“All right, but there is something you don’t know. Edward has been looking into the source of the funding behind the Human Preservation Front, the people who wanted to destroy all replicas. Half-an-hour ago, he succeeded in tracing the origin of the money to an account that’s controlled by Davos.”
I can’t conceal my bewilderment. “I don’t understand. Davos wanted to acquire the Institute just to destroy it? Or is it that he wanted to destroy it because he couldn’t acquire it?”
I never feel safer than I do when I’m in Ian’s arms but as he fits the pieces of information together and comes to his own conclusions, the look in his eyes hints at a completely different side of his nature, one that I feel fortunate not to encounter before and can only be grateful now that it’s directed at another.
“If either was the case,” he says grimly, “the HPF would just have planted explosives and gotten out before detonating them. Instead, they tried to hack past the firewalls protecting the customization tech. Unknown to them, there was a failsafe device. They tripped it, blowing themselves up along with everyone else.”
Slowly, I ask, “But why would Davos fund an anti-replica terrorist group if what he really wanted was replica tech?”
Ian shrugs. “My guess is as a smokescreen to conceal his true objective. It became clear during interrogations that the HPF leadership didn’t know the ultimate source of their funding. They were too glad to get it to question where it was coming from anymore than they questioned the instructions they received to acquire the tech.”
The thought of what a man like Davos could do with the ability to create selectively designed replicas tailored to his own purposes horrifies me. In the propaganda that I read on the link, the HPF ranted about the threat of a replica slave army driving humanity into extinction. I wrote that off as a paranoid fantasy but now I’m not so sure.
As casually as I can, I say, “There’s nothing else he can do now, is there? The tech is gone.”
The pang of loss that I feel takes me by surprise. Almost from the beginning, I’ve understood that however many replicas exist, it’s unlikely that any other has been left free to become her own self. I’m grateful for Susannah’s choice more than I will ever be able to express yet at the same time I feel the burden of my isolation. It’s a weight that I will bear forever.
Ian’s eyes are locked on mine. The savage determination in them sends a tremor through me. I fight to remember him as he was at the beach house, the lover who held me with such tenderness and passion. The man I would trust with anything including my life.
He brushes a fingertip along the curve of my cheek, coming to rest gently on my mouth where I still taste the essence of him. So softly that I hardly hear him, he says, “Our intel indicates that there were only three real targets of the attack at the Crystal Palace. Two were supposed to be killed, the other was to be taken alive. Based on what you’ve just told me, I’m betting that Edward and I were in the first category. Our deaths would have left you effectively unprotected, clearing the way for Davos to acquire the only remaining source of the tech he wants badly enough to kill for--you.”
The thought of the two men I care for deeply, albeit in entirely different ways, being harmed sends a wave of nausea through me. My throat is tight as I say, “I’ve put you and my brother in danger just by existing. But how could Davos have found out what I am?”
“He may not have. He may just suspect. Whatever the case, you’re not at fault in any way. You really have to understand that, Amelia. You bear no responsibility for any of this. Davos has asked for what he’s about to get and I’m more than happy to give it to him.”
For a moment longer, he touches me with such tenderness that I have to blink away tears. Even as I do so, his face hardens again, his manner becoming remote, unreachable. I watch in unwilling fascination as he completes the transformation from the Ian I know and cherish to someone I’ve always sensed within him but have never had to face before. The warrior who Charles Davos has so foolishly awakened, born for battle and capable of acting without a shred of mercy.
Chapter Twenty-one
Ian
“There’s nothing to discuss.” I can’t believe that Amelia thinks there is. We’re back in the penthouse where I brought her as soon as Davos’ sick plan became clear. I have to give the bastard credit, he concealed his interest in replica technology so well that not even Gab unearthed it. If not for the knowledge hidden in Amelia, we still wouldn’t know. I’d be worried that he hated replicas and wanted to harm her for that reason but I wouldn’t have put it together with the attack on the Crystal Palace to realize what he truly intends.
I don’t doubt for a moment that Susannah was right about Davos’ efforts to acquire the most advanced replica technology for his own perverse purposes. She was a highly intelligent woman, meticulous in her approach to everything she did and never inclined to jump to conclusions. But beyond that, my own instincts have been telling me all along that he’s an enemy who needs to be crushed. I should have listened to them the moment he showed the slightest interest in Amelia.
My priorities are starkly clear. I want Davos’ throat in my hands. I want to feel him struggle as all hope drains from him. I want to look into his eyes at the moment that the light in them flickers and dies. A garrote would be faster, a knife or a gun even more so. But given the threat he poses to Amelia, I won’t be satisfied with anything less than the personal touch.
“You can’t just go after him on your own,” she insists. We’re standing in the great room. Hodge is hovering, discretely out of sight but nearby. He’ll take care of her. I’ve already given orders that she isn’t to leave Pinnacle House until I say otherwise. There’s nothing more to keep me from what needs to be done except that Amelia won’t stop talking. Worse yet, she doesn’t sound hysterical or pleading or anything like that. Instead, she’s calm, clear and determined. I can’t help but admire how she stands up to me at the same time that I wouldn’t mind just a little of the submission that she gives to me when I’m deep inside her.
“The Council is already aware of your role in destroying the HPF,” she continues, dragging my thoughts away from the contemplation of her exquisite body arching in ecstasy as I make her come. “They must also at least suspect that you had something to do with what happened at the Crystal Palace,” she goes on relentlessly. “If you add killing one of the most powerful men in the city to that list--”
“Not ‘if’,” I say emphatically. “When.” I’m not about to give any ground on this. If she can’t understand what I’m about to do, she has to at least accept it.
Instead, she says, “You aren’t above the law, Ian, however unjust it is. If you’re seen as posing a threat to the established order, there won’t be any limits to the response against you. What happens then?”
“Look around you, Amelia,” I snarl. “You’re standing on top of a fucking fortress. I command the largest private military force in the country. Hell, in the world.”
I didn’t set out to create that but it happened all the same, yet another example of nature abhorring a vacuum. The willingness of public leaders to take credit for every success while shielding themselves from responsibility for any failure makes the existence of private forces to covertly handle the really tough jobs essential. I don’t like that but I don’t regret it either, especially when it means that I have the resources to protect what is mine.
“I understand that your people are fiercely loyal to you,” Amelia says, “But what happens if you can’t intimidate the Council into letting you do what you want? What if they order the MPS or other forces they could bring in to stop you and fighting breaks out? Here, in a crowded city filled with civilians--men, women, children. Can you honestly say that there won’t be collateral damage, possibly a great deal of it? And what about afterward? Who picks up the pieces and how? You’ve told me yourself that you’ve seen the effects of anarchy first hand. Are you willing to be the cause of it?”
“What are
you suggesting?” I fire back, not concealing my frustration with her stubbornness. “That I should leave Davos to the so-called authorities? Do you think for one moment that they’ll go after him? They won’t lift a finger. For you to be safe, he has to die. There isn’t any other way.”
“So that you carry the burden of that for the rest of your life? You’re a good man, Ian. I’ve seen how what happened to you when you were a boy haunts you. How much worse will this be?”
“Amelia…I’ve killed before. What do you think happened at the Crystal Palace?”
“You were in a battle then, as I’m sure you’ve been all too many times. This is different. Vigilante justice is an oxymoron, there’s no such thing. What you’re talking about is murder.”
“It damn well is not! It’s self-defense, which under any legal definition includes not only protecting myself but also protecting an innocent party who is in danger and can’t defend herself.”
“From imminent danger, Ian. As in no time for the authorities to intervene.”
Oh, my god, she’s sounds like a lawyer. A gorgeous, fierce-eyed upholder of legal ideals that are preserved these days far more in theory than reality. I want to tell her that but she’s put her hands on her hips--the same ones I love to grasp as I fuck her--and she’s glaring at me.
I know that she doesn’t have any real idea of what Davos intends to do to her and I’m not about to enlighten her. To understand the complexities of the tech used to imprint her would require far harsher and more destructive techniques than those employed in even the most rigorous interrogation. He would have to drill down layer by layer through not just her brain but also her mind, shattering her psyche and leaving her catatonic, if not worse.
There’s no power on earth that can compel me to put those thoughts in her head. “We’re not going to agree on this, Amelia. All I’m going to say is that Davos is capable of evil beyond anything you know. I can’t live with the possibility of him ever getting near you, which is why I’m going to stop him once and for all.”
She stares at me for a long moment before a sigh escapes her. Quietly, she says, “I know more than you think I do about the human capacity for evil.” She sounds resigned yet at the same time profoundly sad in a way that I don’t believe any knowledge she received from Susannah could ever make her. This is different, more personal, hinting at what I’ve sensed that she’s withheld from me.
“How can you know?” I ask softly, forgetting Davos for the moment and focusing entirely on her. “You’ve been in the world only a short time. How much can you have perceived?”
“I’m twenty-two years old, Ian, hardly a child.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I have a tendency to forget that you didn’t just arise from the sea like Botticelli’s Venus. You have every right to be angry about what you were denied, even to hate the people who kept you from living for so long.”
Her expression is guarded as she looks up at me. “Why do I have that right? Because I’m a person now? What about before? What was I then?”
“You know what you were, Amelia.” I don’t want to dwell on the years she spent without consciousness, her existence maintained only for the day when she would be gutted and harvested. It hurts unbearably to think of her that way but the fact is that I don’t. To me, she is entirely the woman whose awakening has changed my life forever.
Frustration rips through me as she looks away. Without thinking, I take hold of her, turning her so that she has no choice but to face me. She’s trembling and her eyes are even more luminous than usual. My throat thickens as I see the sheen of tears gathering in them.
Easing my grip enough to make sure that I’m not hurting her, I say, “I trust you, Amelia. So much so that I’ve told you things I’ve never revealed to anyone else. But something is troubling you deeply and you won’t tell me what it is.”
For the first time, I let myself admit that I resent her unwillingness to be as open with me as I have been with her. It leaves me feeling too far out ahead in our relationship, vulnerable in a way I’m not okay with.
“I want to.” Her voice is little more than a whisper but I can’t doubt her sincerity. “I’m just very…conflicted. Please, try to understand. I’m deeply grateful for my life but I can’t hide from the fact that it’s come at a high cost. I lost years of that life before I was finally allowed to begin living. But others are losing even more.”
I frown, not following her. “What do you mean? Who’s losing?”
Softly, patiently, she says, “Ian, while it may be true that I don’t have any personal responsibility for what’s been happening, my existence is still the reason why people are dying. More than a hundred men and women lost their lives when the HPF attacked the Institute. How many more were killed two nights ago at the Crystal Palace? And now you’re planning to go after Davos with potentially catastrophic repercussions for you and everyone else.”
“You really need to stop worrying about me,” I tell her even as I cherish the fact that she does. “I’ll be fine. I wish that I could change the rest of it but I can’t. All I can do is make sure that your future is a hell of a lot better than your past.”
We’re at a stalemate and I think we both know it. I’m trying to figure out what I can say that will give her some small amount of comfort when we’re suddenly interrupted. Hodge steps into the room.
“Pardon me, sir,” he says quietly. “The Council is convening in half-an-hour. They’ve sent word that they want you to be there.”
Normally, I’d balk at a summons from the venal half-wits who pretend to run the city but under the circumstances, it feels like a reprieve.
Hodge spears a glance in Amelia’s direction. “Shall I tell them you’re busy, sir?”
“No, that’s all right, I’ll go.”
His surprise is matched only by her own. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I caution her. “I’ll hear what they have to say. If there’s a chance that they’ll listen to reason, I’ll tell them about Davos. But the odds that I’ll join forces with the Council to deal with him are vanishingly small.”
“At least you’ll talk with them,” she says with an encouraging smile. “That’s progress.”
I don’t share her optimism but I don’t want to dampen it either. Davos can live a few more hours if that’s what it takes to make Amelia happy. After that, he’s all mine.
Chapter Twenty-two
Amelia
My relief that Ian is willing to at least talk with the Council fades as soon as he is gone. If he’s right about nothing good coming from the meeting, what will he do next? What danger will he put himself in because of me?
“Can I get you anything, Miss Amelia?”
Hodge is hovering. He’s clearly concerned about me.
“I’m fine,” I manage to say. “But thank you.”
The steward looks unconvinced. “Mister Ian will be back shortly, no doubt. In the meantime, perhaps you would enjoy a massage or some other relaxing activity?”
I can’t help but smile. Managing me can’t possibly have been covered in butler school, or wherever Hodge acquired some of his skills.
“I’d rather go for a walk.” Quickly, I add, “I’ll stay in Pinnacle House, of course. I promised Ian that I would. I just need to--”
To what? I can’t sit still, that’s for sure. Agitation is building in me by the moment. Ian has been gone mere minutes and I already feel as though I’m going to burst out of my skin.
“I need a distraction,” I say. “Gab showed me around when I was here before but I’m sure that she’s very busy right now. I can explore on my own, if that’s all right?”
Hodge inclines his head. “Of course, miss. If you wouldn’t mind wearing this--”
He holds out a bracelet that is identical to the one I wore on my previous stay at Pinnacle House. It’s coded to admit me to certain areas in the vertical city but not to others.
I thank him as he says, “A little old school but so much less obtrusive tha
n an implanted chip, don’t you agree?”
The thought of any such thing makes me shudder. “Old school is good. I’ll be back…when I am. I take it that you can get in touch with me if you need to?”
“The bracelet will pulse if you have an incoming message. Just tap it and you’ll be in contact. And, of course, it works in reverse. The bracelet can link you to any assistance you might require.”
I suspect that means that my location will be known wherever I go but that doesn’t surprise me. Privacy is the ultimate luxury in our world. At least I can take off the bracelet should I so choose. I wonder how many other people have trackers that can’t be removed.
At first, leaving the penthouse, I have no real idea of where I want to go. But then I think of when Gab took me on a tour, showing me the residential levels interspersed with recreational and entertainment areas, food courts, shopping pavilions, nature centers, hydroponic gardens, and so on that make up part of the vertical city of more than twenty thousand employees of Slade Enterprises and their families.
Instinctively, I make for the level where I first realized the true nature of Pinnacle House--a community in the midst of an enclave of the elite where ordinary people are allowed to live their lives unaffected by the oppression beyond their walls. That first time, the recreational area with an atrium that rises several hundred feet to a virtual sky was overrun with children just released from school. But it’s earlier in the day now and everything is a lot quieter.
Full spectrum daylight illuminates the wide, airy space. A soft breeze riffles the leaves of trees and bushes scattered throughout. A few couples and families with very young children stroll by. No one is dressed in the drab, monochromatic style of workers in the city. To the contrary, bright colors abound. The only exceptions are those wearing the black uniforms I’ve seen before and even they are obviously relaxed and off duty.
Anew: Book Two: Hunted Page 18
