by Meli Raine
“I feel it, too,” she murmurs.
“You just said – ”
“The elevation. It's a magnetic – ”
“Pull,” we say in unison.
In the silence that comes next, her eyes rove over my body, calm and slow, the skin of her throat rippling as she swallows.
“It didn't happen to me. Not while you were...” Biting her upper lip, she fades out, eyes catching mine. “While you were doing that.”
“Did you like... that?”
“Are you joking?” A sly laugh slips out of her, luxurious and captivating. “Of course I did.” Moving closer, she reaches for me. “And now, what about you?”
“I'm fine.” My pointed member is now in the opposite direction.
Uncertainty washes over her. “Do you...”
“Not now,” I say, angry and compassionate at the same time. That she considers releasing her inhibitions to be a “break” fuels my fury. That my own mind/body connection took me away from sharing pleasure with her fuels me, too.
The mix of emotion in a body that doesn't know what to do with itself is the worst.
“I need to shower again. That was, um... juicy,” she says with a laugh I adore. It's a sound I want her to make more often. A sound I can elicit if the timing's just right. A crack in the facade we all have to maintain to fulfill our mission: to make the world a better place.
Cracks in facades are permanent. Once something breaks, it can never be unbroken. Whether it shatters, though, depends on too many variables out of our hands.
This one isn't. This one I firmly control.
Joining her in the shower is an appealing thought, but I sense she wants privacy, a few stolen minutes where she can be herself, alone, without even me to emotionally track. Kina's “failure” as a Stateless trainee is exactly that: She tracks people and their emotions. We're all trained to do it, but she takes it much further, intuitively.
She feels what they feel.
Back in a few minutes, she stands before me in a large towel, the top covering her breasts. I'm dressed now, sticky with her juices and enjoying it. I'll shower alone in my room, taking my own pleasure now that we’re out of training and it's permitted, my mind running a loop of what just happened between us.
More is coming, too.
I'll make sure of it.
“Ready?” I ask her.
She nods. The haircut kit is simple, with a series of clippers that attach to a central electric razor. I also bought a pair of scissors and a set of fine-toothed combs.
“I have no idea how to do this,” I confess. “I watched a video online, but that’s it.”
“I didn't know how to orgasm like that an hour ago, but I do now. We're all trainees when we start something new.”
A knife in my chest twists as she says the words, knowing they're for show, knowing what we just had together needed to be tempered by a public face.
The scissors in my hand remain steady as I stare at a picture of Glen in front of Kina. The first cut is a choppy line. I try to work layer by layer, bit by bit. It's only when I frame sections of hair around her face, following the way-oversimplified haircut template from the package, that her sister truly emerges in Kina's features.
For half an hour, I shape Kina into something she is not, using tools to enhance genetics, turning her identity from authentic to false.
And when I'm done, I feel nothing but rage.
Kina is silent as I step back and gesture for her to go into the bathroom. As she showers off the hair clippings, I stare at a wall, eager to punch something. Run at a full sprint. Throw a brick through a window.
Anything to relieve some of this fury.
Empathy for Lily Thornton a few weeks ago, when she was throwing wine bottles at the restaurant wall, suddenly crashes through my body.
I get it. I get it now.
A hair dryer comes on, then stops. Sounds of movement continue, zippers on dress bags, the rustle of paper and packaging. On and off, the faucet runs, then stops.
Paint is applied to a canvas.
An illusion is created.
And then Glen appears.
Just Glen.
“My God,” I say, using the word we're taught never to use, but emotion makes me draw on mass entertainment to convey the enormity.
Her eyes flare at the word God.
“You–you're Glen. You really are her.”
One corner of her mouth snakes up. “Of course I am. You were expecting The Mule?” Bitter laughter burbles out of her, terrifying and haunting.
“I thought this would be the hard part. In a few weeks, after we get you into The Field, we can test this on others.”
“No, Callum,” she says, her face transforming, the way she morphs into Glen a source of pride and anguish inside me, warring for dominance. “The best way to test this is to just do it. Now. I'll go meet Svetnu.”
Before I can say a word, she walks out the door, her heels clicking on the floor, the gait exactly determined, arrogant–
Defiant.
26
Kina
I thought I would shake more.
I knew I could look and act like Glen with ease. We spent most of our childhood playing mirror-image games, and as we've grown older–and apart–I’ve become acutely aware of our differences.
Painfully aware, the night she left nine years ago.
Impersonating her isn't just replicating behaviors and mannerisms, ticking off boxes. It's about inhabiting her skin, her mindset, the piece of her that is my twin and the piece that is my opposite.
Glen is confident because she's afraid.
Glen is condescending because she fears being lesser.
Glen is violent because she worries she'll be a victim.
Glen is powerful because she knows how to make people feel powerless.
Glen is Glen and I am Kina and nothing will change that.
But I can use her characteristics and her weaknesses to get what the children need.
If I'm caught, I'm dead. I have to play this very, very carefully.
On the other hand, if I wait too long, I'll lose my nerve.
Callum's ministrations to me have to be shoved aside as I elevate with intention, sending my mind to a new place, a new level, neither Glen nor Kina.
A new self I have to create in order to make this work.
And if I fail, I die.
If I fail, will the children die, too?
But then, success brings no guarantees, either.
I walk with confidence to Cobalt Hall, where Dr. Svetnu's office is located, forming a clear plan in my mind. If video camera recordings are reviewed and there's no sign of Glen arriving through the main entrace to the compound, I can say “I” found a breach in the fence and tested it. If I'm asked why I would be so stupid as to come, I can lie and say my stupid sister Kina begged me to.
I can throw myself under a bus.
Why not? Glen did it all the time.
Up a set of stairs, down a long hall, the heels making my hips ache by the time I reach his office. My knuckles feel foreign as they rap on the nameplate.
It merely says Private.
“Come in.”
I open the unlocked door to find Marshall Josephs and Dr. Svetnu, huddled over a thick stack of photographs. Astonishment turns to narrowed eyes as Josephs says, “What the hell are you doing here now?”
I could ask the same, but don't challenge him.
Yet.
“Kina called me. Something about training her?” Slipping into Glen's persona is frighteningly easy.
The impromptu lie could implode so easily.
Josephs sneers. “Surprised you came. Since when did you start caring about her?”
“If you're seriously hatching some plot to have her act as my body double, you must both be out of your minds.”
“You always say that about your sister,” Josephs snorts. “You lost objectivity on her a long time ago. If you ever had it in the first place.”
/> Neither man seems bothered by my insult, the lack of reaction a clue to how powerful Glen really is. A fleeting thought rushes through me: Has she slept with both of them? Is that what it takes–sex–to have her kind of power?
Svetnu stands, eyes roaming all over me, his face folding in as he watches. “You are here to train her. How do we know you're not Kina?”
“You think she could imitate me so easily? So quickly?” I laugh, the sound harsh and sharp, just like Glen. “Your plan defies logic, but this is even worse.”
“Prove it,” Josephs says, eyes cutting to Svetnu with an evil wink.
I can't freeze. Can't elevate. Can't pause for even a split second to consider my options.
If I'm Glen, I have to be her fully. Completely.
Corruptly.
Taking a chance, I make a huge, disgusting assumption about my sister.
“You like me to prove everything to your cock, Marshall,” I say, moving like melted butter to his side, my finger riding his tie up from the pin to the knot at the hollow of his throat. Rolls of loose skin pool above his collar like they're waiting to be released, the skin ruddy and rough. I lean into him, hand on his chest, breath on his ear. “I'll get naked again if that's what it takes to show you who I'm not.”
His deep, sex-filled laugh confirms I'm right. Glen really does screw her way through power brokers.
“Later, dear,” he says with an ass pat I can't react to. “Raincheck.”
I treat the comment like a business matter.
Which it is.
Time to move on to the next agenda item.
Boldly catching Svetnu's eye, I don't ask for confirmation that I passed some Glen test. I just move on, which is exactly what she would do.
Move on to insults.
“All my sister cares about are those babies and toddlers. She whines about leaving them. Doesn't want to do this assigned project with me.”
“Maybe she's heard something about the termination.”
I nod. They expect Glen to know what this means. I hold back a shiver.
“She's part of the problem,” Josephs sighs. “The whole compound's compromised now. Between Callum's brother searching for him, and Kina and her crazy ER trip with one of the kids, we're on shaky ground. The newborn project is in high gear, so it's time to cut our losses. The new location is going to be better.”
“How is that project progressing, sir?” I ask, trembling inside. Newborn project?
“It's fine. We have a steady supply now. The Pennsylvania location is discreet. Looks like a forest biology research project. The medical facilities are top notch. We have no more worries about numbers. Of course, we’ll continue to recruit, and our existing assets need to be maintained.”
“Yes.”
“Not the nursery children, though. Too compromised.”
“Sir?” Keeping myself calm is a heroic act.
“The empathy experiment. We consider that to be a mistake. The younger trainees are too soft after Kina’s care. We're restructuring. The newborns that have come in are already gone. Leila's taken care of that.”
What is he talking about? My stomach lurches. What does he mean, gone?
I have to control myself.
I calculate. That leaves seven other children. Seven toddlers and babies who weren't part of the influx of newborns. How do I save them all?
“Yes, sir. Makes perfect sense.” I sneer like Glen, one corner of my mouth going up, ice water running through my veins. “My sister made a mess of that, didn't she?”
He just says, “You need to leave and get back to Bosworth. It's happening tonight.”
Tonight.
My heart shoots through the roof.
“We're pretty sure it's Callum and Kina who are behind the server farm explosion,” Josephs says, but I can tell Svetnu's not convinced. “Double agents.”
“Kina's not smart enough for that,” I try.
“Callum is. And Kina's smarter than you seem to want people to think.” Svetnu is eyeing me in a funny way. My mind spins with a low-grade desperation that makes me think I've been caught.
“I'm definitely no fan of Callum's, but I can't believe he'd double cross Stateless. He helped with the arson at the ranch in Texas. Killed that minister of security in Africa six years ago. And he found his way into the analytics firm that was on the cusp of identifying deep-state shadow networks online and disabled their work.”
Improv is a skill we're taught, taking pieces of information we overhear and weaving them into a narrative we stuff down someone's throat to convince them it's true. I have no idea whether Callum was involved in the ranch fire, but tossing it out there seems to work.
“You sound like your sister. Making excuses for him.”
“No,” I say with more force than I feel. “I’m just pointing out that he's an asset. My sister, on the other hand, is a liability we should have eliminated long ago.”
“You think so?” Josephs asks, tapping a pencil on the photographs. “Why?”
“What you said earlier. She's too soft. And she’s sneaky. Stupid and sneaky. I came because she asked me to, but do you know how I got into the compound?”
Both look bored.
“A hole. The fence. Yet another one. She runs along that fence most mornings, and I suspect someone's disabling video cameras for her so she can dig the holes. That's what you discovered when she and Callum went off compound, no?”
“We filled that.” Dr. Svetnu eyes me. “If you crawled under a hole, why are you so clean?”
“Who said crawled? She snipped the fence. Send a crew now if you don’t believe me.”
Josephs glares at Svetnu. “You said you took care of the breach.”
“Well, you missed one. How many more have you missed? Do I have to do all the thinking here?” I say with a sharp laugh.
Josephs gives Svetnu a damningly casual glance.
Then he turns to me. “It’s not your job to train your sister. Get the hell out of here and back to Washington. Your job is to bring whatever intel you have on Harry. To work with foreign heads of state and get dirt on them.”
“I don't get dirt. I am the dirt,” I retort.
His eyes comb over me head to toe as I plant my hands on my hips and jut one out, doing a hair flip that would make a mean girl proud.
“Yes, you are, Glen. Now go do what you're good at: being a dirty girl.”
“I'd like to make a stop first, here at the compound.”
“Why?”
“To pay someone a, um–” I clear my throat with mock modesty, “–a visit. An intimate visit. If I'm going to collect dirt on someone, why not Callum? It would destroy Kina.”
“We can destroy her in other ways.”
“I get Harry Bosworth to talk in bed. I can get Callum to talk, too.”
“You think you can fuck his secrets out of Callum? I'd love to see that.”
“Well, sir–it'll all be on video. You can review the recordings at will.”
I wink.
I spin on the ball of my foot.
I leave to fulfill my new mission.
With a wicked smile on my face.
For the cameras, of course.
For the cameras.
27
Callum
The jammers are ready.
The second Kina left her apartment, I realized how unpredictable the next few hours truly are. It's life or death for her now, a situation I knew was brewing but thought was months away. Years, even.
I didn't see this coming. I should have, but I didn't.
The urge to stop her, to hold her back, to rescue her, was so extreme as she walked out the door.
They say you can measure a man's courage by what he'll let go of. If that's true, I am courage personified.
Tap tap tap.
My heart explodes in my chest.
The doorknob to my guest suite is a cold bullet as I turn it to find Glen standing there, wearing an evil grin.
And then she kisses
me, full and hard, my core tightening to stay upright as she leans into me like her mission is to kidnap my mouth with her tongue.
“I'm here,” she whispers, stepping back, smooth as can be. “Let's talk.”
Her ass is perfect in the suit pants, the curve and sway of her hips in those heels so seductive. My cock is practically inside her body already. I close the door. We make eye contact.
Hers flare.
A flick of my hand and the light's off, the jammer in my other hand on her wrist in moments. Mine, too.
But if the cameras mean no more kisses like that, I'm in one hell of a double bind.
“Callum,” her voice shakes, all pretense of being Glen vanishing. “They took the children. The newborns are gone. The five to nine year olds are – ”
“Wait. Wait. Slow down.”
“Svetnu. Josephs. I went there to pretend to be Glen. They told me that everyone Kina raised was a failure. The empathy project is halted immediately. Newborns are gone, five to nine year olds gone, older children are considered fine and – ”
“They told you all this?” I'm reeling.
“They did. Callum!” Her voice rises into hysterics. “The children! What have they done to the children?” An explosion of worry turns her into an emotional tornado. “Where is Jaedy? What about Cory?”
“Calm down. Shhhh. Shhhh. Breathe. Just… breathe.”
“How can I breathe when I don’t know if they’re safe? When I know they’re not?” Her voice climbs like an air raid siren.
“If they told you this, it's because you completely fooled them. They really think you're Glen. How?”
“I think they bought it,” she whispers, looking away from me. She's hiding something, I know, but the emotions and the leadership actions are too much to parse right now.
“What was that kiss about?” I demand.
“I told them I was coming here to sleep with you to destroy Kina.”
“Would it destroy you if I slept with your sister?”
“Would it–what?” “Glen” becomes Kina in a split second. “Why would you ask me that, Callum? Have you been ordered to do that?”