Archetype

by M. D. Waters

Foster threw me out? Into the lion’s den? Why would he do that?

  “You passed out,” Declan says.

  Is Emma hurt?

  There’s no blood in the water.

  Something’s happened.

  The conversation flits through my mind and I know instantly what happened. I had been back in Her body. In labor. This body had been drowning because I had not been around to stay conscious.

  Which means I am no longer around to keep the other body conscious, but that is not the real problem. That body might bleed out during labor, and if She bleeds out, I am stuck here for good.

  I look at Declan and decide then and there that one or both of us has to die.

  Right now.

  CHAPTER 44

  I stand slowly, pinning my gaze on Declan. He eyes me warily, his jaw muscles clenching.

  “Emma,” he begins in a warning voice, “you can’t fight me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  “I am not letting you turn me into a mindless drone again.”

  “It’s gone too far now. I can’t trust you after what you’ve done.”

  I circle him. “You are right about one thing: This has gone too far. My husband knows I am alive.”

  Declan flinches. “Your what?”

  “You heard me. I am married to another man.”

  Color drains from his face. “Who is he?” he asks in a flat tone. The island stands between us now, but Declan can and will jump over it if necessary, so I am careful not to make any sudden moves.

  “I will never tell you that. Never.” Giving Noah up to Declan would ruin everything Noah has fought for. I will never tell, not even to see the look on Declan’s face when he finds out his “friend” double-crossed him.

  Declan’s shoulders drop and he rounds the island a little more quickly than before. “It doesn’t matter. He only knows you’re a clone of his wife. He’ll never come for you. You’re nothing more than a good copy as far as he’s concerned. And once your memories are wiped, it won’t matter.”

  This stings because I know it is true. Noah has no idea what Travista did. But I cannot let Declan know that. “He will never give up on me,” I say. “We love each other in a way you will never understand.”

  He moves toward me, hand outstretched, his eyes pleading. “Emma—”

  I jerk away. “Do not come any closer.”

  “—don’t do this. I love you and you still love me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  It is true. I do. “But I hate you more,” I say, my throat and chest tight. “Everything you have ever said to me was a lie.”

  “I’ve given you everything,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I would never hurt you.”

  I laugh, low in my chest. “This is not just about me. It is about who you are, Declan. I cannot be with a man who sells women and kidnaps children. And for what? Money? You are the worst sort of human being I can imagine.”

  He swings around the counter so fast I end up in his grasp. His fingers cut off the circulation to my arms and I wince, coming up on my toes.

  “Don’t you understand?” He shakes me for emphasis. “I’m single-handedly bringing an end to infertility. While other countries waste their fertile years, our fertility is on the rise, and I did that, Emma. Me. All because I won’t stand idly by watching the west bring us closer to extinction.”

  “But you steal their children!”

  “Only the girls.” He says this simply, firmly. As if this makes all the difference.

  I gape at him, nearly speechless. “That does not make it better. Do you have any idea what your training centers are like? Those girls are abused. Tortured. Murdered.”

  He shakes his head. “Under my father and his father, yes. But when I took over, I cleaned them up. Those girls aren’t harmed in any way. It makes them more compliant. More children are born.”

  I shake my head and try to twist out of his hold. “Next you are going to tell me that the clones are all a part of this master plan to help heal the world?”

  “Why else would I be doing this? Their bodies can be manipulated to be whatever we want them to be.”

  “You kill their hosts! It is murder, Declan.”

  “They’re shells, Emma. That’s all.”

  The image of Emma floating in the tank fills my mind. Only a shell of who I used to be. She may as well be dead. “It is still wrong. You ruined my life. And what about Ruby? Did anyone ask her if she wanted to be forced into a marriage with that lunatic? Raped for the child she carries?”

  Declan shoves me away and I smack into the island, a jolt of pain streaking up my side. “Will this be your next accusation? That I raped you?”

  I hesitate, then shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “But you cannot say you did not manipulate this entire situation. I love my husband. I never would have been unfaithful to him, and definitely not with a man like you.”

  A deep flush fills Declan’s face. “A man like me?” His right hand darts out with clawed fingers and stops just before taking me by the neck. Slowly, his fingers curl into a white-knuckled fist. “A man who gave you everything?” His voice is low, thin. Dangerous. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me? Having to explain my actions to my father’s closest friends? Anyone who knew who you really were? Promise them I had you under my full control? I was on the verge of losing all credibility to keep you, and I was going to keep you, Emma. I am going to keep you.”

  He lunges for me, and I grab a decorative ceramic bowl from the island top and swing at him. My broken knuckle screams with a white fury, but the bowl thwaks against his shoulder and throws him off course long enough for me to run.

  I aim for the teleporter, wishing I knew a port number that would take me somewhere where Declan cannot follow. My only option at this point is the hospital—the labs—and hopefully I can make it out of the building. If I can just make it to the streets outside, I can find someplace to hole up until I come up with a better plan.

  Two steps from the opening, the world around me swims and goes dark.

  • • •

  My eyelids flutter open and I blink at a cracked, blue ceiling. Bright lights. A man hovers over my head, pumping air into my lungs. Another man presses fingers over a bag of clear liquid being fed into the crook of my arm. Neither of them pays attention to me. Instead, they focus on what is going on beyond the curtain hanging across my chest, shielding me from what jostles and tugs at my insides. I hear Sonya and the others working but cannot see them.

  Noah stands at the curtain’s edge, looking around it, wincing and running a hand over his mouth and chin. His other hand holds mine in a tight grip. I squeeze and he whips around, eyes wide.

  He leans over me and forces the bag away from my mouth, then brushes my hair back. “Hold on,” Noah whispers and kisses my forehead. “She’s almost here and then you have to hold on, okay? Stay with me.”

  A hot tear slips out of my eye because I want to stay. More than anything. “Do not let me die,” I say.

  Noah’s expression crumbles and tears stream over his cheeks. “Never.”

  A tiny cry fills the room and Sonya says, “She’s okay, Noah. Adrienne’s okay.”

  Noah and I both look toward the sound of Sonya’s voice. A moment later, a young man comes around with my swaddled baby. He passes her over to Noah and I marvel over just how tiny the bundle looks in his arms. How it is mostly blanket and the tiniest of pink faces poking out.

  “Let me see her,” I whisper. My eyelids grow heavy and the room is beginning to fade. My body is weakening and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

  Noah lays her by my head and I see my perfect daughter. Adrienne. Eyes closed, chin quivering followed by a mew of a cry. I cannot tell who she looks like yet, only that she is perfect.

  Noah skims a hand across my cheek and kisses me gently. “I love you, Emma.”

  His tears fall and mingle with my own. The tugging of my lower body continues, jostling me.

  “Damn it,” Sonya sa
ys. “She’s hemorrhaging.”

  I did not need to hear her say this. I already feel the life draining from my body.

  “No, Emma,” Noah says, gripping the side of my head. “Fight.”

  I can, I realize, but not here. This is the end for this body, but not the end for me. “Declan,” I say. “I need help. Don’t let him—”

  • • •

  I wake to Declan pacing at the foot of the bed. I have a moment of disorientation, searching for some sign of life in my lower extremities where a moment ago there was none. Only a jostling sensation. And even though I was with her only a moment ago, I already crave my daughter. My chest tightens with longing for her. Her perfect face fills my mind and calls to me. My heart swells to a point I never knew existed at just the thought of her. This is what love is. Unconditional and world consuming. I would do anything for her.

  I have to get out of here. I have to find a way back home. Home to Adrienne.

  I shift my focus to my surroundings, my ways of escape. I am on the side of the bed opposite the door. Declan will reach me before I get there. The glass wall is closer but does not open like the wall in the dining area. He blocks the way into the bathroom, too, so I cannot get to those windows.

  I focus on the end table by my head. An abstract sculpture of a woman and child sits on the corner by a lamp. Its mate, the husband, sits on Declan’s side. And it is as heavy as hell because it has been literally carved from granite.

  I wait until Declan has paced to the other side of the room, then spring up. The statue is heavier than I remembered, and my broken knuckle makes it harder to grip. It takes both hands to throw it at the glass. The wall shatters and glass shards scatter all over the outside decking.

  “Emma! No!”

  I run. I have to shoulder through what remains of the glass, cutting my skin on the shards, but I make it through. The crisp air clenches my lungs and bites at my skin. My feet crunch on the glass pieces, then the snow. My breath billows outward in white clouds of crystallized air.

  Behind me, running footfalls through snow grow closer, but not close enough to stop me. I have been training for this day for a long time. Toni said I would have to run and would have to be faster than all of them.

  And I am.

  “Stop!” Declan yells. “There’s nowhere to go!”

  But there is. I have seen it.

  I run straight for the cliffs over the frozen lake.

  CHAPTER 45

  I dash over the needle-strewn forest floor, tree limbs breaking under my feet and slapping up against my shins. Each brush against a juniper tree sends a cold shower of snow misting over me. I ignore it all, heading straight for the ledge that I pray will end this once and for all. It is going to be the most dangerous game of chicken I have ever played. With any luck, I will win, because I do not hold out any hope my body will survive the C-section.

  “Emma, stop!” Declan calls.

  The world opens abruptly to a low-hanging sun, nearly identical to what I saw the night I first came here. I skid to a stop where the rocks jut out from the snow and I whirl around. Declan stops no less than four steps away, arms spread. Between us, two white clouds of breath billow and dissipate before colliding.

  “What are you doing?” he asks through heaving breaths. Dark hair lies over his forehead, brushing his cheeks. His eyes have only narrow spaces to peek through.

  “Ending this.” I take a step back, carefully placing my weight on the outcropping of rock.

  Declan follows me, eyes wide. “Don’t do this. Please.”

  “The fall will kill me,” I say and take another cautious step back. “You will have nothing to bring back. That is all that matters.”

  “I can’t let you do this.”

  “Try and stop me.”

  I glance behind me, bending my knees, preparing to jump. The frozen lake gapes up at me, perfect and untouched, with a layer of snow gathered around its edges.

  Declan reacts as I suspected he would. He leaps out to stop me from jumping, only he is faster than I expected. He collides with me just as I prepare to jump away from the cliff. I had been hoping he would become unbalanced and go over with me out of the way—it looked great in my head—but now we are both unbalanced.

  We pitch dangerously, both fighting gravity to stay upright. Declan actually begins to win the battle and we tilt in the opposite, safer, direction, but I cannot let that happen. I have to make a choice here, and though I do not like it, it is what is best for all of us.

  I fist his shirt and push toward the edge. His fingers tighten on my arms and my broken knuckle is aflame in my clenched hand, but I center all my weight and focus on the lake. I focus on keeping my daughter safe from men like Declan Burke—maybe from Declan himself.

  Declan’s eyes widen and his gaze darts between our death and me. “Emma, n—”

  His last words are cut off in the fall. I cling to him all the way down, watching the ice race to meet us, feeling the sharp cut of wind wrap around us. I barely hear the crunch before the freezing lake water billows over us and swallows us whole.

  We sink into the dark depths, which are so cold, all of my muscles turn to stone. But I am elated because I survived the fall.

  Then I see Declan floating with his eyes open and staring at absolutely nothing and know he is dead. I see the man I loved, kind and gentle and patient, and my heart pinches in pain. I reach for him as everything goes dark.

  • • •

  “No.” The word is only a slight movement on my lips, with no sound. I want to scream it but can barely find the strength to keep my eyes open, let alone talk.

  Noah is doing chest compressions over me, air escaping in hisses through his clenched teeth. “Come back, Emma. Come on!”

  My eyelids close, but I am still aware of the flurry of people working to keep me alive. The odd sensation of tugging still goes on over my midsection. Over it all, a baby cries.

  Adrienne.

  • • •

  I cannot breathe. In the mere seconds I had left this body, I have begun the painful process of drowning. My limbs are frozen, and swimming is impossible. My lungs burn and I do not know which way is up. Declan is gone, having disappeared in the darkness of the lake, and one last spasm of grief pulses through my heart.

  • • •

  My following moments blur. A constant battle for life between two bodies, neither seeming to be better off than the other. I am dying either way. I float in darkness, unblinking.

  Noah begs me to hang on.

  Ice-cold wind brushes my face.

  I wake to air forced into my lungs and hands pressing into my sternum. A baby’s cry. A whipping wind.

  “Come on, Emma,” a voice says.

  “Come on, Emma,” another echoes.

  I want to comply, but I have no control. Darkness clings to me and I wonder if it is Mother Nature trying to make things right. I never should have been. I should have died eight months ago.

  But I am here and so is Adrienne. Her lonely cry is proof of that. It calls to me, begs me to stay, and it is stronger than any remaining bond I have to this earth. And it does not matter what was meant to be. Only that I was meant to be her mother.

  “It’s too late,” Sonya says in a tight voice.

  Hands cling to my face, and Noah’s voice grows as distant as Adrienne’s cries. “Emma, no. Stay, Emma. Plea—”

  • • •

  For the second time today, I wake up coughing water from my lungs, only this time my body shakes violently from the cold. My lungs burn and feel scraped raw, and my skin is stiff and tingly. And instead of Declan, I find Foster, dripping water over me and laughing.

  “Oh my God, Emma, you fucking scared me,” he says. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  My teeth clatter together. “What happened?”

  I look him over and find his shirt stained with blood. His jeans, too. A cut high on his forehead seeps with fresh blood. Despite that, he is a welcome sight.

  �
�I finally got out of that lab with the help of some of our guys, only to find Declan chasing you out of a broken window and out here. What the hell were you thinking?”

  I recall the standoff on the cliff. “Did you see him?” I nod at the lake. “Declan?”

  “No. I barely found you. It was too dark.” He stands and pulls me up. “Come on. After all that, if I die of hypothermia, I’m going to be pissed.”

  The word “die” brings me up short. “Foster, I think Emma is dead.” Despite what Dr. Travista said, I still cannot think of that other body as anything but someone else’s. Even though I just experienced the death firsthand.

  He flinches and blinks several times before responding with his blue-tinged lips. “What?” His voice is choked and a glaze films his eyes.

  “The baby came early and they had to do a C-section. I think She is dead.”

  His jaw clenches shut and he nods once. Finally, he takes my hand. “Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER 46

  A pained quiet lies over the command center when we arrive, the people chattering softly and clinging to one another. My skin tingles painfully, gathering every last drop of heat it can soak up. A few somber faces turn in our direction. Several others look on me as if I am a freak and do not deserve to live when Emma Wade just lost her life.

  Foster leads me past them and toward the hospital ward. When we are near, the trepidation of seeing what I think I will see is too much. Blood. There will be blood.

  “No,” I say and stop. “I cannot go in there.”

  Not even the cry of Adrienne—if she cried right now at all—could bring me to go in.

  “Wait here,” he says and marches into the room.

  It is only a few seconds later when Sonya comes striding out with Foster. “Come with me.”

  She takes Foster and me into what looks like a small exam room and gives us dry scrubs—black, not white, I am happy to see—and heated blankets. A couple of nurses arrive, take our vitals, and clean up our scrapes and cuts. One uses some kind of laser to heal my knuckle.

  By the time they are finished, I am exhausted and just want to sleep. But more than that, I want to see Adrienne and Noah.