“I don’t know where Ash—”
“I just want to talk about him.” He popped open an energy drink and took a few slugs.
“You know that stuff is all marketing,” I said. “You’re better off having a Coke and some vitamins. Cheaper, too.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that.”
I squirmed, as if giving him advice was an olive branch I hadn’t meant to extend.
“I’m not the enemy, Maya.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that. Funny, because I could swear it was you I saw during the forest fire, pointing a gun at me.”
“A tranquilizer gun. Because you were about to run back into a burning forest.”
I took a bite of my sandwich.
“About Ashton,” he said.
“Ash. He hates Ashton.”
“Ash.” He pondered. “All right, then. Ash.”
Again he smiled and I realized he took this as another sign I was opening up. Helping him get to know us better.
“How much has Ash told you about his life, Maya?”
I shrugged.
“In other words, he’s told you some, but you aren’t going to share it with me in case you’d be telling me things I don’t know. I can assure you that’s very unlikely, and not why I was asking. I just don’t want to tell you anything you already know.”
Still I said nothing. He waited a moment, then nodded. “All right. From the top then. Your mother kept him when she gave you up. It seems she thought she’d call less attention to herself with him.”
I bristled. “Why? Did I cry too much? Was I causing trouble already? I was only a few months old.”
“That’s not it, Maya. I’m sure you wonder what you did to make her choose him. The answer, as far as I can tell, is nothing. But your mother is only half Navajo and she doesn’t look it. She can pass for Caucasian easily. You can’t. Your brother?” He shrugged. “He can’t pass for white, but he could clearly be her son. With you . . . ? People would have noticed. They can pretend they don’t, but they do. If the St. Clouds went looking for a white woman with a Native American baby, they’d have had a lot easier time finding you. She knew that. So when she made her choice . . .”
“She kept Ash.” I turned the pop can around in my hands. “But that only made it easier for you to find me, didn’t it? An abandoned Native baby.”
He nodded.
“So she basically tossed me to you and the St. Clouds so she could escape.”
Antone rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to malign your mother. What she did to you was wrong. But I have to admit it was for the best. At least compared to what she did to Ash.”
“She dumped him.”
He sucked in breath and seemed to be struggling to put a better slant on it. Finally, he said, “Yes, she dumped him,” and in his voice I heard all the bitterness I’d seen on Ash’s face.
It took him a moment to continue. “I would like to think she did it for him. That she believed the St. Clouds were closing in and this was his best chance. The couple she gave him to were decent people. Not as good as your adoptive parents, but they did try. Then, when Ash was ten, his foster father was involved in a serious accident. He lost his job. They had three other children. They couldn’t contact your mother, so . . . Ash entered the system.”
“The foster care system.”
Antone nodded. “In some cases it works well. There are wonderful, loving parents who sign up. And then there are . . . the rest. Those who do it for money. It’s never easy for children of any minority. But in the area where Ash was living there wasn’t a strong Native community. No Native community, really. That was hard on him. Really hard. He acted out. By thirteen—after a dozen placements—he ended up in a group home. He stayed two weeks. Then he was gone. He’s been on the streets ever since.”
I shook my head. “But he’s been in contact with—” I snapped my mouth shut hard.
“In contact with other parents who left? Yes, I know. That’s how I’ve gotten my information. Let’s just say one of those parents isn’t nearly as trustworthy as Ash believes.” He paused. “No, I shouldn’t say that. I suspect Ash knows they aren’t trustworthy. Otherwise, I’d have found him by now. He doesn’t give away anything, even to them. But when Ash ran, he went searching online for answers and, at that time, he hadn’t yet learned to be quite so careful. Someone found him. A man who used to work for the Edison Group.”
Cyril Mitchell. I didn’t say that, of course. I just waited for him to go on.
“From all accounts, Mr. Mitchell was a decent man. If I could have gotten in touch with him, this would have gone much better, but my contact was playing both sides and wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that. Mitchell tracked down Ash and tried to give him a place to stay, but Ash had had enough of that with his foster parents. Eventually Mitchell realized he had a choice—help Ash from a distance or lose him completely. He went with the former. He seems to have tried to give him money, but the only thing Ash would accept was information.”
“On the experiment.”
Antone nodded. “So your brother has been on the streets for three years. You can try to understand that, but I don’t think you can, Maya. I can’t, either. Like you, I was raised by a wonderful family. Not wealthy, but certainly comfortable. If I needed clothing, I got it. If I asked for name brands, my parents would talk to me about peer pressure, but if I wanted it badly enough, I got it. Outgrow my bicycle? Get a new one. Eighteenth birthday? Get a car. Not new, but still a car. College? Sure. Ivy League? If I could get in, which I did. I wasn’t spoiled, but I was loved and, yes, indulged. Does that all sound familiar?”
I said nothing.
“Your brother has never had that. Never. Not with your mother. Not with the family she gave him to. Certainly not with his foster parents. But compared to what he has now? He was as pampered as a prince.” Antone leaned forward. “He has nothing, Maya. Nothing.”
“He has me.” I didn’t mean to say it. I could hear Ash’s voice in my ear, scoffing, Yeah, thanks. That and five bucks will buy me lunch. But as I said it, I meant it. When I got out of here, I’d find him. I’d be whatever he needed me to be, and it had nothing to do with hearing the story of his life.
When I said that, Antone pulled back. I thought he was offended—I’d just met my brother and I was presuming so much. But his eyes glimmered.
“I’m glad to hear that, Maya. I don’t think I can tell you how much it means to me, seeing the two of you together, looking out for each other.” A deep breath. “But he has me, too. I can give him everything he needs. Everything you and I had growing up.” He met my gaze. “Don’t you think that’s what he’d want?”
“If he does, then he knows where to find it. He knows you’re here.”
“He won’t come to me.”
“Then you’ll need to find him and ask him what he wants. Because I won’t help you.”
TWENTY-FOUR
ANTONE HAD TO LEAVE it at that, as I was soon taken away for yet another medical appointment. A psych exam. Apparently Nast was a little concerned about my mental health.
I didn’t cooperate nearly as well with that one. I mean, seriously? I’d just discovered I was a skin-walker and part of a secret science experiment, then I had been chased, nearly killed in a helicopter crash, nearly drowned by a friend, chased some more, discovered my town empty, realized my parents thought I was dead, got chased some more . . . The way I saw it, I was lucky I was still psychologically functioning at all. Of course, if I pointed that out, they’d take full credit for having “made” me strong enough to withstand this.
So I was not the most cooperative subject. Unfortunately, I couldn’t outright refuse, because that would only give them further proof of my “damaged” psychological state. So I answered the questions with the minimum required response until the psychologist got frustrated and gave up. I hoped to return to my room then. No such luck. When the shrink left, the boss came in, accompanied by Dr. Inglis.
Now it was time for “the talk.” I could have skipped it. I knew what Nast would say. The same message I’d heard at every encounter with the Cabals. Resistance is futile.
Yes, he admitted, things had gone wrong. Mina Lee shouldn’t have come poking around, arousing our suspicions. The whole forest fire and helicopter kidnapping scheme? A bureaucratic mix-up. Yes, Nast actually blamed it on confusion at the corporate level, as if some misdirected memo had killed Mayor Tillson.
“I know you’re still children—” Nast began.
Dr. Inglis cleared her throat and he amended that to “young adults.” I’m not sure which was more condescending—calling us kids or thinking we’d respond better if they humored our delusions of maturity.
“At your age, you don’t have to think about your future,” Nast continued.
“Sure, we do,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about my future a lot. Everything I’m missing. Like my hot date with Rafe for Friday or the big beer bash we had planned for Saturday night.”
His lips tightened.
“We have plans,” I said. “I want to be a veterinarian. Daniel wants to be a lawyer. Serena wanted to swim on the Olympic team and study sports psychology. You’ve heard of Serena, right? My best friend? Murdered by one of your subjects gone psycho.”
“We don’t know that for certain,” Nast said.
“She admitted it.”
Dr. Inglis inched forward. “We do agree that Nicole appears to be responsible for Serena’s death, Maya. We just don’t know if the experiment had anything to do with that. Mental illness can have many causes.”
“Whatever. We do have dreams. All of us. And none include being prisoners—or Cabal slaves—for the rest of our lives.”
“Cabal slaves?” Nast laughed. “Do my employees look that miserable? Yes, we expect a return on our investment. We expect you to work for us, in the same way that the army expects military service after paying for a college degree.”
“But people join the army knowing that. It’s a willing exchange of services.”
He waved off the distinction. “Think of it as being a very privileged young woman, which you are. You will get the best care and the best education, and when you graduate, you will have a guaranteed job waiting. A job that will pay you a six figure starting salary, in addition to covering all living expenses. How many young people dream of such an opportunity?”
“They dream of that as an option. A choice.”
Another wave as if to say, Such a petty distinction, really. “You’ll have choices, Maya. You all will. Daniel can certainly become a lawyer. The Cabal can always use more. He’d attend the Ivy League school of his choosing.” A smug smile. “We can guarantee it whatever his grades. As for you, while we don’t have much call for veterinarians, I happen to know you weren’t as set on that career as you’re pretending now. I’m sure we could find something that matched your interests.”
“You didn’t resurrect extinct species to become lawyers,” I said. “You’ll want more from us.”
“We’ll have other tasks, yes. But there’s no need to worry about that now. The point is that you will be taken care of. Very well taken care of.”
“In a gilded cage,” I said, waving at the house.
Dr. Inglis stepped forward. “No, Maya. This is just temporary. Do you remember what I said about finding you another Salmon Creek? We have. That’s where you’ll live until you go away to college. After that, you’d be free to live on your own, as any other young person would.”
Nast leaned forward. “Except you won’t be living in a dingy one-room apartment in a questionable part of town. You would get a condo your average college grad can’t afford unless she comes from a very wealthy family.” He smiled. “Which, in a way, you do.”
“What if I just want to come from the family I have now? My parents?”
Silence.
I turned to Dr. Inglis. “You said you’re setting up Salmon Creek Two. I assume it’ll be just like the first, right?”
“As close as we can get.”
“So my parents will be there?”
She looked momentarily stricken, as if she’d thought they’d come close to selling me the deal, and the decision now rested on a response she couldn’t give. I knew she couldn’t give it. But I sat there, looking expectant.
“Your father will be there,” Nast said.
I gave him a look that said I wasn’t dignifying that with a response. Then I turned back to Dr. Inglis.
“My parents will know soon, right? They’ll come live with me. Just like before?”
“I . . .”
“You remember my parents?” I said. “You’ve known them for eleven years. You’ve been to our house. You’ve gone to lunch with my mom.”
“Your adoptive parents can’t join you, Maya,” Nast said.
I kept my gaze on Dr. Inglis. “I saw you at the memorial service. And you saw them, right? My parents? They seemed okay with me being dead, didn’t they?”
She looked away fast.
“This is for the best,” Nast said. “Perhaps, if you kids hadn’t run like that, we could have avoided the ruse of your deaths.”
“Like hell!” I said, wheeling on him. “When we crashed, we were being kidnapped. Of course we ran. You never intended to return us to our parents. The crash just gave you a really good, really permanent way to do that.”
“Permanent,” he said, drawing the word out. “Yes, it is permanent, Maya, because there’s no way we can reverse it without endangering the project. Your parents are human. They know nothing of the experiment or of supernaturals in general. If they found out, they would go to the authorities, which would be catastrophic. Catastrophic for us if the authorities believed them, but more so for your parents, when they didn’t. And that’s presuming they don’t reject you outright. A girl who can change into a mountain lion?” He shook his head. “You’re not theirs. Not really. For once, I suspect they’d be glad of it.”
“My parents would never—”
“Of course they wouldn’t,” Dr. Inglis cut in. “They will mourn you. Deeply mourn you. But, after a time, they will move on. In fact, we’re pulling in the full medical resources of both the Nast and St. Cloud corporations. When your mother is ready, we’re going to offer to help her conceive.”
“Help her . . . ?”
“Many advances have been made in the years since they adopted you. We firmly believe that, with the right treatments, your parents could have a child of their own.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s like . . . it’s like losing your dog-pound mutt and getting a purebred puppy in its place. They’re so lucky.”
My hands started to pulse. I looked down at them, certain I was imagining things. But I wasn’t. The skin had begun to ripple.
Why was I shifting? It only seemed to happen when I got stressed. Sure, I wasn’t happy with this conversation, but they’d said nothing I didn’t expect. I was annoyed and frustrated, but my heart was chugging along at a normal—
Almost as soon as I thought that, it sped up so fast I had to gasp for breath. What was happening to me?
“Maya?” Dr. Inglis said.
I turned to her and when I saw her face, rage filled me. Blind rage, like in my room, with Nast. But I wasn’t enraged with her. I was annoyed and frustrated and hurt. Yet as that untethered rage shot through me, it brought a wave of memories, of all the times I’d trusted her, all the times my parents had trusted her. As if my brain was finding reasons for the anger.
I gripped the arms of the chair and closed my eyes.
“Maya?”
Dr. Inglis touched my shoulder and I had to clench the chair harder to keep from smacking her hand away.
“She’s shifting,” Nast murmured as if I couldn’t hear.
No, as if I don’t matter. As if I’m nothing more than—
The rage surged and I clamped down as hard as I could.
“Maya?” Dr. Inglis said. “Can you tell us what you�
��re feeling? What you’re thinking?”
I’m thinking of launching out of this chair and taking you down. I’m thinking of putting my hands around your throat—
I jerked forward, a whimper escaping.
What the hell was happening to me? It was like I was outside myself, watching a stranger—
Annie’s words came back. It was like watching myself. No, watching someone who looked like me and felt a bit like me, but wasn’t, not really.
No. I wasn’t reverting. I was stressed out, and they were making it worse by telling me to forget my parents. They’ll certainly forget you . . . after we give them a real daughter.
My arms started to throb.
Don’t think about that. Think about anything except your parents and Ash and Daniel . . . Daniel out there, injured, maybe even—
Do not think about that!
I took a deep breath and struggled to think of something innocent and meaningless. Think back to what I’d been doing before all this happened. Back in Salmon Creek before everything started with Rafe and Mina Lee.
Biology. I’d had a midterm coming up and I’d really wanted to ace it. I was always in competition with Brendan in bio and we’d laid a wager on who would do better this time. Winner got lunch at the Blender, which meant I needed to win, because Brendan could really pack away—
“Maya?” Dr. Inglis shook my shoulder.
Damn it, no. Leave me—
“She’s stopped it,” Dr. Inglis said.
I opened my eyes and saw her staring at me. When I looked down at my hands, they’d gone back to normal. The rage had evaporated.
Dr. Inglis bent in front of me. “That was excellent, Maya. Can you tell me how you reversed the process?”
Nast brushed her aside. “That’s not important. Tell us what happened, Maya. You got angry, didn’t you? I could see it.”
I looked at him, then turned to Dr. Inglis. “I’d like to leave now.”
“You’ll leave when—” Nast began.
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” said a voice behind us.
I turned to see Antone in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, his breath coming fast, like he’d been running. Moreno stood behind him.
The Rising dr-3 Page 13