Page 42 of Imaginary Numbers

“Please don’t even think it,” he said wearily. “I wasn’t lying about my backup. They may not be right on top of your family’s property, but they’re close enough, and you’d never make it. This is the kindest way of doing things.”

“It doesn’t feel very kind to me,” I said.

“That’s because you’re the prize,” he said. “The prize is, well, prized. It’s desired and valued and it doesn’t get to have opinions of its own. Opinions are for soldiers and flunkies. You get to sit on a shelf and look shiny until it’s time for you to go to work.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” he said, and started walking again, taking our only light with him.

The woods were so dense and dark around us that I wasn’t sure I could find the compound on my own. We’d gone far enough into the trees that even the minds of the family members I was attuned to had faded into true silence—not just the static of a present but inactive connection. Maybe I’d been complicit in my own kidnapping, but at this point, I was committed.

Something rustled in the bushes behind me, something without enough of a mind for me to latch onto. I shuddered and chased after Mark and the safety of his flashlight.

“Thought so,” he said, once I drew up level with him. “Like I said, we’re almost there.”

“Why aren’t you answering my questions?” I asked.

“Prizes don’t get to ask questions,” he said.

“I’m not a prize.”

“Yeah, you are, princess. Come to terms with that sooner rather than later, if you can. This will be a lot easier for you if you do.” He stepped over a fallen log and paused to offer me his hand. “Careful. The footing’s treacherous here.”

I stared at his hand for a split second before grasping it and using it for leverage as I both stepped over the log and drove myself deep into his mind, past the layers of mental defenses, past the walls whose construction I paused long enough to both admire and study. He knew some tricks I didn’t. I wanted them. I wanted everything.

He wanted me to take? Well, he was going to get everything he wanted, and he was going to get it now.

The word “instar” was floating near the surface of his mind, almost like he’d been waiting for me to come and get it. That was silly—tell a person not to think about elephants and they won’t be able to think about anything else—but I still shrieked silent triumph as I seized hold of it and drew it into my own vocabulary.

Instar: a developmental stage of insects. There was more wrapped up in the definition, science and analysis and images of butterflies bursting out of cocoons, ants breaking out of their exoskeletons, but the core of it didn’t waver, didn’t change. I dropped Mark’s hand. He staggered back, eyes wide and glinting white as he stared at me with new, slightly frightened respect.

“Skin contact,” I snarled. “Shouldn’t have given it to me.” His thoughts were clearer now. They almost formed words even without him trying to project them. “Think next time.”

“There’s not going to be a next time,” he said. “There should have never even been a first time.”

“You really want to tell me you’ve never touched anyone before in your life?”

“I’ve touched plenty of people,” he said. “I’ve never touched anyone like you.”

“Because I’ve reached my third instar,” I said.

He turned his face away.

“Don’t make me go into your thoughts again. Neither of us is going to enjoy it.” I made a motion like I was going to grab his hand. He flinched. “You don’t want that? Then talk.”

“You have no idea what you’re messing with, Sarah,” Mark said. He took a step backward, away from me, out of easy reach. That didn’t matter. Skin is easy. When all I need is skin, I can do anything. “This is so much bigger than either one of us. You need to stop.”

“You’re kidnapping me, taking through the woods to hand me over to a bunch of strangers, and taunting me with all the things I don’t know, and I’m the one who needs to stop?” I narrowed my eyes. I could see them reflected in Mark’s irises, little glints of light that meant my abilities were still on high-alert and informing everything about me. “I think you got your pronouns wrong.”

“You’ll understand soon,” he said, a note of genuine pleading in his voice. “Please. We’re almost there.”

I glared at him for a moment before I pulled myself back, taking a deep breath. We were too deep in the woods for me to make it to the compound on my own, and I needed to know why this was all happening. Whatever the fourth instar was, it was enough to frighten Mark. Maybe it would be enough to frighten the rest of them. I could resolve this without endangering the rest of my family. I could handle it. Whatever this was, I could handle it.

“All right,” I said, and let him lead me into the dark.

Twelve

“Didn’t think I’d ever have a family. Didn’t think I’d ever want one. It’s funny, how much a person can change without even noticing what’s happening.”