“So be it,” Sensei said. The hardness in his gaze made Belle shiver. The sense of eminent explosion radiating from him was stronger than ever.
“It’s a desperate plan,” Belle said.
“We’re desperate,” Summer said matter-of-factly.
“What about the other Scions?” Belle asked. “There are six boys, Spiders through Eagles, who could fight alongside you, very well-trained.”
“No,” Sensei said. “The Spiders are only fourteen. If the guards start shooting . . .”
“Then they die now rather than in four years,” Belle said.
Having a problem to work on helped to calm her, even if she was ambivalent about the objective. Her mind pulled on the loose threads of the issue, trying to untie the knot. “If we could communicate with the boys, we could tell only the older boys to help, keep the young ones inside. At the very least, they could help distract the guards. And they’re Scions. They’re too expensive to shoot. Even the senator has to have given her guards instructions on that point.”
Sensei gave a non-committal grunt.
“She’s right,” Mother Tyeesha said, surprising Belle. “The boys have the right to defend themselves. But what about the girls? Surely they can stand beside you, too.”
Summer’s face twisted into a wry grimace. “We’re not trained in martial arts.”
It was Mother Tyeesha’s turn to glower, this time at Sensei.
He lowered his eyes. “Dr. Carlhagen insisted it be that way. He wanted girls to dance and boys to fight.”
“And boys don’t get to dance?” Mother Tyeesha asked primly.
“Oh, they do. Some of them,” Summer said, rolling her eyes. “All we learned from Sensei was Tai Chi.”
“You girls might be surprised to find what you’re capable of,” Sensei said with a grim smile. “Dr. Carlhagen had no idea what deadly skills come with Tai Chi instruction. Still, I don’t like this idea of Scions in conflict with armed men. Besides, it would be impossible to coordinate.”
“Not impossible,” Summer said. “It’ll be easy once we get close enough. We can use this.” She produced a reader from her satchel. The girl was suddenly smiling like she had smuggled a pint of ice cream into Girls’ Hall, which Belle had caught her doing more than once.
Belle snapped her fingers. “Give it to me.”
Summer snatched it back. “No, it’s mine.”
“Let her have it,” Sensei said. “Belle will need it to contact the boys.”
“So what’s my job in this plan?” Summer asked, foot resuming its back and forth twitch.
“You can drive the skiff to Isaac’s Beach,” Sensei said. “And you’ll stay there. I don’t want you anywhere near the campus until I’ve eliminated any chance the senator will overwrite you.”
Summer started to grow sullen. Belle had seen this behavior countless times. If allowed to continue, Summer would refuse to speak to any of them. “Don’t be a brat.”
Summer said nothing.
“Timing is going to be essential,” Sensei said. “The problem is that I don’t know how long it’ll take to get to the beach.”
“I can tell you,” Summer said, still pouting.
Sensei waited, using the force of his presence to melt Summer’s bad attitude.
She relaxed a bit and with a huff of impatience demanded, “Can someone draw a reasonably accurate map of the island? And maybe estimate some distances?”
“I can do better than that,” Mother said. She tottered down the hall and returned with a paper map. Summer took it, suddenly absorbed in the details.
“I would have given my left leg for this,” she said. “I need my reader back for a minute.”
Belle handed it over. Summer began tapping on the reader. “Assuming a top speed of the skiff, I think we can get to Isaac’s Beach in fifty minutes.”
“There’s no way I can get from here to the front gate that fast,” Belle said.
“Forget that.” Summer stabbed a finger at an inlet on the map. “We’ll drop you off here. The road is just one hundred meters from shore, and that’ll put you . . .” She measured the distance with her thumb and compared it to the map scale. “Three kilometers from the front gate. You can run that far, can’t you?”
Belle didn’t rise to Summer’s bait. She had plenty of experience dealing with Spiders. There was something about being fourteen that made girls extra disrespectful.
“That would be a seventeen-minute run at a good clip,” Sensei said.
Belle didn’t appreciate him setting her pace for her, though she kept her displeasure to herself.
Summer tapped on her reader again, mood suddenly cheerful as if a cloud had parted to reveal the sun. “Perfect. It’ll take another ten minutes to reach Isaac’s Beach from Belle’s drop-off. Figure another fifteen minutes from there up the east path to campus.”
She looked up. “But how are we going to coordinate this? If Belle and the boys distract the men too early, the whole plan will fall apart.”
“This will be the signal.” Sensei pulled something from his pocket and held it up.
The remote control for the front gate.
“When I’m in position, I’ll open the gate. That alone will create a bit of a diversion. Belle will go in and lead the guards away from the east path. I’ll come in a few minutes later and get into the medical ward.”
Looking down on the map, Belle felt like she stood at the top of a very long fall. But Sensei was right. There was no way off the island without help. And if the plan worked—if she could deny Dr. Carlhagen possession of Jacey—it would be worth the risk. And who knew, maybe they could figure out how to avoid Mr. Justin’s kidnappers in the bargain.
34
Extreme Pain Creation
The news that Vaughan had been overwritten by Dr. Carlhagen produced an odd swirl of emotions in the dining room. If the window had not allowed in a freshening breeze, Humphrey thought they might all have roasted from the anger. As it was, even the fragrant island air couldn’t mask the bitter fear that roiled in each of the Scions.
So much energy. If only we could channel it.
But channel where? The problems they faced could not be overcome with anger. Could they?
Not and keep everyone safe at the same time. That had been Jacey’s quandary.
She keeps everyone safe but herself.
Elias sat very still, elbows on the table, thumbnail between his teeth, eyes far away. The boy was nearly as deadly as Vaughan. Sang, too.
Humphrey’s eyes skimmed over Horace. The boy was the dullest minded of any Scion, except when some cruelty was afoot. Sensei had broken him of his habitual torturing of bugs and geckos, but that didn’t mean those impulses weren’t boiling under the surface.
Tytus slouched so low in his chair Humphrey could only see the top of his head. Impossibly, it seemed like he might be asleep.
Wanda. Smart and calm. Except today. He’d never seen her so upset before. The days she’d been in charge of Jacey’s Nine had brought out a natural leadership ability Humphrey would never have suspected. How could that be used?
Dajeet. Brilliant, quiet, and sarcastic. Humphrey had always assumed she was imitating Belle, but he saw now that she thought for herself. A mistake to assume dullness in a person who doesn’t say much, he realized. A big mistake.
His eyes went back to the other quiet one. Sang had always seemed like a punching bag. Taking blows, but impervious to them, he swung away from attack then came to rest where he’d been before. But Sang suffered from comparisons to Vaughan and Elias. Truth was, he’d beaten Humphrey in every sparring match they’d had.
Bethancy’s eyes were on him, resentment plain in her expression. He couldn’t blame her for that. Of course, she was quick to be injured by the slightest comment. The thought brought a mirthless smile to his lips. He could say the same about himself.
“Who is my Progenitor?” she asked suddenly, voice loud and brash in the quiet. Tytus sat up straight, startled.
Voices broke into a shouting match as each demanded the same thing. Humphrey held up his hands and whistled for silence. Miraculously, it worked. They all stopped blabbering at once.
But their eyes weren’t on him.
He turned to the door.
“Damn,” he said.
Two men garbed in black stood there. They held hard-edged black pistols at their sides, casually.
One, slightly older and utterly bald, clomped into the room, eyes sweeping faces for threats. His demeanor said he found none. “You will all stay here for the moment.” He lifted his gun and waved it vaguely at Humphrey. “You. Where’s the butler?”
Humphrey slowly stood and gathered his most Dr. Carlhagen-ish expression. “What is the meaning of this? How dare you barge into my home brandishing your weapons. There are Scions present! Do you have any idea how valuable they are?”
“Drop the act. You’re not Dr. Carlhagen and we know it.” He stepped closer. Though he stood eye to eye with Humphrey, the thickness of the man’s neck and shoulders spoke of a potential for extreme pain creation. Pain he was more than happy to inflict.
The man’s hand shot toward Humphrey’s neck. Years of drilling under Sensei’s direction brought Humphrey’s arm up in a deflective move, catching the man’s wrist. But speed wasn’t Humphrey’s forte, and he couldn’t stop the counterattack.
A flash of white and red blocked Humphrey’s vision, accompanied by the yells of the Scions.
The pain followed on a moment later, sharp as an axe blade. Humphrey stumbled into the table and nearly fell, but the man caught him by the lapel of his suit coat. Wetness trickled from Humphrey’s temple, along his cheekbones, and into the corner of his mouth. Blood.
“Where is the butler?” the bald man demanded.
Wanda’s voice, low but full of ice, cut across the room. “He doesn’t know. Mr. Justin sent us all here, but none of us knows why. We are waiting for him.”
The bald man smiled, showing a wide, perfect set of teeth. Except for one molar, which was missing. “I guess we’ll all wait together. Simpson! Go stand at the front door, out of sight. Subdue the butler if he returns and bring him here.”
“Yessir.” Simpson hustled away. Humphrey noted a pronounced limp in the man’s gait.
“All of you, sit!”
They sat, some quicker than others. Elias, proud and defiant, took his sweet time about it. Humphrey would have smacked him upside the head if he hadn’t still been in the grip of the senator’s guard.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Humphrey said, dropping the Dr. Carlhagen voice.
“Sir will do.” He released Humphrey and stepped back to the door, dragging a dining room chair with him. He placed it sideways in the entrance so he could watch the dining room and hallway at the same time.
The room started to spin and Humphrey scrambled for his own chair. His hand went to his temple and came away bloody. He snatched a cloth napkin from the table and pressed it to his wound. The man must have hit him with the butt of his weapon.
Somehow the senator had figured out Humphrey was an imposter. The only way that could have happened was if Mr. Justin had told him. But why?
35
Wakes Up With a Broken Arm
Jacey stood very still in the little hallway leading to the transfer room. The door to that room was closed, as was the door opposite leading into the main medical ward. The corridor seemed full of people, mostly because Alice took up so much space.
By contrast, the senator’s nurse, Miss Dayspring, barely registered in Jacey’s attention. The woman had either a great skill at appearing insignificant or she was truly a person of no substance.
Jacey fidgeted to cover a slight repositioning of her feet, angling herself so that she could move away from the transfer room. If her hands hadn’t been bound, she could have touched the door. She also could have touched Miss Dayspring.
“What’s taking so long?” Alice grumbled.
“Dr. Carlhagen and the AI are beginning the initial scan of the senator’s brain,” said Miss Dayspring.
“I understand that.” Alice looked like she might bite the nurse in half. “Why can’t we take the Scion in?”
“The senator was a bit nervous. Dr. Carlhagen thought it might help her if there was quiet in the room for a while.”
The woman’s huge hands plopped onto Jacey’s shoulders, just on either side of her neck. “I’ll keep her quiet.”
Jacey let herself fall to the floor as if her bones had disappeared, slipping out of Alice’s grip. She no sooner struck the floor than she rolled past Alice, sprang to her feet, and hurled herself at the door leading to the main ward. She twisted, scrabbling with her bound hands for the latch. She turned it, leaned forward, and hooked her heel around the door.
Alice strode toward her, hands outstretched. Miss Dayspring’s shrieks stabbed at Jacey’s ears. The door opened, and Jacey squeezed through. She had no plan other than to run. The door slammed shut behind her, but she heard it swing open less than a second later.
She put everything she had into her strides, driven even faster by Alice’s pounding footfalls. The closed door leading to the ward’s foyer approached fast. She would have to turn her back to it to grab the handle.
Her knees hit the floor, followed by her shoulder, and cheek. Her breath blew out as an impossible weight bore down on top her. Alice’s knee ground into her spine.
The woman grasped Jacey’s hair and pulled her head back. The knee released, but Alice still pulled on the hair and forced Jacey to stand. Without a word, she guided Jacey back into the little corridor, shoved her against the wall, stood toe to toe with her, and crossed her arms. “You won’t try that again. I would hate to have to apologize to the senator if she wakes up with a broken arm. But I understand Scions heal quickly.”
Jacey returned the stare, filling it with as much hatred as she could muster. It was spoiled somewhat by the tears of pain trickling down her cheeks, which just made her angrier.
Miss Dayspring looked away.
The door to the transfer room opened, and Dr. Carlhagen peered out. “Bring her in.”
Before his command was finished, Alice had grabbed Jacey and started shoving her through. Jacey resisted for a moment and then was swept from her feet. Seconds later, Alice slammed her down on the cot next to the transfer machine. Alice held her down as Dr. Carlhagen cut the bonds on Jacey’s wrists.
She flailed, landing a good blow on Dr. Carlhagen’s chin. He staggered back.
Alice threw her weight on top of Jacey, and in seconds, she and Dr. Carlhagen had secured the straps. Jacey screamed and struggled, but she could barely move her head, let alone her arms and legs.
“We must hurry,” Dr. Carlhagen said. “The senator is fading fast. Greta, how goes the initial scan?”
“Very well, Dr. Carlhagen,” said the AI in charge of transfers.
“Can you hurry it up?”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Carlhagen, but the process is the process.”
“Okay. Everyone out.”
“I’m not moving,” Alice said.
“Go ahead, Alice.” It was an old, tired voice, obviously the senator’s. “I value your concern, but quite frankly you’re emitting too much negativity.”
Alice let out an animal grunt, then strode out of the transfer room. Miss Dayspring stood by the door, clearly not knowing if she should stay or go.
Jacey met her gaze, pleading. She tried to talk, but the gag made her retch.
Miss Dayspring shuffled to Jacey’s side. “I think this gag is too tight.”
“Gag?” Dr. Carlhagen said. He strode next to Miss Dayspring. “Aww,” he said with mock concern, “you poor dear.”
He removed the gag, and Jacey drew in deep breaths. She wanted to say many things but decided not to give Dr. Carlhagen an excuse to replace the gag. Instead she made eye contact with Miss Dayspring. “Thank you.
”
Dr. Carlhagen handed the cloth rag to Miss Dayspring. The woman made a face as she took the rag by the corner and carried it out of view.
“Progress, Greta?” Dr. Carlhagen asked.
“Almost ready, sir. We’re getting very close.”
36
Whose Little Puppet Are You?
The bald guard leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. Humphrey doubted the man was sleeping. In fact, there was a certain quality emanating from the man, a kind of sadistic hunger that reminded him of Horace. Humphrey suspected the man was trying to lure them into action, which would then justify his violent—and probably deadly—reaction.
The girls sat very still, sharing glances, and, in Bethancy’s case, chewing her lower lip in a display of nervousness. Sang sat very rigid in his chair, but unlike Elias, he did not seem ready to jump into attack. If anything, he seemed ready to slip under the table and hide.
Funny how danger brought out a person’s true nature. As it was doing with Horace. The stupid boy was grinning.
Tytus seemed to be modeling his behavior after Wanda’s. He kept his face calm, serious. No sign of nervousness showed through.
A slight change in Elias’s posture brought the attention of everyone except the guard. Elias shook his head slightly, glancing at the door. With painfully slow movements, he put his hand behind his back and lifted his uniform shirt.
Humphrey glared at him. Elias could be impulsive sometimes, but his greatest gift as a fighter was patience, his ability to wait for just the right moment to attack.
Elias’s hand came back to his lap, but he seemed to be holding something. Humphrey couldn’t see it, but Sang could. The boy’s eyes widened and darted from whatever Elias held to the door.
A weapon? But where would Elias have gotten one? The only guns on the island—besides those brought by the senator’s bodyguards—were Mr. Justin’s rifle and Dr. Carlhagen’s pistol, both of which the butler had locked up somewhere.
Child of Lies Page 22