I tell Ashton. “He’s with her. We can’t let anything happen to her.”
Sophia’s drug-induced words from earlier in the night come back to me, but I can’t quite untangle them. In my gut, I know she didn’t want to do whatever he’d trapped her into doing. Even if it was just helping him gain access to the event.
I take Ashton’s hand, and we head toward an entrance into the Court.
“Lana, wait,” Grant calls to me, catching up. “Let me help you find her.”
The Court has taken on a more menacing mood in the dark with lights flashing in one direction but misleading us down another. The map helps lead us away from the dead ends, but it can’t tell us where Sophia is. We rush through garden after garden, running down corridors, getting turned around in a hall of mirrors intended to disorient us. I want to scream and shatter them all.
“We need to get out of here,” I say desperately to Ashton, who’s examining the map, flipping it around to make better sense of it. But with our distorted reflections looking back at us, it’s impossible to know which way to go, even with the map.
Then I remember Arden’s map, the one she drew for me to help explain the Court. I search above the hedges and spot the branches of the tree in the center of the Court, sprouting toward the star-scattered sky. Standing beside Ashton, I inspect the map and turn it so we’re viewing it correctly.
“There. I think … we should go back toward the dorms. She said to find her in her room if we were looking.”
“Are you sure?” Grant asks, doubtful. “Why would Vic take her there?”
“He may not be with her,” I tell him. “She could just be a means to an end. But I need to be sure she’s safe.”
Before we can clear the mirrors, I hear Sophia’s voice and stop abruptly in my steps. Ashton’s head perks to the side, hearing her too. We hold our breaths, listening.
“She almost died!” Sophia cries, sounding hysterical. “That’s not what you said would happen.”
“I didn’t say anything about what would happen. But you did it. And I have the fingerprints to prove it.”
My eyes widen at the deep tenor of Vic’s voice. My heart is attempting to pound out of my chest. I want to rip through these hedges to reach them. To get Sophia away from his poisonous tongue.
“No, no, no,” Sophia pleads desperately. “I didn’t mean to. I only did what you asked.”
“Then keep your mouth shut. Besides, even if you did talk, no one’s going to believe an addict who’s so high most of the time she doesn’t even know her own name.”
“My name’s Sophia,” she snaps angrily, like she’s proving a point.
Vic laughs maniacally, like she’s proven his point.
Ashton is holding up the map, trying to determine the best route to get to them. She draws her finger from us to them—or at least where it sounds like they are. Grant and I nod.
“Here. It’s what you’re worth.”
I falter in my steps again, needing to hear what he says next. Ashton and Grant continue without realizing they’re leaving me behind.
“I want my life back!” she cries, her words strangled by sobs. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Choke on them, for all I care. We’re done.”
And then Vic walks through the framed mirror—or what I thought was a mirror—and appears right in front of me.
Neither one of us moves.
My surprise is mirrored in his frozen stance. And on his face … literally. He’s wearing a faceless silver mask, acting like the mirror he just walked through. I see my startled expression staring back at me, wide, dark eyes and quivering chin.
But that’s not who I am.
I set my jaw and narrow my eyes. Adrenaline takes the place of panic. I take a step and set my hands upon his shoulders, slamming my knee between his legs. He folds in half with a grunt of pain.
“You piece of shit,” I mutter, driving an elbow down between his shoulder blades.
Vic collapses to the ground.
I swing my leg … but fall onto my back, my breath leaving me in a forceful burst. I try to breathe in, but it’s like someone’s standing on my chest. The sound of voices sends Vic stumbling to his feet. He disappears back through the illusional mirror.
Fighting for my breath, I roll to my hands and knees.
“Omigod, are you okay?” a girl asks.
A hand reaches for my