Project Paper Doll: The Trials (28 page)

“Wait, so you’re saying Justine putting my mom on the news and exposing us was her way of trying to bring us in?” I asked.

Ariane nodded.

“Didn’t she know what they would do?” I asked in disbelief. “That the Committee would hit the panic button?”

“Probably,” Ariane said flatly, then she shrugged. “Maybe. She might not have realized how touchy they’d be, but then again, she might also have been counting on it. She
wanted to force our hand.”

“Even if that got us killed?” I asked incredulously.

“Nothing more effective to prove you’re the better option than to take away all the others,” she said. “Play her way, or die in the street. A remarkably powerful
message.”

“And the sweatshirt, that’s her signature,” I said, slowly putting the pieces together. “She wanted us to see it and know she was behind this.” I stared at Ariane.
“That’s insane.”

“No, it’s manipulative, brazen, and kind of genius,” she said. “She was counting on us being as good as Jacobs and the others claimed in order to stay out of harm’s
way.”

Fat lot of good Adam’s skills had done him. About the same mine would have done me. Which made sense, because the only person Justine was really interested in was Ariane. If I happened to
survive as well, then, bonus. Jesus.

“If we weren’t good enough to stay alive long enough to hear her message, then we likely wouldn’t have been sufficient to meet their needs.” She shrugged. “Or,
that’s probably what she’ll say in her report, anyway.”

Cold, efficient, and daring—all of which matched everything I knew about Justine.

Ariane shook her head. “It doesn’t change anything, though.”

An idea flashed at the back of my brain. “Does that mean if we could get to her, she’d be willing to protect us?” Protect Ariane was really what I meant. And that was something
Justine would have had to consider before yanking the curtains back on this particular sideshow.

After all, it wouldn’t do Justine any good to have manipulated Ariane to her side if she couldn’t keep her safe and, therefore, useful.

Ariane eyed me warily. “It doesn’t matter. Getting out of here without being caught by whoever’s hunting us—”

“But if we could,” I persisted.

“Then, yeah, maybe,” she said reluctantly. “But it would mean throwing ourselves on her mercy. We’d be under her thumb forever.”

“But alive.
We
would be alive.” I hit that word extra hard. Not just me. I wasn’t looking for half measures; I wanted a solution that would get us both out.

Ariane’s shoulders sagged, her face sad and etched with weariness. “You don’t understand,” she said. “Any leverage I might have had by being a needed resource is
gone if I can’t live outside their protection. I would have to do whatever they asked of me, and with that kind of absolute power, it’s only a matter of time before corruption sets
in.”

“But eventually, Jacobs, the Committee, whoever, they’ll have to stop looking,” I pointed out, “and then—”

She reached out as though she would touch my cheek, but then her gaze skittered away from mine and her hand fell away. “Justine, DHS, they would own me, and I wouldn’t be able to say
no.” She shook her head. “I can’t do that again, whether it’s for a few months or years. I won’t.”

“You’d rather die?” I demanded.

“Yes,” she said, and the truth rang out in that single word. She meant it.

“That’s stupid,” I said, frustration getting the better of me.

“No,” she said sharply. “It’s a hard-learned lesson. You want me to believe that I deserve to have my own life, make my own choices. If that’s true, then this
existence is mine now for as long as I have it. I’m not blindly following someone else’s rules, obeying their commands or even giving in to their well-meaning wishes.” Her voice
softened on those last words. “I have to do what I think is best.”

“I’m not asking you to compromise yourself, Ariane,” I said, struggling for patience and trying to make her understand. “But you have to give yourself a chance
to—”

“This is a moot point,” she reminded me. “I don’t think we could get to…”

“…live on the scene at the Manderlay Hotel.” The news, which had continued as a murmur in the background of our argument, suddenly recaptured my attention as that familiar
name registered.

Manderlay Hotel, that was where we’d started this little adventure this morning, which, honestly, felt like years ago.

Ariane, hearing it as well, stopped and swiveled to face the screen.

On the television, a reporter stood in front of a very familiar set of glass doors. She was in front of the west entrance to the hotel, just feet away from where I’d met Ariane this
morning. Flashing red and blue lights behind her, along with an area cordoned off in yellow caution tape, showed she was as close as she was allowed.

“We don’t have much information at this time, Rebecca,” the reporter said to the anchor. “But there are reports of shots fired on the third floor. Also,
interestingly…” She paused, consulting a notebook in her hand. “According to a source inside the hotel, Dr. Arthur Jacobs and Dr. David Laughlin, of GenTex, Inc. and Laughlin
Integrated Enterprises, respectively, are inside, among others.”

“Those would be the companies mentioned in our featured story this evening, ‘Corruption in the Heartland,’” the anchorwoman prompted.

“That’s correct, Rebecca.” The onsite reporter seemed a mix of astonished and gleeful. The story was practically writing itself, high ratings included. “Specifically, the
two individuals whom Ms. Bradshaw has referenced in her account.”

I felt a sudden creeping dread. This didn’t make sense. We were missing something, a key piece of information or a fact that changed everything. And when we missed something, that’s
when things got treacherous. Well,
more
treacherous.

“That’s got to be wrong,” I said. “Right?” I looked to Ariane. “You said they left.”

“They should have,” Ariane said with a puzzled frown. “There is no reason for them to stay. No
good
reason,” she amended.

“You think the Committee decided to take them out, too?” I asked.

“No, they’ll need Jacobs and Laughlin to answer for Mara’s accusations,” she answered, but her voice sounded distant, distracted. She was working it through, trying to
see the pattern, understand the strategy. “To be scapesheep for the government.”

Now I knew she was preoccupied. “Scapegoats,” I said.

She didn’t acknowledge my correction. She moved past me, scooped my hoodie off the floor, and handed it to me.

“Where are we going?” I asked, turning the sweatshirt right side out before putting it on.

She frowned at me before heading toward the main room of the suite. “
You
are following our original plan: head for the nearest police station and identify yourself as Mara’s
missing son in need of protection.”

“While you do what?” I demanded, following her.

“I will provide the distraction, as discussed,” she said, but the caginess of her answer, combined with knowing her as well as I now did, told me all I needed.

I stopped. “You’re going to that hotel, by yourself,” I accused.

She spun around to face me. “If Jacobs and Laughlin are dead…” Her face lit with an unholy determination. “I need to see for myself.”

“No. Hell no,” I added. “I’m going with you.”

Ariane shook her head, her hair falling over her face. She brushed it back impatiently, fumbling for the hair band on her wrist. “There’s still a chance this is a trap, something
designed to lure us back to them.” She pulled her hair up into the sloppy ponytail that I remembered from the months of sitting behind her in math.

But I couldn’t allow myself to get caught up in sentiment at the moment. “If Emerson St. John is inside, I need to find him. Preferably alive,” I said grimly.

Ariane frowned, registering the tension in my tone or perhaps something from my thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

I hesitated. She was going to be so pissed. “Emerson wasn’t done with me. You know that. He had to speed up the process to save my life and to be ready for the trials. But
there’s a tipping point where the body either rejects or accepts the changes going on. It requires monitoring and adjustment. You can’t exactly go cold turkey on this stuff.” I
paused, grimacing in anticipation and memory. “There was a video. Emerson made me watch it so I’d know what I was getting into. There was a rabbit he’d done some testing on. He
let the virus run its course without interference. It died…badly.”

If you could call bleeding out of pretty much every opening of your body for hours something as simple as “dying badly.”

She went very, very still, her eyes dark and wide in her pale face. “Why didn’t you tell me?

“Because what were you going to do? What could you have done differently?” I asked, holding up my hands in defense. “Besides, it wasn’t a guaranteed outcome, so I
didn’t—”

“You should never have done this,” she hissed at me. “You should have stayed home and safe in Wingate. None of this would have happened.”

“Too late now,” I pointed out. “What’s done is done. The only choice now is what to do going forward.” I was actually pretty proud of that last bit. It was exactly
the kind of logic she would have used against me. Never let it be said that I wasn’t learning anything through all of this.

Ariane closed her mouth with an audible click. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with fury and anguish.

“So, to the Manderlay?” I asked with forced brightness.

She didn’t respond.

“I don’t need to go with you,” I reminded her quietly. “I can just go on my own later, as soon as you’re done throwing yourself beneath the wheels of whatever
disaster you can find. If there’s a chance Emerson St. John is still alive, I need him.”

She folded her arms across her chest protectively, and I hated that I’d done that to her, made her close off like that. Then she shook her head. “No, we need a distraction first.
That has not changed.” Her voice was thick, almost guttural in her distress.

But at least she was speaking to me again, and seemingly agreeing to take me with her.

“I need some supplies.” Avoiding my gaze, she pushed past me on her way to the bedroom.

“For the record, I liked ‘scapesheep’ better,” I called after her, trying to lighten the mood.

“Shut up.”

Yep, still angry. That was okay. There was very little in this situation that wasn’t infuriating, one way or another.

Sirens screamed outside, mingling with the fire alarm shrieking overhead as we exited the Ulta lobby and cleared the overhang with the other guests. When Ariane said we needed
a distraction, she wasn’t messing around.

A cavalcade of emergency vehicles roared into view. Fire trucks, police cars, ambulances, a little bit of everything.

With their arrival, everyone around us turned to watch them pull in, whispering among themselves, wondering what was going on.

“Come on.” Ariane tugged at my hand, pulling me after her as she threaded through the crowd, moving away from the safety in its chaotic midst.

When we reached a clear patch of sidewalk, I watched in surprise as Ariane moved to the curb and lifted a hand to hail a cab, like she’d done it a thousand times.

A yellow taxi pulled up next to us within seconds.

“Trouble at the hotel, eh?” the driver said, gesturing at the Ulta as he pulled away.

“Fire alarm,” Ariane said at the same time I said, “Bomb scare.” Technically, it had been a little of both, thanks to Ariane’s scheming and
“supplies.”

The driver frowned at us in the rearview mirror, and Ariane’s mouth tightened with displeasure.

She straightened up in the seat. “We’re switching hotels. The Manderlay, please,” she said with smooth authority.

But the cab driver shook his head vehemently. “No, no, you don’t want to go there today, lady. They got their own trouble at the Manderlay.”

Clearly, he’d heard something over the radio or through his dispatch service.

Ariane stiffened, not expecting the refusal.

“Just get as close as you can,” I said easily. “We’re meeting my uncle over there.”

Ariane held her breath, obviously preparing for further resistance, but the cab driver just shrugged. “Okay.” He started whistling tunelessly, weaving in and out of lanes.

I leaned in next to her. “Breathe,” I said. “We’re fine.”

“In this particular second. Maybe. I still wouldn’t be shocked to hear someone landing on the roof of the cab,” she murmured. “And you’re still not forgiven for
lying to me.”

“I didn’t lie,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

She glared at me. “Fine, for not telling me, which is a form of lying.”

“I don’t think you want to use that argument, do you?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“You know everything about me, everything,” she whispered. “Even the horrible things. Why wouldn’t you tell me about the potential consequences?”

“Because I don’t know for sure what’s going to happen,” I said, exasperated. “And…I knew you’d take it on.” I turned away from her to stare out
the side window. “You’d make my decision your problem, like you always do, and I didn’t want to make things any more complicated.”

“How am I not supposed to take it on when it’s a decision you made because of me?” she demanded.

“It wasn’t just because of you, Ariane,” I said. “Not entirely. I knew the risks, and I wanted what St. John was offering. I could have stopped after the initial
injections, had him try to wean me off instead of trying for stabilization, but I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was a chance to be more, to finally be good enough,” I said a little too loudly, losing my grip on my frustration. “So I took it, and now I’ll have to live
with whatever happens.” My mouth twisted in a strained smile. “Or not.”

She didn’t like that answer. Ariane turned her head away from me, staring silently out the side window for the rest of the trip.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up near the Manderlay, finding a scene similar to what we’d just left behind. The front entrance was cordoned off with police caution tape, with uniformed
officers patrolling the line. Emergency vehicles occupied the turnaround and the street out front. One news crew was already stationed as close to the tape as possible, with two others pulling
equipment out of their trucks.