The Leveller - Julia Durango Page 0,47

kill her” if she is captured.

10. Kora disappears, possibly dead.

11. Wyn Salvador and I truly and very thoroughly make out before falling asleep.

The last two puzzle piece make me feel a little ill.

We—I—may have accidently caused someone’s death, so I used the opportunity to hook up with a guy I hardly know?

Seriously? What is wrong with me?

I try to remember what Wyn has said to me over and over: that it’s not my fault, that I was just trying to save him, save myself, and Kora could have been bluffing. She was our last chance of finding a way out of here. We couldn’t afford to let her go. And even if someone did hurt her—kill her even—it wasn’t me.

But who was it? Who was she truly working for? The Legionnaires? Chang and Moose talk about LEGION all the time. As far as I know, it’s just a bunch of kids like Chang who spend way too much time playing online games, sharing data, and grumbling about Diego Salvador’s monopoly on MEEP technology. Sure they might consider Salvador an enemy, but they wouldn’t have the means to actually kidnap Wyn and blackmail his father. It makes much more sense to assume that Kora was working for some big tech firm or even a foreign government trying to get their hands on MEEP secrets—the kind of people who have the power and money to buy Kora’s cooperation.

My next thought sends a chill down my spine. If those same people killed off Kora for blowing the operation, what’s to keep them from doing the same to me if I get in their way? They don’t need me; they need Wyn, and they need him to stay inside the MEEP.

Had Kora been on the Salvador estate when she was killed? I shiver at the thought.

I picture my body back in Wyn’s room. I’ve been gone almost forty-eight hours and I must look the same as the Wyn I saw two days ago—my body attached to monitors and IV fluids, completely vulnerable to anyone who might wish me harm.

I shiver. Then I remember Dad sitting by my side, keeping vigil with Mama Beti. Those two will keep us safe. Heck, my dad would take on dragons before he’d let anyone harm me, and I’m pretty sure that on behalf of her beloved grandson Mama Beti could do some damage with that metal walker of hers.

The thought almost makes me smile.

Beside me Wyn stirs and murmurs something in his sleep. After a moment he begins to rustle, as if agitated, though his eyes remain closed. He continues to speak, but the words are slurred and I can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s having a nightmare, I can tell, and I can’t decide whether I should leave him be or wake him up. When he cries out, as if in fright, I can stand it no longer.

“Wyn, wake up,” I say, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “Wake up, you’re having a bad dream.”

His eyes open slowly, and I can still see fear there. As he stares as me, the fear begins to dissipate and relief washes over him. “Nixy,” he whispers.

I reach over and lay a hand on his cheek, just like my mom used to do when I had bad dreams. “It’s over now,” I say.

“I dreamed we were being buried alive,” he says, sitting up in the recliner. “We were trapped in a deep pit and there were people above us—shadows, really—shoveling dirt on top of us. It was awful.”

“That does sound awful,” I agree, and my body shudders a bit. I don’t say aloud what I’m thinking: Wyn’s subconscious has painted a pretty accurate picture of our predicament. Gruesome, but accurate.

“All I could hear was Kora’s voice saying black every time a new shovelful of dirt fell,” says Wyn.

“That was a pretty dramatic last word,” I say, remembering Kora’s frightened face before she disappeared.

Wyn looks out at the city lights, his brow knitted in concentration. He sits up suddenly. “Nixy, what was the last thing you said to Kora, before she said black,” he asked, grabbing my arm, his voice now urgent.

I close my eyes and try to remember. “The portal,” I say. “I asked her where they’d hid the portal.”

It hits us both at the same time. Maybe Kora wasn’t describing death with her last word. Maybe she was giving us a clue.

Wyn hops off the recliner, pulling me up with him.

“Come on,” he says. “Over the river and through