by Sophie Davis
“Holy clone! That’s Gracia!” Daphne shrieked, shoving Cressa from behind in her race to the railing of the observation deck.
“Shh!” Hartley warned. “I don’t know how soundproof the glass is.”
Focused on the chamber and the doctors, Cressa’s gaze hadn’t quite made it to the holo-image on the far side of the chamber. Sure enough, when she looked up, the face on the right side of the display was Gracia’s. On the left half, Natalia Lyons’ cold violet gaze stared out from the projection.
“She’s breathtaking,” Hartley muttered. Cressa didn’t have to ask which girl he was talking about.
To someone who’d never seen Natalia Lyons, Hartley’s comment might have come across as simple admiration for a pretty girl. Because Natalia was beautiful, there was no denying it. But seeing such a lifelike image of the girl for herself, Cressa understood that ‘breathtaking’ was the only term for her. There was something about Natalia that drew Cressa in, mesmerizing her, and made her want to be close to the Talent. The feeling was a lot like when Cressa had met Sir Tate, except exponentially stronger.
Without conscious thought, Cressa’s feet carried her to the railing to stand beside Daphne. Fascinated, she watched the holo-screen as Gracia’s side slowly transformed, feature by feature, to become more like the image of Natalia. The longer the robotic arms worked, the sharper Gracia’s cheekbones became and more heart-shaped her face appeared. Even the purple hue of Gracia’s irises deepened, until it perfectly matched her source’s.
“This is so freaky,” Hartley said.
One level below, Lyla was still shouting at the Jacobs, unleashing weeks of pent up aggression on her targets. Cressa blocked out the fighting, too engrossed with the cloning process to care.
“Do you think the Dame is in one of those bubble costumes?” Hartley asked.
“No, she’s probably watching through that camera.” Cressa pointed to the black orb spinning above the incubation chamber. “That’s probably how the floor captains are observing, too.”
“She already looks just like her,” Daphne remarked, sounding much like the child she still was. “I can’t believe my sister is gone.”
The coldness inside Cressa started to thaw, sending a rush of emotion through her veins. She didn’t fight it. Daphne was young and immature, and sort of annoying at times, but that was because she had yet to reach puberty. The little canary’s heart was breaking for the loss of her big sister, a girl she clearly looked up to and admired, no matter how much she pretended otherwise. And Cressa couldn’t ignore the overwhelming desire to comfort Daphne.
Wrapping an arm around Daphne’s shoulders, Cressa pulled the younger girl into a hug. “Gracia’s not gone,” she soothed. “Changing her appearance doesn’t change the person she is inside.”
Though if she does take on some of Natalia’s personality, that might not be a bad thing, Cressa thought wryly.
The media may have painted Natalia Lyons as cold and impersonal, which were probably necessary traits for an assassin, but Cressa doubted that was the whole story. She’d seen images of Natalia and Erikson together on various UNITED missions. The way they looked at each other was enough to soften even the hardest of hearts. And any teenage girl—it was crazy to think Natalia Lyons was only a few years older than Cressa—who’d risked her own life to save her boyfriend’s had to be good at the core. A lot of girls said they’d be willing to do the same, yet Natalia had actually done it.
Those lasers better be able to give Gracia a heart and a soul, Cressa mused. Otherwise, she had no chance of fooling anyone into thinking she was Natalia.
Holding on to Cressa as though she were the lone buoy in a turbulent sea, Daphne started to weep. Clearly uncomfortable by the little girl’s tears, Hartley stepped back to give them space.
“It’s silly, I know.” Daphne hiccupped. “Gracia and I don’t even like each other. But she’s the only family I have anymore. Our parents aren’t going to be Privileged. Who knows what the Dame will do with them? Gracia says we won’t see them again. Ever. She said they’ll be better off than most norms, but nowhere near as valued as us.” This made Daphne cry harder. She reached out and started to stroke the glass, like she was petting Gracia’s new face.
Cressa was about to reassure Daphne that the Beaumonts would live a glorious life once the Dame came into power, as parents of Privileged children. But the words were still on the tip of her tongue when all hell broke loose.
Erik
Nice, France
Two Days Before the Vote
My team of misfits landed in Nice, France just as the sun was coming up. The mission was off the books, so to speak. The council, minus Victoria, believed we were detouring to France on our way to London for a bit of sightseeing. The fact that they actually believed the lie made me question whether they were really the best group of people to be governing UNITED. Of course, they didn’t know that Victoria’s brother had provided us with credible intel, in his mind at least, that both Talia and Anya were in Nice.
The seaside town was quiet and peaceful when we arrived, save the hordes of Talented already on the docks.
“What’s going on there?” Henri asked, pointing to the line of over a hundred men, women, and children.
“A lot of Talented are relocating already,” Frederick told his boyfriend in a low voice. “They know their chances in the lottery aren’t good, so they are immigrating to countries they believe will be tolerant even if the treaty is overturned, like the U.S. and England.”
We’d arrived in an unmarked heli-hover, but the refugees still seemed to guess that we were with UNITED. Many of them began pointing excitedly in our direction, anticipating that we were there to help with the evacuation. The emotion pouring off of the crowd was a suffocating mix of hope and desperation.
Penny drew in a sharp breath and stumbled as our team filed onto the tarmac. Brand reached over to steady her.
“Just concentrate on blocking them,” I sent her.
“It feels wrong. We have spots on the islands, the least I can do is feel their pain and empathize with their misery,” Penny sent back.
“You can’t, Penny. That much depression is crippling. And right now, we need you at your best. Talia needs you at your best.”
With Brand’s help, Penny stood up straighter. Steely determination shone in her lime irises, and she nodded.
A man in a black pinstriped suit approached our group. He saluted, remaining rigid as we all returned the gesture.
“At ease, son,” Miles told the newcomer.
“I am Agent Nadir, British Intelligence. Hans Walburton has asked that I escort you all around Nice. I am at your disposal and would like to help in any way possible.” The man’s dark eyes turned sympathetic. “I have heard a great deal about Natalia Lyons and her work against the Poachers. A close friend of mine was a victim of the Poachers. He is free now, but he still has nightmares about his time in captivity. Anyone willing to fight against such an organization is a friend to me.”
“Thank you,” I told him.
“Right. Well, I think some of us are going to start by talking to the harbormaster,” Miles replied.
Agent Nadir became uneasy. “You plan to split up, sir? I was told you would be operating as a team.”
“And we are team. A team that will cover a lot more ground if we divide and conquer,” Miles answered.
After the meeting in Victoria’s office, the councilwoman and Crane had agreed that the best course of action was to send Henri, Fredrick, Miles, Brand, Penny, and me to Nice to follow the tip from her brother. I’d wanted to leave immediately, but Crane thought that if word of UNITED’s presence in Nice got back to Talia and Anya they might leave before we landed. He argued that giving them time to settle in would create a sense of security. Of course, that was assuming that Nice was their final destination, at least until they left for London. Because I was positive that Talia was ultimately headed to London.
I was also positive that we wou
ldn’t find Talia in Nice, no matter what Hans Walburton thought. But Talia hadn’t reached out to me again, and I’d been unable to contact her. So, with my only other options being to wait on Eden or head to London, I’d conceded to the mission. At least going to France made me feel like I was doing something productive to locate Talia, even if this venture proved a bust.
“Very good, sir,” Agent Nadir told Miles.
“Kid, you wanted to talk to the harbormaster with me, right?” Miles asked, addressing me.
“Definitely,” I said.
I doubted that the two girls the man had seen were actually Talia and Anya. Yes, the descriptions matched my girlfriend and her coconspirator, but that didn’t mean much in my opinion. Since Talia’s escape, UNITED’s tip line had been flooded with false leads and dead ends. Considering the news of her disappearance was limited to trusted law enforcement officials and UNITED informants, I was amazed by the number of calls and messages.
“Brand and I will come with you guys,” Penny announced.
The look of concern Brand shot his girlfriend made me shake my head and refuse her offer. Even with her mental shields in place, Penny was still bothered by the mass of refugees. Too bothered to concentrate on the task at hand.
“I think you two and Henri should start canvassing local businesses,” I told her. “Agent Nadir can help with that. A lot of the cafes and such should be opening about now. Show their pictures around; see if anyone remembers either Anya or Talia. Search people’s memories for images of both just to be certain. Frederick, Miles, I will speak with the harbormaster, and then do the same.”
Reluctantly, Penny agreed to the plan. She pulled up a map of the town on her communicator and we divvied up the shops between our two teams before parting ways.
“Oh, and make sure you modify the memories of anyone you speak to so that they can’t tipoff the girls if they see them again,” Miles called after Penny and the others.
“No.” I shook my head. “It would better if you suggest they tell Talia you or I are looking for her. If she knows we’re here, and she is really here, she’ll come find us.”
“Got it. See you guys in a couple of hours,” Penny called back.
The harbormaster was a young guy named Martin with a scraggy beard, several facial piercings, and even more tattoos. Unfortunately, he also enjoyed a party lifestyle and was suffering an extreme hangover.
“Yeah, I saw those chicks,” Martin said from behind his incredibly cluttered desk. He leaned back in his chair and yawned. Squinting against the harsh sunlight streaming through the dusty blinds, he reached behind him and touched a switch on the wall to close them.
“Yesterday morning, right? About what time?” I asked.
Miles, Frederick, and I were standing opposite Martin, partially because there was nowhere to sit and partially to impart that this was not a social visit. We wanted answers, and we wanted them quickly. Had it not been physically painful to be inside Martin’s head, I would have dispensed with the question and answer route and just pulled the information from his mind. But one quick peek inside his muddled thoughts was enough. It had felt like icepicks were being jabbed in both of my temples.
Martin blew out an alcohol-laced breath that made me queasy. “Early. Like wicked early. Maybe six a.m.? Nah, probably a little later. The sun was up. Yeah. The sun was totally up. So probably closer to like eight.”
I glanced at my companions. Talia had left her cell around one in the morning. The pods had deployed at 1:37 a.m. Six hours to reach Nice seemed excessive. Those pods traveled pretty damned fast. This furthered my assumption that the two girls Martin had seen were not Talia and Anya.
“Tell us again what the girls looked like,” Miles said.
“Like I told Hans, they were both skinny chicks. One was hella scary. She was all fierce and pissed off looking.”
“Which one?” I interjected, though I was pretty sure I knew.
“The pretty one,” Martin said decisively.
“Which one was the pretty one?” Frederick demanded, sounding as frustrated as I felt.
If this kept up, I was going to have to suck it up and dive back inside Martin’s head.
Martin scratched his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know. She was real pretty. Though it sorta looked like she’d been on a three-day bender, you know? Big black circles under her eyes. Oh, snap.” The harbormaster snapped his fingers. “Green eyes. She had these big, green eyes, looked like they belonged in a ring or something. That was the pissed off one.”
Anya. Interesting. She was definitely pretty, but compared to Talia, well, there was no comparison in my mind. My girlfriend was gorgeous. Maybe I was bias.
“Really?” Frederick sounded shocked. His response had more to do with the pissed off descriptor than the attractiveness factor. “What about the other girl? What was she like?”
Martin shrugged and drank from a large mug of reheated coffee on his desk. “Kinda quiet? She didn’t say much. She just followed the other girl around. The pretty one did all of the talking. She wanted to know where they could rent a hover.”
“Wait, you actually spoke to the girls?” I asked.
“Yeah. Like I told Hans—at least, I think that’s what I told him. Memory’s a little foggy sometimes, if you catch my drift?” Martin grinned impishly.
I wanted to smack some sense into him. The guy was a moron.
“Yeah, we understand you loud and clear,” Miles replied, revulsion rolling off of him in waves. He got out his communicator and pulled up two pictures, one of Talia and one of Anya. He angled the screen towards Martin. “Are these the girls you saw?”
Martin nodded. “Totally. That’s totally them.”
“Okay, so you spoke to Talia and Anya, right? They wanted to know where to rent a hover? Did they say where they were going?” I demanded, putting a little something extra behind my question to speed along this painfully slow process.
“Nah. Oh, but they wanted one with long-range capabilities. Not like a rec hover. Something sturdier. I sent them to the rental shop on Canal. It’s only like a mile walk.” Martin gulped more of the burnt black coffee.
Miles turned to me. “Anything else, kid?”
I gritted my teeth and prepared my mind for the onslaught of pain that was about to come. Just as I’d predicted, being inside of Martin’s head felt as I imagined being inside of a blender would feel. Blades seemed to be slicing and dicing my brain as though wielded by a master chef. My thoughts became jumbled and incoherent. Images that I couldn’t un-see invaded my mind: Martin doing body shots off the stomach of a girl in desperate need of a shower; Martin engaging in some incredibly kinky acts with twins who, in his mind, looked just like Anya; Martin waking up in the morning with the worst case of cotton mouth known to man.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and waded through the muck in search of images of the real Anya and my girlfriend. Even though Martin had confirmed the two girls he spoke with were Talia and Anya based on their photos, I didn’t trust his judgment. I wanted to see the interaction firsthand.
Finally, I found the memory. Through Martin’s eyes, I saw Anya asking him about the hover rental. She did indeed look peeved. Though Martin had been more interested in those of Anya’s features that were below her chin, so I couldn’t get much of a read on her facial expressions throughout the short conversation. Behind Anya, Talia stood off to the side, partially obscured by the door to Martin’s office. Her chestnut curls hung over her face. Her arms were crossed over her chest protectively, and she was curled into herself as though uncertain.
With considerable effort, and tremendous relief, I separated from Martin’s mind.
“If you see either girl again, you will not tell them you spoke with us. If they ask, you have not been in contact with UNITED or Hans Walburton or any other intelligence agency. Do you understand?” I ordered.
Martin’s already glassy eyes became even glassier and unfocused under my command. He nodded slowly.
Miles, Frederick, and I left without so much as a goodbye. The harbormaster was snoring before we made it halfway down the dock towards the exit.
“I thought you wanted Talia to know you are looking for her?” Frederick asked once it was just the three of us.
“I do,” I said through clenched teeth. “But the girl with Anya wasn’t Talia.”
Miles and Frederick both stopped dead in their respective tracks. I kept going. We needed to meet up with Penny and the others ASAP.
“Kid, come on. Be serious,” Miles called. “You heard what Hans said about altered visions and energy field disruptions. I don’t completely understand how that all works, but it makes sense. I know you think Talia must be somewhere cold, but that might not be true. Besides, Martin identified Talia in the photo.”
I turned and started walking backwards. “I’m dead serious, Miles. I know Talia. That girl wasn’t my girlfriend. She looked just like her, but it wasn’t her. Hurry up. We have to find the others. And contact Crane and Victoria. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but it can’t be good.”
“Erik, I get that this is very difficult for you. You are under a lot of stress right now—”
I silenced Frederick with a glare. “I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you are. It’s just—”
“I know what I saw,” I snapped. “Trust me, Frederick. If you saw a guy that looked exactly like Henri, but his mannerisms were wrong and his demeanor didn’t fit with the guy who know, wouldn’t you know the difference?”
“I’d like to think so,” Frederick replied. “But how is there a girl running around that looks exactly like Talia? Does she have a secret twin?”
“Like Hans said, I don’t have all of the answers. I just know what I know. And I know the girl Martin saw with Anya was not Talia.” I blew out a long breath. “Now, please, let’s go find the others.”
