Natalie, unaware of what had caused the other children’s reaction, noted her objection to such behavior. “Don’t move. That’s the rule. If you break the rule, you’ll get punished. If you get punished, they might break you. We can’t play when you’re broken, and I don’t want to turn the jump rope myself.” Natalie’s voice was high and clear, and even from the fade, Claire realized that it had a sweetness to it, a quality that would have been compelling if Claire had been solid.
We can’t play when you’re broken.
Claire found herself wondering what exactly broken meant. And why exactly Natalie’s biggest concern with her playmates’ potential for breaking was that they might be too battered to turn her rope. For the moment, though, Claire couldn’t think about Natalie, couldn’t ponder her words. All she could do was look at the little boy and little girl who flanked her side. And the moment she met their eyes, Claire knew that she was going to lose her fade.
She said a brief prayer that up on the main floor of the institute, Nix didn’t lose his.
If he does, he’s dead.
That was the thought that greeted Claire the moment she became solid. It was terrifying, paralyzing, and all consuming, and she didn’t have time for it. The guards watching this room might not register her presence immediately, but if they were taking the Nobody serum, if they’d been partially inoculated to her powers, they’d notice her eventually, and all hell would break loose. She had to get the twins and Natalie back to the fade before that happened.
And the sooner she got back to the fade, the safer Nix would be.
“Who are you?” Natalie demanded, not bothering to look Claire in the eye.
Claire smiled at her. “I’m Claire,” she whispered. “I’m here to take you all away.” And then, to Natalie’s absolute shock, Claire turned her back on the little girl and brought one hand up to gently touch Nix’s siblings—shoulder, arm.
Brush the hair out of their faces.
Look them in the eyes.
“I’m Claire,” she said again. “I’m here for you.”
“You’re here for me,” Natalie said helpfully. “I told him to get you. I don’t want to play this game anymore. I want to leave.”
“We’re all going to leave,” Claire said. “All three of us. And to do that, we have to work together.”
“They have to leave, too,” Natalie agreed. “They have to leave because they’re mine. I don’t like it when they’re gone.”
The two little Nobodies—Claire couldn’t bear to think of them as Nix and Nix—moved closer to Natalie, their little bodies nearly touching hers.
They love her.
To Claire’s surprise, Natalie closed the gap, grabbing each of the other little ones by their arms, a little too hard.
“They have to come, too. They’re mine.”
Like they were toys. Or dogs.
It didn’t seem to have occurred to the little girl that Claire might want to get her companions out of her own accord. Then again, chances were good that the children had never met a grown-up—or almost grown-up—Nobody. Natalie had never seen anyone who would have given either of the Nixes the time of day.
“I would never leave them behind,” Claire told Natalie solemnly, and then she made eye contact with first the little girl and then the little boy. “Never, ever, ever.”
The distinct sound of rattling—locks churning, doors opening, yelling—interrupted Claire’s promise.
“We’re going to go away now,” Claire told Nix’s little siblings. “We’re going to go somewhere no one can ever hurt you, and Natalie’s going to go, too.”
“We tried,” the little boy said. “We tried and tried, and Dr. Milano got mad, because we couldn’t do it. But if we do it, they’ll take Natalie away.”
“Nobody’s taking Natalie away,” Claire said, and then she was struck by the double meaning of the sentence she’d just uttered.
Nobody is taking Natalie away.
“I can fade, too,” Claire told the children. “And if all three of us fade, and if we make Natalie a part of us, the very most important part—”
Natalie smiled, and the expression, though aesthetically adorable, was chilling to Claire. Natalie was used to being the most important part. She couldn’t fathom being anything less.
Doesn’t care about anyone else. This could end badly. This could end very—
“Let’s close our eyes,” Claire said, her tone making her feel like either a preschool teacher or a drill sergeant, and unsure of which. “Less than shadow. Less than air.”
It wasn’t her motto, but she was betting it was theirs, same as it was Nix’s. The Society would have taught it to them, made them believe it, the same way they’d taught it to him.
“Less than shadow, less than air.” The children’s reaction was instantaneous. Nix’s brother and sister joined hands and closed their eyes, and Claire willed them to succeed at shutting out the rest of the world.
“You’re nothing,” she said, hating herself for telling them a thing they’d already heard said too matter-of-factly, too often. “You’re Nobody.”
From outside the children’s chamber, Claire could hear the muffled sound of yelling.
“They watch me,” Natalie said blithely. “All the time, every day, they watch me. They know I’m talking to you. They know my Nobodies moved, and now they’re going to break them again!”
She stamped one foot, and Claire could feel the compulsion to make Natalie happy worming its way into her blood. She blocked it, thinking of her Nix and these little Nixes. Claire forced her own mind to still and spoke words designed to make the little ones do the same.
You can do this, she told them silently, unable to praise them out loud. You’re strong. You can do this.
“Be nothing,” she told them out loud, but even as the words exited her mouth, she accepted that she couldn’t heed her own advice. The voices outside their chamber were getting louder, closer, and the locks she’d walked through, the precautions that had to be more for Natalie’s benefit than the twins’ were being quickly undone.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of the innermost door’s lock, more suited to a bank safe than a bedroom, told Claire that she didn’t have much time, and in a single motion, she thrust the children—all three of them—behind her. Her right hand went for her gun, and her left managed to grasp the knife Nix had strapped to her side, just as the guards burst into the room.