The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2) Page 14

  Before anyone saw her, Mable slipped into the room. “Good morning, Ramona.”

  “Hello, sweet child. I don’t usually have visitors so early. What’s on your mind?” Her words were soft, betraying her struggle to speak any louder. Rather than her usual braid, Ramona’s hair fell limp across her shoulders like a cascade of silver silk.

  Mable shrugged out of habit and answered, “Arrenstein is sending us to the moon.”

  “Us?”

  “Me and Theo.” Mable sank to the furry green carpet at Ramona’s feet and looked up at her.

  Ramona nodded as if she’d known all along. “And how do you feel about that?”

  That was a good question. Mable felt a lot of things all mixed up at once. The only answer she could offer was, “I don’t know.”

  “Well, start at the beginning, then.”

  “At the beginning of what?” Mable furrowed her brow. Maybe Ramona couldn’t help her after all.

  “Who are you going to tell first?”

  “I figured Dasia.” Mable ran her fingers through the long strands of carpet.

  “Why?”

  “She’ll take it hardest.”

  “Because you two have become close?”

  “And because she’s lost someone before.”

  Ramona let her lips curl into a small smile. “So losing someone in the past didn’t keep her from falling in love with you.”

  Mable reeled at the words. At the word. That strange and awful love.

  “You didn’t know?” Ramona asked when Mable could only blink.

  “I—I don’t think she loves me. I think she likes the distraction.”

  “Is that the whole truth of it?” Ramona’s blank eyes gazed at Mable as if she could see her.

  Mable swallowed. “I don’t know. Ask her.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  Anger pushed the words out in rapid succession. “I think it doesn’t matter what you call it. I think it works and we like it and we don’t want it to end just because Arrenstein wants to send me on a long-term assignment.”

  Ramona smiled wider. “What else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something else. Or someone else.”

  “No, just Dasia.” It was an outright lie, and they both knew it.

  “Does that mean I have to guess? Let me see, it wouldn’t be Knox or Osip. And certainly not Jane—”

  Mable cursed her luck. “Fine. It’s Theo.”

  “Then that’s no trouble at all.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because he’s going with you.”

  “So what?” Mable didn’t follow.

  Ramona smoothed over the nightgown where it fell across her lap. “You’re not sure about him.”

  “I have good reason.”

  “Yes, child. You do. But that doesn’t mean that you’re right.”

  Mable chewed on her lip and continued rubbing her hands through the carpet. Somehow, it soothed her, though it had to be hundreds of years old. “So he’s going with me, and Dasia’s staying behind. And you think that’s good?”

  “Of course.” She spoke about Mable’s dual interests like they were routine, an obvious solution to an everyday problem. “What are you afraid of?”

  Memories flooded in so fast she couldn’t hold them back. She could see his face, the beautiful Nolan Armstrong, seventeen and moments from Selection. His eyes were so grey they bordered on lavender. His skin was as light and creamy as porcelain. He was a brilliant nuclear researcher.

  She had loved him through and through. And he had loved her.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  “Are you afraid Theo will hurt you again?” Ramona pressed.

  Mable snapped back to present. “No. I think he wants to keep me safe. I think it scared him pretty bad last time.”

  “Ah, but that’s not the only kind of pain, is it?”

  “No. There are worse kinds.”

  “Would you take it back?”

  Mable blinked. “Take what back?”

  “The pain. Would you give up love if it would take away the pain? Would you change it if you could?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can’t.”

  “But would you?”

  She exhaled long and slow. “No. I wouldn’t change it.”

  Ramona smiled. “There are few that would.”

  Mable pulled her knees to her chest. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Ramona’s skeletal hand stroked Mable’s hair, her touch as light as air. “Yes, you do, child. You’re secure in your relationship with Dasia. You want to explore your relationship with Theo. Some alone time with him is just what you need to figure it out.”

  A relationship with Theo? It seemed a strange concept. With Dasia, it was easy, as effortless as breathing. She was lovely and new and wanted no claim on Mable’s life. Theo, though, would never be easy that way. He would always be difficult, he would always piss her off and say something inconsiderate without meaning to. How could she give up Dasia for the sake of him?

  “I don’t want to lose her,” Mable admitted. The words hung in the air. She hadn’t realized the depth of that fear until she spoke the words.

  “So don’t.”

  Mable couldn’t believe it. Did Ramona just condone a pair of relationships? How did an ancient Scholar even know of such things?

  “Oh, come on. I’m old. I’m not dead,” Ramona said with a laugh. “It won’t be easy. You may have to choose someday. But you’ll need to figure them out first. Give them a fighting chance.”

  “Shit! What time is it?” She hadn’t meant to stay so long. Dasia wouldn’t be angry, but Mable didn’t want her to worry, not today.

  Mable shot to her feet. “Thanks, Ramona. I’ll try to come by before we leave.”

  “Don’t bother, child. You have everything you need. Good luck.” Ramona clasped both her hands around Mable’s and squeezed them before releasing her.

  Mable darted out the door to go meet Dasia and wondered if she would ever see the strange old woman again.

  DASIA

  LRF-RQ-04

  SEPTEMBER 8, 2232

  Mable was late for training that morning, but when she finally arrived, she said, “This’ll be our last session for a while. I’m leaving.” Her hair was now crimson and curly, so they almost could have passed for sisters.

  Dasia didn’t realize the significance at first. Mable came and went all the time on various extractions and the like.

  “Okay, when’ll you be back?” Dasia asked as she wrapped her hands.

  “A year. Maybe more.”

  “A year?!” Dasia’s mouth hung so low it nearly touched the ground.

  “A long term recon on the moon. Me and Theo.” Mable shrugged like it was nothing.

  “Are you okay with that?” Dasia, for one, was entirely not okay with it.

  “It’s my job. It’s not really about whether or not I like it.” Mable threw her first punch, only to be deflected by Dasia’s block. Over the next hour, Dasia managed to hit Mable a grand total of one time. Mable hit her three times.

  The illusory sun was high in the sky when they finished, both sweat-drenched and breathing hard.

  “Come on. Go get washed up, and I’ll take you to cleaning,” Mable said between breaths, a sneaky smile on her face.

  Dasia’s heart already raced from exertion, but now she was excited, too. She would finally see what Mable had in mind. She would get a glimpse of how Mable kept her façade of strength.

  A half hour later, she and Mable walked arm in arm to the cleaning station. With no one scheduled for the day, the wing was empty but for the two of them.

  “Here, lay down,” Mable said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and making motions on the panel on the wall.

  “What are we going to do?” Dasia climbed onto the metal table. Its coolness seeped into her clothes.

  “You’ll see.” Mable’s voice concealed a laugh. “Ready?”

  “U
h, I guess.”

  The machine whirred above her and slid along her length four or five times before it grew quiet again. Dasia never felt a thing.

  Mable, however, squealed. She clapped her hands over her mouth and even jumped up and down a little. “Oh man, so hot.”

  “That’s it?” Dasia asked as she sat up on the table. She looked down at her legs, her hands, her body, but it all looked the same. It was a trick. Her heart sank at the betrayal.

  “Here, look.” Mable pulled at her hand to get her off the table and walked her to the floor-length mirror by the door. Sure enough, a new version of Dasia appeared. This one had light blonde hair with streaks of red, though brighter than before. Rather than curly, it was perfectly straight, so long it went eight inches past her shoulders.

  Dasia didn’t know what to think. She’d never seen herself that way before. She ran her fingers through her hair to prove it was real.

  “That’s the secret? Change your hair?” She couldn’t believe it.

  “Well, yeah.” Mable shrugged and pulled at Dasia’s waist. “If you change how you look, you change how you feel. For me, it takes more, but this is plenty for you. It’s your first time.”

  “How many times have you done this?” Dasia’s eyes were glued to the mirror.

  “I don’t know. Six or seven?”

  Dasia thought back to the first time she’d ever seen Mable. She’d had piercings in her cheeks, tattoos crawling up her neck, dark lines around her eyes, and perfectly black hair. At one point, the side of her head had been shaved. Now, she had red curls. In the few short weeks of their friendship, Mable continued to evolve.

  It made a certain kind of sense.

  But other than being surprised, Dasia didn’t feel any different.

  “Thanks, it looks great,” she said, not sure if she meant it or not. She knew Mable meant well, so she would be gracious at least.

  “I need to get back up to the lab. Catch up with you later?” Mable said with her lips set, as she must have realized Dasia didn’t love it as much as she did.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  After Mable left, Dasia couldn’t help but feel bad. Clearly she’d expected some sort of reaction out of Dasia. Maybe Dasia didn’t see the whole picture. Maybe she hadn’t fully accepted it yet.

  She headed up to Osip’s room and knocked on the door.

  When he opened it, he stood there flabbergasted. His eyes floated up and down her like he didn’t recognize her.

  “What do you think?” She found her heart beating fast while she waited for his answer.

  Osip didn’t respond right away. He looked her over several times before finally saying, “I mean, you look beautiful, but why change it?”

  “Mable thought it would help me,” she explained.

  “Help you do what? Get a modeling contract?”

  Dasia snorted out a laugh before she could help herself. She wasn’t the sort of girl to ever be into anything like that. She was, until recently, quite literally a farmer.

  “Don’t get me wrong, you look fantastic. I just, I like the red.” Osip’s own blond hair fell into his face.

  “There’s still a little,” she pointed out, selecting a few of the red pieces and holding them up.

  “I guess we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one. You want to go over some profiles today?” he asked, like she had a choice.

  “Yeah. Hey, did you know Mable and Theo are leaving? For a year?”

  Osip shook his head. “No, when did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. She just told me.”

  “Sounds like we need to have a party then,” Osip said with a smile—a wide, mischievous grin—as he rubbed his palms together. If it had been anyone else, Dasia would have been nervous.

  But for Osip, she had full confidence. And if he wanted to have a party, then she was all for it.

  THEO

  CPI-700, NEW YORK

  SEPTEMBER 9, 2232

  GALLEY AT 2100

  Theo read the ecomm and wondered what it could be about. Aside from Mable, Osip was the only other friend Theo had, though they barely saw each other. Between Theo’s jaunts to extraction locations and his long hours in the lab with Mable, there wasn’t a lot of time for anyone else.

  “Did you just get an ecomm from Osip?” Mable asked from across the light table. Her red curls were pulled up at the back of her head and streamed out in a hundred directions. With the light from the table illuminating her features, Mable was a stunning beauty.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d had trouble concentrating.

  “Uh, yeah. What’s that about?”

  Mable set down the bug jar in her hand and replied, “No idea. What’s it, 2035 now? I guess we can finish up and head down.” It was more than she’d said to him all day.

  Theo tried to pretend she was upset at leaving CPI, at having a long term assignment so far from her friends, on another planet in fact, but he knew better. She was pissed at him, angry at his comments that she couldn’t do it.

  He’d only tried to protect her.

  He should have known better.

  Above the table, a chaotic flow chart hovered. In each circle, the name of a confirmed bug host and their field of research was featured. Each branch constituted some sort of professional relationship. As they’d gone back, each bug host had had some sort of contact with a previous host. They’d worked on the same project, the same lab, been mentors and mentees. If at first a relationship didn’t seem obvious, they would do a little searching, and sure enough, the two would have a connection.

  A pattern was starting to form. They didn’t know what it was yet, but it was there.

  In addition to the hosts, Mable went through the chart and documented the type of bug extracted, and, if possible, which jar on the table held that particular bug. It was a considerable amount of work that had taken them several days and nights with intermittent sleep over the course of the last week, but it was coming together. They would have new information to present to Arrenstein before they left.

  The stool screeched as she slid it across the floor. A moment later she was on her feet and heading for the door.

  “Hey, want me to walk you down?” Theo offered, jogging a little to catch up.

  “I’m fine. I’m sure I can handle it.”

  Yep. She was definitely pissed.

  Theo had no idea she was raised as a Scholar, or that Arrenstein was sponsored. He had been wrong on nearly every count.

  And, he hadn’t known she was involved with Dasia when he kissed her. No wonder she didn’t seem interested in getting to know him. She wasn’t interested in getting to know guys in general.

  Theo sighed and bowed his head as he stepped in the elevator beside her. She pretended he wasn’t there. Theo, too, wanted to be somewhere else—to crawl into a hole and die, perhaps.

  When they arrived at the galley, it was transformed. Strings of lights and antique paper lanterns hung across the ceiling, glowing bright in the absence of the fluorescent lights. Energetic music played from somewhere in the kitchen, a band he didn’t recognize.

  Knox, Osip, Dasia, and Georgie all stood waiting, cheering when they entered. Dasia’s hair was long, blonde, and straight. She almost looked like a different person.

  “What’s this all about?” Mable asked, eyes wide with surprise.

  “It’s your going away party!” Osip announced.

  Theo didn’t know how any of them knew. He hadn’t even had a chance to speak to anyone but Mable since the meeting—well, work in silence alongside her, anyway.

  When he saw Mable and Dasia hugging, he knew how it had happened.

  Osip reached behind him on the table and produced a bottle of clear liquid. “Anyone up for a drink?”

  “I definitely am, but I’m not drinking that. Do we have anything less lava-flavored?” Mable held the back of her hand over her mouth as if she could smell the contents of the bottle.

  “Everything else is Dr. A’s persona
l stash,” Osip replied.

  “Oh, that brandy? I’ll have that.” Mable darted into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with a bottle of amber liquid, one Theo recognized from Dr. Arrenstein’s office. He’d only had a taste, the day he was reassigned to Mable’s team, but he hadn’t forgotten it.

  Still, he didn’t want to drink the director’s personal liquor.

  Mable filled her glass with the brandy while the others sipped at the vodka. Sure enough, it tasted horrible, like spoiled fire.

  “Take your time, D.” Osip winked as he poured her a glass.

  “Oh, god. Don’t remind me.” She shot it back in a single motion like she’d done it a thousand times.

  Sitting around a table piled high with food, they ate like kings and drank the horrible liquor. Only Mable dared to drink the brandy, but Theo was quickly coming around to the idea. He didn’t know how much more of the vodka he could take.

  “What’s this music you’re playing, Knox?” Dasia asked as she munched on the fruit from her plate.

  “Got me, celery stick. The weasel made the pasta.”

  “I didn’t know you were a weasel,” Mable said to Osip, though Theo had no idea what that meant or how she would know it was him.

  “Not a very good one.” He laughed.

  “What’s a weasel?” Georgie asked, clearly as lost as Theo.

  “It was an animal,” Osip said, as if that explained it.

  “Are there any more?” Mable wondered aloud.

  “You know, I don’t know. Let’s look it up.” Osip produced his tablet and searched. When he found it, he displayed the small mammal over the table. “Nope, extinct in 2132. That’s a shame. Looks kind of fun actually.”

  “Goes up and down,” Knox attempted to help, though it was lost in his strange speech patterns.

  “Is that what you did Mable? Back at the Root,” Dasia asked.

  Mable nodded and emptied her glass. “Not a very good one,” she said with a laugh, the one Theo knew was the real one.

  The song changed, yet another one Theo had never heard, but Mable and Osip clearly had. Both perked up and started laughing before Osip said, “Come on, D. I’ll show you how to dance. This one’s fun.”