Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) (17 page)

Elektra giggles softly. Right before my eyes, s
he’s transformed into a complete sweetheart. Charming, polite, and startlingly kind. The Parkers will love her—but now it hits me. There’s something important that I missed. My jaw drops as I realize, we have no idea what kind of DZs the
parents
want.

Forget what the prizes said on Prize Night. Forget whether or not we got phone numbers. Parents have their own intentions for their children, and right now those intentions are all that matter.
My gut wrenches. What Mr. and Mrs. Smith want for Hazel will determine whether or not I move on in the Carnival. Hazel said she wants a dangerous man, but for all I know, her parents may permit only the safest DZs to play her.

I might not stand a chance.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Parker,” Elektra says. She hangs up her phone. Tinder shoots her an expectant look that says,
Tell me everything
.

“I got
permission.” She shrugs. “Now, everything’s up to Wesley.”

I
twist one of my fists into the plush white carpet, tearing into scabs left over from my fight with Bing. My knuckles sting a bit, but that’s nothing compared to the disappointment growing inside of me. I thought I was doing kind of well. I mean, I got Hazel’s phone number. My prefs are solid, growing every day. But no call by now means I’m not the Smith favorite. And I might not get permission at all.

We sit in tense silence. I tuck my phone under my thigh so I won’t be able to check
the time. Better not to feed my own dread. I already feel like I’m sinking. I wait and promise myself I won’t pull my phone out again until it buzzes.

It will buzz. It has to.

Minutes pass. Five, ten, I don’t know. I hope Star has gotten a call by now. She must have. Sure, she’s putting on an act for the Carnival, but she’s still Star. People just love her. And I remember the exact moment when I learned that.

In
Dark DC, I waited as long as possible to introduce Star to my parents. Aura and Burn always said they would honor whoever I loved, but I wasn’t entirely sure they meant it. They were just so passionate about our family. I figured they’d have impossible standards for any girl I liked. So even when I fell for Star—when I knew she was the one—I waited two whole years to bring her home. I feared that day like a plague.

As
Star and I climbed my front steps for the first time, I was sweating. My whole body was tense with dread—much like the way I feel now, waiting for this goddamn call. As we stepped closer, out of nervousness, I tripped. My chin smacked the icy wooden railing and started to gush red. That was it, I thought. I’d ruined the whole day. Star rushed me inside in a panic, where my parents stood waiting to meet her. She was so frantic that she ran right past them. I practically screamed at her to at least wave to Aura and Burn, but she wasn’t listening. She found a towel and soap in the kitchen. Cleaned my wound.

My
parents watched the whole thing, stunned and ignored. Only when I stopped bleeding did Star even realize they were there. She greeted them, and that was fine, but then came the awful waiting for Aura or Burn to say something. Anything. Burn left the room suddenly, and when he returned, he had a hunting knife. Star looked shell-shocked, but I knew what was coming. Very seriously, he offered Star the chance to carve her name on the mantle. Star didn’t know how much that gesture meant, but I did. It meant Aura and Burn would always treat her like family. Because they knew she was the one for me, too.

My thigh vibrates
, stirring me back into the present. Tinder spins around at the noise and stares at my leg. I reach for my phone so fast that my hands scratch each other. I pore over the ten digits displayed across the screen:
347-555-0108
.

Wait.
I know this number.

This is the sequence that
Dr. Fletcher scrawled on the yellow notepad. The exact same one, I’m sure of it. My mouth feels dry. I don’t know what to do. I sense Tinder and Elektra staring holes into me, watching my every move. My phone buzzes again in my hand, daring me to pick up, but I’m not sure if I can take this call. Whoever waits on the other end might be the one to get me—whatever the hell that means.

“Let me help you
,” Elektra says with an edge.

From where she sits right next to me, s
he wraps her hand around mine and presses my thumb to the screen. I’ve effectively just answered the call. She raises my phone hand to my ear, and her stare gives me one option—start talking.

Sound brave.

“This is Phoenix,” I say sternly.

“
Greetings,” a familiar voice says. “This is Mr. Chauncer, Flora’s father.”

“
Hello, sir.”

Tinder kneels on the carpet and inches
closer to me. He and Elektra lean toward my phone and try to listen. I shoo them both away and head for the window where they can’t hear my conversation. I’m already on thin ice in their eyes, and I don’t want them to hear me say anything strange. Then they’d have a whole new reason to distrust me.

In front of
the window, it hits me that the one who might get me is the powerful Easy in America. I clear my throat and look over my shoulder to make sure Elektra and Tinder didn’t follow. They are whispering to each other. Tinder has his eyebrows pulled together in confusion to form a perfect
T
with his narrow nose.

“How are you, my boy?” Mr. Chauncer asks.

“I’m fine,” I say.

“
Then let’s get to it,” Mr. Chauncer says. “I am well aware that my news will take you by surprise, but that is no reason not to proceed. I have called you, Phoenix, to give you my permission to play Flora.”

“You
what
?”
I ask.

“You have my permission to play my daughter, Flora,” he repeats. “You are the Chauncer favorite.
I apologize for not calling earlier. Most Carnival duties fall on my shoulders, and I had some business to attend to.”

I nod vacantly.

“As head of the Connecticut Family, I get my pick of the year’s players,” he says. “I am aware that you are committed to Hazel, but I took the liberty of changing that for you. Consider yourself in the running for Flora now.”

“Sir, I don’t understand,” I stammer.

“Naturally,” he says. “I suppose I should explain why I chose you, or else you might not believe that you are the favorite. Besides, I do expect you to join the Chauncers, so you may learn this in time. The Chauncers are a very powerful Family, Phoenix. We know everything that happens in this country, including things that the other Families do not know. And we know that the world is about to change. Things are about to get much more dangerous in the United States, and I want—I
need
—my Flora to be safe.”

What?

“I chose you because you’re a killer, Phoenix,” he says with a sudden vigor in his voice. “The other DZs see it. That’s why they tried to kill you first. Some Players put on shows for the Carnival, but you are a born fighter. You are the only one here who could keep my daughter safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I manage.

“Flora loves me dearly,” he says. “My opinion will be very persuasive to her. I can’t make any promises on her behalf, but I will do my best to bring you into our Family. Interpret that as you will.”

I am speechless.

Mr. Chauncer hangs up, and I am left in silence. I let the phone drift away from my ear and turn to stare at Elektra and Tinder in utter, unmasked astonishment. Elektra raises an eyebrow, telling me to explain, but there are no words. The truth might turn them against me. They might think I was in on this the whole time.

“Who was that?” Elektra asks.

“The Smiths, Elektra,” Tinder says.

“No, no,” she says. She waves a slender finger. “I’m asking Phoenix.”

I scrub my face with my hands, suddenly exhausted. I look at Tinder’s innocent expression and can’t find a single word to explain. He might actually love Flora, and he’s going to hate me when he finds out that I’m playing her. Just using her for the electricity. Elektra approaches me with impatient steps. When she’s within an arm’s reach, she shakes my shoulder to as if to wake me up from a stupor.

“I’m so sorry, Tinder,” I
burst.

“Why?” he asks fearfully.

“
Mr. Chauncer just gave me permission to play Flora.”

Elektra lets me go.
Tinder’s jaw drops, but Elektra nods as if she expected me to say that. Tinder looks even more hurt than I expected, and I feel absolutely terrible. All I wanted was the Smiths’ permission. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“You
lied
to us,” Tinder accuses.

“What? No!” I say. “I knew nothing about this!”

Tinder’s phone buzzes. He raises it to his ear and turns his back to me and Elektra. Hunching slightly, his shoulder blades poke two small tents in his dull gray sweater, and he rubs the back of his neck with one hand. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I still feel like I’ve betrayed him. Tinder clears his throat with two anxious coughs.

“Mr. Chauncer?” he asks hopefully. “Oh, thank God.”

I’m pulled out of my pity suddenly when Elektra yanks me toward the cream sofa. I fall onto the firm cushions, and she sits me up promptly. An inch away from my face, she glares at me. I can see thin yellow rings of color constrict around her pupils. Last night’s black mascara has smudged, painting eerie black half-moons beneath her eyes. A hint of how she must have looked as a Shadow in the Dark Zone.

“What else are you hiding?”
she demands.

“
Nothing,” I say.

“Tell
me now, Phoenix,” she says.

“
I said nothing!” I explode. Tinder waves his hand up and down in our direction, telling us to be quiet. I go on, more quietly, “This is a complete shock to me, too. Goddammit, Elektra, can’t you see it?”

Elektra nods
carefully. “Lucky for you, I can,” she says. She pulls my phone out of my pocket, and I don’t even resist. If she wants my phone, she’ll find a way to get it. I peer over the top to watch her update my profile.

PHOENIX:

Just now:
bored with hazel. sup flora

“Thank you,” Tinder says, hanging up. As he turns to face us, he puts his hands on his hips to form two sharp triangles. His lips lock into a trembling line, and I can tell he is still hurt. More confident with the permission, but just as wounded.

“Out with it,” Elektra orders.

“Mr. Chauncer said he changed the rules,” Tinder says, looking only at me. “This year, more than one player in each suite can play the same prize. That means we can both play Flora, Phoenix. Even though only one of us actually cares about her, both of us can play her.”

Tinder shakes his head
tearfully and stalks toward his room. Elektra rises slowly from the sofa and glides in the opposite direction. I’m left alone to let the new reality wash over me, and my back slouches with resignation.

I’ll be p
laying Flora now, not Hazel. Between Tinder and me, only one of us can win her, and worst of all, Star doesn’t know yet. That prize has gotten under Star’s skin, and God only knows why. Something about Flora just makes her jealous. When Star finds out what’s happened now, this is going to hit her where it hurts.

I stand up in a huff. Pacing in a wide circle, m
y mind drifts to consider the other things Mr. Chauncer said—that the world was getting more dangerous, Flora needed to be protected—but I’m not sure how much of that I believe. Dr. Fletcher’s note warned me about him. I still don’t know what it means to be like #328, but now that Mr. Chauncer and I will be getting closer, I don’t have much time left to learn.

SCHEDULE

**ALERT:
15 Minute Warning before Next Event**

0
2:00 p.m.–06:00 p.m. PREPARE FOR FAMILY DINNER.

Location: Your suite on floor 33
. Description: Browse new reading material on your phone describing the history and current members of the Connecticut Family. Get ready for dinner tonight with the Chauncers in their home.

It’s getting very close to six. I tried reading the provided information, but I kept getting distracted by the pictures. Almost all of the Connecticut Family looks the same: blond, boring, and clean. There wasn’t a physical flaw in the group—no crooked noses, unibrows, or patches of acne—except on one man. Named Flash.

His short biography was the only one I
actually read. Turns out, Flash is from Dark Orlando. Two years ago, he left six brothers behind in the Dark Zone. He crossed the Frontier just like we did and was entered into the Carnival. Then he fell in love with Clementine at first sight—so he claims—and they got married at the end of the week. Flash’s picture shows him grinning like the rest of the Chauncers, but he looks different. A scar cuts across one eyebrow, leaving a hairless path, and his teeth are crooked. His hair is black.

I wonder
if Flash really loves her and fidget with my phone. There’s not enough time to do anything else but think and wait before the next alert. Right now, I’m lying faceup on the bed that almost belonged to Big Eyes. Tinder said this room was bad luck, but it can’t be worse than a room where two DZs were killed. Besides, I’ve been in here since the permissions, and nothing bad has happened—not yet.

“Phoenix!” Elektra calls from
the hallway. She adds something I can’t quite make out. My door is shut, so I can’t hear her that well.

“What?”
I bellow.

“
I said are you dressed?” she asks, louder.

“Yeah,” I say, tucking my chin into my chest and looking down at my outfit. I chose a starched
, white collared shirt, khaki pants, and brown loafers with tassels that swing when I walk. Conservative and plain for the Chauncers. “Why?”

“
Zip me up,” she says, clearly now. She knocks quickly on my door.

“Whatever you say,” I mutter.

My phone vibrates as I stand, and it sounds like I’m getting a call. Surprised, I check the screen to see a familiar number. My phone continues to buzz while I place the sequence. Where the hell have I seen this before? After a moment, I realize: Star. This is Star’s number, and she’s ringing me now. I wedge my phone immediately into my armpit to muffle the noise, and I hold my breath. I hope to God Elektra didn’t just hear that buzzing.

“Are you coming or not?” she asks.

“Uh…no!” I call.

“Why not?” she demands.

“I need to take a piss,” I lie.

That
excuse should work. Elektra sighs impatiently as I run into the bathroom and slam the door too hard behind me. I wince. My phone keeps vibrating, and I pull it quickly out from under my arm. Answer it as fast as I can to stop the noise. I desperately want to talk to Star, but I’m going to have to speak quietly now to keep Elektra from overhearing. If she suspects we’ve been in contact, we’re doomed.

“Phoenix?” Star asks.

“Star,” I whisper.

“
Do you still want to meet up?” she asks.

Standing over the bathroom sink, I
glimpse my tortured expression in the mirror. What I wish I could say burns through my mind: Of course I want to see you, Star. I’d do anything to come over—I’d come over now and hold you—but Elektra threatened us this morning
.
I can’t explain what she said because she’s right outside, but we can’t talk to each other anymore. Just until we’re safer, maybe for the rest of the Carnival. I’m sorry, Star, but you have to trust me. This is what’s best for us.

“Phoenix?” she asks. “
Do you want to? After dinner?”

“I can’t,” I murmur.

“Okay,” she concedes in a small voice. She feels so far away. A silence grows between us, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. I scratch the back of my neck anxiously. If I spend too long in here, Elektra will become suspicious. I run the faucet so that Elektra will think I’m washing my hands.

“
Are you ready for your dinner tonight?” she asks.

“We promised
not to talk about the Carnival,” I whisper.

“Sorry,” she says.
“Just…why did you write an update about Flora?”

“Star,
please.”

“You’r
e playing Flora, aren’t you?” she asks.

I rub my forehead and feel her hurting through the phone.
Elektra starts knocking on my door again, and I have to hang up. I have to. I grimace as I do it and stare at my own narrow eyes in the bathroom mirror. Star’s voice—“You’re playing Flora, aren’t you?”—repeats in my mind. Anger slowly builds, and I watch as a vein bulges red in my neck. I hate this. I run my hands through my hair to calm down.

Elektra keeps knocking, but I’m not composed enough to face her. E
verything with Star feels out of my control. I made a commitment—to fight for
us
—but all it’s done is hurt
her.
There’s no denying it anymore; the awful thought I’ve been avoiding is true. By being here and playing in this Carnival, I’ve only made things worse for Star.

I remember
the moment I decided to follow her to America. The morning sky was dark gray, and the Frontier beside me looked ominous and grim. Unbearable emptiness was ripping me apart—my whole world was falling apart—and the sadness hurt so much that I decided to leave with her after all. But that’s it. My head snaps up to attention as the realization chills me. I didn’t come here for “us,” not really. I crossed the Frontier for me. I followed Star into this country because I didn’t want to endure the heart-wrenching pain of losing her.

Burn’s words echo
suddenly in my mind, “When you love something, you set it free.” I know how much I love Star. Goddammit, I do. I’ve always loved her, but she is not free and that’s partly my fault. There’s not a shred of good that’s come from us being together in this Carnival, and—and I’m going to have to let her free. Free from my anger, from my selfishness, and from my jealousy. Free from this cycle of pulling her in so close and then scaring her away. I’ve put my own emotions first, but now that’s going to change.

I won’t fight for “us
” anymore. I’m going to fight for her. And that means—it means letting her go for a little while. For as long as necessary. I swallow a rising lump in my throat. I will do whatever makes her the most happy, the most safe, the most free, regardless of how it makes me feel. I’m going to tell her not to worry about hurting me anymore. She will have my full blessing—my encouragement, even—to throw herself at Bing. And no matter what happens between us, I will always,
always
love her.

Suddenly, the lights
go out. The bathroom is pitch black.

Goddammit, the bulbs must have died.
I wipe my face to get a hold of myself, figuring I’m no good to Star if I get myself hurt. Spreading my arms, I creep backward to open the door and see the bedroom is dark, too. Huh. With the curtains shut and the ceiling lights now off, I might as well be at home in the middle of the night. Bewildered, I make my way carefully into the hallway, where Tinder is spinning in a slow circle with wide, mystified eyes. Elektra is standing next to him, stock-still and hyperalert. Her neck looks perfectly straight as if she listens for some kind of answer. Slowly, I realize what’s going on.

This might be
a blackout.

“They must have…
generators,” Tinder whispers fearfully.

I grunt to agree, b
ut the lights are not turning back on. Elektra rushes past me to the side of my bedroom and starts flipping the light switch up and down—for nothing. The room is still
dark. She runs to the curtains and flings them open, revealing a New York City gone completely dark. Tinder gasps, and my heart is racing. Every tower in the skyline is almost black. The traffic lights below have stopped working. Easies walking the sidewalks look up at the sky in a daze, trying to figure out what’s going on. More and more of them clamber out of their cars, searching in vain for just one yellow square of light.

It’s really happened: A
blackout has struck.

“Do you think it will last?” Ti
nder asks.

“I don’t know,” I say.

I imagine how this might play out. If the electricity returns soon, then the Carnival will continue as usual. There would probably be punishments for everyone who tried to escape. But if the power stays off for a whole day—or for the rest of the week—then that might be enough time to get out of the city…

Elektra
turns around suddenly, distracting me from my thoughts. There’s a glint in her eye, and I can sense what she wants to do. She’s about to leave the Carnival. Before I can stop her, Elektra leans forward to bolt like lightning down the hallway. I chase determinedly after her, pumping my arms in the slowly chilling air. Get back here. She sprints much faster than I do, but I can’t let her leave. Elektra’s been my ticket since I got here, and there are still four days left to the end. I need her advice. She has to stay.

Elektra gets
farther and farther ahead of me. Too fast. She sails smoothly past every dark room, and now she swings herself around her doorway and slams her door. I’m only halfway there, in the foyer. I slow to a stop and catch my breath right as the front door opens beside me. Two DZs from the adjacent suite poke their heads in and observe our dead chandeliers and lamps. Their eyes are wide at the possibility.

“You too?” one
asks.

I
nod.

At the end of the hallway, E
lektra’s door creaks open and she jogs out of her room. She’s dressed in her black leather pants and jacket from day one. She’s even reapplied the charcoal around her eyes and swept her hair into a high ponytail. A full-fledged Shadow again. Elektra runs past me and the neighboring DZs out the front door—and I have only one choice. I have to get her and bring her back.

She
races down the stairwell next to the elevators. I follow her at top speed, my chest already burning from the sprint. The stairs are dark as hell, but this is exactly the kind of place where I feel most at home. We run.

“
Elektra!” I shout.

She laughs, and the sound
echoes demoniacally throughout the shaft. She’s getting more and more ahead of me all the time. Goddammit, I can’t seem to keep up. I hear less and less of her with every new staircase. She’s a flight ahead of me, then two, now five, now almost ten. I can’t hear her at all anymore, but I keep jumping my way down. I pause on the third floor to listen and breathe, but now she has completely disappeared. The stairwell is deathly silent, and every exit door is perfectly still. She’s gone.

I
lean over the banister and stare down the remaining flights. There are four left. Puzzled, I check the exit door next to me, which indicates that I’m on the third floor. Just like I thought. I look back down. Four to go. There must be an extra door below the lobby level. Curious, I jog down toward it. My footsteps reverberate as I move.

Standing in front of the basement door, I push it tentatively. On the other side, I find another door just like it.
Slightly more nervous now, I get the sense that there is something important down here. I press the second door open and walk into a metallic space the size of my bedroom. Every surface in here looks like aluminum. The far wall holds a bolted iron door, with a plaque:
The Chauncer Laboratories
. Before the sign, two Suits stand carrying large semiautomatic rifles in the dark. As a gun man, I know exactly what those can do. And I’m shocked to see this room so guarded.

“
Hello, sirs,” I say. It comes out awkwardly.

The Suits
glare at me. Looking back at the plaque, I try to figure out what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. Chauncer Laboratories. Dr. Fletcher’s note comes back to me now, and I wonder if the reason he warned me about Mr. Chauncer has anything to do with this place. I get the feeling that it does. Thinking quickly, I try to come up with a way to get through the bolted door—and now I have it.

I pull up my left sleeve, where I wear my family crest.
One of the Suits leans toward me to get a better look at the tattoo. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, and now he looks back at his partner, unsure of how to proceed.

“I am
a member of the Troublefield Family,” I declare, taking advantage of his hesitation. Already, I sense that their approval is getting closer and closer. “Mr. Chauncer gave me permission to be here.”

One
of the Suits nods at the other and then opens a closet built into the side of the room. From inside, he pulls out a white lab coat with the initials TC on the front pocket and a blue mask to wear over my mouth. I put them both on as quickly as I can. The Suit enters a long code on a grid of single digits next to the bolted door. Now, it opens to reveal a well-lit hallway, and I almost gasp aloud. Electricity works in this part of the basement. They must have generators specifically for here. The rest of New York is dead, but I am basking in power—this place must be vitally important.