Child of Lies

by Eric Kent Edstrom

  Ten per day, Belle thought. And she only had three.

  “Mr. Justin knows where they’re at then,” she said. “Where is he?”

  Vaughan waved at the window out toward the campus. “Mr. Justin suggested I call for a lockdown because of the helicopter activity. He went down to count the Scions in Boys’ and Girls’ Hall and then lock the doors and shutters.”

  Belle dodged past Humphrey and out the door.

  “Wait, where are you going?” he called.

  Belle raced out, jumped into the Jeep, and tore down the path. She turned a particularly sharp corner and had to slam the brakes to avoid running over several Scions who were working their way up the path. The Jeep slid sideways into a bougainvillea hedge before coming to a stop.

  Wanda rushed up, red hair flying free from her ponytail. Behind her were Elias, Horace, Dajeet, Bethancy, and Tytus.

  “Belle!” Wanda cried. “Have you seen Jacey and Summer?”

  Belle ignored the question. “Where’s Mr. Justin?”

  Wanda frowned and pointed down the path. “He said he’s stopping at the medical ward.”

  “I thought there was a lockdown. What are all of you doing here?”

  “Mr. Justin sent us to the hacienda. He said he is going to tell us what’s going on with the helicopter and the visitors.”

  That seemed very odd to Belle. Dr. Carlhagen and Sensei had certainly never explained lockdowns before. But she had the answer she needed from Wanda, so she threw the Jeep in reverse and backed out of the hedge.

  The Scions scrambled to get out of her way. Except for Wanda, who stood firm, fists planted on her hips. “Do you know where Jacey and Summer are or not?”

  “No, I don’t,” Belle said, snapping her fingers. “Now do as you are told and go.”

  Wanda stood firm for another two seconds, face flushed red with anger, before stomping away.

  Belle put the Jeep in D and pressed the gas pedal. The Jeep lurched forward, and she whipped the wheel back and forth to guide the machine down the twisting path. She came out between the bell tower and the medical ward and cut left.

  Mr. Justin stood at the entrance of the medical ward, looking her way. She stopped the Jeep and waved him over.

  He stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. “I see you have returned. Did you bring Summer?”

  Belle frowned at the man. Why on earth would he think she knew where the girl was? She held up the nearly-empty bottle of pills and rattled it. “I need more andleprixen for Vaughan.”

  The butler smiled and held his hands out to the side. “I’d be happy to provide more if you return with something of value to exchange. Summer, perhaps?”

  “I don’t know where she is.”

  Mr. Justin’s eyes drifted away, looking over the campus, past the dojo, past the gate. “The senator’s guards are in a helicopter combing the island. It’d be a pity if they found Summer first.”

  “So you’ll just let Vaughan die?”

  Mr. Justin laughed, eyes crinkling. “Vaughan is already dead. The person you’re aiding is Dr. Carlhagen.” He held up a hand. “I know you don’t believe me, and quite frankly, I don’t care. If you want the andleprixen, you’d better find Summer before Alice and her men do.”

  He turned to walk away but paused to look at her over his shoulder. “And do drive carefully, Belle. I would hate for you to get killed in this machine. You are far too valuable to lose merely for Dr. Carlhagen’s sake.”

  With that, he walked off as calmly as if it was any other day in the Scion School. Belle gunned the motor, tore across the quad, and through the gate.

  26

  Some Ancient War Goddess

  Jacey lay panting on the rotten remains of a loft in the windmill ruins. She counted thirty heartbeats. It didn’t take long. She counted thirty more, then slowly shifted her weight. The loft floor creaked and sagged. Light streamed from a crack in the stone wall to her right. Muffled shouts came from outside.

  She rose up and pressed an eye to the crack. The field of view was narrow, but it faced the right way. Curses streamed out of her mouth at her first sight of Alice. The woman was enormous. She wore all black, rolled up sleeves straining around her biceps. Her carriage reminded Jacey of Sensei’s. Every move looked dangerous.

  Alice was stomping toward the tree line. Two similarly dressed men marched to either side. Counting the voice on the walkie-talkie, that made three men and Alice. There could be more, Jacey knew. But they were likely deeper in the forest, looking for Summer.

  Alice stopped, lifted her walkie-talkie to her ear and said something. A second later she raised her left arm and pointed. The man on her left darted in a wide arc. Alice and the remaining guard picked up their pace. She had sent a man in a flanking maneuver.

  She scooted on her butt to the edge of the loft until her feet dangled over the edge. The platform shivered with every movement. With a crack, the section to the left of the beam gave way and crashed to the floor. Jacey rolled right, spreading her arms wide, face planted against the mossy planks. She sought the beam with her toes.

  Nothing.

  But it had to be there or Jacey would have fallen already.

  She eased herself up on all fours, grimacing as the floorboards shifted beneath her. She looked back through her knees and spotted the beam.

  She crept backward, sweat dripping into her eyes. The loose coil of rope dangling around her neck threatened to unbalance her.

  With painstaking care, she secured the rope around the beam and dropped the rest to the floor. Before she could think too much about it, she grabbed hold and swung off the beam.

  Her hands flamed with pain as she slid. The ground rushed toward her, and drove her knees to her chin. She fell backward with a grunt, breath bursting from her throat as her back struck the floor.

  She lay in frozen time. Dust motes spun a lazy vortex, as slow and meaningless as the swirl of stars in the galaxy.

  No sense of pain penetrated that eternal moment. No thought disturbed the utter silence of her mind.

  Her body convulsed in panic as she fought for air.

  The struggle broke on a great, raspy inhalation, filling her lungs and returning time to its normal, ceaseless clip.

  Summer!

  Still fighting for breath, Jacey climbed to her feet. She left the rope hanging, but quickly retrieved the binoculars, thankful Alice hadn’t discovered them. Looping the strap over her head, she tucked the binoculars inside her uniform top to keep them from swinging.

  Vines hung askew from the opening, their severed ends ragged and coiled like decapitated snakes. She pressed through.

  The guards were gone, having slipped into the forest. Jacey staggered away from the windmill. She glanced over both shoulders, searching for the helicopter. There was no sound except her feet through the grass and the distant roar of the waves. The insects and birds had gone silent, scared to stillness by the intruders.

  Jacey tried to run toward the thick trunk of a tamarind tree but managed little more than a fast shuffle. She reached it, exhausted and aching. She twisted her neck and rolled her shoulders, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest.

  Hoping the searchers wouldn’t bother to look backward, she started forward again. She made the tree line and slunk from tree to tree, heading to where she had left Summer at the old house’s wall.

  She froze when she spotted a guard. He had been standing so still she might not have seen him at all, but a slight movement of one of his hands as he signaled to someone had caught Jacey’s attention. Alice rose into view like a black ghost from where she’d been crouching among a thicket of foliage. Together, the two crept forward. Alice lifted the walkie-talkie to her mouth, but if she said something, it was too quiet for Jacey to hear.

  The fact that they were still sneaking meant that Summer hadn’t been captured yet. Jacey didn’t know where the girl was, but with two other men out there searching it seemed likely she was hiding. A burst of static and a squawking voic
e came through the woman’s walkie-talkie. She began to sprint toward the rusted iron gear Jacey and Summer had found the day before.

  A flash of black darted from behind the wheel and headed straight for Jacey.

  It was Summer, her ponytail flying behind her, her legs blurring with speed. Alice moved to cut Summer off, but the girl fell to the ground and rolled right past the woman’s legs. Summer popped up and continued to sprint.

  Men appeared from behind her out of the trees. The woman screamed at them to spread out. They began to circle. Jacey saw they would soon cut off all retreat.

  Jacey wouldn’t allow that. She had no choice but to try a little deceit. She stepped from behind the tree. “Run, Jacey!” she cried at the top of her lungs. She waved her arms, gesturing Summer south. Summer stumbled to a stop, confusion and fear warring on her face.

  “Jacey, go!” Jacey cried.

  Summer got it then and took a few tentative steps away, but then stopped, hands held out, clearly not understanding where Jacey wanted her to go.

  “To the docks,” Jacey hissed. Then, raising her voice, “Please, Jacey, run.”

  Summer ran then, weaving her way among the trees, heading to the thickest part of the forest before disappearing from view. Jacey had a moment to feel pride that the girl didn’t head directly for the docks, but instead headed due west.

  Jacey’s trickery had worked. Only one man pursued Summer. The others continued toward her.

  She backed away as Alice approached. Jacey could see the woman’s face now, all hard angles and fury.

  “Surrender, Summer,” the woman said, voice pounding through the trees like a club. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Jacey continued to backpedal and soon was in the open air beyond the rainforest fringe. She had a vague notion to go back to the windmill. To her left and right, the armed men began to close in. She turned and sprinted.

  But the fall from the beam had taken its toll, and she could barely jog. The man to her left headed straight for the windmill, too, and his angle made the distance shorter.

  Jacey counted three more paces before cutting hard to the right. The man stopped and shuffled sideways to intercept her, hand going to the side arm on his belt.

  “No weapons, Simpson!” shouted the woman. “Tackle her.”

  Jacey ground her teeth and headed straight for the man.

  He widened his stance and held his arms out. He must have seen Summer’s move, and he crouched low on the chance that Jacey would try the same thing.

  All the better, she decided.

  She picked up her speed, putting all the power of her legs into the final steps, then launched herself straight at his head. His eyes widened in surprise and he straightened.

  At the last moment, she tucked her head and threw her shoulder into his chest. They tumbled to the ground, and he wrapped her up in his arms.

  She kicked out and got some separation. Without thinking, she crushed her knee into his groin. He let out a squeal. His grasp loosened.

  Jacey rolled free and clambered to her feet. She would head east and lead these fools away from the docks and buy Summer time to hunker down.

  But she hadn’t taken one step before a huge hand grabbed her collar and jerked her back. Before she knew what was happening, she was slammed onto the ground, face to the sky.

  Alice towered over her, expression as angry as a hurricane front.

  Jacey tried to sit up, flailed her arm weakly at the woman’s leg. The huge guard just stood there and looked down at Jacey.

  “How old are you, girl?”

  “Fourteen,” Jacey rasped.

  “You’re awfully mature-looking for fourteen.” Doubt colored the woman’s face, and she glanced over her shoulder to where Summer had disappeared. She lifted her walkie-talkie. “Status, Garcia?”

  A moment later the man’s voice came back. “Lost her in the woods. Still searching.”

  Jacey realized it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out her trick. Summer had dark hair. Jacey’s was blond. Summer had dark eyes. Jacey’s were a bluish-green.

  Alice straddled Jacey, looking like a colossus of some ancient war goddess. She kneeled and pressed a hand to Jacey’s neck.

  Jacey felt a sharp pinch and cried out, hand going to a small pinprick of pain the woman had made. Her fingertip came away dotted with blood.

  The woman looked at a device in her hand, waiting. It beeped and the woman swore. “This is not the senator’s Scion.”

  She stood, dragging Jacey with her, manhandling Jacey’s wrists behind her. In seconds, Jacey’s hands were bound.

  “Pederson, stay with her.” Next she stabbed a finger at the man Jacey had knocked over. “Simpson! Come with me if you can breathe.”

  “I wasn’t expecting her to attack,” Simpson whined.

  The woman grunted and strode off toward the trees. Moments later the beat of the helicopter came back. Pederson grabbed Jacey’s wrists and twisted, forcing her around. She lost her balance and fell to her knees.

  The helicopter swung overhead and began a fast descent. With a roar and a rush of wind, it landed forty meters away.

  “Get up!” The man yanked on Jacey’s wrists, and it was either stand or have her shoulders dislocated. The man’s grip felt like iron shackles as he guided her toward the helicopter.

  The fall from the beam and the tussle with Simpson and Alice had left Jacey trembling. Mostly from weakness, but also from anger.

  Refusing to make her capture go easily, she intentionally stumbled and fell. The man let go of her wrists. He swore. “Get up.”

  Jacey refused.

  “You want me to carry you? Fine, I’ll carry you.”

  He bent low, hands outstretched. Jacey rolled onto her back and swung a leg hard against his neck, simultaneously bringing the other leg around and clamping him in a sort of retiré passé, which ended with his neck clamped between her thighs.

  He choked and pulled at her legs, face going red. She squeezed harder until he fell onto his back. She released him with her legs and kicked down with a heel, striking his jaw. Something cracked, and he went still.

  She rolled onto her knees, got to her feet, and glanced back at the helicopter. She could see the pilot’s shocked face through the windshield. He began to unbuckle the straps holding him in his seat, but she started away, stumbling at first and then picking up speed.

  She cursed the band that kept her hands behind her back, because it made balancing as she crossed the uneven terrain almost impossible. But she went forward anyway, heading straight for the docks.

  Chancing a look back, she spotted the pilot. He had jumped out of his helicopter, the blades still blurring above it like hummingbird wings. He went to his fallen comrade, pulled the walkie-talkie from the man’s belt, and shouted at it. Whatever response he got, he wasn’t ordered to pursue Jacey on foot.

  He lifted his compatriot, stuffed him in the helicopter, then climbed in. Jacey continued to run. Fiery fear coursed down her spine as she heard the helicopter take off. Soon it was hovering twenty meters above her. The wash of its blades brought with it the acrid stench of motor exhaust. She coughed and stumbled.

  But she kept going.

  It seemed the pilot was keeping an eye on her, his only objective to make sure she didn’t escape.

  Fine, she thought. She veered away from the docks. Why lead them to where Summer was going?

  She made her way back to the old plantation road where the way was slightly easier. Too late she realized that, from the air, they would be able to see the path of the old road and know where it led. She stopped and considered heading back uphill to the north side, putting more separation between the helicopter and the senator’s guards. Not that it would matter. It could cover that distance in minutes.

  With a roar of power, the helicopter lifted higher and charged ahead. It flew to the docks and descended behind a band of trees. Out of its view, Jacey realized she had a chance to escape. But the fact it had left her co
uld only mean that Summer had been captured at the docks. It was going there to collect her.

  Jacey groaned with frustration at her inability to help Summer or to even help herself. But while there was fight left in her, she would not allow one of her Scions to be overwritten. She marched down the plantation road, screaming for Summer, hurling curses at the helicopter, at Alice, and at her men.

  Sweating and panting, she finally reached a patch of cover near the docks just as the helicopter lifted off.

  It was too late. They had Summer.

  She kept close to the trees, well hidden by the canopy overhead. The helicopter circled once, twice, and then disappeared to the west.

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, Jacey staggered toward the concrete quay lining the shore. The water sparkled a deep blue, serene and eternal. It stretched to the horizon, a fence of a different kind.

  Jacey was so sick of being trapped here.

  She dropped onto the rough ground and struggled to draw her arms beneath her, but they were bound so tightly she couldn’t squeeze through. The temptation to give up, to lie back and let sobs take control of her, nearly got the best of her. But instead, she got back on her feet and continued forward. If the helicopter returned, it would not find her there.

  She came to the road between the docks and the machine sheds. Her eyes scanned for any sign of struggle, but a strange peace lay over the world.

  And then she saw what she’d first missed. Tears came freely then. She made no effort to stop them.

  The skiff was gone.

  Summer had escaped.

  27

  Have a Nice Swim

  Jacey laughed and fell to her knees, drawing in ragged breaths. A burst of pride filled her. That Summer, a fourteen-year-old girl, had managed to get the boat motor started and slip away, was nothing short of amazing.

  A crunch sounded behind her. Not footsteps. It was accompanied by the roar of an engine.