Varick's Quest (Devya's Children Book 4)

by Gilbert,Julie C.

  I’m curious to know whether Devya cares enough for Cora to ransom her life at the cost of his freedom. He’s never struck me as the sentimental type, but I’ll be the first to admit I barely know him.

  Cora’s take on the matter was interesting. Earlier today, I had the opportunity to meet with her. I’d considered Lanier’s response to my request yesterday morning a brush off, but he had one of his goons take me to Cora’s cell as soon as I finished lunch. I endured another zip tie encircling my wrists for the trip, but overall, I’d count the conversation educational. Lanier must hold stock in plastic zip ties.

  When the door swung open, my escort shoved me inside. I recovered my balance as the cell door clanged shut and the guard slipped the key out of the lock.

  “Hey!” I cried, whirling. “Aren’t you going to remove these?” I asked, raising my bound arms.

  The man walked off without responding.

  “It is about power and control and the study of human interactions.” Cora’s sophisticated British accent gave the statement a lecture-like feel.

  Spinning toward her, I saw that she held a thick, black-handled pair of scissors. An unhelpful vision of her leaping across the cell like a vampire slayer and plunging the scissors into my chest ran through my head. I shivered to shake off the image.

  Although Cora couldn’t read my mind, she smiled at my reaction.

  “And about trust,” Cora added, moving her hands so I could see the ties binding her wrists together. Now that I actually concentrated, I also saw that her ankles had been fixed tightly together. “They are watching, Miss Matheson.”

  “Danielle,” I corrected. “Nearly everybody who has recently insisted on addressing me as ‘Miss Matheson’ has turned out to be a creep, a psychopath, or both.” In a weird way, the zip ties gave us a common bond. Terrible pun intended.

  “As you wish, Danielle,” Cora said, smiling at my explanation. “Please step close and let me cut the cord around your wrists then take the scissors and do the same for me.”

  “Why would they do this?” I wondered, stepping forward and maneuvering my hands to an angle where Cora could reach the offending piece of plastic. I drew a quick breath when I saw the raw state of her wrists and the half-dozen zip ties in play.

  “I will explain in a moment.” Cora’s fingers moved in slow motion, and she shut her eyes with the effort to clamp the scissors tight enough to conquer the thin piece of plastic. Upon succeeding, she let me take the scissors, but I hesitated.

  It’s not that I didn’t want to set her free. I didn’t want to cause her pain and even the slightest movement would do so.

  “It’s all right,” Cora encouraged. “Dr. Lanier meant for it to be this way.”

  “Who is that guy?” I growled the question and slipped the scissors in between her wrists, squeezing the handle. The scissors bit down on the end piece and jammed. “Sorry!”

  Cora grimaced.

  “You’ll have to do them one at a time.”

  The ordeal lasted a few minutes as I isolated and cut through the plastic ties one by one. By the time I pulled off the last one and cast it to the corner, Cora was pale and sweaty. I made short work of the ties around her ankles then helped her lean back on a pillow propped against the wall. Spotting a cheap water pitcher and a pair of paper cups, I filled a cup and held it to her lips.

  When Cora finished the water and refused more, I let her rest for a full minute before firing the key question.

  “Why all this?”

  Sometime during the rest, Cora’s eyes had fallen shut. She kept them shut as she began explaining.

  “Dr. Lanier knows part of our history.” Opening her eyes, Cora turned her hands palm up to present her injured wrists. “This … demonstration was an experiment to see how you would treat me.”

  “What did he expect me to do? Kill you?” Outrage carried the questions out of me in quick bursts. I sat sideways on the bed next to Cora with my right leg tucked under my left which hung over the edge of the squeaky cot. I glared at Cora, even though my ire wasn’t directed at her. My hands clenched some sheets bunched up around me.

  Cora placed her left hand on my right knee.

  “I told you this was partly about control. Dr. Lanier enjoys granting small opportunities to make choices, like empathizing with an enemy.”

  “Are we enemies?” The question felt weird.

  Cora squeezed my right knee then patted it before settling her hand onto her stomach.

  “We certainly started our relationship on an adversarial note, but I believe we share common ground now.”

  I nodded. We could agree on a great many things including the fact that Jillian and Dustin would be much safer a few planets away from Lanier.

  “How is Dustin?” I asked, suddenly remembering he was around here somewhere.

  “They have not let me see him since our arrival.” Cora’s tone indicated that the separation hurt more than the physical discomfort. “I assume he is well, since Dr. Lanier no doubt wishes to train him.” As I began hoping the same for Jillian, Cora leveled a compassionate look at me. “He will treat Jillian well.” Maybe the lady can read thoughts after all.

  “How do you know?”

  “Dr. Lanier has followed Dean’s work for years,” Cora explained. “He would not risk harming two of the finest triumphs.” A sardonic smile formed. “It’s people like you and me who have more to fear from him.”

  I could believe that wholeheartedly. Although the words were not comforting, I found the frankness refreshing. Fear for this woman I was just starting to like spiked inside me.

  “Are you afraid of him?”

  “I am more afraid of Dean,” Cora answered.

  “How so?”

  “He won’t come, but he will react poorly if I perish here.” She glanced up at the security camera as if to say the message wasn’t solely aimed at me.

  “Define ‘react poorly,’ please.”

  Returning her gaze to me, Cora searched my face for genuine interest.

  “Dean is a genius, a sociopath, and a very proud man. He will take my death as a personal affront and seek his own measure of justice.”

  “But isn’t he your friend? Wouldn’t you want to be avenged? Why do you even work for him?” The three questions rushed out before I could stop them, but I held in a half-dozen more.

  “Do you know what I do for Dean?” Cora inquired. She didn’t wait for me to shake my head before forging on. “I do many things, but mainly, I deal with people to keep Dean focused on the science.” Her tone grew in earnestness. “I study people, Danielle. Dean is the most fascinating person I have ever met.” Cora paused, and her expression begged for understanding. “I read people for him and tell him how far they can be pressed and in what ways.”

  “That’s horrible!” I recoiled as if she’d slapped me.

  “It is necessary,” Cora corrected. The distress on her face seemed real. “I’ve spent much of my life trying to keep Dean from wielding his genius against mankind.” She halted again to let that statement swirl. “He is my friend, but he has no true friends. His personality won’t bear them. My death would prompt acts of vengeance, but not for my sake and certainly not per my wishes.”

  “It would undo your work,” I noted, beginning to see what she meant.

  That was a frightening turning point.

  “Precisely,” Cora confirmed.

  “Time’s up,” called the guard who had brought me here.

  “I want to stay longer,” I said, actually meaning it. Though I didn’t agree with every one of Cora’s beliefs, I liked talking to her.

  “You’ll have to ask Dr. Lanier for permission later.”

  Placing her left hand on my right one, Cora said, “Do not anger Dr. Lanier. He is very dangerous.” She looked like she wanted to say more but her eyes merely flew to the guard and back to me.

  The guard threw a pre-looped plastic tie at us and instructed me to place it around my wrists and let Cora pull it tight. Her
earlier statement about control made more sense. Forcing us to harm each other in small ways emphasized the idea that they held the power.

  These thoughts trailed me back to my cell where I waited until the evening meal. Afterwards, I walked for an hour on the treadmill then napped in my cell until they collected me for another audience with Lanier. He wasn’t as chatty as he had been the day before, but I managed to ask about seeing Cora again.

  His stiff reply was cryptic.

  “You may see her tomorrow, if you’re both available.”

  Before I could work up the courage to ask him to clarify, two members of his goon squad forced me to sit on a wooden chair. In under a minute, they had me thoroughly tied to the chair. Lanier tore off the strip of duct tape and applied it himself before having one of his men slip on the blindfold. At the time, I had no idea why they were bothering, and soon, the knockout drug made me not care.

  Jillian freed me sometime later, which I bet makes her responsible for me in Lanier’s deranged little mind. I trust her, but I do not trust him. If we keep on like this, that creeper’s as likely to kill me accidentally as he is to do the deed maliciously.

  Lanier’s obsession with Devya is rivaled only by his jealousy. Devya has a willing team of scientists devoting their lives to fulfilling his visions. Lanier wants the same, but the closest he can come is a pack of loyal yes-men.

  The One Who Has Seen a New Side of Cora,

  Danielle Matheson.

  Chapter 19:

  ATM 1: The Panic Room

  ITEM 202: Jillian’s 100th post-kidnapping journal entry

  Item Source: Jillian Blairington

  I woulda clung to Danielle the whole night if they’d let me, but soon, Mr. Jones tied up my hands and walked me to the kitchen. Even though I wasn’t hungry, he made me eat a chocolate energy bar and drink a glass of milk. Afterwards, he led me to a restroom and cut the ties. I don’t understand why they keep using the ties every time I gotta walk three steps. It’s wasteful.

  The small room Mr. Jones next brought me to had no windows and only one door. A black counter ran along the left side holding jars with bandages, gauze pads, and other First Aid supplies. The room felt cool and clean like a doctor’s office and held a single bed with lots of thick, black straps running across it horizontally. I stopped short in the doorway, knowing what Mr. Jones would order before he got the words out.

  “Lie down and place your hands and legs over the restraints.”

  Shaking my head, I tried to back out of the room, but a shove from Mr. Jones made me stumble forward. Catching hold of the bed to keep upright, I frowned over my shoulder at him.

  “I don’t need the straps. They may even stop my Gift from working right.”

  “I have my orders,” Mr. Jones said with a shrug. “Take it up with Dr. Lanier when you speak with him.”

  “When’s that?”

  “As soon as you obey my instructions.” Mr. Jones held up a tiny earpiece.

  The memory of my first meeting with Dr. Devya played through my head. Almost wishing for the scary chair in his office, I climbed onto the white sheets, turned to lie on my back, settled my hands and feet over the straps, and closed my eyes against the lights. Mr. Jones fit each of the straps in place then put the earpiece into my right ear.

  “Ashlynn? Can you hear me?” asked Dr. Lanier.

  “This isn’t how I work,” I said, trying to hide my impatience.

  “You’ll have to. Has Mr. Jones explained the first Advanced Training Module to you yet?”

  “No, but I don’t like the straps. Dr. Carnasis said it might even stop my Gift from working.”

  “I trust you’ll find a way to strengthen your Gift through the ATMs.”

  “What are ATMs?”

  “Pay attention, Ashlynn,” Dr. Lanier scolded. “ATMs are Advanced Training Modules. They’re scenarios I want you to work through.”

  “What kind of scenarios?” The question crawled out of me ’cause I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.

  “Excellent question. Mr. Jones, would you do the honors?”

  Mr. Jones held up a screen showing Danielle lying on a floor next to a blindfold and a pair of leather gloves that had the fingers cut off.

  “Somewhere on the grounds, Miss Matheson has been left in a place called The Panic Room.”

  “She’d call that a cheery name,” I noted sadly.

  “In Round 1, you have to wake her up from a mild, drug-induced sleep and explain her role to her. She’ll need to don the blindfold and gloves then walk to the door and press the green button to escape.”

  Mr. Jones made the round sound easy, but Nana says sometimes we’ve got suspicions for good reason.

  “What happens if she presses a different color button?”

  “Smart girl,” Dr. Lanier praised. “I’d wondered if you’d catch that. There will only be three buttons. Yellow will give her a mild shock and red will give her a strong shock.”

  “This is a terrible game,” I muttered.

  “Oh, this isn’t a game,” Dr. Lanier said. “It’s a very serious training session, and like real life, failure has consequences.”

  “It’s not right,” I argued. “Let me go in myself.”

  “That would defeat the purpose of a communication exercise,” explained Dr. Lanier. “Let Mr. Jones finish. Danielle’s room is on a timer to release cyanide gas in thirty minutes.”

  I wanted to think he was joking, but the man didn’t have a humorous side that I could see. My jaw started trembling but I nodded for Mr. Jones to continue. He did, and the situations got all sorts of worse. Most of me wanted to yell at Dr. Lanier and Mr. Jones, but I saved my breath and time Danielle didn’t have by keeping quiet.

  Plunging myself into a working sleep, I searched for Danielle’s dreams. Since I’d marked her long ago, I found her in a matter of seconds. Dragging her up to a level where I could communicate decently took more effort than I’d like, but I managed. In effect, Dr. Lanier wanted me to make Danielle a sleepwalker. I hadn’t tried it before, but Nadia and I had discussed the possibility once or twice.

  When I broke through the drug’s hold on Danielle’s mind, she awakened. I had to sink her back down into a daze to explain. Clearing a space in her mind, I apologized and told her what we needed to do. I finished by asking her permission to direct her throughout the training exercises.

  “Keep me alive, kid.” Danielle had more to say, including some strong sentiments that we’d get these guys someday, but she held ’em in.

  I quickly explained what I needed Danielle to do, and she followed the instructions instantly. In the first room, I had Danielle wake up and look everywhere since that view would be better than a camera. After she put on the blindfold and returned to the sleeping state, I painted the room for her and guided her to the door. She found the green button and escaped.

  Normally, I wouldn’t be able to connect to cameras, but Dr. Lanier suggested I tap into the security guys he had watching those feeds. At first, it was disorienting, but I shaped the dream to take the three images and make one clear picture of the second room. I got the problem straightened out in time to stop Danielle from stepping into a pit filled with axes. They’d been placed face up in floor grooves, alternating facing left, right, up, or down. The seven-foot fall woulda hurt if she landed wrong, and the axes looked plenty sharp. I decided not to tell her about the axes, but I did tell her she couldn’t fall.

  A narrow path about four inches wide wound its way across the pit. As Danielle stepped onto the path, Mr. Clark stopped her and bound her hands behind her back to mess with her balance. I didn’t have enough control over her as a sleepwalker to safely guide her across, so I let her wake up and had her practice taking instructions from me one or two steps at a time. Eventually, we got a good rhythm going. I’d watch the feeds with her progress, choose her next few steps, pull her into a light sleep, give her the information, and let her wake up. Luckily, she wakes up pretty easily.

  We only ha
d two close calls. Danielle wasn’t comfortable with her hands behind her back, and her nervousness made her pull against the bonds, stiffening her posture. I fixed that by having her move her hands further up on her back and joining me more thoroughly in the dream. In the picture I formed, there were no bonds to keep her hands bound and her fears high.

  The other close call came when Danielle reached the far side and found five levers to pull. I made her wait while I checked what each one did. Somewhere, the security men must have seen what happened when each lever was pulled, so I searched their memories for those levers and played every scene a dozen times. The first lever caused all the axes to spring up into the air. The second and third levers forced the right and left facing axes, respectively, to fly up. The fourth and fifth levers did the same for the up and down facing axes. I had Danielle pull the fifth lever then drop to the floor. Every down-facing axe catapulted up and over the climbing wall.

  The third task for Danielle was to climb that ten-foot high fake rock wall. Mr. Clark released her hands but left the blindfold in place. The task looked easy until Danielle reached for the first handhold and a knife slipped out of a different place on the wall. Thinking Dr. Lanier ought to be tossed into the pit behind Danielle, I returned to the security men’s dreams and searched for the rock wall.

  The puzzle would have been a grand sight easier if I’d had Malia with me, but since I didn’t have her, I recreated the wall in a dream for Danielle. She helped by showing me which rocks she would choose to climb the wall. I’d then check to see where the knife or spike would pop out. Together, we plotted a safe path up the wall. She wanted to start right away, but I made her calculate three other harmless routes.

  As Danielle neared the top, an arrow slammed into the wall an inch from her head. The surprise knocked me up a few sleep levels and woke Danielle. She let go of the wall and landed hard on her back. On the security screen, I spotted a young man calmly reloading his crossbow and aiming at her.