Wildcard Page 7

  “Is that what we’re down here for? The games?” I look at him. “I thought you were going to show me how to break into Hideo’s mind.”

  “We are.” Zero nods. “And I am.”

  “How?”

  “We recently uncovered a glitch in Hideo’s Link system. The same system that allows two people to communicate through their thoughts. The glitch only appears if you and I are Linked during a game of Warcross.”

  I suck in my breath. “What kind of glitch?”

  “During a regular Link session, you have to get permission from the other person in order to access any of their thoughts. But during Warcross, with the right hack, this glitch allows you into that person’s mind and memories without their consent.”

  A glitch that lets you into your Linked partner’s mind. I imagine a stranger’s cold claws piercing my thoughts and memories, me powerless to stop it. How in the world did Zero find a glitch this huge?

  Zero smiles at my confusion. “Even the biggest companies in the world aren’t that secure,” he reminds me.

  No wonder we’re here. And no wonder Zero has wanted to Link with me. I stare up into his black helmet, suddenly feeling very exposed.

  Zero brought me here to play a game of Warcross while Linked.

  A slight buzzing tickles my ears. It’s the same sound I’d heard back during the Warcross championships, when Zero first interrupted my underwater game with the Phoenix Riders. A clicking sound makes me look down. I’m now encased in dark armor of my own, crimson-red plates in contrast to Zero’s black. No doubt that if I were looking at myself, I would see my face hidden behind a helmet.

  Then the Pirate’s Den vanishes, and I find myself standing in a Warcross world.

  I’m going to play against Zero, one on one.

  8

  A one-on-one game of Warcross is called a Duel. It’s the same game as Warcross itself, except without a team to back you up—and without a team, everything falls onto your shoulders. You are the Captain, Architect, and Thief. You are the Fighter and Healer.

  I’ve watched Duels in the Dark World before, but I’ve never played in one. And down here, where screwing up in a game could endanger my life, I’m not feeling good about my chances.

  Already, a crowd of gamblers has gathered around, and an announcer has started to take bets for and against each of us. I find myself wondering if anything will happen to me if I lose this game. Just how much do I trust Zero to demonstrate getting into my mind? What if he damages my account permanently? It seems like a lot of trouble to bring me here just for that . . . but it’s hard to be sure of anything with him.

  Our Duel’s virtual world is a night setting. Sheets of stars sweep the skies, while streaks of pink and purple linger at the horizon, an image of the minutes right after sunset. Hundreds of giant glass archways curve through the air, each of them reflecting the light. When I look down at my feet, I realize with a start that I’m not standing on solid ground at all—but on the back of a creature. A moving creature.

  A dragon. As long as a whale.

  Its scales are illuminated with glowing neon stripes, and its wings are haloed in gold light, as if it were a robot. And when I look closer, I realize that the scales beneath my feet aren’t organic, but metallic.

  I fall to my knees as the beast arches its enormous neck and lets out a column of fire from its mechanical jaws, outlining the clouds below us. Its shriek echoes across the world.

  “Welcome to the Dragon’s Nest.” A voice reverberates overhead. Familiar, glowing power-ups materialize in the air, lighting up the evening with their colors—and at the same time, a selection of weapons appears in front of me.

  Rope. Knives. Dynamite. Gun. Bow and arrows. Shield.

  It’s a selection of the weapons that each Warcross team player would have, and I’m allowed to choose three of them to hang on my belt. A timer counts down above it. I have ten seconds. My mind whirls, and I grab for what’s familiar to me. The rope. The dynamite. Then I remember that I can’t just be an Architect—this isn’t a game where Roshan can protect me. So I put back the dynamite and grab for the shield and the bow and arrows right before the selection vanishes.

  I clip on the silver shield armguards, then swing the arrows over my back and loop the bow across my chest. The gun might be useful, but if I’m on a dragon, then Zero probably will be, too, and I might need a way to swing up onto his. Rope and a bow will be my best bet.

  My dragon swoops toward the closest glass arch to us. I look around for Zero, but see him nowhere. Even as a chant goes up from the Blackcoat spectators, indicating the start of the game, I’m still gliding alone through the air. Reflections from the arches throw me off. I whirl, thinking Zero’s behind me, but there are only more clouds.

  “Game! Set! Fight!”

  Suddenly, an enormous shadow lands on top of the arch right over us. A web of cracks jolts across the glass with a deafening splinter.

  My head jerks up—and I see him there, Zero, on the back of a dragon with scales as black as a rain-soaked raven, its metal spikes shining with edges of dark silver light. His dragon hisses at me, then brings its wings down in one mighty swoop. The glass arch shatters into a thousand pieces.

  I throw myself against my dragon’s shoulders and cross my forearms to activate my shield. The circular blue field bursts out from my armguards as glass shards pour down on me. The impact nearly knocks me flat. I flinch as if the weight were real.

  [Player B] | Life: -20%

  If it weren’t for my shield, a hit like that would have easily slashed my life bar in half. And in a real Warcross game, giving my opponent the advantage of a surprise attack like that before the starting call would be impossible. But here, cheats are commonly written in, sometimes as a game progresses live.

  When is Zero going to show me the hack?

  A roar from the onlookers fills my ears. I peer up through my shield in time to see Zero leap from the back of his dragon to hurtle down toward mine. He lands on one of its wings, then yanks a sword from his side. He slashes hard into the wing, puncturing the fold, and cuts a deep gash.

  My dragon screams—it pitches to one side. The sudden lurch sends me tumbling, forcing me to break my armguard pose. My shield deactivates as I instead grab the edge of one of the beast’s scales and hang on. Below us, other dragons glide in and out between the glass arches, black silhouettes against the evening. A series of glowing power-ups hover above them, golden speed bursts and ice marbles, a sphere of green vines and a fireball.

  My mind whirls, gauging the distance between me and each of them. That fireball is a Flamethrower power-up, strong enough to swallow an opponent whole. The sphere wrapped with vines is a Vine Trap, capable of entangling a player for five seconds, immobilizing them on the spot.

  I haul myself up along the dragon’s scales. Zero lunges for me—I roll to one side before he can seize the glowing Artifact hanging over my head. He misses it by a bare inch. I roll over and over as he lunges for me again. My hands fumble for the rope at my waist, but then I feel Zero’s hand clamp down on my arm. He pulls me toward him.

  I grit my teeth and kick—my metal boots hit him in the chest, and I push off as hard as I can. He loses his grip on me. I fling myself free of both Zero and my dragon, then plummet through the air. Wind screams against my ears.

  As I go, I activate my shield again and turn it at an angle. It catches the air, letting me steer myself slightly sideways. I manage to navigate myself toward the fireball and the vine power-ups. I throw both arms wide, grabbing the two power-ups simultaneously.

  I look up to see Zero jump from the dragon and follow me down. I pocket the vine power-up, then take the fireball and unleash it, swinging it straight at him.

  It explodes with a thunderous roar. Flames engulf both Zero and my injured dragon in a giant blaze.

  [Player A] | Life: -100%

&n
bsp; [Player B] STRIKES OUT [Player A]

  I ignore the cheers and boos from the audience. Zero’s going to regenerate in no time, and with the way this game’s structured, he might have an unfair advantage again. As the wind whistles past my ears, I yank out an arrow strapped to my back holster and frantically knot the rope at my waist to it. I tie the rope’s other end around my chest. Then I fit the arrow to my bow right as I fall like a stone past the entire herd of dragons. I twist, point my bow up at the nearest dragon to me, and shoot.

  The arrow hits true, lodging in between two scales on a dragon’s chest. Sparks fly from the burn of the arrowhead’s metal against the scales. The beast lets out a roar of annoyance as the rope pulls taut, yanking me to an abrupt halt with it. I pull myself up as quickly as I can as the dragon veers sharply to one side, narrowly avoiding colliding with a glass arch.

  Above me, Zero reappears on the back of his black dragon. Its ice-colored eyes fix on me, and it plunges in my direction just as I swing myself up onto my new dragon’s back. This time, I point my dragon toward the arches.

  “Higher,” I snap, urging it up. It obeys, turning its mechanical head where I want it to.

  Zero’s dragon hurls toward me, its jaws open. It lets out a column of fire. I pull my dragon to one side, just missing it, but some of the flame catches my dragon’s wing, scorching the metal black. I force it into a tight spiral around the arch’s columns.

  “What the hell is she doing?” I can hear a couple of the spectators shouting, their words almost drowned out by the cheers.

  Zero gives chase. He steers his dragon to fly sidelong against mine, avoiding the spiraling pattern that I’m doing. He looks ready to pull in close again and jump onto my dragon’s back.

  I aim for the gently curving top of the glass arch. As I reach it, Zero nears me. I grab my vine power-up in my inventory. If I can lure Zero closer and set it off on him at the right time, it’ll ensnare him in its tangle of thick vines and freeze him there, hanging from the top of the arch. I can leap off my dragon and slide down the tangle of vines to grab his Artifact.

  I glance over my shoulder. He’s drawing closer now, taking the bait. A small smile threatens to creep onto my face. I turn to stare down at the top of the arch. Time to strike—

  Then a flash of light hits me. The world washes out into blinding white. Did the game end? Then I realize a split second later that Zero has used his own power-up on me. A lightning strike. I see the top of the glass arch rushing at me as I fall toward it. I hit it full force, without a chance to even pull up my shield.

  [Player B] | Life: -60%

  WARNING

  I struggle to my feet as Zero walks to me on top of the arch. Hastily, I bring up my vine power-up and point it at him.

  The world around me flickers, like static cutting through the air.

  I blink, frowning. Could everyone see that? Was it just me?

  Zero’s focus is trained on me. As he approaches, he waves his hand in a subtle gesture. The static flickers again. It reminds me of when he took over my view during one of the Phoenix Riders’ championship games, how we both ended up in that dark-red cavern.

  I hold a hand out at him, as if that could possibly stop him. “Wait—” I start to say. “What are you doing—”

  Time for us to stop playing around, Zero says. His words echo in my mind through our Link.

  And in the blink of an eye, the virtual world around us shifts into something else.

  I gasp. It’s my old foster home.

  I’m standing back in those familiar halls, surrounded by peeling yellow wallpaper and slants of gray light. There’s a storm raging, the lights outside stuttering with every streak of lightning, the ground trembling with every roll of thunder. Nearby, one of the doors in the hallway—the girls’ room, my old room—is ajar from where I’d just crept through.

  This is the night when I escaped from the foster home.

  That’s impossible. If I wasn’t sitting in a chair in real life, I’m sure my knees would’ve buckled. My breath comes up shallow.

  How did Zero create this? How did he know? How did he get inside my head, find this memory, and populate this virtual world around me?

  The glitch.

  But when? Did he get in right after I accepted his Link invite, just before we headed into our Duel?

  I can’t hear the roar of the audience anymore, so I can’t tell if they’re also seeing what I’m seeing. Just like the championship game and the red cavern, I’m probably the only one who knows what’s happening to me right now.

  I tremble at the sight of the hall, at the familiarity of this night. Everything looks the same, except somehow exaggerated, like it might appear in a nightmare. The walls are so much taller than they should be, stretching so high that I can barely see the ceiling, and the patterns on the wallpaper ripple in the light, like it’s in motion. When I look down at myself, I realize I’m even wearing the same clothes I’d worn that evening as I made my escape—my worn sneakers, my torn jeans, my faded sweater.

  The same fear from that evening thrums through my veins. The same thoughts race through me. I’d planned every detail of tonight’s escape. Counted down from when I saw the light go out in Mrs. Devitt’s room. Stashed all I could fit into my backpack. The Dragon’s Nest Duel has all but vanished from my mind. Gone are the thoughts of winning our game.

  It’s as if Zero had opened a gate into my soul.

  “Every locked door has a key.”

  I whirl to see Zero standing there in the dark corridor, his armor making him nearly invisible in the midnight shadows of the hall, his face hidden from view behind the opaque helmet. “That’s what you’re telling yourself right now, isn’t it?”

  “Get out of my head,” I growl at him.

  He approaches me, opening one of his hands palm up to reveal a hovering cube, crimson and glossy. “This is the hack—the key to this glitch,” he says. He hands the cube to me.

  “I can’t be here,” I whisper. The sight of the foster home is making it hard for me to catch my breath. “Get me out.”

  Zero shakes his head. “Not until you can do the same to me,” he replies.

  I clench my fists as my fear boils over into anger. “I won’t say it again.”

  “Neither will I.” He stands before me, cold and impassable. “Look in your Memory. Open the cube.”

  Everything around me seems like it’s blurring, spinning in a dizzying circle. I try to concentrate—but then, the old grandfather clock at the end of the hall starts to chime, and the sound of a muffled voice in the kitchen catches my attention.

  My heartbeat quickens. I’m back in that awful place again. I’m fourteen, the clock is chiming two in the morning, and I’m out in the hall, sneakers and backpack on, quivering at the sound.

  I forget that I’m learning a hack. Instead, I bolt away from Zero and run as fast as I can. My shoes catch against the carpet, making me stumble in the same way I’d stumbled that night. Then I’m out of the hall and in the front room of the home, where the main entrance is staring back at me.

  “Hey!”

  A shout behind me makes me look over my shoulder. It’s Chloe, one of my older roommates. Her eyes are focused on my backpack and my shoes as she points a finger at me.

  “Mrs. Devitt!” she yells, raising her voice so that it seems to drown the whole house. “Emika’s running away!”

  I don’t know if it’s because I’m inside my own Memory, but my body does exactly the same thing I did that night. I dart past the kitchen, my eyes on the front door. My legs feel like they’re dragging through mud.

  Then comes Zero’s voice again, but I don’t care what he wants from me anymore. All I need to do is get out of here. If they catch me, I’m dead. As I reach the door, I start to sprint.

  A force tackles me from behind. It’s Chloe, and suddenly her hands
are grabbing for my hair and my throat. We both fall to the floor. I kick blindly out at her, as violently as I can. The lights in the farthest bedroom turn on. We’ve woken up the others.

  My shoe connects hard with Chloe’s face. She lets out a yelp and releases me. “Little bitch!” she spits as she grabs for me again.

  I manage to slip out of her grasp, scramble to my feet, and burst through the door out into a stormy night.

  The grass is so slick that I nearly slip, but I regain my footing in time. The chain-link gate is right in front of me. I slam into it, just as I realize that it’s held shut with a heavy padlock. Panic ripples through me. My hands hook on to the wiring of the chain-link fence and I haul myself up, not caring when a sharp edge on the metal slashes a red line across one of my fingers.

  I crumple in a heap on the other side of the fence, off the property of the foster home. Get up. You can’t be here—they’ll catch you. Behind me, someone emerges from inside the house. They sweep a flashlight beam across the porch. Faint shouts drift to me in the wet air.

  I drag myself up to my feet again and dash down the street. I’m not sure if I’m crying in real life or if this is another figment of the memory. All I know is that eventually I huddle in a doorway, almost able to feel the texture of wet wood grain against my hands as I push against either side of the door in an attempt to steady myself. My fingers curl—my nails dig into the chipping paint on the wood.

  Zero appears on the sidewalk in front of me. Before I can even start thinking about what to do next, he rushes at me with impossible speed.

  Every single instinct I have as a hunter kicks into high gear. I spin out of the way, my arms up in self-defense to protect my face as he lunges at me. He seizes me by my collar before I can run, then yanks me up onto my feet. He brings his face close to me.

  “Calm down and think,” he says angrily.

  The vividness of the Memory shudders, and his words cut through my panic. This isn’t real; you’re not really back here. You’re playing in the Dark World, inside a ghost from your past.