But Zack didn’t seem convinced. “You don’t have any feelings for him now?”
I was confused, trying to keep up with what was happening inside his head. “Where is this coming from? Why does this even matter, he’s missing . . .”
Zack’s voice cracked a little, as he tried not to get too upset. “And you think it’s a coincidence that your mother knew to pick him? That he’s the one she knew you couldn’t handle losing?” Jude and not Zack, that was what he meant. Why he’d chosen now to get his panties in a knot about it, I had no idea.
But I was determined to calm him down. “I don’t know why she picked him. Maybe she didn’t pick anyone, maybe Ciaran just grabbed the first one of us he found.” My words were doing nothing to change the hurt and angry expression on Zack’s face. “Look, it doesn’t matter, I want to help.” Frustrated, I pushed past him. If Zack wasn’t taking my side, maybe someone else would.
But as I entered the boardroom, I saw the same suspicious looks from everyone inside. “It’s not a good time right now,” Layla stammered, and I saw she was comforting a sobbing Irene.
I had a sick feeling in my stomach. “Where’s Dawn?” I asked, nervous.
The room went silent, hesitant. “We sent her in as a hostage negotiator,” Layla said gravely. “It didn’t go well.”
I felt lost, adrift. I didn’t know what we would do without Dawn. “Didn’t . . . is she . . . ?”
“Alive,” Dr. Marko said quickly. “As far as we can tell, she’s being held captive, with Jude.”
“So now we have to find another way to get them out,” Zack said, tone still terse. I uncomfortably felt all eyes monitoring me.
I shook my head. “You think Ciaran’s going to be a rational negotiator? Or my mother? I could have told you that, if you’d thought to ask me. I know them better than anyone, I should be in here, I should be helping . . .”
“We don’t need your help,” Layla said firmly. I looked to the others for support, but got none. It was like they were all ganging up on me, for no apparent reason.
“Just trust us, Grace,” Zack urged me.
I turned on him, angry. “Why would I trust you, when you don’t trust me?”
“Because you’re the mole!” Zack shouted.
“Zack . . .” Irene warned, as the whole room tensed.
“I’m not the mole!” I said, deeply offended. But as I looked around the room, my stomach curdled as I realized Zack wasn’t the only one who thought so. “You all think I’m sending information back to my mother, don’t you?”
Everyone looked at one another. With Dawn gone, there seemed to be confusion over who was in charge, who to take orders from. Finally, Dr. Marko cleared his throat. “Well, you might be.”
I was filled with confusion and indignation. Sweet Dr. Marko was the last person I’d expected to lead the charge against me. “I’m innocent,” I repeated. “You know me. I swear to you, I’m not betraying our cause, I would never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t,” Marko said gently. “But Zack’s right. You’re still the mole.”
I looked at the others, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother’s visit here had a purpose. At first we thought she was trying to recruit you. But eventually we realized, she didn’t need to. Esther doesn’t need your permission to see what you see, to hear what you hear, to know what you know.”
The horror of it engulfed me, as I suddenly realized the truth. “She put something in my head again.” I remembered the flash drive she’d given me, to put in the computer. Its purpose hadn’t been to show me some stupid Excel documents . . . she’d wanted me to touch it, to infect myself with whatever microscopic technology had covered the surface of the drive. We hadn’t needed to worry about a computer virus. We needed to worry about one that would infect my head.
Everyone’s nervous glances in my direction suddenly made sense. I hated myself for not seeing it earlier, for not expecting something like this from my mother after everything else she’d done.
“A transmitter,” Marko explained. “She knows all your thoughts.”
“All of them,” Zack said pointedly, and the way he said it I realized . . . my friends must have gotten access to them somehow. That was why he’d confronted me like that in the hallway. Everything I’d been feeling for Jude, all my doubts about Zack . . .
My voice cracked. “And so do all of you now.”
Layla jumped in. “Please don’t ask us too many questions. Everything you’re thinking right now is still being sent back to your mother.”
I nodded, as new waves of revulsion crashed over me moment by moment, remembering a million thoughts I never would have wanted Layla to hear, or Zack, or Jude. That was how Ciaran had found us in the crowd . . . my mother had seen through my eyes to pinpoint everyone’s locations. That was why he’d taken Jude, because she knew the depth of my feelings for him, that I’d do anything to save him.
I hazarded a glance at Zack, and my heart broke to see his expression. Deep shame, and anger, to know every terrible thing I’d thought about him. Every not so terrible thing I’d thought about another man. I remembered back in the Amazon, how badly I’d wanted to see through his eyes, to know what he thought of me. But maybe I was the lucky one. Zack had gotten a glimpse, and it had nearly broken him.
“Just get Jude back,” I told them. “I’ll stay out of it.”
I fled the boardroom in deep despair. I wondered if my mother could see the humiliation, the burning anger inside of me. The same way she’d seen all my deepest, most embarrassing desires, even watched me have sex. But I knew then, as certain as if I was reading her thoughts—she wasn’t going to stop unless I stopped her myself. And with no way to make a plan that would surprise her, and friends who couldn’t let me help, it seemed like we were doomed to fail.
9
While my friends were working on a plan I wasn’t allowed to know about, I wallowed in my frustration. I wanted so badly to help and hated that I couldn’t. I was more aware than ever of my idle fantasies about Jude, the wistful, yearning feelings that overtook me when his face crossed my mind . . . knowing all too well that everyone I cared about would see them, too. Would know all the secret desires I harbored about a man who might not survive the night.
I tried to ignore the slamming doors and heated voices downstairs by distracting myself the way I always did: by seeing what people were saying about me online. But after these most recent attacks, praise was hard to find amid the heaps of criticism. I was failing to protect my followers, and faith in me was waning. Even my old friend Eduardo Sousa was expressing skepticism: maybe I was just some kid, full of hot air and broken promises. What hurt most was knowing how right they all were. I closed the laptop, trying to put this despair out of my mind . . . I didn’t need my mother to know how worried I was.
I wondered what Esther wanted with my thoughts. If all she wanted to do was invade our city, she could have done it easily. Knowing I couldn’t use the nuclear weapons in my possession should have cleared the way for her to send an army to invade ages ago. But she wanted something else . . . she wanted my power. If she killed me outright, she’d make me a martyr. She either had to convince me to join her, or she had to wholly discredit my entire invented religion. So far, she was quite efficiently doing the latter.
I hoped my friends would find some solution, some way to salvage this situation. But as the sun rose, and then neared the horizon again, I could hear just enough sighs and morose tones to infer that whatever they were planning wasn’t going well.
Finally, a knock at my door brought a broken-looking Layla. “We need your help.”
“How?” I asked feebly. “You convinced me I couldn’t.”
“The others think you cannot, but . . . we are losing,” she said, in a grieving half whisper.
My heart raced. “Is Jude . . .”
“Alive,” she reassured me. “But . . . Dr. Marko.”
She coul
dn’t say it, so I tried to say it for her. “Something happened.”
She nodded. “He tried to sneak in, rescue them, but . . .”
“They took him?”
She shook her head. “Injured him badly. He is in the hospital, critical condition.”
The devastation tore through me. My friends were dropping like flies. This was all part of my mother’s sick game to get to me. “I’ll figure something out,” I said with more confidence than I felt.
She nodded. “You will. Because you love him, too.” I was filled with a deep shame; she knew every one of my most mortifying thoughts. The ones about her, the ones about her boyfriend. But she still looked at me with friendship, with forgiveness. And with hope, that the love I’d worked so hard to hide would save the man she loved, too.
“I’m sorry,” I told her anyway.
She shook her head. “It was not a secret that you still love Jude. At least not to me.”
“Oh,” I said, embarrassed.
“But you cared for my father. You grieved for him. That I did not know.” She teared up as she spoke, and I hugged her.
“No one else dies,” I promised her.
We’re done playing games, I thought to myself, knowing exactly who would hear my words. I’m going to make you pay for this.
10
“Where are you going?” Zack asked as I opened the front door.
“I’m going to get Jude and Dawn back,” I told him, voice full of a furious determination.
“How?” His voice sounded as skeptical as I felt.
I tried to project some kind of confidence. “I don’t know yet. If I did, Esther would know, too.”
I could see the hopelessness growing behind his eyes. “If you really think you can stop her, do what you have to,” he said, resigned.
I nodded, surprised but relieved that he wasn’t trying to boss me around for once. But I knew perfectly well, his despair and futility were probably the only reasons he was willing to entertain my absurd lack of plan. Layla and Irene solemnly joined Zack to watch me leave, faces just a tiny bit optimistic. I was terrified I was about to let everyone down.
As I emerged from the building, onlookers gawked as I headed out of the city. But I ignored them, focused on retaliation, planning my next move as best I could without actually settling on which words I’d say next. All I knew was, my mother had spent the past year invading my thoughts and stripping away my agency, bit by bit. Whatever shred of power I had left, I was going to use every ounce of it to strike back and make sure my friends came home safe.
When I arrived outside the military base, the soldiers greeted me with wary salutes, surprised by my unexpected presence. “I need to see General Feliciano,” I told them. They glanced at one another, their looks filling my stomach with dread. This wasn’t going to go well.
It took ten minutes for the general to emerge—an eon, compared to the speed with which she normally greeted me. When she finally appeared, her smile was thin and forced. “Hello, Grace.”
The absence of the word prophet from her lips unnerved me. “Hey,” I said. “Is everything okay?”
“You tell me,” she said tersely. “Do you think everything looks okay out there?”
“All part of Great Spirit’s plan,” I said, trying to spin as best I could.
But she remained cold, and her voice sounded final. “I eagerly await your coming miracle.”
“Great Spirit will not disappoint,” I promised, though I was sure that promise would be broken.
I’d finally lost the support of our military. And, since my mother was listening to every word of this, my enemies already knew. I was defenseless.
As the general stepped away, I turned to two nearby soldiers, tone clipped. “I’m going outside.” Both clearly wanted to advise me against it, but they were still too timid to question the word of a prophet, even a disgraced one. So they dutifully followed me onto the beach to greet the setting sun.
The camp was nothing like I’d last left it. The pilgrims had thinned out—this latest attack had finally confirmed suspicions: it was no longer safe to be a supporter of Grace Luther. The few hundred devotees who remained were hollow-eyed, more desperate-looking than ever. As they heard the gates creak, their bodies turned toward me as though I was a prayer answered. “Can you get me a microphone?” I asked a soldier, and he immediately left to oblige.
A few pilgrims flocked to my feet, keeping a reverent distance. “We are still faithful,” one said in a hoarse whisper, proud to be one of the last remaining at my side. “When will we be rewarded?”
I waited until I had the microphone to answer him. “You are my most loyal followers. I thank you.” The crowd murmured with delight. Finally, their devotion had been noticed. “And that’s why I have one more request for you. First, I want you to turn off all recording devices. All of them.” I saw a few people reluctantly lower their phones. Though I knew my mother already knew every word I was speaking, I still didn’t want the rest of the world to hear what I was about to say next.
“Out there are monsters, agents of the devil, who are holding two of my friends hostage. I know I’ve asked you to be patient, to be kind, to be peaceful. But right now, I need to ask you to put all that aside and fight our enemies. They’re endangering our cause. These men are unredeemable, and they must be stopped.” I gestured to the flyer that the general had distributed around the camp. Anger burned steadily in my heart, fueling me as I nearly shouted into the microphone, “You already have their pictures. Find out where they’re hiding and destroy them, by any means necessary. We tried pacifism . . . now we need to try something else. But save the two hostages—they’re more vital to our mission than you know.”
Bile rose in my throat; I was sickened by my own declaration, and I could tell I wasn’t alone; pilgrims and soldiers alike exchanged skeptical looks. This was far different rhetoric than they’d come to expect from me. It was the kind of fire and brimstone I’d made it my brand to preach against. Could this really be the Prophet Grace who’d once inspired them, the one who’d been so different from the other prophets, who was now advocating such darkness?
Some members of the crowd booed and left in disgust. More support dwindling. But a few stayed and nodded. The hunger in their eyes lighting a fire, tapping into an anger already burning within them. Ready to fight, to kill, for someone who would give them an excuse.
I’d created my own little militia, just like the one Prophet Joshua had once wielded, the secret army I’d been a part of. I knew just how powerful that spy network could be. I had to hope that unlike his, mine wouldn’t lead to my downfall.
11
This time, I didn’t retreat into some military stronghold. If my mother had wanted to kill me, she’d had every opportunity, known every step I was taking. I wanted to be out waiting where I knew everyone could find me, so I could hear the moment there was news and direct Jude’s rescue mission. My vulnerability felt like a taunt to Esther—and after everything she’d done, I wanted to cause her as much anguish as possible.
As those few gaunt pilgrims eagerly trotted out into the night, competing to be the first to do my bidding, a wave of guilt washed over me, the kind that might have felled me when the nanotech was still in my brain. I was sending these innocents directly into harm’s way, for my own gain. I was abusing their trust, worse than I ever had before, hurting the very people I should have been trying to protect. I knew the monstrosity of my actions, but the rage that boiled inside of me had completely taken over. I had to strike back at Ciaran and Esther with the only weapon I had left. Even if using that weapon was unforgivable.
The sun began to set behind the hills covered in shantytowns, but I kept up my confident façade, preaching the word of Great Spirit to the smattering of pilgrims who still lingered at my side, grappling with newfound doubts. “Why is this mission so important to Great Spirit?” they were curious to know. “When is it okay to use violence, and when is it wrong? How will we know, if you
aren’t around to tell us?”
“I’ll be here,” I said carefully, worried about condoning any more violence. “That’s why we have prophets. If violence hasn’t been called for, it’s wrong.” I saw their nods, their pretending to understand. And though I knew only a small number of people had heard my violent proclamation, I still worried what dark force I might be unleashing, what effects my words might lead to once this mission was complete.
As the reddish sunset light crossed the faces of the soldiers at my side, I saw they were wary. These fighters had been initially converted by my message of peace, by my condemnation of the prophets’ hypocritical use of violence. Now I was advocating for those same horrors. Their uneasy looks reminded me of Prophet Joshua’s guards, of that moment when his own army had stepped aside and let the crowd slaughter him. Not just the general, but her troops, the most valuable asset I had, were losing faith in me.
“Catch me up, what are we preaching now?” a voice said softly behind me, and I turned to see Macy.
“What are you doing here?” I asked her.
“Thought I’d show the general that there are still people who believe in you. Though I wish you’d told me we were going Old Testament again.” I saw the same doubt and derision on her face as I’d seen growing among the pilgrims.
“You’re here to tell me I’m making a mistake, aren’t you? That if Dawn were here, she’d say it wasn’t worth it to blow everything we have left, just to save two people? Even if one of them is her?”
Macy gave me a grim smile. “I didn’t come here to tell you anything, but it sounds like you have some things to tell yourself?”
I found all my fears tumbling out of me. “We were barely keeping our heads above water before. Now I’m destroying the message that made me a prophet in the first place. Dismantling every piece of power I built for myself. Which is exactly what my mother wanted me to do in the first place.”
Macy shook her head, overwhelmed. “I have no idea. All these tactical plan things are new to me.”
Ruthless Page 17
