ROGER

T H I R T Y - O N E

I thought guns would be pointed at my face when I ran upstairs, but it was empty. Dark. Unlike the lobby, the floors were bright and cleaned; fresh plants were placed in the hall. I couldn't help but feel welcomed instead. Like I'd walk into the Polk's office and fall into open arms and peaceful words.

It'd be nice if it were true, but I wasn't easily fooled. Unlike the others under Zara's control, I wasn't a Code, or a successful Host. Like Roger, I slid under the radar.

Polk's office doors were opened when I turned down the hall. Two Hosts stood at the doors, assault rifles in their hands. They looked at me with their bright eyes and matching white suits, and grinned, while I paused. My handgun alone was no match for what they had. And they knew it, too, and laughed about it.

"Clara Burrows." The Host on the left said my name. He was shorter than the other, with light hair that fell around his shoulders and caramel skin. He grinned when we locked eyes. "We've been waiting for you."

"Have you?"

"We have." The Host on the right moved his hand away from his rifle to ruffle the curls on top of his head. "Took you long enough."

I sucked on my bottom lip as I looked at their suits. They both had medals on their shoulders, like the one Matthews had worn in our first attempt. "How'd you know I was coming?"

The second Host laughed, dropping his hand from his hair to grab the handle of his weapon. "Stupid questions," he said. "Did you forget we have eyes everywhere?"

"No," I said, but gulped as my eyes shifted between the two of them. "I'm sure you do. There's got to be cameras everywhere. Streetlights. Etcetera."

"No." The first Host shook his head. "Ours were more live than that."

Live.

I could see into the office behind them. The desk was overturned, as though someone looked for something; the scattered papers had multiplied. The monitors were all on, bright, with numerical code on them. I expected to see Zara on one of them, but couldn't—maybe I was too far? I knew she had to be there.

I lifted my gun. "That's awesome," I said, taking a step forward. "I think I know what you mean?"

A laugh came from behind me. I didn't turn, fighting with my fear to keep my composure. There was no way I'd lose sight of two men holding rifles.

"Do you?" The voice behind me chuckled. "It wasn't so clear before, now, was it?"

"Bessel."

I didn't turn to look at him, not that I needed to. He walked beside me and passed me, standing a few feet in front of me with his head held high. There wasn't a shimmer in his eye, and I checked; I expected to see it. Yet, he noticed and laughed, then smoothed out the wrinkles of his suit before lifting his fingers to his left eye.

"I take back all the things I'd ever said about you." He pinched the white space, slowly peeling off the lens that covered the entire eye. Like lifting a curtain, he exposed a light; blue like the others, bright and abnormal. "You are a smart girl."

My stomach flipped uncomfortably.

"Your team wasn't the only one with geniuses, you see." He flicked the contact into a plant at his side. "Your Erica was good, but not as good as mine. See, we hadn't planned on coming this far, but Miss Clara Burrows—the only human to slip through the cracks—paved the way for us. Douglas was in such dire need for help, how could we resist? It's easy to fake scars over devices that'd never been removed; cover eyes that are a bit unnatural. We responded to the call and viola—Douglas hadn't the slightest idea."