And prove Sienna’s innocence, I didn’t have to say, because everyone already knew it. They were only steps behind me as I charged up the hill with a purpose.

  26.

  Sienna

  I awoke gasping, again.

  In the infirmary, again.

  To the sight of Dr. Helen Slaughter standing a little distance back, with a clipboard, working on it with a pen, not even raising an eyebrow as I gasped to life strapped to a gurney.

  Again.

  “Damn, is it Groundhog Day?” I asked. My body felt perfectly fine, which told me she’d done the same thing as before, taking me off suppressant to let my body heal, then dosed me with it again because my bonds felt nice and tight and immovable compared to how they would have been if I’d had my powers.

  The doctor did not look up. As per freaking usual.

  “You probably don’t know about Groundhog Day,” I said, testing my bonds just to be sure I couldn’t Hulk out of them. “It starred your old pal Bill Murray. Andie McDowell was in the female lead role, though you could have done it in a walk. She’s got a little more of that sweet innocence thing over you, though. Your turn as Ripley in Aliens was bound to affect how people perceived you—”

  Apparently, that was enough to finally draw the doctor’s ire, because she let the clipboard slip to her side. “Feeling better, are we?”

  “Yes, and thank you for asking, doctor,” I said. “I was beginning to worry on your behalf. I mean, I’ve had some shitty doctors before, but you were getting dangerously close to taking the cake. It was between you and my brother’s girlfriend, kinda neck and neck there, but asking about how I feel? You pulled it out at the buzzer. Well done. Isabella remains in pole position for worst doctor. Bravo.”

  She stared at me evenly. “I like you better when you’re unconscious.”

  “Well, you’ll love me as a cadaver, then,” I said, lifting my head, the only part of me not strapped down. “Which is where I’m likely to be headed if Clara survived.”

  “She did.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Gert survived, too, but you don’t seem worried about her.”

  “The beast?” I shook my head. “All brawn, no brains. Get her alone, I can kill her. This two-on-one shit is for the birds, though.”

  The doctor just stared at me, cool as ever. “Gert can grow her strength to the point where she can kill you with one hit.”

  “She can kill me with one hit without growing herself, doc,” I said. “That’s the point she regularly misses, in her attempts to inflate herself to look cool. Even a low-level meta can kill a human with a single punch if they know what they’re doing. But Gert’s an idiot who doesn’t have a clue. She’s all about pain and humiliation. That’s her weakness. She wants to make me suffer. Clara just wants me dead at this point, and she’s damned wary of me.” I swore under my breath. “That’s going to be a problem.”

  The doctor took in my words without much in the way of expression. “You talk about them so coldly. So analytically. And you’re planning to kill them.”

  “I notice you’re not reporting me for saying so.”

  “How do you know that?” She brandished her clipboard. “I could be filling out a report right now about your scheming.”

  “Well, if you are, I imagine no one around here gives a damn,” I said. “I’m impressed with the Darwinian ethos in this place.” I looked around for something interesting and failed to find anything. The infirmary was completely squared away. Whatever Dr. Slaughter’s faults, messiness was not among them.

  “Isn’t that how you’ve lived your life?” the doctor asked. “‘Might makes right’? Or at least, makes you right?”

  “No,” I said. “Might makes me able to protect people who can’t protect themselves.”

  “Is that so?” The doctor’s eyes flashed with amusement and she took a step back to a gurney behind her, covered over with a white sheet. She flipped it back, and Belle McEvers’s charred corpse lay there, scorched to the skull, exposed teeth grinning at the ceiling.

  “She made her choices,” I said, probably a touch defensively.

  “So did you,” the doctor said, leaving the corpse uncovered. “Ones that led you here. Just as hers did. What’s the difference between you?”

  “I don’t kill people simply because they’ve pissed me off,” I said. “Or for fun. It’s a serious business to me. I kill for self-preservation or the preservation of others.”

  The doctor’s eyes flitted to Belle. “Where did she fit in? Self-preservation, I imagine?”

  “It wouldn’t have been my first choice,” I said, “but I guess when pushed, choosing to throw myself in front of the flames took a back seat to throwing an unrepentant mass murderer on that grenade.” I didn’t blink away from looking straight at the burnt corpse. My guilt was barely a twinge.

  “Why?” the doctor asked, very coolly. “What makes your life worth more than hers?”

  The answer came immediately. “I don’t know that it is, but I know what I’m going to do with mine when I get out of here.”

  She almost smiled here. “Oh, you’re going to get out, are you?”

  “I am,” I said. “It’s inescapable fate.”

  “Hmm. And what is it you’re going to do when you get out?”

  “I’m going to save the world,” I said. “I’m going to save people. It’s the only thing I’m good at, so … I’m going to do it.” I looked right at the corpse. “You know what Belle was going to do if she ever got out?” She cocked her head at me. “Not a damned thing except maybe kill some more people.”

  The doctor stared at me, some sort of storm brewing behind surprisingly calm eyes. I could only see a hint of it; her control was master level. “You seem so very certain of that, for a woman who’s not a Cassandra.”

  “Most people don’t know about Cassandras,” I said, staring at her. “The fact that you do marks you as … somewhat special, doc.”

  “I’m the prison doctor for a metahuman supermax,” she said, putting her clipboard behind her back. “It’s my job to know.”

  “Two funny things about what you just said. One … this isn’t a supermax.” I stared her down. “In a supermax, the inmates are basically in solitary confinement all day, every day. That’s the damned point of a supermax. But we don’t have that here. Which is interesting to me, since if any class of inmates justified that level of supervision and clampdown … superpowered would seem to be the class.”

  “The Supreme Court ruled it unconstitutional,” the doctor said. “You know this. And there are a few meta prisoners here under that level of care. I’m sure you know this as well.”

  “Am I heading to solitary after that fight?” I asked.

  She wavered, only a little. “Solitary’s just being confined to your own cell. But no—you’re going back to gen pop.”

  “Then something is rotten in the state of Denmark,” I said. “I’ve killed one inmate and damned near killed another, but they won’t put me in solitary? The fix is in. Someone wants me dead, fast.”

  “What was your second ‘funny thing’ about my previous statement?” the doctor asked.

  “As near as I can tell—and keep in mind I was the head of the FBI’s metahuman hunting division for years—there’s no real record of different types of metas available to the government. What is there is woefully incomplete.” I stared down the doctor. “Cassandra types aren’t something that the US government would have regular access to—”

  “I read your mission report from London five years ago,” the doctor said, turning back to her clipboard very casually. “You encountered one there. A Philip Delsim, I believe.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Yes … I did. But how did a prison doctor get access to FBI reports?”

  “I’m cleared for quite a few things,” the doctor said. She was so lying. “I’m a Department of Justice employee at a prison that’s never been toured by the press. Working here requires a security clearance.”

  “Yeah, but why would they give you access to FBI reports?” I asked. “That makes zero sense. You’re just a doctor.”

  She looked up again. Completely indifferent. “A less secure person might take that as an insult.”

  “A more effective liar might have come up with a story that smelled less like bullshit on the face of it.” I struggled against my bindings, to no avail. “Come on, doc. Don’t BS me. You saved my life in Minnesota in January. You came out of nowhere and delivered me from the cops, from the damned Terminator—”

  “I don’t know a Terminator—”

  “Come on, Ripley,” I said. “Let’s get right to it—you’re not from here—”

  “Minnesota? You’re right about that.”

  “You’re here for me,” I said, staring her down.

  “You’re a prisoner in the most secure facility in the world,” she said, meeting my eyes. God, she was good. There was nothing there, just a dull disinterest in having a conversation at all. “What possible reason could I have to be here for you?”

  “If I knew the answer, I wouldn’t ask the question.”

  “If I had your answer, don’t you think I’d tell you?” She took a step closer to the table. “If I was really, truly, here for you … why I wouldn’t I just say so?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Why would you go through the trouble of saving my life before?”

  She sighed. “Well, I am a doctor. It is part of the oath.”

  “Where were you in the month of January?”

  She looked at me like a mother looks at a disobedient child. “I’m not accounting for my whereabouts to you, prisoner. You’re not a detective, this isn’t an investigation. You’re a patient under my care—for another few minutes, at least, until the guards get here to remove you.”

  “What do you want from me?” I asked. “Why would you come here? Why was your first day the day I started?”

  “Why did you choose to give yourself up the day I started?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t I take a job with as much prestige as this one—”

  “It’s a black site,” I said. “There’s no prestige at this job. No one knows you’re doing it. Try again.”

  “You don’t think there’s a circulating list of doctors in classified government positions?” Her eyes showed the slightest hint of levity. “You know better. You worked at the higher levels of the FBI.”

  “If you’re a career climber in the federal government, I’ll eat my own hand.”

  “I wouldn’t do it just now,” she said. “You are suppressed, so it won’t grow back.”

  “Until the next time I get my ass whipped and land in here, at which point you’ll take me off the suppressant and—boom, instant hand. Or at least, overnight—”

  “I’d be a little careful about that,” she said. “If you take a serious injury while suppressed and it doesn’t fix itself immediately … it may not fix itself at all once the suppressant wears off. Damage done while your powers are not in effect works differently. You may very well have some scars from your recent fights.”

  That was an interesting tidbit. “Where was your last job?” I asked. “How do you know so much about meta physiology?”

  “Still not an interrogation,” the doctor said, looking away from me.

  I rattled against the gurney. “Why are you being so damned obtuse? You’re here for a reason—”

  “Maybe I’m just here to look after the well-being of the inmates,” she said, looking at the heartbeat monitor and pulse ox readout.

  “Bullroar,” I said. “You’re here for me. You’re here to look after me.” My mind was racing. “Who do you work for?”

  “The Bureau of Prisons, Justice Department.”

  “Is it Vlad?” I kept my eyes on her. She flinched, nearly imperceptibly. “It is, isn’t it? He sent you? Why?”

  “I don’t know who you’re talking about—”

  “This is the mystery to me, see,” I said, “cuz it feels like he’s been sending all sorts of hell my way the last few years. But now he sends someone to watch over me? To minister to my health? How many times have you saved my life now?”

  “I’m quickly losing count.”

  “Why keep trying to kill me, then send someone to save me?” I asked. “Because—come on. You could inject my blood with something fatal—hell, you’re a meta. You could snuff me while I’m out and powerless. But you keep … not. Which means … for some reason, Vlad wants me alive.” I shook my head. “Suddenly, all the warnings, all the future nonsense … it’s starting to make sense. I end up Revelen because Vlad wants me there.”

  “You’re doing a stretch of life in prison,” she said, turning on me, a spark of anger in those blue eyes. “If you think you’re getting out—”

  “I am getting out, doc,” I said, smiling. “And you’re going to help me. I’m just wondering about the when and the how.”

  She actually froze, her mouth slightly open, eyes narrowed at me, head cocked in question. Her lips moved, almost imperceptibly, and though I didn’t have meta hearing, I could read lips on a basic level. “How did you know?” She paused, looking down, thinking. “Of course. Your boyfriend. The Cassandra.” Still whispering.

  “The government definitely doesn’t know that,” I said, blood going cold. “And just FYI—we broke up.”

  She blinked and looked away. It was the most telling tell of them all, like she was resetting herself back to Doctor Helen Slaughter, washing away the brief lapse of surprise—the first real surprise she’d evinced since I’d met her. “That all sounds very … fortunate for you. But it’s all fantasy, I’m afraid. The delusions of a mind railing against the realization of being trapped inside this place for the rest of her natural life.”

  “My natural life is a pretty long thing,” I said. “I think the will to hold me will run out of steam before I do.”

  “I guess we’ll see,” the doctor said, and pushed a button on the cell phone hanging off her belt. “Guards. Prisoner 4413 is ready for collection from the infirmary.”

  The doors opened, and two guards came in, clattering their boots on the floor as they made their way over to me. They unstrapped me from the table without even asking if I was suppressed—dumb on their part—and stood me up.

  “See you soon, doc,” I said.

  “You planning to get your ass kicked again already?” one of the guards asked, sounding vaguely excited about the possibility.

  “Well, it’s happened twice in two days, so … probably,” I said as they started to lead me off. I looked back over my shoulder at the doctor. She was watching me go, her expression frozen, eyes blurred in thought, staring at me in … what the hell was that? Surprise? Awe?

  … Concern?

  27.

  “I’ll take her from here, guys,” Owens said, one door away from the general population. The infirmary guards nodded, shrugged, and let her have me. Owens rested a hand on my arm and started to lead me, though she didn’t exactly tug very hard, letting me set the pace. “How you feelin’, Nealon?”

  “Nice rhyme, Owens,” I said. “And I feel fine. Though that doctor of yours …”

  “Yeah, she’s a little quiet, isn’t she?” Owens asked as she walked me down the hall, hand resting lightly on my arm. “Better than the last doc, I hear.”

  “You didn’t know him?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m new here,” Owens said. “I got hired in from Brushy Mountain down in Tennessee after you got apprehended.” She grinned, and I noticed for the first time her front teeth were big. “See, they staffed up in anticipation of you being a huge pain in the ass.”

  “Smart move,” I said.

  “Prophetic, even,” she said as we approached the last door into the general population area.

  “You don’t sound like a Tennesseean,” I said as the door alarm honked when Owens triggered it.

  “Didn’t say I was from there,” Owens said. “It’s just the last place I worked.”

  “Mmhm. How are the betting odds in the guard pool these days?”

  Owens broke into that grin again, those two front teeth showing big. “You’re scaring people now. Everyone figured you were toast without your powers. It’s very disappointing for everyone but me.”

  “Well, I strive to disappoint those who hate me and delight those who don’t,” I said. “Unfortunately, the list of those who hate me is doing nothing but growing, so pissing them off is getting to be a full time job.”

  “Hell of a purpose you’re carving out for your life there, Nealon.”

  “Would you rate it higher or lower than babysitting a bunch of convicted criminals with superpowers who act like they’re in Lord of the Flies?” I asked.

  “I’m helping maintain the thin line between order and chaos,” she said lightly, and I knew she didn’t buy into that one iota. Which did beg the question—

  What was Owens’s motivation? It didn’t seem like this was just a job to her …

  “This is where I leave you,” Owens said, turning me loose and unlocking the cuffs on my wrists and around my ankles. “I should probably tell you to play nice with others but I don’t really feel like casting my pearls of wisdom before you.”

  “You calling me a swine?” I asked. “Because I’m guessing when I head over there,” I chucked my thumb toward the prison populace, all gathered in the middle of the room for their social circle jerk time, “I’m going to get called worse. Again.”

  “I’m not calling you anything,” she said. “Stay out of trouble—or else cause lots of it and win. The middle ground? Is death. But you probably already know that.” She hung the chains and cuffs over her shoulder. “Rock on, Nealon.” She held up her hand in a fist-like salute, then turned and walked away.

  “Uh, yeah, I’ll do that,” I said, and shook my head as I headed toward the crowd gathered in the center of the room.

  There were guards lurking all around the perimeter, hanging near the support pillars, a few upstairs looking down from the second floor. I noticed that in the far corner of the room was a staircase leading up. It had been there back when I ran the prison, too, but I took note of it now because I was running out of effective ways to kill by surprise. A good fall might help me if I could arrange one for Gert. Every little idea helped.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26