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Authors: Elle Davis

Tags: #romance, #scifi, #fantasy, #young adult, #genetic alteration

Designed to Love (28 page)

BOOK: Designed to Love
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Lawrence warned me that Zane had a strong
,powerful mind, but seeing it in terms of energy is sobering. My
white energy field barely penetrates the thick bluish gray aura
surrounding him so I'm a little surprised when he accepts my simple
suggestion that it's okay to use his first name.

"No, I suppose you can call me Zane," he
says, squirming slightly when Sophia looks at him with
surprise.

Encouraged by his cooperation and slightly
lighter color screening, I try a second time. "Zane, can I see my
family—please!" I plead, once again trying to provoke a positive
answer while holding my energy field around him.

"No, we have you separated for a reason," he
says coldly, getting up to leave.

My confidence falters. "But I'm only asking
for ten minutes," I cry, following him into the living room.

"Nope."

"At least let me call them," I say in
desperation, as he puts his coat on to leave.

He doesn't even bother to turn around when
he says, "I said no—don't ask again."

My energy field dissipates and no matter how
hard I try to project it back around him, only a faint swirl of
white can be seen mixed with his blue gray shield.

"You bastard...!" I shout, as he's about to
walk out the door. He stops with his hand on the doorknob and
slowly turns to face me, his eyes darkening with anger. Had my
reflexes been just a smidgen faster, I might have dodged his hand,
but the force of his slap is enough to knock me backwards and
almost immediately a steady stream of blood drips from my nose.

"Get her a washcloth before blood gets
everywhere," he orders Sophia, before callously walking out the
door.

***

In addition to a fat lip, Zane punishes me
with two days of no outdoor time, the latter by far the hardest to
take. I worried Ronan would be going crazy like me, especially
after receiving the video tape and I was dying to talk to him, so
when Sophia goes out for her daily outing, I risk everything by
unlocking the door and sneaking to the top of the stairs.

"Ronan,"
I
try calling mentally, through the crack in the door. When there's
no response and after repeated attempts, I finally give up and try
Lawrence. To my relief, he connects with me right away.

"Lawrence, you have to
help me. They have our family and they want Claire. I don't know
what to do."

"I've already told you
what you need to do. You have to start by changing
Zane,"
he replies, giving me advice that I don't want to
hear.

"I can't. I tried, and it
got me nowhere. Lawrence, if you know where the others are being
kept, please tell me."

"I'm sorry Cat, I don't
know. In order to have any influence over Zane, you need to be
around him as much as possible. You need to maintain emotional
control at all times. Fear, anger, doubt, and hatred will decrease
your energy. You must always maintain a state of higher energy when
trying to influence him. Remember, you were genetically modified
with an open circuit between your conscious and subconscious mind,
which gives your thoughts and emotions extraordinary power above
and beyond that of a non-modified human. Use that power to the
good, and you will always have it. I must go now, and I don't
expect you to be able to reach me anytime soon. I will contact you
again when I am able."

***

Influencing Sophia to go against Zane's
orders is completely out of the question. His punishment for
disobedience is violence even for seemingly minor offenses. So
instead, I practice my ability to influence her in other ways.

Sorry Sophia, I have to
practice on someone,
I silently apologize as she
finishes doing her third set of sit-ups. To be fair, and not alert
Zane to the unusual behavior, I get down on the floor and do them
with her. She hates to exercise and every few seconds clutches her
stomach, protesting loudly to the silent commands, I'm
giving—commands that she's helpless to ignore. Today is the third
day of indoor isolation and so far, Zane hasn't given Sophia the
okay to let me outside. The exercises serve a dual purpose for me,
occupying my mind in more ways than one. I'm about to plant the
suggestion for her to call Zane and ask if I can be allowed
outdoors when the phone rings, making us both jump.

"It's for you," Sophia says, holding the
phone out to me after a brief exchange with Zane.

"Hello," I answer, hoping he can't hear the
shakiness in my voice.

"Good afternoon, Cataryn," he says, in a
gentlemanly fashion. "I am calling to let you know that you will be
dining with me tomorrow night at six o'clock sharp. Sophia will
blindfold you before you leave the apartment, and you will remain
blindfolded until I remove it. My men will be there to pick you up
at 4:30. Please don't make them wait."

His demands catch me off guard, and I react
blindly, without thinking. "Yeah, well gee, that's a nice gesture,
but I don't dine with psychopaths. Besides, I've had a terrible
headache ever since you hit me, being the spineless coward that you
are. So maybe in another lifetime," I announce calmly, before
hanging up on him. I turn to find Sophia staring at me dumbfounded,
and her face is as white as a sheet. She starts to speak, but is
interrupted when the phone rings for the second time.

To my surprise, he is laughing when I answer
it, but it is short-lived.

"Cataryn, let me make myself perfectly
clear. My requests generally don't come with a clause for refusal.
Being slapped is one of the kinder forms of punishment—just take a
look at Sophia's back if you have any doubts," he says. The threat
of being whipped is nothing compared to his next words. "However, I
won't force you. We can postpone dinner until your headache is
gone, and you've had a few more days of indoor confinement to think
about it," he says matter-of-factly before hanging up on me.

"That was so stupid," Sophia finally
whispers, after we stand there in silence for several minutes.

"Yeah, I know. I've always had a hard time
biting my tongue when I'm mad," I confess, burying my head in my
hands, as my mind races, trying to figure out what to do next.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

RONAN

"What the hell is it with you and water,"
Alisha says, standing at the end of my bed with a stethoscope
around her neck and her hands on her hips. "Do you have a drowning
death wish?"

"What time is it?" I reply with a question
of my own, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind.

"Seven o'clock," she says, cocking her head
to one side as she watches me struggle to sit up.

"I've been out of it for over twelve hours?"
I ask finding it hard to believe.

"No Sunshine—you've been out of it for two
days. We damn near lost you. Even Claire couldn't get your heart
restarted. Thank God Natalie decided to go swimming that morning
and Jason had the portable defibrillator here—I had to use it on
you three times to get you back."

"Wait, did you say two days?"

I start to panic when she nods yes.

"Why did you keep me sedated that long Ali?
I've got to go. I saw Cat. She was with me. She's being held in a
bunker at the Air Force Base. She's probably worried sick that I
haven't come back," I ramble like a maniac, as I frantically search
for my clothes.

Jason comes in and looks at Alisha, "I
better give him another dose," he murmurs.

"I'll break your arm if you try," I
threaten, as he starts to approach me with a syringe, and he
immediately takes a step back. One by one, Elizabeth, Claire,
Brandon and Natalie crowd into my room making me feel like a caged
mountain lion on display.

"I need everybody out of here so I can
remote travel back to the Air Force Base. I was there with her,
Ali," I say, barely able to catch my breath. "I have to find that
Air Force Base. There can only be a handful of abandoned bases with
bunkers. I mean..."

"Already narrowed it down to two," Brandon
says, digging deep in his pocket and pulling out a crumpled piece
of paper, which he holds out to me. "Claire helped me. She said
that the area where she's remote traveled to has snow, which helped
narrow it down quite a bit, then we went online and reviewed aerial
shots of the rest. These are the two that Claire thought matched
the description the best."

"Glasgow Air Force Base and Marks Air Force
Base," I read out loud.

"One's in Montana and one's in Alaska. I can
have the plane ready in an hour if you want to fly over," he says
excitedly.

"Whoa, Brandon—he's not getting on an
airplane. In case you've forgotten, he almost died on us," Alisha
immediately protests, supported by Jason and Elizabeth, who equally
express their concern.

"I need to contact Cat first and give her a
heads up..."

"Sure—why don't you just pick up the phone
and call her," Alisha says sarcastically.

"No need to Ali. She communicates just fine
telepathically—at least when she's out of the bunker. Oh, and by
the way, she's a Designer," I say, enjoying the look of shock on
her face when I drop the bombshell. "In fact, not only is she a
Designer, but Lawrence says she's the Golden GEM, not Claire." I
start to relay my experience with seeing Cat outside the bunker and
the memory of my conversation with her comes flooding back to me. I
am midway through the story when something recalled stops me
cold.

"Did we get a package in the mail?" I ask,
my voice wavering as I slowly meet Alisha's gaze. She must sense
something amiss because her sky blue eyes instantly show concern.
She crinkles her forehead in concentration as if trying to
remember.

Brandon speaks up. "Yeah, I went into town
and got the mail yesterday. I think I did see a small package. I
didn't open it or anything. All of the mail is still sitting in the
mud room."

I slowly pull my shirt over my head, and
look down at Claire who's studying me intently. "I heard you helped
save my life, Squirt. I owe you," I say holding out my hand for a
high five, trying to change the subject. Cat's right when she says
Claire's the most perceptive six-year-old on the planet—nothing
gets past her. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when she says,
"What's in the package Ronan?"

***

The small nondescript package could have
easily gone unnoticed in the stack of mail that routinely sits on
the counter for a week or more before anyone bothers to open it,
and I can feel my hands tremble as I reach in and pull out a DVD,
labeled URGENT in big bold letters.

"Maybe we should call Bernie," Jason says,
and cringes when there's a resounding "NO!" voiced by the rest of
us.

I hand the DVD over to Brandon, and he
slides it into the DVD player, pushing the play button before
joining us on the couch. Elizabeth protectively wraps her arms
around Claire as if to shield her from the images, something we all
debated on whether or not she should be allowed to see. It was
settled that we would preview the tape first, but Claire challenged
us all when she smartly reminded us, "I can either; break the TV or
remote travel in here and watch it with you anyway."

There is no prelude or ominous message
preceding the soundless footage that begins with Cat, moving about
the underground bunker. The girl shown with her is the same that I
saw sitting on the bench outside. They seem to get along well
enough with no signs of tension or abuse and the video, if
anything, provides a measure of relief to both Claire and I. The
next images aren't so comforting. Although they don't look anything
like the family photo's I've seen, I know instantly that it's a
gaunt and frail version of Mr. and Mrs. McCullough. Claire confirms
it for everyone else when she says in a small voice, "Mommy!
Daddy!" She fights hard not to cry, even biting down on her stuffed
dog Hannah, but eventually I look down to find a steady stream of
tears rolling down her cheeks. It's pretty heavy stuff for even an
adult, let alone a six-year-old girl who has already gone through
the trauma of burying her parents and may have to do it all over
again. Images of my parents are shown next. Just like the
McCulloughs they are being held in separate bunkers. Other than
their apparent isolation, there is no evidence of harm to either
one of them. I silently make a vow to find them and bring them home
along with my wife.

It isn't until footage of Alisha's mom and
sister appears on the screen, that the eerily quiet room erupts
with emotion. Alisha's screams of pure rage, followed by cries of
anguish, sorrow, and happiness, cover the spectrum of human
emotions, something every Designer in the room feels right along
with her. She is subdued only when the sound of a faceless man with
a British accent is broadcasted on the video, proudly claiming
responsibility for a successful mission in executing the brilliant
kidnappings of our family members.

"We have been tracking each of you for
years, and a reliable source has provided me with insights to each
of your specific talents."

"Michael," Alisha mutters, shaking her head
in regret. "That son of a bitch, when I get my hands on him..."

Elizabeth blinks back tears, the hurt of
betrayal apparent.

"There are a few assignments that you will
complete and if successful, could mean the release of a cherished
family member or two. Should at any time, you decide to abandon the
missions, go to the authorities, or interfere in any way—your
family members will pay the price. Let me demonstrate." The screen
goes gray with interference for a few seconds, then the cries along
with footage of a young man tied to a post, being whipped across
his bare back, are flashed across the screen.

"NO!" Claire wails, arms outstretched to the
TV. Elizabeth immediately jumps up and carries her out of the room,
followed by Jason. Her screams can be heard throughout the
19,000-square-foot estate.

BOOK: Designed to Love
10.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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