She's waking up," someone whispers beside my
bed. "Everyone, play it cool."
I rub my eyes with my knuckles and yawn, peering out. I don't
have my glasses on and everything looks like a blur. My
head's pounding and fuzzy, and I can't think straight, but I'm
pretty sure there aren't supposed to be people in my bedroom.
"Nessa?" I call out sleepily to my roommate. "Why are you
in my room?"
It's quiet for a long moment.
"Is Ne-sir in one of the other pods?" someone asks. It's a
man with a deep voice and a strange accent.
"I don't know," the woman says again, impatient. "Do I look
like a motherfucking pod whisperer? I know just as much as
you do." A hand reaches out and grabs mine, squeezing it. Oh
god, it feels burning hot—either that or I'm really cold.
Actually, come to think of it, it is really cold in my room. My
toes are freezing. I curl them automatically and wonder why I
don't have any blankets.
"Honey, listen carefully," the woman tells me. She leans in
closer and I see it's a blonde woman in a parka, her eyes a
vivid, glowing green. She's pretty, in an athletic, weathered,
spends-too-much-time-outdoors sort of way. I don't know
anyone like that. My people are more library people. Must be
one of Nessa's jogging friends. She squeezes my hand
again. "I don't want you to be alarmed, all right? You're safe
here. We're the good guys."
"Where's Nessa? How come she let you in my room?" I
frown, trying to pull my hand away from the woman. "Did you
turn down the heat?"
"I think she's still groggy," another woman says in a quiet
voice. "Should we have her drink something?"
The blonde woman moves away and turns into a blur. I can't
see farther than a few feet ahead of me without my glasses,
and everything else seems to be moving back out of range.
There's a lot of black moving at the edges of my vision, and I
squint, but nothing comes into sight. Annoyed, I lean over the
edge of my bed and fumble for my glasses on the nightstand—
Except there's no nightstand. Or glasses.
And when I roll over, I realize I'm not in bed. My face
smushes up against something that feels like a wall, and I
realize about two seconds later that I'm naked.
Is…this one of those bad dreams where you're naked at the
mall? Or in class? I squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to re-route my dream. Happy thoughts, Lo. Think happy thoughts.
Except, my dream doesn't seem to be changing. I cautiously
open one eye again and a blurry black face—and horns? Are
those horns?—looms into view. "Is she well?"
I bite back a scream, shrinking down against my bed. I push
back only to feel my shoulder on the opposite side hit a wall,
too. Two narrow walls and I'm naked… Am I in a coffin?
"Am I dead?" I cry out, horrified. I squint at the big black-horned face. "Oh my god, are you devils? Am I in hell?"
"Only if it's frozen over," says the blonde. "Yuk, yuk."
"Zoe," scolds the other woman. "Be nice." A new face looms
into view, and I can just barely make out a pale face and
carroty red hair and another pair of crazy-red eyes. A soft,
furry blanket is handed to me. "Wrap up in this. I'm Theodora.
Don't be alarmed. We're the good guys. I promise."
Good guys? Does that mean there are bad guys? "W-where am
I? Why am I naked?"
The blonde bites down on her knuckle. "So. Many. Jokes. I
can't. I just can't, though."
"You're safe," the redhead says again.
"Maybe we should have planned a speech," the blonde
continues. "Like, Smurf you very much, welcome to our
village!"
"Zoe!"
"I couldn't help it!"
"What?" I whisper. I press a hand to my throbbing forehead.
Am I…high? Roofied? I am way too confused.
"Zoe is just making things worse," the redhead says and moves
closer to my side. She looms in and her face is pale and
freckled but friendly. She, too, looks a little weathered and
she's also wearing a furry parka. "Okay. You're not at home,
um…what did you say your name was again?"
"Maylissa," I tell her. "But everyone calls me May. Have you seen
my glasses?"
"Hi, May. I'm Theodora. This is Zoe." She points at the blonde
blur at her side. "And I hate to break it to you, but you've been
kidnapped by dragons."
"Um, Dragons?" I squint. Now I'm wondering if they're the ones
that are high.
"Not these dragons," Harlow reassures me quickly, waving a
hand. Another black form shifts in the background and
someone walks—oh god, those black things are people? Really,
really big people? With horns? I'm not dreaming that? "We're
the rescue team."
"The good guys," Liz chirps. "Welcome to your new home.