My mother. Dizziness swirled in my head.
I sat forward in my chair. “Is she still alive?” It hadn’t escaped my notice that the photo was old. What’s her name? That question I managed to keep to myself. He’d never share that information; it would give away his bargaining position. If I had her name, I could find her and ask her all the questions that were suddenly bubbling up in my brain. I wasn’t musical in the slightest—was that a deficit from my human side, or something I’d inherited from alien ancestors? Were my long, thin fingers hers? How about the annoying tendency to get the hiccups after a meal with too much sugar?
When you’re created in a lab, it’s like existing in a void, no sense of connection to a larger world or family. I liked the color green because…I liked green. There was no one to tell me that perhaps that my affection for that hue had come from an early incident in childhood or even a genetic predisposition.
I wanted to snatch the folder from Dr. Jacobs’s hand and examine every detail of the photo, but I restrained myself. It would only give him more leverage if he knew how badly I wanted information.
“107, I generally don’t make it my business to keep track of former employees who behave themselves and obey their nondisclosure agreements,” he said with exaggerated patience.
I relaxed slightly, even though the ramifications of his words were still sinking in, leaving behind a dull hurt. My mother, then, had been a willing participant. And she had walked away from me. Why? Had she been sorry? Or was she more concerned about how quickly GTX’s check would clear?
I hated how much I wanted, no, needed to know.
“But making an exception this time seemed prudent,” Jacobs added with a glint in his eye that I recognized too well.
So she was alive and he knew where she was. “You’re threatening her,” I said flatly.
“You think so little of me,” he said, and tsked at me. “I could certainly find and threaten her, but I prefer to think of it as an inducement. The carrot instead of the stick. Behave yourself and perhaps I will tell you more about her. Maybe even set up a meeting, a chance encounter, of course. She could never know who you are,” he added with a casual dismissive wave.
The corollary, then, would be what would happen if I didn’t “behave.”
I felt sick, my head swimming from the picture, the threats, and the roller coaster of my own emotions from the last few hours.
“I just want to make sure you’re very clear on what’s at stake, 107,” he said almost gently, the blustering furor of a few minutes ago gone. “Not just for me or for the company. If you follow my instructions and do your best tomorrow, it’ll be beneficial for others besides yourself.”
If one could consider “beneficial” to be defined as surviving, unharassed and untortured, I suppose that were true. I knew nothing of this woman. Maybe she deserved everything Jacobs could rain down on her. She’d left her child to a laboratory and a lifetime of experimentation. But…how much had she actually known about what she was doing? Jacobs lied as easily as he breathed. And even if she’d been aware of the truth, who was I to argue with her actions when I knew exactly how manipulative this man could be when it came to getting what he wanted?
Either way, I owed her the benefit of the doubt. All I knew for certain was that this woman had participated in an experiment almost two decades ago. She’d probably moved on long ago. Maybe she had other children of her own. A garden. A job. A life. And I’d be the one who, indirectly, would destroy all of that.
Dr. Jacobs was such an asshole. Unfortunately, in the way of this world, that did not also make him wrong.
“I understand,” I said, my voice thick.
And I did. My choices were as ugly as ever. To win the trials, I’d have to kill the target, a girl who might very well be as innocent as she looked. It was, after all, a test, not just of my capabilities but also of my obedience. And if I didn’t do as I was ordered, I’d lose the slim chance to stop the Project Paper Doll program, and the woman who was my mother, for better or worse, would feel the repercussions of my rebellion.
“I knew you would,” Dr. Jacobs said with a smug smile as he closed the folder and stepped back, and my fury, long held in restraint, slipped its leash.
I lifted my hand and stopped him dead. My power wrapped around him from the knees down, holding him in place.
Even with his knowledge of my capabilities, Jacobs reacted as most humans did: looking down at his legs as if they’d suddenly been removed from his ownership, which they had, in effect.
Then he glared at me, his jaw clenched tight. “I could call for the guards.” But his face was pale. He didn’t like me holding him. Too damn bad.