Lightning (19 page)

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Authors: Bonnie S. Calhoun

Tags: #JUV059000, #JUV053000, #JUV001010

BOOK: Lightning
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18

T
he rear guards pushed Selah and Cleon behind Bethany. Two more guards fell in line outside the doors to the Historical Antiquities Department. With no possibility of escape, Selah focused her thoughts on seeing her mother and finding a way to free her and Dane, but her plans were tempered with fear for Treva's safety. Would this evil woman make Treva suffer for Selah's actions?

This time Selah recognized the halls back to Bethany's building. Committing them to memory gave her an exit plan if they got free again and a mental exercise that helped calm the chaos within her.

The time from the department to Bethany's offices took exactly five minutes and seven seconds. Selah sucked in a breath when the scorched palm pad came into view. They bypassed that door and turned to another corridor on the right.

Selah stopped short. She knew this doorway and so should Cleon. This lab had held Glade during his incarceration. Here they'd found the unconscious form of Bethany's husband, Noah Everling, and the burnt remains of the man who'd worked for him.

The guard tried to push her forward, but she resisted. What had happened to Noah, the doctor who'd tormented Glade? Selah had only seen his wife since she'd been here.

She got a whiff of that floral scent again. If she lived here and had to smell that every day, it might drive her nuts. A lightning flash crossed her vision. Her mind struggled to focus.

The guard pushed Selah harder. She contained the urge to turn on him since it might endanger her mother, and instead let him push her through the open door.

On the right sat the cell where she'd cried when viewing what she thought were Glade's burnt remains. She hesitated to look in that direction. A banging sound filtered into range. She looked over. Behind the transparent plascine wall, her nine-year-old brother, Dane, his brown eyes wild-looking beneath the darkening mop of blond hair, pounded on the wall with both fists.

Selah's heart beat to bursting. She ran to the wall. “Mother! Dane! Are you all right?” This was the room where fire burst from the walls. She tried to find the control to open the doorway.

Pasha Rishon, in her quiet elegance, strode to the wall and calmly placed her hands flat on the clear plascine, her flowing mane of dark hair set against green eyes and her
lean frame dressed in gray slacks and tunic. She smiled softly. Selah instantly remembered a time when Father had playfully threatened to cut Mother's hair so the horse he was showing at Farm Competition could have an impressive tail.

Selah moved to the spot and placed her hands against her mother's. She barely felt her warmth through the wall. Yet the connection, no matter how slight, brought her a flood of peace. She'd found her mother and little brother at last. She turned to Cleon. A guard held him back with a weapon pressed to his chest.

“Let Cleon come over here,” Selah said, trying to force courage and composure into her voice, though it sounded strangled. She had to remain calm for Cleon and Dane.

Bethany didn't move, and neither did the guards. Selah spun to face them. “Mrs. Everling, if you want me to—”


Dr.
Everling is my official title,” Bethany said with arms crossed.

Selah pressed her lips together. Her defiance bubbled up. “
Bethany
, let my brother come see our family. If you want me to cooperate, let's see you do some of the same.” She fisted her hands on her hips. Where the brashness came from, she didn't know, but she felt like a weight had lifted from her chest.

She turned back to her mother. They communicated with their eyes, and Mother gave her strength.

Bethany shrugged off the demand but directed the guard to let Cleon go to the wall. He hurried over to reach out to Mother and Dane.

“I want time with my mother and brothers.” Selah rubbed Cleon's shoulder and turned back to face Bethany.

“And why do you think you rate special treatment? You've already assaulted me, Chavez, and my guards.”

“Because I've got what you want, and it would go a lot easier for you if I were happy while I was doing it. You wouldn't like me angry.” Selah glared at her.

Bethany turned away to face a console. Selah figured the demand hadn't worked. She'd better get in any greetings before her family disappeared. But as long as she cooperated, their safety would be ensured, and she'd demand proof of it.

Bethany cleared her throat. “Okay, I agree. You can have an hour with your family.”

“And a noontime meal for us?” Selah asked, wanting to stretch the time.

“You don't get that long. A meal will be sent. Immediately afterward we start the extraction.”

A chill crawled down her back. Selah shuddered involuntarily. The feeling came so swiftly it tingled her toes. Did she really hear a humming in her head? She looked around. It sounded like a machine had started, but no one else reacted to the sound.

Selah hugged her mother and brother, then hugged them some more as they ate the meager meal of fruit and bread. She watched Cleon being smothered in little brother giggles and mother kisses. She'd been silently hoping for this day, but at what cost? Knowing the disregard her stepfather had already exhibited, she couldn't think of a single circumstance where this could have turned out differently. Even Varro's mandate—

She stopped. She had just thought of her stepfather as Varro. Did that seem right? This was the man who had raised her since birth.

Dane grabbed Selah around the neck and gave her a big hug. “I missed you something fierce. You left without saying goodbye. Mother said you had important business to attend. Are you coming home now?”

She smiled and tousled his hair, then looked over his head at Mother hugging Cleon, motioning that they needed to talk.

Mother nodded and whispered to Cleon, who turned to Dane. “Hey, shrimp, I missed you. Let's see if you remember the wrestling moves I taught you.”

Cleon and Dane moved off into the back corner, and Mother scooted over to Selah.

With her mother's arms resting around her shoulders, Selah felt a new sense of responsibility. She had to protect them from Bethany . . . and from Varro.

“Mother, what happened after I left? How did you get here?” Selah pressed her head to her mother's shoulder. The familiar herb scent of her special soap comforted her.

Mother didn't answer. Selah sat up. “What's the matter?”

“I'm sorry.” Mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “I dreaded the day I'd have to tell you. I've played it over in my mind a hundred times, and I still don't understand any of this. I don't know why or how long he knew, but Varro and his friends from Waterside were trying to keep you from becoming novarium. They wanted some kind of Protocol to pass from you to your offspring with Jericho Kingston.”

Selah grabbed her mother's hands. “What do you know about the Protocol?”

“Nothing. I've just heard Varro use the term numerous times in his conversations with Simeon Kingston. The man was quite upset about not getting back the dowry he paid for you.”

Selah wanted to blurt out that Varro and Simeon had been part of a murder, but that knowledge might become a bargaining chip if it were truly a secret. “How much did Var—Fa—” Selah squeezed her eyes shut with a sigh and dropped her head.

Mother rubbed the back of Selah's hand. “You can call him Varro. I heard you found Glade, and I'm so happy you did. I'm sure you've decided to call him Father.”

“I hear the caring in your voice when you say his name.”

Mother's eyes moistened. She turned her gaze and took on a faraway look.

Selah smiled softly. At that moment she knew what she wanted to do. “How much did Varro owe for my dowry?” She figured even a reasonable amount could be dealt with. Repayment would smooth all this over.

“Apparently it was a million bio-coin. Varro spent most of it on land and extravagant high-tech farm equipment. He brought us here and made a deal with that evil woman for all the coin he owed plus a bonus.”

Selah gulped in air. There was no reasonable amount anywhere close to that value. The reality of the deal had become clear. This wasn't clan. This was commerce. Dowries were payment. She had come close to being married off to cement a neighboring clan relationship. But in reality, she was being
sold into some strange slavery. How often had that happened to other girls in Dominion?

Bethany swept into the room, followed by four guards. “Okay, your time is up. We have to get you to prep.”

Selah stood in the doorway between their weapons and her family. Cleon moved to her side and put his hand on her shoulder.

Bethany motioned her out.

“Will my family be safe?” Selah stared at Bethany, reading her body-speak.

“As long as you cooperate and don't do anything funny to your blood, we've got an agreement.” Bethany's posture verified she spoke the truth. It also told Selah that Bethany believed her story about being able to manipulate her blood. Bethany's knowledge of novarium was an act. Selah needed more time to create a plan.

“Let's get started.” Selah moved through the doorway. Cleon followed.

Bethany pointed at Cleon. “Not you. Stay in there with your family.”

He started to object.

“It'll be all right.” Selah pushed him back in with Mother and Dane.

It'll be all
right
echoed in Selah's head. The sound stretched and vibrated, each word repeating multiple times, ebbing and flowing like the ocean. Selah tried to concentrate on the surface where she lay. A dizzying wave kept pulling her
mind away. Her stomach lurched. She fought to swallow what little moisture she had in her mouth.
Focus!
Fighting her way back, she latched onto the wave, bringing feeling in her arms until they became solid. Her palms pressed to the cold metal beneath her. She moved her fingers.

Voices talked around her, but the echo made them impossible to understand.
Focus!
She fought frame by frame to quiet the sounds in her head. The only thing that could cause this kind of disorientation was a drug. Selah tried not to panic, and the sense was so dull she almost laughed. That would not be good. They'd know she was conscious.

Feeling returned to her feet. Slight moves of her toes. Now her brain.
One. Two. Three. Say them faster
, faster
. . . Her head cleared. She remained unresponsive, hoping to hear something useful.

“I've got you hooked to bio-machines. I know when you're awake, Selah,” Bethany said from a distance of about five feet.

Selah figured it was now or never. She lunged, straining against the straps holding her arms, legs, and torso to the table. Her eyes flew open. She felt rage . . . but it was too dull and flat to pull a forceful response. Her body betrayed her.

“That's more like it. As you can see, I sort of lied. The liquids you received to replace the blood loss were a drug cocktail I developed for the next generation of clones, which you were also responsible for me losing. So I decided to try it out on you.” Bethany snorted with laughter. “And guess what? It worked. Not like I wanted, but you've been out for an hour, which was more than enough time to get a good harvest of your blood. My team is at work in the lab as we speak.”

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