Toys

Chapter 82

“Of course it’s me. Are you strong enough to stand on your own?” she asked. I nodded, and we moved apart.

Like she’d promised, the viselike grip of pain in my skull was easing, and my thinking seemed clearer already. Suddenly, I remembered a whole lot of things that had happened after the motorcycle crash-Russia, England, France, Lucy, the murder of my parents by Jax Moore.

“Lizbeth planted a chip in my brain?” I groaned, lowering my face into my hands. “Is that true, Lucy? Careful now, I don’t think I can handle too many more lies.”

“Poor Hays. I started suspecting the worst when the Elites kept following us, and the MI7 confirmed it during that phony interrogation in London. That’s why Sir Nigel sent you to the meeting in France.”

“What?” I jerked my head up and stared at her. “He wanted to get the resistance leaders killed? That’s insane, Lucy. Even if there is a war going on.”

“Take it easy, Hays. He wanted the Elites to think they’re dead,” Lucy said. “So we set up a ruse, a very clever one. Those were just clones at the chateau. No one died. The real leaders are in hiding, and still hard at work. Desperate measures for desperate times. This is a war-to the death. Hopefully, not ours.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to grasp all that I was hearing now. I’d suspected Lucy of treachery at first, but the real informant was me. And Sir Nigel had played me like a piano. As an ex-agent, I had to admire that-but the thought of the massacre still made me clench my teeth until they hurt. It helped a little to know the real Chantal Dugare wouldn’t die loathing me.

And now-what? — the Elites had used another chip to block out my memory of the recent past? I should be honored, I suppose. They’d gone to a lot of trouble-sophisticated technology, careful planning, and the deceit they were carrying on now. Lizbeth had even used sex to lull me, and with her obvious disgust for humans, she must have forced herself back into our bed. No wonder she’d seemed edgy after half a dozen orgasms.

“They’ve got another use for me,” I said. “That’s why they’re still playing me.”

“So do we, Hays.” Lucy’s gaze was apologetic but intense. “Sorry, but that’s what you get for being who you are.”

“Mr. Popularity,” I muttered. “So what do you want me to do now? How may I serve?”

“Just go along with them, Hays, like your memory’s still blanked out. We need to find out how they plan to strike. We’re pretty sure it won’t be militarily. Sir Nigel now believes that those preparations in the field are a smoke screen. The annihilation of the human race won’t involve hand-to-hand combat.”

I shook my head hard, still trying to clear it. “I was just getting used to being a double agent. Now I’m what-a triple agent?”

Then Lucy surprised me by grasping my hands in hers.

“Hays, you have to be ruthless from here on. Everything, and I mean everything, depends on making them believe you still think you’re an Elite.” Her grip tightened. “No matter what happens, keep reminding yourself: if they win, we’re all dead. You too.”

Strangely, I couldn’t find any words to speak. I was lost in the sudden awareness that I’d never looked into eyes that were so clear and sincere. So human, I suppose.

Lucy finally lowered her gaze and let go of my hands. “I’ve got to keep moving. There are police all over-looking for me. I’ll try to stay in touch. If it doesn’t work out that way, well, you turned out to be pretty great.”

With that said, she slammed the truck’s rear door shut, jumped into the driver’s seat, and then took off.

I started back toward home, still shaken by the recent burst inside my head-and much more disturbed by what I’d just learned about dear, sweet Lizbeth.

But by the time I got back to our apartment, my shock was overpowered by anger. At least I knew what side I was on now.

Hays Baker is no Elite!.. Hays Baker is human!