by K. K. Perez
The red light had vanished. She had done it. Incredibly anticlimactic, barely a whimper, but she’d done it.
Swaying on her feet, Lucy doubled over and hugged her knees. The Tesla Egg dropped onto the floor. Icy sweat dripped from her forehead to her lips.
She glowered up at the clock. Not quite a dragon but she’d vanquished it all the same. Lucy snatched up the tourmaline and the egg and walked slowly up the stairs to the second floor. Temperance in one hand; excess in the other.
It was up to Lucy to choose. She brushed away a fresh drop of blood from her nose.
Now she understood why Tesla had hidden his laboratory within the New Yorker Hotel and protected it with a Faraday cage—because a Faraday cage was the only way to guard against an EMP.
He’d been protecting his research from people like himself.
And Lucy.
ANTIQUES ROADSHOW
Once upon a time, Lucy would have been enjoying her after-prom with Cole at the White Hart Inn instead of hanging out in the bedroom of some long-dead drug lord. She supposed the interior design must be what had passed for bling back then: silk draperies, gilded mirrors, Ming vases, and Persian rugs.
If she’d never activated—or reactivated—her lightning gene in Tesla’s lab, Lucy would have gone off to college believing Cole’s lies, none the wiser that he’d always been more in love with himself than with her.
“Come,” Rick commanded Lucy.
She trudged to where he was crouched on the floor. His flashlight struck the planes of his face in the most menacing way possible. Lucy rolled the Tesla Egg between her fingers. Two could play at that game.
The tourmaline necklace had been tucked into her sneaker.
Stooping beside Rick, Lucy summoned the St. Elmo’s fire. She couldn’t deny she was getting better at controlling it. Practice makes perfect. She also couldn’t deny the contented hum beneath her skin.
“Aren’t you going to ask if I disabled the security camera?” Lucy said.
“I don’t waste my breath on questions to which I already know the answers.”
She guessed Rick didn’t believe in thank-you notes either.
“What are you looking for?” She peered at the floor.
“Look closer.”
Lucy lowered the Tesla Egg next to Rick’s flashlight, rendering it superfluous. Beside the leg of the armoire there were fine scratches on the wooden floor. Squinting hard enough to make herself cross-eyed, Lucy realized they weren’t scratches at all.
There, deftly chiseled into the floorboard, was another scarab.
Rick covered the beetle with his palm and pressed.
Click.
The scarab-decorated plank lowered farther and slid beneath the one beside it. Was the entire floor a false bottom? Just like a suitcase. Smuggling tactics hadn’t changed much in two hundred years, it would seem.
Wait. Were they pilfering an opium cache? That could mean serious jail time.
Rick reached into the void, tipping forward under the weight of whatever he was hoisting from the darkness. “Merde,” he muttered, panting a couple times from the exertion.
A safe thudded onto the floor at Lucy’s knees.
It was approximately the size of a toaster, and it didn’t look particularly ancient. The paint was matte gray. Spotless. Definitely not built two centuries ago. Lucy would expect to find it in a modern hotel room.
Rick’s cheeks swelled in a deep breath as he lifted the safe once more, turning it to face them. There was no keypad on its door. No combination lock.
Lucy touched her hand to the door and St. Elmo’s fire sparked on the raised image of a silver snake eating its own tail.
“I don’t understand.” Her voice hitched. Had the Order of Sophia stolen this from the Archimedeans? Would Professor T know what this was? Or Ravi?
Rick blew a thick layer of dust from the door. Whatever its provenance, the safe had been beneath these floorboards for a while.
“This is why I require your assistance.”
He slashed Lucy’s palm with a penknife before she’d even noticed the twinkle of the blade. The egg tumbled from her grasp and bounced. In its fading, eerie green light, her blood leaked black.
“Ow!” she complained.
Without an apology, Rick grabbed her wrist and flattened her hand against the Ouroboros. Lucy was too shocked to squirm or protest. He raised his flashlight and she watched her blood fill the lines between the snake’s scales, red on silver. She could have sworn she heard the reptile hiss. The blood coursed unhurriedly, counterclockwise, through the serpent’s body until it reached the head.
Glacier-blue beams of light spouted from its sockets and the Ouroboros spun twice to the left and three times to the right. It was a combination lock, after all.
Gasping, Lucy whipped her hand back as the door flew open. Just like the plasma lamp in the Tesla Suite, the lock responded to her blood—to the lightning gene.
Rick held out a white handkerchief but Lucy didn’t mistake it for surrender.
“It’s better not to know the pain is coming,” he explained with a shrug.
Begrudgingly, she accepted the token. Lucy doubted he’d uttered the words I’m sorry—in English or French—in his entire life. With a huff, she bandaged her hand, tying a neat tourniquet to stanch the bleeding.
Lucy fumbled in the darkness for the Tesla Egg as Rick rooted around the safe, flashlight pinned between his teeth. She needed to see whatever he extracted. Not only to report back to Ravi, but for herself.
A sage-colored nimbus appeared as her uninjured hand connected with the egg. She lifted it like a lantern.
She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Rick held a thin, three-inch square of blue plastic in his hand.
A floppy disk.
Lucy had never seen one in real life.
Curiously, she reached for it but Rick lurched back, guarding the metallic circle in the middle of the square.
“Stop!” he barked.
Lucy snorted. “You want a dial-up connection with that?”
“Look, but don’t touch.”
“Why n—” She broke off. She knew why Rick didn’t want her to touch it. He was afraid Lucy was a giant magnet who could destroy the data contained on the disk.
Could she? More important, should she?
“What’s on that disk?” she asked sharply. Lucy didn’t think floppies could store more than a couple hundred megabytes of information. That was barely half a TV show.
The corner of Rick’s mouth twitched and he stashed the disk under his shirt.
Lucy shoved the Tesla Egg in his face.
“I deserve to know. I deserve to know what’s on the disk and why the Sophists stole it from the Archimedeans. I deserve to know what any of this has to do with me!”
“My client did not divulge the contents of the disk. Although one must assume the Sophists believe whatever it contains is best not in the hands of their rivals.”
If Rick shrugged one more time, Lucy would sock him.
She inched the egg closer to his chest. “Tell me or I’ll demagnetize the disk. You know I can do it.”
He smiled a snowcapped smile.
“I want you to consider your options very carefully. Jessica is on her way to retrieve your friend from where she has been napping. What happens to her next is entirely your decision.”
An orb of green light as large as a globe enveloped them as Lucy’s frustration mounted.
“Who’s your client? Who told you about me?” she said, voice laced with desperation. “Tell me that much.” Her shoulders quaked.
“I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I did.”
Clearly, Rick didn’t respond to threats. Lucy needed to try something else.
“You were a Sophist once,” she said. “If they hid the files on that disk, it might have been for a good reason. Do you really think it’s wise to sell the information to whoever is willing to pay the most?”
“Need I remind y
ou the Order of Sophia would lock you up too? You’re not the first carrier of the mutation I’ve met. Trust me, it’s not a desirable fate.”
Rick’s words knocked the wind out of her.
“Go downstairs and wait for me,” he ordered. Lucy was so dazed it barely registered as he shoved her toward the exit. “We’re behind schedule. Unless you’re eager for the Sophists to put you in chains.”
She stumbled to her feet. “At least tell me where Claudia is.”
His face softened a smidge. “There’s a hotel near the High Line. We’ll meet your friend and Jessica there.” He paused. “We’re not the real monsters.”
Lucy didn’t know about that. “Merci,” she said softly.
The High Line was a public place. A defunct railway line converted into a park. Perfect for the Freelancers to dissolve into the crowd. She refused to feel guilty about doing what needed to be done to get Claudia back. Lucy didn’t want the information on that disk sold on the open market, but if she had to choose between her own safety and Claudia’s, Lucy would choose her best friend every time.
With a light step, she slipped down the stairs until she was out of earshot.
Lucy stilled her breathing, closed her eyes, and pictured the toy sailboats in Central Park. The sun in her vision caressed her face as she counted the ripples the boats left in their wake.
“Lucy?” Ravi’s voice was panicked, yet it made her smile. “Lucy? Are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m accidentally interfering with the frequency.”
A pause. “Right, right. I should have thought of that.”
“We’re going to the High Line. They’re bringing Claudia. Can you track me?” She conveyed the information without taking a breath.
“I’ll find you, Lucinda. Anywhere.”
Then someone kicked in the front door.
BULLETS OVER BROADWAY
Not Ravi.
“We’ve been made.” Amara’s face shone with sweat, gun in hand. “Where’s Rick?”
Unable to form words, Lucy pointed toward the stairs.
“Papa!” the other woman yelled, her accent thickening like syrup.
Two heartbeats later, Rick appeared and launched himself down the stairs.
“Qu’est-ce qui s’est passé?” he shout-whispered.
Lucy didn’t need a translator to figure out he was asking his daughter what the hell was happening.
Amara scowled at him. “No time for tunnels.”
Withdrawing a gun from an ankle holster, Rick grimaced in equal displeasure. “This wasn’t the plan.”
“This is the new plan,” Amara said. Turning to Lucy, she commanded, “Stay behind me.”
Like father, like daughter.
Seeing as she was the only one without a gun, Lucy did as she was told. She trotted at Amara’s heels with Rick at her back, checking the neighboring windows and rooftops with owlish eyes. If Lucy didn’t know better, she’d say the Freelancers were concerned for her safety.
“Pedro was hit,” Amara called back to her father. “Meifen took down two of them. They must have gone on patrol early.”
Rick didn’t answer. Lucy could guess what he was thinking. She had been the one to cause the delay. To get one of his team wounded.
What if he punished Claudia for Lucy’s insubordination?
Panic gushed through her, sweeping away her hard-earned calm—the calm she needed to keep the line of communication open with Ravi. Energy cascaded from her head to her toes. The static in her ears taunted her.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she babbled. Rick was close enough that Lucy could feel the heat from his body as they moved together down the cobblestone street. “Please don’t hurt my friend.”
“Now you understand the stakes,” was all he said before a bullet whizzed past Lucy’s ear. The storefront behind them exploded, jagged shards of glass like icicles tearing toward them.
“Run!” cried Amara as she took aim at a target Lucy couldn’t see.
Gunfire exploded behind her.
Lucy ran. The next bullet set off the alarm of a parked car, its windshield shattering. The boom reverberated through her body, her heart thundering.
“Lucy?” Ravi gasped. The static made it sound like he was shouting through a wind tunnel. “Was that a shot? You’re coming in and out.”
“It’s the Sophists,” she managed between pants.
Amara gave Lucy a dirty look. “Brilliant deduction.”
Tires squealed and the Freelancers’ van sped toward them. Backwards.
Mikhail hung halfway out of the back as the door opened. He hauled Lucy inside; the rage emanating from him crushed the air from her lungs. Amara and Rick jumped in behind them while the van careened forward.
“Where to?” Meifen asked over the intercom. Tinted Plexiglas partitioned the front from the back of the van, but Lucy recognized her voice.
Rick growled, “Stick to the plan,” and the intercom cut out.
ThankGodthankGodthankGod.
They were still going to meet Claudia.
Lucy collapsed against the cold metal interior of the van as the adrenaline drained from her. On the bench opposite hers, Amara inspected Pedro’s wound. An aureole of blood spread from his bare shoulder. The other woman felt gingerly around the perforated flesh like someone who performed triage on a regular basis. Mikhail sat on Pedro’s other side, gripping his forearm. He dipped his head to whisper something in the wounded man’s ear and an unexpected look of tenderness swept across his face.
Lucy averted her eyes. She told herself she wasn’t responsible for his injury. The Freelancers had kidnapped her friend and press-ganged her into service. And yet, she couldn’t dispel the heaviness in her gut.
Amara lifted her chin at Rick.
“The bullet’s still inside. We need to get it out. But he’ll live.” She showed her patient a teasing smile.
“Gracias, señorita,” Pedro groaned with a smirk.
Rick met his eyes. “We need to deliver the package.” It was as close as the crew leader would come to asking permission, Lucy surmised.
Pedro nodded. Mikhail unrolled a bandage and began wrapping his colleague’s shoulder. Like unscrupulous Boy Scouts, the Freelancers came prepared. For whatever it was worth, they did seem to care about one another.
Lucy’s gaze dropped to her own bandaged hand. She rubbed her thumb across the center of her palm. Feeling Rick’s eyes on her, she squared her shoulders at him, expression steely.
“You’re in the big leagues now,” he said.
“Yeah. Merci beaucoup for putting me on the Sophists’ radar.”
“It was only a matter of time.” He leaned back, arm brushing her faintly. No surprise that she couldn’t pick up on his emotions. “What is remarkable,” Rick mused, “is that you’ve stayed hidden for so long.”
“I wasn’t in hiding,” Lucy countered. “I was living a normal life.” Okay, not quite true. “I had no idea. Neither do my parents.”
“It’s fortunate the Archimedeans found you before the Sophists did, I suppose.”
Mikhail flung a dark look in Rick’s direction, then returned to tending Pedro. Lucy suspected there was another story behind that look that she wouldn’t hear tonight.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she hedged, jamming her hands flat against her thighs. The Freelancers must have discovered her existence from a mole within the Order of Archimedes, but she didn’t want to provide any further details.
Rick laughed, an empty sound. “Don’t insult my intelligence. We knew the instant Tarquin’s protégé turned up as a new science teacher.” Another mirthless snicker. Lucy swallowed. “Pas mal. Clever,” he added with reluctant admiration. “The old fox will make you believe you have a choice.”
“Sounds preferable to a bullet in the brain—which is what the Order of Sophia was offering back there,” Lucy responded snidely as she shot a pointed glance at Pedro.
“You might be inclined to think so.” Rick shifted
to face her dead-on. “The Freelancers can protect you. We’re the only ones who will put your fate in your own hands.”
“Like you did tonight?” Lucy snorted. “This was what? Some kind of messed-up job interview?”
Rick darted a glance at Amara, whose entire body had gone rigid. “We could use someone with your skill set on our team,” he said.
“No thanks. I don’t need to pick a side.”
“If you don’t pick a side, a side will pick you.”
“They can try.”
Lucy was sick to death of playing by everyone else’s rules all the time.
“Stubborn. I like that about you. But it’s not the smart move here.”
“So if I don’t pick the Freelancers, you’ll kidnap someone I care about whenever you feel like it? That’s quite a sales pitch.”
“I’m a businessman. I was paid for a job. The job is done. I have no further use for your friend.”
Meifen’s voice came over the intercom. “ETA two minutes.”
Rick reached inside his pocket and handed Lucy a sliver of paper with the word LIBERTAS printed on it. The Roman goddess of liberty, the very same who graced New York Harbor.
“Lib—” Lucy began in a questioning tone, but Rick silenced her with a finger. “Someone is always listening.”
Her body turned to lead. Rick knew. Had he known Ravi was listening the whole time? His true motivations were buried too far below the surface for Lucy to discern.
Doing her best not to let her voice falter, she asked, “Why are you giving this to me?”
Rick tapped a web address, a chat forum, listed on the second line.
“You can find me here.”
“Why would I want to find you?”
“When you want real answers.”
Lucy lowered an eyebrow. “Let me guess, those answers come with a price tag.”
“Nothing in life is free.”
“Not even liberty?”
“Especially not that.”
The van screeched to a halt.
“Amara and Meifen will escort you to the exchange point,” Rick told her. “But I’ll be needing the egg.” Reluctantly, Lucy handed it over. Nothing mattered more than Claudia. “Bonne chance,” he said blithely. “I expect I’ll be hearing from you soon.”