Sister of Shadows, page 8
The thick foliage bordering the road blurred by, a wall of green. Wind whipped at the girls’ faces, making their hair swirl around them like Medusa’s snakes. Jacey wished—for the first time in several days—she had a rubber band to tie it back with.
The vehicle lurched over a pothole. The world tilted before Jacey’s eyes, then righted itself as the Jeep recovered its stability.
Summer drove with more abandon than Belle had when she and Jacey had been trying to elude the senator’s bodyguards. And that had been the most harrowing Jeep ride of Jacey’s life.
But Jacey didn’t care now. She wanted more speed.
Please don’t let it be the backup force, she thought. They were so close to having the Aphrodite ready. All they needed was for Sensei to bring back the bus and load everybody on.
They topped a hill and the island fell away to the south in a tumble of green and brown scrub. In the distance, the red roofs of the Scion School campus shone like hibiscus blossoms in the morning sun. There was no sign of the helicopter from this vantage. It must have landed in the quad.
Summer jammed the brakes at a sharp turn in the road, making the tires cough and shudder on the rutted gravel. She battled the steering wheel, turning, turning, as the Jeep made the curve, then revved the motor to send them charging down a straightaway.
Jacey held on, knowing that Summer’s smallest error in judgment would send them tumbling two hundred meters down the slope. With the Jeep’s top down, neither of them would find out how that fall ended.
As they lost altitude, the Scion School disappeared behind a low rise. Jacey dreaded what she’d find when they finally got there. Because she knew one thing for sure:
Outsiders always brought guns.
17
The Luckier the Man
Mr. Justin hustled out of the server room and into the wine cellar, Senator Bentilius’s suitcase rolling behind him, heavily laden with servers. Strictly speaking, he hadn’t needed Socrates’s old server. But since Vaughan and Belle were on board and knew far too much about what he was up to, he chose to bring the extra box.
Besides, who knew how such AIs might be useful to him in the future? Waste not, want not.
His distraction—the chopper—would only last for a while longer. He needed to put on some haste and get the suitcase stashed where it would eventually make its way onto the bus and to Aphrodite.
Three steps into the darkness of the wine cellar and an odd gleam to his left caught his attention. It was unlike the glassy roundness shining off of the wine bottles in their crisscrossed racks.
It was from the light of the server room reflecting off a flat surface.
He released the suitcase handle and crept toward the shiny object. His body was shorter than he was used to, but he was able to leap high enough to snatch it down.
A reader. And look, it was set to record video of anything moving in front of the door to the server room.
“I almost got caught,” he said under his breath. But almost will get you no cookies, as his father used to say. He shook off the chill of what might have been and grinned. The Scions were smart, but Mr. Justin was smarter.
Snatching up the suitcase, he made his way out of the hacienda. No time to lose.
He trundled down the path toward the quad, wondering whose reader he’d discovered. Jacey hadn’t had time to bother going down to the wine cellar. But Humphrey had been nosing around in the hacienda earlier with Tytus in tow. Yes. Humphrey had also been searching high and low for the AI servers.
Clever. Vaughan had surely been monitoring the video feed. And that meant Mr. Justin had narrowly escaped discovery. A lucky break, indeed.
As any self-respecting butler knew: the better the plan, the luckier the man.
A minute later, he scrambled to the bottom of the path from the hacienda. He shuddered every time the suitcase bounced on the path. The servers were hardy, but they weren’t designed to be jarred and jounced this way.
No one had spotted him so far, of that he was sure. They were all busy staring at the helicopter.
Even so, Mr. Justin breathed a sigh of relief as he came off the path and the bulk of the medical ward building hid him from everyone on the quad. He left the suitcase and crept to the corner, pressed his hand on the sun-warmed stucco, and peeked out.
Chopper blades still blurred above the aircraft, which filled the air with its roar. The Scions stood well back from it. He couldn’t make out their faces, but in their postures he saw nothing but distress. Old ones held onto younger ones and boys paced and threw furious glares at the helicopter.
Dr. Carlhagen and Senator Bentilius stood motionless before two armed men. It appeared they were just standing there having a staring contest.
What’s the old man doing?
Whatever it was, Senator Bentilius was none too happy about it. She swung out an arm and pointed toward one of the younger Scions. Dr. Carlhagen answered, firmly.
The Scions were watching them. Nobody had even spared a glance for the medical ward. Good.
Seizing upon the distraction, Mr. Justin retrieved the suitcase and slipped away from the quad. He crossed the path and skirted behind the bell tower. It was slow going once he stepped into the tangle of brush and grass. The suitcase wheels were not made for such terrain. He leaned into the effort, cursing to himself.
It didn’t surprised him that Dr. Carlhagen had decided to dawdle once set free. The man was ridiculously single-minded about doing things his way. A bit of luck, actually. As long as the Scions weren’t looking, Mr. Justin could easily get the suitcase into position. Chest heaving, he yanked the unwieldy baggage around a thicket of thornskipple and raced past Boys’ Hall.
18
Butterfly Wings
The senator’s pale face flushed bright red and her mouth twisted in a snarl. She stepped close to Dr. Carlhagen and tapped his chest with a finger. “I want to make one thing clear. I am not babysitting that child.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Dr. Carlhagen said. “Livy is perfectly self-sufficient.”
“Who’s her Progenitor?”
“A very important person. That’s all I can say.”
“They’re all important. Why her?”
Dr. Carlhagen hesitated. He couldn’t tell Senator Bentilius the whole truth—that he wanted Livy because she was leverage over Jacey. The pair of them shared an inexplicable connection, probably because both were inveterate rule breakers. On arrival, the Dolphin had refused to throw her stuffed toy in the burning barrel and Jacey had helped her hide it.
But telling Senator Bentilius about his need to control Jacey in particular would only produce more questions, more suspicion.
“She’s the ideal insurance policy,” he said. “Until this island is secure, I want leverage over the Scions. This particular Dolphin is very popular with all of them.”
Senator Bentilius paused for a moment longer then gave a curt nod to the guard, who then strode toward the young Scion. Dr. Carlhagen scurried after him. The fact that some Scions had killed Alice and brutalized the other guards put him on his toes. He straightened and painted a scowl on his face to warn off any Scion who was thinking of playing the hero. Which was probably all the boys.
While Vaughan had been the best fighter on campus, few of those skills had transferred to Dr. Carlhagen. Fortunately, the Scions didn’t know that.
Dr. Carlhagen held his hand out toward the Dolphin girl. “Come along, Livy.” The other Scions cried out. Some of the older boys started to creep toward the guard.
Livy looked at his hand and took a step back, chin lifting, green eyes hard. “I’m not going with you. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Two Centipedes, Pedro and Constantine, edged closer, their thirteen-year-old bodies in the loose but tense fighting stance Sensei had trained into them. Humphrey was shouting at them to stop, but they ignored him.
“This man will shoot!” Dr. Carlhagen warned the approaching boys. He cocked his head toward the guard. “I know you think you’re important, but I will order you killed if you interfere.”
The boys stopped, but they didn’t relax.
Livy took another step back. The guard lunged for her. She spun away, but he got a hand on her blond curls and yanked her roughly back. Her cry shrilled above the pulse of the helicopter blades. Several Scions echoed her in anger.
The two boys moved closer.
Turf kicked up at their feet as the other guard fired off a burst from his weapon.
With one hand keeping his gun trained on the boys, the mustachioed guard flung Livy over his shoulder. Her tiny fists pummeled his back, but had no more effect than butterfly wings against a windowpane.
Dr. Carlhagen watched the boys’ faces for signs of attack as he retreated. He didn’t dare turn his back on them.
The thought occurred to him that he might be able to regain control right now. The Scions were not armed, for some reason. He smiled inwardly, realizing that Sensei was behind that. What a fool.
Dr. Carlhagen had no more chance to think, though. Pedro flew at him, a flurry of fists and feet. The boy was smaller than Dr. Carlhagen, but he made up for it with speed and skill.
Despite Vaughan’s expertise in the martial arts, Dr. Carlhagen was completely outmatched. Blows struck his abdomen, his arms.
Stumbling back, he covered his face. More blows rained down on him. The grass struck his back, driving the breath out of him.
Gunfire rang out. Someone shrieked.
Hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. His lungs tried to suck in air, but couldn’t quite catch it. He was being dragged.
The roar of the helicopter and the draft of its great propeller tore at his Scion uniform.
More gunfire. More cries.
Air returned to his lungs in an exquisite gulp. He shrugged off the hands dragging him. It was one of Senator Bentilius’s guards.
“You better not have killed any of them,” Dr. Carlhagen shouted.
He turned back. Constantine lay on his back, Pedro kneeling over him, pressing his hands to the boy’s side. Humphrey was sprinting toward the fallen Scion, followed by Obu, Sang, and Wanda.
The guard tugged Dr. Carlhagen’s shoulder. “The senator demands that you get in the helicopter.”
“She does, does she?”
Curse that old hag, ordering me about like one of her lackeys, he thought. “If that boy dies . . .”
Gunfire erupted from across the quad. The air sizzled as bullets passed overhead.
The guards returned fire.
Scions fell to the grass. Some ran for the dining hall.
“Stop!” Dr. Carlhagen shrieked.
“Get in the chopper!” the guard cried.
The moment hung thickly. All of Dr. Carlhagen’s plans were bending, just on the verge of snapping into pieces.
The guard next to Dr. Carlhagen spun suddenly and dropped to the grass.
Half his face was missing. The other half was still. Blood soaked the remaining bit of his thick mustache.
Instinct propelled Dr. Carlhagen toward the helicopter. Already the stairs were retracting. He leapt aboard as the machine’s engines revved.
The hull pinged with bullet impacts.
The chopper strained. Bullets struck like hail, loud and clanging. Dr. Carlhagen flattened himself on the floor as the chopper climbed out of range of the Scion’s weapons.
And then it was over.
Senator Bentilius was already strapped into a seat. Face pale as alabaster, she pointed to the seat next to her. It was the only forward-facing one free, so he plopped himself into it and buckled the five-point harness. A moment later, the wiry guard thrust Livy into Dr. Carlhagen’s lap.
He wrapped his arms around her squirming body and pressing his lips against her ear. “Be still, child. It’s a long fall into the ocean and I wouldn’t want you to slip.”
The words had their intended effect. Her struggle ceased.
He peeked through a window as the chopper banked. Scions swarmed across the quad, pointing and shouting. A few covered their mouths with their hands. Two older girls shook their fists, faces masks of fury. Most of the Scions had circled around Constantine. The aircraft turned and they were gone.
The guard handed him and Senator Bentilius headsets. Dr. Carlhagen pulled the padded cups over his ears and caught the last bit of the pilot’s question: “ . . . a particular destination?”
Before Dr. Carlhagen could answer, Senator Bentilius spoke. “St. Lazarus.”
She ignored his pointed glare. Clearly these men would take orders only from her. As the chopper spun away from the campus and headed toward the sea, Dr. Carlhagen’s eyes followed the long, twisting line of the gravel road that led away from the school. A plume of dust rose from it in the distance. A flash of red broke into a clearing in the trees. It was the Jeep speeding toward the gate. It had to be one of the Scions driving it.
Dr. Carlhagen gritted his teeth in a humorless smile. St. Vitus was boiling in chaos at the moment, but soon all would freeze into order.
He hoped Constantine lived. The boy’s Progenitor wasn’t known for his patience, as his political enemies could attest. If any of them still lived.
Livy started to struggle again and he loosened his grip. She squirmed to the window. He watched with interest as she pressed her small palms to the plastic. Her ponytail had come loose, and her blond curls tumbled over her face.
“Get away from there, child,” Senator Bentilius snapped.
The girl turned her eyes away from the island below and stared at the senator, giving her a look of absolute defiance. Dr. Carlhagen marveled at how short a period the child had been at the Scion School and how quickly she had taken on Jacey’s attitudes, right down to the look of hatred in her eyes.
19
A Dark Swell
“Come on! Open!” Jacey shouted at the chain-link gate in the Scion School fence. The gate shivered as it slid in its track. Red lights flashed on posts to either side. An alarm whooped, stark and shrill in the growing quiet as the helicopter shrank toward the coast.
“Why are they leaving already?” Summer asked.
Jacey didn’t know. “Humphrey!” she barked into the walkie-talkie. “What’s going on?”
No answer. He hadn’t responded to any of her calls the whole ride from the docks. Unusual for him, which made her stomach grind.
Finally the gate opened wide enough for the Jeep to pass. Summer stomped the accelerator and they burst through. The Jeep tore up the path, mango grove blurring to one side, Boys’ Hall a smear of white on the other.
Scions crowded the quad, some hugging each other, some still watching the helicopter as it flew into the distance. Sang spotted the Jeep and waved his arms. He ran to meet them as Summer skidded the vehicle to a stop.
Jacey had already unbuckled and she leapt out. “What happened?”
Sang pointed in the direction of the helicopter. “Dr. Carlhagen and the senator got out. They flew away.”
Jacey closed her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. “If that’s the worst of it, I think we lucked out.”
“That’s not the worst,” said a new voice. Humphrey. His narrowed gaze lingered on Sang before turning to Jacey. “One of the guards shot Constantine. And Dr. Carlhagen took Livy.”
His words hung in the air. Jacey understood them, but they didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t mean anything. They were crazy. “What was that about Livy?”
Already her body buzzed with rage.
“Dr. Carlhagen took her,” Humphrey said. “Constantine is—” his voice broke.
Humphrey blurred. The island titled. Jacey pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to keep a sudden internal pressure from making her head explode.
He took Livy!
“How could you let this happen?”
“There were two guards,” Sang said. “They both had guns. When they took Livy, Pedro and Constantine tried to attack Dr. Carlhagen. And then Horace . . .”
The world snapped into focus as a cloak of chilled air curled around Jacey’s body. Her bones felt heavy, as if suddenly transformed into iron. She climbed out of the Jeep. “You people let him take Livy?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Sang said. “No one could have—”
“Shut. Up,” Jacey said between clenched teeth. She stepped toe to toe with Sang and shoved his chest. “You did this! You called in that helicopter. You let Dr. Carlhagen go.”
Sang stumbled back, jaw slackening in shock. Or, at least, the appearance of shock.
She shoved him again. “Admit it. You are Mr. Justin!” Her palm cracked into his cheek. Sang’s head jarred to the side. He brought his hand to the hot red mark on his skin.
Jacey drew her arm back for another strike, palm on fire from the first blow. But Humphrey caught her wrist. He squeezed his body between her and Sang. “Stop.”
Jacey yanked her wrist free and spun to glare at all the Scions gathering around. “You let him take her!” she shouted. Several blanched at her accusation; most turned away with reddened faces, whether from shame or anger Jacey couldn’t tell.
“We couldn’t do anything,” Humphrey said. “Did you want more of us to get shot?”
“How can you even ask that question? They can’t shoot any of us.” She smacked her chest with the palm of her hand. “We’re clones of powerful people. The whole point of this place is to keep us alive.”
“But they did shoot someone,” Tytus said, striding forward. His voice was soft but firm. The Snake’s sharp features gave him an elfin air. Over the past few days, a permanent tight-mouthed scowl had banished his usual easy smile. Jacey knew the boy hadn’t grown physically, but his presence surely had.
But that was true of all the Scions. The stress of recent events had hardened them, molded them, stolen their innocence.
Dansha, a Spider, moved to stand beside Tytus. She nodded in agreement, fixing Jacey with a determined stare even as tears streamed down her cheeks.
