The Rising

TWENTY-FOUR

ANTONE HAD TO LEAVE it at that, as I was soon taken away for yet another medical appointment. A psych exam. Apparently Nast was a little concerned about my mental health.

I didn’t cooperate nearly as well with that one. I mean, seriously? I’d just discovered I was a skin-walker and part of a secret science experiment, then I had been chased, nearly killed in a helicopter crash, nearly drowned by a friend, chased some more, discovered my town empty, realized my parents thought I was dead, got chased some more . . . The way I saw it, I was lucky I was still psychologically functioning at all. Of course, if I pointed that out, they’d take full credit for having “made” me strong enough to withstand this.

So I was not the most cooperative subject. Unfortunately, I couldn’t outright refuse, because that would only give them further proof of my “damaged” psychological state. So I answered the questions with the minimum required response until the psychologist got frustrated and gave up. I hoped to return to my room then. No such luck. When the shrink left, the boss came in, accompanied by Dr. Inglis.

Now it was time for “the talk.” I could have skipped it. I knew what Nast would say. The same message I’d heard at every encounter with the Cabals. Resistance is futile.

Yes, he admitted, things had gone wrong. Mina Lee shouldn’t have come poking around, arousing our suspicions. The whole forest fire and helicopter kidnapping scheme? A bureaucratic mix-up. Yes, Nast actually blamed it on confusion at the corporate level, as if some misdirected memo had killed Mayor Tillson.

“I know you’re still children—” Nast began.

Dr. Inglis cleared her throat and he amended that to “young adults.” I’m not sure which was more condescending—calling us kids or thinking we’d respond better if they humored our delusions of maturity.

“At your age, you don’t have to think about your future,” Nast continued.

“Sure, we do,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about my future a lot. Everything I’m missing. Like my hot date with Rafe for Friday or the big beer bash we had planned for Saturday night.”

His lips tightened.

“We have plans,” I said. “I want to be a veterinarian. Daniel wants to be a lawyer. Serena wanted to swim on the Olympic team and study sports psychology. You’ve heard of Serena, right? My best friend? Murdered by one of your subjects gone psycho.”

“We don’t know that for certain,” Nast said.

“She admitted it.”

Dr. Inglis inched forward. “We do agree that Nicole appears to be responsible for Serena’s death, Maya. We just don’t know if the experiment had anything to do with that. Mental illness can have many causes.”

“Whatever. We do have dreams. All of us. And none include being prisoners—or Cabal slaves—for the rest of our lives.”

“Cabal slaves?” Nast laughed. “Do my employees look that miserable? Yes, we expect a return on our investment. We expect you to work for us, in the same way that the army expects military service after paying for a college degree.”

“But people join the army knowing that. It’s a willing exchange of services.”

He waved off the distinction. “Think of it as being a very privileged young woman, which you are. You will get the best care and the best education, and when you graduate, you will have a guaranteed job waiting. A job that will pay you a six figure starting salary, in addition to covering all living expenses. How many young people dream of such an opportunity?”

“They dream of that as an option. A choice.”

Another wave as if to say, Such a petty distinction, really. “You’ll have choices, Maya. You all will. Daniel can certainly become a lawyer. The Cabal can always use more. He’d attend the Ivy League school of his choosing.” A smug smile. “We can guarantee it whatever his grades. As for you, while we don’t have much call for veterinarians, I happen to know you weren’t as set on that career as you’re pretending now. I’m sure we could find something that matched your interests.”

“You didn’t resurrect extinct species to become lawyers,” I said. “You’ll want more from us.”

“We’ll have other tasks, yes. But there’s no need to worry about that now. The point is that you will be taken care of. Very well taken care of.”

“In a gilded cage,” I said, waving at the house.

Dr. Inglis stepped forward. “No, Maya. This is just temporary. Do you remember what I said about finding you another Salmon Creek? We have. That’s where you’ll live until you go away to college. After that, you’d be free to live on your own, as any other young person would.”

Nast leaned forward. “Except you won’t be living in a dingy one-room apartment in a questionable part of town. You would get a condo your average college grad can’t afford unless she comes from a very wealthy family.” He smiled. “Which, in a way, you do.”

“What if I just want to come from the family I have now? My parents?”

Silence.

I turned to Dr. Inglis. “You said you’re setting up Salmon Creek Two. I assume it’ll be just like the first, right?”

“As close as we can get.”

“So my parents will be there?”

She looked momentarily stricken, as if she’d thought they’d come close to selling me the deal, and the decision now rested on a response she couldn’t give. I knew she couldn’t give it. But I sat there, looking expectant.

“Your father will be there,” Nast said.

I gave him a look that said I wasn’t dignifying that with a response. Then I turned back to Dr. Inglis.

“My parents will know soon, right? They’ll come live with me. Just like before?”

“I . . .”

“You remember my parents?” I said. “You’ve known them for eleven years. You’ve been to our house. You’ve gone to lunch with my mom.”

“Your adoptive parents can’t join you, Maya,” Nast said.

I kept my gaze on Dr. Inglis. “I saw you at the memorial service. And you saw them, right? My parents? They seemed okay with me being dead, didn’t they?”

She looked away fast.

“This is for the best,” Nast said. “Perhaps, if you kids hadn’t run like that, we could have avoided the ruse of your deaths.”

“Like hell!” I said, wheeling on him. “When we crashed, we were being kidnapped. Of course we ran. You never intended to return us to our parents. The crash just gave you a really good, really permanent way to do that.”

“Permanent,” he said, drawing the word out. “Yes, it is permanent, Maya, because there’s no way we can reverse it without endangering the project. Your parents are human. They know nothing of the experiment or of supernaturals in general. If they found out, they would go to the authorities, which would be catastrophic. Catastrophic for us if the authorities believed them, but more so for your parents, when they didn’t. And that’s presuming they don’t reject you outright. A girl who can change into a mountain lion?” He shook his head. “You’re not theirs. Not really. For once, I suspect they’d be glad of it.”

“My parents would never—”

“Of course they wouldn’t,” Dr. Inglis cut in. “They will mourn you. Deeply mourn you. But, after a time, they will move on. In fact, we’re pulling in the full medical resources of both the Nast and St. Cloud corporations. When your mother is ready, we’re going to offer to help her conceive.”

“Help her . . . ?”

“Many advances have been made in the years since they adopted you. We firmly believe that, with the right treatments, your parents could have a child of their own.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s like . . . it’s like losing your dog-pound mutt and getting a purebred puppy in its place. They’re so lucky.”

My hands started to pulse. I looked down at them, certain I was imagining things. But I wasn’t. The skin had begun to ripple.

Why was I shifting? It only seemed to happen when I got stressed. Sure, I wasn’t happy with this conversation, but they’d said nothing I didn’t expect. I was annoyed and frustrated, but my heart was chugging along at a normal—

Almost as soon as I thought that, it sped up so fast I had to gasp for breath. What was happening to me?

“Maya?” Dr. Inglis said.

I turned to her and when I saw her face, rage filled me. Blind rage, like in my room, with Nast. But I wasn’t enraged with her. I was annoyed and frustrated and hurt. Yet as that untethered rage shot through me, it brought a wave of memories, of all the times I’d trusted her, all the times my parents had trusted her. As if my brain was finding reasons for the anger.

I gripped the arms of the chair and closed my eyes.

“Maya?”

Dr. Inglis touched my shoulder and I had to clench the chair harder to keep from smacking her hand away.

“She’s shifting,” Nast murmured as if I couldn’t hear.

No, as if I don’t matter. As if I’m nothing more than—

The rage surged and I clamped down as hard as I could.

“Maya?” Dr. Inglis said. “Can you tell us what you’re feeling? What you’re thinking?”

I’m thinking of launching out of this chair and taking you down. I’m thinking of putting my hands around your throat—

I jerked forward, a whimper escaping.

What the hell was happening to me? It was like I was outside myself, watching a stranger—

Annie’s words came back. It was like watching myself. No, watching someone who looked like me and felt a bit like me, but wasn’t, not really.

No. I wasn’t reverting. I was stressed out, and they were making it worse by telling me to forget my parents. They’ll certainly forget you . . . after we give them a real daughter.

My arms started to throb.

Don’t think about that. Think about anything except your parents and Ash and Daniel . . . Daniel out there, injured, maybe even—

Do not think about that!

I took a deep breath and struggled to think of something innocent and meaningless. Think back to what I’d been doing before all this happened. Back in Salmon Creek before everything started with Rafe and Mina Lee.

Biology. I’d had a midterm coming up and I’d really wanted to ace it. I was always in competition with Brendan in bio and we’d laid a wager on who would do better this time. Winner got lunch at the Blender, which meant I needed to win, because Brendan could really pack away—

“Maya?” Dr. Inglis shook my shoulder.

Damn it, no. Leave me—

“She’s stopped it,” Dr. Inglis said.

I opened my eyes and saw her staring at me. When I looked down at my hands, they’d gone back to normal. The rage had evaporated.

Dr. Inglis bent in front of me. “That was excellent, Maya. Can you tell me how you reversed the process?”

Nast brushed her aside. “That’s not important. Tell us what happened, Maya. You got angry, didn’t you? I could see it.”

I looked at him, then turned to Dr. Inglis. “I’d like to leave now.”

“You’ll leave when—” Nast began.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea,” said a voice behind us.

I turned to see Antone in the doorway, his hand still on the knob, his breath coming fast, like he’d been running. Moreno stood behind him.

Nast rose. “If you want to watch this discussion, Calvin, the video feed is active.”

“I’ve been watching.” He walked in. “Under the terms of our agreement, sir, I am allowed to veto any treatment of my daughter. I’m going to ask that you allow me to cut this interview short. It’s been too much for her and the strain is clearly showing.”

“That isn’t strain,” Nast said. “She’s reverting. You know it and I know it, and coddling the girl isn’t going to change that.”

As they argued, Dr. Inglis tried to reassure Antone, verbally tripping over herself. Behind him, Moreno rolled his eyes and shot a smirk my way, as if we were sharing some secret.

Finally, Nast agreed they were done with the interview anyway, so Antone could take me. He led me out as Moreno stayed behind to talk to Nast.

“You started to shift, didn’t you?” Antone whispered as we walked down the hall.

I considered ignoring him, but that seemed petty. Not just petty but unwise. What’s that saying about the fire and the frying pan? Antone was my frying pan. It wasn’t a comfortable place to be, but it was safe, at least compared to the fire.

“I did.”

“I know what they were saying wasn’t easy to hear, but you didn’t seem that angry.”

“I wasn’t. Not until . . .”

“Until what? Did they say something to trigger it?”

“I . . . I don’t think so. I was okay. And then . . . and then I wasn’t. I don’t know how to explain—”

“Calvin!”

Pumps clicked on the hardwood as Dr. Inglis jogged toward us. Antone looked back, then turned away and kept walking.

“Calvin, please.”

He slowed until she caught up.

“I’m so sorry about—” she began.

He stopped so abruptly she fell back. “You were supposed to be in there for me. In my stead. Watching out for my daughter’s interests.”

“I—”

“I trusted you, Maggie, and when things went wrong, you were right in there, pushing Maya as hard as he was.”

Her mouth opened and closed, and she stared up at him with . . . Oh God. I recognized that look. Any teenage girl did.

Dr. Inglis had a crush on my biological father. A serious, starry-eyed, “OMG, I’d do anything for you” kind of crush.

Ick.

I suppose I shouldn’t say that. I’m not the kind of kid who freaks out when I catch my parents kissing. I don’t think romance is reserved for those under the age of twenty. And yet, seeing Dr. Inglis making goo-goo eyes at Antone just seemed creepy. She was an attractive, smart, accomplished woman. She shouldn’t be simpering over any man.

I suspect it didn’t seem as creepy to Antone. But he didn’t exactly return her moonstruck gaze. Just stood there, looking pissed.

“I’m sorry, Calvin. I thought I was helping. It won’t happen again.”

He hesitated, as if considering. “Have you gotten the results of Maya’s physical yet?”

“No, but I’ll do that right away.”

He didn’t exactly smile, but his face relaxed and she breathed an audible sigh of relief. I looked at him. You’re using her. You know how she feels and you’re using her. And . . . and I don’t care. Part of me feels bad for her, but mostly, I’m beyond that. Whatever works. Whatever helps.