Sister of Shadows, page 12
Kirk seemed struck numb by the news of Constantine’s death. When he learned that Horace had started it, he buried his face in his hands and wept. Dajeet moved next to him, rubbed his back, and murmured tearful comforts to him.
From the way Sensei’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, Humphrey was afraid the man was going to rip it right out and chew it in half. “Horace must be punished. Severely.”
“He still has the gun.”
“I’ll take care of that.” The look in Sensei’s eyes brought a burst of sympathy for Horace. But it only lasted a moment.
Humphrey finished the story. “Jacey decided to go after Dr. Carlhagen. She had Captain Wilcox take her to see a Progenitor who lives nearby, a woman named Elizabeth.”
Sensei’s head snapped around. “You’re kidding. Elizabeth is one of them. She’s never going to help Jacey. She’s not going to help any of you Scions.”
“Jacey considered that. She’s going to tell Elizabeth that her Progenitor came to transfer early. The way Senator Bentilius did.”
Sensei brought the bus to a stop and turned in his seat. “That won’t work.” He was half-grimacing, half-laughing, though humorlessly. Humphrey had never seen the martial arts master’s face so gaunt, so haunted.
“What do you mean?” Humphrey asked, suddenly defensive on Jacey’s behalf. “It’s a sensible cover story. Elizabeth has no reason to doubt it.”
“You don’t understand. Jacey has one of the most recognizable faces on earth.”
It was Humphrey’s turn to laugh. “This isn’t a time for a joke. How can anybody know who Jacey is? We’ve never been off the island.”
“I’m talking about her Progenitor, Jacqueline Buchanan,” Sensei said, pausing and pressing a thick palm to his face. “She was the most famous actress who ever lived. Somebody did a poll of famous faces about ten years ago. Jackie B was the most recognized by a nine point margin over Marilyn Monroe.”
“Who is Marilyn Monroe?” Obu asked. Sensei didn’t answer.
Humphrey sank into one of the vinyl seats. The other Scions stared at each other, each falling into the same shocked reverie.
Sensei just laughed, but there was only bitterness in it. “Jacey doesn’t know what she’s getting into. It doesn’t matter if Elizabeth helps her or not. Even if she gets off that island and into North America, there’s absolutely nowhere she can go anonymously. She’ll be hounded by paparazzi.”
Humphrey stared out the window but didn’t see the hacienda or the thick foliage or Bird of Paradise blooms. He only saw Jacey in her black dress, furious at him for arguing with her.
“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Wanda said softly. “Jacey had to go after Livy. We all know that. And she will have to take care of herself. Let’s go get the holodesk and get out of here.”
Wanda’s soft and sensible words seemed to pull Sensei out of his odd mood and he lurched out of his seat. He called for Kirk and Obu, and together they headed into the hacienda.
Humphrey had no experience consoling anyone, but he felt he should say something to Kirk. “Con got some good blows in on Dr. Carlhagen.”
Kirk swiped his sleeve across his nose. “He did?”
“I wish you could have seen it. He knocked him onto the grass. The old man’s going to have some bad bruises.”
The Spider didn’t smile. In fact, his lips trembled. But he nodded, as if taking this as good news. His shoulders straightened and he lifted his chin. “I hope to leave some bruises on him myself. Someday.”
Humphrey let Kirk walk ahead of him, feeling defeated in his effort to comfort the boy.
He felt a pat on his arm. Wanda walked next to him, eyes glistening. “Well done.”
Behind him, Dajeet sniffled. A moment later she appeared on his other side and gave him an awkward hug. It ended the second it began. She didn’t look at him.
Their acts of support made his vision blur, and he forced himself not to blink and let the tears fall.
It took a lot of grunts, groans, sweat, and a fair amount of cursing from all involved, but they managed to move the heavy mahogany holodesk, trailing a bundle of wires behind them. In ten minutes they had it wedged into the back of the bus.
Humphrey’s thoughts were so much with Jacey and what she was walking into that he remembered very little of the process. By the time they got back to the quad the Scions were all lined up and ready to board the bus. Humphrey didn’t even get out.
“She can think on her feet,” he said aloud to himself. “If anyone can navigate this situation, it’s Jacey.” She was the best actor he knew, which admittedly wasn’t saying much.
“Damn Dr. Carlhagen,” he said. “Damn him to hell.”
Sensei heard this last bit and nodded. “Amen.” He stood and squeezed out of the bus, past the stream of younger Scions trying to board. He waved for Humphrey to follow.
“We need to get going,” Humphrey said.
“We need a boat captain, don’t we?”
Humphrey rolled his eyes. He wanted to slap his own face. He’d forgotten Orson.
“Coming.” As he trailed Sensei toward the medical ward, he wondered what else he was forgetting. And then he saw.
Leslie had commandeered a bunch of younger Scions. Together they were carrying bits of equipment from the medical ward. When Terrel and Conrad, two twelve-year-old Crabs, backed out carrying a huge white circle, he realized what it was.
The transfer machine. Jacey had told him not to forget and he had. Fortunately, Leslie hadn’t.
Mother Tyeesha tottered from Girls’ Hall, a trail of little ones behind her. Her two adult staffers carried infants, as did two of the eight-year-olds.
Miss Dayspring emerged from the medical ward, arms full of a white bundle. It looked like a bed sheet. It bulged with the various medical supplies she’d collected at Jacey’s insistence.
Horace pushed Sang ahead of him. Humphrey noted the gun was gone. The Snake’s face was full of grim fury. He took it out on Sang, mercilessly shoving and cursing the boy. Sang’s face was puffy and blackened from the beating he’d taken.
Less than five minutes later, Humphrey was back aboard a bus overstuffed with Scions and children. Orson and his two men were in the front seats, none looking too well. The air smelled of sweat. Faces were drawn, voices low. Older Scions snapped younger ones to silence.
Wanda met his gaze and nodded.
“Let’s go, Sensei. Let’s get off this damned island.”
25
French for Beautiful
As the helicopter began its slow descent, Jacey unbuckled her harness and shifted across the cabin to look out the hatch window. Captain Wilcox made no move to stop her.
The island below was a blob of green surrounded by an endless blue sea. Just like St. Vitus, hills rose in scrub-covered ridges along the middle of the island. To the west spread the canopy of a thick forest. Slashes of beige beaches hugged the shores here and there.
A compound of metal-roofed buildings huddled near one inlet. The structures looked like garages, except for the windows and doors. A trail of men in uniform ran along a coastal path. A square landing pad sat atop a hill, the top chopped off as if with a giant knife.
“That’s our base,” Wilcox said. “We’ll be neighbors.”
Jacey realized how odd Humphrey’s orders to Captain Wilcox must have been, requesting he take Jacey to “Elizabeth’s Island.” No wonder the man has been amused.
Nothing to be done about it now. And maybe it was good he was based so near. If things didn’t go well with Elizabeth, Jacey could get a ride back to St. Vitus. Or somewhere. Surely Captain Wilcox knew how to get in touch with Dr. Carlhagen.
She watched the island pass beneath her, amazed that a single person could own such an area of land. The coast grew rougher, the cliffs more jagged.
And there, set atop the cliffs surrounding a docile bay, stood Elizabeth’s home: a sprawling mansion of concrete, steel, and glass. The design reminded Jacey of the building blocks she’d played with at Mother Tyeesha’s a lifetime ago. The whole house was structured from huge square and rectangular pods interconnected in pleasing proportions.
The helicopter circled and approached a concrete pad set atop a barren rise overlooking the house. At the mansion, a tiny figure in white stood on a patio facing the ocean. Whether it was a man or woman, Jacey couldn’t tell. But the figure had an arm raised to shield their eyes from the sun.
Jacey noticed more people arranged around the pool, all topless—or nearly so—and lying on reclining chairs. The helicopter twisted away, but not before she’d counted at least seven other people.
And just like that, the flight was over. The skids touched down on the landing pad. Captain Wilcox thrust open the hatch door and hopped down. Jacey took his hand and jumped out after him.
“That’s the path to the house,” he said, pointing to Jacey’s right. “I hope she’s expecting you.” He didn’t wait for an answer before climbing back into the aircraft. No sooner had the hatch slammed shut than the blades spun back up, downdraft whipping against Jacey’s body and blowing her hair across her face and plastering the drapes of her dress to her body.
Ducking, she shuffled for the path, cursing her confining outfit.
The helicopter passed directly overhead, then charged west toward its home base.
Jacey made it twenty meters down the path, then stopped in her tracks. Standing in her way, dressed in loose-fitting pants and tunic of white, was a ghost from her past.
Dante.
He’d been Vaughan’s best friend and frequent co-conspirator. Not long ago, on Birthday, Dante had hidden a radio transmitter in his uniform when he’d gone into the medical ward right after graduation.
Jacey, Vaughan, and Humphrey had gone to the top of the bell tower, where they’d listened to Dante’s transmission. And that’s when everything had changed.
They’d heard the Scions meet adults that Dr. Carlhagen called Progenitors. From that point forward, Jacey’s life had been nothing but turmoil.
But this isn’t Dante, she reminded herself. This was the man who’d overwritten Dante’s mind. This was the enemy.
“Jesus Christ!” Dante-who-was-not-Dante said, smiling lazily. “If I’d known you were in the Scion program, I would’ve stuck around a few more days. Nice dress, by the way.”
“Um, thank you,” Jacey said, confused by the fact he recognized her. “I came to see Elizabeth.”
“She’s back at the house. I’ve been appointed as the greeting committee for her big to-do. So what the hell are you calling yourself these days, Jackie?”
“Jacey. And who the hell are you?” she asked, courteously returning the curse. Inside, a sense of foreboding curled around her heart like a python. He’d apparently known her Progenitor well enough to use the familiar form of Jacqueline’s name.
His smile widened and he pressed a hand to his flat belly as he laughed. “Don’t you recognize me, Jackie? But I don’t suppose you would remember a mere billionaire from Brazil who wrote checks to all your charities.”
Jacey’s blank look made him frown. He approached, one hand out. His smile was fake now. “I was Silvio. But call me Dante from now on. New identity, and all.”
Jacey took his hand, remembering a vid she’d seen that showed clasping of hands as a formal greeting. Silvio put his other hot hand over hers and drew her close. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. “Charmed.”
She pulled her hand free and took a step back. “Are you going to escort me to the house, or shall we stand here for the rest of the day?”
Chuckling, Silvio guided Jacey along a well-worn path among an explosion of hibiscus and frangipani. The flowers were too sweet, the air too hot.
She found the man’s insistence in helping her down the gently paved steps irritating. He was always bounding down ahead of her, then taking her hand, as if she might trip over her own feet. Then he’d place a hand firmly against the small of her back and gently steer her. The hand often curled around her waist and wandered down the side of her leg.
“I can handle walking quite easily without you pushing me around, Silvio.”
“It’s Dante,” he snapped irritably. But he made no move to distance himself from her. The hand-holding and back-steering continued as the path descended and twisted through a canyon-like passageway in the bedrock of the island. Once past the turns in the path, he leaned into her shoulder and put his face close to hers.
“So, my darling. Mind telling me how you pulled it off?”
Jacey glared at him. She’d learned her lesson about saying too much during her conversation with Captain Wilcox. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
His whole chest moved as he laughed. But the mirth faded quickly. Eyes narrowing, he considered her face as if reassessing a prior judgment. “Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re good at playing dumb. Acting is pure deceit, is it not?” He gave her a conspiratorial leer. “So, the whole boating accident thing. That was your cover story, eh?”
Acting?
Dr. Carlhagen had mentioned Jacqueline had been an actor.
Silvio thought Jacqueline had faked the boating accident to prepare the way for her Scion to come out into the world. Seizing on the idea, she turned her head away, pretending to mask a smile.
“Ah, my darling. No need to play coy with me.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close, which threw off her gait and made her stumble. He caught her and suddenly she was engulfed in his arms. “We Progenitors must help each other, no?”
She stiffened and pushed at his shoulders until he released her. “Help each other, yes. Manhandle, no.”
He burst into more laughter. “Accept my apologies, my lovely. It’s this new virile body of mine. A blessing and a curse.” Though nobody was around to overhear, he put a hand to his mouth and whispered to her. “Elizabeth and I have spent half our time in bed since transferring. And most definitely not sleeping!”
“Seems a waste of time, if you ask me. I want to get back out into the world as soon as possible.”
His humor vanished, and a look like fear darkened his eyes. “But my dear Jacqueline, is that wise?”
She nearly tripped again, but this time she had her hands out to push away his overly fond rescue attempt. “My name is Jacey.” She put as much indignation into it as Silvio had when she had used his Progenitor’s name. It did the trick.
“Oh. Of course. Jacey.” Silvio smacked his lips and made a sour face, as if her name tasted sour. “I named my Scion Dante. A joke, really. But I just love it. What better name for a man who’s made a life’s work plumbing the depths of depravity?” He hummed and chewed on her name again. “Jacey. Are you quite sure about that name? Jacey sounds a bit low-rent, if you know what I’m saying.”
She had no idea what he was saying, but she nodded noncommittally. “Do you have a better idea?”
He thought for a few moments, inhaling dramatically through flared nostrils as if drawing inspiration from the warm sea breezes. “You need something appropriate, something that fits.” He held up a finger. “I’ve got it! How about Belle? That’s French for ‘beautiful.‘”
Jacey choked and had to pat her chest with the palm of her hand as she coughed. Wiping a tear from one eye, she fixed him with a hard stare. “Um, no.”
He sighed and waved a hand, giving up on her. “Jacey it is, then.”
The path opened upon a span of flat rock that gave an unobstructed view of the mansion, which now stood a hundred meters uphill.
It was perched upon a massive slab of black rock that thrust into the sea like the prow of a gargantuan ship. Jacey imagined that in some distant epoch a great upheaval in the very crust of the earth had split a mountain, toppling this formation into the water.
The cliff fell fifty meters into a swirl of mist where waves crashed against the face of the island.
Nothing could have been more at odds with the natural magnificence of the location than the house. Whoever had designed it had chosen to stack box-shaped pods of glass, concrete, and rusted steel atop each other in a random-seeming configuration. When taken together, the pods formed an edifice of supreme artificiality.
Wind gusted across the exposed observation point, making Jacey rub her elbows despite the sun.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Silvio said.
Jacey shrugged and followed him to a path leading from the rock. It curled along a grassy slope and ended at a course of steps hewn from the bedrock. Jacey’s heart hammered as she followed Silvio into a shady, covered gallery bordering a courtyard leading to the entrance.
The open area was filled with fine white sand. Black boulders, placed just so, punctuated the expanse, which had been raked with flowing lines all around. The effect might have been calming if Jacey hadn’t been so nervous about meeting Elizabeth.
The walkway tunneled between two pods before opening again into sunlight at the edge of a crystal blue swimming pool twice the size of the one at Dr. Carlhagen’s hacienda.
To Jacey’s left a carpet-like lawn stretched toward the sea, ending at the rocky drop off. To her right towered the house of boxes, vast glass fronts reflecting the green and blue of the outside world. Jacey couldn’t see in, and had to shield her eyes against the brain-piercing light glancing from the pool and windows.
Silvio’s hand tugged at her. “Quickly now. This way.” He hustled her away from the pool and to a set of glass doors. With a soft hiss, they slid aside as Jacey approached, letting out a wash of cold air that smelled like the inside of a refrigerator.
“I’d like to speak with Elizabeth right away,” Jacey said, turning to watch the glass doors slide closed behind her. “I have urgent things to discuss with her.”
“Of course. Soonest possible moment. This way.”
Silvio led Jacey across white marble tiles. Their footsteps reverberated in a grand hall of ice. Or, at least, that’s how Jacey thought of it. Every surface was cloud white—from the marble floors, to the painted concrete walls, to the ceiling ten meters above. In the center of the space stood a cluster of sofas and chairs of creamy white leather. Nearby, a low glass-topped table rested on weirdly bent white plastic legs. In one wall, blue flames lurched behind glass, a decorative fireplace giving off no heat.
