Seven Years Ago
“Shhh,” she whispered. “They’ll hear.”
Lexa was trying to teach him how to use the crawl spaces to spy on the kitchen staff. The air ducts had been too narrow for his broadening shoulders—something that had made Doc smirk and Lexa frown with confusion.
“How come you’re getting so…big?” she’d asked, eyeing his arms.
It was all he could do not to show off how well his biceps were coming along. “Growing up, sneak.”
“Huh,” she’d said, before shrugging and running off to climb her ropes. Her interest had left him feeling a little wobbly.
Now, though, they were in utility easements. The passages were wider, so the wiring could be worked on, but he still didn’t like the feeling of being trapped, and his breathing had turned ragged and noisy.
“S-sorry,” he gasped.
She stopped crawling forward and turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Just need a second.” Quinn forced himself to breathe more slowly. Sure, he could bench press three times what Lexa could. He could outrun her, too. But being trapped in tight places? Screws, why did she think this was fun?
“We need to hurry. They’re going to serve the soup any minute.”
He nodded and began following her. There was a service cubby in the corner of the kitchen, and he could hear the cook—human, because why would an artificial care about good food (which totally explained why they both stole cookies every chance they got)—bustling around to ready the salads. Maren was hosting some politicians to talk about the gubernatorial race, and dinner had to be perfect.
He and Lexa overheard them talking on the way to the dining room about the “terrible tragedy” that befell the Shaws and their security team six months ago. Suicide hill, the steep road leading to Maren’s house, was the site of many hovercraft accidents. So no one questioned that they’d gone straight into the lake after their car malfunctioned.
Very sad.
Quinn felt nothing but disgust about the whole thing, especially his part in it. Sure, Governor Shaw had been a blowhard, but his party didn’t deserve to be gunned down while guests in someone else’s house.
The message had gotten through loud and clear to the rest of the council, though. Frak with the Quad, you get a bullet—or four—right through the skull.
Quinn flushed a little at his daring. Cursing was his new favorite vice. Yes, he could curse like most artificials: screws, gears, mech-headed tool. But he liked the feel of the human curse words on his tongue, too. So he used them to keep them from having any power over him.
If he used their words, they meant nothing.
Which was also why, in his head, he’d started saying “Maren” without the Miss tacked on. If Doc could do it, so could he. He was done being a scared little boy.
“She’s leaving!” Lexa’s excitement was barely contained. “Preston came to tell her one of the guests had some questions about the salad.”
The cook had gotten onto them for taking cookies, and she was mean as hell to all the artificials. Quinn had caught her cuffing Preston across the face because the tablecloth had a spot on it—after dinner. The wine stain had come from Maren’s glass, and somehow that was Preston’s fault.
Quinn couldn’t let that slide. So he had decided they needed a new cook.
As dinner had started, he’d disabled the kitchen security camera. The cook, of course, had shooed the guards away, telling them she’d raise an alarm if “a gang of nasty Bolts” showed up, but that she didn’t want them underfoot for no good reason other than to watch her stir soup.
Just like he planned—now they could go into the kitchen without being seen.
“Let’s go,” he said.
They crept into the kitchen. The pot of butternut squash soup bubbled on the stove. It was thick with cream and smelled delicious. Quinn smiled; that wouldn’t last long.
Lexa ran for the salt. He ran for the cayenne pepper. They worked quickly, dumping half the salt and a quarter of the pepper into the soup. He’d chosen cayenne because specks of black pepper would’ve been too noticeable in the golden soup.
Lexa went to the door to keep watch. “She’s talking to one of the ladies about the salad dressing.”
Quinn stirred the mess into the soup, rinsed the spoon, and put it away.
“She’s coming back!” Lexa hustled over and put the salt and pepper away. “Into the cubby!”
They raced into the cubby, and Lexa barely had the door closed before the cook hurried in, muttering, “Who does she think she is, asking all those questions? As if we’d alter the menu just for her. The citrus vinaigrette is Miss Maren’s favorite, and I’m not changing it for some two-bit reporter. No, ma’am.”
The barrage of insults continued the entire time she dished up the soup. Quinn didn’t know how she missed the change in smell—cayenne was pretty obvious. But she must’ve been so peeved that she didn’t notice.
Preston arrived a few moments later with empty salad plates—save one.
“Did that hussy not eat?” the cook grumbled. “She’s going to go hungry if she keeps turning her nose up at everything.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Preston said, sounding bored.
She loaded up his tray with the soup and sent him on his way. Lexa had her hand clamped over her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh.
“We need to get back,” Quinn whispered. “If we’re in the training room when this goes down, how could we possibly be involved?”
She made a face. “I can’t lie like you can. I hope they don’t ask.”
They started crawling back to the utility adjunct near the service entrance, when they heard the kitchen door swing open, and a panicked Preston saying, “Miss Maren’s coming… The soup…”
“What did you put in the soup?” Maren’s voice promised pain and suffering. “I understand you weren’t happy with Carolee for not liking the salad, but I won’t have my staff—”
“Miss Maren, I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
There was an icy pause. “It doesn’t matter. I haven’t been pleased with your service, anyway. You’re dismissed. You, show her out, then come back and serve the roast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Preston answered.
Quinn and Lexa crawled faster until they tumbled out into the service entrance behind a stack of crates. The cook was tearfully accepting a ride from one of the security guards. When Maren dismissed someone, she didn’t mess around.
Once they were gone, the two of them scrambled upstairs, using a route Lexa had developed that avoided the security sweeps. The first time she’d sneaked into the training room while Doc watched all the security feeds without seeing her, he’d tossed her in the air, laughing.
Now, it gave them the run of the entire house, except for Maren’s quarters, of course. They still hadn’t figured out how to leave the grounds without being caught, but Quinn was working on it. These little incursions were training for that day.
They stumbled into the training room, panting and laughing.
“I wish we could’ve seen the look on her face,” Lexa said. “She was so mean, I’m glad she got kicked out.”
“Me, too, even if her snickerdoodles were the best out of the last three cooks.” Quinn sighed. “Does it ever strike you as weird that the two of us live here, eating Maren’s food, instead of the Precipice dorms downtown?”
“Miss Maren,” Lexa said, shooting a glance at the door. “But I hadn’t really thought about that. I mean, the security artificials live here. So do Preston and the cleaning staff. Why wouldn’t we live here, too?”
“Yes, but we have special instructors, combat training, expensive tutors.” He lowered his voice. “They’re preparing us for something. Doc hinted about that once, and he has to be right. But for what?”
“I don’t—”
Lexa’s answer was cut short by the sound of footsteps in the hall. They split apart, Quinn hurrying to start up a computer simulation he’d been running and Lexa to shimmy up a rope to the ceiling.
A moment later, Maren, Piers, Doc, and Dr. Martine entered the room. Dr. Martine looked stern—a bad sign. Doc looked blank. Another bad sign.
“What did you do?” Maren’s voice carried through the open space, bouncing off every hard surface to rebound back to her. “One of my guests went into anaphylactic shock because she’s allergic to cayenne pepper.”
Lexa let out a squeak in the rafters, and Maren fixed her death-ray stare on her. “Oh, yes. That little prank nearly killed someone.”
“Miss Maren,” Quinn said, to deflect the attention away from Lexa. “What are you talking about?”
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “Someone put a bunch of salt and cayenne in our soup. The cook swore to security that she didn’t do it. I had to make a public example of someone, and she was on warning already, so I let her go. But the moment we figured out what was wrong, I knew who was behind such a childish and insolent trick.”
Quinn sat completely still. She hadn’t asked a question, so he wasn’t obligated to say anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lexa climbing all the way to the top platform in the corner of the room. When she got there, she hugged her knees to her chest.
Maren noticed her distress, too. “Lexa, dear. Come down. Now.” She turned to Dr. Martine. “See, she’s trouble. And now, she’s corrupting Quinn. I can’t have my investment tainted by a failed experiment.”
Dr. Martine opened his mouth, then shut it, like he had no idea what to say.
When Lexa came to stand before them, she bowed her head so her hair hung in her face. He could practically smell her desperation. She couldn’t lie, so if they asked her a direct question, she’d have to answer or her security programming would give her away. That shoulder twitch would be her undoing—permanently.
Maren walked over and put a finger under her chin to force her to look up. “The cookies last week, hiding my data pad yesterday, and now this? Why did you do it? I ought to let Piers take care of you, but maybe it’s time to terminate your program if you can’t—”
Quinn leapt to his feet. “It was my idea. All of it. I dragged Lexa into it.”
Lexa shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. The cookies had been her idea, but he’d take the blame for all of it. He didn’t know why Maren hated Lexa and not him, but he’d use that to their advantage to keep her safe and whole.
“Well, I must say I’m very disappointed,” Maren said. “Caldwell, take Lexa to her room. Quinn, you’ll go with Piers.”
“No!” Lexa screamed, fighting her way free of Dr. Martine. Before she could reach Quinn, though, Doc grabbed her arms and held her back. “No! Let me go! Don’t take Quinn. Take me!”
“Quinn’s already admitted his guilt,” Maren said, obviously enjoying Lexa’s fear. “Dr. Mendal, remove her…and give her a sedative.”
“She won’t remember what happened if we do,” Doc warned.
“Exactly.” Maren went to Quinn and gripped his shoulder tight enough to bruise. “I want her to have no memory of this, so Quinn can bear his punishment alone.”
They dragged a howling Lexa from the room. Maren shook her head. “I see why Dr. Mendal calls her Hellcat. She’s about as feral as an alley stray. There are days I question the wisdom of creating you a helpmate. So far, it hasn’t worked out exactly like the old Bible stories claimed. Then again, I’m not sure you’ve developed a strong enough personality to make her submit to you properly.” She released his shoulder. “I expect that, from here on out, you’ll take a firm hand with Lexa. She’s yours to control and your responsibility. You have the ability to work people over to your will. You’ll do that with Lexa, or she’s finished.”
Quinn’s stomach twisted in misery. Bend Lexa to his will? He’d sooner be able to control the wind than restrain her. Besides, that sounded like a good way to make her hate him forever.
Could he be rough with her to save her life, though? Because that might be his only choice.
“Now,” Maren said, “Piers will provide a lesson in what it means to cross me.”
“Come on, beanpole.” Piers grabbed his arm. “Downstairs we go.”
Once they were in the stairwell, the frustration and anger about his situation finally got the better of him. “I weigh almost as much as you. So who’s the beanpole now, stickman?”
Oh, gears… Had his mouth malfunctioned?
Piers laughed. “There’s a difference between wiry and weak, moron.” He slammed Quinn against the wall, and the stair rail knocked the wind out of him. As he gasped for breath, Piers leaned in close. “And you are weak.”
A tear ran down Quinn’s cheek. He was weak. He’d wasted his time on petty crimes. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Piers hauled him up and led him down to his “workshop.”
The artificials called it the horror factory.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Piers hit Quinn with a low-energy stunner blast, just enough to turn his limbs to jelly and make him more compliant about being strapped into the chair. It was like a dentist’s chair, except it had restraints at the chest, waist, and calves. Once you were strapped in, you weren’t going anywhere.
Piers made sure the straps were extra tight. The bump on his nose, where Quinn had broken it in a bid for escape three months ago, had taught him “beanpole” was a lot stronger than he looked. Quinn counted that as one of his few victories in this place.
Getting the cook fired was another.
He was being reckless, though. Lexa was too important to him to screw up anymore. It wasn’t just the pain he knew was coming. It had nothing to do with any punishment they could devise.
He knew, for sure, that he’d learned how to love. Maybe it was a programmed response based on a girl created for this sole purpose, but he felt it. Maybe he was only twelve and she was barely ten—but he loved her. He’d do anything to protect her. Sure, the thought of kissing her was a little gross, but that didn’t make his feelings any less intense.
“What are you grinning about over there?” Piers said from his workbench.
Quinn wanted to say, “Your ugly face,” but he was running a new program: being good for Lexa’s sake. “Just glad we’re getting a new cook.”
Piers surprised him by laughing. “You know, I hated that old cow. She always served undercooked or lukewarm stuff to the staff. Like she couldn’t be bothered to feed us if Ms. DeGaul wasn’t in residence.”
Huh. “Does that mean you won’t punish me? I promise to be very convincing.”
He turned around, a padded cudgel in hand. “What’s the fun in that?” He swung the cudgel and nodded. “Now, the boss said we had to do this so your marks are hidden. She was dead serious. Little Lexie is not to know that you took her punishment. Ms. DeGaul doesn’t want you to get ideas about being noble or heroic.”
Quinn deflated a little. Fine. Lexa would never know he took her punishments. But that wouldn’t stop him.
“Then let’s get this over with.”
The first blow across the top of his legs came before the words died on his lips, and a yelp escaped. After the second blow slammed into his chest, he clamped his mouth shut and retreated into his mind. It was the only safe place he had.
* * *
“Come on, Lexa, put your back into it,” Doc called.
She grunted and tugged at Quinn’s arm. “He’s too heavy!”
“It’s about leverage,” he told her. “Don’t pull. Use your hip to bump me forward. The momentum is all you need.”
They’d been trying all morning to teach Lexa how to flip someone larger over her shoulder, but she couldn’t seem to get it.
“Hellcat, this is basic close-quarters combat. You don’t figure this out, we might as well teach you to sew.”
Lexa let out an impressive string of swear words, including something about Doc’s mother. Quinn threw back his head and laughed. She was so cute when she was indignant.
“Mistake,” she growled, and with surprising speed, she rammed her shoulder into Quinn’s stomach and, as he bent over, dragged him over her back to drop him on the floor gasping like a fish.
“Yes, just like that!” Doc said, laughing so hard, tears were in his eyes.
That hurt Quinn’s pride, and he struggled to his knees. “Lucky shot.”
Lexa propped her fists on her hips. “Was not. Want me to hit you again?”
“Enough, enough,” Doc said. “You two have been sniping at each other all day. You need a break. Go play.”
“Play what?” Lexa asked. “We can’t go outside anymore.”
“And who’s fault was that?”
Quinn and Lexa pointed at each other.
“Exactly,” Doc barked. “Reprogramming all the gardening equipment to mow the words ‘Maren’s Pizza Parlor’ in the grass was a bad idea.”
“It was Quinn’s idea!”
“Lexa crawled into the garden shed and disabled all the safeguards.”
“You thought it up!” she said. “And now we’re being punished.”
He glared at his shoes. She had no idea just how much punishment was to be had after a prank, and that was the point. Maren told him he had to keep her in hand, so every time they got in trouble, he took the blame. Being grounded to the house paled in comparison to the burn marks on his lower back. He felt like they’d never heal—and they might not, since Piers repeatedly burned the same spots to “keep the merchandise as damage free as we can.”
Merchandise. Slave. Bolt.
Names he’d been called that meant he was less than human. None of that was Lexa’s fault. He was just having an ugly day. Anger stirred in his chest, and he knew he was seconds away from blowing. He turned and stormed out of the room.
Lexa called after him, but he used his long legs to his advantage and outdistanced her easily. He banged into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time to end up on the ground level near the service entrance. Maren was getting a delivery of food from a gourmet shop in town. Guests again. Another night of pretending to be invisible so no one would know she’d succeeded in creating artificial children. He tried to tell her it didn’t matter—that he could pass for human easily—but she said his existence was top secret, and the incident with the Shaws only made the need for that more apparent.
He stared out at the beautiful spring day. A soft breeze whistled into the delivery bay, bringing the scent of cut grass and the rose bushes near the gate. The human guards were busy chatting up the cute delivery girls, while the artificial guards inspected the cargo. It would be so easy to walk away. Turn invisible and leave this place behind. Trackers messed with internal electronics, so he didn’t have one—the last artificial that had one installed had gone homicidal. Instead, they used pain switches to ensure compliance… but Quinn didn’t have one of those, either. They were so confident in their ability to find a rogue artificial that they allowed him his free will. And they were so confident they’d cowed his free will that they didn’t worry about him roaming the house without supervision.
Their arrogance made him seethe. If it weren’t for Lexa, he’d do it. He’d walk away.
“Beanpole? What are you doing down here?” Piers whispered in his ear.
Quinn jumped. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d failed to hear the man creep up on him. “I needed some air. This is the closest I can get.”
“Now, that’s not true. Your bedroom window opens two inches. Why are you really here? Thinking of disappearing?” Piers grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt and yanked him into the hallway. “I’m watching you. Screw up and little Lexie might suffer your punishment for a change.”
Quinn’s nostrils flared. “What do you want with me? Why are you always lurking like some kind of candy man waiting to take me to the black market?”
“Candy man? Black market? Where did a Bolt like you learn about those things?” Piers’s smile was wolfish, turning his cold, pinched features into something primal. “But what I want is simple. I want you to understand that you can’t outsmart me. Petty tricks are one thing, but you ever try to escape, and I will hunt you down like the abomination you are.”
“Don’t you call him that,” a shrill voice demanded.
Quinn froze. “Lexa, it’s fine. Go back upstairs.”
But Piers was already on the move. He lunged and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you ever talk to me that way, rat.”
“Don’t you talk to me that way, you piece of shast!”
Quinn didn’t have time relish the shocked look on Piers’s face as he realized Lexa wasn’t scared of him before she twisted, threw him over her shoulder, and came up holding his stunner. She aimed it at Piers’s head. “Oops, safety’s off. Move and I’ll burn your brain out.”
“Lex,” Quinn said, hands up. He moved slowly away from the wall. “Put the stunner down. This is trouble we don’t need.”
“He called you an abomination. He called me rat. He hurts you—I don’t always forget, you know, no matter what kind of pills they give me. This has to stop.” She looked down the hall, to the delivery bay. “We could go. Quinn? We could go.”
“You go, and I’ll have you down in seconds,” Piers growled, staring at the business end of his own stunner.
Lexa tightened her finger on the trigger. “Nah, you’ll be too busy drooling and wetting your pants.”
Quinn was about to suggest they all forget this happened when Piers lunged for the stunner. Lexa, fast as a young cheetah, dodged him, jumped, and shot him on the fly. He dropped, his limbs twitching.
Lexa shoved the stunner into her belt. “Let’s go.”
Quinn took a look at Piers’s limp form and smiled. Suddenly, he wasn’t afraid anymore. What was left to be afraid of, anyway? They were dead, either way, so why not taste freedom first. “Ladies first.”
They crept into the delivery bay. The two artificials were reloading the crates after their search, and the human guards were still flirting with the girls.
Lexa led Quinn along the wall, walking light on her toes. He tried to emulate her, but he was too big to stay hidden in the shadows, so he frog crawled instead. Maren’s fleet of hovers would hide them most of the way, but they would have a few moments in the open at the bay doors.
“Lex,” Quinn breathed. “Wait until the delivery hover starts up and slip out as they leave.”
She gave him a thumbs up and crouched in the corner near the door. Quinn scooted in next to her, his heart hammering like crazy. They were doing it. They were really leaving.
The delivery hover spooled up with a whine. Lexa caught his eye, jerked her head at the door, and crept forward. The door started to close, and they rolled out of its way into the edge of Maren’s garden by the gate. Being surrounded by thorn bushes wasn’t what Quinn imagined his first few moments of freedom would be like, but he’d take it. He breathed in the scent of roses. They smelled different out here.
“Okay, where to?” Lexa asked.
“To the lake. There’s lots of places to hide in the ruins, and if we need to, we can swim out so dogs won’t be able to track our scents.”
She nodded, and they crawled down to the edge of the drive, watching for guard patrols on the roof.
“We’re clear,” she said, darting out into the road.
Quinn hurried to catch up, then took the lead as they sneaked through the alley and into the field of grass near the lake. Lakefront property—so many places to hide. He showed Lexa how to army-crawl through the field, staying low so the cameras or guards wouldn’t see them. Their progress was slow, though, and before they made it to the towers Doc had shown him all those months ago, the alarms went off at Maren’s house.
“Go!” Quinn said, shoving Lexa toward the lake. “Into the water. Hurry!”
Guards were pouring out of the house and into the field like ants after a discarded candy bar. Quinn shoved Lexa again.
“Doc didn’t teach me to swim yet,” she whispered, eyes huge.
“It’s simple. Hang on to me, and if we need to go under, hold your breath. We can hold our breath longer than regular humans. We’ll go under a minute at a time, okay?” He pulled her into the water and settled her on his back. “Just like a dolphin ride.”
“What’s a dolphin?” she asked. Her teeth chattered audibly next to his ear as the cold water seeped over them.
“I read about them once. They’re mammals, but live in the ocean.”
“They can’t have gone far!” Piers yelled. He sounded murderous. “Find them or I’ll have you terminated.”
Shouts and the sounds of men running spurred Quinn forward. “We’re going under. One, two, three.” He kicked off from the bottom and dove into the murky shallows, using the slimy underwater grass to pull them along rather than kick his feet and give them away.
They surfaced a few moments later, and Quinn stayed low. The men were walking a grid through the field, while Piers and another guard took off in a security hover. He flew straight toward the lake.
He’d have heat-sensing equipment on board.
“Lexa, we’re going under again. Longer this time.”
“O-o-okay.”
He dove, using one hard kick to push them to the bottom. There, he slithered along like an eel among the water plants, hoping they were deep enough to hide their heat signature from Piers.
The water was dark and dirty, so he had to feel his way. That’s how he missed seeing the concrete piling. He rammed it with his shoulder and Lexa let go.
No! He looked up, and she was floating to the surface. He clawed his way upward only to find Piers’s hover right over them.
“Clever, but not clever enough, beanpole,” he shouted. “Now, swim back to shore, or I’m going to shoot you and pay the consequences with Ms. DeGaul later.”
Lexa bobbed next to him, fear in her eyes. “I can hold my breath longer. Promise.”
Quinn put an arm around her waist to keep her afloat. “It’s no good. We tried. It’s over.”
She slumped against him. “I won’t let you take the punishment.”
“You have to,” he said. “She’ll kill you, otherwise.”
As he started paddling toward shore, careful to keep their heads above water, Lexa said, “But I’m afraid that this time, she’ll want to kill you.”
* * *
Maren made them stand on a plastic sheet as soon as Piers dragged them, soaking wet, to her office. Her eyes flashed with more anger than Quinn ever remembered seeing. His confidence that he was too valuable to her to kill wavered.
“I should have you sold off for parts, Quinn,” she snapped, pacing the floor, her steps so heavy that her high heels made marks on the wooden floor. “But we’ve invested too much in you. You’re a fifty-million-credit project already.” She glared at Lexa. “This one, however, has only wasted half that much. And from what I understand, she subjected my chief of security to bodily harm.”
Lexa propped her hands on her hips, defiant even though her lips were blue with cold and water dripped steadily from her hair onto her back. “He hurt Quinn. I don’t let anybody hurt Quinn.” She took a step toward Maren, fierce and quivering. “Not even you.”
“That’s it,” Maren said. She stopped pacing and turned from fire to ice—a very bad sign. “Caldwell, we’re done. Are you going to do it or shall I have Piers?”
“I’d be happy to take care of it,” Piers said.
Fear and anger pulsed inside Quinn. “No! Take me. It’s my fault. It was all my idea.”
“Not this time,” Piers said. “And I have the stunner mark to prove it.” He smirked at Lexa. “It’d be my genuine pleasure to rid you of this problem, Ms. DeGaul.”
Lexa lifted her chin. “I’m going to kill you someday, Piers. And you’ll never see it coming.”
“Lex, stop!” Quinn gripped her upper arm and turned her to face him. “They’re going to term you if you don’t shut up!”
“We’re going to term her, either way.” Maren shook her head. “Kids. What were we thinking, Caldwell?”
“My dear, the project wasn’t a total failure.” Dr. Martine turned sad eyes on Lexa. “Give me the night to map her brain patterns. If I can isolate the problem that makes her so willful, we could have a new version that’s just as strong and fast, but without the disdain for authority.”
“Fine, but I want a blonde with blue eyes, this time,” Maren warned. “Understand me?”
Dr. Martine’s shoulders drooped. “Perfectly.”
Quinn didn’t understand—what did it matter that the next version had blonde hair, instead of Lexa’s rich brown? Was it to remind him of what he’d lost? To make this new girl as different from Lexa as possible as a warning? His eyes stung with tears. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
Piers yanked Lexa away. “I’ll take her to your lab and have her restrained.”
“Take care not to damage her,” Dr. Martine said firmly. “I need her intact for mapping.”
Piers dragged Lexa to the door. She kicked and screamed, and even bit his arm, but he didn’t turn her loose. They were really taking her away. They were taking her away forever.
Everything inside of Quinn exploded into a universe of pain and rage.
“No!” He launched himself at Piers, landing one good, solid punch to the older man’s chin. Piers’s head rocked back, but he didn’t let Lexa go.
“Oh, for stars’ sakes.” Maren pressed a button on the underside of her desk. Ten seconds later, the room was flooded with guards pointing stunners at Quinn’s head. “Put him in detention. Piers, once you’re done delivering Lexa, take this one to Dr. Drummond. I’ve had about enough of this free-will nonsense.”
Dr. Martine heaved a sigh. “At least let him retain decision and thought control. Like you said, we’ve spent an enormous fortune on him. We need him to be able to reason and think without fear. A switch will be enough.”
“Fine,” she spat. “Just get them both out of my office.”
“Let me say goodbye!” Quinn cried out. “Please. She’s my only friend.”
Maren rolled her eyes, but Dr. Martine held up a hand. “We raised his hopes, only to dash them in the end. This is partly our fault. Letting him say goodbye is only fair.”
There was a pause while they stared at one another. Finally, she nodded, looking really tired. “Okay. And Quinn, for what it’s worth, I am sorry we had to put you through this. She was flawed, and we should’ve terminated her before you got too attached.”
The guards pushed Quinn into the hall, and Lexa rushed to wrap her thin arms around his middle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” She looked up at him, her gaze intense. “Remember—never forget—whose fault it really is. Promise?” Lexa stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Make them bleed, Quinn. Make them pay for everything they’ve done.”
He felt his world crumble around him even as a grim purpose filled him. “I promise.”
“Enough.” Piers tore Lexa from his grip. “Three, Nine, take the boy to detention.”
Two low-functioning artificials grabbed his arms in matching vice grips. As they were dragged in opposite directions, Lexa screamed, “I’m your best friend! Always!”
“Lexa!” His heart was going to rip itself apart. He’d never survive this pain. “Lexa!”
Piers yanked her around the corner, but Quinn could hear her screaming his name. Something inside him broke. Make them bleed, she’d said. Remember who’s at fault. Well, he knew damn well who that was.
With a roar of rage, he ripped one arm free and punched the artificial in the jaw so hard, something crunched beneath his fist. When that one went down, he yanked the other toward him, sprang off the floor, and kicked him in the chest. Bones cracked under the impact.
Quinn flew into Maren’s office before the security team could get their bearings, and he landed on top of her with his fingers around her throat. “Give her back! Give her back!”
“Quinn, stop!” Dr. Martine barked, trying to pry his hands away. “This isn’t helping. The decision is made.”
“Our lives are worthless,” Quinn said as Maren kicked beneath him. His rage turned to hopeless resignation. His life was over, but he’d take her with him. It was all he had left. “I won’t live like a slave anymore. You’ll have to kill me.”
“I’ve got this,” Doc said behind him.
Quinn started to tell him to back off, but something heavy slammed into his skull, and blackness swallowed him whole, drowning him in the sound of Lexa’s screams.
* * *
“Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen,” a voice was saying far away. “Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen. Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen.”
“He’s coming back online,” Dr. Martine said.
“It doesn’t take long,” a man with a smooth, pleasant voice answered. “He needs to recognate, then we can test the switch and see if we need to adjust the output.”
“Thank you, Dr. Drummond. I’ll stay with him if you want to grab a coffee.”
“I’ll take you up on that. I’ll be back in ten. He should be fully aware by then.”
The door opened, and a cool whisper of air slid over Quinn’s skin. It closed with a quiet snap, and he woke up a bit more. He was… What was this? Where had they taken him? Restraints held his back flat against a table, but he was facing the floor. They’d removed his shirt, but not his pants or shoes. He stirred and discovered his arms were asleep and that the back of his neck, right above where it met his spine, hurt like he’d been cut open.
He tried to tell Dr. Martine he was awake, but all that came out was, “Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen.”
Dr. Martine knelt at the head of the bed, so that he was underneath Quinn. “You can’t answer me yet, but I know you can hear me and understand.” He spoke barely above a murmur. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been able to save her, but things are dangerous for all of us right now. Attacking Maren was a stupid move, even if I do understand the motivation.
“From here on out, I need you to be a model citizen. That’s going to go against everything you want, and I know I’m asking you to do something incredibly difficult. But Quinn, you can hide behind a dozen different masks, act a thousand characters. Do this for me. Don’t be too contrite to raise suspicions, but do, over time, prove yourself more docile and compliant.”
“Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen!” The words weren’t what he wanted, but the tone came across.
“I know,” Dr. Martine said. “But please, don’t give up. I couldn’t save her.” His voice broke. “I won’t lose you, too. You’re our one hope now.”
“Six, two…what…hope?” he forced out between clenched teeth.
Dr. Martine’s eyes bored into his. “The Quad ordered you for reasons we don’t yet know, but suspect. And there are some of us who think that absolute power isn’t right. Whatever you think of me, or Doc, or even Maren, understand there is worse out there. Piers is only a faded example of the evil lurking in the wings. You cannot fall into their hands before you’ve been prepared. Before we know you’re ready to keep from being used to ruin the lives of a lot of good people.”
“Like…you?”
“No.” Dr. Martine stared at the floor. “Not like me. Better people. Now, when Dr. Drummond comes back, your new pain switch will be tested, and it’ll be excruciating. Don’t fight. Bide your time. I won’t be able to speak freely with you again after this. I have to distance myself, but know I’m watching—and hoping.”
The doorknob creaked as it turned, and Dr. Martine rose. “Remember what I said.”
Quinn didn’t even have time to digest everything before Drummond asked, “Is he coherent?”
“Yes,” Dr. Martine said. “Aren’t you, Quinn?”
Anger swirled thick in his gut, but he managed, “Yes, sir.”
“Very good!” Drummond sounded way too chipper for a man about to inflict pain on a bound subject, and Quinn curled his fists at his sides.
“We’ll start with a low-level ‘reminder’ test. This will be for defiance and failure to follow commands.”
A blink later, a glaring headache throbbed in Quinn’s forehead, and he gasped.
“Good, good!” Drummond leaned down to look at him. “Yes, that worked well. I can see it by the way you’re squinting. All right, next level is for rule breaking.”
The glaring headache turned into a searing pain, and Quinn vomited lake water and the remnants of his lunch all over the floor.
“Ah, yes. That’s partly why you’re still upside down. No aspirating on my watch.” The smile in Drummond’s voice, like he was enjoying Quinn’s discomfort and humiliation, was almost too much to take. “Last level. This is for attacking your handlers. Lay hands on Ms. DeGaul again, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
“I already do,” Quinn whispered.
“Oh, not like this.” Drummond’s tone turned silky and dangerous. “Not nearly like this.”
A bolt of agony flashed through Quinn’s entire body, locking his jaw so he couldn’t even scream to release his pain. He went rigid, and his eyesight flickered in and out. The last thing he said before passing out was, “Kill me. Please.”
* * *
He woke up in his room. It was dark outside his tiny window, and his stomach cramped with hunger. When he sat up, though, the floor tilted, and the idea of eating was forgotten in his hurry to lie back down.
For a while, he let grief overwhelm him. Lexa was dead. He’d never see her smile again. She’d never sneak into his bed in the middle of the night after a nightmare. No more sparring practice or stealing cookies or ganging up on Doc in the training room.
Gone. She was gone forever.
An inhuman cry wrenched itself free from his lungs. Gone. She was gone. Half of his heart had been torn out and no one cared. Not one frakking soul. How he hated this place and everyone in it. Dr. Martine said he was sorry, but what good did that do? Nothing.
His only choices were to end his life or run. So what if Dr. Martine said he needed to pretend, to be compliant for some greater purpose. He had no greater purpose without his best friend. Part of his soul was dead—and he believed he had a soul. Loving Lexa had taught him that. He wasn’t a thing to be owned. He was alive, and he loved. That made him more human than the people who kept him locked away. He’d be free, one way or another.
Quinn stood, then rested a hand on his desk. Once the wave of dizziness passed, he went to the door. It was locked. Of course it was. That left only one way out.
He looked around the room, then laughed darkly. There wasn’t a single cord, sharp object, or means of electrocution in his room. They’d even taken his sheets while he was with Dr. Drummond. Maybe they understood his thought processes better than he’d assumed. Didn’t matter—this would be over one way or another.
Someday, Piers and Maren would get lax. He could be patient—watch, wait, and gather enough currency to run. Someday, he’d have an opportunity to escape into the city. He didn’t give two shasts about Dr. Martine’s plans.
He’d run the second they became complacent.
That thought sustained him through a very long night. Finally, just after dawn, Doc came with some toast and weak tea. “You ready to behave?”
“Depends,” Quinn muttered.
“What if I told you something that might make it easier?” Doc said.
He reached for the toast, and his stomach let out a loud rumble. It didn’t know he was falling apart inside. “Depends.”
“Funny,” Doc said, although his tone was carefully neutral. “It seems there was a problem in the prep room where they were keeping Lexa for the brain mapping.”
Quinn’s heart let out a painful thump. “What?”
“Strangest thing…no one’s entirely sure how she did it. But…” A smile spread across Doc’s craggy face. “Lexa escaped. Piers is furious.” Now he laughed a little. “She avoided every security camera on the grounds. It’s like she disappeared.”
“She did?” He couldn’t believe it. No, wait, of course he could. “She’s alive?”
“I can’t say for sure, but security teams were dispatched a few hours ago, and there’s no sign of her.”
Doc left him with his breakfast. Where had Lexa gone? Would she come back? No, he didn’t want her to come back. It wasn’t safe here. He’d do what he planned—he’d wait and escape on his own. And once he did, he’d find her. Together, they’d bring Precipice to its knees. They’d free their artificial brothers and sisters. And then? A cold, hard core of righteous anger filled him.
Then they’d take down the Quad.
Together.