"It was self-defense," Sam said. "Nicole attacked her."
"Get them out."
Nast didn't raise his voice, but the guard jumped as if he'd shouted. He took both Hayley and Sam by the arm and propelled them to the door.
"Moreno? Take the boy. Now."
Moreno wasn't so quick to obey. He sauntered forward, waving at Rafe. "Come on, kid. Your girlfriend needs to go with the doc for a checkup."
I caught Rafe's eye and mouthed, "Go on."
A second guard appeared as Moreno and Rafe left. Nast pointed to me.
"Take her to the lab for Dr. Wiley. And be careful." He met my gaze. "Her wild streak is showing."
TWENTY-TWO
DR. WILEY WAS THE woman who'd been standing there, silently observing. She followed as the guard led me away. We headed upstairs and into another hall. As Rafe said, the house was huge. This seemed like a wing, with doors lining the corridor. A few were open and I could see what looked like work areas. An office. A computer lab. A staff lounge.
Dr. Wiley opened the next door. Inside was a medical office, complete with paper-covered examining table and gown.
I hesitated.
"It's a physical, Maya," Dr. Wiley said without looking back. "On the table, please. Sitting."
The guard backed out of the room. As he was closing the door, a hand grabbed it. Moreno walked in. When he did, I felt a weird flutter of relief at seeing a familiar face. Which was stupid, really, because Moreno was no friend of ours. But at least he was a threat I knew. One I understood.
"Hey, Doc," he said.
"I'm busy."
"Yeah, I see that. Only . . . wasn't Inglis supposed to do the examination on Maya? Pretty sure she was. Pretty sure Cal insisted on it."
"Mr. Antone and Dr. Inglis are unavailable. Mr. Nast wants the examination done immediately. He's concerned about Maya's behavior."
Moreno gave a derisive snort. "Only because he wasn't the one chasing her though the forest for three days. Otherwise he'd know that misbehavior is pretty much par for the course with Miss Maya." He turned to me. "Isn't it?"
I gave him a look.
He laughed. "The killer glare. You inherited that from your daddy." He lifted a hand. "Yeah, yeah. Rick Delaney is your daddy. Spare me the protest." Back to Dr. Wiley. "If Mr. Nast thinks Maya's bad now, he should just be glad her partner in crime isn't here. First time I met those two? Maya tried to question me while her benandanti buddy knocked me around. It was kinda cute, actually."
"Beating and interrogation?" Dr. Wiley said. "We have a very different definition of cute, Mr. Moreno."
"Maybe. But the point is, she isn't acting out of character. Which means this examination isn't necessary. I'm sure you have other things to do. You go do them. I'll take Miss Maya back to the others, and Dr. Inglis can examine her later."
"My orders are to conduct a physical. I take my orders from Mr. Nast." She looked his way. "As do you."
Moreno blustered some more, but when Dr. Wiley picked up the phone to call security, he shut up and took a seat. The doctor settled for compressing her lips in a thin line of disapproval as she turned her attention to me.
I've been having physicals all my life. I always figured they were just the normal kind everyone talks about. Now I suspect mine were a little different. They were certainly thorough. At home, we all dreaded the twice-annual two-hour appointment.
This one started exactly as I remembered. Height, weight, blood pressure, eyes, ears, throat, chest. She drew blood. Ten vials. Nothing more than I was used to, but I could see Moreno's eyes widen a little as she passed number five and kept going.
When she was done with the blood, she sent it out immediately. I got juice and cookies while she waited for the lab tech. It was the same kinds of juice and cookies I'd been getting since I was five, which was creepy. The Nasts hadn't just bought us, they'd bought everything about us, replicating each detail to ease the transition.
I shivered.
"Cold?" Dr. Wiley asked.
I shook my head.
She frowned. "Have you been shivering a lot recently?"
"No."
"Anything more serious? Shaking? Convulsions?"
"The girl shivered, Doc."
"Mr. Moreno, I'm going to ask you to leave now."
"Ah, hell." Moreno leaned back in his seat. "Fine. I'll be quiet."
"I'm afraid that won't be sufficient. I need to conduct a thorough examination, which requires . . ." She picked up the robe and waggled it at him.
Still he hesitated.
"Mr. Moreno."
"Yeah, yeah." He stood and walked over to me. "Your dad will be here soon, kiddo."
Dr. Wiley sniffed and waved him out. I watched him go.
Okay, what was that about? I'd sensed the tension between Antone and Nast earlier, but I hadn't given it much thought. Antone was more accustomed to giving orders than taking them. But Moreno's hovering? That was weird, as was his insistence on waiting for Antone and Dr. Inglis.
Something was going on here. Serious tension, and not just between Antone and Nast. I could see Dr. Inglis being uncomfortable having someone else work on me. I was "hers," and there was bound to be conflict between the Nast camp and the former St. Cloud employees. But Antone and Moreno had been with the Nasts since this had begun.
The rest of the physical was exactly what I'd had since I turned twelve, right down to the order of the steps. Physical exam. Pap smear. Breast examination. Cheek swab. Vitamin injection. And, finally, the sour apple lollipop.
I stared at the green sucker. "Seriously?"
"We were told you liked green apple." She opened the drawer and pulled out a bag. "We have cherry, raspberry. Even . . ." She picked up a brown one. "Root beer? Oh, yes, that'd be for Daniel."
I stared at that brown sucker. My stomach twisted. She set it on the counter where I could see it.
"Do you know what happens when a car strikes the human body, Maya? Yes, Daniel got up and walked away. I'm sure he just felt battered and bruised. But the force of that impact must have done damage. Internal damage. He could go to sleep feeling fine and then . . . never wake up."
I clenched my fists to keep from shaking as panic whipped through me.
They're exaggerating. You know they are. Corey will take care of him. Trust Corey and trust Daniel. Worry won't help you get out of here. You need to focus on escape.
"I don't know where he is," I said.
"I think you do."
"I don't. We got separated--"
"Then he'll find a place you all stayed before that and go there to wait. You need to tell us--"
"There's nothing to tell." I hopped off the exam table, scooped up my clothes, and retreated behind the curtain to dress.
TWENTY-THREE
I LEFT THE EXAMINATION room to discover we were all on lockdown pending an investigation of my allegations against Nicole. That didn't explain why all the others would be confined. I suspect Nast was just happy for the excuse.
At least they let me keep Kenjii. Antone's orders, apparently. They'd brought in her dishes and bedding. I supposed he thought I'd be grateful. I wasn't. Or, at least, I didn't want to be.
I'd only been in my room for a few minutes when Antone himself arrived with lunch. I considered rejecting it, on principle, but if I was stuck here I needed allies, and at this point Antone seemed my most promising option.
"I want to talk to you about your brother," he said as he pulled a chair over to where I sat cross-legged on the bed.
"I don't know where Ash--"
"I just want to talk about him." He popped open an energy drink and took a few slugs.
"You know that stuff is all marketing," I said. "You're better off having a Coke and some vitamins. Cheaper, too."
He smiled. "I'll remember that."
I squirmed, as if giving him advice was an olive branch I hadn't meant to extend.
"I'm not the enemy, Maya."
"Yeah, you keep saying that. Funny, because
I could swear it was you I saw during the forest fire, pointing a gun at me."
"A tranquilizer gun. Because you were about to run back into a burning forest."
I took a bite of my sandwich.
"About Ashton," he said.
"Ash. He hates Ashton."
"Ash." He pondered. "All right, then. Ash."
Again he smiled and I realized he took this as another sign I was opening up. Helping him get to know us better.
"How much has Ash told you about his life, Maya?"
I shrugged.
"In other words, he's told you some, but you aren't going to share it with me in case you'd be telling me things I don't know. I can assure you that's very unlikely, and not why I was asking. I just don't want to tell you anything you already know."
Still I said nothing. He waited a moment, then nodded. "All right. From the top then. Your mother kept him when she gave you up. It seems she thought she'd call less attention to herself with him."
I bristled. "Why? Did I cry too much? Was I causing trouble already? I was only a few months old."
"That's not it, Maya. I'm sure you wonder what you did to make her choose him. The answer, as far as I can tell, is nothing. But your mother is only half Navajo and she doesn't look it. She can pass for Caucasian easily. You can't. Your brother?" He shrugged. "He can't pass for white, but he could clearly be her son. With you . . . ? People would have noticed. They can pretend they don't, but they do. If the St. Clouds went looking for a white woman with a Native American baby, they'd have had a lot easier time finding you. She knew that. So when she made her choice . . ."
"She kept Ash." I turned the pop can around in my hands. "But that only made it easier for you to find me, didn't it? An abandoned Native baby."
He nodded.
"So she basically tossed me to you and the St. Clouds so she could escape."
Antone rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't want to malign your mother. What she did to you was wrong. But I have to admit it was for the best. At least compared to what she did to Ash."
"She dumped him."
He sucked in breath and seemed to be struggling to put a better slant on it. Finally, he said, "Yes, she dumped him," and in his voice I heard all the bitterness I'd seen on Ash's face.
It took him a moment to continue. "I would like to think she did it for him. That she believed the St. Clouds were closing in and this was his best chance. The couple she gave him to were decent people. Not as good as your adoptive parents, but they did try. Then, when Ash was ten, his foster father was involved in a serious accident. He lost his job. They had three other children. They couldn't contact your mother, so . . . Ash entered the system."
"The foster care system."
Antone nodded. "In some cases it works well. There are wonderful, loving parents who sign up. And then there are . . . the rest. Those who do it for money. It's never easy for children of any minority. But in the area where Ash was living there wasn't a strong Native community. No Native community, really. That was hard on him. Really hard. He acted out. By thirteen--after a dozen placements--he ended up in a group home. He stayed two weeks. Then he was gone. He's been on the streets ever since."
I shook my head. "But he's been in contact with--" I snapped my mouth shut hard.
"In contact with other parents who left? Yes, I know. That's how I've gotten my information. Let's just say one of those parents isn't nearly as trustworthy as Ash believes." He paused. "No, I shouldn't say that. I suspect Ash knows they aren't trustworthy. Otherwise, I'd have found him by now. He doesn't give away anything, even to them. But when Ash ran, he went searching online for answers and, at that time, he hadn't yet learned to be quite so careful. Someone found him. A man who used to work for the Edison Group."
Cyril Mitchell. I didn't say that, of course. I just waited for him to go on.
"From all accounts, Mr. Mitchell was a decent man. If I could have gotten in touch with him, this would have gone much better, but my contact was playing both sides and wasn't about to do anything to jeopardize that. Mitchell tracked down Ash and tried to give him a place to stay, but Ash had had enough of that with his foster parents. Eventually Mitchell realized he had a choice--help Ash from a distance or lose him completely. He went with the former. He seems to have tried to give him money, but the only thing Ash would accept was information."
"On the experiment."
Antone nodded. "So your brother has been on the streets for three years. You can try to understand that, but I don't think you can, Maya. I can't, either. Like you, I was raised by a wonderful family. Not wealthy, but certainly comfortable. If I needed clothing, I got it. If I asked for name brands, my parents would talk to me about peer pressure, but if I wanted it badly enough, I got it. Outgrow my bicycle? Get a new one. Eighteenth birthday? Get a car. Not new, but still a car. College? Sure. Ivy League? If I could get in, which I did. I wasn't spoiled, but I was loved and, yes, indulged. Does that all sound familiar?"
I said nothing.
"Your brother has never had that. Never. Not with your mother. Not with the family she gave him to. Certainly not with his foster parents. But compared to what he has now? He was as pampered as a prince." Antone leaned forward. "He has nothing, Maya. Nothing."
"He has me." I didn't mean to say it. I could hear Ash's voice in my ear, scoffing, Yeah, thanks. That and five bucks will buy me lunch. But as I said it, I meant it. When I got out of here, I'd find him. I'd be whatever he needed me to be, and it had nothing to do with hearing the story of his life.
When I said that, Antone pulled back. I thought he was offended--I'd just met my brother and I was presuming so much. But his eyes glimmered.
"I'm glad to hear that, Maya. I don't think I can tell you how much it means to me, seeing the two of you together, looking out for each other." A deep breath. "But he has me, too. I can give him everything he needs. Everything you and I had growing up." He met my gaze. "Don't you think that's what he'd want?"
"If he does, then he knows where to find it. He knows you're here."
"He won't come to me."
"Then you'll need to find him and ask him what he wants. Because I won't help you."
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 ha
ve 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."