THE LIMINAE CODE: GHOST IN THE MACHINE SNEAK PEAK: CHAPTER 1 BY AVIVA CHAPTER 1 Freya didn’t hurl her phone at the smiling woman on the holo-screen across from her in the subway. Public vandalism wouldn’t solve anything. Though ... it couldn’t make things any worse. Freya watched in horror as an implant-enhanced Daem woman hosting one of fifteen generic Nue-York morning shows introduced her guests, Clarissa Westord, and Malakai Talareh. Clarissa—or Riss, as she was known to Freya—lounged on the couch in whatever studio they were filming the segment in. A stylist had coiffed her ice-blonde hair to within an inch of its brittle life. Riss’s blood-red lips wore a cold, self-satisfied smile that sank its claws into Freya’s skin. And why wouldn’t she be smiling? Now, she’s got everything she ever wanted. Freya clasped her bag strap more tightly. Malakai’s self-assured posture beside Riss drew the kind of attention only someone of his status could command. Riss had clawed her way out of the gutter, getting involved with Malakai, the poster bad-boy son of one of the Daem’s most elite families. Now she had straightened him out and was taking credit for YourPast, a groundbreaking technology that let all species, mainly Daem, the demigods, explore their ancestry. My groundbreaking technology. Freya shifted her bag on her shoulder, trying to suppress the simmering rage that had become her base state these past months. Even though she’d woken up early and promised herself that she would do better. She’d even selected a white shirt instead of her usual all-black wardrobe, something different to mark a month of steady employment. Of course, this had to be on air during her commute, making “optimistic, cheerful Freya” a distant hope. ‘That’s why I believe demigods should have the chance to connect with their divine roots. Identity, after all, is the foundation for each of our unique individual essences. That’s why YourPast is going to change our world. It’s more than a business—it’s a legacy,’ Riss said, each word cutting through the rattling subway carriage with practised confidence. Malakai nodded like a well-behaved pup beside Riss on the red couch before adding, It just came out of nowhere, y’know? We were tossing around ideas after a late dinner. Riss—Clarissa had this spark of an idea, and I was like, “Yes, babe, we have to do this.” I mean, it’s in my blood, right? So we headed to Angel Cy to set up a lab at the BioNova headquarters. Freya clenched her teeth and focused on her clipcomm, staring at the dull screen. Forget it. She knew it wasn’t worth letting Riss get to her. She just needed to get through today—and then tomorrow—each day, one at a time. Her fingers had other ideas as they started tapping out a message to Riss on her clipcomm. You know what you’re doing is wrong. You’ll regret this. Her thumb pressed “authorise message” before she could stop herself. ‘No.’ She shook the comm as if that would undo her stupidity. ‘No, no, no.’ The system hasn't been able to deliver your message. A wave of relief washed over her before something clicked. Riss had blocked her? The subway doors hissed open, and a rush of bodies surged forward. Someone trod on Freya’s foot. She yelped. ‘Watch it, lim,’ a tall Daem man growled, shouldering her aside. Her comm slipped from her hand, crashing onto the floor. Before she could grab it, the carriage jerked, causing a liminae woman with lime green implants on her temples to totter. Freya froze, horrified, as the woman's heel came down hard on her comm, shattering the screen. ‘Oops. My bad. They’re just about to do a close-up,’ the woman said without breaking eye contact with the holo-screen. Freya crouched to pick up the broken comm, careful not to spill the contents of her bag. ‘Don’t worry about it. It was already broken,’ but the woman was zoned into the interview. ‘Not that broken,’ the Daem man said over his shoulder. Freya spun around, ready to snap, but then froze. She knew what was about to happen. She didn’t know how she knew, but she was certain it wasn’t just a guess. That clear, undeniable tang of certainty. More than déjà vu. The Daem’s coffee. The lid popped off—the arc of liquid sailing toward her. Her brain yelled at her to move, but her feet wouldn’t cooperate. Time resumed, and reality moved on. The train jolted. Freya lost her footing, her mouth falling open as hot, milky liquid arched toward her and splashed across her white shirt, soaking the fabric. Warmth spread from her neck to the tips of her slightly pointed ears, which revealed her liminae heritage. ‘What a waste,’ the Daem man said, staring into his now empty cup. Not a single drop of coffee had splattered on him. Of course not. Freya clenched her bag strap and turned away, only to catch her eye returning to the holo-screen. Riss was still smiling, her bright white teeth shining. Brainstorming with my brilliant fiancé, we thought it was about time someone did something for the everyday Daem …’ When the subway doors finally buzzed open, Freya let the crowd sweep her off the train. Coffee-stained and seething, she trudged forward, dissolving into the Nue-York morning rush, her mind still reeling.