by Jeff Sampson
I took in a steeling breath, knowing I had to go through with what I was about to say even though the idea of it made me deeply uneasy.
“We’re going to unthaw ShadowMegan. And we’re going to let her lead the attack.”
28
I GUESS OUR REPUTATION PRECEDES US
I expected them to, but no one questioned my plan to free ShadowMegan.
I could sense the tension among Spencer, Tracie, and Amy, who had all seen her in action in the parking lot of BioZenith before Vesper Company’s forces sedated us, but not even Amy raised any doubts.
Probably because it was the only viable plan we had.
I didn’t admit it to them, and I barely admitted it to myself, but part of me wondered if maybe I could still save Megan. She wasn’t actually dead, just jailed within her own mind, kept prisoner by Rebel, who Dalton knew, and who we knew hated Mr. Handler.
Maybe there was a way to excise Rebel from Megan. Maybe blowing up the portal would be enough to cut ties between worlds. Maybe…
But first things first.
Evan and Spencer snuck out to the local library to get online. We knew from our escape that Nikki and Patrick weren’t at the Vesper Company campus, and neither was the portal that I’d seen on the monitors in Mr. Handler’s office. Evan also told us that when he was scouting for us, he found the room where I’d been kept frozen, but ShadowMegan’s chamber was no longer there—she’d been moved.
Which meant there had to be some other location.
The two boys found it easily enough: a towering office building in downtown Volmond owned by Michael Handler. Spencer used his hacker mojo to access city planning files, in which he located the blueprints for the building. Blueprints that showed a cavernous basement beneath the building that had multiple design revisions so that the aboveground structure had enough support.
A basement big enough for a portal, perhaps?
The final step before we made our move was also up to Evan. Spencer, Amy, Tracie, Dalton, and I waited late into the night while Evan took a bus downtown to scout out the Vesper Company tower. We needed to know for certain that our hunches were right—and we hoped that our lost friends would also be found there.
My eyes ached, heavy, as the night drew on and on. I huddled beneath my blanket, vowing to stay awake, refusing to wonder if maybe Evan had been caught. Then, around four a.m., Evan appeared in the foyer.
We all leaped to our feet and ran to him.
“Nikki,” Dalton said, grasping at the boy’s arms, his eyes frantic. “Did you find her? Did they hurt her?”
Evan patted him on the back and gently pulled himself free. “I did,” he said softly. “She’s there and she’s safe. She’s not entirely comfortable, but she’s safe.”
Beside me, Amy let out a shaky breath. “Oh thank God,” she whispered. “Thank you, thank you.”
“Patrick too?” I asked.
Evan nodded. “They’re being kept in separate rooms on the main floor, which are basically like the cells we were in.”
The air in the foyer was chill, damp. The six of us walked back to the living room and huddled on the couches around the heater we’d set in front of the unusable fireplace.
Tracie tilted her head in thought. “How strange they were taken there. Especially Patrick. He’s not even a vesper.”
“He may not be a vesper,” Spencer said, “but today he’s an honorary Deviant. But do he and Nikki know why they’re being held there and not at the facilities where we were kept?”
“Not really,” Evan said with a shrug. “Nikki said they asked her a lot about her parents and yours, Amy. And Patrick said all they interrogated him about was Megan. They both talked directly to the guy in charge: Mr. Handler.”
“Our good friend Michael Handler,” I said. “He must have been really curious about everything related to Rebel’s cult and Megan’s possession.”
“So why didn’t they take me there, too?” Amy asked.
Tracie gave her a look. “You’re kidding, right? You think they ever expected to get you to cooperate?”
Amy considered it, then smirked. “You’re right. Nikki is much, much nicer than I am.”
“We’re going to get them, right?” Dalton asked me eagerly, his eyes opened wide, excited. “Please say we are, Emily.”
“Of course,” I said. Shedding the blanket, I got to my feet. “But we’ll plan it out tomorrow—or, well, today. We need to sleep.” I met Dalton’s eyes. “Tomorrow. I promise.”
He nodded at me.
We gathered our blankets and one by one shuffled up the stairs to our rooms. Soon, only Evan and I remained. He grabbed my sleeve as I started to carry my bundle of sheets to the staircase.
“Hey,” he asked me softly. “How much do you know about that Patrick guy?”
I shrugged. “Not much, actually. He just sort of always ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Also, he’s British.” Tilting my head I asked, “Why? Did he seem shady to you? Do you think we can’t trust him?”
Evan shook his head. “No! No, nothing like that. I was just curious. He seemed nice. Very…friendly.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Oh yeah. Nice, if a little quiet. Also really hot.”
Blushing, Evan turned from me and opened his mouth into an exaggerated yawn. “Oh man, I’m beat. Long day. Time for bed.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said, grinning at him.
What can I say? Even in the midst of hiding out and planning another jailbreak, sometimes we can’t help being a bunch of teenagers.
The Vesper Company building was a glittering tower of steel and mirrors that rose ten stories above us. It was nestled downtown in a small corporate district that had ambitions to one day become a rival to Seattle. At least, that’s what the sandal-clad tech CEOs hoped.
On ground level, there was a metal sign above the doors showing the logo and slogan I’d seen so often on letterhead:
THE VESPER COMPANY
“ENVISIONING THE BRIGHTEST STARS, TO LEAD OUR WAY.”
They sure did envision something, all right.
The six of us were unwashed, in ratty clothes and stolen shoes. We looked like a gang of homeless kids, which meant the people walking down the streets in their designer frocks and business casual wear completely ignored us.
No one cares to look too long at the unfortunate deviants that roam city streets.
We strode purposefully down the sidewalk and right up to the double doors that opened into the lobby of the Vesper Company building. I was in the lead, so I was the one who grabbed the handles of both doors and yanked them wide open.
Flashbacks to the first time I went into BioZenith through the front door rushed through my mind. Every bit of me, down to my microscopic atoms, was ready to face off with whoever got in my way.
After all that had happened, all that had been done to me, I wanted to fight.
In front of us was an enclosed receptionist desk. She sat typing away behind a pane of glass, as though she was a movie-theater box-office attendant. Weird.
Weirder still: Upon seeing us, the woman went wide-eyed, jumped to her feet, and pulled down a metal shade. Like she’d been expecting us.
Not that I could blame her.
The lobby was covered in blood-red carpet. Emblazoned in gold atop it was a giant V in a circle, a little star at the V’s top right corner. Leather chairs lined the walls on either side of us, with low black tables set in front. Beyond the receptionist’s desk were doorways and elevators, plus signs that said which floor contained which offices.
“I guess our reputation precedes us,” Amy said wryly as she came to my side.
“No kidding,” Evan said, then laughed. “Man, who knew it’d be so badass to be a team of runaways.”
“Now, now, Evan,” Tracie said, patting his shoulder. “We’re Deviants, remember?”
“Couldn’t forget.”
Gently grabbing Dalton’s arm, I looked up into his sad eyes. “You ready?” I asked him. We’d be
en practicing going hybrid the past few days.
He nodded. “I’ve been waiting for this forever.”
“All right,” I said. Turning to face the entire group, I put my hands on my hips. “Evan, Tracie, you’re on Patrick. Amy, Dalton—Nikki. Then we’re all meeting in the basement. You remember the layouts?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “How many times you going to ask us that?”
I raised my brows at her. “That’s not an answer.”
Smirking at me, she said, “Yes, Miss Alpha. This floor. Straight, right, right, left—”
“She remembers,” Tracie said, grabbing Evan’s arm and pulling him toward an emergency stairwell. “Let’s go before the guards come.”
The teams went off, leaving me and Spencer alone.
“So, Em Dub,” he said. “Where to first?”
I grabbed him by the hand and headed toward the elevator bays. “You and I are going to the offices Evan told me belong to an old friend of ours. Then we’re going to find out where Megan is being held.”
He met my eyes, concerned. “You mean Rebel, right? She’s not Megan anymore.”
I swallowed and looked away. I considered confiding in him that I still clung to the vague hope that I could save Megan, but I didn’t want to make him worry. Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone able to tell me the idea was a longshot at best. I didn’t need my hopes dashed. Yet.
“Yeah,” I said. “Rebel.”
We strode past the receptionist’s fenced-in desk. I could hear her speaking quickly inside, calling somebody.
It didn’t matter. If I was right, she was alerting the exact person I was hoping would join the fray.
Michael Handler, Vesper Company CEO.
I pressed the call button on the elevator and immediately a pair of doors whooshed open. We stepped in and I leaned back against the dark, wood-paneled walls while Spencer pressed the button for the third floor.
One of the golden hand bars bit into my lower back. I crossed my feet at the ankles and smiled as Spencer whistled along to the classical tune playing from an unseen radio. I alternated looking at the lights change from floor to floor, to following the intricate patterns on the ornate oriental carpet beneath me.
Finally, with a ding, the elevator stopped its ascent. The silver doors opened once more, revealing an empty, carpeted hallway. We stepped out, looking both ways, but there didn’t seem to be anyone about.
We passed plush chairs set against the walls, beneath paintings of modern art, reading the name plates on each office door until we found the exact one I wanted: the office of Mrs. Citrus Fruit. Otherwise known as Mrs. Limon.
She was in the midst of watching video footage of us storming through the halls of the other Vesper Company campus and transcribing all the details. She barely had time to gasp as Spencer and I busted through her office door, and even less time to react before I slammed her head against the keyboard and tossed her aside.
She wasn’t knocked out. But Mrs. Limon didn’t stick around to catch up—without saying a word, she crawled out of the door, then got to her feet and ran faster than I’d ever seen a woman run in heels. Well, other than myself that one time.
“Wow,” Spencer said as he put his hands on his hips and took in the office. “All this over you, huh?” He grinned at me. “I’m impressed.”
I grinned back. “Me too. Well, and a little creeped out. Mr. Handler is weirdly obsessed with me.”
Something shiny caught Spencer’s eye from a nearby counter and his face lit up. “Ooh, a tablet.”
While he went over to steal Mrs. Limon’s tablet, I focused on her desk. Papers were scattered all over it—my written accounts, marked up beyond recognition. There were small discs with dates written on them in blue marker, presumably DVDs of the security cameras. Earlier transcriptions of the videos lay nearby with notes from an MH written in the margins, scolding Mrs. Limon for not being entirely professional.
I decided then and there that I was no longer going to be an open book to Vesper Company.
On Limon’s computer screen, the cursor blinked beneath the jumble of letters her forehead had typed. I couldn’t help myself. Before searching the room further, I leaned over and typed in a message to my stalkers.
Something you probably learned about me watching these tapes: I don’t like to lose. So I think I’m done letting you read what happened to me. Done letting you watch me from the safety of your observation rooms.
So I’m going to hit send and let this go where it’s supposed to go. Just know, from now on, Vesper Co.? It’s you who gets to be in the dark. Let’s see how you like it.
See you soon!
Hugs and kisses,
Emily
Unable to wipe the grin off my face, I clicked save.
“Hey,” Spencer said behind me. I turned to find him studying the tablet’s screen, his finger swiping back and forth as he rotated through files.
“Did you find something?” I asked, coming to his side.
He tilted the tablet to show me streaming footage of a room that looked a lot like the lab I’d woken up in back at Vesper Company. Sitting opposite the door, next to a wall-size computer bay, was another of the glass coffins.
Inside was ShadowMegan.
He tilted the tablet back toward himself and continued tapping its screen. “This says she’s on this floor. But there’s something else I’m interested in down in the basement level. Something I think will help with the whole blowing-up-the-portal thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
Grinning, he tucked the tablet under his arm and then started to walk backward toward the door. “I think it’ll be more fun if it’s a surprise. Trust me, you’ll like it.”
“All right,” I said, crossing my arms. “I’ll trust you. Are you going straight there now?”
He nodded. “We’re running short on time. That receptionist probably has the army on its way. You’re good to free Rebel?”
“Yeah,” I said, walking to join him at the door. “It’s probably safer if only one of us talks to her anyway.” Pulling him into a hug, I inhaled his calming, musky, wolf-hybrid scent. “I’ll see you downstairs. Be safe, okay?”
“You too,” he whispered.
Reluctantly, we parted. He pointed down the hallway to our left and gestured with his head that I should head that way. He went right, back to the elevator bays.
I stood and watched him until the elevator doors opened and he disappeared inside. Then, with a steeling breath, I turned and walked down the hallway to the door at the very end of the hall.
The door was innocuous enough—polished oak like all the others in the hall, with a gleaming brass handle. The etched black placard on the door read LAB 3A.
I opened the door slowly. The lights were on, sterile white fluorescents. The floor was marbled tile, and computer equipment lined the walls.
Directly across from me was the glass-front chamber that contained Megan.
The glass was frosted over, her body a shadow behind it, but I could make out her face. Still blue, frozen in place, though her expression had changed—her lip was curled up in a snarl, her eyebrows were scrunched in.
I shut the door quietly behind me, then walked across the tile to the computer bay next to Megan’s high-tech tomb. It was a touch screen, and it showed a cross section of Megan’s body—CGI representations of her heart, her lungs, her brain. Everything glowed in various shades of blue, and numbers streamed on the right side of the screen.
Taking a guess, I pressed a finger on the image of Megan’s open head. A bubble popped up offering several options. One read: THAW: HEAD ONLY.
I pressed it.
The chamber buzzed and red light flared behind Megan’s head. I watched as the ice crystals on the glass in front of her melted into beads of water that dripped down the door. Her skin faded to white and then gradually took on a healthier shade of pink.
Everything below her neck stayed blue.
For a moment, nothing seeme
d to change. She appeared thawed, but her expression was still that feral, angry snarl.
Then, slowly, her eyes blinked open.
They were not the pale blue eyes I had stupidly expected—no, her pupils were still dilated to the point that black overtook her irises. Her eyelids fluttered and then her gaze settled on me just beyond the glass.
And she smiled.
“Emily!” she cried, delighted. Her voice crackled from an unseen speaker. “Just a moment ago it was that fool Handler looking in on me. Megan is delighted to see you, as am I.”
That sense of unease ran through me once again, and I had to swallow down the vomit that rose in my throat at once more seeing Megan’s face controlled by another being.
I forced a smile. I noticed a button with a speaker symbol upon it set into the metal portion of the chamber near her head. I pressed it.
“Hi, Rebel,” I said. “I have a proposition for you.”
She raised a pale eyebrow at hearing my words piped through a speaker into her chamber. “I am listening, child. Speak your piece.”
I laid it all out for her, starting with the words I’d used with my friends—“the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” She nodded as much as she could, her smile growing broader and broader as I explained how we intended to bring down Vesper Company and the cult leader who convinced a bunch of scientists that merging with Akhakhu lords would ascend them to godhood.
I left out the part about how we planned to blow up the portal and how I intended to free Megan from her possession.
“This all sounds…agreeable,” ShadowMegan said as I finished.
“So you’ll work with us?” I asked.
She attempted to nod once more, then grimaced as the frozen skin of her neck bit into the thawed flesh.
“Yes,” she said. “But I must be free of this containment cell.”
“Oh yeah. Of course.”
I went back to the touch screen and tapped again and again until the bubbles gave me the option for a full body thaw. Then I stood back and waited.