Flame (14 page)

“We almost were.”

“I have regrets.” All Felicity’s pretense was gone, and she looked levelly at Waverly in a way she hadn’t done since they were very young girls. There was something different about her, Waverly realized. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you. I wasn’t a very good friend.” Felicity reached for Waverly’s hand, but she was interrupted by a small knock at the door.

“I made some cocoa,” Regina said as she set a small tray on the desk. “I thought you girls might like…”

Felicity stood. “I wish I could stay. I’ve got a lot of people to see today.” She pulled Regina into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “It was good to see you.”

Regina hugged Felicity back as she said, “Your mother would be so proud of how strong you’ve become.”

“I’ve just been telling Waverly how weak I feel sometimes,” Felicity said. Waverly looked on, silently agreeing with her mother. Felicity seemed straighter, more solid. Avery must be good for her.

Or maybe she just needed time to heal,
Waverly thought as she watched her friend pull away from her mother’s arms and walk out the door.

Waverly looked at her own reflection in the mirror over her dresser—drawn, pale, hunted. “I have regrets,” she whispered. For a few minutes, she let herself stare at the defeated person she’d become. She let herself hate her.

Another knock sounded on the front door, and Waverly went to the living room to answer, thinking Felicity must have forgotten something. When she opened the door, a hand reached into the apartment and yanked her out.

“What!” she shrieked. She found herself looking into Jared’s dark blue eyes.

“Something’s happened,” he said. “We need to get you on the record right now.”

Waverly stepped on something soft and looked down to see her guard on the floor, unconscious, snoring through a bleeding nose.

Jared reached into his waistband and pulled out a small black object Waverly didn’t recognize. “What is that?”

“A handgun,” Jared said. “An antique. The doctor is fond of old things.” From his jacket pocket he produced a large knife, which he held in the other hand. The way he moved reminded Waverly of videos she’d seen of Old Earth—extinct giant cats that stalked the jungles.

Jared motioned to Waverly with his knife. “Stay
right
behind me.” He ran to the stairwell doorway. His swiftness caught Waverly by surprise, and she ran to catch up. He gave her an admonishing look, and mouthed the words,
Stay close.
He slowly pushed the stairwell door open. Waverly followed so close behind him she could feel the dampness of his shirt on her cheek.

“Come on!” Jared said. He started to pull her into the stairwell, but Waverly jerked from his hand.

“Wait! What about Mom?” she said.

“She doesn’t know anything. She’s safer here,” he said and pushed her ahead of him. “Up!”

She hesitated, but the frightened way Jared was looking around convinced her that she had no choice but to trust him. She ran up the stairs two at a time, with Jared right behind. “What’s happening?”

“Mather got wind of the doctor’s plans to put her on trial. She’s gathering up witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” she rasped, already out of breath.

“People who can speak against you.” He caught her arm and pulled her back, his eyes fixed on a point above them, sensing danger. Waverly stopped, watching his face, trying to breathe quietly.

The stairway landing looked empty, but the quiet was menacing. Waverly tensed just as a dark shape dropped on Jared from the landing above. A percussive sound exploded all around her. Suddenly she was in the corner of the stairwell, shielding her head with her arms as Jared slammed backward into her, ramming her shoulder painfully into the wall. She couldn’t see anything, but she heard Jared grunt as his weight shifted, then he was off her.

When she could look around, she saw a gray-haired man sitting on the stairs, his hand wrapped around his forearm, which was bleeding. There was so much blood that for a moment Waverly couldn’t look at anything else.

“Waverly!” Jared yelled. He was wrestling with a second man. Where had he come from? The man was red faced, groaning, sweat dripping from his chin as Jared tried to pull his gun away from him. A gunshot exploded through the air, and Waverly ducked. Jared jerked the barrel of the gun upward as a second shot ricocheted off the stairs. Jared rammed his forehead into the man’s nose, and the man’s face burst into a bloody mess. “Behind you!” Jared managed to say to Waverly as he wrestled the man to the floor.

Waverly turned just in time to see a third man coming at her from downstairs, pointing a gun at her face. Another shot blasted in her ears, and the man crumpled into a heap on the landing, lingering just a moment before rolling down the stairs.

Moving slowly as if in a nightmare, Waverly checked herself for bullet holes.

“He didn’t get a shot off,” Jared said as he tucked his handgun into his waistband. The man he’d been wrestling lay at his feet, dazed. Jared stepped on the man’s face as he jerked the rifle out of his hands and then he pushed Waverly up the stairs. “They’ll be coming,” he said, out of breath. “Hurry.”

She didn’t know how many more flights they ascended. She moved up the stairs barely aware of her surroundings. Her ears rang from the gunshots, and she felt weak from shock.

She looked at Jared’s sweat-soaked back as he pulled her along. She hadn’t known who he was or what he was capable of. No wonder the guard outside her door acted afraid of him.

When they finally reached the door he wanted, he pulled it open, peeked through, then shoved Waverly across the corridor and through a door. Suddenly she was standing in front of the church elders. They sat around a folding table in a nondescript office.

Selma stood up, horrified at the sight of her. “What happened to this girl?”

Waverly looked down to find she’d been spattered by blood all over her arms and chest. “Oh my God,” she said and rubbed at her skin, smearing the oily red around.

“Jared?” Dr. Carver made a fist on the table and tried to stand, but his legs failed him.

“It didn’t go well,” Jared said before collapsing onto a chair by the door. “I had to shoot a guard.”

“Unacceptable!” The old man pounded his cane on the ground.

“Jared saved my life,” Waverly said.

This mollified the old doctor, though he still pouted.

“Are we safe here?” Waverly asked, disoriented by the contrast between this peaceful room and the violence in the stairwell.

“Don’t worry,” the doctor answered. “Your route to this room cannot be tracked by surveillance. We planned carefully.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” asked Miranda as she fingered a long string of pearls that rested over the folds of an elegant silk blouse.

“To testify,” Waverly said, sinking into a folding chair, her hands at her temples, pressing, trying to get herself under control. “But Mather’s men just tried to—”

“Capture you to keep you from talking,” the doctor said. “Once we have you on record, you’ll be safe again.”

“Mather will just get more angry. She’ll come after me—” Waverly felt panic rising in her chest. “Or my mom.”

“No,” the doctor said, one bony hand held up. “Once you testify, she can do nothing to you without admitting guilt. You’ll be under the protection of the church elders as a chief witness, and anyone who tries to harm you will be charged with interfering with our investigation and could be imprisoned on that basis alone. Even Anne Mather. When we’re done here, you’ll go back to your life with your mother. If you don’t testify”—he tilted his hand, palm upward—“I can’t protect you from her.”

Can’t,
Waverly thought,
or won’t?
She didn’t trust the doctor or his colleagues. She wasn’t even sure she trusted Jared. So what choice did she have? If she didn’t cooperate with these people, there’d be no one on this ship to protect her or her mother. “All right,” she whispered.

“Begin recording.” Dr. Carver lifted a finger from the handle of his cane. Jared limped to a com station in the corner of the room. Waverly saw a light blink on above her and realized a camera had been turned on.

“Waverly,” Selma said, her many gold bangles clanging as she rested her elbows on the table. “We need you to tell us everything you remember about the first attack on the Empyrean.”

Waverly nodded and began.

At first, talking about that day was difficult. She hated reliving the horror of her friends’ parents being shot in front of her, remembering how she and the rest of the girls had been taken to the New Horizon, and all the lies Anne Mather had told them, trying to get them to believe they’d been rescued instead of kidnapped. The more Waverly talked, the angrier she became. The elders asked her questions of greater and greater detail, regarding who pulled triggers, who killed whom, whether she’d seen Anne Mather order anyone to shoot.

They couldn’t let this point go.

“You’re certain you didn’t see Anne Mather until
after
the shoot-out in the shuttle bay?” Selma asked. “Could you have
heard
her ordering people to shoot?”

“I never saw her face until we were away from the Empyrean.”

There was a disappointed silence as the elders looked at each other, worried.

“Think, Waverly,” Dr. Carver said. Waverly turned to him and he raised his eyebrows. “Remember, this is your chance to show that Mather is a war criminal.”

Did he want her to lie?

“I…” Waverly paused. If she lied, couldn’t Mather put her in jail for perjury? It was better not to give her an excuse. “I didn’t see her during the fight.”

The doctor looked at her, seething. “That is too bad,” he said slowly.

“She did so much more,” Waverly said. “She took our eggs without our consent…”

“Let’s get to that,” the doctor said, twirling a finger impatiently. “How did you learn she had taken your eggs?”

“It was after I’d been shot.”

“You were shot?” Deacon Maddox said, opening his eyes. “When?”

“When I was trying to see my mom, in the storage bay.”

“I’ve interviewed the guard,” Jared said. “He claims he thought Waverly was an escaped prisoner. He says he had no idea she was one of the young girls.”

“That is plausible,” Selma said thoughtfully.

“And there’s no way to pin it on the Pastor, who wasn’t even there,” the little woman said, sounding bored. “Get to the eggs. That order certainly came from her.”

Waverly told them how she woke up after being shot to learn that her ova had been harvested to help create the next generation of New Horizon crew members. The entire council, the women especially, listened with sympathy, but at the end of the story, the doctor tapped his cane against the edge of the table, looking annoyed.

“Waverly. Did you ever
witness
Mather giving orders to harvest those ova?”

Waverly shook her head. “All that must have happened while I was unconscious.”

“Think!” he insisted.

She racked her brain, but Waverly could think of no clear proof that the orders to harvest the ova had come from Mather. “She justified it afterward, though. She told me how lucky I was to be helping the mission by giving up my eggs.”

“She’ll say she didn’t realize Waverly hadn’t given consent,” the tiny woman, Miranda, muttered. “She’ll blame the doctors.”

“So there is no
proof
that you can think of that the doctors were acting under her orders?” Selma asked, clearly crestfallen. “None?”

Waverly looked down to see that she’d been pressing her palms into the cold plastic table. When she lifted them, her sweaty fingers left behind a misty outline that faded away. “Can’t you ask the doctors?”

Selma looked at Dr. Carver. “Does she not know?”

“Mather has Dr. Molinelli, the one who worked on you, in custody,” Dr. Carver told her. “He was arrested last night, along with some known opponents to Anne Mather. She’s holding them in the brig, and we haven’t been able to gain access to them.”

“How can she get away with that?” Waverly pounded the table with a fist.

“She has a great deal of power,” Dr. Carver said. “That is what I’ve been trying to tell you. The situation grows more serious every moment.”

“So you see, dear,” Miranda said, rubbing at the chains that covered her throat in glittery gold, “if you can provide us with nothing showing that Anne Mather is a war criminal, I’m afraid there is very little we can do to protect you. Or anyone.”

They wanted to get Anne Mather. All of them. They wanted it badly.

“It’s
my
neck on the line,” Waverly said slowly.

“Play the martyr all you like, dear,” said the tiny old woman through a sneer. “We just need your testimony.”

Who did these people think they were to use her in this way? Waverly looked from face to face, all of them staring at her, impervious, betraying not a hint of concern for her situation—all except Selma, who worried at her bottom lip with stained teeth as she watched Waverly.
At least one of them is human,
Waverly thought ruefully.

“Well?” Dr. Carver prompted her.

“I’m no martyr,” Waverly said through slitted eyes.
If they’re going to use me,
she decided,
I’ll use them, too.
“I want something in exchange.”

“We already have an agreement,” Dr. Carver said menacingly.

“So you found an antidote?”

“Antidote to what?” Selma asked with surprise.

“Selma,” the doctor said irritably. “Let
me.
”

The old woman squinted angrily at him, but she closed her mouth.

“I’m still working on it, Waverly,” Dr. Carver said. “I need more time.”

“Then I’m amending our agreement. I want to know what happened to Sarah Wheeler and Randy Ortega. I want to talk to them.”

“That can be arranged—” Dr. Carver began, but Waverly cut him off.

“And I want to talk to Captain Jones. Alone.”

Glances flew around the room, from eye to rheumy eye.

“Why?” The doctor finally asked.

“I have my reasons.”

“That could be difficult,” Deacon Maddox said.