Progenitor

by Cassandra Chandler

  Brock might be able to fool the machines, but his replicants were a different matter. He could feel DP at the edge of his mind, an irritating buzzing pushing against Brock’s shields. They had to be sensing Brock’s growing anger.

  On the screen, Dexter said, “We don’t have the resources to babysit you, and we have a patrol to finish. If you’re truly as docile as you want everyone here to believe, you’ll want us to make sure there aren’t any unknown dangerous dwellers running around near humans.”

  “Of course,” Meg said. “But I promise, I won’t hurt you. Or anyone.”

  “We know.” Dexter smirked, then turned and started walking down the hallway. The overhead lights and the lights in the adjoining cells shut off as he passed them.

  Meg ran toward the cell’s door and pressed her hands against the glass.

  “Please don’t leave me in here,” she shouted. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

  The elevator doors closed. Dexter never once looked back at her.

  The light from her cell reflected off the glass walls. She was isolated in a small cube floating in a sea of darkness.

  Minutes passed. She kept herself pressed to the door.

  “Brock?”

  Hearing her speak his name in that broken, tiny voice felt like a hammer to his chest. The machines started beeping again, and he didn’t give a damn.

  How long did she stay alone in that cell?

  It was a form of torture. Dexter knew that.

  And he had done it in Brock’s name.

  “Fast-forward.” Brock pushed the command out through gritted teeth.

  The monitor blurred a bit. Meg stayed against the door for a long time. Then she started pacing like a caged animal. Like an agitated animal.

  She reached for the walls a few times, but then drew her hands back, as if she was afraid to touch them. Finally, she stopped in the center of the room and dropped to the floor. She hugged her knees against her chest and pressed her face to them, rocking back and forth.

  Brock watched the time scroll as the screen stayed basically the same. For hours. With no outside stimulus, no way of knowing how much time was actually passing, it must have felt like so much longer to her.

  Finally, lights came on in the rest of the level. Tessa and Marcus bolted down the hallway, supernaturally fast. Tessa threw herself at the door, clawing at it with her metal hand. Crackling blue energy gathered around it, and she smashed through the glass.

  Holy shit.

  Brock didn’t know she could do that. He was pretty sure Vaughn had been surprised by that, too. The nanites he’d used to fuse her cybernetic arm to her body and integrate it with her physiology might be interacting with her dwellers in unanticipated ways.

  Yet another thing to worry about.

  All Brock could focus on at the moment was watching his sister and her mate run into the room and wrap their arms around Meg.

  Meg kept rocking. For a long time, she stayed on the floor, curled in a ball while Tessa and Marcus comforted her. Because of something Dexter had done. Something all of the replicants had allowed to happen by shoving Brock back into his body with enough force to knock him out.

  Making him helpless.

  As if creating them hasn’t left me helpless enough.

  Brock snapped.

  They had used their connection against him. But they were the satellite minds. He was the central force behind them all.

  He let his rage build, ignoring the warning alarms from the machine at his side. The tunnel of energy linking him to all of his replicants blanked out his own body’s senses, glowing bright blue this time.

  Brock didn’t just let it pull his mind toward the replicants upstairs—he pushed himself forward, willed himself to slam into Dexter full-force, knocking that shard of DP’s consciousness into Porter’s body.

  Brock didn’t stop there. He kept pushing, blasting his energy against DP and out along the conduits to all of his replicants’ minds.

  “You want to use our connection to control me?” he thought at them. “I am the fucking link that holds us together. I am the energy source that keeps you all alive.”

  Through Dexter’s eyes, he saw Porter jerk in his seat. His body started to shake violently.

  Marcus was first to his feet, rushing to Porter’s side. Vaughn glanced back and forth between Dexter and Porter, finally settling on staring at Dexter’s form. Brock was holding Dexter’s body steady, hands flat on the table to stabilize him.

  “What’s happening?” Meg said.

  “Some kind of seizure.” Marcus wrapped his arms around Porter’s head and shoulders, trying to hold him still.

  Blood dripped from Porter’s nose, eyes, and ears.

  Brock didn’t care.

  “Oh my God.” Meg stood, grabbing Tessa’s arm and pulling her up and away from the table.

  “No, no, no,” Tessa said. “It’s too early. We’re supposed to have two more days.”

  Vaughn lifted his arm and spoke into his watch. “Eli, what’s happening with Brock?”

  “I don’t understand.” Meg was glancing frantically back and forth between Dexter and Porter. She looked equally concerned. Dexter’s body must be hemorrhaging, too.

  Good.

  Meg took a step toward him and reached out, but drew back before touching him. Even after what Dexter had done to her, she still wanted to help.

  Brock’s rage surged along the connection.

  “We protect dwellers,” Brock thought. “We’re supposed to be building a better world for everyone, treating dwellers as well as we treat humans.”

  “Please…” Porter said. Out loud.

  The channels connecting them usually felt smooth when Brock sent or received energy from them. This time, it was like pushing through razor blades. No wonder they were resorting to their physical voice to try to reach him.

  Brock didn’t give a shit about the pain. He’d learned to deal with pain long ago.

  “Did you listen to Meg when she said ‘please’? Right before she called out my name? She thought she could trust me, just like I thought I could trust you.”

  He pushed harder.

  “Eli doesn’t know what’s happening,” Vaughn said. “But I’m getting reports from all our bases. The other pairs are having seizures, too.”

  “You tortured her,” Brock projected. “After she risked herself to help our family. After she suffered to ease Tessa’s madness.”

  “It’s too soon,” Tessa sobbed.

  “Stop.” Porter croaked out the word.

  “I will fucking stop when I’m ready.” Brock pushed on their minds harder, felt the pressure build in his own body, as if he was about to pop. “I tried to teach you how to be decent human beings. To help you understand compassion. We do not torture anyone or anything. The Blades have to be better than that.”

  “Brock…” Porter said.

  “That is not what you call me.” Brock slammed his fists on the table hard enough that the plates bounced. “That is not who I am.”

  Porter started choking, blood flooding from the corner of his mouth. Brock felt blood flowing down the back of his throat, warm liquid spilling from his nose and blurring his vision with red.

  “Say it,” Brock shouted.

  “Pro… Progenitor.” Porter stammered.

  Brock let go of the force he’d been applying to their minds. Marcus held on to Porter as he fell forward, gasping for breath.

  The connection between them all felt raw and flayed. Brock slammed down his mental barriers, cutting himself off from their thoughts and shielding his own.

  He wiped a hand over his face and looked at the blood on his palm. The room was spinning and his chest heaved as he fought for air.

  After swallowing a few times, he managed to calm his voice.

  “Don’t ever forget again,” he said.

  Chapter Six

  Meg held herself perfectly still, hoping that Brock would forget she was in the room. She wanted to disappear
.

  What she’d just witnessed… She didn’t understand it, but it terrified her.

  “Brock, are you okay?” Tessa took a few steps toward her brother, away from Meg.

  Brock was obviously not okay. His face and neck were covered with blood. Except, while Meg watched, the blood reabsorbed into his skin. The stains on his dark T-shirt started to glow with a soft blue light, then vanished.

  Her mind reeled.

  He’s not human. He’s a dweller, too.

  “Get him out of my sight.” Brock bit out each word. “Everyone out!”

  Vaughn was the first to move. He pulled Dexter’s arm over his shoulder, grunting as Dexter rose to his feet.

  “A little help here,” Vaughn said.

  Marcus gripped Tessa’s elbow and steered her toward Vaughn. Once close enough, Marcus looped Dexter’s other arm over his shoulder, and headed for the door. Meg started to follow, but Brock reached out and grabbed her wrist.

  “Not you,” he said.

  Tessa turned toward him, but Brock said, “It’s okay. They won’t dare hurt Meg again after that.”

  What was he talking about?

  Tessa looked to Meg—to Meg—and waited. She nodded to let Tessa know Meg was okay with being left alone with Brock, even though she was absolutely terrified.

  This was her mission. Stay close to Brock by any means necessary, even if he had a Jekyll and Hyde personality. The fact that he wanted Meg to stay was a good sign. She hoped.

  Tessa followed as Marcus and Vaughn half-dragged Dexter out of the room. Meg could hear them as they walked to the library, even though the carpet muffled their footfalls. She didn’t hear the secret bookshelf open that Vaughn had shown her earlier, but she did hear the elevator make a soft beep when it arrived.

  A few seconds afterwards, Brock let out a sigh. Could he hear the elevator leave, too?

  “Is Dexter going to be okay?” Meg asked.

  Brock let out a short laugh. “That wasn’t Dexter.”

  “I don’t understand. Everyone’s been calling him Dexter.”

  Brock let out a sigh, then drew her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. He rested his forehead against her shoulder. She could feel the heat he was radiating even through her jacket.

  “You’re burning up,” she said.

  “It’ll pass.”

  “We should take you to your dad. Eli’s a doctor, right?”

  “I’m already with my dad.”

  Meg didn’t know what to think anymore. Nothing made sense.

  “I’m really confused,” she said.

  He looked up at her and smiled. A real smile. Brock’s smile. She couldn’t believe how well she knew it already.

  “I can imagine,” he said.

  “If that wasn’t Dexter, who was it?”

  “Porter.”

  “Porter? Who is Porter?” More frustration crept into her tone than she anticipated.

  She held her breath, wondering how he’d react. After that display of…whatever it had been, she didn’t know what to expect from him or what he was capable of. She only knew that he was something she’d never encountered before.

  “He’s… This is going to be hard to explain,” Brock said. “Have you ever heard of a hydra?”

  Meg’s heart started to race. Roy had mentioned finding the true head of the hydra. But what did that mean?

  “I read about a hydra in a mythology book once,” she said. “I used to hang out in the public libraries a lot when I lived on the street.”

  Brock tightened his grip on her. “Whatever happens over the next few days, I want you to know one thing. You will always have a home with the Blades. Marcus and Tessa… You’re right, they need you. Not like you thought, though.”

  He winced, pinching his eyes shut. Lines of pain were etched around his eyes.

  Whatever he’d done, he’d done it to protect her. Now, he was paying for it.

  She ran her fingertips across his temple, then through his hair. He let out a shaky breath, and some of the tension she felt in him eased.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m good at surviving.”

  “Surviving isn’t thriving.”

  “Well, yeah.” She let out a little laugh before she could catch herself.

  He smiled up at her again. There was no anger or malice in his eyes. The cold aloofness she’d sensed from him ever since he’d exited the van had burned away.

  She pressed her hand to his forehead, relieved to find it cooler. He let out another of those soft breaths.

  So gorgeous…

  She ran her fingertips over his cheekbone, traced his strong jaw, even dared to brush her thumb across his lips. They were just as soft and warm as she remembered. He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand away, but not before pressing a kiss against her palm.

  “Meg, this is complicated.” His voice was a low rasp.

  “Just tell me.”

  “I’m not Brock. This body isn’t, anyway.”

  Not Brock? She struggled to find an explanation that made sense.

  “Are you some kind of ghost or something that possesses people?” she asked.

  He looked away and shook his head. “If only it were that easy. No, I’m… I’m a hydra.”

  “You’re a dragon?” She remembered the pictures that had gone along with the story. A huge dragon with tons of heads on long spindly necks.

  He laughed. Little crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes and mouth, completing his transformation into the warm man who had already somehow made his way into her heart.

  She wanted to kiss him again.

  “No, I’m not a dragon,” he said. “That would be really cool, though. The legends never get it quite right. It’s interesting how they interpreted the ‘two heads’.”

  “Right. Hercules would cut off one head, and two more would grow from the stump.”

  “Yeah, that’s not quite how it works.”

  Brock dropped his hand to her thigh. Warmth shot through her, pooling low in her belly and between her legs. She wasn’t sure who was the seducer anymore. Except, from him, the gesture felt natural. He didn’t have to try to seduce her. Everything about him drew her in.

  “Unless he applied fire to it,” Brock said.

  Definitely not seduction talk.

  “So, your weakness is fire?”

  She felt a surge of panic as she remembered that Roy was listening to them, seeing everything around her. If Brock told Meg his secrets, Roy would know them, too.

  Her pack needed to be healed. This was the only way. Meg had already reconnected with Tessa and Marcus. But for them to truly be whole, they had to have their vengeance on the one who had destroyed their pack in the first place. They had to kill Dexter.

  She hadn’t figured out why they had to go through Brock to do so. She didn’t even know who Dexter was anymore. She’d thought he was the twin sitting at the other end of the table. They had told her he was Dexter. Which meant, they had lied.

  If they’d lied about that, what else were they keeping from her?

  It can’t be as bad as what I’m keeping from them.

  “I don’t really have a weakness,” Brock said. “Except for time, I guess.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He sighed, staring at her lap. Not a lascivious stare. It was like he was looking through her. His hand rubbed small circles on her back, and he kept his grip on her thigh, holding her close.

  “My body is in the sublevels,” he said. “Probably being fussed over by my dad and the others, unless Porter has recovered enough to forbid Tessa from being that close to me.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “She keeps trying to kill me.”

  Meg tried to envision what he described. His real body was below them, but somehow his soul was in this one. What had happened to…whoever had been in this body originally, then?

  “Who’s body are you…”

  “Borrowing?” Brock said. “This is the body I
call Dexter.”

  Dexter. She was sitting in Dexter’s lap. Her arms were around Dexter’s shoulders. She’d lovingly traced the outline of his features.

  Meg felt like she might throw up.

  This “body” had destroyed her pack. The same hands that gently held her had killed the werewolves who had promised to be her family. Hands that still sent heat streaking through her.

  She shoved away from him, tumbling to the floor, but rolling up in a crouch.

  He tried to stand, but then swayed and sat back in his chair, hard. He was weakened. She’d never have a better chance to kill him. But what would happen to Brock?

  She shouldn’t be thinking of that. Shouldn’t be hesitating when the chance to heal her pack was right in front of her.

  Her fingertips started to tingle. That had never happened before. She glanced down to see the slightest hint of a curve to her nails.

  The collar started to hum.

  Roy was watching. But why was he getting ready to shock her? He knew that would block this opportunity.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you,” Brock said. “And neither will the others. What they did to you, throwing you in that cell…”

  Her skin crawled thinking about it. She’d lost all sense of time while waiting for someone to find her, wondering if anyone would ever come. When Marcus and Tessa arrived, she was so far into the safe place she’d built for herself in her mind, they’d said it took them half an hour just to get her to respond to them.

  “Who put me in the cell?” As if she needed to ask.

  “Dexter,” Brock said. “But he’s learned his lesson. He knows you’re off limits now.”

  “I feel so much better, hearing those words from his mouth.”

  “Meg, please.” Brock glanced at her collar, buzzing around her neck, then held out his hand to her. Held out Dexter’s hand to her.

  She recoiled. The collar crackled.

  The magic snapped into her, stinging her in bursts. She shook her head, fighting to ignore the pain. She couldn’t ignore the message.

  She was supposed to stay close to Brock. By any means necessary. Apparently, it didn’t matter if he was using someone else’s body. The only comfort she had was that he winced when she did as the collar stung her. At least Brock seemed to care about her, and that’s who he was inside.