way from the grandeur of the city center. It smelled of recycled air, cheap no

y, reached the door to her own small pod. Just as she w

out. It was Zoe Foster, her neighbor, who

. "Clara! You're back! Judging by th

ched Clara's lips. She nodded. "Yeah. I l

rtment, which was just as small as Clara's but decorated with c

pushing Clara onto a small sofa. "

ank files. The frustration that had been simmering inside he

she said

ucers. "N-nine? Oh my gods, Clara! You

"I have no idea. The files were

ened at the Registry. Zoe's

de. It must mean they're all incredibly high-level. That's the

hey'll have your information by now. Someone is

pe Clara was clinging to. Sure

The first thing she did was take a long, hot shower, letting the steaming wa

soft robe, she final

hrough the list of nine names again and again, the syllables feeling foreign

wa

silence in her tiny apartmen

nal remai

requests. No me

had buoyed her began to sink, replaced

felt even a flicker of curiosity about the wom

before, to the one thing she possessed that was truly her own, a skill that

ore. But she knew it could be art. It co

nd partly as an act of defiance. If they wouldn't come to her, she would

resh ingredients, traded for at exorbitant prices with the spoils of her hunt

th an old, familiar grace. The small space soon filled with an aroma that was utterly alien to

She waited for the chime that might, at any