Part Three
Seven Years Ago
"Shhh," she whispered. "They'll hear."
Lexa was trying to teach him how to use the crawl spaces to spy on the kitchen staff. The air ducts had been too narrow for his broadening shoulders-something that had made Doc smirk and Lexa frown with confusion.
"How come you're getting so?big?" she'd asked, eyeing his arms.
It was all he could do not to show off how well his biceps were coming along. "Growing up, sneak."
"Huh," she'd said, before shrugging and running off to climb her ropes. Her interest had left him feeling a little wobbly.
Now, though, they were in utility easements. The passages were wider, so the wiring could be worked on, but he still didn't like the feeling of being trapped, and his breathing had turned ragged and noisy.
"S-sorry," he gasped.
She stopped crawling forward and turned to look at him over her shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Just need a second." Quinn forced himself to breathe more slowly. Sure, he could bench press three times what Lexa could. He could outrun her, too. But being trapped in tight places? Screws, why did she think this was fun?
"We need to hurry. They're going to serve the soup any minute."
He nodded and began following her. There was a service cubby in the corner of the kitchen, and he could hear the cook-human, because why would an artificial care about good food (which totally explained why they both stole cookies every chance they got)-bustling around to ready the salads. Maren was hosting some politicians to talk about the gubernatorial race, and dinner had to be perfect.
He and Lexa overheard them talking on the way to the dining room about the "terrible tragedy" that befell the Shaws and their security team six months ago. Suicide hill, the steep road leading to Maren's house, was the site of many hovercraft accidents. So no one questioned that they'd gone straight into the lake after their car malfunctioned.
Very sad.
Quinn felt nothing but disgust about the whole thing, especially his part in it. Sure, Governor Shaw had been a blowhard, but his party didn't deserve to be gunned down while guests in someone else's house.
The message had gotten through loud and clear to the rest of the council, though. Frak with the Quad, you get a bullet-or four-right through the skull.
Quinn flushed a little at his daring. Cursing was his new favorite vice. Yes, he could curse like most artificials: screws, gears, mech-headed tool. But he liked the feel of the human curse words on his tongue, too. So he used them to keep them from having any power over him.
If he used their words, they meant nothing.
Which was also why, in his head, he'd started saying "Maren" without the Miss tacked on. If Doc could do it, so could he. He was done being a scared little boy.
"She's leaving!" Lexa's excitement was barely contained. "Preston came to tell her one of the guests had some questions about the salad."
The cook had gotten onto them for taking cookies, and she was mean as hell to all the artificials. Quinn had caught her cuffing Preston across the face because the tablecloth had a spot on it-after dinner. The wine stain had come from Maren's glass, and somehow that was Preston's fault.
Quinn couldn't let that slide. So he had decided they needed a new cook.
As dinner had started, he'd disabled the kitchen security camera. The cook, of course, had shooed the guards away, telling them she'd raise an alarm if "a gang of nasty Bolts" showed up, but that she didn't want them underfoot for no good reason other than to watch her stir soup.
Just like he planned-now they could go into the kitchen without being seen.
"Let's go," he said.
They crept into the kitchen. The pot of butternut squash soup bubbled on the stove. It was thick with cream and smelled delicious. Quinn smiled; that wouldn't last long.
Lexa ran for the salt. He ran for the cayenne pepper. They worked quickly, dumping half the salt and a quarter of the pepper into the soup. He'd chosen cayenne because specks of black pepper would've been too noticeable in the golden soup.
Lexa went to the door to keep watch. "She's talking to one of the ladies about the salad dressing."
Quinn stirred the mess into the soup, rinsed the spoon, and put it away.
"She's coming back!" Lexa hustled over and put the salt and pepper away. "Into the cubby!"
They raced into the cubby, and Lexa barely had the door closed before the cook hurried in, muttering, "Who does she think she is, asking all those questions? As if we'd alter the menu just for her. The citrus vinaigrette is Miss Maren's favorite, and I'm not changing it for some two-bit reporter. No, ma'am."
The barrage of insults continued the entire time she dished up the soup. Quinn didn't know how she missed the change in smell-cayenne was pretty obvious. But she must've been so peeved that she didn't notice.
Preston arrived a few moments later with empty salad plates-save one.
"Did that hussy not eat?" the cook grumbled. "She's going to go hungry if she keeps turning her nose up at everything."
"Yes, ma'am," Preston said, sounding bored.
She loaded up his tray with the soup and sent him on his way. Lexa had her hand clamped over her mouth so she wouldn't laugh.
"We need to get back," Quinn whispered. "If we're in the training room when this goes down, how could we possibly be involved?"
She made a face. "I can't lie like you can. I hope they don't ask."
They started crawling back to the utility adjunct near the service entrance, when they heard the kitchen door swing open, and a panicked Preston saying, "Miss Maren's coming? The soup?"
"What did you put in the soup?" Maren's voice promised pain and suffering. "I understand you weren't happy with Carolee for not liking the salad, but I won't have my staff-"
"Miss Maren, I have no idea what you're talking about!"
There was an icy pause. "It doesn't matter. I haven't been pleased with your service, anyway. You're dismissed. You, show her out, then come back and serve the roast."
"Yes, ma'am," Preston answered.
Quinn and Lexa crawled faster until they tumbled out into the service entrance behind a stack of crates. The cook was tearfully accepting a ride from one of the security guards. When Maren dismissed someone, she didn't mess around.
Once they were gone, the two of them scrambled upstairs, using a route Lexa had developed that avoided the security sweeps. The first time she'd sneaked into the training room while Doc watched all the security feeds without seeing her, he'd tossed her in the air, laughing.
Now, it gave them the run of the entire house, except for Maren's quarters, of course. They still hadn't figured out how to leave the grounds without being caught, but Quinn was working on it. These little incursions were training for that day.
They stumbled into the training room, panting and laughing.
"I wish we could've seen the look on her face," Lexa said. "She was so mean, I'm glad she got kicked out."
"Me, too, even if her snickerdoodles were the best out of the last three cooks." Quinn sighed. "Does it ever strike you as weird that the two of us live here, eating Maren's food, instead of the Precipice dorms downtown?"
"Miss Maren," Lexa said, shooting a glance at the door. "But I hadn't really thought about that. I mean, the security artificials live here. So do Preston and the cleaning staff. Why wouldn't we live here, too?"
"Yes, but we have special instructors, combat training, expensive tutors." He lowered his voice. "They're preparing us for something. Doc hinted about that once, and he has to be right. But for what?"
"I don't-"
Lexa's answer was cut short by the sound of footsteps in the hall. They split apart, Quinn hurrying to start up a computer simulation he'd been running and Lexa to shimmy up a rope to the ceiling.
A moment later, Maren, Piers, Doc, and Dr. Martine entered the room. Dr. Martine looked stern-a bad sign. Doc looked blank. Another bad sign.
"What did you
do?" Maren's voice carried through the open space, bouncing off every hard surface to rebound back to her. "One of my guests went into anaphylactic shock because she's allergic to cayenne pepper."
Lexa let out a squeak in the rafters, and Maren fixed her death-ray stare on her. "Oh, yes. That little prank nearly killed someone."
"Miss Maren," Quinn said, to deflect the attention away from Lexa. "What are you talking about?"
A muscle ticked in her jaw. "Someone put a bunch of salt and cayenne in our soup. The cook swore to security that she didn't do it. I had to make a public example of someone, and she was on warning already, so I let her go. But the moment we figured out what was wrong, I knew who was behind such a childish and insolent trick."
Quinn sat completely still. She hadn't asked a question, so he wasn't obligated to say anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lexa climbing all the way to the top platform in the corner of the room. When she got there, she hugged her knees to her chest.
Maren noticed her distress, too. "Lexa, dear. Come down. Now." She turned to Dr. Martine. "See, she's trouble. And now, she's corrupting Quinn. I can't have my investment tainted by a failed experiment."
Dr. Martine opened his mouth, then shut it, like he had no idea what to say.
When Lexa came to stand before them, she bowed her head so her hair hung in her face. He could practically smell her desperation. She couldn't lie, so if they asked her a direct question, she'd have to answer or her security programming would give her away. That shoulder twitch would be her undoing-permanently.
Maren walked over and put a finger under her chin to force her to look up. "The cookies last week, hiding my data pad yesterday, and now this? Why did you do it? I ought to let Piers take care of you, but maybe it's time to terminate your program if you can't-"
Quinn leapt to his feet. "It was my idea. All of it. I dragged Lexa into it."
Lexa shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. The cookies had been her idea, but he'd take the blame for all of it. He didn't know why Maren hated Lexa and not him, but he'd use that to their advantage to keep her safe and whole.
"Well, I must say I'm very disappointed," Maren said. "Caldwell, take Lexa to her room. Quinn, you'll go with Piers."
"No!" Lexa screamed, fighting her way free of Dr. Martine. Before she could reach Quinn, though, Doc grabbed her arms and held her back. "No! Let me go! Don't take Quinn. Take me!"
"Quinn's already admitted his guilt," Maren said, obviously enjoying Lexa's fear. "Dr. Mendal, remove her?and give her a sedative."
"She won't remember what happened if we do," Doc warned.
"Exactly." Maren went to Quinn and gripped his shoulder tight enough to bruise. "I want her to have no memory of this, so Quinn can bear his punishment alone."
They dragged a howling Lexa from the room. Maren shook her head. "I see why Dr. Mendal calls her Hellcat. She's about as feral as an alley stray. There are days I question the wisdom of creating you a helpmate. So far, it hasn't worked out exactly like the old Bible stories claimed. Then again, I'm not sure you've developed a strong enough personality to make her submit to you properly." She released his shoulder. "I expect that, from here on out, you'll take a firm hand with Lexa. She's yours to control and your responsibility. You have the ability to work people over to your will. You'll do that with Lexa, or she's finished."
Quinn's stomach twisted in misery. Bend Lexa to his will? He'd sooner be able to control the wind than restrain her. Besides, that sounded like a good way to make her hate him forever.
Could he be rough with her to save her life, though? Because that might be his only choice.
"Now," Maren said, "Piers will provide a lesson in what it means to cross me."
"Come on, beanpole." Piers grabbed his arm. "Downstairs we go."
Once they were in the stairwell, the frustration and anger about his situation finally got the better of him. "I weigh almost as much as you. So who's the beanpole now, stickman?"
Oh, gears? Had his mouth malfunctioned?
Piers laughed. "There's a difference between wiry and weak, moron." He slammed Quinn against the wall, and the stair rail knocked the wind out of him. As he gasped for breath, Piers leaned in close. "And you are weak."
A tear ran down Quinn's cheek. He was weak. He'd wasted his time on petty crimes. He wouldn't make that mistake again. Piers hauled him up and led him down to his "workshop."
The artificials called it the horror factory.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Piers hit Quinn with a low-energy stunner blast, just enough to turn his limbs to jelly and make him more compliant about being strapped into the chair. It was like a dentist's chair, except it had restraints at the chest, waist, and calves. Once you were strapped in, you weren't going anywhere.
Piers made sure the straps were extra tight. The bump on his nose, where Quinn had broken it in a bid for escape three months ago, had taught him "beanpole" was a lot stronger than he looked. Quinn counted that as one of his few victories in this place.
Getting the cook fired was another.
He was being reckless, though. Lexa was too important to him to screw up anymore. It wasn't just the pain he knew was coming. It had nothing to do with any punishment they could devise.
He knew, for sure, that he'd learned how to love. Maybe it was a programmed response based on a girl created for this sole purpose, but he felt it. Maybe he was only twelve and she was barely ten-but he loved her. He'd do anything to protect her. Sure, the thought of kissing her was a little gross, but that didn't make his feelings any less intense.
"What are you grinning about over there?" Piers said from his workbench.
Quinn wanted to say, "Your ugly face," but he was running a new program: being good for Lexa's sake. "Just glad we're getting a new cook."
Piers surprised him by laughing. "You know, I hated that old cow. She always served undercooked or lukewarm stuff to the staff. Like she couldn't be bothered to feed us if Ms. DeGaul wasn't in residence."
Huh. "Does that mean you won't punish me? I promise to be very convincing."
He turned around, a padded cudgel in hand. "What's the fun in that?" He swung the cudgel and nodded. "Now, the boss said we had to do this so your marks are hidden. She was dead serious. Little Lexie is not to know that you took her punishment. Ms. DeGaul doesn't want you to get ideas about being noble or heroic."
Quinn deflated a little. Fine. Lexa would never know he took her punishments. But that wouldn't stop him.
"Then let's get this over with."
The first blow across the top of his legs came before the words died on his lips, and a yelp escaped. After the second blow slammed into his chest, he clamped his mouth shut and retreated into his mind. It was the only safe place he had.
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Unfinished Page 12
