by S W Vaughn
"Look. This black stuff is really messing me up. Can you take the needle out?"
"Oh, no. I couldn't. It's part of the program.” Kendra appeared close to contrite for an instant. “It will help you get back to normal. Here, I'll show you.” She turned away, rummaged in a small purse tossed on a chair beside the bed and produced a powder compact. She flipped it open and held it in front of Grace. “Look at your eyes."
Grace looked. Someone had removed her contacts. Her own green eyes stared back, a shade more brilliant than the average person, but no longer glowing. Just normal. Exhaustion and a dull terror lurked in their depths. Her reflection pleaded for help.
She knew it wouldn't come from Kendra.
"I have to go.” Kendra snapped the compact closed. “Michael will want to know you're awake."
"Michael?” Grace croaked.
"Yes. He's the leader. Incredibly accomplished for such a young man. He's quite the charmer, isn't he?” Kendra's lips curved in a wicked smile.
Dull weight settled in Grace's stomach. “You're sleeping with him."
"Now, Grace. A lady never kisses and tells.” Kendra scooped up her bag and moved toward a door across the room. “Michael is a little worried about you, but I assured him you would be reasonable. You will, won't you dear? If you behave, they'll let you eat dinner with the others."
Don't call me dear, you bitch. “Others? What others?"
"The other children, of course.” Kendra swept from the room and closed the door.
Children? Jesus, how many had these people kidnapped? Sorrow for Megan washed over her. The girl had to be crushed, finding out her so-called boyfriend ran an organization that wanted her dead. It had been a trap from the start.
Grace set her mind to other matters. Somehow, with or without their abilities, she and Megan had to get out of here fast.
* * * *
Grace slept on and off. She tried to stay awake, to plan, but her heavy eyelids refused her desires. She suspected the drug contained a mild sedative along with an addictive component and whatever it was that thickened her senses and rendered her abilities null. Time passed. At one point during a blackout, someone apparently removed the IV needle. Eventually the door opened. She recognized Lou from the train station in Chicago.
He stopped beside the bed, stared at her eyes and seemed satisfied. “Gonna take you downstairs for dinner. Boss says to tell you don't bother running. Everybody's got permission to shoot to kill with you. A'right?"
"Whatever.” Grace knew she'd have to cooperate, at least for a little while. At least they didn't seem eager to operate on her. Yet.
Lou produced a sparse ring of keys and unlocked the cuffs. He lowered the bed rail and moved back like he'd just opened a tiger's cage. “You can walk, can't you?"
"Guess we'll find out,” she muttered. She sat up, slid her legs off the bed and stood. Didn't fall. “So what's for dinner?"
"Dunno.” Lou's face reddened and he turned to face the door. “I'm not in charge of cooking.” He stepped out of the room and waited.
She joined him and looked around, hoping to gauge the general layout. The room she'd been in opened to a balcony hallway overlooking a vast, open area with a loft ceiling. At the far end of the hall, polished wood stairs doubled back along the balcony and turned at the midpoint to descend in a gentle arc. The floor of the area below incorporated a sunburst pattern laid in light and dark wood, glossy and glittering in the evening sun that streamed from an open bay window opposite the stairs. Art so ugly it had to be expensive adorned the walls. In short, the place reeked of her mother's money.
Grace grimaced inwardly and decided to keep Lou talking. “What are you in charge of, then?"
He shuffled toward the stairs, shrugged. “Security, I guess,” he said without turning around. “Not just me, right. Lot of us."
"How many of you are there?"
Lou stopped short and turned to glare. “Never mind. Quit talking. Follow me."
Damn. It hadn't taken him long to figure out she was sniffing for information. Lou didn't seem too bright, so she assumed these people were under orders not to answer questions. Whatever she discovered, she'd have to find on her own.
He led her down the stairs and back through an ornate carved doorway under the balcony. The vestibule opened on both sides: kitchen to the left, dining room to the right. Voices and clinking dishes drifted from half a dozen occupied chairs around a massive oval table. Spotting Megan among them wasn't hard. She was the only one with blue hair.
Lou pointed. “Go on, help y'self. Remember what I said about running, huh?"
Megan turned at the sound of Lou's voice. A brilliant smile lit her features beneath non-luminous eyes. “Grace!” She stood, rushed across the room, and enfolded Grace in a welcome hug. “No one would tell me where you were,” she whispered near her ear. “I thought they left you back there."
"No. I'm here.” Grace glanced over her shoulder and glowered at Lou, who lurked in the doorway. “Are you all right?"
"Sure. At least they're feeding us.” Megan released her, stepped back. “You'd better come and get something to eat. Here, sit with me."
Grace approached the table. The conversation had stopped. Five pairs of eyes stared at her. Other than her and Megan, there were three boys and two girls. None looked older than seventeen. Nothing unusual about them, except the beauty and physical near-perfection they all possessed. All flawless skin, silken hair, and faultless proportions, without a trace of adolescent awkwardness. No pimples or gangly limbs. No oily complexions or stringy tresses. Grouped together, they appeared caricatures of humans. Designer models.
The youngest, a strawberry blond boy of around eleven or twelve, spoke first. “You're old."
"David!” The girl next to him, an auburn-haired beauty with sapphire eyes, cuffed the back of his head. “Just ignore him,” she said with a smile.
"Well, she is.” David shot the girl a narrow-eyed look and shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes in his mouth.
The girl rolled her eyes. “I'm Dawn. David's my pain-in-the-butt brother."
"I'm Grace.” No sense using a fake name here. If she tried, Kendra would correct everyone anyway. And she didn't plan on staying long.
Megan sat across from Dawn and patted the empty chair next to her. “Okay, let's see if I can remember everyone,” she said as Grace settled in. “We've got Dawn and David. Evan, Bailey, and ... crap."
"Crap?” the last boy echoed. “Okay, but I'd rather you call me Ace, since that's my name.” He grinned, flashing teeth as white as his hair was black. “Nice to meet you. And David's right for once. Nobody stays here past eighteen. Kaden turned eighteen two days ago, and he left last night. You gotta be what, twenty? Twenty-one?"
"Actually, I'm nineteen.” Grace tried to keep her expression neutral, but Ace's blithe statement chilled her. If that was true, she probably didn't have a lot of time before these people took her apart.
"Practically a hag.” Bailey, blonde and buxom, giggled and picked up a glass from the table. “Just kidding. Hi, Grace. Welcome to the family."
Grace detected a hostile note in Bailey's tone, confirmed by the warning gleam in her pale violet-gray eyes. “Thanks.” She realized Bailey viewed her as competition. Maybe these kids didn't have any physical flaws, but they weren't lacking in the teenage hormone department.
"Lay off, Bailey.” Evan, a cocoa-skinned teen with thin cornrows who hadn't even glanced up after Grace's initial entrance, locked gazes with Bailey for an instant and looked away.
"The zombie speaks!” Bailey laughed, and Evan's chocolate complexion darkened. “You should feel honored. Evan's not sociable."
Grace watched Evan for a moment. He looked like the oldest one here after herself. The plate in front of him appeared clean, as though he hadn't eaten anything. Even without her abilities, she sensed isolation in him, a self-imposed distance from the others.
Evan raised his head. His eyes met hers. Grace forgot how to breathe.
Megan nudged Grace, jolting her attention from Evan. “You need to eat,” the girl whispered. She reached for a nearby serving bowl, scooped mashed potatoes and plopped them on an empty plate. “Ace, can you pass the chicken down this way?"
"Hey, you remembered my name!” Ace grabbed a serving platter piled with portions of grilled white meat, drizzled in a pale beige sauce and garnished with deep green parsley sprigs. He held it toward Megan and his grin resurfaced. “Only I don't think that's chicken."
"Yeah,” David chimed in between mouthfuls. “I bet it's kangaroo. Or rat meat!"
"Gross! Knock it off, guys.” Dawn heaved a long-suffering sigh and wound a curl around her finger. “See what I have to put up with? Don't worry, it's chicken. I saw Dorinne making it."
Megan located a pair of tongs and transferred two portions to Grace's plate. “I think there's carrots here somewhere, and steamed broccoli. The biscuits are gone, though."
"You snooze, you lose.” Ace pointed to a platter dusted with crumbs. “Too bad. They were good today."
"This is fine. Thank you.” Grace picked up a fork and poked at the potatoes. She wanted to ask a hundred questions. Did Megan know about Michael's betrayal? Did any of these kids know why they were here? She doubted they did. No one's eyes glowed, so they must all have been drugged with the black stuff. She wondered how many of them actually knew about their abilities and why they thought SARET had taken them in. Had they come willingly?
She couldn't ask any of them. Not with Lou glowering in the shadows.
More than anything, Megan concerned her. If the girl did know about Michael, she was hiding it well. And if she didn't, she was in for a nasty shock.
Grace swallowed a forkful of potatoes. They should have been delicious—they were real, not instant, buttery and lightly seasoned, whipped smooth, and still warm. But it was like eating glue. She put the fork down and frowned. She had to know. “Megan,” she whispered. “Have you ... seen Michael recently?"
"Michael.” Megan paled and her hands started to tremble. She clasped them together and forced them into her lap. “He's fine. I'm sure he's fine."
Grace stared at her barely touched plate. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."
Megan shot to her feet. Her chair toppled and clattered to the floor. “No, you shouldn't have!” she shouted. “Don't say anything about that! Just don't!"
The others, who had fallen to bantering among themselves again, fell silent and stared at Megan. Tears pooled in the girl's eyes. She shook her head and blinked them back. “You don't know. I can't. They...” She glanced at the entrance to the dining room, and her mouth firmed. “Damn. Grace, I'm sorry."
Footsteps behind her. Grace turned to find Lou and his buddy Kyle approaching. “Sorry, kids,” Kyle said. He pulled Grace's chair back and gestured for her to stand. “Your new friend here needs a little more rest than we thought. Come on, girl. Back to bed."
Grace gained her feet before Kyle could force her. She didn't have to read his mind to understand the vengeance in his eyes. She glanced at Megan, and for an instant thought she could read her, too.
You have to cooperate. So do I. It's too soon.
Shuddering, Grace followed the men out of the room. She didn't look back.
* * * *
When they reached the stairs, Kyle stopped to let them pass and fell into step behind Grace. Lou opened the door to the room she'd been in. He stood back, an awkward expression on his face and didn't look at her when she entered.
Grace headed straight for the bed. She didn't bother resisting the inevitable cuffs. Once she'd been strapped back down, Lou turned to leave. He stopped when he realized Kyle wasn't following suit. “You comin'?"
"I'll be down in a few,” Kyle replied. “I need a word with little Miss Carrington."
Frown lines creased Lou's forehead. “You ain't supposed to hurt her unless she tries to run. She's bein’ good, Kyle. Don't be a jerk."
"I'm not going to hurt her. I just want to talk.” Kyle flashed a reassuring smile. “You'd better go check on the others. This won't take a minute."
Grace listened to the exchange with mounting concern. Being helpless and alone with Kyle probably wouldn't end well for her. If she were any judge of character, he seemed the type to be more upset about their escape than the injury she'd inflicted on his arm. She had wounded his pride, and he wanted to return the favor.
"All right,” Lou said slowly. “Jus’ take it easy, huh?"
"You betcha."
Lou glanced at Grace, stepped out, and closed the door.
Kyle said nothing at first. He watched her intently, as though he expected her to attack, or maybe disappear again. When she failed to evaporate, he moved to the door and listened.
Grace turned her head toward him. “Whatever you're going to do, could you get on with it? I'm tired."
"You are? Oh. Poor baby.” Kyle advanced, unsmiling. “I'm pretty wiped out myself. Been flying all over the damned country looking for Dr. Jones’ precious little girl. I finally find her, and some freak cuts me and takes her away. How about that?"
"Gee, that does sound unpleasant.” Cooperate. Great idea. Throwing his sarcasm back in his face wasn't exactly cooperating, but Grace couldn't think of anything better.
"I had to get ten stitches. I don't like stitches. I hate needles.” Kyle stopped beside the bed. “What about you, Grace? Do you like needles? You're in for quite a few of them. Not as many as the others, though."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Kyle grinned. “He'll have to rush you through things and get you out of here fast. You're already old enough. Fine with me because I don't want to look at you any longer than I have to."
"Why are you still in here then?"
"I just want to make sure we understand each other.” Kyle fingered the end of the strap that bound her left wrist to the bed rails. “You're a freak and I'm not. I'm in charge and you're not. I know Lou told you about the shoot-to-kill order. Let me assure you that if it comes down to it, shooting you won't break my heart. I'd suggest you be real careful about doing anything suspicious."
Grace stiffened. “Suspicious. And that would be..."
Kyle's arm shot over the bed rail. His hand clamped on her throat. “Just stay out of my way, girl. Keep your head down and don't try to stop us. Understand?"
Grace nodded, unable to speak. The pressure increased sharply. Kyle released her just before she stopped breathing altogether. She coughed, drew a ragged breath, and glared at the bastard. “Stop who from what?” The raw edge in her voice grated her ears. “You've already got Megan. And me."
"You shouldn't be here. You ask too many questions. Keep it up and I'll find an excuse to shoot you.” He whirled and stalked from the room. The door slammed in his wake.
Grace stared after him. More than ever, she was convinced something unpleasant awaited anyone over eighteen here. At the moment, that included her. She replayed Kyle's irrational threats, turning them over in her mind, looking for an explanation. Exhaustion thwarted her attempts. She stopped trying and waited for sleep to claim her.
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Chapter 18
Grace woke to her mother's disapproving frown. “I thought you were going to behave."
How long had she slept? The last thing she remembered was a sour-faced woman who reminded her of the hotel clerk in Vegas, who entered the room after Kyle left to reinsert the IV and start the drug drip again.
Vegas. It seemed a lifetime ago.
"Grace, I'm talking to you. You're making a liar out of me."
"You don't need my help with that."
Her mouth was dry, her lips cracked and shriveled. The weakness in her wasn't entirely due to the drug. Hungry. Thirsty. She swallowed. It felt like fishhooks in her throat.
"Maybe I should just tell Michael that you're hopeless.” Beneath Kendra's haughtiness, Grace detected a thread of hurt. Not because she had struck some emotional cord. Because what s
he'd said was true.
"Maybe you should. Leave me alone, Kendra.” Grace tried to curl away, remembered the cuffs. She rotated her face to the wall instead.
"Grace. Please."
That got her attention. She couldn't remember the last time her mother had said “please,” except as a dismissal. She faced her but said nothing.
"Michael's willing to give you another chance. But if you have another meltdown, you'll have to stay in your room until the treatment is finished, and that could take weeks."
"I didn't have the meltdown.” Grace closed her eyes and tried not to remember the look on Megan's face, the fury and pain. “Megan did."
"Yes, but you instigated it."
"I—” Grace closed her mouth abruptly. No point in defending herself when Madam Judge and Jury there had already decided on her guilt. “Okay. I'm sorry.” Cooperate, damn it. If she gave any indication of dissent, she was finished.
But the rules didn't apply to her mother.
Kendra looked aslant at her. “Are you?"
"Yes.” She forced herself to look and sound contrite. Projecting weakness was easy. “I'm really hungry,” she said. “Any way I could get something to eat?"
"They're just about to eat lunch. You slept through breakfast.” Kendra whipped out a cell phone and punched in a string of numbers. “Lou has the keys. He'll be up in a few minutes."
Grace looked at her hand. Once again, the needle had been removed while she slept. “So, the other kids. They think I'm old."
"Ridiculous. You're only seventeen."
"Nineteen. I'm nineteen, Kendra.” Oh, yes. Her mother had thought about her often while she was gone. Couldn't even be bothered to remember that two of her birthdays had passed.
"Of course. I ... It's been a while."
Grace stared at her. Was she actually blushing? Please. “They said no one stays here past eighteen. Is that true?"
"Well, yes. I told you, it's rehabilitation. Once the children turn eighteen, they're ready to return to the world.” Kendra studied the ceiling as though unable to meet her daughter's eyes. “Michael has an arrangement with the government. They're trained to join the Special Forces, work for the FBI or the CIA. Doesn't that sound exciting?"