Oblivion

  Blaise's sister is in the channels? I thought Blaise's sister was dead?

  A troubled sensation washes over me as a few pieces of the puzzle connect.

  This place isn't some weird place Blaise is trapped in. This is from his past. How did I get here? And from the present, because that's the only way the number on my wrist could exist.

  Am I accessing Blaise's memories somehow?

  "Are you or aren't you going to help us?" Blaise presses with urgency.

  I don't know what to do, what the correct answer is, what exactly happened in this memory. So, I'm left making my own choice.

  "I'm from the channels," I admit. "But I'm not quite sure where the location is."

  Hope flashes in his eyes. "If I showed you a map, would you recognize it?"

  "I'm not very good with maps," I say, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. "But I can try if you want me to."

  Blaise nods then turns to Zander. "Think you can sneak us into the library?"

  Zander rolls his eyes. "Do you even have to ask?"

  Blaise practically bounces with excitement. "Then let's go before the meeting gets out and Fredrick comes looking for us."

  Zander walks to the back of the room, pushes open the swinging doors, and lifts his chin, signaling for me to follow.

  I free an anxious breath before trailing behind him with Blaise at my heels. When I reach the door, Zander steps to the side and gestures for me to go in. I hesitantly cross the threshold and step into a slender hallway lined with rusted doors, all of which are shut and deadbolted from the outside.

  I gulp, worried what could possibly be locked in there. Monsters? Something evil? Or is this place like the channels and locks up the innocent?

  Feeble cries and pleas drift through the small, square windows of each door as I proceed down the hallway with Blaise and Zander by my sides. The dirt ground is chilled against my bare feet, and the arctic temperature sends me into a fit of shivers.

  "They're Fredrick's prisoners," Zander announces when he notices me glancing at the doors. "For the most part, Blaise and I try to free the people he captures, but there are some people who deserve to be locked up."

  "Like criminals?" Water drips from the ceiling and splatters across my forehead. I reach up to wipe them away, but Blaise beats me to the punch.

  "You know, you do seem sort of familiar," he states as he drags his thumb up the center of my forehead, wiping the water away.

  "That's because I wasn't lying about us knowing each other." I stare at him, mesmerized by how easily he touched me.

  He seems to suddenly notice this, too, and hastily jerks back. "I'm sorry ... I usually don't do that kind of stuff."

  "Touch people's foreheads?" I ask as water drips between my eyes.

  Blaise faces forward with his jaw set tight. "Touch people in general."

  "Oh." What I would give to tell him that eventually he'll get better with that, at least enough to kiss me. That declaration would probably freak him out.

  "You still haven't told me where you met me," he says without making eye contact.

  "We crossed paths in the fault once," I say since I know Blaise has been there before.

  "Really?" He gives me a dubious look. "You've been in the fault?"

  I tug at the bottom of my shirt, feeling self-conscious. "Why is that so hard to believe?"

  "You just seem ... I don't know"--he runs his hand over the top of his head--"fragile."

  "I'm not as fragile as I look," I admit softly.

  He nods, as if understanding. "I fully believe it."

  Shock courses through me. "You do?"

  He nods. "If you escaped the channels, you have to be strong."

  "Well, I had help."

  "From who?"

  "Um ..." I scratch the corner of my eye. "From these guys."

  He stops in front of a red door at the end of the hallway, his forehead furrowing. "Where were these guys from?"

  I don't know if I should tell him. According to what I was told by Ryder, Blaise has lived at Leviter Station since he was younger. So, if this is a memory, he'll know about the station and who Ryder and Reece are.

  "I don't know," I lie, stopping beside Blaise. "Some guys just showed up at my cell one day and helped me escape."

  "And then just left you?" Blaise asks as Zander unlocks the deadbolt of the red door.

  The crying and screaming and pleas grow louder.

  "Help me!"

  "Don't leave me!"

  "Free me!"

  "I don't want to die!"

  "Please, miss, I have a family!"

  Memories of being locked up in my cell attack me at every angle. I want to throw my hands over my ears, block the voices out. No, what I want to do is help every single one of them. If only I knew why they were locked up.

  What is this place?

  "Um, sort of." I hate the untrue words that keep leaving my tongue, but I don't know what else to do. Explain to him what's going on. Hope he doesn't pull his gun out on me again. Or worse, lock me up behind one of these doors.

  "Well, that's awful." The gadgets on Zander's wrist begin to rotate as he grabs the door handle. Then his wrist kinks as he drags the door open, the gadgets rotating every step of the way.

  I start to question if perhaps, like Blaise, Zander is a Forbidden, too; if the metal on his wrist is actually his wrist, and the gadgets and springs allow him to move.

  "Never seen a Forbidden before, have you?" Zander remarks when he notes the direction of my gaze.

  "No, I have once." I chew on my thumbnail, looking between Blaise and Zander. "I've just never seen a wrist move that way before."

  Grinning, Zander elevates his arm, drags his sleeve down, and begins bending his wrist back and forth. The gadgets spin and the springs squeak with every robotic movement.

  "It's better than a real wrist." He grins proudly then glances at Blaise. "Although, this one over here will probably disagree with me. He thinks the metal structure is more of a flaw than a gift."

  "That's because it is." Blaise steps toward the door, his expression hardening.

  "That's a matter of opinion." Zander rolls his sleeve down, lowers his arm to his side, and turns toward me. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret about us Forbidden."

  "Okay." I glance at Blaise, who's wandering away from us, then back at Zander. "What is it?"

  "It's a lovely secret," he teases, as if purposefully being vague.

  I fight back a smile, unsure whether the reaction is appropriate. "Are you going to tell me?"

  "I don't know." He thrums his finger against his bottom lip. "It might be better to just let you guess."

  "I'm not very good at guessing," I admit. "It could take forever, and then Blaise will probably get upset."

  Zander smiles cleverly, pointing a finger at me. "You're observant."

  No, I just know Blaise better than you think. "Yeah, I guess."

  "No guessing," he jokingly scolds. "You are, and you should be proud of that."

  I feel like the biggest liar ever. "Are you going to tell me your secret?"

  His smile illuminates his face. "All right, but only because you begged."

  "I did?"

  "Well, technically you didn't, but I'm going to pretend you did."

  A smile breaks through. I don't even know where it stems from, other than Zander's smile feels contagious. In a way, he kind of reminds me of Ryder.

  Glancing from left to right, Zander leans in until his face is only inches from mine. "My secret is how to win the heart of a Forbidden."

  I part my lips to ask him why I need to know that, but he raises his hand, shushing me.

  "Now, I know what you're thinking. Why on earth would I ever want to win the heart of what some see as an abomination? But let me tell you, us Forbiddens aren't as awful as some like to believe."

  "I don't think you're awful," I tell him. "Not at all."

  "And that's why I'm telling you this secret," he says with a grin. "Bec
ause I have a feeling that one day you're going to own the heart of a Forbidden."

  "Okay ..." This conversation suddenly feels strangely familiar.

  "Are you ready?" he asks.

  I nod. "Yeah, I think so."

  He rubs his hands together. "Okay, so there are a couple of things you must do to really get a Forbidden to fall for you. Because, let's face it, our steel hearts are quite cold." He winks at me. "No pun intended."

  I smile, but confusion fogs my mind.

  "So, the first thing is to let them rescue you. Perhaps once or twice, because we love playing the hero. Although, some of us might not admit that." He casts a fleeting look over his shoulder at Blaise, who's glaring at us with impatience, then returns his focus back to me. "And the second is to never be afraid of them. I know we might seem really scary, especially when we have our scary faces on, but deep down, we're just as afraid as you."

  "I don't think you're scary," I say, wiping off a water droplet rolling down my cheek.

  Zander gives a subtle nod in Blaise's direction. "What about that one over there?"

  I bite back a smile, remembering the first time I met Blaise. For a split second, he frightened me, but then I realized he was as scared of me as I was of him, and then I just became fascinated. "No, not at all."

  He chuckles. "Well, you might be the first."

  "Oh, my God, will you get in here?" Blaise interrupts with a shake of his head. "I'd like to get this taken care of before Fredrick returns and our cover is blown."

  Cover is blown? Blaise is working undercover?

  Zander holds up his hand at Blaise, his gaze fixed on me. "And third is to not call us Forbiddens."

  "But you call yourself Forbiddens?" I point out, feeling lost.

  "Yes, but we're all hypocrites," he says amusedly. "We like to shame ourselves, but secretly, we wish for people to see us as much more than an abomination."

  I nod, sort of understanding where he's coming from. "So, what should I call you?"

  His eyes light up like firecrackers. "Greystelies."

  Chapter 13

  Poppy's Wonderful Poison

  My eyes are huge as I stare at Zander in shock. "I should call them what?"

  "Greystelie," he says a little slower. "I know the word is a little weird, but I assure you that we like it better than Forbidden. Greystelie is our word, while Forbidden was created by the Grim to show us that man and machine aren't supposed to combine into one form."

  "Oh." I try to carry a neutral tone, but my perplexity shows.

  "You don't like the word?" he asks, starting to frown.

  I shake my head. "No ... That's not it." I sigh. "I just think I've heard it before." In my head, while I was in the Oblivion, right when the Orders first spoke of the Forbidden. I didn't know what the word meant at the time, but ... How do I know the word?

  "Really?" Surprise flashes across Zander's face. "That's strange."

  "Why?"

  "Because the word is rarely spoken."

  "I'm not even sure where I heard it from ... I might be getting it confused with something else."

  "Like Heystelie?" he jokes then sighs. "Sorry. I'm terrible at jokes."

  "Yes, you are." Blaise steps through the doorway, snags the back of Zander's vest, and tows him backward. "And you're great at procrastinating."

  "Yeah, yeah, if I had a trinket for every time you said that, I'd be an entire robot." Zander wiggles out of Blaise's grasp and offers me an apologetic smile. "We'll continue this conversation later, after we get Blaise's panties out of a bunch."

  Blaise rolls his eyes as Zander grins and wanders through the doorway. I start to follow, but Blaise sidesteps and blocks by path.

  "Wait a second ..." His eyes roam across my neck, shoulders, arms, waist, legs, and then return to my face, his gaze flittering from my eyes to my lips to my eyes.

  I instinctively bring my fingers to my mouth as images of Blaise and I standing in the street with our lips pressed together tickle the back of my mind. The kiss was brief, but I wonder how long it would've lasted if the time traveler hadn't interrupted us. Minutes? Hours? Or would I have lost control of my hunger and devoured Blaise to death ...?

  A thought registers out of nowhere. Can I even kill Blaise that way? Isn't that why he dared to kiss me?

  "That's funny ... I thought I ..." Blaise forcefully blinks his gaze off my lips, and then he hastily clears his throat. "Zander, come here for a second."

  Zander pokes his head out of the doorway. "What's up?"

  Blaise moves back and gestures at me, without saying anything.

  "Yeah, I know. She's lovely, right?" Zander tosses me a wink and a smile then looks back at Blaise. "Maybe we could take her back with us after we're all done here?"

  Blaise curtly shakes his head. "We can't take her to the station."

  "Why not?" Zander asks. "That's what the station's partly for--to take people in who need a home."

  "And how do we know she even needs a home?" Blaise gives me a hard stare, is if trying to scare me into confirming.

  "Um, I already have a home." Which technically is the truth. That is, if I ever get out of this place.

  "Now look what you've done." Zander scowls at Blaise. "You scared her so badly she's lying."

  "Is that true?" Blaise asks, his withering stare making me squirrelly. "Are you lying?"

  I shake my head, trying to appear more confident this time. "No, I'm not."

  "Well, I'll be damned," Zander says with a goofy grin on his face. "She's not afraid of you."

  Blaise seems torn on what to say next. "Well, she should be."

  "Well, she's not." Zander steps forward with his arm extended toward me. "Now come on, let's go to the library so you can show Blaise where the channels are and steal a little bit more of his heart."

  Blaise's jaw ticks as he shakes his head. "We can't go into the library." He shoots a pressing look at me. "Not with her dressed like that. They'll immediately know something's up."

  Zander takes in my outfit then nods. "You're completely right." He snags ahold of my hand.

  My instinct is to pull away, but before I get the chance, he's yanking me through the doorway and into a room made of all dirt except for the logs bordering the corners and roof.

  At the back of the room is a long, dirt tunnel that stretches to the unknown. Zander steers me toward it.

  "Where are you going?" Blaise hisses as he rushes after us.

  "To see Poppy," Zander says, staring straight ahead as he marches down the tunnel lit with torches.

  Blaise's footsteps thunder against the ground as he catches up. "You think you can trust Poppy with this?"

  "Of course." Zander shakes his head as he takes longer strides. "You never trust anyone."

  "And for a good reason," Blaise mumbles from behind me.

  I want to reach back and take his hand like I used to do, but even when Blaise knew me, he always tensed whenever our fingers entangled. This untrusting Blaise ... Well, I'm fairly positive he might break my hand if I touched him.

  We sink into silence as Zander leads us through the tunnel and into a room on the other side. Like the room we entered the tunnel through, this place is made of all dirt and log beams. Instead of being empty and plain, though, sheer curtains are strung about, glittering beads dangling from the ceiling, and tons of shirts, pants, dresses, and shorts hang from metal rods sticking out of the walls.

  When Zander releases my hand, I turn in a circle and look around. "Is this a closet?"

  "What's a closet?" Zander and Blaise ask in unison.

  I think of Blaise's list of words I know that he doesn't, but that probably doesn't apply here.

  "It's a tiny room attached to a bigger bedroom," I try to explain. "Where people keep clothes and shoes and stuff."

  "This is definitely a closet, then," Zander says, tracing his finger along the clothes as he wanders around. "I've never heard of the word before, though."

  "I come from a strange place," I
say absentmindedly.

  "Oh, yeah?" Zander faces me, his hand drifting to his side. "From where?"

  His question hits me hard. Where am I from? I really don't know. Somewhere? Everywhere? Anywhere?

  I struggle for an answer, a lie to give him, but my brain has shut down. Luckily, a tall, slender woman sweeps into the room and distracts everyone. Not just with her presence, but her appearance.

  Her chin-length blue hair is as bright as the sky, her teal eyes are lined heavily with maroon, and her glittery maroon lips match her bunched-up silky skirt. Her thigh-high, lace-up leather boots go in sync with her corset; black metal cuffs decorate her wrists and neck; and her skin sparkles everywhere.

  Pretty is the first word that pops into my mind. This woman is very pretty.

  "Zander, darling, how are you?" She greets Zander with a kiss on each cheek.

  Zander blushes sheepishly. "I'm great, Poppy. Just great. How are you?"

  "Just lovely." She strokes his cheek with the back of her hand, and Zander practically purrs, leaning into her touch. "You know, out of all my clients, you're my favorite."

  "I bet you say that to all of them," Zander retorts, a flush still creeping across his cheeks.

  Poppy smiles sweetly but the look vanishes as she turns to Blaise. "Blaise, how are you?"

  "Fine," Blaise bites out. "Or I will be if you keep your distance."

  I glance from a tense Poppy to a stiff Blaise, curious to know what's going on.

  "She poisons people's minds with her Witches Potion," Blaise explains to me tightly, as if reading my confusion. "Zander's a fan of the high. Me, not so much. That doesn't really matter to her."

  "I didn't realize you wouldn't like it," Poppy replies, sticking her nose in the air. "I've never had any complaints before."

  "That's because everyone's always too doped up to speak for themselves." Blaise sidesteps toward me and crosses his arms over his chest. "You will not use that shit on her, got it?"

  Poppy's eyes flitter from me to Blaise. "I never thought I'd see the day when you possessed such protectiveness."

  Blaise's brows bunch together. "I'm not."

  "If you say so." She turns toward me, rolling her eyes, but then plasters on a smile. "So, my dear, who are you?"

  "I'm Allura," I reply tentatively, the entire situation making me nervous.