Ultraviolet (15 page)

Okay, maybe that diatribe had been a little over his head, but what did it matter? He
still
only looked at her blankly, and suddenly all the wind went out of her. How the hell was she going to reach him? Even if he did understand her, she wasn’t even sure that they spoke the same language—it was entirely possible that he could hear her but not know how to talk. For all she knew, that monster Daxus had ordered the boy’s vocal cords surgically removed as a way of ensuring his silence, and it was highly doubtful he knew how to write. She knelt, then realized the boy still had biometers attached to his clothing; angrily, she started tearing them off. “Look,” she said, “all I’m trying to say is . . . you know, it’s for your own good. Do you . . . do you understand me?” She sighed and shook her head as she yanked off the last meter she could find. She felt like a dog too hungry—or dumb—not to keep braving the fire to get at the last possible morsel of food. “Just stick by me,” she finally told him in a tired voice. “Close, like glue. Nothing more complicated than that. Just stick by me. Okay?”

The kid still didn’t say anything, but he did surprise her by reaching out to curiously touch her face with his fingertips. She pulled back instinctively and she saw a slight frown cross his forehead, then he settled for brushing his hand across the surface of her LCD coat instead. Before she could think of what to say about this, over his shoulder she spotted a double security team pushing its way through the people on the sidewalk.

“Not good,” she said through gritted teeth. Without bothering to explain, she grabbed the boy by the hand and yanked him into the crowd in a different direction.

TWELVE

They were on the move again—when was she
not?—
and working their way quickly through another mass of people at yet another crowded mall. What a crowded planet it had become, twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year—never an end to it. Part of Violet hated the hustle and bustle, the overpopulation, and the normalcy of life all around her; on the other hand, if it wasn’t for that very same environment, she and the boy would both be dead by now.

Without stopping, she pulled a new mic-phone out of one pocket and slipped it behind her ear, bringing the mic attachment around to her mouth. Her gaze darted in every direction, on high alert mode for the first signs of a Command Security Team as she pushed a code into her memory keypad.

“Garth, it’s me,” she said urgently. “I screwed up—I screwed up
bad.
The case had a freaking kid in it, and I . . . I crossed Nerva.”

Garth’s voice came back immediately, but it was scratchy, a bad connection getting worse with each passing second because of the reinforced bars crisscrossing the mall’s roof.
“I know—he called. Don’t even think about bringing it here, V.”

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise in instant anger, almost like a wild dog’s. Was he really that easily swayed by Nerva? Or was he just scared? “Damn it, Garth—this kid might have the answer in him, but he’s got all the collaborative ability of a
cow.
I’ll be lucky just to get him out of here alive. I
need
your help!”

Nothing.

“Hello? Hello?” She tapped the mic frantically. “Garth? Hello?” Hissing with frustration, Violet snapped the phone closed. “
Damn
it! I can ride a motorcycle on the frickin’ ceiling, but I
still
can’t get a decent cell signal!”

Violet turned to the boy, and wouldn’t you know it—he was gone again. She spun but her panic was short-lived . . . at least as long as he hadn’t been noticed. He was only a few yards away, backed against the plate glass window of one of the stores and staring in openmouthed wonder at all the different people hurrying past. Right now, at least, no one seemed to be paying any attention to him. Violet was at his side in three seconds, her fingers digging firmly into his forearm. “Are you crazy?” she demanded. “What part of those bullets whizzing past your head didn’t you
get?
”

As usual, he only blinked back at her, although this time he seemed a little taken aback by her forcefulness. Again, she squashed the urge to shake him and instead waved a hand back and forth in front of his face. “Hello? Are you functional? Do you understand
anything
I’m saying to you?”

Not a word . . . not a single, damned word. Just that same lightly wary expression she’d almost come to expect and which was growing increasingly infuriating. Violet exhaled, and her air came out through gritted teeth. Some kind of techno-classical crap was blaring through the mall’s speakers, and the burbling, pseudo-happy notes coming from every direction made her feel like screaming. Who the hell chose that stuff? “Look, let’s start simple. They had to call you something, right?” She pointed to herself, then tapped her chest with a forefinger. “I’m Violet. Pleased to meet you.” On a whim, she grabbed his limp hand and gave it a perfunctory shake, then dropped it. “Your turn,” she said. “Go.”

But the boy only stared from her to his hand, as if he couldn’t believe she’d done what she had, that she had given him a touch that was friendly and not meant to just hold on to him and run, or maybe drag him back to her. The smile that slipped across her face was one of grim resignation. “I could just as easily be a barking dog, couldn’t I?” Still no response. “Hey,” she said as an idea occurred to her. She motioned him to come closer and he obeyed, regarding her cautiously as she leaned down and put her lips close to his ear. “Woof.”

When the child only stared at her with wide, amazed eyes, Violet sighed and straightened, scanning the crowd automatically for signs of trouble. Just as automatically, she glanced back at the boy—

And jerked when she realized he was holding up both his hands, one with all five digits splayed and the other with only his forefinger raised. Now it was her turn to be confused, but at the same time she felt more than a little desperate—she
needed
to be able to communicate with him, to understand. “Six?” she asked. “What’s ‘six’?”

He didn’t answer, but that no longer annoyed her. They were making progress here—maybe he couldn’t speak, maybe he wasn’t physically capable of doing so. She wasn’t a doctor and she hadn’t a clue how to check, so his sign language would have to do. As if to confirm this, the boy raised his hands higher, trying to reinforce whatever he wanted to tell her. Violet chewed her lip for a moment, then experimentally put her hands over his, intentionally folding his smaller fingers into fists. When she let him go, he brought up the same six fingers. At least now she knew it wasn’t an accident. “So . . .” She tried to think, to turn it over and work it in her mind like it was a Rubik’s Cube. One plus one, two plus two. “So ‘six’ is . . . is . . .”

The child looked at his own raised index finger, and when he was certain she was also looking at it, slowly turned the end of it around and pointed at himself.

Violet stared at him, her mouth dropping open. Of course! “It’s
you!
” she blurted. “It’s your
name?
Your name is
Six
? Like a number?”

This time he actually nodded. She watched the up and down movement like it was in slow motion, then abruptly the moment ended as she caught a glimpse of another damned security team headed in their direction. God, they multiplied like lab rats. “Damn it!” She started to pull the boy in the other direction, but a wild glance over there showed a second team already on its way. Would this never stop? They hadn’t been spotted yet, but it was only a matter of time . . . of seconds. She had a moment of crazy indecision, then she knelt jerkily in front of the child and pulled a syringe out of a flat-space pocket in her coat. “Give me your arm,” she said and reached for it. But no one was more surprised than she when he pulled away from her. “Give me your arm!” she repeated sharply.

But something about Six had changed at the sight of the syringe—his eyes had narrowed while his brow had twisted in terror. His eyes were so wide that the whites completely surrounded his blue irises. Any trust she’d managed to establish in the previous few minutes had been swallowed up by the accusation that was suddenly in the boy’s eyes. “Damn it,” Violet growled. She glanced over her shoulder—so far, so good. “I may not be able to get you where I need you to go, but I sure as hell will get your blood there. Now give me your fucking arm before I take the whole thing!”

Perhaps she had misjudged his level of comprehension, or—and this made her feel very, very small—maybe the things the ArchMinistry had done to Six in their lab were so heinous that the memories overrode every other rational thought in his head. It was a horrible thing to consider, but right now none of that mattered. “Trust me,” she said in a low and dangerous tone. “As bad as these people are, the real monster you don’t want knocking down your door is
me.
”

She grabbed for the boy’s arm again, and once more he back-stepped out of her reach. Before she could leap for him, he shocked her more than he had since she’d first opened the white briefcase and found him curled up inside it. “If I scream,” he said in a quiet and trembling voice, “we’ll both be dead.”

Violet gaped at him. “So,” she said after a second, “it speaks.” She jerked her head left and right, then slapped the syringe back into one of her flat-space pockets. There would be time for a get-to-know-each-other conversation later; right now, they had to get the hell out of this mall.

Three hallways, two escalators, and an
EMPLOYEES ONLY
exit later, Violet pulled Six to a stop in the dubious safety of the shipping and loading alley behind the mall. She pushed him bodily against the wall before kneeling to where she could look him straight in the eye. “Daxus has no idea that you can talk, does he?” When Six finally shook his head, Violet didn’t know whether to be amazed at the boy’s ability to keep a secret or at Daxus’s stupidity in not realizing the learning potential of his lethal little lab experiment. Either notion made a slow smile dust her lips—good for Six. And this little guy? Well, he had a surprising amount of moxie.

“But you
do
talk,” she said thoughtfully. When he nodded, the next step Violet had was trying to work out in her head just how big his vocabulary was, how much she would have to dumb down her conversational skills. She wasn’t skilled in talking to children, had hardly been around them at all since becoming a Hemophage. She also wasn’t pleased that he had put her through what he had—why hadn’t he just spoken up right from the start? Fear, maybe—he had probably been afraid that her getting all the information she needed right from the start would make her abandon him.

“English,” he said suddenly.

Violet started, then stared at him in amazement. “English? English-
English?
” When he nodded again, she had no choice but to accept it. “
That’s
what they spoke at the L.L.D.D. labs?” She couldn’t help being astounded when he just kept nodding. “Ad Rasul,” she said, more to herself than to him. “Probably for secrecy—no one speaks that anymore. But you understand Thaihindi . . .” Another nod, so she continued. “And you
speak
Thaihindi.” This time when he nodded, she didn’t bother to hide her look of relief. She took a deep breath and studied the child. “What do you know about what’s going on?”

He didn’t say anything, but that was all right—she was no longer worried that he didn’t understand. Growing up in a lab, he had no social skills and he certainly wasn’t going to be a conversation whiz. She would have to carry the weight here and trust in her understanding of basic body language. By the expression on his face, it was a good bet that the kid knew next to nothing and he was mightily frustrated because of it.

“Okay,” Violet continued. “Look at me, Six. You at least understand that there’s a war going on, don’t you? Between vampires and humans?” For her trouble, Violet got that same look of bewilderment. Strike one—why would they bother giving him that information? “Okay, it’s not important.” She made a quick, instinctive check of the alley, but for a change they were doing all right. “Just trust me—there’s a war to the death between humans and vampires and . . . and . . .” Her voice faded, then she tried again. “And, well, Six . . . you’re human, and . . . you’re human and . . .” She swallowed and finally just looked him straight in the eye. There was no way around the simple, stark truth. “I’m a vampire.”

Clearly he understood the concept, because Six’s eyes widened, then his breath hitched a little and his gaze darted toward the questionable safety of the well-populated sidewalk at the other end of the alley. She placed a hand on his arm, careful not to grab—this time, she just wanted to be reassuring. “Look,” she said gently. “It’s not like I suck blood or anything. I’m just a little . . . sick.”

When he looked at her, it was with that same overly wary expression, but at least he didn’t seem like he was getting ready to bolt at any second. Violet gestured at herself. “Just listen, okay? Do you remember that I said what’s in your blood might be able to save my life?” When he nodded, she gave him her best gentle smile . . . although it’d been so long since she had had a reason to look that way, she couldn’t help wondering if it was convincing. “Six, your father, Daxus—if he really is your father—he put something in your blood.” She hesitated, then shook her head. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t know why it seemed so important that she make him understand, but it was. “He
grew
something there,” she corrected. “And whatever it is, the antigens, they may hold the key to saving my life. But they were first and foremost built to kill me—and everyone like me.”

Six’s eyes narrowed again, but this time with understanding. “Then . . . those men,” he said slowly, “they’re all—”

She nodded, and the look she gave him was more serious than anything he’d seen from her before. “Yes. They’re after
you.
Right now, you’re the most valuable object on the planet.”

At the Needle, the battle was far from over.

Thanks to Violet’s incredible lapse in obedience and what Nerva could only believe was her sentimental stupidity—what else would you call her having feelings for some experimental human lab rat, anyway?—he and his only remaining two soldiers were facing the most disastrous situation they’d had in years. The human security forces were nipping at their heels like skinny little wolves hot on the trail of their next meal, and the insulated safety of their once-secret conference room was now forever out of reach. He and the other two Hemophages had gone into the stairwell after Violet when they’d gotten the report that she’d destroyed the Blood Chinois team, then they’d gotten trapped by the humans before they could get all the way down. Now they were in even worse shape—the humans had sent forces not only from below but dropped backup soldiers onto the roof from helicopters. They were headed back up and so far they’d managed to stay one floor ahead of their hunters, but now, on the twenty-fifth, they could go no farther. Each landing was segregated from the one previous and the next by locked entry doors, but they wouldn’t be alone long. Even through the metal fire doors, Nerva could hear the men’s boots tramping along the stairs from both directions.