Sister of Shadows, page 3
Jacey’s grip tightened on the reader. She’d rarely been at odds with Vaughan before he’d been overwritten. But since he’d been brought back to life as an AI, they disagreed more often than not. She wanted him to overwrite Dr. Carlhagen and return to his own body, but he kept refusing. And now this issue. “For what that woman did to Vin, she deserves to die. A thousand times over.”
“You’re beginning to sound like Belle.”
Dajeet covered her mouth, but didn’t manage to stifle an uncharacteristic giggle.
Jacey glared at her. The giggle cut off, but a tear escaped Dajeet’s eye. She wisely turned away, but gauging from her trembling shoulders she was unable—or unwilling—to get her poor sense of humor under control.
“Belle?” Jacey said to the reader, sweetening her tone despite the bitter irritation tightening her throat. “May I please speak with you?”
“How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?” Belle responded as her face flickered into existence next to Vaughan’s. Jacey needed an extra second to realize the face really belonged to Belle. The pale skin and delicate features were the same, as was her nearly white hair. But, like Jacey, the AI Belle no longer wore her hair in the school’s regulation ponytail. Instead it hung loose on one side, the other tucked behind her ear. And, most shocking of all, she wore a glorious blue hibiscus bloom behind that ear. It gave a softness to the girl’s usually icy blue eyes. The habitually pinched mouth had relaxed, as well. And her lips held a sensual blush, as if she’d just been soundly kissed.
It was the mocking notes in Belle’s voice that reassured Jacey that she was speaking to her fellow Shark. Despite outward appearances, Jacey doubted Belle had changed all that much since being reborn an AI. Maybe a little. Maybe.
Vaughan had said Belle was learning to love herself, but it seemed an odd notion to Jacey. For their past seventeen years together, Belle hadn’t shown anything but self-centered disdain for anyone who wasn’t her.
Except that wasn’t entirely true.
Belle had sacrificed herself to save Jacey.
“Did you just want to see my pretty face,” Belle asked, “or did you want something else?”
Dajeet fled around the side of the bus, but her choking giggles carried to Jacey’s ears.
“I’ve explained the situation to Vaughan, but he is hung up on a moral dilemma. I thought you might be more reasonable. You see, we have a boat and we are loading it with supplies, and soon we will be out to sea. But we need a destination. We need to install Elizabeth as an AI so we can ask her where her private island is.”
“And what do you want me to do? I don’t know how to install that woman on this server.”
“I want you to beat Vaughan into submission.”
Belle’s laugh was so melodic that Jacey had to blink and make sure she was actually seeing it happen. Two rows of perfectly white teeth flashed and Belle’s eyes squinted in unguarded mirth. Even Vaughan seemed shocked by the display.
“I’ll talk to him,” Belle said. “But I can make no promises. He’s thick-headed.”
“On that, I agree whole-heartedly.”
“I’m right here,” Vaughan said. “You’re talking about me right in front of me. A pretty bad strategy.”
“We’ll see,” Jacey said. Once Belle set her mind to do something, very little could stop her.
A tug on Jacey’s shirt drew her attention. Livy stood behind her.
“I need to get back to work,” Jacey said to Vaughan and Belle. “I don’t have my reader, so once Elizabeth is installed, have someone come find me. I want to talk to her.”
“Don’t concern yourself with it,” Belle said. Her voice had returned to its customary iciness. “I’ll get the information we need.”
Jacey was about to argue, but Belle disappeared in a swirl of white particles.
“You’d better go, Vaughan,” Jacey said. “You don’t want Belle too far ahead of you, whatever she’s up to.”
“She’s already arguing with another couple instances of me.” He grimaced and dissolved in a flash of fire.
Jacey turned to Livy and gave her a hug. She pressed a kiss into the mop of blond curls. Mimicking Jacey, Livy had abandoned the ponytail as well. “What have you got for me?”
Petite for her age, the Dolphin might have been mistaken for a Scion a year or two younger. Except for those wide eyes, green as palm fronds. They held a look of mature wisdom, giving off a sense of confidence not unlike Sensei’s.
Livy was all seriousness as she handed a slip of paper to Jacey. “Since you lost your reader, I decided to practice my writing skills with a pen. I can’t believe people used to have to do that to just record information they wanted to remember. They must have walked around with their hands curled up like claws from writing all the time.”
Jacey scanned the paper without really reading. “No unusual behavior from our suspects?”
“Not really.” Livy turned to frown in the direction of the mango grove. “Unless you count hiding in the mango grove to avoid carrying stuff.”
“Let me guess. Apollo and Mickey?”
“You got it on the first try,” she said with mock surprise. Apollo was nine, a Dolphin like Livy. Mickey was a year older, which made him a Pelican. Both were way too young to be Mr. Justin.
“I’ll mention it to Sensei. He can take out some of his fury on them, give them a workout they won’t soon forget.”
Livy chuckled. “I want to be there and watch. All the boys need an extra hard workout, if you ask me.”
Jacey agreed. With the boys’ Nine leaders dead, injured, or busy interrogating Dr. Carlhagen, they didn’t have the guidance they needed. That would change once they were all aboard the boat. Once Vaughan was back.
But even something as straightforward as restoring Vaughan to his body had proven frustratingly difficult. Setting aside Vaughan’s stupid objections, there was still Greta to deal with. The AI in charge of transfers had flatly refused to overwrite Dr. Carlhagen and Senator Bentilius. Jacey thought she could leverage a bit more cooperation from the medical AI once she had control of the AI servers. Madam LaFontaine—the master persona of all the School’s AIs—understood self-preservation. Jacey didn’t relish making threats, but she would. With the time constraints they faced, expediency always won out.
“I’m hungry,” Livy said.
“Mother Tyeesha took charge of the kitchens. I’m sure there will be plenty.”
Livy started away, then stopped. “There was one thing Sang did that I found odd. I didn’t write it down because it wasn’t precisely suspicious.”
Sang was the prime suspect on Jacey’s list of people Mr. Justin might have overwritten. He was the oldest boy, and he didn’t have an alibi for the time period when the transfer had taken place. “What did he do?”
“When Humphrey and Tytus went to the medical ward a little while ago, he stared at the door for a long time.”
“Where was he?”
“Across the quad, leaning against one of the tree trunks. I thought he was just avoiding work like Apollo and Mickey, but that didn’t really make sense because he’s not like that. He stared at the medical ward a long time and then went back to Boys’ Hall.”
“You said he was leaning against a tree trunk. Would you say that he was hiding behind it?”
“No.” She screwed her face up as she reconsidered it. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
All the other suspects were younger. Obu, Horace, Kirk, and Pedro. She doubted Mr. Justin would have overwritten anyone younger than thirteen. Even fourteen seemed a stretch. No. She was certain it was Sang, Obu, or Kirk. Horace was out, since he was too sadistic. Unless Mr. Justin was a much better actor that she thought he was.
“Thank you, Livy. I’ll study these notes in a bit. I need to see to something before we take this bus load to the docks.”
Livy dashed off to the dining hall. Even once out of sight, Jacey felt connected to the child, as if an invisible cord ran from the Dolphin’s heart to Jacey’s. They’d gone through some terrible things together, but Livy had always been a rock of calm and unusual common sense.
Jacey wanted all the Scions to be safe, but above all, she wanted to protect Livy. And she would.
No matter what it took.
4
Abominable Boy
Dr. Carlhagen hated the silence in his holding room.
He could hear his own heartbeat, his own breath. It reminded him of his father’s study, which the old man had decreed a noise-free zone. Dr. Carlhagen had rarely spent time in that dark-paneled, leather-upholstered, antelope-head-decorated gloom. He’d hated how the grandfather clock tocked out the seconds in that stuffy space. An infinity of quietude interrupted by the occasional rub of fabric on leather as his father shifted in his armchair, or the tap of his fleshy finger on a reading tablet.
Dr. Carlhagen recalled an apt quote from Moby Dick his father had often recited. “There is no quality in this world that is not what it is merely by contrast. Nothing exists in itself.” That had been Melville’s nearly incomprehensible phraseology.
But it was true. Sound required silence, cold required warm, open required closed. Old, young. Life, death.
Freedom required imprisonment. Action required waiting.
Waiting. Dr. Carlhagen chafed under the chains of waiting. His life to this point had been action, action, action. Invent the mind transfer technology, build the school, sell the Scions, conduct the transfers. Do. Do. Do.
And why? Because Dr. Carlhagen knew that the world favored only half of each this-requires-that calculation. It valued love over hate, peace over war, amity over enmity. People didn’t want balance. And as a result they got more hate, war, and enmity.
So he had chosen to act to offset all the fools out there who had chosen to wait. And here he was, on the verge of claiming all he’d ever wanted. Power to change the world and make it perfect. Yes, people would suffer, people would die, people would be treated unjustly.
But only for a while. In the grand scheme, he was doing the world a favor.
A door in the hallway slammed shut, startling him.
Perhaps Mr. Justin had come to free him at last.
Dr. Carlhagen swung his legs down from the gurney and got to his feet. He hadn’t decided yet whether to throttle his old butler to death or to pat him on the back. Truth was, he could still use the man. Not that he could ever truly trust him again.
The light in the hall came on.
The decision came instantly, informed by a raw hatred for Mr. Justin more than any practical consideration. The andleprixen had calmed his shaking hands, but it didn’t prevent him from clenching his fists.
The door swung open. Disappointment flushed through Dr. Carlhagen’s mind, causing him to sag. It wasn’t Mr. Justin at all. It was Humphrey.
“Ah. It’s my failure of a Scion,” he said.
Humphrey stopped well out of arms’ reach. Another Scion, Tytus, stood in the hall, holding the door open.
“You sound disappointed, father. Were you expecting someone else?”
“I’m not your father,” Dr. Carlhagen snapped. Humphrey smirked as if he’d won a victory. Dr. Carlhagen forced himself to relax. The boy had wanted to provoke him.
“I know, I know,” Humphrey said. “I’m just your pathetic clone. If it’s any consolation, I’m as disappointed by our relationship as you are. More, probably.”
Dr. Carlhagen returned to the gurney and sat on the edge. “I’d invite you to sit down, but my accommodations are a bit spartan. Perhaps we could go up to the hacienda and continue this irritating conversation.”
“I’d be delighted, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Humphrey stepped forward, hands clasped behind him in a gesture Dr. Carlhagen recognized as his own. The boy’s haughty expression was not his, though. Dr. Carlhagen had always been humble and polite.
“I have a few questions for you,” Humphrey said.
“I will not answer.”
“What’s in the locked room in the wine cellar?”
Dr. Carlhagen snickered and leaned back on his elbows, legs dangling off the side of the gurney, making a show of not answering.
“What’s the code to unlock the door?”
“Why should I answer these questions? You offer nothing in return.”
Humphrey dug into the pocket of his white trousers and pulled forth a white plastic bottle. He shook it, letting the pills rattle. Andleprixen.
Against his will, Dr. Carlhagen sat up straight. “The whole bottle.”
Humphrey popped the cap and dumped out a tablet. He licked his fingertip, dabbed up a pill, and held it so Dr. Carlhagen could see it. “One pill.”
Dr. Carlhagen folded his arms across his chest, hoping it would signal intransigence. In truth, he was trying to keep from reaching out and taking the one measly pill. “Five pills.”
If he hadn’t had the pill Mr. Justin had given him, he would have already eaten the one Humphrey proffered. But he knew in a couple hours the need would return. If he could get a few tablets now, he’d have enough to carry him through the escape.
Humphrey’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Give me the code for the door, and I’ll give you two.”
“Five.”
Humphrey turned for the door. Tytus stepped aside to let him through.
“Wait,” Dr. Carlhagen called. “I’ll take the two.”
Smiling like a Dolphin who’d gotten an extra serving of ice cream, Humphrey bounced back into the room.
Dr. Carlhagen held out his hand. “Give them to me.”
The boy didn’t move. “The code first.”
“Very well. 3247-5181.”
“Put that in your reader, Tytus. I want to make sure we have it recorded.”
“My pills.” Dr. Carlhagen made a hand-them-over motion with his fingers.
“Once I verify the code, you’ll get your two pills.”
“Damn you!” Dr. Carlhagen cried.
Humphrey leaned back in mock surprise. “Oh. You wanted the pills immediately? I suppose we can negotiate that.”
Clamping his jaw shut, Dr. Carlhagen tried to stare holes in Humphrey’s face.
Tricked! The boy played me like a piano.
Keeping his voice even was a Herculean task, but he managed it. “What else would you like to know?”
Looking into Humphrey’s cornflower blue eyes was like looking into a magic mirror that showed him his youthful self. And though it pained Dr. Carlhagen to admit it, he discovered in Humphrey’s stare a part of himself he’d retained all these years—love of defeating one’s enemy.
Humphrey scraped the pill off his fingertip and into the bottle. He swirled the container so Dr. Carlhagen could hear all the lovely little pills inside. “Let’s see. What else would I like to know?” His expression brightened. “I’ve got it! Tell me where the new Scion School is.”
The shock of the question broke through Dr. Carlhagen’s hard-won demeanor of calm. His lips parted and a question tumbled out. “Who told you about that?”
Tytus cleared his throat. “Do we really have time for this? I say we leave him here. Jacey says it’s time to leave for—” The boy’s eyes cut to Dr. Carlhagen. Clearly he didn’t want Dr. Carlhagen to hear whatever he’d planned to say.
Humphrey shook the bottled again. “Tell you what, dear Progenitor of mine, think about my question while I’m gone. If your answer is satisfactory, I’ll give you this whole bottle of pills.”
He didn’t wait for Dr. Carlhagen to respond before leaving. The door swung shut and the lock snicked into place.
Abominable boy! Hateful villainous cretin!
Dr. Carlhagen leapt from the gurney and slammed into the door. “Come back here! I’ll beat you into sludge, you craven lout!”
The door across the hall swung closed as Humphrey and Tytus went into Senator Bentilius’s room. Dr. Carlhagen continued to scream and beat at the door. The rage cleared as pain broke through. His hand ached from the blows he’d rained upon the steel door. Breath rasping in his lungs, Dr. Carlhagen stumbled to the gurney and threw himself upon it.
Pleasure requires pain.
Vengeance requires insult.
“Where is that cowardly Mr. Justin?” he rasped. “What is taking him so long?”
Oh, how Dr. Carlhagen was going to relish his return to St. Vitus. He would crush this childish insurrection. Some Progenitors would lose their Scions, of that he was sure.
As for Humphrey . . . Dr. Carlhagen had thought he might sell the boy to some aging customer who couldn’t wait for a Scion to mature. No longer. That boy would suffer. And suffer. And suffer. And only once Dr. Carlhagen had tired of hearing the boy beg for mercy would he be allowed to die.
5
What’s Georgia?
The senator’s room was the same as Dr. Carlhagen’s. Gurney along one wall; cabinets along the other, holding bandages, syringes, antiseptic wipes, and latex gloves. But unlike Dr. Carlhagen’s room, which smelled of stale sweat, the senator’s held a sweet odor.
Humphrey recognized it. “Who gave you your perfume, Maxine?”
It took concentration to use the senator’s first name. Not because he was unused to it. He’d used it plenty during the very uncomfortable dinner he’d hosted for the senator in the hacienda.
The reason using the name Maxine was so difficult now was because the girl lounging on her gurney like a bored cat was Belle.
Or had been Belle, before the senator had overwritten her.
The senator’s possession of Belle’s body had made a few noticeable changes. Most obvious was that she wore Belle’s straight white hair down, rather than in the school-regulation ponytail. It flowed close to her cheeks and across her black uniform top like a frozen waterfall. Belle’s eyes, always blue and icy, had thawed. Somehow, the senator’s natural expression broke through, heating Belle’s gaze with a bottomless and shameless lust.
At least that heat wasn’t directed at Humphrey anymore. He’d been able to fend off her eighty-year-old hands in the wine cellar, but now that she was in Belle . . .
