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There were obvious holes in my story, but Mama
B accepted them with a nod. After all, that’s how business was
handled — with vagueness and allusions. “And this dead owner, I
assume he’s one of the marked ones.” She pointed to her right
check, where Davlova’s nobles wore their tattoos.

“Yes.”

“And I somehow feel it all ties into your
surprising surety about Miguel Donato’s fate.”

I didn’t offer an answer. She didn’t seem to
mind.

She picked up a piece of cheese, weighing it
in her hand as if it were my answer and she could judge its worth.
After a moment, she set it back on the tray. I, on the other hand,
took another piece. It was better than the cheese served at my inn.
Not as good as the cheese Donato had served me, but still, there
was no reason to let it go to waste.

“I’d like to say I could help you with your
situation, but I don’t deal with the slavers. I have no connections
there, and to try would only draw unwanted attention to my other
enterprises.”

“I understand.”

“I’m going to grant you permission to work the
plaza,” she said. “For now. Assuming you don’t get
greedy.”

“I won’t.”

“But this is a limited-time offer. Let’s say,”
she wobbled her hand back and forth as she considered, “two weeks.
After that, I’ll ask for a percentage.”

“That’s more than fair. Thank you. If there’s
anything I can do in return…”

“There is.” She gestured to the cheese. “Help
yourself. Finish your drink.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Stay and chat for a bit.”

“If you like.”

“You lonely? I got girls.”

I laughed, sensing a trap, albeit a harmless
one. “I’m fine in that regard, thank you.”

“I got boys too, if you prefer.”

“How about you just tell me what you
want.”

She shrugged, looking almost sheepish. The
expression was oddly out of place on her wise, aging face. “It’s
simple really. When you get back home, let your boss know I treated
you well. Let her know she can count on me, if she needs anything
on our side of the water. I have lots of connections, both the
legitimate kind and the other. Tell her, Mama B’s on her side. That
something you can do?”

The simplicity of her request was surprised
me.

“I’d be happy to.”

***

Two days later, the wave of heat that had been
smothering Deliphine finally broke, shattered by lightning and the
rolling boom of thunder. Morning dawned with the monotonous patter
of rain. The skies hung low and heavy. Soon, the streets were
filled with water, washing waste and garbage toward the river and
the sea. For the first time since my arrival in Deliphine, it
smelled almost clean.

I emerged from the inn to find one of the
Dollhouse’s nameless thugs waiting for me with a
carriage.

“The mistress needs you. She said you’d want
to come. It’s about the boy.”

“Is he all right? Has something
happened?”

“She said to bring you.”

Distrust warred with my need to know about
Ayo, but only briefly. After all, I’d been waiting all week — and
that single week had felt like ages — for this missive. And I’d get
nowhere by questioning this man. I climbed into the waiting
carriage.

“She told me the drug wasn’t necessary,” the
man said, drawing the curtains closed to hide our route. “But only
as long as you cooperate.”

“I will.”

Because what else could I do? Any chance I had
of seeing Ayo again rested solely in the Dollhouse’s
hands.

I heard Gideon’s voice in my head.
Are you
so anxious to wake up with a chip in your head too?
That was a
possibility, I knew. But the only other option I had was running —
returning to Davlova without Ayo — and I wasn’t willing to do
that.

But I also intended to do everything I could
to gather any knowledge that might help me in the long run. The
curtains may have blocked my view of the city, but that didn’t make
me blind. I’d seen which way the carriage faced before we climbed
in. We immediately turned around, but the street only offered two
directions — east and west — so I knew we were heading away from
the ocean. I began counting in my head to mark the passage of time.
Anzhéla had chosen me to spy on Donato because I was good with
detail, and I had an excellent memory. I put them to use now,
concentrating on what I could hear and smell. The unmistakable
sounds of a blacksmith, the laughter of children, the ringing of
bells both near and far. The rain dampened smells, but I still
caught whiffs now and then. I committed every bit of it to
memory.

After nearly twenty minutes, we stopped, and I
exited into the same carriage house I’d been in before. I was led
up a flight of stairs. My heart raced and my mouth went dry. I
assumed I was being taken to the same stark room and interrogated
again. Maybe there was some shred of information the woman hadn’t
gleaned from me. Maybe I was about to be interrogated
again.

The goon opened a door, and I found myself in
a different place entirely.

The room itself was small. I guessed it was
meant to be a bedroom, but it was outfitted as more of a sitting
room. Heavy cream curtains hung on the far wall. I crossed the room
immediately and pulled them back, hoping for a glimpse outside —
for something that might help me pinpoint my location in the city —
but a single flat board covered the window, nailed all around the
edges so not even a sliver of light entered. I only knew it was
still raining by the gentle patter on the roof.

I turned back to the room. Plush rugs lay
across the floor. A narrow door occupied one corner. In the center
of the room, a small couch faced two armchairs, all upholstered in
soft green. It was an area designed for intimate conversation, but
there was nothing comfortable about it. Everything about it felt
forced and unnatural. Between the couch and the chairs sat a low
table with a marble base and a glass top. That surprised me enough
to bring me up short. I’d never seen a table made of anything but
wood, and this glass was smoother and more flawless than any glass
I’d ever seen, so perfectly clear that only the reflection of the
room’s electric lights across its surface betrayed its presence at
all.

“Thank you for coming.” I hadn’t heard the
woman enter, but suddenly she was there, so tall and slender, her
platinum hair coiled neatly behind her head. She wore a long,
beltless dress that only served to accentuate her height. Behind
her, the same thug who’d brought me waited at the door, his face
void of expression.

“I wasn’t aware I had a choice.”

“I apologize if my man did anything to mislead
you, Mr…” She stopped, as if taken aback. “It seems that in our
previous conversation, I failed to learn your surname.”

“Our ‘conversation’? You mean, when you
drugged me and then interrogated me?”

The corner of her mouth twitched, as if she
were fighting back a smile. “You make it sound so
dramatic.”

It had felt dramatic enough to me, but it was
a moot point. “I don’t have a surname.” Most street kids I knew
didn’t. “It’s just Misha.”

“Misha. You can call me Adele. I assume you’re
still interested in the boy.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Can I see
him?”

“We’ve learned all we can from this particular
unit—”

“His name is Ayo.”

“—
and since there’s nothing further
to be gained by holding him here, we’ve decided to release him to
you.”

My knees wobbled. I had to grab onto the back
of the loveseat to keep from falling. I blinked in confusion,
skeptical of her sudden goodwill. “You’re going to let us go?” I
asked. “Just like that?”

Her lips curved into the semblance of a smile,
although it did nothing to alleviate my doubts. She was crueler
than Donato, more intelligent than Anzhéla, more cunning than any
person I’d ever met after a lifetime in the trenches. “Just like
that.” She sank into one of the armchairs, coiling like a snake,
yet regal as any queen upon her throne. She was pure ice as she
gestured toward the couch. “Please, have a seat.”

“No need. If you’re really letting us go, I’d
prefer to leave now.”

“You’ll be returning to Davlova, I
assume?”

“As soon as I can.”

“Good. There are things we need to
discuss.”

“Like what?”

“Like the boy’s program. You want it altered,
I assume.”

“Not altered. Deactivated.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Please,” she said again. “Sit down so we can
discuss this like civilized people.”

“You intend to be civilized this time? Not
tying my hands or—”

“There’s no need to be hostile.”

“You’ve taken Ayo hostage—”

“He’s
our
property.”

“—
and you refuse to let me see him
or talk to him. You drug me, interrogate me, and then keep me
prisoner in this Goddess-forsaken city for nearly a week with no
word of what’s happened to him. And now you bring me here to tell
me that you refuse to deactivate his program, and I’m supposed to
pretend none of that ever happened and sit down for a nice little
chat.”

“I’m not your enemy.”

“That’s not how it seems to me.”

Her jaw tensed. Tiny as it was, that small
indication of her aggravation gave me satisfaction. She waved one
pale, long-fingered hand toward the man at the door. “Bring me a
drink,” she said. Then, to me, “Would you like one?”

I bit back the urge to scream at her. To claw
at her eyes and rip out her platinum blonde hair. To slam her face
into the glass table between us and smash her delicate features to
a bloody pulp. I said simply, “No.”

“This will take some time. You may as well
sit.”

“I want to see Ayo.”

“You will. But first, we must discuss the
terms of his release.”

“What terms? You said you were letting us
go.”

“We are, but—”

“What else is there to discuss? Deactivate his
implant, and we’ll be on our way.”

She sat forward in her seat, her eyes flashing
in anger. “Stop being so bloody confrontational and listen to me.
Right now, the boy’s chip has a program in place. Whether you like
it or not, it’s there, and it will stay there until we undo it. Do
you understand what that means? Even if I handed him over to you
right now, you wouldn’t make it a block before his current program
told him to come right back here.” She jabbed her slender finger
down onto the smooth glass of the tabletop to punctuate her point.
“You say you want everything we’ve ever done to him to be
deactivated? I’m telling you, that’s not possible. But I’ve brought
you here to discuss what
is
possible. Now, are you ready to
talk about that, or would you like to go back to your flea-ridden
room at the inn? Because I’m dangerously close to rescinding the
offer, and if that happens, all bets are off. Chances are, you’ll
never see the boy again, and he’ll wake up tomorrow morning not
even remembering you exist.”

Her tirade left her slightly out of breath,
but it had served its purpose. Arguing would get me nowhere. If I
wanted to see Ayo again, and to walk away from the Dollhouse
forever, my only option seemed to be to play along.

I sucked up my pride and stowed it away. It
wouldn’t serve me here. “I apologize,” I said, bowing slightly from
the waist. “Let’s discuss the terms of Ayo’s release.”

She put her pale fingers to her throat, as if
to tame her own pulse. As if she could re-freeze the blood in her
veins. The guard returned and silently placed a tall glass in front
of her. Heavy beads of condensation rolled down its side to land on
the smooth glass surface of the table.

“Please,” she said again, her composure only a
bit less than it had been before her outburst, “sit.”

I sank reluctantly onto the couch. It was
upholstered, and yet still stiff and unforgiving, the minty green
fabric abrasive against my fingers. It felt like poison against my
palms.

“Are you sure we can’t bring you
anything?”

“Besides Ayo?” Her eyes flashed, and I held up
my hands to appease her. “No. Thank you. But can I ask a
question?”

“Of course.”

“You’re releasing Ayo to me and allowing us to
return to Davlova?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you expect in return?”

She had the nerve to widen her eyes in feigned
surprise. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You said you wanted to discuss 'the terms of
Ayo's release.' I assume you're expecting something in exchange.
”

“Only that you take care of him, to the best
of your abilities.”

I didn't believe for one minute that she'd
suddenly begun to care about Ayo. There was something else going on
here. “You’ve made it quite clear that Ayo represents a significant
investment for you, but now you're simply turning him over to me
out of the goodness of your heart?”