Archetype (23 page)

D
eclan is on me before I can squeeze the trigger, sending my plasma fire into a security officer. The accidental fire zips through his neck and he goes down with a
thump.

Declan pins me down by the wrists and slams my detonator hand into the ground. The black box, and my only way of detonating the bombs, goes skittering across the floor. My knuckles and wrist throb with searing-hot pain when he repeats the process on my right hand to free my gun.

Behind me, Foster fires on the crowd and, despite his bum knee, maneuvers well around their return fire. He disappears from my peripheral and a splash tells me he is in the pool.

I squeeze off as many shots as I can before Declan forces the gun from my hand. There is a brilliant bolt of pain in my middle knuckle and I know that it is fractured.

“Shoot me!” I scream into the room. “Foster! Kill me!”

Declan rolls us to the side just as a shot bounces off the floor where I had lain. A smoky black mark is all that remains. I am both relieved and disappointed. Lord knows I do not want to die like this, but I cannot survive if it means letting Declan control my life.

I piston my head forward and connect. Sort of. I had aimed for Declan’s nose, but he moved in time and I smacked his chin. His teeth clack together and he grunts. It is enough that he loosens his grip on me. White spots swim in my vision, but I ignore them and yank my right arm free. I slam my elbow into his face, knocking him sideways.

I twist out from under him and run for the pool. I pick up my gun on the way. Rapid blue plasma bursts zip by me. I duck through the heavy concentration. One hand on the pool’s ledge, I swing my feet over, my hip skidding the ledge, and drop inside. The warm water is shallow enough that, when I kneel, it laps up only to my waist. The wall ends just above my head. On either side of me, the sacks billow like clouds in the moving water.

Foster kneels to my right, lifting his gun up and blindly shooting into the room.

“No wonder you missed me,” I say, hissing the words through clenched teeth. “You could not take a second to aim?”

He rolls his eyes. “I did. For Burke.”

I gape. “I told you to—”

“I’m not killing you,” he says sternly. “Noah would skin me alive for killing his wife.”

His wife. I like the sound of that. But . . . “We are not getting out of here alive. You know that, right?”

“Says who?” He lifts his arm again and fires. “I have a savory roast in the oven calling my name right now.”

I chuckle. “You do not.”

He sucks in a deep breath, his expression turning serious. “On three?”

I nod. “One. Two.”

We stand and fire into the sea of red. I have only a moment to discover how well Foster had already cleaned up before the room disappears.

 • • • 

A bubble sneaks past my face and pops at the water line over my head. The familiar hum of my tank and hospital surroundings tell me my consciousness has shifted bodies again. It could not have happened at a worse moment.

Noah sits in a metal folding chair facing me with bloodshot eyes. The skin under them is dark and a stark contrast to the pallor of the rest of his face.

An auburn-haired man races into the room, out of breath, and thrusts a computer tablet into Noah’s hand. “You have to see this. I only just found out. Fucking Birmingham took the clone—”

Noah stands so fast the chair clatters to the ground, folding in on itself. “What are they doing? Where are they?”

“Burke Laboratories. They managed to get a feed started before all hell broke loose. Richardson’s been helping them from the command center.”

“Get a team assembled ten minutes ago.” Noah squints at the screen. “Is Emma hurt?”

The man peers closely at the screen. “There’s no blood in the water.”

“Something’s happened,” Noah says. “Shit. Just go. Get there. Now.”

The man runs from the room and Noah watches the screen as if he wants to jump through it. His knuckles go white clutching the tablet.

Pain radiates through my midsection, and for the first time, my body moves. Jerks. Spasms. I lift a hand and brace against the glass, but I can do no more than press lightly with my weakened muscles.

An alarm sounds and Sonya bursts into the room, eyes alert and on the monitor. “Shit!” She runs to the desk and slams a fist down on something that sends another alarm shrieking into the room.

Noah does not see any of this. He is looking up at me with wide eyes. “Emma?”

I lift my other hand and press it to the glass. Nod once.

“The baby’s coming,” Sonya says, but she sounds upset.

Noah blinks rapidly as if waking. “What?” He sounds almost happy.

I want to be happy, too, but the pain ringing around my core makes me wonder if I’m being sawed in half.

Men run into the room and Sonya spouts off orders: “Stop the blood thinner, get the patient out, and prep for an emergency C-section. And somebody cut the goddamn alarms.”

The tablet Noah is holding clatters to the floor. “No. No C-section. Emma’s awake. She can deliver on her own.” He points up at me. “Look.”

Sonya does a double take as I curl my fingers into fists, my nails scraping the glass, and lamely bang them on the tube. She looks at the monitor and shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. The baby’s in distress. We have to get her out. Now.”

Noah takes her by the shoulder and jerks her around to face him. “But you said—” He stops and swallows. Glances my way. “The blood thinners. She’ll bleed out if you have to do the C-section. There’s been no time to take her off.”

All of this is news to me, and while I do not understand what the problem is, Noah certainly does.

“Hopefully,” Sonya says, “we can clot her blood in time.”

The water drains around me and more pain rips through my stomach.

 • • • 

I roll to my side and cough. Water erupts from my lungs and coats the hardwood floor under me. Slats of pale, medium, and dark wood. This flooring startles me, and while I cough, I glance around.

Stairs leading into a sunken living room. The fireplace and its scent coating the air with the sweet smell of burned wood. The smell I associate with home.

I push shakily to my knees and Declan takes me by the arms. He cups my face. “Are you okay? Jesus, I thought you were dead.” His eyebrows tilt and pinch together; his sea-green gaze darts over my face, searching for who knows what.

I force his arms aside. “Do not touch me. How did I get here?”

He rocks back on his heels and stands. “Your
friend
threw you out of the pool.”

Foster threw me out? Into the lion’s den? Why would he do that?

“You passed out,” Declan says.

Is Emma hurt?

There’s no blood in the water.

Something’s happened.

The conversation flits through my mind and I know instantly what happened. I had been back in Her body. In labor.
This
body had been drowning because I had not been around to stay conscious.

Which means I am no longer around to keep the other body conscious, but that is not the real problem.
That
body might bleed out during labor, and if She bleeds out, I am stuck here for good.

I look at Declan and decide then and there that one or both of us has to die.

Right now.

I
stand slowly, pinning my gaze on Declan. He eyes me warily, his jaw muscles clenching.

“Emma,” he begins in a warning voice, “you can’t fight me. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“I am not letting you turn me into a mindless drone again.”

“It’s gone too far now. I can’t trust you after what you’ve done.”

I circle him. “You are right about one thing: This has gone too far. My
husband
knows I am alive.”

Declan flinches. “Your what?”

“You heard me. I am married to another man.”

Color drains from his face. “Who is he?” he asks in a flat tone. The island stands between us now, but Declan can and will jump over it if necessary, so I am careful not to make any sudden moves.

“I will never tell you that.
Never.
” Giving Noah up to Declan would ruin everything Noah has fought for. I will never tell, not even to see the look on Declan’s face when he finds out his “friend” double-crossed him.

Declan’s shoulders drop and he rounds the island a little more quickly than before. “It doesn’t matter. He only knows you’re a clone of his wife. He’ll never come for you. You’re nothing more than a good copy as far as he’s concerned. And once your memories are wiped, it won’t matter.”

This stings because I know it is true. Noah has no idea what Travista did. But I cannot let Declan know that. “He will never give up on me,” I say. “We love each other in a way you will never understand.”

He moves toward me, hand outstretched, his eyes pleading. “Emma—”

I jerk away. “Do not come any closer.”

“—don’t do this. I love you and you still love me. I can see it in your eyes.”

It is true. I do. “But I hate you more,” I say, my throat and chest tight. “Everything you have ever said to me was a lie.”

“I’ve given you everything,” he says, his eyes narrowing. “I would never hurt you.”

I laugh, low in my chest. “This is not just about me. It is about who you are, Declan. I cannot be with a man who sells women and
kidnaps children.
And for what? Money? You are the worst sort of human being I can imagine.”

He swings around the counter so fast I end up in his grasp. His fingers cut off the circulation to my arms and I wince, coming up on my toes.

“Don’t you understand?” He shakes me for emphasis. “I’m single-handedly bringing an end to infertility. While other countries waste their fertile years, our fertility is on the rise, and
I
did that, Emma. Me. All because I won’t stand idly by watching the west bring us closer to extinction.”

“But you steal their children!”

“Only the girls.” He says this simply, firmly. As if this makes all the difference.

I gape at him, nearly speechless. “That does not make it
better.
Do you have any idea what your training centers are like? Those girls are abused. Tortured.
Murdered.
”

He shakes his head. “Under my father and his father, yes. But when I took over, I cleaned them up. Those girls aren’t harmed in any way. It makes them more compliant. More children are born.”

I shake my head and try to twist out of his hold. “Next you are going to tell me that the clones are all a part of this master plan to help heal the world?”

“Why else would I be doing this? Their bodies can be manipulated to be whatever we want them to be.”

“You kill their hosts! It is murder, Declan.”

“They’re shells, Emma. That’s all.”

The image of Emma floating in the tank fills my mind. Only a shell of who I used to be. She may as well be dead. “It is still wrong. You ruined my life. And what about Ruby? Did anyone ask her if she wanted to be forced into a marriage with that lunatic? Raped for the child she carries?”

Declan shoves me away and I smack into the island, a jolt of pain streaking up my side. “Will this be your next accusation? That I raped you?”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “But you cannot say you did not manipulate this entire situation. I love my husband. I never would have been unfaithful to him, and definitely not with a man like you.”

A deep flush fills Declan’s face. “A man like me?” His right hand darts out with clawed fingers and stops just before taking me by the neck. Slowly, his fingers curl into a white-knuckled fist. “A man who gave you everything?” His voice is low, thin. Dangerous. “Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me? Having to explain my actions to my father’s closest friends? Anyone who knew who you really were? Promise them I had you under my full control? I was on the verge of losing all credibility to keep you, and I was going to keep you, Emma. I
am
going to keep you.”

He lunges for me, and I grab a decorative ceramic bowl from the island top and swing at him. My broken knuckle screams with a white fury, but the bowl
thwak
s against his shoulder and throws him off course long enough for me to run.

I aim for the teleporter, wishing I knew a port number that would take me somewhere where Declan cannot follow. My only option at this point is the hospital—
the labs
—and hopefully I can make it out of the building. If I can just make it to the streets outside, I can find someplace to hole up until I come up with a better plan.

Two steps from the opening, the world around me swims and goes dark.

 • • • 

My eyelids flutter open and I blink at a cracked, blue ceiling. Bright lights. A man hovers over my head, pumping air into my lungs. Another man presses fingers over a bag of clear liquid being fed into the crook of my arm. Neither of them pays attention to me. Instead, they focus on what is going on beyond the curtain hanging across my chest, shielding me from what jostles and tugs at my insides. I hear Sonya and the others working but cannot see them.

Noah stands at the curtain’s edge, looking around it, wincing and running a hand over his mouth and chin. His other hand holds mine in a tight grip. I squeeze and he whips around, eyes wide.

He leans over me and forces the bag away from my mouth, then brushes my hair back. “Hold on,” Noah whispers and kisses my forehead. “She’s almost here and then you have to hold on, okay? Stay with me.”

A hot tear slips out of my eye because I want to stay. More than anything. “Do not let me die,” I say.

Noah’s expression crumbles and tears stream over his cheeks. “Never.”

A tiny cry fills the room and Sonya says, “She’s okay, Noah. Adrienne’s okay.”

Noah and I both look toward the sound of Sonya’s voice. A moment later, a young man comes around with my swaddled baby. He passes her over to Noah and I marvel over just how tiny the bundle looks in his arms. How it is mostly blanket and the tiniest of pink faces poking out.

“Let me see her,” I whisper. My eyelids grow heavy and the room is beginning to fade. My body is weakening and there is nothing I can do to stop it.

Noah lays her by my head and I see my perfect daughter. Adrienne. Eyes closed, chin quivering followed by a mew of a cry. I cannot tell who she looks like yet, only that she is perfect.

Noah skims a hand across my cheek and kisses me gently. “I love you, Emma.”

His tears fall and mingle with my own. The tugging of my lower body continues, jostling me.

“Damn it,” Sonya says. “She’s hemorrhaging.”

I did not need to hear her say this. I already feel the life draining from my body.

“No, Emma,” Noah says, gripping the side of my head. “Fight.”

I can, I realize, but not here. This is the end for this body, but not the end for
me.
“Declan,” I say. “I need help. Don’t let him—”

 • • • 

I wake to Declan pacing at the foot of the bed. I have a moment of disorientation, searching for some sign of life in my lower extremities where a moment ago there was none. Only a jostling sensation. And even though I was with her only a moment ago, I already crave my daughter. My chest tightens with longing for her. Her perfect face fills my mind and calls to me. My heart swells to a point I never knew existed at just the thought of her. This is what love is. Unconditional and world consuming. I would do anything for her.

I have to get out of here. I have to find a way back home. Home to Adrienne.

I shift my focus to my surroundings, my ways of escape. I am on the side of the bed opposite the door. Declan will reach me before I get there. The glass wall is closer but does not open like the wall in the dining area. He blocks the way into the bathroom, too, so I cannot get to those windows.

I focus on the end table by my head. An abstract sculpture of a woman and child sits on the corner by a lamp. Its mate, the husband, sits on Declan’s side. And it is as heavy as hell because it has been literally carved from granite.

I wait until Declan has paced to the other side of the room, then spring up. The statue is heavier than I remembered, and my broken knuckle makes it harder to grip. It takes both hands to throw it at the glass. The wall shatters and glass shards scatter all over the outside decking.

“Emma! No!”

I run. I have to shoulder through what remains of the glass, cutting my skin on the shards, but I make it through. The crisp air clenches my lungs and bites at my skin. My feet crunch on the glass pieces, then the snow. My breath billows outward in white clouds of crystallized air.

Behind me, running footfalls through snow grow closer, but not close enough to stop me. I have been training for this day for a long time. Toni said I would have to run and would have to be faster than all of them.

And I am.

“Stop!” Declan yells. “There’s nowhere to go!”

But there is. I have seen it.

I run straight for the cliffs over the frozen lake.