Daiyu lifted her helmet and adjusted her collar before fitting it over her head. And in an instant she was something other to me, something less human. It was hard to believe there was an almost-normal girl beneath the glass. A smart one with a sense of humor.

“I’ll have to give you the sleep spell again,” I said apologetically.

“No. Blindfold me if you have to.”

“I can’t risk it. I’ve added something so you’ll forget.” I could see her eyes widen in panic, even with her helmet on. “Not everything. Just the past twenty-four hours.”

She shook her head. “Please don’t.”

But I took her hand, was already pulling her to the door. “It’s safer for us both if you don’t remember anything. Trust me.” I felt stupid the moment I uttered the last words.

We were out in the muggy humidity of the late afternoon again. It would take a few hours at least to walk to the mountain’s base, and by then, night would have fallen. Even if I were abandoning the lab, I still couldn’t risk her remembering this place, remembering me.

The sunlight glinted off her helmet, and I was glad I couldn’t see her features clearly as I tugged her to me. She resisted, but I was stronger. So she stepped forward instead, bunching the fabric of my shirt in one hand.

“But I want to remember,” she said.

I grabbed her wrist. Stuck the syringe into her open palm. Its hiss seemed too loud to my ears.

“We all do,” I whispered and caught her as she fell.

CHΔPTER TWO

TWO MONTHS EARLIER

A storm was going to hit, the first big one this spring, and I could sense the anticipation: in the tension from those around me, in the stillness of the dark clouds that swelled overhead. I slipped through the crowds in Ximending. Dusk, and the air in Taipei was cold and brisk. Three girls swept past, chattering, swathed in nervous energy, eyes bright above their face masks. One clutched a fuchsia umbrella and its tip tapped against my shin as I dodged out of their way.

I glanced over my shoulder a few times to be sure I wasn’t being followed. After five years living mostly on the streets on my own, I was used to watching my back. But Arun had warned us that his mom, Dr. Nataraj, might be under surveillance. She didn’t know by whom.