It’s from Mink?She couldn’t speak privately during our interrogation, and I don’t think she walked into that room expecting to slip me her keycard. There was a fifty-fifty chance the note would’veended up on one of our trays. She must’ve thought it was a gamble worth taking, since it wouldn’t mean anything to Dex or Atlanta.
It’s another set of instructions. The start of another path to walk. A new maze.
“I’m getting really tired of puzzles,” I whisper.
Jules huffs a quick breath, amused but not quite a laugh, his eyes warming a little as he glances at me. “I know the feeling.”
“A password, maybe? If there’s a door somewhere that doesn’t open for the keycard and needs a numeric code?”
Jules furrows his brow, inspecting the paper again, turning it over in his hands. “Even low-security passcodes have four numerals, not three. And this is the IA.”
“Maybe there’s more to it. She’s basically a spy, right? Maybe it’s in invisible ink or whatever.”
Jules glances at me, his lips twitching. “You watch too many movies, Mia.” But nevertheless, he holds the paper up to the fluorescent light, which does nothing but illuminate a translucent section of the paper stained by grease. Perhaps someone will see him do it on the camera, but it’s clearly just a piece of paper. No doubt they’ll think he had it in his pocket.
Then he flicks the LED on his wrist unit on, and tries holding the paper over the display. He sighs, and moves to turn it off again—and freezes as I seize his arm.
“Wait.” I move his other hand a little, then rotate his wrist so we can see the display. It reads 2:49 a.m. I can feel the muscle in his forearm contract as he sees it too. I don’t have to explain—we’ve been solving far more complex riddles for weeks, and he’s even better at it than I am.
“We don’t know it’s a time.”
“If it is, we have eleven minutes.”
Jules lowers his arm, keeping his voice to a whisper. “Until what? She comes riding to our rescue?”
I glance over at the two Undying, watching us like they can hear every word. A chilling thought flickers to life—maybe theycanhear every word. A human wouldn’t be able to, but the whole reason we’re here is because they’renothuman at all. Maybe they’re just pretending not to hear us for the sake of the cameras.
My gaze lifts to that pinhole in the corner, and then suddenly the meaning of Mink’s message clicks into place. “Jules—the reason we can’t just use the card she slipped us and walk out of here is because the second we go near that door, they’ll see us on the cameras and catch us again.”
“You think she’s telling us she’ll shut off the cameras then?” Jules doesn’t look over at the camera, though I see a muscle stand out in his neck with the effort of fighting that natural instinct. “It’s too risky. We’ve no idea that’s what she meant. And no idea if she actually means to help.”
“What’s our alternative?” I reach for his wrist again. 2:50 a.m. A part of me feels sick for what I’m about to say, especially because the likelihood of us even getting to Prague, much less getting into IA Headquarters, is so low it hurts. But I say it anyway. “You could see your father in just a couple days.”
Jules’s jaw clenches. He crumples up the paper and stuffs it into his pocket. Casually he gets to his feet, as if just stretching his legs, but I recognize the new sense of purpose there. He casts me a sidelong look. “That’s dirty pool, using my dad.”
“Do I ever play fair?”
Jules grins, and seeing his smile again is like feeling the sun on my face. He’s been through so much these past weeks, getting him to smile is a victory all its own.
Though we’ve got less than ten minutes left, the time seems to creep by with aching slowness. We’ve got no preparations to make, no gear to assemble or plans to finalize—our plan extends no further than “get through the door and reach the end of the corridor.” I can feel our fellow captives’ eyes following us as we move, stretching our legs and venting what nervous energy we can without raising suspicions. We want them to stay where they are—ifwe’re quick, we can swipe the card, get outside, and then lock them in behind us before they catch on.
Still, I’m at Jules’s side when his wrist unit reads 2:59 a.m., and I can’t help but join him in watching it, counting the seconds, and waiting.
3:00 a.m.
As one, we look up at the corner where the little black pinhole remains unchanged. There’s no convenient indicator light to turn off, no mechanical whirring down or telltale beep. If we’re wrong about Mink’s message—or about her intentions toward us—then half a dozen armed guards are going to be swarming down that corridor seconds after we open the door.
I slip the card from my pocket into my palm, and catch Jules’s eye. He checks his watch one more time, then nods at me. I swipe the card through as quietly as I can, heart pounding—either it won’t work, or it’s going to be a headlong rush to get through and lock the door again before the Undying have time for their freakish reflexes to kick in.
The door whooshes open, and Jules rushes us both through. My hand’s shaking as I reach back again, aiming for the card reader, and for a moment it looks like I’m about to miss it—and then the beep of a successful read sends the door slamming back into place.
Almost.
When the door stops in its track, Jules and I look up to find Atlanta and Dex in the doorway, Dex casually keeping the door open with one foot, Atlanta standing uncomfortably close, arms crossed, cold eyes unblinking as they fix on us.
I can’t think, pinned under that icy stare. My whole body freezes, and when Jules’s hand curls around my arm—for support, or comfort, I don’t know—I realize I’m shaking.
“Back away.” For a moment, I don’t recognize the speaker. Jules’s voice is hard, slick with fear and fury, and inch by inch, he’s moving between me and Atlanta. And in this moment, I don’t haveit in me to stop him. “They think you’re regular kids right now. Run with us, and they’lldefinitelylook at your DNA samples—the whole world will know you’re not humans like us, and you and your friends won’t be able to hide anymore.”
