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“How do I get out of here?”
I demanded.
    “Aya can
show you back to your quarters,” Julian said, and began walking
me back through the library to the double doors.

7
Mnemosyne’s
Head

    {Anonymous}

    I wake up on the
floor of the kitchen. Adam is crouching above me, the back of his
hand to my forehead, backlit by the overhead lights. His face is
fuzzy. Everything is fuzzy. I try to sit up; the room starts spinning
and I feel nauseated.
    “She’s
still drugged,” he says. “Maybe I should have let her
sleep.”
    Aya appears next
to him. “Can you stand?” she asks me.
    I try to focus my
eyes. Didn’t she just get shot? She looks fine...
    “Aya’s
an illusionist,” Adam says. “That was a trap, a mass
hallucination.”
    A what? What the
hell?
    “I’ll
carry her out to the car,” Aya says.
    Adam nods and
stands up.
    Aya slides her
little arms underneath my neck and the crook of my knees. “Hold
on to my neck, okay?”
    I comply. I close
my eyes as she picks me up to avoid making the nausea worse.
    She carries me out
into the cold night air. “I’m going to set your feet down
so I can open the door,” she says, and then she does.
    I open my eyes and
find myself looking at her arm. It’s so thin. How can someone
with such thin arms be so strong?
    She opens the
passenger side door and helps me climb in to the front seat. “Just
close your eyes and rest, okay?” she says. “See if you
can get some more sleep.”
    I nod, but I have
no intention of listening to her. I don’t want to sleep. I
don’t want to be Adam again. I don’t like drinking blood
through his lips.
    Aya closes the
door to the car and leaves me. The three of them start carrying
things to the car and loading them in the trunk.
    “Just dump
anything we can afford to replace,” Haruko says. “We got
the head?”
    “Yes,”
Adam says.
    “Are you
sure?” she asks.
    “I’m
quite sure. Let’s go.”
    Someone slams the
trunk shut. Adam and Haruko get in the back seat. I watch them
through the rear-view mirror, just to keep myself awake. Haruko
reaches up across me, opens the glove compartment, and pulls out a
road map.
    “Did you
find anything to eat?” Adam asks.
    “No. Why?”
She turns the overhead light on and unfolds the map.
    “I think I
gave her too much,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m
right on the edge.”
    “God damn
it,” Haruko mutters.
    “I won’t
ask you again, I promise.”
    She sighs. “Fine.
But make it quick.”
    Adam pushes
Haruko’s glossy black hair off her shoulders and holds it at
the nape of her neck. He brings his mouth to her throat, and—I
look away, horrified.
    Aya climbs into
the driver’s seat, starts the car, and pulls out of the gravel
driveway. I fumble for my seat belt, fasten it, and stare out the
window. Aya accelerates; the trees whip by. She says nothing. She
doesn’t even seem to notice.
    I glance back into
the mirror and catch a glimpse of Haruko’s face. Her eyes are
closed; her lips are parted.
    I look away again.
    Soon the hum of
the engine and the gentle vibration of tires on asphalt start to send
me into the twilight state between waking and sleep. I can hear the
three of them talking as if through layers of cotton, but I can’t
hold on to the words.
    My half-sleep is
restless and wracked with pain. My stomach has begun demanding food
again, and my muscles are sore with fatigue. My chest wound still
aches mercilessly.
    After some time I
feel the car slow and then stop. I blink my eyes into focus, peel my
cheek away from the car window and look outside. We’re at a
decaying strip mall, anchored by a dead grocery store, its painted
concrete exterior eroding and mottled with incoherent graffiti.
    “Pull around
back,” says Haruko. “I’ve got an access code for
the employee entrance.”
    We roll through
the pothole-ridden parking lot and past a bank of dumpsters to the
back entrance. Aya pulls into a parking space, puts the car in
neutral and yanks on the parking