Twig

by wildbow

  Lara nodded.

  She flinched slightly as Duncan lowered the hand he’d held up.

  Emmett watched for a moment later before making himself react. His body was more adult than his head was, sometimes. He knew the rushes of hormones and emotion were sometimes over the top. But he’d found his peace, at some point between when he’d thought he was going to die and the two years where he’d worked at grasping this new life he’d been given. He was secure, mostly, and for the most part, he could put those feelings away.

  But he’d seen the bad doctors. The malicious and evil ones, which weren’t anything like Lillian and Duncan, and he’d seen the ones who had been unable to see the forests for the trees. He was on guard.

  Duncan declared, “We can put off seeing the other children at the yard until tomorrow. For now, we’ll finish this patrol, and we’ll get settled for the night. All of this paranoia about Sylvester is likely for nothing. He showed himself earlier, but with Sylvester, when you assume or expect something, the opposite is usually in the works. He probably wanted us to be on the lookout, while he’s busy interfering with the others. Draws your attention one way, then hits you from the other.”

  No sooner was he done speaking than a small dark object bounced off of Duncan’s head.

  “Lords!” Duncan cussed, one hand going to his head.

  “Duncan,” Ashton said, backing away and pointing.

  The small dark object was now billowing into a visible cloud of smoke or gas. A grenade or canister. Duncan backed away from it, but in the doing, wasn’t wholly able to keep his pets away from it. One of them ran through the cloud, then dropped to the road. The other panicked, hurling itself to one side, pulling Duncan off balance.

  “He’s here!” Ashton called out.

  The cloud was spreading, and Emmett noted another, just off to the side. Between the two, they had cut off their ability to progress further down the street.

  What had Duncan just said? Draws your attention one way, then hits you—

  Emmett wheeled around.

  He saw the fabled rabbit that had been moving ahead of them, dropping gifts off. A man, taller than a man should be, thin to the point that it looked like he should break under his own weight, with modified arms, legs, and feet, with the head of an oversized rabbit in place of his own.

  The rabbit stared with bloodshot eyes that pointed in slightly different directions as it half-walked, half-ran across the street behind them, letting go of more canisters. They hadn’t even started to smoke by the time the rabbit had picked up speed and carried on his way.

  “Son of a bitch!” Duncan said.

  Canisters of gas ahead of them, canisters behind, and buildings on either side. Boxed in.

  The gas was blowing into the box, too.

  “Sylvester!” Duncan called out.

  “Calm down,” came the voice, from the other side of the smoke. A young man’s voice, not fully mature. “I’m just here to talk. Worst the gas will do is knock you out and give you a bad headache.”

  “I’m not here to negotiate or give you any information, Sylvester,” Duncan said, raising his voice.

  “Neither am I, Duncan,” Sylvester said. “Matter of fact, I’m not even here to talk to you. I’m here to introduce myself to them. The little ones.”

  The little ones.

  Emmett bent down, seized Abby by the ribs, and lifted her up. She was holding Quinton, who had woken to the raised voices and was now bleating. Emmett set her down so she was sitting on his shoulders.

  Poor Lara was quaking, not sure where to look or what to do.

  He made sure she knew what he was doing before he picked her up too, lifting her up and out of the way of the smoke. She clutched at him, face buried into his shoulder, shaking like a leaf, and in the midst of the hug, she stabbed and gouged him a half-dozen times.

  He reached for Ashton, but Ashton shook his head.

  “I’m okay,” Ashton said. “I have good filters.”

  Emmett nodded.

  “—you’re going to come back with us!” Duncan called out.

  “You’re so tiresome,” Sylvester said. “Here’s the deal, Duncan. I want you to shut up. So either you sit in the corner and stay quiet, or I’ll start tossing the remainder of my grenades at you. Then you’ll have to decide. Do you stay where you are and get knocked out, wake up with a vicious hangover, or do you retreat to where they are, betray your shiny new team, and ensure that nobody wins, I have to do this again at a later date, and all of you get bad headaches?”

  “What if I call your bluff?” Duncan asked. “How many of these things can you have?”

  Emmett could hear the clink of the small object against a solid surface.

  “Ah,” Duncan said.

  Duncan could have retreated, but he remained where he was as the cloud expanded, covering one corner of the ‘box’ that Sylvester had created.

  There was a long pause, then a sound of footsteps, very deliberately working at being audible footsteps. Theater.

  “Sort of glad he didn’t move back toward you guys. I can’t throw quite that far, and I had only the one grenade left. The Witch had limited stocks of stuff,” Sylvester said.

  Emmett tried to track the voice. It was possible to throw something, aiming to hit Sylvester, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea, and he would have had to put the girls down and in the way of the gas.

  “I suppose the spokesman for the group will be Ashton, huh?” Sylvester asked. “Hi Ashton.”

  He was standing in the midst of the noxious cloud. His silhouette was briefly visible, now and then. Shorter than Duncan, taller than the three experiments that Emmett was standing by.

  “Hi Sylvester,” Ashton said.

  “Bringing you guys into play was a good move. Because I can’t leave you alone. And they know it. Now I’m trying to figure out what to do with you all.”

  “Come stand next to me and breathe deeply,” Ashton said.

  There was a pause, then a light cough. “Are you actually developing a sense of humor, Ashton?”

  “No,” Ashton said. “But I saw you ask Duncan politely and it worked, so I thought I would try it and see what happened.”

  “I’m not going to do that, Ashton.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t suppose any of you would be up for negotiation?” Sylvester asked. “I’ve been watching you. I know half of you can’t stand Duncan and the other half of you don’t feel at home here.

  “I can stand Duncan, and I like it here,” Ashton said.

  “There’s overlap,” Sylvester said.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m just floating the idea. Planting the seeds in your heads. There’s got to be a better way. A way that Abby gets all the animals she could want, and Lara gets to feel safe. A way that Emmett gets to have the rest of you.”

  Emmett felt Lara clutch him tighter at the mention of her name, claws digging past fabric and into his shoulder and side.

  “You left me out,” Ashton said.

  “You can stand Duncan, and you like it here, remember?” Sylvester asked.

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Emmett spoke, without realizing he’d meant to. “That isn’t what I want. Them. That’s not what I need.”

  “Emmett?” Sylvester asked. “You sound younger than you look. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Emmett didn’t respond to the pleasantry.

  “What do you want, Emmett?” Sylvester asked. “I can’t promise the world, but I can’t just see them raise up another generation of Lambs, fake or not, and let it be without at least offering.”

  “I want to negotiate, like you said,” Emmett said.

  “Excellent,” Sylvester said. His voice was coming from over where Duncan was. “Where do we start? What do you want, Emmett?”

  Emmett was not a boy of many words. He’d gotten out of the habit of talking, after years of being sick and years of isolation, being stuck in a lab with nobody to talk to but the doctors who
asked him things about his condition and nothing else.

  He took a long moment to think carefully about what he wanted to say next. Whether the others would agree with this, even though they had discussed it before.

  He had been a major transplant to an artificial body. There hadn’t been much to do while he grew up, in a sleepy, specialist Academy, so they had given him every test under the sun. When Professor Hayle started looking for the special cases, the unique brains, his scoring had been just high enough to get a cursory look. There hadn’t been many to pick from, as evidenced by the collection of Abby, and he’d been brought along to round out this secondary group.

  A benefit of being quiet was that one could listen, and he’d listened. He had been there while they had discussed strategy, all the individual tools and tricks. It had started, according to Mary, back in Radham. A woman who knew Sylvester and the other Lambs had appeared to deliver a note. The Lambs had talked to her.

  And when they had talked about something that the woman had shared with them, that might be useful as leverage, he had taken a risk, and he had shared a detail.

  Now he would share it with Sylvester.

  “I was sick, once,” he said. “They gave me a new body.”

  “They gave me a new brain, kind of,” Sylvester quipped, as if this was the most casual conversation in the world.

  “Yes,” Emmett said. “Before they did that, they gave you a drug, to wipe away your memories. But for me, my situation was bad. I had to get surgery right away, or I would have died.”

  There was silence, now. No quip, no casual conversation.

  Sylvester had already followed this thread to its logical conclusion.

  “They gave me the drug after, but it wasn’t enough. I remember things,” Emmett said. “And these things relate to what the other Lambs have told me. You, me, Mary Cobourn, the boy who was put together like a living stitched—”

  “Gordon,” came the voice.

  “—and Jamie, and countless others. You asked the Baron where the children go. It seemed to matter to you.” Emmett said. “I was almost one of them. I can tell you what I remember, that all the rest of you don’t.”

  There was no response.

  “We can negotiate,” Emmett said, to the darkness and the clouds of poison. “I’ll hear your offer.”

  Sylvester didn’t make one. Minutes passed, and the gas began to dissipate. When it was all gone, so was the rogue Lamb.

  Emmett nodded to himself. I’ll hear your offer when you’re ready to make it.

  He looked at Ashton, who stood to one side, looking intrigued at the goings-on.

  He crossed to where Duncan had collapsed, still holding Lara against his chest and bearing Abby and Quinton on his shoulders and head, respectively.

  Duncan’s face had been painted on with ink during the conversation. ‘Wanker’ had been drawn across his forehead, the end of his nose was now blue, the space between nose and lips and his lips painted to make him look like a cat or a dog.

  Bending down, careful not to drop those he already held, he set down Abby, and scooped up Duncan and the fallen dogs.

  “Time for bed?” Abby asked.

  Emmett nodded, letting Abby and Quinton lead the way to their dormitory.

  Previous Next

  Black Sheep—13.4 (Lamb)

  Helen handed off Nora to Lacey and Lillian’s care. She stretched, testing each and every one of her joints from fingertip to shoulder, shoulder to neck, then testing each muscle and segment all the way down her spine to her legs, legs to toes.

  She felt a brief moment of bliss in the sensation of being. The stretch was akin to giving herself a hug. There were no sensations quite as fulfilling and thrilling as when she wrapped herself around someone and felt them fighting her, straining and stretching inside her grasp. Stretching was like straining and stretching against herself, fighting and testing herself. Every pop and cartilage-against-cartilage realignment of a joint went hand-in-hand with a rush of feel-good hormones.

  It was like getting a hundred teeny tiny bites of tart.

  The thought made her realize she was hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food.

  Languid, smiling easily, feeling as relaxed as she ever had, she looked at Mary. Hard Mary, rigid, eager in a very different way. Mary was standing by the door, which was ajar, peering through the gap to the street outside. The muscles in Mary’s arms and legs were tensed, and she was ready to move or attack at a moment’s notice, if someone’s head outside turned the wrong way, or if she saw an opportunity.

  Helen approached Mary and, being careful to avoid the blade Mary held and to keep from impeding Mary’s view, slid one arm behind Mary’s neck and the other behind the small of Mary’s back, and embraced her.

  She felt the prick of Mary’s blade against the side of her neck.

  Just as carefully as she had embraced Mary, she backed off. She leaned in close to give Mary a peck on the cheek.

  “You’re riled up,” Mary said. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of the gap between the door and the doorframe.

  “It’s contagious,” Helen said. “I’ve been antsy for months now, and being around you and Lillian could calm me down. Being around Ashton could calm me down a lot. But Ashton isn’t here, and neither of you are calm. Mary is tense and I can smell how uncalm Lillian is—”

  “Ahem,” Lillian said.

  “—and I can hear her breathing as if she was breathing right in my ear, and it makes me restless and it makes me want to embrace someone.”

  “I’m ready to act, but I’m calm,” Mary lied. “As calm as anyone is while being tracked by a small army.”

  Helen smiled. “Uh huh.”

  She felt the blade move fractionally.

  “The adjusted drug regimen from Ibbot might be responsible for your mood,” Lillian said. “If I could pare it down any without him catching on during your next appointment, I would. Maybe you could tell him the truth? That you’re lying to him about your emotional states. If he keeps adjusting in response to falsehoods, something bad could happen.”

  “I’m not lying to him,” Helen said.

  “He’s lying to himself. Yeah. You know what I mean, Helen.”

  Helen smiled softly. “The day I tell him he’s wrong is the day he’ll decide I’m not worth the trouble.”

  “Okay,” Lillian said. She sighed, looking at Nora and Lacey.

  They had already had the ‘none of this gets repeated to the Academy’ conversation a few times. At least with the details regarding Helen, Lillian felt confident letting Lacey overhear. Lacey had no love for Ibbot.

  Lillian spoke, “Do your best, and please don’t kill Sylvester, Helen.”

  Helen didn’t let the smile falter. “I’ll try not to.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lillian’s breathing wasn’t as hard or intense as it had been, earlier. The mention of Sylvester normally quickened it and drew her focus, but Helen was very aware of the fact that the subject of Sylvester dying had stopped all that. Sobering and concerning to Lillian. It mattered.

  An imaginative part of Helen’s brain conjured up the notion that if something did happen to Sylvester, then Lillian might stop breathing altogether. Lillian liked him a lot, even now. It would break her heart.

  Helen would have to try very hard, to not break Sylvester too much and break Lillian’s heart in the process.

  “Lara wants to talk,” Nora said.

  “Hold on,” Lillian said. “We’re not sure if Sylvester is listening in. Let’s wait until—”

  “He’s not listening in. He’s over there. Or he was,” Nora said.

  Mary turned her eyes away from the crack in the door. Lacey moved away from Nora to better see Nora’s face, her expression serious.

  “Okay, honey,” Lillian said.

  Helen could see the change in Lillian’s body language, she could hear the shift in breathing, and she imagined she could hear the increased speed of Lillian’s heartbeat. Her own h
eartbeats increased in response.

  All of this was so enjoyable and so terrifying at the same time, like the thrill of standing on a ledge.

  “Abby: Duncan’s asleep. But Quinton is okay. The rest of us are okay too.”

  “Give Quinton a hug for me,” Helen said.

  “Abby: Okay.”

  “Let’s keep it serious,” Lillian said, quiet. Then, louder, she said, “Sy was there?”

  “Ashton: Duncan got gassed. Sylvester wanted to talk. He talked with Duncan, then with me, then with Emmett. Emmett told Sylvester he was willing to negotiate, using what you told him to say. Then Sylvester disappeared.”

  “Oh, okay, wow,” Lillian said. “Too many things to ask and respond to. Is Duncan okay? Do I need to treat him? Do I need to treat any of you?”

  “Ashton: Sylvester said he would wake up with a bad headache. I don’t think we need you.”

  “Alright,” Lillian said.

  “Ashton: We wondered if we should tell you right away. We didn’t want to distract you when you’re in trouble, and Lara said you weren’t out of trouble.”

  Mary spoke, her voice low, so she wouldn’t be heard by anyone outside, “We’re not, but it was right to fill us in. When in doubt, more information is best.”

  “Ashton: I remember you saying that to Duncan. But the reason we decided to share was because we asked a woman and she said some things about the people chasing you. It sounds like the people Sylvester provoked and was fighting with, the really dangerous people, they work for the Devil. He’s the leader of the biggest gang and it sounds like he’s still out there, unless Sylvester got him and the ordinary people don’t know yet.”

  “Then we have a target,” Mary said.

  “A distraction, not a target,” Lillian said. “But we can discuss that. Anything else, Ashton?”

  “Ashton: No. Except it sounds like the children who didn’t leave the city or hide in the houses of people they know might be at a place called the yard. We were going to go in the morning.”

  “Good. Sleep. Take care of Duncan. Get him to drink lots when he’s awake. We’ll touch bases and ask questions when everything is wrapped up. But it’ll be redundant and unfair if we discuss the Sylvester situation before Duncan is conscious.”