Omega: The Girl in the Box, Book 5

by Crane, Robert J.

  “All right,” I said. “How far are we going to take this?”

  I saw Ariadne’s gaze flit to Old Man Winter, and his stone-faced response. He waited before answering, as though he were milking the moment of all the august pause he could put into it. “As far as it needs to go,” he said. “Omega has you as their target, and they have intended to lay their hands upon you since day one. I will not let them have you.” He let out a slow breath that fogged the air with frigid mist in front of his blue lips. “And I mean to know why they want you.”

  3.

  I walked back across the campus after my meeting with Ariadne and Old Man Winter, his words echoing in my ears. Why did Omega want me? I wondered, too, and had since they’d first sent Wolfe after me almost a year ago. The leaves blew around my ankles as an eddy of wind formed, causing them to drift up in a whirlwind around me. I blinked and took my hands out of my pockets as two of them, maple leaves, ran across my face and tickled my nose. I saw Reed, his fingers extended to the glass from the lobby, a smile on his face. When he saw he’d caught my attention, he dropped his hand and the wind around me faded, the leaves drifting away.

  He held the door for me as I walked up, my hands again snugged in the pockets of my coat. “Heya, brother,” I said in as casual a tone as I could as I walked past.

  “Heya, sis,” he said, and let the door swing shut after I passed then opened the next for me. “How was your meeting? Or should I call it an ass-chewing?”

  “Hardly.” I walked into the lobby of the dormitory. It was a wide area, oblong and directed down two hallways to the left and right, the two respective wings of the dormitory. Directly in front of us was the entrance to the cafeteria. People were already lined up out the door for dinner; it was close to time. I was hungry, but I wouldn’t be eating there tonight. “They just wanted to be sure I didn’t hesitate to kill next time rather than let myself go into danger.”

  “I was wondering about that myself,” Reed said, and I stopped, feeling my brow crumple as I gave him a look. The aromas of food came from within the cafeteria—meatloaf, I thought with a cringe. I could hear the chatter, some hushed whispers of a few newer metas talking about me in quiet undertones from near where the line formed for the cafeteria.

  “Oh?” I let my head swivel; in a normal situation I’d have been looking for a threat. In this case, I was withering a nearby teenage boy with a glare for staring at me. He had brown hair and glasses, and he didn’t look away from me, didn’t turn red, didn’t break eye contact. Annoying. “Why’s that?”

  “Because,” Reed said, lowering his head from the top of his lanky frame as though he were trying to bring it into view for me because I was much shorter than him, “Fries had a bead on you. He would have killed you, no hesitation. But you? You didn’t fire, even though you could have.”

  “I was told to get him alive, so I got him alive,” I said with only a little hostility. Defensive much?

  “And if they’d told you to bring him dead?” Reed’s right eyebrow was higher than the other. He held eye contact with me just a second too long for my taste. When I didn’t answer, he spoke again. “Why are you trying to scare off the newbs with your frightening glare?”

  “I don’t like the way they look at me,” I said, turning back to the teenager who I’d caught staring. “Like I’m some kind of freak.”

  “Umm, no,” he said. “They’re not looking at you like you’re some kind of freak.”

  I frowned at him. “What are you talking about? They stare, they whisper—it’s a full-blown epidemic of gossip, just like it has been since the beginning—”

  “Wrong,” Reed said with a little more energy and a slight smile. “Some of that, yeah. But they’re staring at you because they’re teenage boys, and because you’re—”

  “What?” I let my voice rise and drew looks. “You’re way off.”

  “Not so. You may be my sister—”

  “Half-sister,” I corrected.

  “—but yeah, I still know. And they’re not looking because they’re gossiping.”

  “Awkward,” I said with raised eyebrows. “But thanks for that.”

  He shrugged, but wore a smile. “I’m here to help.” His face shifted a little, expression almost pensive. “I never asked you this, but you really didn’t know I was your...?”

  I let my face scrunch up to show my incredulity. “How would I have known that? Do you think my mother gave me a lesson in family history?”

  “Just curious.” His eyes went back to the teenaged boys in line behind me, and I followed his gaze. All but the one with glasses averted their eyes before we caught them looking. The one with glasses, he didn’t seem to care, staring back at me, absolutely cool. “So you didn’t ever feel like...” Reed let his words trail off.

  “Like what?” I tore my eyes away from the teenager in line and looked back to Reed. “Like you were an awkward teenage boy?”

  “Hah! No.” He nodded toward the kid again. “You know...like he is towards you, but...towards me? Because you didn’t know?”

  A slow dawning came over me. “What? You mean like...” my voice turned hushed, “romantic? Ugh. Awkward much? No. No, never.” I watched his olive skin darken and his brow furrowed. “I mean, nothing personal, you’re a good guy, but—”

  “Yeah.” He held up a hand in a dismissive wave. “Friend zone. I got it.”

  “You’re my brother, for crying out loud!” I kept my exclamation to a low whisper, but I still drew some swiveled heads.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t know that,” he said, and nudged me in the ribs with his elbow. After a minute he grinned, and I shook my head, a smile of my own on my face. “Just needling you. You know, you should probably smile more often, Ms. Squad Leader. Maybe be more approachable. You might end up expanding your circle of friends.”

  “I’m good for now, I think. See you in a little bit?”

  “I’ll be there,” he promised, and gave me a wave as he turned and walked out of the dormitory.

  I watched him go, then turned and caught that teenager and his friends looking at me again. I shook my head and walked to the elevator bank just down the hall and pressed the button, causing a loud ding to sound immediately as one of the elevators opened for me. I stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor, and waited for the doors to close as I pondered Reed’s words. I had imagined myself to be rumored about in unkind ways, just as I had been a few months ago. It had always been that way for as long as I’d been at the Directorate, since I stood by and let Ariadne and Old Man Winter protect me while Wolfe was slaughtering his way through innocent people to get me to surrender to him.

  The thought of people talking badly about me was nothing new, and easily enough dealt with; I had friends to help me cope, after all. The thought of people talking about me in more pleasant terms—for some reason, that bothered me. I had seen people steer away from me in the halls, and I preferred the idea of being feared to the idea of being lusted after. It creeped me out and brought back associations with Wolfe in unfavorable ways.

  I felt a stir in the back of my head as the doors dinged open, and I realized it had been almost twenty-four hours since my last dose of chloridamide, the medication that kept my demons in check. Wolfe and Gavrikov were with me, always, and I could feel them through the medication sometimes, moving in the back of my head, like faint voices in an empty room. The chloridamide made it possible to (mostly) ignore them, to shut them away where I didn’t have to deal with them on a constant basis. A couple months ago I had gone a day with a diminished dose to see if I could control them naturally; the increased chatter from the two of them was exhausting. They fought over the most inane things, bickering enough that after three hours I had no desire to listen anymore and took a shot of chloridamide just to shut them up.

  I stepped out of the elevator o
nto the third floor, and walked down an open hall. To my left was a series of windows that looked down on the cubed structure of the cafeteria and to my right were doors, spaced every hundred feet or so down the hallway. The paint was fresh white, and the pungent smell of the primer and lacquer was still in the air. I took a deep breath of it, trying to ignore the fact that the chemical was probably not healthy for me. It made the place smell new, fancy, as if it had been built just for us—which it sort of had. I walked past four doors before I came to one marked with a gold plate that saidss “S. Nealon” on it. I heard the scanner next to the door beep as it reacted to the proximity of the key card I had in my pocket, and I reached for the handle and opened the door.

  I had lived on the first floor of the dorms for most of the time I had been at the Directorate, but a few months ago, when I left training, Ariadne handed me a key card and pointed me to the third floor. I’d never explored up here, and I found to my surprise that this was where M-Squad lived. It required a key card on your person to even access the floor, and there were only the eight of us up here—the four members of M-Squad, Kat, Scott, Reed and myself. There was a fourth floor, of course, and I knew Ariadne and Old Man Winter both had quarters up there. I’d seen it only once myself, though.

  My suite was light, open and spacious—lots of sunlight pouring down from the three paneled windows that opened into the living room, which was two steps down from the entryway where I came in. There was a kitchenette to my left and a subtle dividing half-wall that ran between the kitchenette and the living room. A set of French doors opened onto a balcony just beyond my living room, and the ceilings were high enough that even as a meta, I’d have had to put some effort into jumping to touch them.

  The sun had finally come out from behind the clouds and was lighting the room beautifully; it wasn’t long until sundown, however, and I had a few things to accomplish before then. I went to the fridge, a new, beautiful stainless-steel model, and opened it. A few party trays were sitting on the shelves, with twelve-packs of cola. Along with my new quarters, I had access to a pool of assistants who could run my errands for me, paid for by the Directorate. I had sent one of the gophers to a local catering company to pick up some hors d’oeuvres earlier—finger sandwiches, miniature pastries, and a few other things for what I had planned for this evening. I pulled the trays out and set them on the table in the dining area.

  I opened one of the cartons of cocktail wieners, smelled the rich, sweet barbecue and smiled. I pulled the toothpicks out of the cabinet and speared one through the middle, taking a bite. The fat had settled into the sauce, and it was delicious, a sweet tangy flavor almost melting on my tongue. I poured them into a porcelain bowl and stuck them into the microwave per the directions taped to the top of the dish. While they were warming, I pulled an ice bucket from below the sink and filled it from the freezer. When I was done, I grabbed the soft drinks and started burying them in the ice.

  I heard a knock at the door and froze, my eyes turning toward the clock on the microwave. Fifteen minutes early; I smiled and walked to the door.

  When I opened it, Zack was standing outside, a bottle of wine in his hands. I looked at it and gave him a smile. “It’s illegal for anyone under the age of twenty-one to partake in that, you know.”

  “I’m here to make sure you kids don’t get out of control,” he said. “This is for later, for the two of us.” He glanced at the label. “Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon.”

  “Ah,” I said with a nod, letting my smile thin my lips. “I’ll pass, but you can have as much as you want.”

  “None?” He asked with mocking grace, holding the bottle up by the neck. “You can’t think of anything we should celebrate? Like, for example, your first successful mission as team leader of the new second rank of M-Squad?”

  “Ah, yes, my role as the venerated leader of the B-team,” I said with a forced smile. “I’m glad the mission went well, but we should probably save the celebrating for something big, not the forced abduction of a third-rate jackass.”

  “You really don’t want to celebrate?” His face fell a degree, and I watched the bottle lower a little.

  “I do,” I said, and beckoned him in, giving him a very brief kiss on the lips. “But you know I’m not that keen on alcohol at this point...for obvious reasons,” I watched his face contort slightly as I said this; it soured and he forced a smile, “so as long as you’re all right with me toasting with a cola, I’m okay with it.”

  “I’m all right with you toasting without alcohol,” he said as he brushed past me. I felt his hand run along the line of my belly, a soft caress as I leaned against the wall to let him enter my quarters. “Looks like you’re really taking movie night seriously,” he said as he cleared the wall and turned his attention to the food already on the table.

  “I just want everyone to have fun,” I said as I closed the door. “Help me get the last of the stuff out?”

  “Sure.”

  With Zack’s help everything was ready long before the next knock at the door—Reed, at a minute to five, and then Scott and Kat at five after.

  “Reed, we need to get you a girl,” Kat said with a frown as we all stood around the living room.

  “You don’t like me hanging around like a fifth wheel?” He asked as he scooped ice into a red plastic cup and poured cola over it—or pop, as they called it in Minnesota. Having learned everything in my life from television, I was still adjusting to that one.

  “I just figure you’d be more comfortable with a girl of your own,” she said, prompting Scott to nod his head in agreement. “You know, maybe help you feel less awkward when we hang out.”

  “Awkward? I’m just trying to be respectful of my sister’s feelings,” he said. “I figure having one more couple hanging around being overly handsy would probably just be salt on the wound.” He turned his back on Kat and Scott, hiding a grin from the blond girl as she froze, Scott’s hand planted on her hip, her back pressed to his chest. They looked like they were glued together most of the time. I couldn’t deny that, but I never resented them for their ability to demonstrate affection.

  Kat broke from Scott self-consciously, causing Scott’s brow to pucker in a frown. He held himself awkwardly without her pressed against him, as though someone had yanked a blanket off him. She stood a foot away, shuffling back and forth on her feet with a forced smile planted on her lips. “What’s that all about?” Scott asked. “Just because Sienna and Zack can’t touch doesn’t mean we can’t.”

  “It’s fine,” I said with stifled amusement. “Really. We’re okay, honest. It doesn’t bother me if you guys are all lovey-dovey around us; I doubt I’d be that way even without my...” I let my eyes drift to Zack, who looked away, “...condition.”

  “See?” Scott leaned forward and his hand landed back on Kat’s hip. She reddened, but made no move to displace it. “Sienna’s a good sport about it.” He pulled her tight to him again. Kat, for her part, held her body at an angle from his, as though she were trying to touch as little of him as she could get away with.

  “If you two do get too frisky, though,” I said, stirring the cocktail wieners in their bowl, “I will turn loose the firehose on you.”

  “Try it,” Scott said. “I bet the water ends up going somewhere unexpected—like the front of your boyfriend’s pants.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Reed said. “I have a feeling the wind might catch it and turn your girlfriend into a wet t-shirt contest winner.” I heard a snicker from Zack and saw Scott’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter as Kat remained posed awkwardly.

  “Have you guys ever combined your powers to make, like, a water twister?” Zack looked from Scott to Reed, and I watched the silent conversation between the two of them as they both gave it a moment of thought.

  “That’s kind of a cool idea,” Scott said, and separated himself from Kat
with all the effort of turning loose a feline held against its will . “Should we?”

  “Not in here,” I said, replacing the lid on the dish and putting the spoon in its rest, splattering barbecue sauce on my tablecloth. “I need a metahuman power experiment in my quarters like I need Ariadne to dock my pay for a major remodel.”

  “Outside?” Scott suggested.

  “Let’s do it.”

  The two of them went through the French doors to the balcony, Zack a few steps behind them. Kat remained behind on the sofa, her face pressed into her hands. There was a light chill as the doors opened and shut, a gust of wind as they went out and Reed held the door for Zack. When Zack shut it behind him he gave me a little wave through the glass. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me through the tinted pane, I waved back.

  “Things seem to be going smoothly again between you two,” Kat said. I noted a wet handprint on the side of her white jeans and my hand came up to indicate it with a point. “Hm?” She looked down. “Oh, yeah. When Scott gets excited, sometimes he gets a little, uh...out of control with his power, doesn’t realize he’s using it.” She flushed and looked out the French doors to the balcony, where Reed and Scott stood side by side, Zack a few feet away at the edge of the terrace.

  “Yeah, Zack and I are doing better,” I said. “It’s easier now, somehow, since we broke up and got back together, I guess.” I grabbed a mini sub sandwich that had been sliced into one-inch segments, and took a bite. Roast beef, turkey, ham, lettuce, tomato, mayo and mustard combined in my mouth with oil and vinegar. “Seems like that cut some of the tension out of the relationship, the inflated expectation because we’ll never be able to, uh...well,” I hemmed, “you know.”

  Kat’s eyebrows rose. “Have sex?”