Dusk

Chapter Eight

After my talk with Idris, Alexandra Verdin shows me around the facility. It's a white, barren place, and oddly sterile. Most of it consists of brightly lit hallways with no real doors; the walls just move apart when standing at the correct distance. It's a labyrinth, and it makes me dizzy.

"How do you navigate this place?"

She taps her left ear. "My earpiece feeds me directions. Thank the Chancellor, right? I'd be lost without it."

"Yeah. Thank the Chancellor. Do you even know where you are?" I joke.

I see her pale skin flush under the light of the fluorescents. "It's just an expression."

We walk in silence for a bit. Her eyes dart from wall to wall, her long, shiny ponytail swinging behind her. It hadn't occurred to me that she'd be so short in real life, seeing as the Elites are always said to be towering, white beings- but then again, Ezra isn't exactly tall, either, and he's half-Elite just as Alexandra Verdin is.

Still, she certainly looks more Elite than Ezra does, especially with those strikingly viridian eyes. She walks with a natural, loping grace that I've never seen in real life before, and her limbs, despite her height, are all long and perfectly proportioned. My mind decides to call up the memory of being in the elevator with Ceres, thinking about the reasons why Idris could possibly want to see me. He must have hundreds of beautiful girls at his disposal, including Alexandra Verdin.

I clear my throat as we turn a corner. "So," I begin, my voice thankfully even, "You've been with Idris for a while now, huh?"

She shrugs. "Just for a little over a year."

"All the wanted posters say you're his right hand. Is that true?"

She glances sideways at me, her beautiful eyes regarding me shrewdly, all too aware of my prodding. "It's not. That would be Anden. I'm just very well known. Although," she says, her voice lowering, "Anden's more like a dog than a right hand."

I watch her pink lips curl into a sneer. I raise my eyebrows.

"Do you... not like him?"

"He's not the nicest person I've ever met," she admits. "Not to mention that he looks at me oddly."

"He might just think you're pretty."

She shakes her head. "It's not that type of look. Trust me."

I bite my lower lip. "Does Idris think you're pretty?"

She adjusts one of her long, white sleeves. "He told you, didn't he? How fond of you he is?"

"Huh?" I laugh anxiously. "Yeah, I... I guess."

There's a glint in her eyes when she stops walking, facing the wall to our right. It opens up for us, and a bedroom is within, all of the furniture and walls dressed in shades of grey. It's a utilitarian space not unlike this whole facility.

Alexandra tugs me inside. I gasp a bit, surprised at her strength, before the wall reforms and leaves us together inside.

"You alright?" I ask.

Her eyes move over me. "You could use a bath. Come on."

My hand goes to my hair. "But I've already been washed-"

She pulls at my wrist, leading me towards the bathroom. "Come on."

I let her take me into the bathroom. The door open and shut again, and the first thing she does is wave a hand to turn on the shower. Then the tap. Then a grate in the floor, one I recognize as a body-and-hair dryer, shooting a jet of warm air upwards. The whole room thunders with noise.