The hushed crash of the surf came to her ears then, and she realized that they had made it nearly to the north shore of the island. That meant they might be able to find crabs or clams. With cover available and shelter in case of rain, she couldn’t abandon this location. And it was very well concealed. She would never have noticed it. Only Summer’s sharp eyes and awareness of construction and mechanical things had revealed it at all.
“Why are you hesitating?” Summer asked.
“It’s . . .” Jacey rubbed her upper arms and lead Summer away from the rusty wheel. “We’re not going to leave here. Not yet. It’s just that if this is a plantation, it means that most of the people who worked here were slaves.”
Summer shrugged. “They’re gone now. This whole place is dead. I want to get back to my backpack. I think I might be able to make a snare.”
“A snare?” Jacey said as they walked. “What do you think you’re going to catch?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I’m hoping a mongoose. Maybe a lizard.”
Jacey suppressed her instinctive sneer, not wanting to discourage Summer’s efforts. Despite herself, her stomach rumbled at the thought of mongoose meat. She would eat a lizard, too, if it came to it. She would do anything to survive. Anything to make sure Summer and all of the Scions survived.
She reflected on the amazing things a person could do when their life depended on action.
Maybe that’s how Dr. Carlhagen and all of the Progenitors had come to justify what they did with the Scions. Perhaps, little by little, they were corrupted by forces outside their control.
Jacey welcomed the protection of the windmill tower then. She wished it could keep out the great wide world beyond the shores of St. Vitus. Because if that world could pressure people into accepting such evil, perhaps it was best if she and the Scions stayed away from it.
15
Dear, Dear Child
The Jeep powered up a rutted gravel road that carried Belle and Vaughan higher and higher. Belle’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the wheel. The road was barely wider than the Jeep. One bad rock or hole could make the machine tip and tumble down the scrub-covered hillside.
She summited the hill—more of a mountain, really—and descended toward a tree-shrouded valley. Seeing the tall, vine-covered trees brought up memories of Children’s Villa. It had to be close.
Vaughan’s head lolled against the window. Belle let him sleep, though she wished he were awake. The farther Belle drove, the more anxious she became, worrying she’d missed a turn.
The road smoothed out once she got to level ground and plunged into the forest’s shadows. Where the landscape around the Scion School lay brown and dry in the winter months, this side of the island stayed green year-round. Even as she thought about the oddity of the climate differences from one side of the island to the other, raindrops spattered on the windshield.
The air thickened as she drove deeper into the rainforest, growing heavy with a scent she could only describe as “green.”
The Jeep emerged from darkness. A growing patch of blue sky stretched overhead as rain clouds raced away to the east. She stomped the brake, bringing the Jeep to a sharp stop.
Small, tidy buildings stood all around her, white stucco walls and red-tiled roofs shining cheerfully in the fresh sunlight.
“It’s so small,” Belle said to herself. The tiny campus, known to every Scion simply as Children’s Villa, seemed to have shrunk during the years she’d been away. Belle unlatched her restraining strap and stepped out of the vehicle.
There was no one around.
Mother Tyeesha’s villa squatted nearest to Belle, its white-plank porch hugging the house. The old white rocking chair sat upon it. Attached to the house on either side were the Girls’ and Boys’ Halls for children four and up.
Belle stopped herself, realizing she’d taken a few unconscious steps toward the propped-open red doors of Girls’ Hall. She fought the silly urge to find her old cot and think back on simpler—and safer—days. The childish impulse irritated her.
She pressed her lips together and turned to face the schoolhouse, where the sound of a woman’s voice bubbled from open slatted windows. Birds responded from the trees, as if they were the pupils.
Though Belle couldn’t make out what the woman was saying, the high, singsong voice belonged to Mother Tyeesha.
Eagerness rose in Belle’s breast, constricted her throat, and caused her heart to gallop. A sudden need to embrace and be embraced by the schoolmistress propelled Belle toward the entrance.
She forced herself to stop.
Yes, she needed to speak to Mother Tyeesha, but she would not allow herself to indulge in emotional—and, therefore, weak—urges. Besides, to throw herself into the woman’s arms would be admitting subservience. Belle had had enough of that recently, what with all the playing along with Jacey’s fantasy of running the Scion School.
Belle straightened her top, fingers automatically going to the Shark pin on her collar. Pulling her face into dead passivity, she climbed the three steps to the schoolroom and stepped inside.
The woman she remembered had shrunk even more than the school grounds. Gone was the thick black cloud of hair that haloed Mother Tyeesha’s face in all of Belle’s memories. Instead, a short-cropped fuzz of gray carpeted her skull.
The face, once smooth, had eroded into a terrain of dry riverbeds and deltas. Only the eyes were the same. After a moment of confusion, those familiar eyes softened.
Belle’s control wavered for a second, but she regained it, balling her fists and taking a deep breath.
Mother Tyeesha’s face sagged in shock before suddenly crinkling even more. Finally, a smile split her wide, pursed mouth, stretching to reveal a tremendous expanse of white teeth. It was the widest, most welcoming smile Belle had ever seen.
Children from four to eight years old sat in various circles, hands on the study materials they’d taken from tidy shelves all around the sparely appointed room. Every eye lifted and focused on Belle as if she were a mythological being descended from heaven in a column of light. Their curious stares unsettled Belle even more than the time-wrought changes in Mother Tyeesha’s face.
One girl in particular, a narrow-faced and lovely little elfin girl, seemed to drink Belle in. The look reminded Belle of how Livy sometimes looked at Jacey.
Belle shivered and forced down all thoughts about the destiny that awaited these children.
I just need to get away from this island, she reminded herself. Jacey’s the savior. I’m the survivor.
“Children,” Mother Tyeesha said, breaking the long, strange silence that gripped the room. Her voice rose an octave. “This is one of my first Scions. Please offer cheerful greetings to Miss Belle.”
As one the children said, “Welcome, Miss Belle.” The chorus of voices, high-pitched and burdened with unskilled youthfulness, sent another chill along Belle’s skin. They sounded alien to her. She hadn’t heard a four-year-old speak in a long time.
They’re just babies.
Mother Tyeesha took slow steps forward, pausing once to snap her fingers at a pair of squirrelly boys who whispered to each other in the too-loud way Dolphins did when they first arrived at the Scion School.
The old woman spread her arms wide. Belle almost gave in, almost let herself be drawn into that promise of comfort and safety. But she held herself back. There was no safety here. What could the affection of an old woman do to prevent Belle’s Progenitor from overwriting her? Love could do nothing practical; it had no might. Love was an illusion, as insubstantial as Belle’s own memories of Children’s Villa.
“We need to talk,” Belle said, keeping her voice cold and flat. “Things at the Scion School are . . .”
Mother Tyeesha wasn’t listening. Her gaze had shifted, fixing somewhere over Belle’s shoulder. Belle turned, expecting to find one of the children misbehaving. Instead, she discovered Vaughan silhouetted in the doorway.
Mother Tyeesha gasped.
/> Vaughan staggered into the room, smiling in his impossibly beautiful way. Without a word, he swept Mother Tyeesha into his arms.
She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his. “Oh, my dear, dear child. You’ve returned to me at last.”
° ° °
Belle didn’t know how she’d gotten outside, didn’t remember walking out of the schoolroom. She was just there, staring at the Jeep, which blurred as tears formed but did not fall. She angrily blinked them away.
What did it matter that she was not a “dear, dear child?” Those sentiments had no true meaning.
Her feelings were nothing but a conditioned response to sense-data input.
She associated the old woman with a vulnerable, innocent time of her life. That was all. Mother Tyeesha’s thoughts were nothing but morning mist.
“Nothing can touch me,” she said to her distorted reflection in the hood of the Jeep.
She leaned against the vehicle, determined to wait for Vaughan and Mother Tyeesha’s joyous reunion to end. Then they’d figure out how to contact the outside world, figure a way off the island.
Just her and Vaughan. Together.
They would survive.
And then—only then—would she consider indulging in love.
16
Full of Oak and Peat Moss
Humphrey had very little time to relax before the evening meal with the senator. At Mr. Justin’s insistence, he had changed out of one white suit and into a different white suit. The blue bow tie Mr. Justin brought out might have been a slightly different shade, but Humphrey didn’t see the point.
“One dresses for dinner,” was all Mr. Justin would say for explanation.
When the senator came into the dining room, Humphrey apologized for the ill fit of his clothes. “I haven’t yet had time to visit a tailor.” He patted his flat stomach and smiled wanly. “I fear I was quite corpulent before the transfer.”
Senator Bentilius had changed into a loose-fitting pants and tunic with short sleeves that revealed her slender, but spotted, arms. “You look dashing as always, Christof.”
The use of Dr. Carlhagen’s first name puzzled Humphrey. He wondered if the senator had known Dr. Carlhagen personally. Mr. Justin hadn’t known anything about it, and Humphrey had not uncovered any clues among Dr. Carlhagen’s papers.
Humphrey guided the senator to a chair next to the one at the head of the table where Dr. Carlhagen traditionally sat. Mr. Justin came in, bearing salads on a silver tray. Humphrey tried not to dwell on memories of a similar meal just days earlier, when Dr. Carlhagen had entertained him and Jacey at this table. Two such dinners had taken place, the most uncomfortable of Humphrey’s entire life.
Mr. Justin poured out half-glasses of the red wine. Humphrey gave it an appreciative sniff, though in truth he would have rather poured it out the window. He dampened his lips with the smelly liquid, but didn’t let it touch his tongue.
The senator took a much longer swig, the whole time eyeing Humphrey over the brim of her glass. She swallowed and patted her lips with a white napkin. “I envy you, Christof. What freedom it is to be able to step forward as yourself after your transfer.”
Humphrey nodded as if he understood her point.
The senator smiled. “I’ve been able to track down your first graduating class, you know.” She flashed a mischievous look at him. “Don’t act so surprised. When four of the richest people on earth die within a short period of time, and then suddenly have heretofore unknown relatives emerge as heirs, it’s easy for people like me, who know your secret, to put the pieces together. The handsome young man, Dante, is certainly Silvio Silva. The girl Vin is Elizabeth English, and young Ping, who now studies art in Paris, has to be Han Cheng. I have not yet been able to track down the fourth, though. I assume it’s a woman. Whoever she is, she is laying very low. But given the mysterious disappearance of one Janicka Howard, I am watching certain bank accounts very carefully.”
Humphrey cleared his throat to make a show of being caught red-handed. “I can’t comment on details of my other clients, Maxine.”
The senator winked at him. “I appreciate your discretion, but you know you can confide in me.”
More than ever, Humphrey wished that Jacey were there. She had always been able to read people so well. He didn’t like the trajectory of the conversation, so he decided to change the subject. “I was distressed to hear about your illness. I hope you’re not feeling too poorly tonight.”
“My medication is good,” the senator said, stabbing a cherry tomato from her salad. “It suppresses the worst symptoms, but I do have memory lapses and occasional bouts of dizziness.”
“Do let me know if you need to return to your bed. Don’t be polite on my account.”
“I’m fine, dear.” The senator popped the tomato in her mouth and sighed appreciatively. “Do you know how much a tomato like that would cost in Indianapolis?”
“Cost?”
“Of course you don’t. You’re rolling in it. I have a pretty good idea what you’re raking in from this little operation.” She took up her wine glass and drained it. “And to think, a billion dollars will be walking-around-money for you soon.”
Mr. Justin bustled in with the wine bottle and topped off their glasses. Humphrey tried to make eye contact, desperate for some sign of what he should say. The butler ignored him and departed.
Humphrey stammered a response. “I don’t care to discuss money at the table.”
“Oh? What would you like to discuss?” The senator’s foot rubbed against Humphrey’s calf. He froze with his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. The realization that the senator was flirting with him sapped what remained of his poor appetite. It was Summer all over again, except a million years older.
The senator winked. “I know I’m going to be a bit too young after the transfer for our relationship to be public, but I am looking forward to trying out my new body.”
The room felt suddenly quite warm, and Humphrey wiped his brow with his napkin. Without thinking he took a deep swig of wine, which made him cough. “That wouldn’t be appropriate,” he said, eyes tearing. “Your Scion is only fourteen.”
“Come now, doctor,” Senator Bentilius said, leaning on her elbow and sliding closer to him. “I know you’re a bit of a prude, but I won’t be fourteen, no matter what body I’m wearing.” She flashed a painted-on eyebrow. “I plan to prove that to you many times over.”
“But, Maxine!”
“No one has to know. Besides, I’m not asking you to marry me. Where’s the harm enjoying each other’s company? Besides, we’ll be spending so much time together now that we’re in business together.”
Business?
Humphrey covered his shock with a cough. “Oh, of course. How are things going on your front?” He stuffed his mouth with bitter greens and chewed with great vigor. Maybe if he kept his mouth full, he wouldn’t be expected to say anything more.
The senator pushed her salad aside, and leaned back in her chair, dangling the wine glass from her fingers. “The new facility is almost done. Much has been accomplished since you returned here and got out of my way. I know how to twist arms. I think we’ll be ready to receive the first Scions by the first of the year. What progress have you made in recruiting a martial arts master for the new Scion School?”
Humphrey’s lips moved, but nothing came out.
Another Scion School?
Clearly, Mr. Justin hadn’t known of this or he would have said something.
Wouldn’t he?
“I am, um, reviewing possible candidates. As you know, I like to recruit those who I have complete control over. The most competent people keep the skeletons in their closets locked up tight. I have a number of candidates in mind, but I’m still searching for sufficient leverage over them.”
The senator took a long, languid sip of her wine, swallowed it, swirled the remainder in her glass for a moment, then tossed it back. “Delicious!” she exclaimed. “You know, Christo
f, I want to apologize for how stern I was in our holo communication earlier. You understand, don’t you? I had an audience off-camera, and I need to keep up my reputation as a tough broad.”
“Oh, of course. No offense taken at all, my dear. But I must reiterate, transferring to your Scion now is fraught with risk.”
The senator didn’t let her sultry smile fade, though her words came out like stone. “And of course you understand I have no alternative.”
Humphrey was saved from responding by Mr. Justin’s entrance. The butler noted the senator’s empty wine glass. “I’m afraid the bottle is empty. Shall I go to the wine cellar and fetch another?”
Humphrey opened his mouth to decline, but before he could utter a word the senator clapped her hands. “No, no. Let me and Christof go down to find something. Wouldn’t that be delightful? I’m so interested in seeing your wine cellar.”
The prospect of going down there alone with the senator filled Humphrey with dread. And irritation. All he really wanted was to go to bed. But seeing no alternative, he patted the table and stood. “All right,” he said, tossing his cloth napkin down. He made a great show of going to the senator’s chair and pulling it back so she could stand. She wasn’t too steady on her feet. Humphrey couldn’t gauge if it was due to her illness, the wine, or perhaps a combination of both. He steadied her by taking hold of her elbow. She leaned into him as he guided her to the door.
“Dr. Carlhagen?” Justin called to him. Humphrey left the senator holding onto the doorjamb and followed Mr. Justin toward the servers’ entrance of the dining room. Mr. Justin extended a small shiny object.
The key to the wine cellar.
Humphrey grabbed at it. “Oh, thank you.”
Mr. Justin didn’t relinquish it.
“Far left row, in three shelving units, third shelf down, is a decent Alexander Valley Pinot. You’re choosing it because it is among the rarest in your collection and you’ve been saving it for a special occasion. It tastes of blackberries, oak, with hints of morning dew on grass.” Mr. Justin smiled broadly, and cut a glance at the senator before meeting Humphrey’s gaze. “Be careful, sir.”
Child of Lies Page 10