Page 14 of Cage of Starlight
“Confirmed.” It elicits a chorus:Confirmed. Confirmed.“No additional tests required. Archive the sample and prep a compass.”
Tory wrenches his bound wrists, but the straps won’t budge.
“So youarea Worldseed.”
Tory twists toward Vantaras at the dry remark. “And you’re an asshole.”
The burn of satisfaction fades as fast as it comes. Vantaras’ eyes sharpen on him, and Tory clamps his teeth on the soft flesh of his cheek until the sting clears his head. That was foolish. It’s better if they think him docile.
A nurse clicks her tongue at him as she works at the straps. Another pulls the needle from his arm and secures a folded piece of gauze with white tape. The straps fall off one hand, then the other, and he’s ushered to his feet.
“Finished, Lieutenant.” The nurse doesn’t look at Vantaras, either, but at least he gets the honor of direct address.
Vantaras turns on a heel and strides out the door and down the hall.
“Next, you’ll receive a Core.” His pace increases with every step, until Tory has to jog to keep up.
His body protests the exertion, but if Vantaras notices, he doesn’t care.
If not for him, Tory would be free. Something ugly stirs inside him, clawed and sinuous, forged in flame. It’ll crawl up his throat if he opens his mouth.
Vantaras leads him to a door and knocks. When a voice calls for them to enter, he doesn’t go inside with Tory, just waits in the doorway with his arms crossed. The room is cast in silver and white, filled with strange tools.
A redhead in a white coat with sharp cheekbones hunches over a stack of notes, tapping a high heel on the floor. She could kill a man with whatever instruments she’s stabbed into her messy bun. Spinning on a cushioned stool, she glances at Tory over a pair of thin spectacles. Her gaze shifts to Vantaras, plum-painted lips curling to reveal an unsettling predatory smile.
“This our Channeler?” She pushes toward them with two quick steps.
Vantaras retreats, speaking to the wall behind her. “Here for a Core, Dr. Helner.”
Oh, how delightful. Sheintimidateshim. Tory can work with that.
“Good, good. This way. Time to put the shackles on.”
Tory isn’t sure he likes her tone, pleased and a little off-kilter. He follows anyway, shooting a glance back at Vantaras.
“On the table, Channeler. On your belly. I’ll secure your wrists here.” The woman gestures. “The procedure will be painless.”
“People keep saying that and strapping me to chairs.”
Dr. Helner bustles into a corner to open the lid of a small wooden box. Fog billows out, and she extracts a corked vial half-filled with muddy fluid. If it weren’t for the faint light pulsing out to illuminate the liquid, Tory would have said the vial contained the bulb and roots of a tiny plant.
“Ah, see, when I saidpainless, I meant it should not be excessively painful. The straps are for your and my safety. Reaching is harmlessas long as I mean it to be, but some Seeds may react adversely to our energies, injuring themselves or the Reacher.”
“Reacher?”
Her voice is terribly cheery. “You’ll see.”
The table angles upward, cushioned to raise his shoulders. There’s a hole for his face and strong, thick straps for his hands. More straps coil from the bottom for his ankles, his torso. He can’t tear his eyes from the vial.
The heat of anger in his belly vanishes, leaving a static-rush of cold. “What is that?”
“A Core. It’ll be your best friend for the rest of your life.”
Vantaras flinches in the doorway, lips thinning. “A Core is a . . . tracker, a personal identifier, and a precaution against escape.”
“Tracking?”
“A drop of the blood they took in Intake is being linked to a stellite compass. That compass will be engraved with your identifier code and matched to your Core. If you escape, they can be used to hunt you.”
