It took Henry a few seconds to turn, and when he did, I saw all the little clues I should have noticed earlier. The same gray-colored eyes, the arcing eyebrows, the high cheekbones. All he lacked was Lincoln’s over-the-top flamboyance. “If I am?”
“He’s dead,” I blurted out. Why those particular words escaped my mouth, I didn’t know. “He’s dead, Henry,” I said again, gentler this time. For a moment, the man sat there, stunned, as I wondered if I should hug him or something. I opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “I’m really sorry.”
“Certainly not the news I was expecting,” Henry managed weakly, his voice low. “Certainly not after all this time.” His face cleared as we looked at each other. “Ah. Lincoln sent you to New York because he figured out what was going on here. He would have directed you to Dawson, who then sent you to rescue me.”
“That’s pretty much it.” I caught him up by replaying the last time I’d seen Lincoln alive, along with a shortest-ever-version explanation of the disc and what it contained. When I mentioned Bennett, Henry’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair line.
“Ah, the detective the doctor mentioned. Then we must make haste. It appears we are on a tighter deadline than I first thought.”
A tap of the keyboard put the com system on speakerphone, the dial tone followed by a melodic operator’s voice asking, “How may I help you?” Her request echoed through the lab, strangely cheery amongst all the death. My gaze strayed over to the doctor, beginning to show definite signs of rigor mortis.
“What are you doing, Henry?” I hissed.
“Just leaving Gabriel a message that we’re ready for stage two,” he murmured. “You do want immediate extraction, correct? I assume that’s the plan. He’ll hack in and change your biometric records, so you’ll be released?”
“Well… uh, yes.” I told him, feeling slightly dumb.
“Then let me get to it,” he said calmly. “You don’t want to be in here a moment longer than necessary, do you?”
I shook my head as he leaned closer to the little com unit. “It’s me,” he said, perfectly copying Dr. Death’s cold, inhumane tone. “I need a private line for an outside call.”
Henry’s ability to mimic voices was uncanny. If I closed my eyes, I would have sworn Dr. Death had come back to life. Obviously, the operator bought his act as well.
“Yes, I suppose I can wait,” he hummed and tapped his long fingers on the edge of the panel until there was an audible click at the other end. He whispered, “Get us out of here, Gabriel.” One tap and the line disconnected, leaving the room eerily silent.
When the screens went blank, Henry pushed away from the panel. “I deeply regret Lincoln was caught up in this. We kept Lincoln out of our affairs because it was in our best interest not to draw attention to ourselves. One thing about Lincoln, he draws a lot of attention.”
I couldn’t keep the smile from my face. “That, he did.”
“But he was a good man.”
“That, he was,” I murmured, suddenly tempted to cry. I’d never really mourned him, not really, and my eyes grew hot before I brushed the tears away. “We really should get out of here.”
“Yes, we definitely should,” Henry agreed, heading for the door. “We’ll use the side entrance used for deliveries. It leads to an alley that runs between the barracks. Should keep us out of sight of the guards until we reach the main yard.”
Just like he said, we emerged in the narrow corridor between the backs of two long barracks, the space barely wide enough for our shoulders. I admit, I was lost in thought as we crossed the yard, not even keeping the snipers in my sights. Somehow, Lincoln finally seemed dead. Maybe I hadn’t had time to deal with his murder, or maybe I’d been in denial, but the truth finally sank in as I followed Henry, his shoulders thrown back like a king, striding straight across the main yard toward a smaller, separate building I’d not noticed before.
“Welcome to my home,” he said, pushing through the door, then closing it behind me as I surveyed the room. The floor was covered in Turkish carpets, the bed was king-sized with luxurious covers, and there were a pair of leather lounge chairs set in front of a blackened, but empty fireplace. I didn’t miss the tall pile of books on the table, nor the fact he had this space all to himself.
“Special treatment for a prisoner,” I observed.
“Special allowances, given what I bring to the table,” he countered, opening up a huge, mirrored wardrobe that was stuffed full, reminding me somewhat of Dawson’s closet.
“Must be pretty special,” I replied, suddenly in no mood for word games. It occurred to me that I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this. I should have walked away.
But no. I’d been sucked in by Gabriel’s big blue eyes.
Of course, his threats worked pretty well too.
“I trade secrets with the guards, just enough to warrant my value to them as an informant. In return, I get these quarters, privacy, and the ability to smuggle in supplies for some of the prison’s more influential guests.” He noted my side eye with a grin. “Cigarettes, personal notes from home, medications, and alcohol. Daws sets me up, and as long as the supplies keep flowing in, intel keeps flowing out.”
Henry pulled out a hanger draped in a black, shiny garment bag with a gold zipper. He did a shooing wave with his free hand. “Mind turning around?”
I complied, wandering over the pile of books, ignoring the rustling of clothes behind me as Henry changed. He had all the pre-Surge classics, something else he had in common with Lincoln, and my fingers skimmed over the worn cover of The Great Gatsby.
“All right, you can turn around. Let’s see if I pass muster.”
Even his voice was deeper, and I had to blink for a second to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Henry was gone, replaced by a ridiculously tall blade of a man with a droopy, sallow face, brown eyes, brown hair, and wire-rim glasses perched on the end of his average nose.
Except for his height, which was ridiculous, nothing stood out about Henry. As a matter of fact, I’d bet everyone who saw him would only remember his height. Not even who was with him. A tiny kernel of hope ignited inside me. This just might work.
“Why the suit?” I asked curiously. “When you transformed before into alley-guy, the clothes just kind of went with you, didn’t they?”
“I had this suit specially made for this particular disguise, and it’s my favorite,” he explained, smoothing down the lapels, which seemed a bit wide for current fashion. “I’m not leaving it in this hideous place.”
“Okay, Beau Brummel,” I teased. “Whatever floats your boat. Let’s get this over with.”
With one eye on the gate to the main building, and the other on the snipers in the towers, we crossed the wide-open yard again. Eddie Weston—the Oceanus snitch—waved frantically before beelining straight for me, kicking up puffs of dust.
“You’re still gonna put in a good word for me with Lincoln, aren’t you?” he begged, trotting along beside me, apparently not noticing the tall stranger right next to me. “It’d do me some good, if he’d vouch for me. Eddie Weston, remember?”
“Yeah, Eddie, sure I will,” I told him, walking faster. He only sped up.
“Good. That’s real good.” He was nodding fast and twitching as he spoke, like all good snitches did when they were nervously trying to cut a deal. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” I said, jogging to keep up with Henry. “See you later, Eddie.” The guards shifted slightly, their rifles tracking our progress.
By now, my bright yellow jumpsuit had seen better days, but was still a shining beacon. Paired with not-Henry in his ancient suit and unnatural height, I failed to see how we’d escape unnoticed.
“How is this helping us?” I asked out of the corner of my mouth.
Henry took one look at me and his face softened. “It’s giving the DNA scanners the perfect opportunity to sweep you and feed your biometrics into the algorithm they use to classify prisoners. One or two l
ong, thorough scans will give Gabriel plenty of data to manipulate and change into good, old-fashioned human DNA.”
“Oh.”
“It will take him a few moments to compile enough data to create a believable duplicate.” His gaze went to the snipers, their long barrels tracking our progress, and he slowed the pace.
“You need to keep calm, Andy. If the DNA sweep shows increased anxiety and heart rate, it will be cause for the guards to take a closer look.” I made an effort to self soothe by diverting my attention elsewhere.
“Can anyone learn to shape-shift, or were you and Dawson born with it?” I asked as we approached the main complex. Anomalies fascinated me and were something Lincoln had trained me to look out for. They indicated the need for further exploration, which is what I was doing.
Plus, I was madly curious about how the whole clothes thing worked.
“It’s a bit of both. The higher magical designations correlate with mastering new magical abilities. The higher your number, the easier it is,” explained Henry, his voice turning deeper as we approached the guards. “Though there are exceptions. My brother never mastered the skill, though he tried.”
“You’re kidding me. There’s something Lincoln couldn’t do?” I joked, trying to think of anything the man couldn’t do. “Could you teach me to shape-shift?”
Henry paused, pretending to check his pockets. “I believe I could, but Daws is the real master. If you want to learn, have her teach you.”
“I don’t know about that,” I deflected, shuddering at the thought of me and Dawson locked in a room together. “We’d probably end up killing each other.”
23
The main complex was barely a stone’s throw away, but between us and freedom stood a maze of razor wire and cattle chutes designed to make escape impossible.
This area had its very own sniper tower, probably staffed with the best marksmen the prison had, and from where I stood, certainly the biggest guns. One thing about magic, it relied on your reaction time. Unless you could melt the bullet midair or blow it off-course, lead beat magic every time, no exceptions.
“Now comes the hard part,” Henry explained, looking at me with some regret. “I will go in and negotiate your release. With luck, Gabriel will be uploading your new profile, but this is bound to be a slow process.”
“What am I supposed to do in the mean time?”
“Keep your cool,” he murmured, fiddling with something in his pocket as the hawk-eyed guards watched. The rear of the main building was flanked by blinking surveillance cameras and a designated laser bank that bathed the whole area in a red glow, ready to incinerate anyone who approached. “Go talk to your friend… Eddie… a guard will come out and fetch you when it’s time.”
“You’d better make this work,” I said, running through all the ways this part of the plan could go south. I thought of my first night here and Max, the rapist guard. No, I didn’t have any desire to repeat that experience.
“Give my boy time to wipe the files and upload the new data.” Casually, Henry tapped on the screen of his handheld as the guards approached, drawing their weapons. “Now scram while I get you out of here.” Henry threw them a toothy smile as I stepped away.
“I’m James Tiberius Kirk, her lawyer, and I’m here to stop this charade of chronic malfeasance and misidentification by law enforcement.”
“What?” One of the guards asked while Henry shooed me away.
“Let us head into the complex to discuss particulars. I assume you have a superior officer who can handle the release?” They looked blankly at each other, escorting him to the doors. Just before he disappeared, Henry turned and called.
“Why don’t you take another slow walk across the yard, my dear. I will have you released from this horrible place straightaway.”
My knees were shaky while I made a tight circuit of the yard, trying not to draw any attention to myself, skirt the groups of scary-looking tattooed men who looked at me like a diabetic eyed a surgery treat, and avoiding Eddie, who frantically waved to me like we knew each other or something.
By the time I passed the tattooed bunch again, they’d drifted closer, blocking my progress completely. I tried changing my trajectory, but they recalculated until they formed a wall, and there was no way to avoid them without causing a scene.
“Hey there, little girl.”
“Hey there, yourself.”
These asshats were not going to screw this up for me. No way.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Just like the rest of you, I’m stuck inside this hellhole.”
“Haven’t seen you around before,” the one with the neck tattoos observed. “Nice bright uniform tells me you’re new meat.” He covertly opened his hand, and a flame of orange appeared. My guess was he was about a level four.
“Neat trick,” I told him, thinking Gabriel was taking way too long. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’ll keep to the other side, if that’s what you want.”
“You mean over there by Steady Eddie?” One of them snorted. “He sure seems happy to see you.”
Indeed, Eddie was peering over with huge eyes, looking like an anime weasel.
“Eddie? Don’t know him. Probably has me mixed up with someone else.” By now they had me surrounded, and my magic was crawling up and down my spine, like it does when it’s threatened. “You don’t want to do this,” I warned in a low voice, knowing it was probably futile, but maybe they could be convinced. One of them looked over my shoulder and took a step back, right before I sensed someone approaching.
“Step away from the fresh meat, boys.” Max had a surly look on his face, the kind that said I wouldn’t get so lucky this time. “You know the rules. Guards first, prisoners get sloppy seconds.”
My fire turned into a roar while I desperately tried to lock it down.
I don’t know why, but knowing what was going through Max’s head felt more threatening than the sniper’s guns. Maybe because I’d much prefer having a bullet inside of me than this asshole’s dick.
While the sea of tattooed flesh parted in front of Max, I kept a close eye on his baton. If he jolted me… well, there’d be no saving me this time. He didn’t appear quite as intimidating out here in the open. His biggest strength was his weapon, though I doubted he’d try anything in plain sight of the other guards.
“You’re a devious little thing, aren’t you?” he muttered as he shoved me forward. “Let’s see you get away this time.” He shoved me again, and I stumbled on the uneven ground.
Max wasn’t just a rapist, he was a mean rapist.
I knew what would happen next. He’d direct me somewhere with no cameras, and the second we were out of sight, he’d hit me with a million volts of electricity, and I’d probably never be seen again.
That was his plan. Mine was much, much better.
“Keep walking, bitch.”
I did as I was told, heading straight for the tight, dark passage between two buildings. I knew he’d hit me quick, not wanting to risk me screaming or escaping. I also knew he’d have to let me go in first, which he thought offered a tactical advantage.
“By the way, why do weak men resort to calling women bitches?” I wondered aloud. “It’s not really an insult, you know. It’s just an attempt to make me feel inferior. Which it doesn’t.” I kept walking.
“Did you know the word bitch was associated with Artemis?” I asked, course-correcting slightly to the right, hoping he didn’t notice. “No? I didn’t think so. You don’t seem like much of a reader.”
“You just wait, bitch, I’m going to shut you up for good.”
“Many have tried. Most of them better men than you,” I quipped, as he rammed the baton into the middle of my back to get me to step it up.
“Anyway,” I continued, tensing my legs as I stepped into the shadows. “Artemis was a goddess. Since you’re stupid and you don’t read Greek, or anything at all, I’ll tell you what she was the goddess of.”
&nbs
p; I heard the crackle of electricity as he fired up the baton, then dodged so fast my right shoulder crashed into the wall while I evaded the weapon as he drove it forward—right into the thin air where I’d once stood, just seconds before.
“Artemis was the goddess of the hunt.” Facing him, my lips parted in a feral smile. “Do you know what she did to men who tried to rape her?” Again, Max surged forward with the baton, the end missing my face by an inch, but his elbow hitting me hard enough to see stars. “She killed them. On a mountain.”
This time when Max came at me, I caught the handle of the baton with both hands and used the leverage to switch places with him in the narrow space. Now it was him trapped in the narrow corridor, and me who barred his way to freedom.
“I don’t have a mountain, Max. But I do have this.” Fire erupted from my fingers, the bright glow reflected in Max’s eyes. I prayed no one noticed the flash of light as Max opened his mouth. To scream, to beg, to call for help.
It didn’t matter.
I unleashed my magic, and in a few seconds, he was nothing but ash on the ground.
I didn’t know what level Elemental I was, but I’d never seen anyone call up fire as hot as mine. My power—my true magic, the one I never allowed anyone to see—was white-hot plasma, capable of incinerating anything, even bone, in seconds.
I stepped back into the yard, leaving Max there to be blown away by the wind, and the other guards talking about his disappearance for months. I carefully locked down my magic, one level at a time, until I’d read like a Norm. I’d been inside Devilton for two days, and I’d killed two men.
The prison was probably lucky I was getting out of here today.
24
The tattooed bunch raised their heads curiously when I emerged alone. I steered clear of them, not wanting to make incinerating people left and right a regular thing.
Instead, I meandered back toward the main building, praying Gabriel’s upload was finished, and Devilton’s little algorithms were going crazy, detecting poor Jessica Edwards, the falsely imprisoned Norm. I knew I’d left a stain of used magic back there when I’d killed Max. It would be gone in a day, but until then, I just had to hope I was far away by the time they discovered it.
Betrayed by Blood: The Shelton Family Legacy : 1 Page 16