Code: Veronica
Page 19
Chapter Eighteen
THE BOY WAS DEAD, BUT THE GIRL WASN'T. And now the young man was trying to destroy Alexia's home, and it wasn't a game or an experiment or some - thing to observe, he had to die, in pain and misery. How had he dared to consider such a thing? He should be on his knees in front of her, a worthless supplicant for her to do with as she wished, how dare he? Alexia saw the siblings walking away from their treacherous deed, felt them wishing to leave as the auto - mated sequence began, lights and sounds flashing, sys - tems shutting down throughout the terminal. Their perfidy was useless, of course. She would be able to stop the destruct sequence with a minimum of effort, using her control over the organic to sever every con - nection in the facility, but it was the thought behind the act that so infuriated her. He had witnessed the glory of her capabilities, he had seen it and fled in terror. . . and yet he could fancy himself worthy to take a life such as hers? Alexia gathered herself, drawing all of her power in, becoming complete. She knew that the young man had picked up a weapon that had been sitting next to the keyboard, a revolver that someone had left behind. She didn't object, knowing that the firearm would give him hope, and that for a victory to be complete, the victor had to take everything. She would take his hope, she would take his sister's life and then she would take his. When she was whole, she imagined herself becoming liquid, traveling through the structure of her surroundings as easily as the organic extensions she controlled, and then she was doing so, moving to confront the interlopers. They were startled, as if they'd expected to succeed. She slid out from inside her organic carrier, unfolding herself, turning to look into their dull eyes, their winc - ing sheep's faces. She watched them watch her, curious in spite of her anger. They argued in front of her, he insisting that he would "handle" things, that the girl should flee. The girl ac-cepted, but reluctantly, insisting in turn that he should survive. Following that ludicrous statement, the girl turned and ran for the elevator. Alexia moved to intercept, raising her hand to smite the girl. . . . . . and a perforation opened in her flesh, distracting her. A bullet had entered her body. She turned and smiled at him, at the gun in his hand, and reached into herself, pulling the bullet out and tossing it toward him. As gratifying as his expression was, the girl was gone by the time she turned back. It was time to expand her boundaries, Alexia decided. To show him what she was, what she could do. . . and to put the fear of God into him, because as she closed her eyes, imagining, wishing, she stopped being Alexia Ashford and became Wrath, divine and merciless.