Meet Abby Banks VOLUMES: 1-3

by J. A. Cipriano

  I bounced once on the hard mattress, and a predatory gleam swam beneath the surface of his eyes. My heart went haywire as I scooted myself backward on the bed, kicking up the sheets as panic distilled everything into jerky movements.

  “Don’t worry, Abby,” he said, licking his lips before leaning back and putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m not going to have my way with you.”

  I stopped moving, heat rising across my cheeks as the panic was replaced by embarrassment because I was pretty sure that trying to do something bad to me in the middle of Gabriella’s base was a death sentence. I sighed trying to think of way to ask him about Stephen, and more importantly, whose side he was on.

  “I can see thoughts flashing through your eyes, flitting to and fro like tiny fish beneath the waves,” he said, taking a step toward the bed so that his legs were resting against the edge. “Care to share?”

  “No,” I choked, my throat closing up so that the word was a sort of half-shriek. That had been my chance to ask him and I’d blown it. Why? Because I was scared he’d tell me the truth. That he was a traitor and that Stephen was dead. As long as he didn’t come out and say it, I could hang onto the last shred of hope that Stephen was still alive and coming to save me.

  “Look, Abby,” he said, suddenly serious as he sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him. “Esmeralda and the rest of them are liars. What Gabriella told you is true. Well, at least as far as the whole, only your biometrics will control her system when she dies, thing is,” he waved his hand dismissively, “I’m not sure about the whole nepotism thing, though. That seems a little crazy.” He grinned at me, flashing his perfect teeth. “The idea that there’s a secret society of elites governing our every move is, to put it bluntly, insane.”

  “You work for a secret government agency that kidnaps children and fosters them in a fake town,” I said, looking at the spot beside him. Did he honestly think I was going to sit next to him? After he shot my mom in the gut and left her to die? “And right now, you seem like a traitor.”

  “Yes, and because of that, I know just how inept our government is. Yeah, they can hide secrets and things, but what goes around is mostly happenstance and poor planning. There’s corruption sure, but it’s mostly harmless.” Donovan shrugged, and his golden hair bobbed around his face.

  “Mostly harmless,” I repeated. “Gabriella de la Mancha just nuked two major cities. She’s going to firebomb a dozen others and unleash small pox on even more. All because they are ‘mostly harmless?’” I asked, making air quotes while I spoke. “I don’t think so, Donovan. Gabriella might be crazy, but if what you’re saying is even remotely true then she has nothing to gain.”

  “Exactly,” he said, running one hand through his hair and sweeping it over his shoulder as he turned to sit on the bed. He crossed his legs Indian-style and smiled at me, lips just slightly parted. “She is not crazy. Therefore she must be right. Is that your argument?”

  “Well… um…” I bit my lip and shook my head before staring off into the corner of the room. Okay, so maybe my logic was flawed. But Gabriella didn’t seem crazy in the traditional sense. She seemed… coldly logical.

  “So, the way I see it,” Donovan continued as if I hadn’t spoken, which was fine because I hadn’t added a lot to the conversation. “Is that you have two choices. You can be part of your mom’s plot and stay here all hunky dory or you can escape and see what happens.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You feeling lucky?”

  “Why is she so angry at the world?” I blurted out as Donovan set one hand dangerously close to my knee.

  “Because she worked for those idiots for years. She ran the wars on both sides. And when she started getting sick, they abandoned her. This is her way of getting back at them. Sure, she might talk about nepotism and elites running the world and blah, blah. But in the end, who is she putting atop her throne?”

  I swallowed because I knew the answer to that one, and I didn’t want to say it. The answer was obvious. It was me. Whether she was seating me ironically or not, she had said she wanted to put me in control. That was just crazy. I was a sixteen-year-old girl whose greatest accomplishment was almost getting a date for Homecoming.

  Even if I wanted to run the world, how was I supposed to do it? I couldn’t even keep a tank full of goldfish alive and oh my god, how was my cat? Had she been fed?

  I looked up at Donovan, about to ask him about my cat, when his fingers brushed my leg and what felt like an electric current skipped across my skin. My eyes fell to the spot as his fingers twirled little circles on my flesh.

  “What…” I swallowed the revulsion rising in my throat as he leaned forward, his entire palm rubbing against my thigh as he did so. “What are you doing?”

  “Who? Me?” he asked, licking his lips. His face was so close to me that if I moved at all we would be touching. He exhaled and the warmth of his breath on my cheek made my stomach clench.

  “Are you going to kiss me?” I asked as he leaned so close that our lips were nearly touching.

  “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, and the words were a sickly breeze on my mouth.

  I brought my hands up as hard as I could, and they smacked into his chin with a wet crack that snapped his head backward. He toppled off the bed and struck the steel floor with an angry thud. He lay there unmoving as I leapt to my feet.

  My foot lashed out, catching him in the perfect face, and I felt something give beneath the blow. “Did. You. Honestly. Think. I’d. Make. Out. With. You. After. You. Killed. My. Mom?” I cried, accentuating each word with a kick as my vision went red around the edges.

  A moment later, Donovan wasn’t moving, wasn’t even groaning. His chest rose in one ragged gasp, bloody spittle dribbling from his mouth as he lay there bleeding. I sucked in a breath, my chest heaving as I curled my hands into fists.

  Then I knelt down next to him and began rummaging through his pockets, which unfortunately, were completely empty. I stood and glowered at him.

  “You’re useless,” I said, stepping over his fallen body and stomping over to the door. I pressed my hand to the door scanner like I’d seen other people do but nothing happened. Evidently my biometrics weren’t in the system yet. “I wonder if they are held up in IT?” I mumbled to myself as I glanced back at Donovan.

  An idea struck me, and I grabbed Donovan by the arm and dragged him over to the door, though I couldn’t tell you how I managed to do it. Adrenaline? Sure, let’s go with that.

  Several moments later, I was completely out of breath, but I’d managed to prop him up against the door so that he looked like a broken mannequin. I lifted his arm, supporting him with my shoulder so he wouldn’t fall down… again. I pressed his hand to the scanner, and like magic, the door whooshed open.

  I dropped Donovan, and he smacked into the ground with a sound that reminded me of wet meat slapping a kitchen counter. I shook my head, a wry smile crossing my lips. If only my friends back at Folsom could see me now. Kung Fu action Abby.

  The soldiers outside the room looked at me, and while I thought about trying to fight them, it seemed pointless. Why? Because there were two of them with huge, angry-looking weapons, and I wasn’t exactly a highly-trained ninja assassin princess. I wasn’t sure why, but being a princess seemed like an important quality.

  Instead, I turned to the left guard and smirked up at him through my mask. I couldn’t see his face through his white face shield, but I was pretty sure he could see me, otherwise what good would his visor be?

  “Can we go now?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest like a petulant eight-year-old. “I’m done with him,” I added, waving my hand dismissively at Donovan. Then I huffed and tried to move past the soldier. When he didn’t let me pass, I snarled, a low guttural sound that came from the back of my throat. “I have things to be doing.”

  He glanced down at me. “Sorry,” his voice hummed, half-synthesized through his helmet. “But we have orders.”

  “I don’t give a
rat’s ass about your orders,” I snapped, poking him hard in the chest with my index finger. “I want a shower, and I want Donovan removed.” I poked him again with my finger and he seemed to wince. “Or do I need to tell my mother you’ve been mistreating me?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

  “No, ma’am,” he said and there was a tremor in the electronic hum of his voice. He glanced at another solider. “McKenzie, I’m taking Abigail to get cleaned up in another room. Find out what Gabriella wants to do with the agent,” he barked, before herding me free of the room, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d just sentenced Donovan to death. Part of me hoped I had because of, well, reasons, but another part of me was horrified that I could be directly responsible for someone’s death, even someone as scummy as Donovan.

  16

  A few minutes later, I found myself standing in a shower with armed guards outside the stall. They couldn’t see into the room because, even though all the walls were glass, they had turned opaque when the water came on. Not like with steam or anything, but the glass had turned solid white. I’d made one of them stand inside while I made sure I couldn’t see him from the outside so I could make sure no one was peeking at me. Which, yes, I know was completely ridiculous.

  I stepped into the water, and the rush of it made me shiver, but in a good way. I hung my head, allowing the warmth of it to flow over me. Crimson water sloughed off of me and swirled around the drain before disappearing. I wrung out my hands, rubbing them under the water, which wasn’t really water anyway. It was some substance that took the place of water and soap.

  It cut the grime from my body like no one’s business, but for some reason, I couldn’t get the sense that I was clean. Maybe it was because Donovan’s blood was circling the drain before vanishing into the ether.

  I wasn’t quite sure that was all of it, though. I didn’t know what they’d do with him for sure. For all I knew he was in a hospital bed somewhere. Still, there was something about the fake water that was… off. I shook my head, and brushed one hand through my wet hair, trying to rub away the grime as I sank to my knees beneath the spray.

  The moment I left this shower, I was going to have to see Gabriella de la Mancha and probably Roberto. I was not ready for that moment quite yet, and I didn’t know why.

  I glanced at the stall doors, and the idea of trying to flirt my way through the guards pinged in my brain for the barest fraction of a moment. I could reach through the door, grabbing one of them, stunning him with my nakedness as I took hold of his gun and… what?

  Shot him? Was that what I did now? Shot random guards who hadn’t really done anything to me besides make sure no one snuck peeks at me in the shower? That seemed like a horrible thing to do.

  I stood, rubbing my hands over my body as the water finally turned clear. I was going to have to leave this shower sooner or later, and while part of me wanted to wait for Stephen to rescue me, I was really starting to doubt his super spy skills. He’d let me be captured how many times now? It didn’t exactly inspire confidence.

  Besides, I wasn’t a princess waiting in a tower for someone to rescue me. I was Abigail Banks, daughter of the most vicious terrorist super-criminal the world had ever seen. That was worth something, right?

  I reached out, pressing the button on the shower to cut the water. I grabbed the towel off the rack and dried myself as quickly as I could, but my hair was still sopping wet as I pulled on my clothes, a new pair of white scrubs that stuck to my still partially wet body. I was just thankful they had underwear my size. Why they had it was beyond me, but I wasn’t going to complain, even if it was made of scratchy white cotton.

  Then I kicked the stall open like a badass. The guards leapt out of their skin, whirling around and pointing their guns at me. I cocked an eyebrow at them as a smile crossed my lips.

  “What are you planning on doing with those?” I asked, waving at their guns dismissively before passing between them as I headed toward the door.

  Before they could respond, I glanced back at them over my shoulder, my face scrunched up in disdain. “What are you idiots waiting for? My mother is waiting for me,” I said and snapped my fingers at them. “Chop, chop,” I added for effect. I wasn’t sure what the looks on their faces were because they were both helmeted, but they began to move at once, jerking into action like wind-up toy soldiers.

  A moment later, I was ushered into the main room for what felt like the zillionth time. This time it was bustling with people, all scurrying about like rats. Soldiers were randomly stationed all over, standing at perfect attention. Had all these people been cleared away every single time for me?

  If that was true, why? It wouldn’t have mattered to me if she’d had a dozen people or just one… so maybe… maybe it was for Gabriella? Was she nervous about meeting me? Was that why she’d cleared away all but her most trusted minion every time we’d been in close quarters?

  “Move it, you idiots,” Gabriella de la Mancha squealed, her voice high-pitched and angry despite its robotic cantor. “We have to get all the depots in place before the French get wind of what’s going on.” She spun, her chair whirling toward a screen, and as it did, so she spotted me. Her face went sort of slack as she took me in, standing there staring at her.

  She shook her head once, her lips compressing in anger. “Why is she here?” Gabriella asked, her voice like a knife in the hearts of the soldiers who had brought me. “I gave you very specific instructions on what to do with my daughter once Donovan was dealt with.”

  “Ma’am,” the first soldier said, raising one hand palm out. “She told us you were expecting her, and you asked us to comply with her requests provided they were not ridiculous. Coming to see you hardly seems ridiculous.”

  I smirked inwardly because the soldier had just put my mom in her place, and as her face alternated between forced calm and blinding rage, I could tell she knew it too. Why had he done that? Didn’t evil overlords tend to kill subordinates who annoyed them? Wasn’t that like a thing?

  “How dare you speak to my mother that way,” I snapped, spinning around and poking the soldier in the chest. “I should have you shot.”

  “Abigail,” Gabriella said and her voice was half-strangled. “I appreciate your loyalty, but that isn’t how I do things.” She sighed. “Firstly, killing subordinates who annoy you leads to two very bad outcomes. The first is that no sane person will want to work for you. The second is that you tend to be blindsided because yes-men who fear for their lives tend to keep their mouths shut. It’s why the Death Star was manufactured with such a debilitating flaw.”

  Had she really just made a Star Wars reference? That was the only thought that went through my head as she paused to take a breath. The breathing mechanism attached to her face shuddered, reminding me of a macabre Darth Vader. “Unfortunately,” she continued, “what Gregor said is true. I did ask them to comply with your orders and so here you are.”

  She glanced around the room for a moment before beckoning me closer. I moved forward, slightly taken aback because this wasn’t going according to plan at all. I mean, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do, but still… this was off.

  When I reached her, she took one of my hands in hers and led me toward one of the consoles. Huge multi-colored knobs littered its surface, but since there were no labels I couldn’t tell what any of them did.

  “I want to show you something,” she said, pressing down on a huge green button. “I know you’re trying to be tough, hoping your secret agent will come save you, but unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen.”

  The screen above us lit up to reveal a room. The bottom half of it was filled with water, and even from my vantage point, I could see shark fins circling. High above, Stephen was suspended from a thin cable.

  “Stephen’s alive!” I said, and I was suddenly so happy it felt unreal. I hadn’t been sure if Donovan had killed him or not. Evidently, he hadn’t.

  “For now,” Gabriella said, and as I watched, the cable b
egan to unwind, lowering him toward the tank.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, my eyes wide as I stared at the screen. “A shark tank?”

  “Yes,” Gabriella purred. “He reminded me of a British secret agent I killed a few years back. I felt like it would be fitting to give him a similar ending.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, turning toward her, my heart pounding so hard in my chest that I could barely hear over it.

  “I don’t normally,” she said, grinning at me. “Normally it is just a bullet to the head. But I felt like showing off for my daughter.” She shrugged.

  “But why?” I screamed, tears starting to well in my eyes. Was she really going to kill Stephen via shark tank because she wanted me to watch? That seemed crazy… unless?

  “Is this a test?” I squeaked, the words rushing past my lips in a jumbled mess.

  Gabriella’s eyes glinted like the morning dew as her lips peeled back into a smile. “Yes, my daughter, it’s a test. Either you lower him into the tank or I nuke another city. If you pass, then we can get on with this whole taking over the world business… together.”

  “You can’t be serious!” I cried, whirling away from the screen as Stephen jerked to a stop only a few feet from certain doom. I wasn’t sure I could watch if he started moving again.

  “I am always serious. I always do what I say. There are two very big holes in the ground that speak to the truth of my words,” she replied, voice calm, and strangely, warm. “Now Abigail, press the blue button to lower him into the tank,” she added, steepling her hands in front of her like a cartoon villain.

  “That’s not happening,” I said, my hands curling into fists. “I’m not going to kill Stephen!”

  “It is happening, Abigail. His fate is already sealed. Even if you decide not to kill him, I will. He is already dead.” Gabriella smiled menacingly at me and icy toads hip hopped down my spine. “The only question is ‘will you let New York die too?’”