his ear. “That’s Persie Merlin-Crowley.”

“Is that so?” The guy’s expression changed in a split second. “You’re the one who caused all this in the first place, aren’t you? From what I hear, you might just be the mastermind, making these things do your bidding.” He smirked at his colleagues. “Apparently, some student saw her chatting to a pixie. Stinks of deceit to me.”

“What?! Who said that? That isn’t true! I was just trying to help!” I gasped. “I wanted to clear up my mess, I’m not masterminding anything.”

He sneered. “Or you wanted to save your little aberrations, so they can keep doing your dirty work.” He glanced at the box, seeing something in the faintly glowing lights that Naomi clearly hadn’t taught us about yet. “Being able to control them would certainly explain how a beginner like you managed to catch five of these.”

“They’re not aberrations!” I blurted out, instantly regretting it. Evidently, the glow from the box told him how many monsters were inside.

“Aww, how cute.” The man laughed coldly.

Flustered, I tried to form the right words. “And I’m not making them do anything. I don’t control them, which should be freaking obvious since they’re evading me as much as they’re evading you! I used knowledge to catch these, not some ability. Oh, and for the last freaking time, they’re not responsible for the disappearances!”

I’d say it until I was blue in the face, or someone listened—whichever came first. And this group definitely wasn’t listening.

“Agnes, get her in Cuffs,” the blonde instructed. “We’re taking you back to your room, and we’re going to make sure you stay there this time, until Victoria decides what to do with you.”

Panic fluttered in my chest as cold metal closed around my wrists. A weird prickly sensation followed, like static electricity—not painful or sapping, just odd, similar to the way it felt when I got too close to Genie in full Verso mode. Magic of some kind, though I could only feel the slightest hint of it. I guessed these weren’t ordinary Cuffs, though slapping a pair of Atomic Cuffs on me seemed like overkill. I wondered if Atomic Cuffs would be able to stop a Purge, if I could make one come? Having felt the force of my previous Purges, I highly doubted it.

Ignoring my pleas, the huge woman and her fellow hunters marched me down the utility corridor and back up the stairs, all the way to my bedroom. I wondered if these were the same hunters who’d been stationed in my hallway to keep an eye on my Purges.

I was shoved inside and pushed onto a chair while they set about laying charms and hexes to prevent me from leaving. It took all of ten minutes, but it felt like forever. Finally, with scowls that could’ve curdled the pixies’ milk, they unlocked the Cuffs and stormed out. These hunters weren’t playing around. They had orders to follow, and I’d made the mistake of crossing their path.

Now I had no way to search for the pixies, and they’d taken the five that I’d already captured. I wasn’t just back at square one, I wasn’t even at the starting line anymore.