Joan the Made (Throwbacks Series Book 1)

by Kristen Pham

  I’ve given some thought to how to hide the weapon I take with me, and I attach the Taser to a strap that wraps around my biceps, so the slim metal weapon nestles in my armpit. Even if the headmaster decides to pat me down, he’s unlikely to notice it there.

  “Does this mean I can count on you not to tell the others?”

  She nods. “Remember, even though you’re going into this mission by yourself, you’re not alone. Everyone may yell at you after this, but we’ll be here for you whether you succeed or fail.”

  Marie’s words soften something hard inside me, and I surprise myself by giving her a brief, tight hug. “Thank you.”

  Goose bumps break out on my arms. The headmaster is standing in the shadows outside the Little Theater, staring at me. His cold eyes travel down my body, assessing me like a car he’s considering purchasing.

  “That is not the dress I sent you,” he says, a muscle at his temple pulsing.

  “This costume will help me fetch a higher price. Everyone wants to ravish the innocent,” I say, flicking a strand of shiny hair behind my shoulder. “We’re partners in this, remember? I’m not your slave.”

  “You will curb that attitude before I introduce you to my friends, or this ends right now,” the headmaster says.

  He fingers the whip on his belt, and when I flinch away, my response isn’t faked. He narrows his eyes, watching me, and I remember that I’m supposed to be high on Amp. I adopt a little twitch in my pinkie and nod as if I’m listening to a beat in my head only I can hear. My performance seems to satisfy him, for now.

  “Come,” he commands, holding out his arm for me to take.

  When my body makes contact with his, my nerves recede. It reminds me of walking onto the stage in high school during debate tournaments. Backstage, I would be pacing, and sometimes my hands would shake. But when it was time to perform, everything inside me would go still.

  The headmaster’s legs are longer than mine, and I have to strut faster to keep up in my high-heeled boots. We turn the corner, and a black car is waiting for us. The door opens automatically, and he shoves me inside.

  “I’d forgotten how beautiful the Joans are when they’re made up properly,” Lexi White says, and it takes an enormous effort not to let my shock show on my face.

  My terror spikes. She’s smarter than the headmaster. I’m going to have to act the shit out of this encounter, or she’ll guess my true motives. But it’s also an opportunity. This could be a chance to get proof that would put the Darwin of Strand away for a long time. I give her my sugariest Sweet Lil’ Joanie smile, and she narrows her eyes. She’s not buying what I’m selling.

  “She’s acceptable,” the headmaster says.

  “Search her,” Lexi demands.

  The headmaster narrows his eyes in surprise, but he does as she asks. I imagine the time I visited this beach in Florida with my parents. When the sun rose, it was like watching the sea be set on fire. A distant part of my mind knows the headmaster’s hands are on me, sliding up my legs and between my breasts, but I hang on to that memory of peace until it’s over.

  His hands slide down my arms last, and clinging to the image of the ocean ablaze in light is almost impossible, as my fear tries to swallow it up. But he doesn’t come near my armpits, where the Taser is pressed tightly against my skin.

  “Sloppy,” Lexi says, and my ocean image shatters.

  Oh God. She’s going to search me, find the Taser, and retire me on the spot. Lexi shoves up my dress and plucks my phone from my garter, where it’s strapped to my inner thigh.

  “You’re taking my phone?” I ask, allowing a fraction of my anger to seep into my words.

  “I thought she’d learned to speak only when asked a question,” Lexi says to the headmaster, not acknowledging me.

  “So had I,” the headmaster says.

  “Is she obedient? Or will she rebel and embarrass us at the worst possible moment? Don’t let your greed cloud your judgment,” Lexi says.

  “She’ll comply. She’s tasted what’s in store for her if she disobeys,” the headmaster says.

  “Good. This is my network I’m allowing you to tap into tonight, and I expect you to provide an excellent product.”

  “For a cut of the excellent profits, of course,” the headmaster says, his tone as sharp as Lexi’s.

  The car stops at a tall, sleek building. Everything is white, from the doors to the polished stone walls. The headmaster pulls me inside, where the white theme continues. White floors, walls, decor.

  “Too obvious of a venue?” the headmaster asks Lexi.

  “Fitting for tonight’s entertainment,” Lexi says, nodding her approval.

  Lexi leads us into a ballroom, and my stomach takes a dive when I see that it’s packed with at least a hundred Evolved, mostly men.

  I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, subtly turning on the camera in my hair clip. The general noise dims to a murmur as everyone notices my arrival on the headmaster’s arm. Hundreds of eyes linger on my body.

  I’d expected a crowd tonight, but not this mob that’s waiting for me. Panic steals my breath. I’m out of my league.

  As we move to the center of the room, where a raised platform awaits me like an auction block, some of the men graze my ass with their hands. My vision shrinks to a point, almost closing altogether.

  To distract my panicking mind, I go over my plan step by step, reminding myself what’s at stake tonight. It’s all up to me. There’s no Harriet or Sun waiting in the wings in case I fail.

  Tonight, I’ll succeed or fail on my own terms. Time to find out which one it will be.

  Chapter 40

  The headmaster and Lexi chatter with some of the well-dressed men as we cruise the room. Sticking close to the headmaster, I carefully turn my head so that the camera in my hair clip gets a good shot of each of their faces with my camera.

  All of the words are buzzing in my ears, unintelligible. I turn on a dazzling smile and nod whenever anyone asks me anything. Everyone thinks I’m high, so my performance isn’t watched with critical eyes.

  Some common clone types, including Macs, Mollys, and a few Sofias, weave through the crowd with plates, delivering fancy food to rich Evolved mouths. An aging Mac with silver hair and rough hands stops beside me. His shrewd but gentle eyes are familiar, but with all of the adrenaline pumping through me, it’s impossible to remember where we met.

  “Give them a taste of hell,” he whispers.

  His words help me shake off my stupor. “I will.”

  “Seen, not heard,” the headmaster says to me, and I nod and lower my eyes.

  He leads me to a raised platform, and I step onto it. Wine has been flowing for an hour now, and the crowd is laughing louder, behaving more like they’re at a strip club than a fancy party. There are some whistles when everyone notices me on display.

  I swallow my curses and perform a slow spin. They think I’m showing off my body, but really I’m letting the camera get a good sweep of the entire room. The whistling gets louder.

  “Friends, I’d like to introduce you to Dr. Julius Hunter,” Lexi says, her voice amplified when she steps into a circle lit by a spotlight. I turn my head so my camera captures her words. “Half of the proceeds from tonight’s auction go to funding research at Strand. Together, we will ensure that Evolved Americans lead the world in innovation. Please be generous with your bids, and know that you are not only securing a night of pleasure, but the future of our country.”

  Polite applause follows Lexi’s words, and the headmaster takes her place in the spotlight.

  “Tonight, I bring to you a delicacy rarer than a diamond and utterly untouched. Centuries ago, Joan of Arc burned at the stake. But tonight, she will burn for one of you. Joan of Arc will no longer be Joan the Maid. One man in this room will make her a woman. The bidding begins at one million dollars.”

  Auctions typically involve electronic displays where participants place their bids, but here, they shout numbers so fast that I can�
��t keep track. The auction must be going well because Lexi’s smile continues to widen and spots of color bloom on the headmaster’s pale face.

  The bidding goes on for longer than I expected, and my leg cramps. Who knew that I’d thank Gene for his lesson on forcing our muscles to remain relaxed, in spite of our bodies being in pain? Focusing on the pain is a welcome distraction from my growing fear as I watch the crowd of drunken men shouting their bids. They’re ready to tear me off the platform and haul me away over their shoulders.

  Eventually, the shouting gets less intense, and the headmaster shouts, “Sold! To Adam Omni!”

  Sour acid rises in my gorge as the room erupts into applause. The headmaster helps me down from the platform, and I swallow my nausea. He leads me to a man in his fifties with a balding head, who towers over me. His eyes widen as he gets an up-close view of my cleavage.

  “One word with her first,” Lexi says. “Joan, if there is no blood on the sheets, there will be no deposit in your account.”

  “No need to worry about that, Lex,” Adam says, his arm winding around my waist. I fight my instinct to wrench myself from his grasp as his fingers caress my side. “I’ll make sure she performs as expected.”

  “One last touch. Time to let your hair down,” Lexi says.

  She pulls out my hair clip, and my curls tumble around my shoulders. I reach for the clip, but Adam winds his fingers in my loose hair, and I’m pinned to his side. Moving away from him now will be suspicious.

  Lexi pulls me in for a hug, and my mind spins, confused at her strange gesture and terrified of losing that hair clip. All my proof of what happened tonight is in her hand. Without it, this nightmare of an ordeal is pointless.

  The Taser strapped to my underarm slips. I’m too late, and too stunned, to react when I see it shining in Lexi’s hand. When she backs away from me, our eyes meet, and hers narrow. Her smile turns vicious. She knows what I’m planning. She’s known all night, maybe longer.

  “Have fun, Adam,” she says to the giant drooling all over me.

  I try to wriggle out of his grasp, and he releases a low laugh before tossing me over his shoulder. I start screaming at the top of my lungs. My plan is over. I have to get out of here now.

  The men around me shake their heads like I’m a naughty child who took too much Amp, before returning to their conversations. I manage to kick Adam in the gut, and he drops me, releasing a moan of pain.

  “No wonder they burned Joan of Arc alive,” he snarls. “You’re such a bitch, I’m tempted to kill you myself. But not before I get what I paid for.”

  I leap up, but I don’t make it more than a couple of steps before the headmaster’s laser whip lashes across my legs. I scream again.

  “You’ll do what you’re told,” he hisses.

  “Please, Dr. Hunter, no.”

  Lexi watches us. Her expression is curious, but clinical, as if she’s noting my reactions for future analysis. Ever the scientist.

  I release my pride, my plans, my hopes. Everything except my survival instinct leaves me. There is no Amp in my system. If that sick, lumbering creep who bought me for tonight gets me alone, I’ll die from the contact. I kneel in front of the headmaster, like I swore I’d never do again.

  Tears burn my cheeks. “Please, help me get out of here. I’ve changed my mind.”

  “You Knockoffs are all alike. No backbone.”

  He lashes out with his whip again, this time striking my neck. It’s a calculated move because he hits a nerve that renders me twitching on the ground. The headmaster hauls me to my feet and shoves me back to Adam.

  “Teach her how to behave,” he says.

  “Every filly just needs to be broken,” Adam growls, before slinging me back over his shoulder and hauling me out of the ballroom.

  Pins and needles race along my arms and legs, but all I can manage is a few weak kicks that he slaps away as he takes me to the elevator in the lobby.

  Adam doesn’t see the silver-haired Mac standing beside the elevator with a cart loaded with dishes. He’s as invisible as the rest of the furniture. So Adam doesn’t see it coming when the Mac steps into the elevator behind us and smashes his cart into Adam’s back with as much force as he can muster.

  Adam drops me as he folds over with a grunt of pain, and the Mac follows up with a powerful blow to his head, using the silver lid on one of the platters.

  “Keep him distracted,” the Mac barks at me.

  I stand on my spaghetti legs and knee Adam in the crotch before he’s fully recovered from the blow to his head. The Mac opens a panel below the manual elevator buttons. It’s a mess of wires. What is he doing?

  I punch Adam in the face, throwing all of my body weight behind the hit. It’s solid, and his nose snaps with a satisfying crack beneath my fist. A distant part of my brain registers the pain in my hand from the punch, and I cradle it to my chest as blood pours out of Adam’s nostrils. He takes a swipe at me, but the elevator abruptly stops moving up and then plummets down.

  Adam stumbles, and I kick him in the face. His gigantic size works against him in this small space, and he crashes into the side of the elevator. The Mac elbows him in the head with practiced efficiency, and Adam stops struggling, unconscious.

  The elevator doors open.

  “I don’t know why you helped me, but thank you.”

  “Run,” the Mac replies, shoving me out of the elevator. “Take the yellow car.”

  Before I can ask him what he means, the elevator doors close. He dropped me off in an underground garage. It’s a fancy hotel, so the cars are all transported to their parking spots on moving platforms.

  A blur of yellow makes its way toward me, and I hurry after it on my still wobbly legs. Part of me knows it would be wiser to find my own way out of the garage, but I trust the Mac who saved me. I catch up to the car and wrench open the door.

  Justus is behind the wheel, but he keeps his eyes on the road. As soon as the door closes behind me, the car zooms off. He’s driving it manually, and his right hand manipulates the gear shaft with ease.

  We careen out of the garage and into the traffic grid. Justus breaks speed limits as he peels down the empty, dark streets. The muscles in his arms are tense, but his movements are confident.

  “How—” I begin to ask him.

  “Not now,” he cuts me off.

  He stops the car with a slight screech of the tires in front of my dorm.

  “Go get your stuff and get back here as fast as you can. In a matter of hours, everyone will be looking for you—the headmaster, the police, Strand.”

  The consequences of my mistakes tonight run through my head as I hurry inside. Returning to my life as a student at Seattle Secondary isn’t an option now that Lexi has my phone, hair clip, and Taser. I’ve practically handed her the keys to finding the rebellion. But far worse is the danger I’ve put my family and friends in. Lexi promised that they would be the ones who paid for my mistakes.

  Reining in my guilt, I force my mind to think logically. I’ll get Harriet, Maverick, and Sparkle, and we’ll hide out in the Chrysalis until Circe Night. Or the Lab, if Crew kicks me out of the rebellion for my mistakes tonight. If that’s what he decides, I’ll accept it without complaint.

  Instead of waiting for the creaky old elevator, I race up the stairs to my floor. When I burst into the hall, I hear pounding. It’s Maverick, hitting the door to my room with his small fists.

  “Let me in, Sparkle! Please! I have your dinner, like you asked,” he pleads.

  Harriet is with Mav, murmuring in a soothing tone. He ignores her. Harriet’s eyes connect with mine. Something is wrong. My entire body shakes, as if it’s figured out what’s behind the door to my room before my eyes have seen it. I wrap my arms around Mav, who stills, his face streaming with tears. He knows, too.

  “Go, now, with Harriet. She’ll take care of you. You both need to go somewhere hidden, safe.”

  “I’m staying with you,” he says in a tiny voice. “I promised to
watch over Sparkle, and I messed up. But she’s okay, isn’t she, Joan?”

  I hug him tightly but don’t answer. Harriet leads him away from my room, any questions she might have about my night with the headmaster left for another time. When they disappear inside the elevator, I press my palm to the pad to unlock the door.

  It’s dark inside. I tell myself that Sparkle is in the shower or didn’t want to see anyone or is listening to loud music. But the excuses turn to ash in my mouth when I see her hanging by her neck from her belt, strung up in the shower.

  My throat closes, so my scream is silent. As I frantically pull her down, the weight finally pulls the shower rod from its braces, and it comes crashing down on us. I turn her and begin to clear her airway and pound her chest, breathing into her mouth. My breath makes her chest rise each time, and I try to ignore the voice in my head that says she’s dead. I’ll force life back into this cold shell of my friend.

  I’m Joan of Fucking Arc. I’m entitled to a miracle.

  Chapter 41

  Someone’s moving around in my room, but I can’t turn away from my task. Robotically, I continue delivering CPR to Sparkle’s still form. As long as I keep going, her chest keeps rising. She keeps breathing. She isn’t dead until I let her be.

  Harriet’s arms are gentle but firm as she pulls me back.

  “Not yet.”

  “You’ve been at that for too long, Joan,” Harriet says. “You have to go.”

  I shake my head. Her words don’t make sense. I just found Sparkle. I have to save her. I lean back over Sparkle’s body to begin again.

  Sparkle’s body.

  Not Sparkle. Not anymore.

  She’s dead.

  I failed her. Again. For the last time.

  I rock back on my heels as the truth spreads through my mind like a cancer. There’s an ocean of tears trapped somewhere inside of me, but they’ll come later. Now there are only dry gasps as I try to draw air into my lungs.

  “The headmaster is looking for you, Joan,” Harriet says.

  I’m dizzy. The headmaster. Lexi White.