Catalyst (20 page)

We eat in silence for almost ten minutes. I’m seriously wishing that I could hear Cy’s thoughts. Or feel his touch without anyone knowing. He hasn’t used his extra Ana-like traits, except for the accident in the transport earlier. It makes me wonder what his brain would look like, lit up on a functional brain scan, when I almost choke on my food.

“Are you okay?” Cy says, patting my back.

“Tag him,” I whisper, between coughs.

“What?”

I reach for the water pitcher and lean in close to Cy, filling his conveniently empty glass. “What if we map out what neurons are Julian-specific, and target them with 3-D ionizing radiation when he’s asleep?” I whisper. “The beams turn on a heat-shock protein, HSP-71. That’s the tag, and it’ll last for a full day. Then we give him an HSP-targeted sedative and bam. Done.” I put the pitcher down and lean back into my chair, smiling blandly into my soufflé.

“Holy . . . That was sexy as hell, Zelia. Damn, I’ve missed your brain.”

My face flushes a hundred degrees and Cy coughs into his napkin. “Next chance I have, I’ll see if we can cook up a portable ionizer in the lab.”

Julian and Renata have stood up and the littlest kids run to Renata for a quick hug, before the older kids take them to bed.

“Those of you coming with me tomorrow have a curfew in ten minutes. Mind the time. I’d rather not have to hide your wounds if I don’t have to.”

Tennie blurts out, “Julian? How is Victoria? And the other two?”

Julian smiles silkily. “They’re fine. Working on it.”

“But—”

“They’re fine!” Julian barks at him, and the entire table cringes. So much for caring. “Didn’t I just say something about a curfew? Or is everyone going deaf?”

Caliga, Xiulan, Micah, Cy, and I quickly stand up and head for the transport. Blink follows. Xiulan’s skin keeps flashing spots of gray, then orange.

“Have you been to one of these before?” I ask Xiulan.

“Yes.” She shivers. “Hate them.”

“What’s so bad?”

“Ha. You’ll see,” she warns, before shifting to putty gray and receding into the corner of the transport. She blends right into the walls.

That doesn’t bode well. When we get to Cy’s floor, I’m surprised to see that my bracelet and Blink’s give us access here too, instead of buzzing a warning burn into our wrists. Xiulan goes straight to her room beyond the rose garden and I hear her cuss loudly at her bots before the door shuts. Something about not being a show dog.

Blink and I walk Cy to his door. Our bracelets give us a warning: five minutes to curfew.

“You know, I was thinking.” I look to Élodie, hoping she’ll support me on this. “It would be so much easier if you could talk to me. To us, in our heads. The way you did in the Deadlands. We could plan better that way.”

“No.” Cy’s response is so flat and hard, I flinch.

“Why not?”

“It’s too risky and it’s too dangerous.”

I shake my head. “But you touched me in the transport today. You didn’t hurt me.”

“
Non, mais je me sentais trop
,” Élodie tells him.

“Élodie, can you speak English please?”

She turns to me. “It is not controlled. He could spill secrets to everyone, including Julian, if he’s not careful. It was a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake!” I almost shout. Blink and Cy stare at me like I’m crazy. I lower my voice to sane levels. “Cy. Why don’t you practice so you can use it the way Ana does?”

“No.”

Blink nods in agreement, her hand on Cy’s back in reassurance. I don’t know why, but her touching him drives me into berserk territory. Even though I know they’re just friends.

“Cy. You always said our traits were good things. Why are you holding yours back?”

“Because I can’t control it!” He hurls the words and they strike out, each one an attack on me, and only me.

“Goddammit, Cy! Then practice!”

“Why, so I can kill you next time? So I can broadcast how I feel to
them
?” He points a shaking finger beyond the garden to the unseen Renata and Julian. “So they know exactly how best to hurt us both?”

He spins around and opens his door, letting it shut behind him without another word. My bracelet buzzes a warning again.

One minute to curfew

“Fine!” I growl at my bracelet. The holo message disappears, for now. I stomp over to the transport in a huff, when Élodie catches up to me.

“Zelia. Please. If you love him, then don’t do this. Don’t make him hurt people.”

I turn around slowly, so she can hear every single word out of my mouth.

“I do love him,” I say fiercely. “That’s why I will never stop trying.”

CHAPTER 18

C
Y IS LETTING HIS TRAIT CONTROL HIM
instead of the other way around. My frustration won’t let me fall asleep, so instead I activate my bracelet to study the names and faces of the politicians we’re meeting tomorrow.

Four men. All members of Inky’s State senate. They’re chairs of committees whose names make me bristle. Economic Development. Population. Aging. Health and Welfare. They sound like subcommittees of Aureus itself.

Politics bore the living daylights out of me, and I can’t keep anything straight. I end up falling asleep with the holo shining above my face, dreaming of things I actually care about. Like sparkling laboratories, my family, and genetic codes embedded in circles of gold.

• • •

M
ORNING ARRIVES TOO SOON.
T
HE BOTS POUNCE
on me at precisely five in the morning, herding me into the shower. Afterward, I spy the little chip of dried skin that fell off of Ryba on our first day here that I’d left by the sink.

It’s still translucent, like a slice of alabaster. I plunge it under cold water and it immediately turns into a jelly-like flap. I lay it on my inner forearm and it sucks right against my skin.

“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” I murmur. I try to shake it off to no avail, so I shrug and leave it on.

After the bots twist my hair into a chignon and apply makeup (they pick a ruby-red lipstick that exactly matches my bracelet), I open the closet to find a pair of black patent high heels, a black pencil skirt, low-cut white blouse, and formfitting blazer.

I put it all on quickly, happy that it’s not a bikini or something similarly outrageous. I clasp my necklace around my neck, tucking it beneath my blouse.

My bracelet tells me to head to the exit on level one, past the water oasis where we first entered days ago. Julian waits by the enormous doors, impeccably polished in a black suit that perfectly matches mine. Cy’s wearing a similar suit but in charcoal gray, like Micah’s.

“Where’s Xiulan and Caliga?” I ask, when Micah points behind us.

Caliga walks over in a low-cut, gold sequined gown that barely covers her chest. It conceals her leg wound perfectly, and her hair’s been ironed into a sheet of snowy white that cascades over her shoulder. But she’s not the one we’re staring at.

It’s Xiulan. And she’s completely nude.

Or at least, I think she is. Her skin’s flashing a million different spots and splotches and solid colors, changing almost with each footstep. Her hair is in a sleek black topknot, and I can’t read her expression at all, though I can guess what’s she’s feeling. It’s obvious now why she was dreading this trip. Cy and Micah decently look away, but Julian smiles broadly as he offers her his hand.

“Beautiful. You are otherworldly, my dear.” He grabs her chin and stares her down. “You’ll do just fine. But no tears this time, do you understand?” He releases her chin and Xiulan hangs her head. Julian doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.

Renata hands out cloaks. Red for the men, and gray for the women. Xiulan hurries to put hers on. Julian walks ahead.

“A little advice?” Renata offers as I take my cloak.

“Sure.”

“Play the game, Zelia. But make sure you’re on the right team.”

I raise an eyebrow, but there’s no time to ask more. We pass the silver scanning chamber to a waiting magpod in the garage. After an uncomfortably silent ride, we reach the magtrain station.

It’s not the same one we arrived in when we entered Inky. This one is far grander, with multiple tiers inside the atrium. Purple-cloaked guards usher us quietly and discreetly to a single black bullet of a train. There are three compartments. Caliga gets her own. Cy and Xiulan are put into the next one, and Julian insists that he and Micah accompany me in the first car.

“This is different,” I say, noticing the full bar with different-colored drinks and a multi-tiered efferent that’s already been serviced to provide a table full of food. I can’t bear to touch a single bite. I take a seat on a corner chair and Micah stands against the wall, his hands deep in his pockets.

“It’s the fastest magtrain in the country,” Julian boasts as the train begins to accelerate. There is a single, narrow window on each side. The egg-shaped buildings of Coventry speed by in a blur. “We’ll be in Indianapolis in five minutes.” He downs an emerald-green cocktail. “So Zelia. Did you read your information about the senators?”

“I did.” I neglect to tell him that I can’t remember a single name or what committee they’re on. A contact lens holo would be super-handy right now.

“Excellent. We have two tasks today. You may have heard about how Aureus’s products are being stripped off the shelves already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, Avida controls the factory in Inky that produces about a third of those products. There’s another factory in the Carolinas, and one in Utaz. Since Aureus fell, we no longer share the profits with them, but now with the product recalls, our lifeline is at stake.”

Micah withdraws one hand to rub his injured wrist. He looks up to listen, but stays quiet. I can almost imagine the invisible leash Julian has on him.

“What can I possibly do about that?” I ask simply.

“They all know the details of Senator Milford’s death. They know it was your DNA that killed him. You’re here to prove that you had nothing to do with his death, and that they have nothing to fear. And most importantly, that you possess what they covet—a young body that will never grow old.”

“Covet,” I repeat, but the word feels unclean when I say it.

“Yes. If they see you as a commodity, it will be insurance for the safety of Avida. For all those children your father made.”

Julian’s now standing right before me. He holds out his hand and I’m loath to touch him, but I take it anyway. Play the game, as Renata advised. He stands me up and spins me around, his eyes traveling over the curves of my body. I force down the nausea rising in my throat. Even Caliga never made me this brand of sick.

“Ah, you are lovely, Zelia. Listen and learn from me. Politics all boils down to manipulating three of the simplest human emotions—greed, sympathy, and fear. We’re going to use them today. Like weapons.”

“You make it sound like we’re going to war, Julian.”

“You were born in a world that says you don’t have a right to exist,” Julian tells me as the train begins to slow down. “You’ve been at war since you took your first, imperfect breath.”

I reach for my pendant automatically, and the motion isn’t missed by Julian. Out the narrow window, there are more egg-shaped buildings, far more than in Coventry, and some are enormous. Glassy connecting bridges span the structures in interconnecting lattices. The effect resembles a spun-sugar web over the whole city.

When the doors open, Julian leaves first and Micah waits for me. When I’m close enough, Micah whispers, “Don’t drop this.” He slips something into my hand. It’s cold and angled. I turn just a little bit away from Julian to see Ana’s glass unicorn in my hand.

I’m speechless. Not a single, irregular edge has been chipped. The tapering horn is still perfectly twisted. Flashes of Ana sitting on her hoverstool in the lab and crafting her glass trinkets flit through my brain.

“Where did you get this, Micah?”

“It was confiscated from your bag of belongings. I found it in the trash.” I try to imagine Micah digging through the garbage of Avida, especially with that injured wrist.

“Thank you.” I keep it in my hand. My suit is too fitted to put it in a pocket without accidentally breaking it.

Micah smiles just a touch. “C’mon. We shouldn’t fall behind.”

I’m not used to walking in heels, so I’m pathologically slow compared to everyone else. Cy and Xiulan are lagging behind us, because he’s helping to adjust her cloak, which is too long. Caliga notices me walking like I’ve got rubber for ankles and makes a beeline for me. Which is surprising, because the last time we talked, I was telling her off at the top of my lungs.

“Looks like for once, you need my arm,” she says, offering. I hesitate, but take it since my center of balance is so screwy.

“I’m no good with height. I’m perfectly happy being vertically challenged,” I tell her. Caliga snorts. She’s at least five inches taller than I am. “So. How’s that leg?”

“Really good. Cy’s been checking it every day. There’s a huge scar, but it’s already fading with his serum. Avida had a supply here.”