Sparked (The Metal Bones Series Book 1) (8 page)

Dad wilted, the fire going out of him. “Yesterday? And you didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you just come clean then?”

“I’m coming clean now.” Robotatouille rubbed the back of his neck. “Which is why she needs to leave. Tonight. We thought they would stop but they haven’t. They send more each time.”

“M-M-More?” Dad stuttered. “Each t-time?”

My jaw dropped. I felt like I was learning a story about a whole new girl whose name wasn’t Vienna Avery.

“When will I meet him?” I whispered. “This commander.”

“Soon. He’s finishing up some things.” Robotatouille walked over to the window. “He’s scheduled to arrive after your mom comes home.”

“If he has done so much for my daughter already, I’m indebted to him. And . . .” Dad stared out the window. “I appreciate everything you all have done for us.”

“Yes.” I stared down at my feet. “Thank you. You were . . . saving my life the whole time, weren’t you?”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the commander. I was under his orders.” Robotatouille dropped the curtain. “Your wife has arrived.”

My head dropped. This was about to get even better.

Mom’s footsteps echoed along the walkway and her key turned in the door.

Three. Two
—

“What are you all doing . . .?” Mom took in our faces.

One.

“Patrick?” Mom dropped her bags. “What’s wrong?”

Mom brought with her the smell of sugar and chocolate, and my stomach turned.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Dad patted the seat next him.

“What happened?” Mom asked, edging onto the chair. “And why are your bags packed, Vienna?”

Dad filled her in. At first, Mom blamed me.
Because, of course, Robotatouille coming alive, speaking and acting like a black belt in karate was my fault.

Mom was Mom. I just kept forgetting that.

“Are you ready?” Robotatouille looked at the three of us. Mom hadn’t said a word for the last ten minutes. Her flour-stained fingers were clenched in her lap.

“Yes.” I got up and zipped my jacket.

“But . . . but you’re leaving,” Mom whispered, as if we hadn’t just been telling her those exact same words for the last twenty minutes.

“We could show her my room.” Maybe it would help her grasp the reality of the situation.

“He’s here,” Robotatouille said as a heavier set of footsteps echoed along the doorway.

“Who-Who’s here?” Mom spun between Dad and me.

“Their commander,” I said.

Dad put a hand on Mom’s arm and helped her up from the couch.

“The one who’s going to protect you?” Mom said at last, and before I could nod, there was a knock at the door.

I grimaced. At least it was better than crashing through my window.

Dad opened the door and the commander moved into the room with an ease and grace I didn’t think robots should have. The robot’s head was bent forward and he brushed flakes of snow out of his dark, ruffled black hair.

Here he was, my robot protector. Oh joy.

I walked forward and thrust my hand out, waiting for him to acknowledge me. And then he looked up and his eyes locked with mine. His beautiful, piercing, green eyes.

Chapter 12

Once, when I was little, Sydney and I were playing with my dad’s golf clubs. She was holding the club wrong, gripping the end of the stick, and her feet were facing the opposite direction. I went to help her but not before she swung.

All I remember was a flash of metal.

For that tiny moment, I felt nothing. My body stopped responding. My nerves shut down. My brain saw only what was in front of me—random images and colors that seemed to have no correlation to each other. My heart stopped beating. And I stopped breathing.

Now I felt that same sensation, had the same reaction racing through my body when I saw him. Colors, images, swam before my eyes, making no sense.

Yet, like the golf-club incident, once that tiny moment of suspension in space passed, everything came rushing back, the pounding in my head, the locking of my knees, and shock of being caught unaware. Thoughts rushed into my head like the wave of pain descending after the blow.

He was a robot?
He couldn’t be.
He had been a person.
He was
the guy
. Green Eyes. The guy with the beautiful green eyes.

He couldn’t be a robot.

And he was the
head
robot.

I snatched my hand away and stumbled backward.

“Vienna?” Dad stepped in front of me.

I couldn’t meet his eyes. I couldn’t explain.

“Sir.” Dad cleared his throat. “I just want to say”—Dad took up his hand where I had left it—“I owe you thanks. For all you’ve done.”

My fists tensed. Green Eyes was a robot? How could . . .? How could that be? He made me think . . . I thought . . .

I ground my teeth together.

“Vienna?” Dad said again, gesturing toward the robot.

Oh crap.

Everyone was watching me, even Green Eyes. And . . . my fists clenched. Was he smirking?

“You’re a robot,” I hissed up at him, trying to make him understand.

He gave a half-smile, as if I’d uncovered a secret he had been dying to tell me.

My stupid toes tingled at his lopsided smile and I dug my traitorous feet into the carpet.

“You mean you know him?” Dad frowned.

“I . . .” My heart pounded.

Did I?

“Not really.” I tried again. “I . . .”

Green Eyes grinned, flashing brilliant white teeth, and my heart thumped around in my chest. I would dig it into the carpet too. Later.

“I warned her”—Green Eyes turned to Dad—“They were trying to close in and the last thing I wanted was her taking any unnecessary risks.”

So you just stalked and abducted me with a vague, all-too-cryptic message that I was somehow supposed to understand?

Right. Thanks.

When he turned, his limbs flowed freely, his joints smooth and unlocking, so human. Completely human. No stuttering of the kneecaps. No awkward gait that Robotatouille once had. Nothing.

How was I supposed to know he wasn’t a robot? He didn’t walk like one.

Dad sighed. “We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, really, but we need answers.”

“And I wish, more than ever, I could give them to you. I wish I knew what was going on.” He gave a dramatic pause and his black hair fell over his forehead. “But I don’t.”

“That hardly seems to answer anything.” Dad slapped his fist into his palm.

Robotatouille’s jaw ticked.

Green Eyes shrugged. “It’s all I can give you.”

I don’t believe it for one second.

“Well, then.” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What’s your plan? Where are you going to take her?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t tell you that either. I know,” he said. “I just don’t want anyone to find out. She’ll be in the best hands possible. We won’t rest until Vienna’s safe.”

“Why do you even care so much?” I blurted out. “I mean, I don’t even know what I’ve done, nor do I know why you even want to help me or save me from a robot crashing through my window and now that we’re asking for answers you’re all hush-hush but you have no problem carting me away to god-knows-where for god-knows-what-reason and I’m just supposed to go along with it? To stand here and blindly follow you.”

“Vienna!” Mom’s voice was sharp. “You of all people should be grateful.”

How. Dare. Mom! “I hardly think you can even under—”

“No.” Mom cut me off. “I won’t let you—”

“Won’t let me?” I retorted. “You’re hardly in a position—”

“Enough.” Green Eyes’ command rang through the room, slicing our words in half.

I gaped at him, mouth wide open.

“Excuse me?” Mom whispered.

“She’s coming with me.” His words hung in the air over all of us, filling up the room.

I crossed my arms.
I’d rather be going with Robotatouille, thank you very much.

“You wouldn’t last two hours before they found you.” He stepped closer, and my heart thumped around in my chest. His scent wafted over me, like warm pinecones. “And all our hard work,” he continued. “All our time spent protecting you, would have been for nothing.”

My eyes caught on the white scar on his neck, following it until it disappeared under the collar of his shirt.

When I met his gaze again, his eyes narrowed, and I flushed.

He turned to my parents. “Are there any further questions?” Even though the tone in his voice said he wouldn’t be providing any further answers.

My eye twitched. He’d just dismissed us? Why that little, stupid, arrogant, son of—

“I have a question.” I raised my hand and stepped in front of him like a silly schoolgirl trying to usurp the teacher.

A smile touched the side of his mouth. “Did you have a question?”

A . . . a question?
“Of course,” I said.

And I said the first thing that popped into my head.

“Um, your name?”

If tomatoes could turn any redder than their natural ripe color, I knew I was that color. Great question to put my foot down on.
Way to go, Vienna.

His smile vanished, leaving his face with deep lines. “My name?” His voice dropped two decibels.

I bit my lip. Had I overstepped?

“I’m classified as HB-11-01.”

Oh.

He didn’t have a name.
Way to go, Vienna.
My shoulders sagged.

Dad shook his head, obviously not caring if he had a name or not. “How often will we be able to contact Vienna?”

“I’m sorry.” Green Eyes’ voice was deep and sullen. “But you won’t be able to contact Vienna. At all.”

I stilled.

Dad’s face whitened. “What . . .? What do you mean? How long before she’s safe? How long until we can contact her? Until she can come home?”

“We are working on it.” Green Eyes sighed. “And I promise, when this is all over, we will return her home.”

“I just . . . I just want you to understand.” Dad choked. “She’s my only child. The reason I work so hard is for her and her mother. Without them . . .” Dad’s voice broke, and he slumped onto the couch, his head buried in his hands.

“I understand,” Green Eyes whispered.

Oh, Dad. My heart squeezed.

“Is everyone ready?” Green Eyes asked, and my body froze.

I was leaving.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Green Eyes said. He scooped up my blue suitcase, and without missing a stride, signaled for Robotatouille to follow him out the door.

The three of us stared at the floor, not knowing how to interact with one another.

I played with my fingers.

“Dad, I—”

His head came up, revealing watery eyes and a pale face. The gray in his eyes was set off against the red lines, making them even more vibrant. I took a mental picture.

“Oh, Vienna,” Mom said, her eyes soft and blurry.

I wished those tears were because I was leaving. I wished those tears were for me. But I knew they weren’t. They were for the situation. Not me. What would Mom’s friends think about her after this?

“It’s going to be all right.” Dad clasped his hands in mine. “You’ll see. We’ll be together again.”

My hands shook in his. Dad’s arms came around me, holding me tight. I swallowed the knot forming in my throat. This was the second time today Dad hugged me.

I buried my face in his shirt.

“Vienna.” Mom slipped her clammy arms around me and I jerked, not expecting the touch.

“Vienna.” Mom bit her lip. “You know that—”

“Mom, it’s okay.” I didn’t want to hear her excuses. This might be our last hug, and I wanted to remember it being as positive as possible.

“Your mom means to say that we love you and we only want the best for you,” Dad said.

Sure Mom did.

I nodded and pushed out of Mom’s embrace.

Dad’s fingers tightened into my shoulders. “We’ll get you back. I promise.”

Mom walked over to the window and scrunched the drapes in her fists. “Whoever is stalking you will pay. And believe me they will pay dearly.”

Mom didn’t need to make a scene for me.

“This isn’t goodbye,” Dad whispered, “this is only until we meet next time.”

“Of course,” I said.

“We’ll miss you,” Mom said.

I pressed my lips together. It was difficult to hear the things Mom was saying. It was almost making me think she cared.

I shook my head. Mom was probably glad to be getting rid of the child with the missing gene.   

Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked out into the frigid air. Sprinkles of snowflakes danced in the air and melted at our feet.

Robotatouille gestured to the black Dodge Charger sitting in our driveway with the engine running.

“Are you ready?” Robotatouille walked to the car door.

Dad’s arms drifted away from my shoulders as I headed toward the car. Robotatouille opened the door for me, and I saw my suitcase, pillow, blankets, and cans of food in the backseat.

“Safe journey.” Robotatouille nodded and then shut the door, locking me in.

I stared at Mom and Dad through the dark, tinted windows. Would I ever see them again?

They seemed to swim away from me as we pulled out of the driveway. As if suddenly realizing, Mom stumbled forward and said something, her lips moving.

I frowned.

What are you saying?

Mom placed her hands over her heart and mouthed it again. I squinted, trying to figure it out but her lips moved in strange ways.

What looked like tears were rolling down her face. Dad held her as we started down the street. I watched until gradually they became smaller and smaller, until we turned the corner and I couldn’t see them at all.

And then it hit me. Like a rush of wind before a storm.

I knew what Mom had been trying to tell me. The way her lips moved, the way she placed her hands over her heart, the way tears rolled down her face, it was so obvious. How could I have missed it?

I played back the scene in my head. Mom’s lips moved in slow motion. The audio of her voice filled my ears. And I heard the words.

I love you.