“Did you hear that? See that?”
“No, Anna. And neither did you. Let’s go.”
I feel the slight sensation of pressure at my temples, and I instinctively whip my head around to look for Dacia. But the hallway is empty, except for the two of us and that door, which I did see do something freaky, no matter what Daniel says. And now that I think about it, this is not exactly the same as the buzzing that I felt with Dacia, more like the feeling when I was at the townhouse—
My mouth falls open. “It was you at the townhouse.”
“Anna!” His voice is low but needle sharp. “We’ve got less than five minutes to get you out of this building. After that, the cameras will be working again. So unless you—”
“Deo,” I hiss. “Where is he?”
“Someone is working on it! Will you just shut up and keep walking?”
I shut up and keep walking.
As we pass the room where I was tested by Bellamy, I hear a mechanical noise up ahead. It’s coming from the hallway where I saw the elevator earlier. Daniel sucks air through his teeth and pivots us around to the closest door. He scans one of the panels with his access badge, but the light blips red.
Daniel mutters a curse below his breath and pulls me closer to him. “Hang tight.” His voice is barely audible—I feel the words against my ear more than actually hear them. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Get Deo out first,” I hiss.
Daniel doesn’t respond, simply whips us back in the other direction to face two men coming toward us. The first, moving at a rapid clip, is Lucas. The second is Graham Cregg, who lags behind, in no apparent rush. He’s pale, with thinning hair, and his expression is relaxed.
Cregg seems small, but then I realize he’s just dwarfed by Lucas’s bulk. He’s nearly as tall as Daniel. As he comes closer, the outside of my left hand begins to throb. I remember the weight of the garden shears in my right hand, fighting hard against the compulsion to pull the handles together. Wanting to throw them at Cregg, who’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, bare from the waist up—a grotesque parody of a yoga instructor, hands raised slightly above his thighs as he focuses all of his energy on me, on controlling me.
No. Not me. Molly. I’m shoving the new memory behind the wall, patching the bricks, raising the shields, when Lucas yanks my arm away from Daniel. His fingers dig into my flesh.
“Glad you finally showed up,” Daniel says. “I was about to call for clarification since Room 1 is empty.”
“Who the hell told you to bring her here?”
Daniel shrugs. “Someone from the Med Unit said the 2A in 94 needed to be escorted to Testing Room 1.”
“Lab 1, dipshit.” Lucas says. “And I didn’t say for anyone to es . . . cort . . .” But then he frowns, rubbing his forehead. He looks confused, like he’s thinking now that maybe he did tell Ashley to send me to Testing Room 1.
Daniel’s eyes are still locked on Lucas. It’s a neat little Jedi mind trick: This isn’t the patient you’re looking for. Move along.
Cregg steps forward, taking control of the situation. He doesn’t even glance at me, just flashes his ID at Daniel.
“No need to get overworked, Lucas. There’s no harm done. We’re headed to the lab now, so we’ll take it from here. You may return to your post.”
Cregg’s voice is smooth. It has a soothing quality, kind of like the auditory equivalent of a cough drop.
“Yes, sir.” Daniel shoots me a fleeting look of apology, then heads down the corridor.
We turn the opposite way, back toward my room. Lucas’s hand, which is already like a vise around my arm, squeezes tighter as we change course. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of crying out, but it catches Cregg’s attention anyway.
“You’re disgusting, Lucas.” There’s no emotion in Cregg’s voice, just a straight-up statement of fact. “Let go of her arm. I overlooked your . . . liberties . . . with the others, but that doesn’t mean I would do so with a girl who could be of”—thumpthumpthump—“actual value.”
Room 81 is ahead on the left. The noise is louder than before. Cregg steps slightly to the right as we approach, moving away from the door that seems to bubble out into the hallway.
“So rein it in,” he continues. “She’ll follow without you manhandling her, as long as we have something she wants.”
Lucas releases my arm. I rub the bruised area.
Ouch!
It’s a child’s voice, and it echoes in my head at the exact moment we pass.
BOOM . . . BOOM . . . BOOM . . . NO!
That last sound is almost a scream. Cregg does an odd stutter step, nearly tripping over the carpet, so I’m positive that he heard the voice, too. Lucas, on the other hand, is oblivious.