by Sophie Davis
Penny’s eyes bugged out of her face. Okay, well, at least she understood she needed to be quiet. Hopefully.
“Of course I am. But I thought we agreed to meet tonight, at the fountain,” I sent back, improvising.
“And we will. I just had to see you.”
The closer I looked, the more differences I saw between Talia and the doppelgänger. Physically they were identical. But this girl lacked my girlfriend’s stubborn confidence and steadfast conviction. The way she moved was more inline with a run-of-the-mill athlete than a trained stealthy assassin. She was aware of her surroundings, but only because she cared how people viewed her, not because she was accustom to looking over her shoulder at all times. This girl was a cheap imitation, a cubic zirconia made in Talia’s unbreakable, sparkling diamond image. Whoever made the doppelgänger had clearly not understood that Talia was one-of-a-kind.
“Midnight. The Queen Jane fountain. I’ll see you there,” I sent back, and then broke the connection before my urge to kill the imposter grew any stronger.
The Privileged
Besançon, France
One Day Before the Vote
As it turned out, Daphne was indeed a master at clogging toilets. She somehow caused all four in the bathroom she shared with Ritchie and Dina to overflow simultaneously. Unfortunately, her efforts were for naught. Shyla Towers did not show up for shower time that evening, nor was she at breakfast the next morning in the commons. It wasn’t until Madame Brink appeared with the 2P boys to start the day’s lessons that Shyla finally materialized.
Overnight, the comfy couches and chairs had all been moved to storage and replaced with desks. The shelves of board games and approved reading material were gone, too.
“We will continue having lessons in the commons until further notice,” Madame Brink announced, taking her spot at the front of the room.
Cressa, Daphne, Ritchie, and Nydia were already seated in the back row of desks, where they’d eaten breakfast. Nydia was still giving Cressa the cold shoulder, though her icy resolve was beginning to show cracks.
Shyla shuffled to an empty desk in the back row, on the opposite side of the room from where Cressa sat with her friends. Gaze downcast, she refused to meet her classmates’ curious stares, and pointedly ignored the other girls’ taunts about Lyla.
“No talking,” Madame Brink scolded the class. “Boys, hurry and take your seats. The Dame is scheduled to address the school shortly, and you do not want to miss the treat she has in store for you all.”
Cressa’s heart sank. At the Institute, the word ‘treat’ was always followed by something that made Cressa sick to her stomach.
“Ugh, what now?” Daphne whined. The events of the last few days were clearly taking a toll on the little canary. Her once bubbly, albeit somewhat annoying, nature was a thing of the past. Instead, Daphne was fidgety and pale. Like Cressa, she just seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Over here, Kev. I saved you a seat,” Dina called. The boys were filing in to take their seats, and Ritchie’s roommate gestured to the vacant desk beside her in the front of the room.
Kev didn’t acknowledge Dina. Instead, he continued towards the only empty desk in the back row—the one on Cressa’s right. Offering her a small smile, he slid into the chair. Despite her new concerns about Kev, Cressa blushed and ducked her head, ignoring Dina’s scowling face.
Would a mole for the Dame really reveal so much? Cressa wondered. Her gaze darted to where he sat. For some reason—and she prayed it wasn’t just because of the inner fangirl Cressa was keeping under wraps—she felt like she could trust him.
“Hey, Kev,” Ritchie called from Cressa’s other side.
Kev’s gaze flitted towards Ritchie, but showed no signs of recognition.
“Hi,” he mumbled, then went back to staring at his desk.
Madame Brink cleared her throat to get the attention of everyone in the room, effectively ending Ritchie’s efforts.
“As you all know, the treaty vote is nearly upon us,” she told the class. “The Dame is pleased with the progress you have all made, but she does worry that our ranks are too small to ensure an easy victory.”
This announcement was met with boos from the crowd.
“Not to worry, not to worry,” Madame Brink continued. “It seems the heavens have smiled upon us.” The instructor clapped her hands together jubilantly, her ear-to-ear grin more scary than reassuring. “A team of highly skilled individuals has come to aid our cause. They are naturally gifted Talented, trained in combat.”
Quiet murmuring broke out, spreading through the common room like wildfire. The cadets’ reactions were mixed, with some regarding this as excellent news and others seeming upset.
Talented were both potential enemies and possible allies. They were the only ones capable of hindering the Dame’s rise to power. And yet, if the Talented joined with the Privileged, their combined forces would be unstoppable.
The only question was—which side would the Talented choose?
“I’ve never met a natural-born Talent,” Cressa heard one 2P boy whisper to another, his voice full of awe and admiration. “I wonder if they are UNITED defectors. Oh, or maybe they are ex-TOXIC? Yeah, they’re probably ex-TOXIC if they have come to help us.”
“We don’t need their help,” his friend snapped. “They are Talented, not Privileged. They only have one ability, two at the most. And they haven’t been found worthy, like us. The Dame didn’t choose them, so they will never truly be Privileged. At most, they will be one step above the norms, and ten steps below us.”
Tuning out the boys’ conversation, Cressa focused on Madame Brink instead. The instructor was once again calling for quiet.
“Each of these individuals has already been tested and deemed worthy of source status. Their track records with Talented organizations prove that they are all capable of fieldwork. All that remains is for them to declare their allegiance to the Dame, then they can be activated immediately.”
Beside her, Kev Leon squirmed in his seat. Cressa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. The celebrity’s complexion had gone stark white. His bottom lip trembled, and his clasped hands shook in his lap.
Is this more playacting? Cressa wondered. If so, Kev was outdoing even his most critically acclaimed performances.
Cressa knew Kev was a whole lot more lucid than he was letting on, but couldn’t decide whether the vid star was truly scared. Once again, she had the feeling that Kev Leon knew more about the inner workings of the Institute than any 2P cadet should have.
“How exciting, an allegiance ceremony!” Daphne exclaimed, surprising Cressa. It was the first time since the observation catacombs that Daphne had expressed interest in anything relating to becoming Privileged. “Gracia told me about them,” the little canary continued. “It’s what happens after an 8P passes her or his final exam. You swear to faithfully serve and protect the Dame and her cause, blah, blah, blah. Then, you officially become Privileged.”
By the looks on her classmates’ faces, Cressa realized that most of them had also heard about these ceremonies. They all seemed exceedingly eager to witness one firsthand. Even Ritchie and Nydia were excited for this ‘treat.’
At the front of the room, Madame Brink moved to stand against the wall.
Countless holographic images—over a dozen, by Cressa’s estimation—suddenly appeared in the open space, lined up in two straight rows. They wore black military-style uniforms, but there was no insignia to show who they served. Upon closer inspection, Cressa saw that two patches of fabric had been torn away from each uniform, one on the chest and one on the arm. Each figure wore a bag over his or her face, and their hands were tied behind their backs.
“Welcome!” the Dame’s voice boomed throughout the room.
Several of the holographic figures flinched, making it obvious that they could also hear the Dame speaking.
“Today, you all have the honor of witnessing an allegiance ceremony. I
t is the final step before officially becoming Privileged, and a rite of passage that each of you cadets will take part in, in the not too distant future,” the Dame continued.
Cressa relaxed, though was unable to muster the same level of enthusiasm as her classmates. When she’d imagined this moment, the one where she ascended to the highest honor the Institute had to offer, there hadn’t been restraints or bags involved; that stuff seemed like overkill on the cloak-and-dagger front.
Either that, or these highly trained Talented soldiers weren’t exactly there of their own volition.
Sir Tate and Suzu Mitsu appeared as holograms behind the first figure in line, farthest to Cressa’s left. Kev Leon began to gulp audibly. Though Madame Brink hadn’t yet noticed his odd behavior, other 2Ps were starting to look at him nervously. Like Cressa, they were probably wondering if he were going to have a seizure.
Even though she knew better, Cressa scooted her desk slightly closer to Kev’s, and then took his shaking hands between hers.
“Are you okay?” she asked gently. When he didn’t immediately answer, Cressa took a decisive breath, then plunged in. “What do you know? Is something terrible about to happen?”
Jerking his head back and forth violently, Kev moaned. From the front of the room, Madame Brink shushed him with a single harsh glance. Cressa remained by Kev’s side, determined to not let this opportunity pass. With everyone’s attention directed towards the holograms, Kev might answer some of her questions.
Once Madame Brink looked away from them again, Kev met Cressa’s gaze.
“Just watch and listen,” he muttered. “We’ll talk afterwards.”
It wasn’t exactly an answer, but she’d take it for the time being. Cressa shifted her gaze to the front of the room.
“Wilhelm Studdard, do you pledge fidelity and allegiance to our cause?” the Dame was saying. “Do you promise to serve me, the Dame, until your final breath? With undying loyalty and absolute conviction?”
Sir Tate had removed the first man’s hood to reveal a pale, swollen face that was barely recognizable as human. Wilhelm didn’t answer right away. The Dame repeated her list of demands. When Wilhelm still didn’t respond, Suzu closed her eyes and scrunched her face in a look of concentration.
Wilhelm began to scream.
Kev Leon began to cry, effectively drawing Cressa’s attention back to him.
Without thinking, she moved her chair over again, and then folded Kev into a hug. As he rested his head on her shoulder, Cressa stroked his silky hair. The boy clung to her as though his life depended on it.
“It’s too awful,” Kev sobbed loudly. She tried to quiet him, but Kev was drawing the attention of those around them.
Which, Cressa realized belatedly, had been his goal. Whatever game Kev was playing, he definitely wanted people to think he was losing his marbles.
To what end? Cressa wondered.
People with adjustment issues were sent to therapy and put on medication. Was that Kev’s goal? Why would he want that?
Yeah, we are definitely going to chat later, Cressa thought, still soothing Kev.
Enthralled with the virtual ceremony, Madame Brink didn’t avert her eyes to shush Kev. Unfortunate, since Cressa was fairly certain that his performance was mostly for her benefit.
At the front of the room, Wilhelm sank to his knees and doubled over in pain. The Dame’s steadfastly pleasant voice repeated her questions for a third time, to no avail. Six times in total, the Dame asked Wilhelm to pledge allegiance to her. Finally, blood trickling from one ear, Wilhelm relented.
“Yes. Okay. Yes. I’ll do it. Just make it stop,” he whimpered.
Mouth agape, Cressa watched as Wilhelm was hauled to his feet. He repeated the Dame’s words, misery seeping from him like the blood. Then, two men appeared and led Wilhelm away.
Kev continued to cry. Absently, Cressa muttered soothing words that she didn’t believe. They were more for her benefit than Kev’s, since the celebrity had clearly known from the beginning what she was just realizing: the Dame wasn’t honoring the cadets by showing them this barbaric allegiance ceremony. She was reminding them that their fates were already sealed. There was no turning back, no option to return to being a norm.
It was the stunt with Lyla and the others all over again.
Once a person entered the Institute, as a cadet or otherwise, he or she became a cog in the Dame’s wheel of domination. Everyone had a part to play. They could either do so willingly, or by force.
What had she gotten herself into? The Dame’s allegiance ceremony—really only a demonstration of Suzu’s ability to create duress—was crazy. Crazier than the frog pond, the source stables, and watching Gracia become a clone put together.
Unable to look away, despite a deep desire to do so, Cressa watched as Sir Tate and Suzu moved on to the second person in the front line. When the bag over his head was removed, Cressa saw it was another male. He was much older than Wilhelm, closer to middle-aged. His name was Burt Ryan, and he didn’t need convincing. The words were barely out of the Dame’s mouth before Burt repeated them back verbatim.
And on it went. When they’d finished with the first row of soldiers, the second was shoved forward. Some of the hooded figures needed more persuasion than others, though none lasted as long as Wilhelm under Suzu’s mental torture.
And I thought she was one of the nice ones, Cressa thought, disgusted.
Suzu had been so patient with Damon, so kind. But that soft-spoken girl was gone. Suzu was cold and unrelenting as she invaded one mind after the next. Somehow, knowing that Suzu wasn’t a natural sadist made it that much worse for Cressa. Would she herself eventually commit unspeakable acts, perform torture, or kill another person, simply because the Dame commanded it?
No, of course not, Cressa told herself. Blind obedience only went so far.
Suzu probably thought the same thing, until she was given a choice between herself and another, a voice whispered inside Cressa’s head.
She shook it off. Even in that situation, Cressa knew she’d never agree to harm another human being—norm, Talented, Created, or otherwise.
The third to last person to undergo the allegiance pledge also happened to be the first woman. She was younger than most of her male counterparts. Instantly, as soon as the hood was removed, Cressa somehow knew that the woman’s will was much, much stronger than the others’.
“Unbreakable,” Kev whispered in Cressa’s ear.
Several others in the room started whispering about the woman on stage. Everyone seemed to understand that there was something different about her, something both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
Even Sir Tate was not immune to the vibes radiating from the woman. When he looked into her beady black eyes, so full of hatred that Cressa recoiled, Sir Tate flinched and dropped the hood he’d just removed.
The woman’s short, inky black hair stuck out in every direction. Her face wasn’t too badly damaged, minus the split lip. She showed no trace of fear or pain. If anything, she looked pissed, like being kidnapped, tied up, and forced to swear fealty to a voice was majorly inconveniencing her busy schedule.
Cressa liked the woman immediately. She reminded Cressa of Natalia Lyons, or at least the way she perceived the young assassin. The expression of complete and utter disdain on the woman’s face was exactly how Cressa pictured Natalia looking in the same situation.
Licking away a drop of blood with her tongue, the woman grinned over her shoulder at Sir Tate.
“Wouldn’t want any to go to waste, would we?” she asked coldly.
The temperature in the common room dropped several degrees.
“Too strong,” Kev muttered, his head still on Cressa’s shoulder. “It’ll get her killed.”
Cressa shivered. Strength was usually a positive attribute, one the Dame praised in her cadets. But she understood what Kev meant. This woman wasn’t just strong talent-wise. She had more backbone than a stegosaurus, and less sense than a coin-to-globe con
verter on emptying day. It was obvious she valued her ideals above her own life.
And for that, Cressa admired her more than she could ever express. The defiant woman had just become one of Cressa’s greatest idols, possibly tying for the top spot with Natalia Lyons.
“Cadence Choi,” the Dame began. For the first time, her tone was no longer pleasant.
“Save it, you psychotic bitch,” Cadence spat back. “I will never serve you.”
Suzu made her determined face again. Cressa sucked in a breath, anticipating the howling cries that were inevitable.
But Cadence Choi didn’t even grimace. In fact, she laughed. Not just a wry chuckle, but loud, cackling laughter that rang in Cressa’s ears. There was no mirth in that laughter, only shards of ice that cut Cressa to the bone.
“I know who you are!” Cadence shouted.
Suzu tried again. Still, nothing.
“You forget—” Cadence started to say. The reception went fuzzy in that moment, and part of her sentence was cut off. “—she is the best there is, you should know that. If I can keep her out, you’d better believe I can keep this poor imitation out.”
The same two guards who’d taken Wilhelm and the others appeared. Cressa held her breath, knowing she should look away but unable to do so. They were going to kill Cadence Choi. Cressa knew that with absolute certainty.
Kev knew it, too, it seemed. He covered his ears and sobbed harder.
Eyes glued to the front of the room, Cressa watched as one of the guards raised a gun and pointed it directly between Cadence’s eyes. Cadence’s grin stretched from ear to ear. The guard pulled the trigger.
He was too slow. Or maybe Cadence was just that fast.
Either way, by the time the bullet left the gun barrel, Cadence Choi had vanished from sight. The loud, cackling laughter echoed in her wake.
Talia
London, England
One Day Before the Vote
The wait was agonizing. Watching Erik give his speech did little to abate my overwhelming desire to see him—the real flesh and bone him.
