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Lucas nudged her shoulder and pointed toward the craft. “Isn’t that your mother’s assistant, what’s his name?”

Grace peered out and saw Sam walking across the rooftop toward the craft. He was lugging a large black sack over his shoulder, which he tossed into the craft. Nothing about this situation looked right. In fact, it looked downright suspicious.

“Watchdog,” she whispered to herself.

Sam stepped inside the craft, and it lifted up off the roof and zipped away, disappearing into the black sky. Those things moved fast. She ran out from their hiding place and stared up, wondering what Sam was doing. If there was one thing she could trust, it was her instincts. At that moment, they were shouting that something was wrong.

“You okay?” Lucas stood next to her, looking up at the sky.

“Not sure.”

“What’s going on?” He tried to pull her closer to him, but she pulled away.

“I’ve gotta go. This has been, um, well, this has been a beautiful evening. You’re a wonderful first date.”

“Why are you leaving, then?” He looked as if someone had punctured his lungs.

“I just remembered something, and I need to find my mother.” She ran barefoot across the rooftop to the transporter before Lucas had a chance to say anything.

She took the transporter to the lab, where she burst inside, praying to find her mother situated by a monitor or attached to the mainframe. The lights switched on and she was surrounded by hundreds of servers, their red and orange lights blinking.

“Mom!” she yelled, running up and down the aisles.

The place was empty. She rummaged around the lab, searching for anything that might point her in the right direction. The only thing she found was one of the old journals tucked in the back of Sam’s desk drawer. There was a bookmark between the pages about Morray’s son, Phoenix. She remembered seeing him with the journal before. Why was Sam reading the journals? He had said for research, but she didn’t believe him. Where was her mother?

She had to keep looking. She went to her mother’s room and pounded on the door, but no answer. She chimed her repeatedly, but nothing.

The gala event was still going on. Grace thought maybe she went down to celebrate with everyone. She jumped another transporter back to the courtyard and ran through the atrium, brushing by the cadets who were chatting and telling horror stories about their exams. She checked behind the trees and down every path, desperation growing by the second. Turning down one of the pathways, she hurtled right into Blythe. She almost didn’t recognize her because of the slinky black dress and her pulled-back long dark hair. Blythe was actually striking when she wasn’t scowling.

“Slow down, Grunt. What’s the rush?” Blythe stretched out her arms to block the path. Typical Blythe.

“Move it.” Grace tried to shove her, but the statue wouldn’t budge.

“Seriously, what’s goin’ on?”

“What the hell do you care?”

“Honestly, I’ve never seen you so freaked out. We’re team members now; can’t have you bringing down our house.”

Grace knew she’d never hear the end of it, but urgent desperation had taken over by that point. “Fine, you wanna know? I can’t find my mother.” She tried to regain some composure. “You can laugh at me all you want, but I think she’s in trouble,” she added.

“What do you mean?” Blythe asked, appearing genuinely concerned.

“I saw Sam throwing a big black bag into a hovercraft and flying off somewhere. Something didn’t seem right. First of all, a hovercraft? And second of all, why would Sam be getting into it—with a giant human-sized bag?”

“You think your mother was in the bag?”

“I checked the lab and her room—everywhere—but she’s nowhere.”

Blythe looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You have access to the lab?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom’s still got her old chip technology installed, right?”

Grace nodded.

“Take me to the lab. I can probably track her down using the equipment.”

Grace studied Blythe’s piercing blue eyes, waiting for a sarcastic cackle to surface, but she remained serious. “Why do you wanna help me? You hate me.”

“Nah, I don’t hate you. I just think you’re a brat. Besides, this dance blows.”

“Are you screwing with me?”

“Do you want my help, or not?”

Grace was stupefied by Blythe’s offer, not sure she could trust her, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was running out of options.

“Okay, let’s go. But you better not be messing with me.”

“Even if I were, what would you do about it?”

“I’d be happy to test out my new knowledge of vital organ damage.”

“Clock’s ticking; let’s do this.” Blythe headed toward the closest transporter.

Inside the lab, Blythe examined the equipment, grinning uncontrollably. The technology was the most sophisticated on the West Coast. This was a communications expert’s dream come true.

“You love this stuff, huh?” Grace asked.

“Been at it for a while now. I know you don’t care about this stuff, but your mom’s a genius. She’s been real good about giving me private tutoring on the mainframe.”

Grace had no idea her mother and Blythe had ever shared a word, let alone worked together. That would explain Blythe’s penchant for technology—she was getting tips from one of the greatest. A brief flash of envy flared up, but she pushed it away.

Blythe sat down at one of the stations and pulled up multiple hologram screens. She started typing feverishly, the same way Sam had typed when he was behind the monitor. Strings of code filled the holograms, illuminating and pulsating as if the servers were coming to life. One of the holograms shifted into what looked like a web with a network of blinking lights at specific intersections.

“The mainframe,” Blythe said.

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s a massive network linking all of the city centers and their activity. Look at it like a giant map of the region. Only this thing goes deeper. Way deeper.” Blythe typed some more code, and Grace recognized a familiar sequence.

“Wait; see those numbers that keep repeating?” Grace pointed to the hologram and zoomed out the section. “Those numbers: 06-14-2310. That’s my mom’s birthday. Or inception day. Or whatever. It’s the day she entered the world. That has to mean something. I’ve seen it before.”

Blythe honed in on the sequence and started the GPS tracking application. After some more turbocharged typing, she jumped out of her chair. “Got her!” She slapped Grace’s back hard, knocking the wind out of her.

“Where is she?”

“If this GPS tracker is right, she’s up north. Looks like the Seattle region.”

Grace flashed back to Emerald Mountain. She had been wary about that place from the moment she saw it in the virtual. “She’s inside . . .”

“Inside what?” Blythe said.

“She’s inside the Seattle City Center.”

16

AVA AWOKE FROM a deep sleep, feeling groggy and half drugged. Her temples throbbed and each cell dragged through her body. She didn’t remember going to bed, or falling asleep. She especially didn’t recall putting on a delicate nightgown of soft satin. She usually slept in a tank top. She sat up and looked around the room to get her bearings. Nothing made sense. Not the enormous king-size bed or the overstuffed feather comforters, or the chiffon canopy hanging over her head. She got out of bed and looked around the room to figure out where she was. Massive crystal chandeliers dangled from the vaulted ceilings. The room was far too opulent to be inside the academy.
No,
she thought,
these chambers are fit for a queen
. And she had been here before. A long time ago.
A very long time ago.
She went over to the windows and peered out to the vast green forest of trees that stretched across the Los Angeles basin all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

“Impossible,” she whispered, leaning against the glass to keep from collapsing.

This was the same room at the Royal Palace where Morray had held her prisoner sixteen years ago. She stood by these same windows just before she made her speech and just before Joseph’s men stormed the Arena and took down Morray. The walls shifted to gray, and the edges of the room closed in on her. She staggered over to the white lounger to sit down and catch her breath. How could she be sitting in a place that no longer existed? Years ago, the New Democracy had demolished the palace. She wondered if she were having a lucid dream or a very pronounced hallucination. It was too real to be a dream—the intoxicating scent of jasmine, the cold marble floor under her bare feet, and the taste of bile in her throat—but the room defied all logic. This had to be an outright lie. It had to be. There was only one explanation and one man who could concoct such a convincing falsehood . . . Morray.

Somehow, the great deceiver had gotten to her and was controlling her thoughts or projecting an elaborate hologram. Otherwise, she
was actually
inside the Royal Palace and the last sixteen years of her life had been a delusion: her marriage to Joseph, her daughter Grace, living in Ojai as an Outsider. Could she have been living in a fantasy world for that many years? She needed a mirror—the reflection wouldn’t lie. She ran to the bathroom and stood before the full-length mirror, staring incredulously at her reflection.

“I don’t understand . . .”

She was eighteen again—not a single wrinkle, freckle, or flaw. Her skin radiated and her auburn hair was much thicker and fuller. It was as though the last sixteen years of aging had been erased and she was no longer the thirty-four-year-old woman she was prior to waking up in this situation. Morray was working some powerful mind control. Perhaps he was capable of manipulating her environment and even her perception, but he couldn’t control her memories. She closed her eyes and thought of Grace. She recalled her daughter’s green eyes and crooked smile. Ava clung to the vivid memories passing before her like a movie: the first time Grace smiled and cooed, those early wobbly steps which eventually grew into skipping and running through the grass, then her transformation from a girl into a young woman. She could
feel
her daughter’s fearless determination to do the right thing, even if that meant standing up to her own mother. These memories couldn’t be figments of her imagination, or a programmed reality.

“She was real,” she said to her reflection. “She
is
real. Grace is real.”

After all those years chasing after Chief William Stowe Morray, the day had come. And she was ready to meet her maker, so to speak. She walked to the middle of the chambers. “Okay, Morray. What do you want?”

The crystal doors slid open and Ava braced herself, knowing Morray would come on strong. He’d make a convincing argument to defy everything she knew in her soul to be true. But instead of Morray coming through the door, the sound of a classical string quartet trickled in from the hallway. It grew louder and louder, until two uniformed men pulling a chariot of musicians entered the room. The two men bowed to Ava, then stood to the side as the music ensemble played. Following the chariot came a train of people, including a team of Beautifiers wearing all white and looking exactly as they had sixteen years ago, two chamber maids, and a chef with a couple of assistants carrying his equipment. They all stood in a line and bowed, or curtsied, to Ava.

“Quite impressive, Morray,” she said, mockingly clapping her hands.

One of the uniformed men stepped forward and addressed Ava, not making eye contact. “Good morning, Miss Ava. We’re delighted to serve you on this most excellent day. First on the list, your personal chef will prepare eggs Florentine in Choron sauce, scalloped potatoes to be paired with a bottle of Pernod Ricard Perrier-Jouët. After which your team of Beautifiers will attend to your wardrobe and enhancements.”

The head Beautifier stepped forward. “Yes, yes, Miss Ava, I have some of the most exquisite ideas for your gown today. Inspired by Joséphine de Beauharnais, the first wife of Napoleon—a most interesting love story.”

Ava addressed the man in the uniform. “This is all
very
charming, but I’d like to see Morray.”

“We have our orders, Miss Ava,” he said.

“Which are?”

“To feed you and dress you. That is all we know.” He bowed and motioned for the chef to begin his work.

“I insist that you call Morray in,” she said.

“We have our orders,” he replied.

The quartet began to play Mozart’s “Coronation Mass in C Major” while the chef began chopping and stirring. The chattering team of Beautifiers bustled about and swiftly escorted her over to the lounger, where they got started on the transformation. It was going to be a long morning.

“Yes, yes, I think you’ll love the inspiration for today’s look. When Joséphine’s first husband was executed, she was spared her life and shortly thereafter she met Napoleon. Her beauty intoxicated him, and he wrote the most delightful love letters. He once wrote, ‘I awake full of you.’ Oh, my, my. Isn’t it so exhilarating? To love so deeply and passionately? They were married, and two days later he went to war. He continued sending love letters, telling her, ‘You who alone can move and rule my heart, you who know all too well the absolute empire you exercise over it!’ His words were so full of passion!”

“They were full of something,” Ava mumbled, hoping the charade would end soon.

But the shenanigans continued on. The chef’s assistants set down the tray of savory eggs and potatoes. Ava’s mouth watered and she tried to refuse the meal, but the assistant urged, saying Morray would have her imprisoned if Ava didn’t eat. So she ate the eggs Florentine and potatoes—and even sipped champagne—playing along with whatever game Morray was concocting. As she finished up the last few bites, the head Beautifier requested her attention.

“I’d like to present three designs for you to make your selection. If I do say, I’m quite partial to the cream empire waist with the golden embellishments around the neckline and cap sleeves. But of course, the final decision is yours, Miss Ava.” The head Beautifier curtsied low and stepped back for Ava to observe the three holograms.