Pretty Monster

by Somers, Jill

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. Quite a mouthful.

  “The official statement of the UNCODA is as such: Six years ago, directly following the deviant terrorist attack in Ottowa, the Federal Bureau of Investigation—an American bureau—declared Cole Crowley president of the Deviant Collection Agency. He was charged with the responsibility of all matters related to the safety and security of civilians known as ‘regulars’ in relation to the deviant community. Simultaneously, the UNCODA was formed. We agreed to assist the United States in the collection of any deviants who had fled the United States, and to help fund their efforts to do so domestically. It was our belief that it was a necessary measure to keep the rest of the world safe from what we considered their mistake. In exchange for our help, we required, in no uncertain terms, that the DCA were not to kill any more deviants—that all deviants were to be exiled to the facility known as Devil’s Island.

  “When Mr. Crowley came to us for permission to deploy a nuclear warhead into Devil’s Island, his request was denied. He tried to convince us, insisting that a group of lethal individuals there was plotting to, in his words, ‘take over the world,’ and that a nuclear strike was the only option he had. He claimed that he would safely remove all deviants not involved in said plot before unleashing the weapon. Despite all of this, I reiterate to all who are listening: his request was denied.”

  Lauren paused, letting her words sink in to the millions of people watching.

  “With what we assume was approval from the United States government,” Lauren continued, “the strike commenced. Upon the release of several videos recorded by those left on the island who survived the attack, we learned that the issue was more complicated than Mr. Crowley had let on. We requested a meeting with him immediately. Our request was ignored. Within days, the second attack on Siloh occurred.”

  Quinn was almost starting to like Lauren, despite the fact that she had been the one in charge of collecting deviants around the world for six years. Almost.

  Savannah was the first to be called to the stand. Quinn wondered why her and Rory’s premonition had jumped ahead of this speech, but she wasn’t concerned. Their premonitions had proved themselves by now. It was probably just because Savannah wasn’t going to say anything worth worrying about ahead of time.

  Interestingly, though Savannah didn’t say anything that caused the resistance’s movement any trouble, she did bring a few new things to the table.

  “I am finished lying,” Savannah said to the world, “and I am finished working with men like Mr. Crowley. I know that I made a terrible mistake. Nothing I did is forgivable, and I accept whatever punishment I am given. I would just like to explain my side of things from the beginning… To tell you all what kind of man you have entrusted with a huge budget, a small army, and—at least in the case of the Americans—permission to kill.

  “I knew Mr. Crowley before the event. I was his lawyer. I could get into all of the scandals he was involved in back then, all of the terrible things he had me do for him, but I won’t. Even now, not having practiced law in a decade, I am bound to the same attorney-client privilege I was back then. Honor is important to me… I doubt many of you believe me, but it is.

  “When the event occurred, both of my sons were affected, along with my younger son’s girlfriend and our neighborhood friend, Ridley, who is sitting behind me at this very moment.”

  Ridley gave a strange, awkward wave; Quinn tried not to giggle. She could tell from Dash’s stiffness next to her that he was in no mood to laugh. He wanted to hear this story. He wanted to hear how it had all began.

  “Initially, I didn’t understand what it all meant. I knew that one of my sons—Dash—was visibly affected. I knew that he had become incredibly beautiful… So beautiful, I feared for him. I knew that Ridley had been visibly affected, too, in a different way. I feared for him, too. But I didn’t understand, yet, what the world would turn them into. To me, they were the same children they had been before the event. The same children I was responsible for.

  “But then, rather quickly, the name ‘deviant’ came along, and the word was like poison, and everyone who looked different or who made something happen that wasn’t supposed to happen was swept off into the prisons, and everyone else was so afraid, they didn’t fight back. And the resistance began, and the thought of my children dying for the cause scared me even more than the thought of my children being arrested. I wanted to protect them. So I came to Mr. Crowley. He had more money than anyone else I knew. He had ties high up in the government, even then. I knew that if anyone could help me, he could.

  “He smiled at me, and he told me that he was glad I had come to him. He told me that he had already bought an island—one so far on the outskirts of the world, the horrors happening in our country couldn’t touch it. He told me that he was already reaching out to his friends—many of whom are in this room today—telling them about his island, that he would offer it up, for free, to be a different kind of prison—one that could actually hold these people—one that could keep them far away. It wouldn’t really be a prison, of course. He knew that, and I knew that. If we’re being honest, I think everyone knew that. But as far as you all were concerned, out of sight, out of mind. None of you wanted anything to do with the deviants, and here was a man offering to pay for a solution.”

  So far, her story pretty much lined up with the stories Dash had told her. Still, she could sense that more was coming—more details—details that, she only hoped, would incriminate Crowley farther.

  “His friends agreed, and I agreed, and I moved there willingly with my sons and Ridley. My son’s girlfriend refused to join us. She didn’t trust Crowley… She was smart. Not long after we moved there, I began to realize how hard it was going to be. There were a few abandoned buildings there, places for us to sleep, and we had come with enough food and supplies for a while… but not forever. I reached out to Mr. Crowley and asked him what his plan was. How were we going to eat? How were we going to live? Had he thought any of this through?

  “He told me that I had two options. I could continue to live in an isolated paradise. He would continue to send me ‘recruits,’ and we would find the means to take care of ourselves on our own. Catch fish, he told me. Pick fruits. Cross your fingers and hope for the best.

  “Option two, he would appoint me the assistant director of the DCA and the unofficial ‘president’ of Siloh. He would ship me any goods I might need, even send me teachers and workers to train the deviants on the island to build and grow and work. In exchange, I was to turn the inhabitants of the island into an army. A group of people who would fight for him when the time came. A group of tamed, obedient soldiers. Preferably, a group that contained a seer.”

  Murmurs erupted in the room, but Dash remained completely silent. His eyes were riveted to his mother. He had not heard this story before. Quinn hadn’t, either. She couldn’t imagine what must be running through his mind at that moment.

  “It wasn’t that simple, of course. I knew that immediately. My younger son, Dash, was still in contact with his girlfriend back on the mainland. She was quickly becoming the leader of the entire resistance—you all would know her as Blackout. I knew I could never convince Dash to work for a man like Mr. Crowley. So I didn’t even try.

  “I counter-offered Mr. Crowley. I knew we were all going to starve if I did nothing. I knew I would be giving not only my sons, but so many others, a life not worth living. I knew I had to give him something. So I told him that I would select the best army I could for him. I told him I would pinpoint the weak ones, the desperate ones, the ones who lacked the morality and character that people like Dash had. And I did. I began to form the alliance. Not long after, my son began to form the island’s own resistance.”

  From Dash, not a word. Not a blink. Quinn was pretty sure he wasn’t breathing.

  “It took years, but the more I got to know what kind of man Mr. Crowley truly was, the more I realized what he was inevitably going to do with everyone wh
o didn’t join the alliance. I knew he would kill them. I knew he wouldn’t think twice about it. I tried to think of ways around it. I tried to think of things I could do. I could get Reese out—the son I knew would be obedient—and I could get the alliance out. And what could I do for Dash? I could pray for him. Or… I could do something I hadn’t done in a very long time.

  “You see, I wasn’t visibly affected in the event, but I was affected. I kept it a secret from Mr. Crowley. I kept it a secret from everyone. I knew that it would be a thousand times easier for me to protect my sons if the world thought I was a regular. And of all the abilities I could have had, mine was the easiest to hide. It wasn’t a physical power, you see.”

  Quinn stared at her in awe, heart nearly stopping.

  Savannah was a seer.

  “I had only seen the future a handful of times. I hadn’t practiced. I had virtually ignored the ability altogether. I had no idea whether my plan would work or not. But I couldn’t get the resistance out, which meant I had one alternative: I had to help them survive the attack. I assumed that their seer was Quinn Harper, though I had never been able to prove it—I think a part of me had always tried not to. I knew what Mr. Crowley would do to her if he knew. The same thing he would do to me. So, I closed my eyes and focused on nothing but sending Quinn that premonition—the premonition I kept having—the premonition of the nuclear attack.”

  Dash finally looked over at her, eyes wide, confused. “She’s lying,” he whispered. “She must be lying.”

  “It didn’t work at first,” Savannah continued. “Quinn didn’t fully accept herself as a seer yet. When I finally got into her head enough to dig, I realized that the child—Rory—was a seer, too. They were most powerful when they joined forces. I focused on sending the premonition to both of them. For several days, I could still only get flashes across to them. Quinn was trying too hard to protect Rory. It wasn’t until the final hour that she finally gave in and let Rory see what I was trying to show them.”

  Quinn’s mind raced as she watched Savannah. Everything the woman was saying was so spot-on, it was hard not to believe her. She squinted, searching the woman for any signs of the psychic connection that she and Rory shared. Was it possible she would be able to telepathically communicate with Savannah, too?

  And there it was. The words continued to escape Savannah’s lips, but different words poured into Quinn and Rory’s heads. Words projected right at them.

  I don’t ask for your forgiveness, she told them. I just want Dash to be happy.

  “It’s true,” she whispered to Dash, a tear running down her cheek again, this time a truly happy tear. After all this time, after Dash had thought his mother had abandoned him altogether, she had saved his life.

  “If you recall,” Savannah pointed out, “I was nowhere near the second attack. I did everything I could to warn Mr. Crowley not to attack. But I also knew, even then, that the resistance would win. Not because I foresaw it, but because I knew them. I had seen them fight. None of us are a match for them, you see. We should consider ourselves lucky they don’t want to take over the world. We would lose.”

  She cleared her throat, considering saying more. Her final words were limited.

  “I think that is all. Just know that I am sorry. And to my sons… Know that I love you both. Whatever happens.”

  Utter silence as she took her seat. No applause. Nothing.

  Crowley rose without being invited to the stand. Quinn could see nothing but rage on his face. He was a ruined man. Maybe they hadn’t even needed to do all of the extra digging, she reckoned. Maybe Savannah’s story had been enough all along.

  His speech was more or less the same. He came in with a booming laugh, telling them all that Savannah was a crazy liar, that she was not a deviant, that she was simply a master manipulator. He told them that he had agreed to get her the goods and the teachers from the beginning, that he had been in love with her from the beginning, that the only reason the alliance existed was because she planned on taking over the world with them. Unbeknownst to him.

  It was nothing they weren’t prepared for.

  “I knew it would be hard for you all to believe,” Crowley said, just as he had in the premonition. “I’m a smart man when it comes to everything but love. So, I ask you to call upon the people who followed Savannah. Ask them. Ask them what she promised them. Ask them whether they intended to take over the world. Ask them whether or not I knew about it.”

  One by one, each member of the alliance was called to the stand. One by one, they each denied Crowley’s story. Quinn didn’t feel great about the lie Charlie and Trent had told them—that Crowley would kill them all when he got away—but considering they had all left their friends to die in a nuclear attack, she refused to let herself feel too guilty.

  Reese, she noticed, was nowhere to be found. Not that Charlie and Trent had even tried convincing him. Of all the members of the alliance, he was without a doubt the most far gone.

  Shade was the last to speak against Crowley, and he did what Quinn had counted on him to do: after denying Crowley’s story, he introduced his own.

  The story of Charlotte’s death.

  He told it slowly, but emphatically—the same way he had told it to her. He wasn’t careful with his words, wasn’t sensitive to the pain or shock that he would be inflicting on so many people in the room. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be.

  When he was finished telling his story, over the scoffs and shouts of an infuriated Crowley, Shade asked the weapon-maker to come forward.

  Quinn scanned the audience, eyebrows narrowed. She had compelled the man just before they traveled to the summit, then again just after they had landed. You are to ride with us to the summit and act like our guest, she had told him. When Shade calls you to the stand, you are to tell the truth—the whole truth—nothing but the truth—about the weapon you made for Cole Crowley.

  And he did.

  It wasn’t obvious, by any means, that he had been compelled. For all anyone in that room knew, he was just a little different—not unlike Shade.

  Crowley, of course, jumped to the podium the moment the man was finished speaking.

  “She’s compelled him! Can’t you see it in his eyes? Can’t you remember what the Siren is capable of? She’s compelled him to say—”

  Haley rose, eyes calm, expression certain. She stepped up to the podium without being asked, and began to speak.

  “If I may,” she said, not waiting for permission. She addressed Lauren directly. “Director, even if Quinn were able to compel such a specific action out of this man, she wouldn’t be able to make up a story like this. She wouldn’t know how to build a weapon like this—what materials he should say that he had purchased. This knowledge is coming from him because he experienced it. He made this weapon. For Crowley. He is speaking the truth.”

  “Lies,” Crowley shouted; “all lies!”

  Ridley stood at this point, walking up to join them at the stand. “We had a feeling it wouldn’t be enough. That you’d need time to research the story—to speak amongst yourselves—come to a certain conclusion.”

  Haley smiled calmly, surfacing something from her pocket: the letter.

  Crowley froze.

  “Mr. Crowley,” Lauren said. “Please take your seat. Miss Mylar, Mr. Jeffries, please continue.”

  For a moment, Crowley didn’t move. He stood there, petrified, unwilling to let his enemies divulge any more of his secrets. But then the security officers rose, hands moving toward their weapons, and seeing that, he left the stand.

  “This is a letter,” Haley said to the audience, “that we found stowed away in an air vent near the ceiling of Reese Collins’—that is, Savannah’s older son’s—room.”

  And Haley read them all the letter.

  When she was finished, Crowley went right back to the buffoonish laughing and yelling. He demanded that it was a forged letter, that anybody could forge a letter, that it wasn’t even his handwriting. Lau
ren kicked him off the stage again at that point, calling to the stand a secretary of the UNCODA who had personally handled documents involving Crowley’s handwriting and signature. The secretary affirmed that both were his.

  • • •

  A recess was called, at which point both Savannah and Crowley were put into handcuffs and escorted away from the stage. Most of the room emptied out into the lobby of the building, eager to stretch their legs and discuss the chain of events that was unfolding. Lauren and the UNCODA officials disappeared to a private conference room. Rory ran off to see her parents again, as did several others in their section, Pence included. But not Quinn and Dash. They stayed there, glued to their chairs, both dazed.

  “You’re sure?” Dash asked her. “Sure that she’s telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know, Dash,” she admitted, stress bubbling to the surface at the sheer thought of what he must be going through. “I’m sure she’s a seer. I could hear her voice in my head as she was giving that speech. Rory could, too. But whether she put that premonition in our heads to save us?” She sighed. “What she said lined up with what I went through with Rory. Once we had the first premonition, I think we were able to have the second on our own… Then, the one of the summit, it came out of nowhere. I’m tempted to say she sent us that one, too. To stop Crowley.”

  “Her story… It made sense, didn’t it? In a strange sort of way.”

  “It did. I think it made sense to all of them, too.” She gestured to the mostly-empty auditorium. “That’s why Crowley was so afraid.”

  “Do you think they’ll let her off the hook?”

  Quinn considered this. Savannah may have been manipulated into doing most of the things she had done, but she had still done them. She could have said no—could have found alternatives. Could have warned someone in the real world that an entire island was going to be attacked for the wrong reasons. Besides, there had never been any guarantee that, even with the premonition, they would live. They had all been uncertain; she must have, too.