by Terina Adams
I glanced at Jerome, but he was already on his way past the sweeper, as was Fethon and Ishren, leaving the sweeper and me as an island amongst the moving sea of prisoners.
“You will follow me.”
By now, a few stragglers were left. The sweeper ignored them and set off at a brisk pace, expecting me to keep up. We headed in the opposite direction. The last prisoners at the back of the line stared at the two of us passing, open curiosity to why I should be so special. Amongst them, there may be those who would be willing to help me with my spirited ideas. I watched them back for the microseconds I had, asking questions in my head. Would any of these people be willing to take the risk and escape with me?
These people were all grafted, as was I. We were helpless. But the thought of giving in made me feel mummified, suffocated under the binds of the senate. If I wanted to get out, I needed to recruit others to help. Maybe everyone in this place had been broken—they moved about as if they were—but I had to try. At times like this, destruction would be thrashing beneath my skin, a constant reminder of my potential, who I was, and what it meant. Who was I now? Nothing. The same girl I was months ago when Dad was taken from us, leaving us struggling to pay our rent. I didn’t want to be that girl anymore. I wasn’t special with destruction, but I had choices. I could save Mum and Ajay. There was nothing I could do now. Damn you, Archon. He was going to cage me. The senate would not tame me.
There were no distinguishing features to guide me from one corridor to the next, one level to the next. I didn’t need to ask the sweeper where we were going. He stopped at a door, Archon’s office door, skimming his eyes over the top of my head like I wasn’t there. I took that to mean I was to go inside. The hiss of the opening door, without his prompting, confirmed it. Archon was waiting.
Archon sat behind his desk, an illuminated display of what looked like data in front of him. He looked through the scrolling data to me. In an instant, the image disappeared, and he rose from his chair. “Breakfast was to your liking, I hope. You made some friends, I see."
Them watching us didn’t surprise me. “I’m a gregarious person. Was I meant to sit on my own?”
“Friends are encouraged. These are bonds that may stay with you once you are released. It makes integration back into society run smoothly.”
“Then why am I not exercising with everyone else?”
“That is not on your schedule for this morning. You have plenty of time to further your friendships.”
Did they want to experiment on me?
“Sit, please.” He motioned to the chair I sat in yesterday.
Once I slumped into the seat, he wove back around his desk and relaxed into his comfortable-looking chair. I blinked once then stared as the back of the chair outlined the contours of his body like it was snuggling him close. One mental shakeup drew me back to more important things.
I was not going to play his games. “The men I spoke to at breakfast mentioned experiments.”
He huffed to himself. “I suspected the conversation would come up soon enough.”
“It’s true then?”
“We prefer the word trials.” He eased farther back. “The grafts are an effective but outdated technology. Over time, our understanding of the way our biosystems work has improved. It stands to reason we would continue to study, develop, and implement the latest technical advances for the betterment of our people.”
Weird way to put it, but biosystems had to mean the body. He made it sound positive, improving their understanding of the body for the betterment of the people, but really he meant improving their understanding of people’s factional natures and how to suppress them.
“The grafts were a great advance at the time, but their effectiveness is decreasing over time. Plus, there were and still are implementation limitations.”
Meaning many in the fringe or outer regions were missed. And what did he mean by the graft’s effectiveness decreasing over time? Were people becoming immune?
“We’re in the process of researching different ways of producing the same outcome without the need for grafts, less evasive technologies that are easier to administer.”
He made everything sound harmless and reasonable. The research was driven by the senate’s need to maintain their rule. I did not for one moment believe any altruism on their behalf to make living together harmonious. It was the outcome, sure. But now that destruction and I were separated, I wanted back the part of myself that made me a better, stronger person, the part that meant no one could cage me. Holden was driven by his belief in everyone’s right to be whole. Stuck in this compound, listening to the insincerities preached by Archon, I sided with Holden. After what he’d done, I never thought I would feel that way. But the senate had no right to graft me against my will, not while they were willing to avoid the same measures for themselves and other key people who helped keep them where they wanted to be.
“Am I here in your office rather than joining everyone else because you’re putting me in the trials?”
“It’s a great opportunity.”
“For who?”
Archon bowed his head. I caught the sly smile.
“I’m impressed by you,” he said once he resurfaced from his private chuckle. “Few are so forthright. Are all your people like this?”
This was the first time he directly admitted knowing my citizen status, namely alien.
“I should very much like to meet more of your kind.”
“But the senate forbids dimensional shifts. Is that right?”
“For now. But you, Sable, may change their minds.”
“How?”
“Once we see what you’re capable of.”
Jesus, what was he saying? “No more special than anyone in your world.” They could not be thinking of invading earth to gather innocents to trial in their laboratories like rats. “There are few people like me in my world.”
“I know someone who would refute such a claim.”
The saliva dried in my mouth, gluing my lips together.
Archon’s gaze skimmed over my head to the doorway. I’d not heard the hiss of the door opening, but someone caught his attention. “Isn’t that right?” He spoke to whomever else had entered.
I turned. Carter advanced into the room, and all I could do was watch him while a hot, black anger boiled through my blood, turning it lava. At the sight of Carter, I craved violence. If destruction were still a part of me, it would be making its way along his neural pathways by now, severing every connection his brain made. I would destroy him as eagerly as he’d chosen to destroy my family, and there would be no remorse for what I’d done afterward.
I followed every step he made, fed my loathing and promise his way, and now while he stood by my chair, looking down on me like the victor over the defeated, I stared up, unleashing the force of my hatred. It was just a gaze. That was all I had. One day, Carter, one day. I promise you, I will make you pay. This was how Archon knew my name. This was how he knew so much about me.
He swooped down and took my hand too fast for me to react. My attempt to rip my wrist from his grasp was met with pain. Carter turned my wrist over, ran his eyes over the destroyed tattoo. Again, I renewed my attempt to be free of his hold; again, he resisted, squeezing my wrist, fingers indenting deep into my skin.
“There was once a time when your freedom made you interesting. Now, your enslavement makes you valuable,” he said then threw my arm back down to me.
“There will come a time when you wish you never met me.” A hollow threat. It sounded pathetic coming from the girl with the tattoo binding her factional nature, making her a prisoner to the whims of people like him.
To prove the point, Carter laughed. Malicious and cold, it crept underneath my clothes, right into my heart, turning it to ice. “It seems my world has done great things to your character,” he said as he strode around toward Archon. Archon responded to whatever private signal Carter made by vacating his chair for the other man. “I like this much imp
roved personality.” He seated himself. I was distracted from Carter’s speech long enough to watch the chair reconfigure itself to conform to the new weight and breadth of Carter’s body, snuggling him in. “If you prove yourself worthy during the trials, you shall herald in a new direction in our research.”
Settled back, fingers steepled in front of him, he peered across the desk at me. Archon hovered to the side, keeping himself out of the conversation but still very much a part of the atmosphere, which was suffocating in its tension. My stomach ached with how many knots now twisted in it. My muscles ached too, because they bunched and coiled, wanting to leap me out of this chair, explode me into action. For months, I’d been trained to fight. For just as long, I’d done exactly that, in the depths of a game that gave you two options, life or death. Sitting opposite Carter, it felt as though I’d been born to fight. I could remember the ease at which I fought in Dominus the last time I’d been inside. My body remembered the moves as though I was doing them right now. My mind played without instruction, running on an instinct I only just developed. Destruction too had been a part of my fabric, working ahead of me, independently but still as one.
The memory crushed me. A heavy weight rolled over, sinking me down into the chair. Destruction was lost.
But not my hatred, not my motivation to win my freedom, to defeat Carter. I’d do it. Some way, I’d do it.
“Before we proceed, I am curious to know one thing. How did you do it? How did you win over my best?”
He was referring to Jax. I stayed mute.
“I must say, I was convinced he would let you die. I’ve never seen so much rage caught within one person.”
Carter only knew one side of humanity. Maybe I shouldn’t classify these people under the umbrella of humanity, but they thrived on the same emotions as us, and those emotions were always dualistic. Carter knew hatred and revenge, but he didn’t understand compassion and love. He would see them as weak emotions, but it was because of these weak emotions Jax had the strength to save me. It was because of them he was defying Carter and the senate to save Alithia and Azrael. It was because of those emotions I would not give in, for Mum and Ajay, for Jax and the others, for Nada and Azrael.
“I would very much like to know where he is.”
I pressed my lips into a firm line. Seeing my resistance, Carter glanced at Archon. Summoned by his silent request, Archon came around the desk toward me. I followed him with my eyes, my throat turning into a straw with the diameter of a pin head. Archon sat on the desk in front of me, and I couldn’t help but stare into his crystal eyes. The lies were already forming on the many facets within. Set was coming out to play. Much like I’d done when I’d been forced to contain destruction, I fisted my hands, fingernails digging into my palms. It would likely have no impact against the power of a Set, but I would fight all the same.
“The question is made with good intentions. It is important that we find Jax and help him. From the start, he was suffering from his factional nature. It tormented him, as I am sure you well know. And his father's murder made it even harder for him to be able to control his factional nature. You know, Sable, that he is struggling, that he is in mental torment. All we wish to do is help him.”
“Liar.” I spat the word out then clenched my teeth. I could feel the heat in my cheeks from the effort it caused me to resist his lying lure.
But he’d been right. Jax was struggling with his factional nature. He loathed that part of himself. I couldn’t stop the image of his badly beaten body the night we hid in Alithia’s safe room. The agony in his words when he told me what he’d done, behind those words were pleas for my forgiveness and his need to forgive himself.
I roiled at the feel of Archon’s gentle touch on my upper arm. With the sudden touch, the image of Jax was gone. In front of me was Archon, only Archon. His eyes were no longer the harsh dissecting shards of crystal I had always thought they were. They were now a multifaceted mirror opening doorways to different shades of my personality. Within, I could see the girl I had been before any of this began, before I knew my father was a murderer, before he was taken from us, back when I was innocent and thought my father would always protect me. There was another mirror that was the lonely, desolate girl who lost the man she loved the most, trusted in all ways. And yet another mirror showed the girl forced into Dominus, who now knew too much, who had killed someone. In his eyes, I saw a girl become someone powerful, someone feared, someone ripped from who she’d been. This had been her destiny. This had been Jax’s destiny.
“Only you can save him, Sable.”
I felt them rolling up my throat. Felt the sting of the tears, because I knew the words would flow out. “We separated at his apartment.”
Archon caught the escaping tears with his finger. “Where did he go?”
This time, I shook my head violently, but it was no use. “He was heading to Aris HQ.”
“What did he hope to do there?”
“Find out about Carter.”
Archon did not break eye contact to look at Carter. He had me now, and doing so would weaken his hold. I tried to be the one to sever our link, but I was not strong enough.
“He never made it. No one saw him there. He must have gone elsewhere instead. You wouldn’t happen to know where that would be?”
I forced myself back in my seat. “You won’t win,” I hissed. I wouldn’t tell him.
“Sable.” His words were so gentle, sounding like a warm embrace. A finger under my chin brought my face to his. “Your struggles hurt you both. They upset me too. I want to help. Everything I do is for you. All you have to do is give me the right location.”
“The fringe.” I folded forward, feeling like a tsunami washed through, dragging me away.
“Was he alone?”
I shook my head. It served as both a denial to answer and the answer itself.
“Who was he with?”
“What did you do with the children?”
“Yes, we did want to ask you about those. But first, you must answer my question.”
“I won’t.”
Archon sighed. Carter launched to his feet. “Finish this,” he growled.
Archon dived forward, arms spearing to the armrest on either side of my chair. I gasped, pressing backward, but he caught my eyes with his.
“Tell me,” he demanded on a deep growl.
“Elva and two other recruits” came out between clenched teeth.
“And did he introduce you to anyone while you were in the fringe?”
“A woman.”
“Make her speak,” Carter growled from behind him. I couldn’t escape the bond of Archon’s gaze to look at Carter.
“Be specific,” Archon said.
“Alithia.”
Archon sat back, jerking his head over his shoulder to Carter.
“Have someone look into it,” Carter commanded.
With Archon diverted, I launched forward off the chair. I had no plan in mind, just to escape Archon’s toxic enchantment, stem the flow of my traitorous mouth. What evil had I brought down upon Alithia by revealing her name? She’d been born within Califax to respectable parents, which meant her name would be held within the senate’s database on its citizens. How easy would it be for them to track her down? How easy would it be for them to make the connections between Jax’s father, Jax, and Alithia?
Archon moved faster than I expected. He grasped my shoulders and threw me backward into the chair with such force the chair went over, me with it. The wind punched out of my chest as I hit the floor.
I rolled to the side, diving deep for destruction in a nanosecond before I remembered it was no longer a part of me. Footsteps sounded as Archon approached. His shoes came into view, stopping short of my face. Behind me, Carter had also come close, no doubt to pick over what was left of his catch. I heard a rustle of fabric, and then he spoke close behind me, which had to have meant he crouched down, as if wanting to make this intimate.
“Now, you will
ask her to tell us where the grafter is.”
Chapter 28
Martimon waited for me, grandfatherly smile welcoming me onto the trolley table. I knew his lies; he knew I knew, and he didn’t care. Like destruction would’ve become a part of me, Set was a part of him, the greater part it seemed. His smile, which had seemed kind and generous the day before, now looked smug, because he knew what he was capable of and what I was no longer capable of, thanks to his Set trickery yesterday. This was not the benevolent smile of a kindly helper—more the smile of a man who believed himself superior. And the fact that I was here meant Archon and Carter wanted me to start the trials, whatever that meant.
Neither had bothered to bring me here; instead, they signaled a sweeper—that was after Archon had me give up the location of the grafter. And it hadn’t been easy. I’d fought him all the way, discovering that if I hurt myself, it helped me stay focused, sealed my lips, enough to force Carter to kick the back of the chair and swear in frustration at my resistance. Archon, though—creepy in his intensity—found my resistance intriguing, if his look was any indication. From his quizzical brow raise to the slow twitch of a sly smile, he found me a worthy toy. It seemed few, if any, people were able to disobey a Set’s evil beguilement. It hadn’t lasted. Archon had won through. Biting my inner cheek until the metallic taste filled my mouth then switching to gouging small bloody grooves into the soft skin at the base of the collar at my neck helped me fight the initial gentle commands. His words had become more intense, ringing through my ears, ripping through my brain, an aggressive recital of what he wanted me to surrender. And I’d done it, caved to his voice. The horror I felt as I heard the name coming out of my mouth.