by S. E. Babin
I crossed my arms. “Ex-girlfriend?”
“Something like that,” Watson said as he abruptly stood and exited the room.
My father watched as he walked away. “Sometimes you have those women you can’t let go of, no matter how hard you try.”
So...Watson and Lila. I was a bit disgusted by that, but tried not to let it show on my face.
My father wasn’t so easily fooled. He laughed. “You look like you’ve eaten something bad.”
“This is the second time she’s popped up and both times I was involved. I don’t understand why.”
Holmes toyed with one of the buttons on his ever-present jacket. I wondered if he ever got hot…or wore pajamas. “There’s a complicated history there, Penelope. She isn’t exactly bad, but she isn’t exactly good either. Although, I suspect after all this, she’s tipped over that precipice. The Lila I knew would never have openly challenged us like this.”
“What’s our plan?”
He shook his head and took my now empty coffee cup. “Worry about training for now. When we’re ready to act, you’ll be the first to know.” Holmes stood and his face softened. “But for now, I want you to go to your new quarters, get showered up, and take it easy for the rest of the day.”
“New quarters?”
He smiled. “Who knew you’d wreak so many changes here?” He set our cups in the sink and let himself out the door, allowing a young man with a medical kit in.
I grimaced.
“I just need to get one sample of blood and then I’m out of here, I promise.” He was young and wore a look so earnest, I knew he was a new employee. My father would never keep anyone that happily employed.
I nodded and he got to work, making good on his word to withdraw only a single vial. Parker entered in right after the lab tech exited. I was still sitting in the chair, wondering about my new quarters.
I had to tilt my head up to look at him. “Hey, Parker.”
His face looked stricken. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I must have looked a fright, so I tried to put him at ease. “It looks worse than it really is.”
He swallowed hard. “I missed all the clues. I had no idea Cass was involved in anything like this. She’s always been so loyal and hardworking.”
“Parker, this isn’t your fault. Cass made her own decisions.”
He looked away and cleared his throat. “I’ll walk you to your quarters.”
I stood, still a little shaky on my feet, and followed him to the door. Apparently, the moment was over. “Is there a jacuzzi?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Parker ignored me.
“A pony? Is there a pony?”
He held the door open for me, his face a mask of blankness.
“Oooh, let me guess, a butler! Do I have a Jeeves? That would be so cool.” I rambled all the way across the compound, with Parker non-responsive. When we reached the door to the new quarters, Parker gripped both my shoulders in his massive hands.
I held in my wince. I was still a little bit queasy.
“I am truly glad you are still here. I find you…tolerable enough.”
I grinned. “Aw, Parker. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me since my high school boyfriend told me I had a great personality and dumped me on prom night.”
Parker struggled not to smile as he turned to walk away. “Go on in, you pain in the ass.”
“You keep getting sweeter,” I yelled as I opened the door and abruptly stopped.
Holmes had outdone himself. Now this was an apartment. I stepped into a large living area with mahogany wood floors. Although it was sparsely furnished, the beauty of the place shone through its bareness. A leather couch rested a few feet away from a small entertainment center with an LCD television. A bookshelf filled with a couple of classics was on the other wall. A couple of bronze floor lamps filtered soft light through the place. The walls were a soft mix between robin’s egg blue and gray. I closed the door behind me, unable to fight the grin forming on my face.
To my left was a small kitchen. A stainless steel gas stove was stuck in between antique white cabinets. A medium-sized steel refrigerator was a few feet away. I walked over and cracked it open, fully expecting it to be empty. Much to my surprise, it was filled with fresh orange juice, eggs, milk, beer, and the fixings to make sandwiches. I trailed my hands on the dark, quartz countertops and walked into the back where the bedroom was.
The wood floors continued and a large curved window overlooked the full-sized bed in the middle of the room. I ignored it for now and walked over to the window, my gaze drawn by the dark leather chaise lounge set against the window. A cream-colored chenille blanket rested on the chair, on top of it a worn copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary. I bent down to pick up the book and a note fell out.
It was the best I could do on short notice. Every girl needs a proper home.
–Watson
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks. So, it wasn’t my father at all. I looked around the room, awed at such a gesture. I curled the note against my chest and headed to the bathroom. The wood stopped at the edge and gave way to a deep rustic stone tile. There was a small sink with a mirror, a large tub, and a stone shower. In the back of the bathroom, a large, wall-length mirror hung on the closet door.
Watson had thought of everything. I opened the closet door and saw my duffle bag and few belongings on the floor. I sat down next to it and leaned against the wall of the closet. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to the bottom of him. He was complicated. We both were, but I suspected Watson had a lot more time on his hands and had done a whole lot more living than I had.
We weren’t anything right now, but maybe one day I could get him to open up a little more. As I breathed in the chemical scent of new paint, I smiled. This was a good start.
Chapter 19
Two days later, I was getting knocked on my ass repeatedly by Watson.
“Penelope! Focus, damn it.” Watson reached down to help me up for what felt like the hundredth time.
I sighed and rubbed my dirty hands on my yoga pants. He was right. I was having trouble focusing on much this morning. I’d gotten the results of my bloodwork back earlier, and it told me what I already knew in my gut. Aaron hadn’t used anything on me except a couple of knockout drugs, and I was short a pint of blood. Holmes assumed I started coming out of the initial drugging and was additionally dosed. No wonder I’d felt so bad when I’d woken up in the driveway that morning.
With all things considered, it could have been much worse. Watson, however, took it much worse than I had. He’d upped my training level so much, I felt like I was in USMC boot camp. He was constantly yelling and telling me to get with the program. I wasn’t upset exactly, but I was getting annoyed with him.
I assumed the stance, balanced evenly with my legs spread slightly apart.
“You ready?” Watson asked.
I nodded. He punched. I slapped it away with one hand. He punched again, a little faster. I stepped easily out of the way. And so we went on for what felt like hours. It was the same repetitive motions and I wondered why he was teaching me this way when we all knew criminals and thugs weren’t repetitive; they were unpredictable.
I got my answer when, in a burst of speed I was unprepared for, Watson hit me with something that couldn’t have been his fist. I flew back, hit the wall with a sickening crunch, and slid down, losing consciousness.
I blinked rapidly and tried to get my bearings. Watson strode over and I flinched when he leaned in to help me up. Angry, I turned my head and ignored him. I was having trouble with muscle control.
“What did you hit me with?” I slurred after a moment.
“Knuckle stun gun.”
I moved my head and gave him an angry stare. “Not just a stun gun.”
His amber eyes met mine. “Yes, just a stun gun.”
Feeling was coming back into my extremities. “Stun guns don’t send you flying through the air.” I wiggled my hands and legs.
Watson sighed. “Strength will.”
I lifted my knees to my chest and put my hands down on the floor to help me stand, but his words caused me to pause. “Strength?”
He bent down and lifted me from the floor. With one arm.
“Holy crap,” I murmured.
He steadied me on my feet. “Just one more perk you have to look forward to.”
“When?” I was only beginning to feel slightly normal after the events of the last few days.
“Probably a few years. Don’t worry. Just enjoy the rest of your normalcy.” He stepped away from me.
“Why did you hit me like that?” I rubbed my shoulder where he’d struck me. It didn’t hurt as badly as I expected.
“You were getting used to the motions. It was time to shake it up.”
“A warning would have been nice.”
Watson rolled his eyes. “Because the bad guys give warnings before they put a bullet in your head?”
I ignored him. “It doesn’t feel like you punched me, but then…it sort of does.”
“It’s chi,” he responded.
“Tea?”
Watson chuckled. “Chi,” he said again. “It’s energy, life force, if you will.”
I’d been in this game long enough not to brush this off as nonsense. “You energy punched me?”
“Sort of. I brushed you with the Taser, which is why your arm hurts, but I didn’t actually punch you. I used chi to knock you back after I brushed you with the stun gun.”
I rubbed my shoulder. “Are you going to teach me how to do that?”
Watson bent down and started putting things into his duffel bag. “Not if you don’t start paying attention.”
I was stung. “I am paying attention!” Although that wasn’t one hundred percent true, especially today, I had been an apt pupil…at least I thought so.
“If you had, you would have seen that coming from a mile away.”
I frowned. “Obviously my senses haven’t been super honed like yours have. I’m not as fast or strong as you.”
“Don’t undersell yourself,” he said, the first thread of anger in his voice.
“Well, I’m not.”
He stood and spun to me. “Have you even tried to let yourself go? To see what you can really do?”
“I don’t know what I can or can’t do!” Although Watson was right, so was I. There was no secret pamphlet explaining exactly what happens when your genetic code is invaded by an untested scientific serum.
“You have no limits, Penelope.”
My brows knitted together. “What does that mean?”
He bent down, picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. “There are no rules. Every day I wake up and find out something new about myself. Strength, speed, intellect, all of it is enhanced with this infernal serum. You need to stop worrying about what you can’t do. What you should worry about are the things you can do.”
That sounded ominous. My anger evaporated. “I’m sorry,” I said. I wasn’t sure what else to say or if anything else was necessary.
His shoulders slumped. “It has nothing to do with you. Be ready to train hard tomorrow. Bring your A-game.”
“I will.”
Watson turned abruptly and left me inside the dusty gym.
Chapter 20
I spent the evening in a daze, wondering if I was suddenly going to wake up tomorrow with all kinds of superpowers I wouldn’t be able to handle. Watson’s words rang ominously throughout my brain the entire night. As soon as I felt myself drift off to sleep, an image of me suddenly sprouting dragon wings or something equally terrible would pop into my head, interrupting any rest I may have gotten.
At four a.m., I gave up, rolled out of bed, and got dressed. I slapped my hair into its ever-present bun and went down to the dining hall in search for coffee. I’d never been up this early before and I had no idea what time the hall opened, but if there was even a chance there was java, I was there. A coffee pot was on my list for the next time I was brave enough to venture outside, but that could be awhile.
I slipped on my soft, canvas shoes and opened the door. This place still freaked me out, but I was starting to get used to it. So far, it hadn’t done any of the funny things other people whispered about—switching hallways, rooms not where they’re supposed to be, strange things like that. But the people whispering about those things weren’t exactly nice people, so I wondered if maybe this place had strong opinions on who it liked and who it disliked. I padded through the halls, marveling at how quiet everything was. I was floored no one else was up yet. This place was full of annoyingly fit, chipper athletes, so being the only one up was a little strange.
I made it to the dining hall, but to my dismay, the lights were dim and there was no smell of fresh coffee, or anything else, for that matter. I peered through the window of the door, hoping I could throw myself on the good will of one of the workers, but all was quiet.
Even stranger. Classes started at seven sharp. Feeding hundreds of people required serious prep time so someone should have been in there starting things up. I stepped away from the closed door, peered down the hallway, and walked farther down to see if I could find anyone.
The sound of voices stopped me in my tracks.
“Where the hell is she?”
It was a male voice I didn’t recognize. I crept a little farther, closer to the voices, glad I decided to wear my canvas shoes instead of my normal flip flops. I stopped at the corner, trying to muster up the courage to peek around. I was being nosy, yes, but my intuition was telling me something out of the ordinary was happening.
“I don’t know. She was supposed to be in the test center!”
The blood froze in my veins. They were talking about me, and I knew that voice.
It was Lila. I wasn’t sure what they’d done to everyone, but I’d been extraordinarily lucky they’d moved my quarters just a couple of days ago. I turned and tiptoed back down the hallway. My cellphone was still in my room and I still wasn’t trained in using my damn DAR replacement properly, otherwise I would have called Watson immediately.
Once I was out of hearing range, I ran as fast as I could back to my room. I rushed to the nightstand, grabbed my cell, and found Watson’s number in my contacts. It rang several times and went directly to voicemail.
“Crap,” I muttered. He must be affected by what happened to everyone else. I slipped my cell into my pocket, opened the door softly, and hurried over to his quarters. At least, I hoped it was his quarters. We trained in an open area, but there was a door he would occasionally slip through to bring back water or extra towels. I assumed it linked to his apartments. I hoped I wasn’t wrong. The lighting was dim in the hallway, but I’d made the walk so many times, it was no problem for me to find my way. I touched the slick walls with my fingers as I hurried, quickly and quietly, making sure I kept my breathing low and steady. After one of our training sessions, Watson told me I was breathing like an asthmatic hippo, and to keep it up if I wanted to be dead on my very first mission.
He’d given me a lesson and a complex that day, so I’d made it a point to control my breathing the best I could both during our training session and in day-to-day life. Americans didn’t breathe properly, according to Watson, and because of this, they were susceptible to a host of health problems. Proper breathing enabled athletes to reach their maximum abilities and helped in situations like the one I was in right now. I wasn’t being pursued yet, but if they found me, I knew I’d be in for it.
I reached his door and gave a quiet tap, tap, tap, just to be polite. When no one answered, I pushed on the door. It was locked. I murmured a choice word underneath my breath and pushed harder on it, knowing it was completely useless. I looked at my DAR, the punch pad a crazy series of numbers. I knew how to use it to travel back in time, but I didn’t know what the other buttons did.
I really needed to start asking more questions.
I blew out a breath and looked around. It was silent here as
well. There were no tools, no nothing that could help me get into his room. I could try to find my father, but if he wasn’t already out here, I assumed he was in the same boat as everyone else.
I frowned. Why was I not affected by what they’d done? I peered down at the lock on his door. I was a smart girl, but I wasn’t a thief, so I’d bypassed the lock picking phase of my life. It looked like a normal lock and I wondered if I could pop it with a credit card.
I thunked my head against the door. Maybe if I actually had my purse with me. I looked down at my wrist again and a plan came to me. A ridiculous, wild plan. My father was going to kill me if the plan didn’t kill me first.
With a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, I punched some numbers into my bracelet and braced myself as the world fell away.
There were men in suits standing at our front door. My mother’s shoulders were tense and I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever seen her so angry.
Her foot rested at the back of the door, almost like she was anticipating them trying to force their way into the house. I stopped at the kitchen, eyes wary, and listened in.
“She isn’t here.”
“Mrs. Wilde, we understand your fears. We are only here to extend an invitation to your daughter.”
My mother’s voice lowered and anger shook her words. “A permanent invite?” she spat. “Over my dead body.”
I heard the man at the door sigh. “We’ve tried to get in touch with you multiple times only to be repeatedly ignored.”
My mother straightened and flipped her dark braid over one shoulder. “Then perhaps you are not the sort of gentlemen who gets strong hints.”
“Mrs. Wilde,” the man began again, but my mother shut the door in his face. She rested her head against it, her shoulders loosening with relief.
I half expected banging on the door or more fanfare, but there was only silence.
“Mom?” I inquired.
She jerked and stood abruptly. “Penelope. How much did you hear?”
