DR. JACOBS SIGHED LOUDLY when he saw me sitting on the edge of the cot, still not wearing my uniform.
Hours had passed since Mark Tucker’s visit, I was pretty sure. The lights had grown brighter—the daytime setting—some time ago, so it was probably early Saturday morning by now. I hadn’t moved except to draw my knees up to my chest to combat the chill of the air system kicking into higher gear.
“107, while I appreciate your determination, which will serve you well in future—” Jacobs began.
“Were you telling the truth?” I asked, my voice raspy from disuse and lack of sleep. I’d been waiting for him, to ask this. “What you said to Mark, I mean. About my immune system and maybe saving people who are sick.” I hadn’t been able to shut off the thoughts circling in my brain.
Dr. Jacobs stopped, and closed his mouth with an audible click. Then he gave a forced laugh. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he managed to slip in here and talk to you.”
I waited.
He cocked his head to one side, eyeing me. “Would that make a difference to you?”
Oh no, I wasn’t falling for that. “Is it true?” I persisted, my chest tight.
“I have always been honest with you—”
“If not particularly specific,” I shot back. That was always his loophole. I hadn’t forgotten who I was dealing with.
He ignored my slam. “—so, yes, the research is promising. But we need the funds from the military for additional work, and for that, we have to win at the trials. Trials you are not qualified for yet.”
I didn’t even want to know what constituted being “qualified.”
Shivering, I hugged my knees closer. If he was telling the truth about the research, then suddenly everything I wanted seemed so much smaller and insignificant. Who was I to put my dreams and wishes ahead of those who were just trying to survive?
“But 107, the most important thing is for you to accept who you are, to live up to your potential. You are a miracle of human ingenuity and scientific development.” He sounded way too pleased with himself for his role in said miracle.
Yuck.
“You weren’t created for high school, dates, and football games,” he said with disdain.
My mind instantly flashed back to those heated moments in Zane’s truck, and a blush spread across my face. How much had GTX seen?
“You are meant for so much more,” Jacobs continued. “To use your skills, take down the enemy, save lives. This is who you are.”
I stood up and crossed closer to the window wall. “You mean, someone who blindly follows orders, jumps at the command of whoever is holding my leash, and hurts or kills people without compunction, including other hybrids like me?” I asked. “That’s what you really mean, isn’t it?”
His mouth tightened. “Mark talks too much.”
“I assume it’s true, then.” I folded my arms.
Jacobs waved away my words impatiently. “None of that matters right now. Everything I’m asking you to do at this moment is something you’ve done before.” He leaned closer to the wall and stared me down as if he could will me into action. “Change your clothes. Kill the mouse. Baby steps, 107. That’s all.”
Yeah, and if I let him, he’d baby-step me right into Hell.
I returned to my cot.
He sighed. “You know I can make this painful for you.”
I swallowed hard. I did know that. All too well. And it might not even be torture for torture’s sake, but simply more medical tests. Those were bad enough.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand why you’re fighting this.”
“Because fighting is the only thing I have left,” I snapped. Whatever pain he inflicted on me would still be less than what I’d feel the second I gave in.
“If I opened the door to your room right now, where would you go?” he demanded. “Who would be looking for you? Who would be happy to see you?”
His words struck deeper wounds than I glared at him. “The Rules—”
“Oh yes, the Rules limited your life so severely.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you honestly believe that’s true? That if you’d suffered no such restrictions, your human life would be full of friends and loved ones?”
I opened my mouth to argue.
He tsked at me. “Do you think I don’t know how hard it was for you to blend in? To adjust, to fit in?”
I felt the truth of his words sink in, but I shook my head. “Because I was afraid to stand out,” I protested. “I thought you were hunting me—”
“That wasn’t the only reason, and you know it,” he said quietly. “You don’t belong in that world, and you must have felt that every day of the last ten years, whether you’re willing to admit it or not.”
To my horror, my eyes welled with tears. “You should know; you made me this way,” I choked, my vision blurring.
“I do know,” he said in an almost gentle tone. “And that’s why I’m telling you. You belong here with us, 107, doing what you were created to do.”
Another tech appeared behind him, holding out what appeared to be a cell phone. Dr. Jacobs snapped off the intercom and turned to hear whatever the man had to say.
I took the opportunity to twist around on my cot so Dr. Jacobs couldn’t see me blinking rapidly to keep from crying.
My head was spinning, and I was so tired and suddenly unsure. Why was I resisting? My outside life was a lie. And he was right: there was nothing—and no one—to go back to. What was the point?
I sniffled, trying to take a deep breath and clear my thoughts. My whole life I’d been caught between two sides—emotional against logical, human vs. other—warring inside me. And as I sat there, I realized that for the first time ever, they were dangerously close to agreeing.
Surrender now, and survive to fight another day. If you push too hard, he might decide you’re not worth the effort, logic whispered.
You could help people, my emotional side urged. Maybe not in the way he wants, but if you can save one person from what happened to the real Ariane Tucker…
“No,” I whispered.
“What, my dear?” Jacobs returned to the intercom, though he sounded distracted.
I turned to face him. “No,” I said, raising my voice even as the sheer weight of hopelessness descended upon me. I still wanted a life of my choosing. I couldn’t change that, even if it would be better for me to forget it and do as I was told.
Dr. Jacobs didn’t respond right away, more focused on the cell phone than my refusal.
He looked up with a distant smile. “Well, clearly, more incentive will be required.”
Incentive. I tensed. What did he mean by that? Nothing good.
“Fortunately, I believe I’m in a position to get exactly what we need, and soon.” He waved the phone at me with an all-too-pleased expression.
Panic lit up my insides. Who was on that phone? My fath…Mark Tucker? Zane?
“Wait. Wait!” I shouted, lurching off the cot as though I could follow.
But Dr. Jacobs ignored me and charged out of the observation room, into whatever lay beyond it, leaving only a gape-mouthed tech staring after him in his wake.
I HADN’T BEEN SURE if Rachel would actually follow through on her promise to get me into GTX, even after I’d gotten her text midafternoon:
Tonight. 9pm. Pick u up.
But now, just moments from arriving at GTX, I had to admit that it seemed like she might really be intending to do exactly what she’d said.
“I could have just met you there,” I said, resisting the urge to hold the handle above the door as Rachel took the turn onto the GTX campus a little too fast. Of course, driving myself would have meant sneaking the truck out too, which would have made things more difficult. But it might have been safer.
“Are you kidding? I’m not missing a second of this,” she said with grim smile.
Right. Being there to witness Ariane’s humiliation and my belated realization that I’d been completely and utterly wrong was the only reason Rachel was going along with this.
I turned away and watched the light from the street disappear as we wound our way deeper into the heavily wooded GTX property. The company was backed up to a forest preserve, creating the illusion of a small city rising up out of nowhere.
I’d been to GTX a few times on field trips in grade school, but tonight the sprawling complex looked even bigger than I remembered. Most of the lights were off, so it appeared to be this hulking indefinable mass barely detectable in the darkness. A sleeping monster.
Rachel’s name and attitude got us past the guardhouse, to the parking garage, and into the main building, but when we crossed the expansive and fancy lobby—as in marble floors and a gold statue of Dr. Jacobs in a water fountain—to the elevator bank, we ran into trouble.
Rachel passed up the two standard elevator doors for a smaller one on the far side. The entrance was guarded by only one guy behind a desk, though he was certainly big enough to be two. Dude was dressed in the standard black GTX security uniform, and it looked like they’d stitched together two uniforms to make his. The nameplate on the tiny-by-comparison desk indicated his name was Joey.
I slowed down, but Rachel was not the slightest bit intimidated. She marched past him to stand in front of the elevator and then looked over at him with an impatient huff. “Push the button already.”
Oh, boy.
But the mountain named Joey seemed unconcerned. “That’s Dr. Jacobs’s private elevator.”
“Yes, I know,” she said with exaggerated slowness. “Do you know who I am?”
He shrugged one enormous shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Dr. Jacobs doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
“Call him,” she said, her hand on her hip. She’d changed for our nighttime adventure into jeans and a red tank top with a gold scarf tied around her neck. With her huge, expensive-looking bag slung over her shoulder and her toe-tapping impatience, she looked every inch the privileged granddaughter of the CEO.
And still Joey wasn’t going for it. “No,” he said flatly.
“Uh, Rachel, maybe we should just…” I began.
She glared at me and then turned her attention back to Joey. “Call him. He’s expecting us.”
“He’s what?” I asked, stunned.
With a skeptical expression, Joey picked up the phone and punched a few buttons.
“Your grandfather is expecting us?” I whispered.
“Of course,” Rachel said, exasperated. “How else did you think we were going to get where we needed to go? It’s classified or top secret or something. They’re not putting her up in a conference room with the accounting department.”
Oh, this couldn’t be good. I’d envisioned sneaking in, maybe stealing a few minutes alone with Ariane, making sure she was okay. And for a moment or two I might have even entertained the fantasy of getting her out, like hiding her in a cart of laundry or something.
(Okay, so clearly, escape plans are not my forte.)
But a documented, official visit, one that other people would be aware of ? I wasn’t counting on that, and the ramifications that it would bring, mainly in the form of making my dad really, really pissed.
Joey put the phone down with a loud clack, catching our attention. “Dr. Jacobs says you can go up,” he said with a frown.
I kind of felt the same.
Joey pushed a button and the doors opened, revealing an interior that looked more like something out of a fancy house than a corporation—heavy carpeting, shiny wood walls, and the smell of money.
Rachel sailed ahead, and I followed slowly. Some part of me was screaming that I should just forget it and get out now. But I’d come this far, and another chance in the future seemed pretty damn unlikely. Rachel would lose interest, and I’d lose her as my access point.
The doors closed silently, and we began moving upward with barely a jolt.
The elevator doors opened onto hallway filled with more of the same luxury. Plush carpeting, polished wood walls, and artwork in gold frames.
Rachel moved with confidence to the double doors at the end of the hall with me a step or two behind her.
She pushed open the doors and stood back to let me in. A massive desk stood in front of a wall of windows overlooking the dark GTX park. Two smaller chairs huddled before it, similar to the “you’re in trouble” seats in the principal’s office. A leather couch sat on a thick Oriental rug. Dr. Jacobs was nowhere to be seen (except in the form of a portrait hanging over a well-stocked minibar).
Rachel flopped onto the sofa and stretched out with a casual disregard for the expensive leather beneath her heels.
“Now what?” I asked, stuffing my hands into my pockets and fighting the urge to pace.
“We wait,” she said with a shrug.
In the hallway, the elevator chimed and we both looked in that direction. Rachel sat up quickly and swiveled to sit in a more formal position.
Heavily padded footsteps sounded for a few seconds before Dr. Jacobs pushed through the half-open doors. He spotted his granddaughter immediately. “Rachel, sweetheart. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Then he looked at me, a curious, evaluating expression passing over his face. “You must be Zane.”
“Yes, sir.” I stepped up and offered my hand.
He shook it. “Jay Bradshaw’s youngest,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Does your father know you’re here?”
I hesitated. “Not yet.”
He laughed as if this were the funniest thing he’d heard all day.
I winced. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I was missing something. This was way too easy.
“So, what can I do for you on this fine evening?” he asked, sounding almost giddy as he moved to pour himself a drink.
I hesitated. If Rachel was to be believed, it was not Ariane’s father who was primarily responsible for her existence and her capture tonight, but rather the man standing in front of me. Choosing the right words would be important.
I fought against a swell of helplessness. This was so much more Quinn’s area, or my dad’s. “Well, uh, sir, I was hoping that it might be possible to—”
“He’s in love with your pet,” Rachel interrupted with a mocking smile.
I glared at her.
“Well, you are.”
I should have known that working with her was a bad idea.
But Jacobs didn’t seem angry or annoyed. He paused with the glass on the way to his lips. “Really?” he asked, intrigued. “I was given to understand your interactions with her had their basis in a prank.” He leveled a look at Rachel, who shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
“Yeah, in the beginning, but…” I paused, mindful of Rachel’s hawklike attention to my every word. “I’d just like to see her. Please,” I added.
Rachel snorted.
Dr. Jacobs put his glass down on the minibar, below the painting of himself wearing a stern but paternally fond expression. “Well, certainly. I’m glad she has friends.”
I stared at him. “What?” This was not the captor-captive dynamic I’d been expecting.
“I am not her friend,” Rachel said sharply at the same time.
Dr. Jacobs smiled at me. “She’s not a prisoner here. It’s for her own good.”
Except, how many bad, bad things had happened to people under the label of “for your own good”? I knew of a few in my life alone.
“We tried introducing her to fully human society,” Dr. Jacobs added, “but you saw how well that turned out.”
Fully human…The words echoed in my head. Meaning what? Ariane wasn’t?
“Come on. This way,” he said cheerfully, leading us out into the hall.
I hung back a bit as Dr. Jacobs called the elevator. Something was wrong here. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, other than that he seemed blissfully unconcerned with our presence at GTX and our interest in something that had to be classified.
“This isn’t right,” I whispered to Rachel. It shouldn’t have been this easy. We hadn’t signed any papers or even promised to stay quiet. I mean, maybe Dr. Jacobs was counting on Rachel’s family loyalty, but what about me?
He must have had something in mind. I had no idea what that might be, and I did not like the feeling.
“No kidding,” Rachel said bitterly. “Did you hear the way he talks about her? He’s never that interested in me.”
Not exactly where I’d been going with that, but okay.
The elevator doors opened, and Dr. Jacobs stepped in, Rachel on his heels with her arms sullenly crossed. After a moment, I followed. I was just getting this sudden overwhelming premonition that I didn’t want to go where this elevator would take me. And that maybe, somehow, nothing would be the same when I came back up. I wasn’t stupid; being an inconvenient witness who asked too many questions might prove to be a fatal condition. I probably wasn’t the easiest person to dispose of quietly, given my dad’s job, but I wasn’t sure enough of that to completely rule out the possibility.
I swallowed hard as Dr. Jacobs inserted a key into the elevator panel and the doors closed.
Too late to worry now.
It seemed to take forever before we slowed in our descent and then stopped. The elevator doors opened onto a blindingly white hallway, as sterile as the one upstairs had been plush.
Without another word, Dr. Jacobs stepped off the elevator and exited into the too-bright hall. I could see a large opaque glass door with a couple of steps leading down to it. Closer to the elevator, an open doorway loomed on the right, with the low sounds of conversation and a rhythmic beeping coming from within.
“Come along.” Dr. Jacobs headed toward the open doorway.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see inside the room. Some kind of prison cell with Ariane behind metal bars, maybe. Instead, this room resembled a high-tech lab. It was filled with equipment, computers, monitors, printers—a dozen or more things beeping and humming all at once.
Two harried-looking lab techs in white coats looked up, startled.
“Sir—” one of them began, frowning at Rachel and me.
Jacobs waved the tech’s concern away. “Go. Now,” he ordered. “Close the door after you.”
After a second of hesitation, both techs pushed away from their computers and left the room.
Once the door closed after them, Dr. Jacobs turned to us with an eager smile. “Do you want to see her?” His hand hovered over a panel at the front of the room. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the wall seemed to be made of glass painted white. Or something… It had a glossy sheen to it.
“I know she’ll want to see you,” he continued.
“Yes,” Rachel snapped.
“No,” I said at the same time, my attention caught by a set of monitors to Dr. Jacobs’s right. I stepped closer for a better look.
The bottommost flat screen showed a small white room with a cage containing a small animal—a mouse or a hamster maybe—on a little running wheel, and a cot on the right-hand side. A girl sat on the cot, her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. It took me a second to recognize her as Ariane. She seemed so much smaller due to the overhead angle of the camera and the white prison-type uniform she wore. If she’d been easy to miss at school, she was damn near invisible here. Her pale blond hair looked darker, damp maybe, and stuck to the sides of her face. It made the point of her chin and angles of her cheeks strikingly prominent and distinctly strange.
“Fascinating,” Dr. Jacobs said near my ear, making me jump in surprise. I hadn’t heard him approach.
“She must care for you a great deal.” He looked at me with renewed interest. “She changed her clothes,” he explained with some excitement, as if that should mean something to me. Then he squinted at the screen again. “But,” he said with a sigh, “it appears the mouse is still alive.”
I gaped at him, having absolutely no idea what to do with that nonsensical statement.
“She knows we’re here,” Jacobs whispered, sounding delighted.
Glancing back at the monitor, I found Ariane standing up and staring directly into the camera. My heart stuttered in my chest. The wide darkness of her eyes shocked me. I was used to seeing them as the murky blue of her contacts. There didn’t appear to be any difference between the irises and the pupils—all dark.
“She must be quite tuned in to your thoughts,” Dr. Jacobs said.
I didn’t know what to say. “She can hear what I’m thinking?” I immediately tried to reconstruct everything I’d been thinking in her presence over the last few days. Oh God. My face burned in embarrassment, thinking about what she might have “overheard.”
“Not all the time,” he said, as if I’d asked something absurd. “It would be far too overwhelming for her human side.”
There it was again: that strange emphasis on the word “human.” If she wasn’t human, what was she?
“But strong thoughts or emotions come through clearly.” Dr. Jacobs cocked his head to one side, frowning at me. “Exactly how close are you to my girl?”
Just the way he said that was skeevy, too interested, and I shuddered. Ariane…how bad was it for her to be trapped here with him?
“Enough talking,” Rachel snapped. “Let’s get this freak show on the road.”
Before anyone could say anything, she pushed forward and punched the button Dr. Jacobs had indicated earlier.
I sucked in a breath, not sure what would happen, and the wall in front of us shifted from white to translucent.
And there was Ariane, on the other side of the glass, staring back at us.
ZANE WAS HERE. AND HE WASN’T ALONE. I barely had time to accept that jarring bit of reality before the glass wall flickered and went translucent.
Zane was standing next to Dr. Jacobs, staring down at me, his mouth open slightly as if startled by the sight of me. He appeared unharmed, thankfully, except for a distinct pallor to his skin, like the kind that came with receiving a major shock.
Oh God. I closed my eyes, my face burning with humiliation. Being a freak is one thing. Being a freak in a cage is so much worse. And if Dr. Jacobs told him about my nonhuman heritage…
Most people didn’t even think aliens really existed. And among those who did believe, “my” relatives had a bad rep. Little, gray, and creepy. Known for cattle mutilations, abductions, and an extreme fascination with probing of all kinds. Not that any of those rumors were true, as far as I knew. Except for the being little and gray—that bit was accurate, as far as I could tell, based on my own physiology and the Internet, of course.
“Zane,” I whispered, not sure what to say, afraid of making things worse. I didn’t want to see him look at me with disgust; that fear would transform me from Ariane, a girl he knew, to a thing. An alien freak.
And yet, that was pretty much unavoidable at this point.
It wasn’t that I expected anything from him in the future. Obviously. But I guess…I wanted Zane to think of me somewhat fondly, without the memories being completely tainted. How very human of me.
It’s not what it looks like. I can explain. I wasn’t lying to you, not exactly. I’m sorry. None of those options seemed to fit the situation.
“See? I told you,” Rachel said with a smirk.
Up until now I’d ignored her and her loud thoughts in favor of focusing on Zane. But now I realized she was the one in front of the wall control. She’d brought Zane here and then pulled the cover off my cage, so to speak. I didn’t know whether it had been at her grandfather’s request or out of her own desire to torture me. But either way, she was still a bitch.
I stared her down, and she didn’t move, just watched me, her eyebrows raised in challenge. And never in my life did I more fully hate the wall keeping me in here.
The air bowed and flexed around me, and from the corner of my eye I saw Dr. Jacobs move swiftly to check a monitor a split second before a wooden chessboard from the shelf of toys and games smashed into the wall.
Rachel shrieked and jumped back, her hands flying up unnecessarily to protect her face.
I smiled, filled with gritty satisfaction at that small victory, and followed up by sending the chess pieces into the wall in front of her like a hail of bullets.
Which wasn’t particularly smart because they broke apart the second they hit the glass, sending the splintered remains ricocheting at high speed back toward me. Plus, Rachel barely even flinched, having figured out that nothing could get through the wall.
I redirected most of the shrapnel, but I missed one or two and felt a sharp jagged edge snag my cheek as it passed, opening a cut in a bright spot of pain.
In the room above, Dr. Jacobs ignored everyone and everything, grabbing a fresh printout and comparing it against something in a bright orange folder. Zane was shouting at Rachel, pointing at me, and she shouted right back, jabbing an accusing finger at him. The intercom was off, so I couldn’t hear what either of them was saying.
I couldn’t resist one more swipe at Rachel and sent the Risk board at the wall with a loud smack.
Distracted by Zane, Rachel jumped in surprise, and then glared at me.
Dr. Jacobs looked up, half dazed, and stepped between Rachel and Zane to adjust something on the control panel, and the intercom popped to life. He backed away and gestured toward Zane with a “go ahead” motion before returning to his folder and papers with a frown.
“Ariane,” Zane said. “Are you okay?” He sounded worried, which simultaneously warmed and broke my heart. I could hear Rachel’s strident voice in the background as she talked to her grandfather, but not what she was saying. She was too far from the mic. Thankfully.
I raised my sleeve to wipe at my cheek. The blood looked so red on the white, but not red enough, probably. Not human enough. “I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here.”
Zane looked around the observation room and then at my little white room with a frown. “I don’t think anyone should be here.”
For some reason, this show of faith, even after all he’d seen, brought tears to my eyes.
I looked away. “I’m dangerous.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, my worst fear spoken aloud.
“Yeah?” He shrugged. The gesture was a little stiff, but he was trying. “I bet you’re hell on checkers, too.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed, though it came out resembling a sob.
“Listen,” he said more quietly. “Is there someone I can call? Someone who can help you or—”
“No. You need to leave right now,” I said. If Dr. Jacobs would even let him. As I watched, the doctor stepped around his granddaughter and picked up the phone on the wall, pressing a quick succession of buttons before hanging up. Something bad was coming, I could feel it. “Zane, I’m serious. You need to contact your father.” He might not be much help, but something was better than nothing. “Do you have your phone?”
His mouth tightened. “I’m not going to leave you here.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
He pulled his cell from his pocket and looked at it. “No bars,” he said after a second.
Of course. “Does anyone know you’re here?” I asked, hearing the desperate edge in my voice.
Zane frowned. “What are you not telling me?”
Behind him, two men in the black GTX uniforms I knew all too well stepped in.
No. I rushed at the wall and pounded on it. Zane stepped back, startled.
“You don’t have to do this,” I shouted at Dr. Jacobs. “He didn’t do anything. Please!”
Jacobs didn’t spare me a glance; he simply nodded at the security team.
“I’ll do it!” I said in a panic. “I’ll do anything you want. Leave him alone.” I couldn’t watch them drag him away to whatever fate Dr. Jacobs had devised for him. It would be clever and cruel, I knew that much.
Zane looked from me to the security guys. “Ariane, what’s going on?” he asked, tension in his voice.
“Don’t,” I pleaded with Dr. Jacobs.
Then I watched in shock as they clamped their hands on Rachel, not Zane, and pulled her from the room. She was too startled even to scream.
Dr. Jacobs, his expression grim, followed.
“Run,” I urged Zane in a low whisper. I had no idea what was going on, but an opportunity like this would not happen again. “Go before he gets back.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “The elevator is locked.”
“What about a place to hide? Did you see anything?”
“What is going on?” he demanded.
“He’s going to try to use you to make me cooperate, to make me kill,” I said flatly.
Zane’s eyes widened. “What?”
The door to my little prison opened, and Rachel tumbled in, a blur of dark hair, red shirt, and gold scarf. She landed on her knees as the door snapped shut.
I couldn’t have said which of us was more surprised.
Rachel scrambled to her feet, her ankles wobbling in her too-tall heels. “You do not touch me, you little freak. You stay away.”
Somewhere along the way, Rachel had failed to notice that I didn’t need to touch her to cause harm.
She backed up toward the door and turned to pound on it. “Let me out!” she shrieked.
Dr. Jacobs appeared in the observation room again, his face drawn. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he was upset. But then again, that would have required a soul.
“What is this?” Already, my room felt smaller with Rachel yelling. I seriously hoped this was not Dr. Jacobs’s attempt to motivate through negative reinforcement. As in, Rachel would stay in here with me until I cooperated. That might actually work.
Dr. Jacobs approached the microphone. “The GTX reputation is at stake. The trials are in less than a month, and we don’t have time to waste. I’ve tried to appeal to your logical side, but perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong.” He held up the orange folder in one hand and the new printouts in the other. “It seems your emotional response is the key.”
Zane looked at me in confusion. “Trials?” he mouthed at me.
I ignored him, focusing on Dr. Jacobs. What did any of this have to do with Rachel being in here?
“I can’t haul young Mr. Bradshaw around with us everywhere, jabbing at him like some kind of oversized voodoo doll to get you to behave. You’ll never win that way,” he said, his disappointment clear. “I need you to remember who you are. You are not human, no matter how successfully you may masquerade as one.”
I winced.
Zane edged closer to the microphone. “You keep saying that about her,” he said, his gaze bouncing between Dr. Jacobs and me. “Why?”
He doesn’t know?
Jacobs looked startled, as though the answer should have been obvious.
“Don’t,” I said quickly. “Please.”
But he didn’t hear me, or pretended not to. “She is, quite simply, a masterpiece,” he said to Zane. “My crowning achievement, a seamless blend of human and foreign DNA—”
“Stop!” I protested. “He doesn’t need to—”
“In layman’s terms, a hybrid. Human and extraterrestrial,” Dr. Jacobs finished.
My shoulders slumped.
“Extraterrestrial. You mean…alien?” Zane gaped at him. “Like, little green men?”
“What?” Rachel stopped her pounding on the door to stare at her grandfather and then me.
“Gray, actually,” Jacobs said to Zane. “But you’ve got the right idea.”
Zane paled.
Crap. I closed my eyes for a second, opening them just in time to see Rachel bend down and pick up some of the scattered chess pieces from the floor and throw them at me.
They bounced off me harmlessly. “I cannot be in here with this…thing,” she shouted at her grandfather, and bent down to scoop up more game pieces.
Pushed well past the point of patience, I reached out mentally and held her still. “Enough already.”
Rachel struggled to move, but got nowhere for her efforts. “Let me go!”
“No,” I snapped.
“Excellent,” Dr. Jacobs murmured, watching us intently.
I froze, a very bad idea occurring to me in the form of a question I should have asked from the beginning. “What are the requirements for the trials?” I asked, feeling a slow swell of dread. “What do I have to do to qualify?”
“There’s just one,” Dr. Jacobs said in that clipped, clinical tone I’d learned to hate. “End the life of an enemy combatant with documented proof of such.”
“What?” Rachel looked at me, her face pasty white.
Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.