“But—” Gaia was beginning to feel physically claustrophobic, like she was locked in a closet. Philip had ambled around the table and was doling out fragrant beef teriyaki for her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t understand why—”
“See her! I need to see Gaia Moore right now!”
The loud male voice came from the front door. Now they all could hear it.
And Gaia realized that she recognized the voice. She knew it very well.
hidden in shadow
The bright light shone on Oliver’s face, and for a moment Gaia was shocked at how much he looked like Loki.
Family Emergency
OLIVER COULDN’T MAKE HEADS OR tails of it. He was convinced that those men had no more been CIA than they were space aliens. But they’d wanted to know about the serum—and they’d wanted to know about Gaia. And that meant they’d be looking for her and trying to ask her the same questions they’d asked him.
Gaia was tough—Oliver knew that better than almost anyone on earth. But she could be caught unawares. She could be surprised. She could be fooled—that was the approach that had worked best for him when he’d been Loki. It was easier to fool a young girl than it was a mature adult. Play to her emotions, threaten her loved ones . . . it was simple. And she could be overcome by force if you had enough men willing to endure broken bones. She wasn’t invincible.
But you couldn’t scare her.
Which was too bad, Oliver thought. Sometimes it was good to be scared. It gave you a sense of what was dangerous and what to avoid. And it kept you from doing anything stupid, like trying to fight a huge organization single-handed. A girl born without the fear gene was still vulnerable—even more so.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the girl in the pink shirt was saying. The streetlight reflected on her thick glasses. “I can’t let you until the governess—”
“I’m her uncle,” Oliver snapped. “Her father is out of town on business—that’s why she’s here. I need to speak to her. It’s—it’s a family emergency.”
“Sir—”
“I need to see her!” Oliver hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he was losing his patience. “I need to see Gaia Moore right now! Damn it, it’s important!”
“Oliver.”
He stopped talking and stared past the girl in the pink shirt. He knew that voice very well.
It was Gaia. She was standing in the vestibule next to a wide white staircase. A Japanese woman in a business suit stood behind her, and—in a doorway, back in the distance—Oliver could just see another blond girl, leaning into the vestibule, staring at him in frank curiosity.
“Oliver, what’s going on?”
She wasn’t hurt. Oliver was so relieved, he nearly sank to the ground.
“Gaia,” Oliver said, stepping past the girl into the building. “Gaia, I’m so sorry to bother you here, but there’s been a—”
“Stop, please,” the Japanese woman said. She had held up her hand like a crossing guard. “Sir, no guests are allowed without authorization—and certainly no male guests.”
“I’m her uncle,” Oliver said doggedly. “I have to speak with my niece now.”
“Can’t you just give us a moment?” Gaia asked the woman. “Please, Suko.”
“The rules are—”
As Oliver watched, Gaia leaned to whisper in the Japanese woman’s ear. Oliver strained to hear, but he couldn’t. The Japanese woman listened, looking avidly at Oliver. And she started to nod.
Safe
“SUKO, COULD YOU PLEASE ALLOW an exception to the rule?” Gaia whispered. “He’s my uncle, and he wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. It’s my first night here. Please?” Gaia didn’t feel comfortable pleading. But she really wanted to hear what Oliver had to say. It was so strange—his showing up out of the blue and insisting on talking—that she was determined to listen to him. Sometimes begging was the only option.
Suko nodded slowly, staring at Oliver. It seemed to be working.
“Just let me talk to him for a couple of minutes,” Gaia went on. She was sure Oliver couldn’t hear her—he was too far away. “Then I’ll get rid of him—I’ll talk him into leaving.”
“All right,” Suko said dubiously. She nodded at Oliver, smiling. “Gaia will step outside and speak with you on the front steps. But just for a few minutes.”
“Hey, no fair,” Zan pointed out sullenly from behind them.
“Thanks, Suko.”
“Yes—thank you,” Oliver said gratefully.
Gaia stepped out onto the boardinghouse’s front landing. The night air was cool. She pulled Collingwood’s thick door shut behind her. Now they were standing in darkness. Oliver’s face was hidden in shadow; she saw just a halo of orange streetlamp light shining around his head.
“Oliver, what’s—”
“Thank God you’re safe,” Oliver said. “Tom never told me where he was sending you. I’ve spent the entire day just trying to track you down.” He reached out as if to hug her, but he seemed embarrassed. He took her hand, squeezing it awkwardly before letting it go.
“What do you mean, ‘safe’? What happened?”
“I was writing you a letter,” Oliver began, and then started over. “Two men. Two men came to my house this morning, claiming to be CIA agents. They tried to interrogate me.”
Gaia was confused. “Didn’t the CIA already debrief you about—?”
“Yes,” Oliver said sharply. He had seized her arm. “But this was different. That’s my point, Gaia. They weren’t real CIA. They couldn’t have been. They were giving me an act, but I saw right through it.”
“Oliver, are you sure they weren’t CIA?” Gaia asked carefully. “I mean, they could have had some follow-up questions.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Oliver said harshly. “Do you think I’m a fool? They wanted to know about you, about the awful things I’d done to you in the past. They wanted lab records and doctors’ logs. They wanted to know about that serum. You remember the serum?”
Gaia remembered. Looking up at the dark shadow of Oliver’s face, looming over her, she remembered vividly. She remembered the straps that had held her down, and she remembered this man—her uncle—carefully, brilliantly lying to her.
But that was all in the past.
“These two cut-rate gunmen came to my house with an absurd story and tried to get me to talk about you, Gaia. I refused, but they wouldn’t listen, and I had to attack them before they would leave.”
“You attacked them?” Gaia’s heart was sinking. “Oliver, that’s exactly the kind of thing that can get you in trouble with the Agency. You’re supposed to be on your best behavior. Don’t you understand that they’re watching you like hawks?”
Behind Gaia the front door was creaking open. The bright light shone on Oliver’s face, and for a moment Gaia was shocked at how much he looked like Loki. It was a baleful stare of frustration that she remembered well.
Suko was standing there, smiling. “Excuse me,” she said. “But it is time now for Gaia to return inside.”
“Gaia,” Oliver said—and now he looked like a tired, confused man and not like a criminal mastermind at all—“I know they’re watching me. I know I have to be on my best behavior. But I’m no fool. And I think you’re in trouble again. Big trouble. We all are.”
Please, Gaia thought weakly. Please don’t do this. Please don’t pull me back into that world, Oliver. Into that life.
“Gaia, please come in now,” Suko whispered behind her.
It was time to go back into the boardinghouse.
And the thing was, it suddenly didn’t seem so bad. Even with the druggie prep-school girl and the curfews, it wasn’t so bad at all. She just had to get used to it.
“I think you should come with me tonight. I can protect you better than this—” He gestured at the building behind them.
“No.” Gaia didn’t even have to think about it. There wasn’t the slightest chance she would do that. “I’m sorry, Oliver. But I can’t. I’m t
rying to get away from all that, don’t you understand? After the Yuri thing I’m even more determined than ever to get away from all of it—to start living a normal life.”
“We all want that,” Oliver said. “It’s a nice fairy tale, but it’s impossible. Come with me, Gaia,” he repeated. He was openly pleading now. “Please.”
I have a choice. It was amazing how clear her head was suddenly.
“No,” Gaia said. “I’m sorry, Oliver, but I can’t. I have to stay here.”
“They weren’t real CIA,” Oliver insisted. “Gaia, you’ve got to believe me.”
Behind Gaia, Suko was waiting. She seemed to recoil from Oliver’s harsh tone.
“I’ll be safe here,” Gaia promised. “Don’t worry, Oliver. The Agency set this place up. It’s a safe house. Suko’s a black belt.”
“That is true,” Suko said primly.
“Please go, Oliver,” Gaia said gently. She reached up to touch his arm. “I’m really grateful for your concern. But it’s . . . it’s curfew. Right, Suko?”
Oliver looked down at her, and his expression was difficult to read. A blending of scorn and concern and love. And regret.
Then he turned away into the night. Gaia watched his stooped, beaten figure walking away. And then, with Suko smiling at her, she turned and went inside.
She didn’t even scan the street to see if anyone was watching—she was sure that she was safe.
A Cold Voice
NIGHT HAD FALLEN.
Heather knew because the speaking clock in the lounge told her what time it was. She had no other way to tell.
For Heather Gannis, it was always pretty much night. The darkness was endless. For ages—for days, weeks, months—Heather had been completely blind, and a clock with a mechanical voice told her whether it was night or day.
So the darkness couldn’t really increase her fear. But this night she was already so frightened that it didn’t matter.
She didn’t even want to think about the day she’d just had. She remembered it all—the voices, the questions, the fear. . . . She was so scared, she was still shivering, even though the room was warm. She couldn’t help it.
The visitors had come early that afternoon. Right after lunch, in fact. Heather had taken her tray up to the counter—they all knew how to do that at the school without running into each other—and had navigated back to her room, following the edges of the walls as she always did.
And someone had been there.
It was obvious from the way the air felt. Heather came through her doorway, all ready to fall onto her bed and take a catnap, and she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Hello?” Heather called out. “Hello?”
“Heather,” Mrs. Delgado said, “don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”
Mrs. Delgado was the superintendent of the school. Immediately Heather was nervous. What was the superintendent doing in her room? Furthermore, why was she insisting that everything was fine? People only said stuff like that when it wasn’t true.
And, Heather realized, there were other people in the room. And a smell of aftershave or cologne that she didn’t recognize. After all the months of blindness, Heather didn’t make mistakes about things like that. She knew there were strangers in the room.
“Heather, these men need to talk to you,” Mrs. Delgado went on. “I have no idea what it’s about, but it would be a good idea to just answer their questions as best you can.”
Mrs. Delgado sounded scared. Heather was sure of it. Being blind gave you a built-in lie detector. And an emotion detector, too. And Delgado was terrified—there was no question about it.
“You can leave now,” a male voice said.
It was a cold voice, and Heather didn’t recognize it. She felt the air move as Mrs. Delgado got up; she heard footsteps on floorboards and carpet as the superintendent hurried past Heather, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly and then moving toward the door and pulling it shut.
Click. That was the door latch. Heather was alone, with the strangers.
“Hello?” she said again. “Who’s there?”
“Heather,” the strange male voice said again, “My name is James Rowan. The other person you’re hearing is Peter Morrow.”
“Okay,” Heather said dubiously.
“You’re a very pretty young lady,” Rowan said. It sounded strange to Heather. Because she never thought about how people looked anymore. It was utterly irrelevant.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” the other man said. “We just have a few questions and we’ll be out of your hair.”
“Who are you?” Heather said. Her heart was beating so fast, she could hear it clicking in her ears. She was absolutely terrified, she realized.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Rowan said. He was closer to the window, and the breeze was blowing his cologne across Heather’s face. Old Spice, she realized. Who the hell wore Old Spice, anyway? “You might say we’re investigators.”
“You mean police?” Heather remembered how frightened Mrs. Delgado had sounded and realized that these men must have shown her a badge of some kind. Or a gun.
“Don’t be afraid,” Morrow said. It was like he’d read her mind. “We’re not cops. We’re employees of a government agency. We’re really just bureaucrats. We’re certainly not dangerous.”
He’s lying, Heather realized. They’re dangerous as hell.
“We’d like to talk to you about your affliction. Your blindness,” Rowan explained needlessly.
“I know what ‘affliction’ means.”
“Now, there’s no need to be difficult,” Morrow said. Heather could tell from his voice that he was smiling. “Are you going to have an attitude? It will just make this take longer and be more unpleasant for you.”
“N-No.”
“You were made blind by an injected drug?” Rowan asked.
What? Heather was confused. Why are they asking about that? How do they even know about that?
“I don’t really know what it was,” Heather said truthfully. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Did you go blind all at once, or did it happen in stages?”
“It was the last stage,” Heather said.
“Was the first stage fearlessness?” Rowan asked. He seemed particularly eager to hear her answer. “Were you fearless? No fear at all?”
“Yes.”
Heather remembered it vividly. That strange, exhilarating sensation—that unreal, dreamlike disconnection of having no fear. And then later . . . the burning pain, the fever . . . the fear of not understanding.
And then blackness.
“Heather,” Morrow went on, “did you undergo any kind of examination or blood test during that first stage?”
“No.”
“You answered awfully quickly,” Rowan said. “It’s been a long time since the events we’re discussing. Are you sure? Absolutely sure there was no blood test? Even by a paramedic or an emergency-room nurse?”
“Nothing like that,” Heather insisted. “It just happened so quickly. There was no time for that.”
Rowan sighed in frustration. Heather heard it clearly.
“And Gaia Moore?” Morrow asked suddenly. “Did she receive the same injection?”
“I don’t understand,” Heather said. She heard the fear in her voice and tried to suppress it. “You caught him, didn’t you? The man who did this to me? Oliver Moore? You caught him. Why don’t you ask him all these questions?”
“Because we’re asking you,” Morrow said.
“Answer the question, Heather,” Rowan went on. “And you’d better be sure you’re answering truthfully.”
Heather was so frightened that she could barely speak. But at the same time, she was irritated. She’d been following the conversation very closely. It was amazing how well you could pay attention to things when you weren’t distracted by appearances, facial expressions, colors.
And these men weren’t being truthful. Heather had no idea what the lie was, but
there was a lie in there somehow. Their voices gave it away.
“I don’t know,” Heather insisted. “I don’t know what they did to her. He’d been making her life hell for months.”
Rowan was standing up. The sound filled Heather with relief. The interview is over, she thought. Thank God—they’re leaving.
But she was wrong.
Rowan came right over to stand in front of her. The smell of Old Spice was overpowering. Heather could hear him breathing.
And then she felt the man’s hand on her shoulder.
“Please stop,” Heather whispered. “Please leave me alone.”
“We’ll go,” Rowan said, “if you swear to us that you’ve told us the truth. And that there’s nothing you’ve left out. About the injection, Ms. Moore, any of it.”
“I swear,” Heather whispered. She was crying—she couldn’t help it. “I swear. Please leave me alone. Please.”
“One more thing,” Rowan said. He pushed his hand downward on her shoulder. “Don’t tell anybody about us. That superintendent, your teachers, anyone. If you do, we’ll find out. And we’ll come back. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl.”
And then suddenly they were gone. She felt the hand lift from her shoulder. Then she heard the door opening and closing and the footsteps, and she was alone in her room with the cloying smell of Old Spice lingering in the air.
And now, three hours later, Heather sat in the lounge, trembling. She hadn’t said a word to anyone. She’d taken a shower, and put on clean pajamas, and eaten dinner, and now she was sitting quietly in the lounge.
I’ve got to tell someone, Heather thought.
It was exactly what they had told her not to do.
But she had to. She had to at least ask someone for advice. Maybe not help, but advice. It wasn’t like they were going to spy on her. And she had to figure out what to do next.
Not somebody at the school. That was a bad idea. She needed to talk to someone she really knew—someone she could trust.
And more importantly, she had to warn Gaia.
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