The Rose Ransom (Girls Wearing Black: Book Three) (6 page)

As she looked at him, she
remembered a scene from her memory—a traitor to the clan, roasted on a spit in
Daciana’s backyard.

And look at me now
, she
thought
. A new traitor to the clan, cooked in the oven like…

It was a single line of flame,
right through the center of the floor. That’s why Dominic looked like a shish
kabob. His body lay over the centerline of the flame, which started above his
skull and continued beyond the ashy remains of his feet.

She reached down and wrapped her
fingers around the metal grate beneath her. She saw the smoke coming from her
hand, but she didn’t feel the pain. Her nerves were already dead. With what
little strength she had left, she pulled.

A square panel of the grate came
loose. She couldn’t see underneath. Too hot. Too bright with flame. But she
knew what was down there. The flames burned in a straight line under Dominic’s
body because there was a single gaspipe running the length of the floor. This
furnace had the same design as the oven her father bought from the Sears
Roebuck catalog in 1933.

She had a vision in her head of
what she would do, but she had no idea what would happen when she did it. Her
thought process was simple.
This furnace is a contraption. Contraptions
break if you hit them hard enough.

She didn’t think about the gas
running through the iron pipe below. She didn’t think about the way hot air
expanded, how the furnace was designed for a maximum air pressure.

With a single downward thrust,
she smashed the metal grate onto the iron pipe, and it cracked. Gas came
pouring out like dragon’s breath, becoming an explosive fireball that lifted
Renata from the ground ,threw her hard into the ceiling….

And blasted the door open.

Renata was a melting, oozy mess
when she crawled out of there, but she made it, and when she collapsed on the
floor outside, with smoke and fire pouring out of the open furnace behind her,
she was seconds away from death.

But the healing began right
away.

Dominic’s slave, a boy no more
than fourteen, clearly not programmed for this, stood by and watched as
Renata’s organs healed, her skin regrew, and her life force came back. She was
naked when she stood up.

The boy looked at her.

“Go in and cook yourself, like
you tried to cook me,” Renata commanded.

Without a word, the boy walked
past Renata and into the fire.

Her own phone having turned to
ash, she had to use the land line at the Farm to call Falkon.

“Change of plans,” she said. “I
won’t be leaving tonight.”

“Your visit with Dominic took
longer than expected?” Falkon said.

“Yes. And he never did tell me
where the file was.”

“Ah well. I have no doubt you’ll
find it eventually. Do you know where to look?”

“There are a thousand slaves
here,” Renata said. “I’m sure they’ll be happy to look around for us. I expect
to be on a plane tomorrow with the file in-hand. You will have the girl waiting
for me when I arrive.”

“Yes. A crew is on the way to
the airport now.”

“And no one looks in her mind
before I get there.”

“You have my word, Renata. You
will be the first to get a look at Nicky Bloom.”

Nicky and Ryan sat together in a
queen-sized bed at the back of a private jet. A movie blared on a 50-inch
screen that hung on the opposite wall of the plane.

Speedboats, motorcycles, and
explosions—that’s what the movie was to Nicky. She could hear it, but she
wasn’t watching it.

Her face was pressed close to
Ryan’s. A kiss. A glance. Another kiss. All the nerves and jitters that
occupied them both after the Date Auction had passed, and now there was only each
other. The two of them headed out for a week-long date.

Nicky didn’t know what she was
doing. And she didn’t care. Ryan had that effect on her.

She was going to tell him the
truth. Whether the Network liked it or not, Ryan Jenson’s ten million dollar bid
made him a part of their plan. When Sergio was dead and the mission was
complete, everyone who was close to Nicky Bloom would be a suspect. Ryan’s name
would be first on the list, and Nicky would be damned if she’d just disappear
one night in the spring and leave him behind to sort out the pieces.

“Something’s on your mind,” Ryan
said. “What is it?”

I should tell him now
,
she thought.

The noise of the aircraft
engines made it impossible for their conversations to be recorded. There were
no security cameras. There was no place for an eavesdropper to hide. The lone
stewardess who accompanied them on their flight was in her quarters at the
front of the plane where she would stay unless they rang the bell for her to
come. And the pilots were sealed off in the cockpit.

They were alone.

“You made an offer to me at the
Homecoming Masquerade,” Nicky said. “We were dancing, and you asked me to walk
out the door with you and never come back.”

Ryan pulled away, and for the
first time since takeoff, his lips weren’t within striking range.

“Where would we go?” Nicky
continued. “You know…if I took you up on your offer.”

“Are you being serious?” Ryan
said. “I don’t want to talk about this if you aren’t being serious.”

“I am totally serious,” Nicky
said. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Well, I don’t know, we’re going
to Italy now. What if we...”

He didn’t finish. He turned his
head away and blew air out from his lips.

“What is it?” Nicky said.

“This all feels too familiar,
Nicky. You and me together, talking like this…”

“Ryan, I--”

“When you showed up at the
Masquerade wearing a black dress I swore to myself that I would never trust you
again,” Ryan said.

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“I mean…first you’re this new
girl at school that no one’s paying any mind to, and we’re going to lunch and
we’re hitting it off, then you’re one of the girls wearing black, then you’ve
got this thing with Art--”

“I never had a thing with Art.”

“I know it wasn’t real, Nicky. I
know you have to play the game like all the other girls wearing black. But that’s
why I don’t trust you. How do I know this isn’t just another game? How do I
know you’re not saying what I want to hear because I’m part of some big master
plan of yours?”

“It’s not like that, Ryan.”

“Then what is it like? You just
said I don’t know the half of it. Tell me what it is!”

His eyes were locked on hers as
he spoke, and she knew.
We’re safe here. We’re about to have a week together
where we can work this out. He can ask me questions. He can think this through
without all the pressures of home. Tell him now. Tell him now, Nicky.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said.
She was surprised at how nervous she was. “First, crank up the volume on the
TV, just in case.”

Ryan had a puzzled look on his
face at first, but then he figured it out. He was turning up the TV in case
there were any electronic eavesdroppers in this plane. Nicky was about to tell
him something good.

Right as he reached for the
remote control, the plane hit an air pocket, and his arm swayed the wrong
direction, sweeping the entire contents of the end table to the floor. The
remote, the empty popcorn bowl, and four soda cans fell to the floor.

“W’oh,” Ryan said. “That
one’s—oh my word how many of those cans are open?”

Soda was gushing all over the
floor, four open cans scurrying around the cabin like mice. One of them rolled
all the way to the other end and slammed on the door to the flight attendant’s
quarters.

A bell rang and the flight
attendant came over the intercom in the wall behind them

“Hey you two, is everything
alright out there?” the flight attendant said.

Ryan pressed the button under
the intercom and replied, “We’re fine. Just spilled some soda. No need to--”

Before he could finish his
sentence, the door opened and the flight attendant, a blonde bombshell named
Heather, came out with a roll of paper towels.

“Really, you don’t have to worry
about that,” Ryan said. “I can get it.”

“Nonsense,” said Heather,
already getting on her hands and knees. “You two just stay comfortable and
pretend I’m not here.”

Ryan and Nicky sat in silence, as
if gauging how long they would have company in the cabin. When Heather pulled a
spray bottle out of an overhead compartment, Nicky excused herself and went to
the lavatory. She didn’t need to go, but she figured now was as good a time as
any to tell the Network what she intended to do. She pushed the lock closed on
the lavatory door, took out her phone, and started a message for Jill and Gia.

We need to bring Ryan into
the fold. His bid at the Date Auction has complicated things. I’m going to come
clean with him this week. Start preparing an escape plan for him and his
family.

She went to hit the send button
and found it grayed out. Her eyes drifted to the top corner of the screen,
where she saw zero bars.

No reception. She flipped over
to the settings and checked to make sure she was connected to the wireless on
the airplane.

But there was no wireless.
Nothing coming through at all.

She opened the door and stuck
her head out.

“Hey Heather, is the wireless
working?” she asked.

Ryan laughed. “I can’t sit on
the toilet without my phone either,” he said.

“You hush,” Nicky said.

Heather had finished cleaning
the floor and was wiping off the end tables.

“I know. I’m so sorry about
that,” she said. “There are all sorts of problems out there.”

“What do you mean?” Nicky asked.

“I don’t really know,” Heather
said, punctuating the statement with a little giggle. “Something with the
satellites. The pilots aren’t getting all the info they’re used to either.
They’re navigating this flight the old fashioned way.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” said
Ryan.

“It’s fine,” Heather said. “Both
of them did this flight hundreds of times before satellites did all the work
for them.”

“So it’s not a problem on the
plane.”

“That’s what they’re telling me.
Some satellite in outer space is on the fritz. What do you want to bet that
will be an expensive fix?”

She let out another little
giggle.

Nicky was about to press for
even more info. For some reason, Heather’s news about the wireless made Nicky
anxious, and she wanted to ask if they were sure they didn’t need to reboot the
server, or the router, or whatever it was that made the wireless work on the
plane.

“Thanks for your help, Heather,”
Ryan said, using a tone of voice that told Heather it was time for her to
leave.

“You’re quite welcome,” she
said. “Buzz me if you need anything.”

She disappeared behind her door.
Ryan patted the bed with his hand.

“We were having a conversation
I’d really like to continue,” he said.

“Yes. Me too.”

Nicky sat down. She grabbed hold
of Ryan’s hand and leaned close so they could speak quietly.

“The truth,” she said.

“The truth. I am so ready to
hear the truth.”

“Geez, where do I even begin?”

“How about about at the
beginning?”

The beginning seemed like a
ridiculous place to Nicky. But they were on a transatlantic flight with hours
to go. Maybe starting at the beginning would give this story enough context
that Ryan would actually believe it.

“If we’re starting at the
beginning, you should know that Nicky Bloom isn’t the name I was born with.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Ryan.
“Did this secret consortium Jill keeps talking about give you a new name?”

“Yeah, I suppose they did. But
even they aren’t what they seem—I mean…”

Telling this story was
surprisingly hard. She liked her relationship with Ryan exactly as it was right
now. She liked how he looked at her, how he kissed her, and she wondered if
those things would change when he knew the truth.

“Let me try again,” Nicky said.
“My real name is Celeste Nicole Allen.”

“So Nicky’s taken from your
middle name.”

“Nicky is what everyone’s called
me for as long as I can remember.”

“And how long is that?” Ryan
said. The question was meant to be playful, but to Nicky it was all too
serious. Her encounter with Sergio before the Date Auction, his insistence that
her recurring dream was based on a real memory, the fact that she her childhood
memories didn’t go back nearly as far as everyone else’s…

“When I was little…how can I say
this? I had a very strange childhood, at least, by Thorndike standards I did.”

“You mean you weren’t always
filthy rich?”

“Far from it, actually. I was a
jackal.”

“A what?”

“It’s a word everybody uses to
describe homeless children. A word they use outside of Washington, that is. You
guys are a little bit removed from what life is like for the rest of the
world.”

“You were homeless?”

“We had a camper. My dad moved
us around a lot.”

“Who’s we? You, your dad, your
mom--”

“Not my mom. I never knew my
mom.”

Ryan’s eyes opened wide.

“Yes,” Nicky said. “The people I
live with in Potomac are not my real mother and father. My real parents are
dead. I don’t know how my mom died. My dad…”

My dad was killed by a
vampire. Just say it, Nicky!

She couldn’t. Something wasn’t
right. Something wasn’t right about any of this.

It was good to tell Ryan. He
deserved to know the danger he was in. He deserved the truth. Why didn’t she
want to tell him?

It was the wireless. As much as
she tried to tell herself the broken wireless on the plane was nothing,
something about it bugged her.