“Well, seeing as I’m his daughter and you were just a . . . client, I think I have a right to make this decision.”
“Oh, Zel.” She presses her eyes shut for a few seconds. “You don’t understand the odds.”
“I got the top score in biostatistics last semester. Try me.”
“If I take your experimental product to them, there is a ten percent chance they’ll exchange it for Dyl. If you go, there is a one hundred percent chance they’ll take you, and your product, and keep Dyl too.”
“You don’t know that,” I counter.
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
Marka gives me a steady stare. “You have to have faith. I just know.”
“I’m not asking you to explain the existence of Hindu gods, Marka. So, no, I don’t have faith. Prove it.”
“You are so stubborn, like your dad.” She swallows and pinches her nose shut (which is, I guess, her idea of clearing her mind). “I didn’t want to tell you this. I don’t even know how to begin.” A few moments later, Marka jumps off her stool and slides open a drawer. She plucks an item out of it and brings it to me, carefully laying it in my hand.
My fingers close over the object. It’s light and small, irregularly shaped. I open my hand. A dark and horrifying revelation grows in my belly.
It’s a tiny baby doll, like the ones littered all over Ana’s room.
Her trinket.
“Zelia, are you done there yet?” Cy’s voice calls from the lab.
The tiny baby doll is still in my palm when I look up at Marka. She puts a finger to her lips to urge my silence. The baby discussion is not for Cy’s ears, apparently.
“I’ll be done soon,” I say. It’s hard to not sound disgusted, especially when it’s seeping from my pores.
“Cy dear, give us another few minutes,” Marka adds.
“Okay, I’ll be there in five.”
Marka rolls her eyes and touches her forehead in an oh crap gesture.
“This isn’t just about Ana’s miscarriage, is it?” I keep my voice as quiet as I can.
“No. And Cy doesn’t know. I never told him. I didn’t have the heart. It would kill him to know.”
“Know what?”
Marka takes the little baby from me and turns it over in her palm. “They harvested her ovaries when they saw she couldn’t carry babies.”
“Harvested?”
“Yes. I think they took them out in such a crude way—she has no scars on her belly, you know.”
“How else would they take them ou— Oh.” My imagination doesn’t have to be that vivid to realize what animals they were. I cover my mouth.
Marka hurries her words. “They’re trying to breed more kids, using any girls with traits for the task. They may be using non-trait girls as surrogates.” She drops her eyes to her lap. “I think . . . I know that Ana’s pregnancy was planned. It wasn’t some lovers’ accident. Micah used her, and when the pregnancy didn’t work, Aureus took what they wanted anyway.”
I actually hear the thud. It’s the sound of my heart hitting the center of the Earth, where nothing lives. Oh, god. Dyl. What has Micah done to her? What is he doing to her now?
“So you see, you can’t go. Because I’m too old to bear children and my trait is impossible to market, I’m useless to them. You’re a gold mine, Zelia.” She hands the doll back to me.
“But I can’t—I’m sure I can’t have kids,” I remind her.
“That’s a hypothesis, not fact. You vastly underestimate your worth, Zelia. What we know now is just the tip of the iceberg. They know that too.”
The door opens and Cy breezes in. My fist closes over the doll, and I give him my sweetest smile.
“Well, did you convince her?” he asks.
“I did. I think she understands.” Marka gives me a helping smile, and buried under the pull of her mouth, the express warning.
Don’t tell him.
“I understand.” My head bobs in agreement, as this much is true. But there are lies coming, percolating through my brain. I need a smoke screen, and fast. My hand goes to my chest and I take a few extra, dramatic breaths.
“You know, I just need some air. Would you mind, this one time?” I gesture to the window, and Marka is frazzled enough to comply. She orders the window open and I let the stale air of Neia embrace me. Marka’s nose wrinkles with discomfort.
“So, you’re okay with not going for the exchange?” Cy says as he grabs my finger and squeezes it. He’s not quite ready for full-on boyfriend/girlfriend handholding in front of Marka, apparently.
Even knowing the consequences, my resolve doesn’t change one bit. I paint contentment and happiness all over my face. “Of course. Marka will go. There’s no question. Maybe next week or so.”
Marka rubs her nose and mirrors my bright smile.
The lie is complete, as is the trust.
CHAPTER 24
TOMORROW IS THE LAST DAY. WHICH MEANS this is my last night with Cy.
Late in the evening, I use precious minutes to curl up in his arms until he falls asleep. I wish I could stay the night, but I can’t. I burn through the deepest hours of the night working away at my bench, and trying desperately to ignore the dreams that haunt my waking hours.
At dawn, the early light through the lab windows chases me back to his room. I creep under his sweet, heavy limbs and feel, in those few moments, that I’m not living a lie. It’s bliss under a film of bitterness. As soon as he wakes up, the not-me switches on again at full power.
“Did you sleep okay?” he croaks in his morning voice.
“I think so.”
He nuzzles into my neck and I lose my sense of direction for a little while, but then push him off.
“I’m hungry. Breakfast?”
Cy nods, his smile disintegrating. It crushes me to see him react so. I pull him out of bed, wrapping his arms around me. As we stumble forward, my hip bumps into the table where the multiple holoboards are set up. One winks awake, showing a list of neural transfer articles.
I let go of Cy’s hands to touch the screen, scanning the list. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” He leans over with a long arm and shuts the screens off. I spin around and stare at him with exaggerated, buggy eyes. A puff of mirth escapes his mouth as he cracks a tiny smile. “You’re going to make me tell you, right?”
“Yep. I’m aggravating like that.”
To my surprise, Cy drops to the floor. After three breaths (his, not mine), he lowers his arms to rest on his knees. “I’ve been trying to . . . fix Ana.”
“With neural transfers?” I turn the screen back on with a touch and scan the articles. They’re all negative studies. No good outcomes.
“Yes. Based on my healing traits, I’ve sent data on synthetic regeneration bioagents to the NIH and different labs around the country.” At my look of alarm, he adds, “It’s anonymous. They think I’m some half-crazy garage-scientist with too much time on my hands.”
“Which you are,” I tease, and Cy swipes at my leg in retaliation. “I’m sorry. Go on.”
“Well, based on the studies that have come out, they’ve taken plenty of my data and run with it. Reversing brain damage would be a huge breakthrough, right? Except none of my treatments are working on people. They work great in the lab, but not in people.”
I crouch down behind him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He rests his chin there, huffing a sigh. The lab is calling to me, but it has to wait for one more moment.
“Ana is lucky to have you,” I whisper. “But it isn’t your responsibility to undo what’s already happened.”
“Yes, it is. You of all people should understand that.”
This time I sigh deeply. I want to tell him the truth, but I can’t. “I have to go back to the lab,” I say. Cy doesn’t stop me. I leave him staring at the screen of failures, in a room full of darkness, ink, and needles. I shouldn’t leave him there alone, but I must.