Plagued: Book 1 (21 page)

“And swashbuckle!” Raj and Michelle waved their curved stage cutlasses in the air.

Quill kept his hold on her, one arm around her waist, as they positioned themselves for the camera.

“Smile, Sky,” Quill whispered, his lips brushing her ear and making her shiver. “This evening is going to be delightful.”

“Relax,” said the photographer. “You're here to have fun.”

'No,'
Sky thought frantically. I'm here to spring my date's mom from the jail in order to contact a group of traitors and convince them to hand over a supply of monster-making vaccine. I'm with the boy who kidnaped my sister, shot my aunt's dog and now has my mother captive. So pretty much the opposite of fun.

Chapter 21

Blood Sport

The whole squad stopped to take in the scene as they entered the main ballroom. Even Sky let herself forget, for a moment, who she was holding hands with. Life was not a fairy tale. No one was going to rescue her. She'd been a soldier long enough to know she might not survive tonight. This would be a beautiful image to hold onto, she thought, as her world fell apart.

Circling the dance floor was a forest of tall green wooden cut-out trees from a previous ball. They'd interspersed them with a dozen fir trees the Christmas Tree farm donated. The donation was all thanks to some smooth talking by Rickey, who was not above playing the disabled card and even cried a little, he said, to get them. The forest was draped with pretend spider web and covered in fairy lights. White cloth stapled around the bases looked like snow drifts.

Sorting through the boxes in storage from previous Balls, someone discovered several dozen black and green striped, bendable spiders about two-feet across. They hung them from the trees or entwined them in the branches. Daphne thought they looked too scary and personally cut out lacy black and white paper butterfly wings. She attached the wings to each one saying they were fairy spiders and draped lights all around them. Though it sounded stupid, the effect was so adorable, even Andrea had to agree they looked great.

Sky's team made six white wolves out of chicken wire and
papier mache
with red lights set in them for glowing eyes. Standing, sitting, and crouching. In the daylight, they'd looked pretty lame. Here, beneath the spider web and sparkling strands of lights, they seemed almost ominously real. Someone else had dug up a bear skin rug. They flocked it white and set it on a wire stand so it looked like a polar bear crouched in the forest. Andrea pointed out polar bears don't live in forests but she'd been voted down. Everyone loved the bear and it, too, was draped with white lights.

Directly opposite the doors on the other side of the dance floor was the buffet and carving station – soldiers travel on their stomach even if it's only to a dance. Here the Decoration Committee placed cut and painted houses and backdrops from over-sized wooden boxes and cardboard to look like an old European village.

Squealing with delight, Mary and Melissa, Sara Anne, and Chloe ran onto the dance floor. Chase and Daphne headed for the buffet and Raj and Michelle walked towards the forest. Quill and Sky were alone.

“What have you done to my mother,” her voice was anguished and she realized she was near tears. “Please Quill. Where's Hugo.”

“My brother has other business to attend to for the exchange of blood money. I'm taking his place. We will meet him inside the old cineplex.”

“That's not the deal,” she hissed.

“The deal, like viruses, is constantly mutating. It is what I say it is at the moment. This is not my father's game, it is mine. Should you want to see your family alive and well, you'll do exactly what I say when I say.”

Maddeningly, Quill insisted on acting as though they actually were on a date. Boyfriend, girlfriend, kisses on the cheek, holding hands and sharing secrets, sort of date. Chatting amiably and eloquently with her friends, pulling her onto the dance floor.

He was an energetic and accomplished dancer. Old Korean Boy Band sort of accomplished. He drew admiring stares from everyone at his grace and rhythm.

Sky spent the evening in a state of silent hysteria. She had to run to the bathroom three times as her stomach dissolved from tension. Not that there was much left inside. Still, good thing she was wearing such a fluffy costume that was easy to pull up and down. Honestly, she didn't know what she was doing or how to cope. Several times she asked, pleaded, with Quill to stop, just stop all of it.

Laughing easily, he refused. He did, however, promise her Kara and her mother were safe and well.

“How can I believe you? You're crazy.”

They were standing under the fairy lit trees, watching the dancers. “Why do people keep saying that to me?” he sounded genuinely confused. “I'm not a psychopath. I just understand what needs to be done and I do it.”

“You killed Tricia, my aunt's poodle. She was a good dog,” Sky choked up as she said the words. An image of the apricot poodle lying silent and still on the floor.

She was surprised to see his face change. He looked almost troubled.

“Yes, I needed to make a point. You did not know me nor my intent. Now you do.”

“What I know is that you're a psychotic bastard.” Sky felt her eyes tearing up and rubbed them away roughly with the back of her hand. “She was a sweet little dog and I loved her.”

“Did you? I love so little. Such has been my fate.”

She looked to see if he was laughing at her. His face remained serious.

“Is...is Kara still alive?”

He raised his eyes, meeting her look. “Yes, of course. We are negotiating tonight for her, I beg your pardon,
their
release. Kara and the glorious Emily Murphy, love of my father's life.”

“How can I believe you?”

He leaned close, holding her shoulders tightly so Sky could not pull away. “I speak bitter truths, Skylar. My brother is full of nothing except sweet lies. You would do well to consider the difference. You think I'm the only one who planned exactly how this night would proceed?”

Sky didn't know what to say. She couldn't, she
wouldn't
believe that Hugo was part of her mother's kidnapping.

He raised one eyebrow. “I see you shaking your lovely head ever so slightly. You don't believe me. You should. I almost inevitably tell the truth to my family and friends. They just don't like what I say. That's very different from lying.”

After that, he would speak no more on the matter of Sky's mother and sister.

Her squad embraced him enthusiastically. Quill danced with the twins and Daphne. Talked soccer with Chase and held Sara Ann and Chloe's fairy wands as they filled their plates at the buffet. While Sky couldn't' take a bite, Quill fully enjoyed turkey and roast beef from the carving station, also fetching them both sodas from the bar.

A slow song came on and Quill laid his plate aside to pull her to the dance floor. He held two lives in his hands, she could not refuse.

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly. Quill was much taller than she. Her face was pressed into his chest and she could feel his heart beating steadily next to her cheek. He moved her slowly and gracefully among the other dancers. Everyone intent on their partner, no one paid attention to the haunted look in her eyes, the strained smile she knew even her poker face could not hide. Gradually as the dancers pressed closer, Sky became aware of a scent both sweet and spicy, like cloves and...she considered. Bergamot. Yes, bergamot and a dash of black pepper. Breathing it in, she felt her face flush and her heart beat slightly faster. It was a very masculine scent and unlike anything she had encountered. There were hints of Hugo's individual scent. Since they were brothers, maybe that was to be expected. Yet, Quill smelled very different. Dancing so closely, breathing him in, she could feel some of the tension draining from her with every breath. What was happening was beyond her control, as though she was drugged.

“My father is a true romantic,” Quill spoke softly. “He never stopped loving your mother. He hoped somehow his boys would meet her girls and find the happiness he and Emily never did.”

Sky had no idea what he wanted her to say or where this was going.

“He genetically engineered us rather from the ground up, though my mother never knew it. Built our pheromones on a very precise platform. One that would be attractive to you. He had your mother's DNA samples and managed to procure that of your father as well. He figured they would have girls, based on his calculations.”

“So what are you saying?” She tipped her head back so she could look him in the eyes. “Your father was playing genetic matchmaker to bring us together?”

“I told you, better loving through chemicals. Unfortunately, he couldn't know that our government would inject both Hugo and I
in vitro
with the generic vaccine. Thus ensuring a visit by Social Services. But he's managed it somehow. We're here aren't we? The whole family. Yours and mine. And you like me.” He gave her a sly, cold smile. “You can't help yourself.”

“Liar,” she hissed. She couldn't believe his father was so calculating. No one was. Engineering their children to fall in love with someone else's? That was science fiction.

“All true, dear little Sky. That's me your feeling,” he whispered. “The flush to your cheeks, the indefinable softness in your body, the surrender. Your body is telling you, 'he's the one.' I was using a pheromone suppressant spray before. I know about that nose of yours. Didn't want you sniffing me out.”

“
That's
why you had no individual scent in my Aunt's kitchen.”

Tugging her long hair with one hand, he pulled it gently to tip her chin higher. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across her forehead. Softly. Slowly. She tried to pull away. He gripped her tightly around the waist, the fingers of his other hand digging into her skin. “I decided I wanted to meet you as myself there in the kitchen. That way you would learn to know me for
me.
Not because of my father's chemical concoctions.”

“Know you as a maniac!” She tried to jerk one knee up, hoping to hurt him. He was faster, seemingly able to anticipate her every move. Twirling her once, he made the whole action look like a dance move, pulling her once more into his tight embrace. Sky felt like a rabbit caught in the coils of a boa constrictor.

He laughed.“See how well we're getting along?”

“You're a
bastard
. You said you came here to kill me. Not make me like you.”

“Not like, love.” His gave a wicked smile that made his eyes sparkle. “And love and hate are all so tangled together. At least I wasn't trying to bewitch you. Unlike my brother. You think he doesn't know exactly what effect his chemical make-up has on you?”

Her eyes flashed up. His clear green ones stared unblinkingly back.

“You think I'm lying. Or, you
wish
you thought I was lying.”

She tried to wriggle out of his grip.“I don't want to talk to you anymore.”

“Fine, the time for action is almost upon us.” He relaxed his hold and pushed her toward the doors, “Shall we go to the locker room and get you out of those clothes?”

Chapter 22

Blood Work

“You do realize there are cameras here?” She pointed at the small black dome set in the ceiling as they walked into the empty locker room. “We're under surveillance.”

“Not when you're with me, young Murphy-Christensen.”

“What do you mean?”

He made a zipping motion across his lips. “Less talk, more walk.” 

He ordered her to change out of her costume and into her uniform. Lockers were co-ed. If he thought she'd be embarrassed to change in front of him, he was wrong. She stripped down as fast as she could, not knowing what was coming next.

He didn't stare. He was busy transforming his own costume. The harlequin coat reversed to a dull, matte black material. He removed the vest and shirt, revealing a tight, long-sleeved black T-shirt with a fish-scale pattern. A pair of plastic zip-tie manacles were fastened to the side of his pants. Pulling apart the mask, Sky saw him peel away two long strips of electronic components that he fastened around each wrist. Delicate looped wires stretched from each band to slip over the pointer and index fingers of his hands. Finally, he twisted the heels of both boots, emptying out two shiny silver cylinders with a black ring around the middle.

“Hold these for me.” He tossed them to Sky and she tucked whatever they were in her pant's pocket.

“Come on.”

She hung back. “Come one
where?
”

“To get my mother out of the brig,” he said slowly, like she was mentally challenged.

“That wasn't part of the deal. I'm not committing treason.”

“Fine,” he pulled the phone out of his jacket and tapped the screen. “Do it,” he said.

There was a scream of pain and the screen focused on her mom's face, twisted in anguish, her eyes rolled back in her head.

“Stop it!” Sky kicked out at Quill, trying to bring him down. “Stop or I'll kill you, I swear.” Flicking off the safety, she brought her gun up, level with his head. “Stop!”

Quill rolled his eyes. “Minion,” he spoke to the phone. “What happens if I get hurt?”

The screen momentarily showed a man's face before he turned it to focus on a wide, jagged hunting knife. “I skin her,” said the voice through the speaker. “Then the girl.”

Quill looked expectantly at Sky, one eyebrow high.

Despite what she said at Hugo's house yesterday, the moral high ground was going to have to stay unclaimed. At least by her. The image of the knife and her mother was too much. Cringing inwardly, she realized this was a step she could not come back from. She was leaving the greater good behind. She'd been taught that's what cowards did. Choosing themselves over others' welfare. Then she was a coward. She could not leave her mother and Kara to the knife. Sky lowered the gun.

“I thought so.” Spinning on his heel, Quill walked back the way they'd come.

Still fastening the velcro closures on her vest, Sky jogged out the door behind him.

A short distance from the brig, he stopped. “Now comes the fun part.” He handed her the zip-tie manacle. “Put these on me.”

She did as he said.

“Take the hood and envelope out of my back pocket. There's an I.D. inside with the papers. Put the hood on and march me into the detention center.”

“And then do I get my mother and sister back?”

“Don't worry, that will be part of the evening's agenda in due course.”

Despite the hood, he walked confidently across the compound to the squat concrete bunker that housed the detention center cells and interrogation rooms. Most of the building was underground.

“Scan in the I.D. I gave you.”

She did as he said. The blinking red light at the entrance switched to green, the doors slid open. Inside was a secure reception area with the desk behind bullet-proof glass and reinforced concrete.

There was only one soldier on duty, a woman with a tablet in front of her. Her fingers were flicking over the screen, restlessly scrolling as if she was online.

“Yeah?” She spoke in a bored voice, not even looking up.

What was Sky supposed to say? Quill hadn't told her any cover story.

Saying nothing, she handed the papers he'd given her.

“And?” the woman said.

'And what?'
she thought.

The woman's eyes flicked to the card in her hand.

Sky pushed it forward.

Scanning it and the orders, the woman slid a key card through the slot and waved them towards a scanner with two sealed doors on either side. “Stow your weapons in the box at the door. Step in, stand next to him, not behind. Wait until the scanner gives the okay. Then proceed to Cell 44B. All the way back and then right. Don't go down the stairs.”

Panic rising in her throat, Sky followed her directions. Quill must be packing some sort of weaponry and she had those two metal cylinders. They would be discovered for sure.

As they stepped through and the doors shut, red lights crisscrossed the interior, beaming restlessly over and around them in a body scan. She saw Quill move his fingers and a little buzz of energy leaped from him to her like an electric shock. A shower of sparks crackled above them and the beams flared brighter, shooting every which way before the wiring boxes on the ceiling shattered entirely. The box began to fill rapidly with smoke. Sky jumped as sparks rained down.

“Help!” she shouted, pounding on the plexiglass. “Get us
out!
”

“What the hell!” The woman dropped the tablet and began punching buttons. The door into the Detention Center slid back. Sky pushed Quill and they stumbled forward. Both of them coughing and gagging on the acrid smoke.

The overhead sprinklers kicked in as they emerged and a fire alarm began to
whoop
as the smoke from the scanner seeped into the hallway.

“Go!” The soldier motioned them away. “Just go while I turn off the goddamn alarm.”

Sky saluted automatically. The woman wasn't even looking.

Once they were out of sight, Quill gave a twist of his hands and the restraints fell away.

The sprinklers in this part of the Detention Center had not been activated. “There are still cameras on in here,” Sky pointed out.

Black camera boxes were embedded in the ceiling every so many yards.

Quill aimed his fingers at them and made shooting motions. “
Pow, pow, pow!
Not anymore.”

She saw the red light on every camera he pointed to blink off.

“How?”

“Later. Come on.” He pulled the hood off and threw it aside. “She's downstairs.”

Quill ran ahead, taking pieces of something from his jacket pockets. She couldn't see what he was doing but their use became apparent very quickly. An armed man in uniform stood at the top of the stairs. He aimed the thing he'd assembled at them.

“Halt! Who are you and what are you...”

He didn't get to finish. A jagged bolt of electricity shot from the weapon in Quill's hand. The guard fell to the floor, twitching uncontrollably.

Quill brought the weapon, which looked like a stapler of all things, up to his lips and blew at imaginary smoke from the barrel.

They could hear feet pounding in their direction from the corridor below.

Pocketing the weapon, he calmly pointed at her pocket. “The cylinders.”

She pulled them out and tossed the pieces. He caught both with one hand. Flashing her a crooked smile, Quill twisted one once and tossed it to the floor below.

An explosion out of all proportion to the size of the projectile engulfed the hallway. The sound of the shock grenade roared up the staircase with enough force to knock Sky off her feet completely. Quill, still smiling, stood easily as though the shock wave traveled
around
him.

His mouth moved and Sky couldn't hear the words at first for the ringing in her ears. He stepped over and pulled her to her feet. She half fell, half walked down the stairs as he dragged her roughly along.

Two men lay writhing on the floor. Quill stopped at each and pushed the weapon he held against their neck. The spark of light flicked out. They jerked once and lay still.

“Did you kill them?” Sky said staring at the still forms.

He laughed. Quill seemed to be enjoying himself. “They'll wish they were dead when they finally wake up. We don't want anyone raising the alarm quite yet. Come on.”

“What about the soldier in reception?”

He pushed her down on her knees at the bottom of the staircase. “Speaking of...”

“Frederick, Cooper!” a woman's voice called loudly. “Respond.”

'Don't move,” Quill whispered.

Sky heard the soldier at the top of the stairs.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Quill stepped out from the side of the metal stairs. He used Sky as a springboard to launch himself from a standing start twenty feet up the staircase with the grace and power of a Bengal tiger. Grabbing   the soldier around the neck, he pulled her with him into a backward somersault. Sky scrambled out of the way as they tumbled down. The woman flailed wildly. Quill looked in perfect control. When they landed on the floor, he slipped around fast, coming behind and pulling her gun up and over her head. He used the butt of the weapon to strike her. The soldier dropped in an untidy sprawl.

Without waiting, Quill ran down the long corridor, keeping an eye on the cell numbers until he came to 31A. “Come on, use the key card.”

“It's for 44B,” she protested.

“This isn't a
hotel
. The cards actually work on any door.”

She did as he said, the door slid back and Sky saw a woman inside. Bruised and battered, both eyes blackened, her blond hair in knots. Her white T-shirt and bright yellow drawstring pants with POW across the front were stained with sweat and blood. Even in this condition, Sky recognized her as the woman from the porch at Hugo's house.

“Bastards,” Quill growled. “I'll cut their throats for this.”

He moved to help the woman, she waved him away.

“I can walk. Let's go,” she said tersely.

With Quill in the lead and Sky at the rear, they went back the way they'd come, stopping by the unconscious guards. She needed to change out of her prison garb or she'd be spotted immediately.

The woman's uniform was too short; one of the men's was tall enough. Working quickly, Quill pulled off jacket, boots, and pants, tossing them to his mother.

She stripped out of the POW shirt and pants, struggling hurriedly into the uniform. When she wasn't beaten up, Sky thought Helena St. James must be a strikingly beautiful woman. It was obvious Quill had inherited his sensual good looks from her.

“Transport?” Helena barked.

“Handled. I met a girl from the motor pool willing to part with any number of things for a price.” He gave his sly, crooked smile. “Among them, information. Come on, there's a van in the parking lot with everything we need.”

No one stopped them as they exited the Detention Center. No one paid any attention at all.

“Why isn't the fire department here?” Sky asked as they took off running.

“Blocked the signal, didn't I?” His voice sounded smug. “Set up a little black box earlier in the evening making sure the alarm would only loop back internally.”

Jogging to the parking lot, Quill brought them quickly to a white van with government plates.

Inside, he pulled out three, well, Sky weren't sure what they were. Harnesses and fuel tanks of some kind. As he laid them out, she understood. They were jet packs. Seniors trained on them with simulators. She and her squad had watched a session once.

Grabbing one, he talked as he fastened the heavy contraption across her chest. “Have you flown these before?

“Of course not! Even Seniors only fly them virtually. You have to be regular Guard. A grown-up.”

“You're a gamer though. It will be easy. Think of the handles as a joystick. Right button for thrust. Left for braking. Use both wrists to steer. Just follow me. Oh, and here.”

His mom already had hers on, locked and loaded. She pulled a long silver pin attached to a chain  and slapped a button in the middle of the harness before rocketing almost silently into the air. Sky watched, as Helena sped up, disappearing over the fence.

“Just like that,” said Quill smiling broadly.

She grabbed his sleeve. “What about drones? They'll shoot us down without the proper codes.”

The U.S. military had coped with the lack of boots on the ground quite well. Automated drones patrolled the skies, crisscrossing counties, states, and the coastline. Drone warfare the unforgiving muscle behind secure borders and safe transport. Most drones were controlled by computers, not human operators on the ground. The machines didn't care if you were carrying a cargo of puppies and wide-eyed orphans. If you traveled through restricted areas without proper codes, you were dead.

“These are programmed with codes for cadet training.” He slipped the straps and closed the buckles with practiced ease. “Oh and this.” He slapped a sticky black patch over her name tag. “There. We're good to go. One, two and...” He pulled the pin on her chest, slapped the ignition button and Sky shot straight up.