Where did Nicholas fit in? she wondered. He certainly didn’t seem imprinted, as they called it. Or maybe he was. Maybe he was working for someone on the island, Moira or another doctor, and in running away from him Sophie had spoiled whatever plan he’d been ordered to carry out with her.
Dr. Hashimoto led her through the atrium, and they approached another doctor as they entered the opposite hall. He was a small, balding man, carrying an armful of paperwork, and he was trailed by a boy Sophie’s age—not Nicholas. The boy had a vacant look in his eye and a vapid smile on his lips.
Dr. Hashimoto stopped and nodded to the man.
He glanced at Sophie. “Andreyev’s girl?”
“Yes. I’m taking her into therapy now.”
The man nodded, looking Sophie up and down. “Caleb, hold this.” He dumped the paperwork into the hands of the boy, who took it with a softly murmured, “Yes, sir.”
The doctor took Sophie’s face in his hands and squinted at her, his gaze inspecting her face as if looking for a flaw.
“There’s something off about this one,” he said to Dr. Hashimoto.
“She only just woke up. And she’s one of the first batch, so she’s been sleeping for seventeen years.”
“Hm. It’s not that. Her eyes—look at them. They see more than they should. If I were Moira, I’d take a closer look at this one. Wouldn’t want our prize Vitro to go bad, would we, not while Andreyev’s around to see it.”
“We haven’t had a Vitro ‘go bad’ since Jay,” said Dr. Hashimoto, batting his hands away. “We fixed that little problem, remember?”
“We?” He snorted. “You weren’t even around. You’re practically still an intern, Hana, so don’t presume too much.”
Dr. Hashimoto’s eyes flashed. “That may be so, but Lux is my responsibility, not yours. Good day, Dr. Michalski.”
“I’m just saying,” he said as Dr. Hashimoto took Sophie’s hand and stormed on down the hall. “We don’t want another Nicholas running around this place! Should have put that one down years ago. But what do I know? No one ever listens to me around here.”
Dr. Hashimoto muttered under breath, and then Sophie heard a crash behind her. For a moment she forgot herself, and she whirled around. The boy, Caleb, had dropped the papers all over the floor.
“Stupid!” Dr. Michalski hissed. “Pick them up!”
“Sorry, sir,” the boy said. He dropped to his knees and grabbed up the papers.
“Faster, Caleb!”
Caleb’s hands moved in a blur, snatching papers and stuffing them into a messy pile in his arm. “Sorry,” he said again. When he had them all up, he stood and gave the doctor a bland smile, his expression glazed.
Sophie was struck with horror. She couldn’t look away. But then she felt Dr. Hashimoto tugging on her arm, and she forced herself to turn around. The young doctor was frowning at her.
“Perhaps Michalski was right,” she said thoughtfully, regarding Sophie through slitted eyes. “There is something . . . off about you.”
Sophie said nothing, but her heart pounded on her ribs so violently that she was certain Dr. Hashimoto would hear it. It was too soon to lose her cover; she still had too many questions, and it seemed Lux had access to the answers Sophie had never been able to find. Thankfully, the doctor shrugged and shook her head.
“I’ll mention it to Moira later. Come on.”
She took Sophie into a large room that looked like a cross between a gym and a lounge. Several pieces of exercise equipment cluttered one end of the room, while the other was taken up with couches and a widescreen television. Andreyev was sitting on one of the couches, nursing a cup of coffee while attended by a pair of doctors and yet another teen, this one a slightly chubby boy with golden curls and glassy blue eyes.
Dr. Hashimoto led Sophie to a pair of horizontal bars and instructed her to place her hands on either one, then to walk down the middle.
“You’re doing surprisingly well for a newborn,” she said. “But still. Got to work on those legs. Hm . . . that’s strange. Your muscle development is remarkable.” Sophie froze, sure her cover would be blown by something as stupid as her calf muscles, but then the young doctor shrugged. “Perhaps the somatropin doses they gave you were too high. You are pretty small for your age.”
Holding back a sigh of relief, Sophie made a show of tripping and finding her feet, all the while keeping an eye on Andreyev, who was also keeping an eye on her. One of the doctors, whose voice Sophie recognized—he’d been the one who helped her mother roll her upstairs that morning— seemed to be doing some sort of demonstration for Andreyev. Rogers, she remembered.
“He’s a bodyguard model, just like yours,” said Dr. Rogers. “Watch. Gary?”
The other man—who, Sophie realized from his clothes and the gun at his hip, wasn’t actually a doctor but a guard— pushed a table aside to make room in the center of the floor. Then Dr. Rogers sat casually beside Andreyev, leaned back, and folded his arms.
“Now,” he murmured. “Gary here is going to try his best to hit me. But Clive won’t let that happen, will you, Clive?”
The golden-haired boy nodded with a smile.
Dr. Rogers picked at his nails. “Clive, don’t let him get past you. Go ahead, Gary.”
The guard rushed at Clive, and Sophie’s breath caught in her throat, certain he’d clobber the boy. But Clive moved1 24
with the grace and speed of a tiger, spinning aside and catching Gary’s ankle with his foot, at the same time delivering a sharp chop to the back of his neck. The guard fell heavily onto the floor, with a grunt of resignation.
“ Lux,” Dr. Hashimoto hissed, and Sophie jumped. The doctor must have said her name twice before Sophie remembered that she was supposed to be Lux. She pulled her eyes away from the strange tableau and found she’d reached the end of the bars. Dr. Hashimoto watched her sharply, and Sophie forced herself to focus on maintaining her charade. The thought ran through her mind again—If I’m here being Lux, then where is Lux?
She couldn’t account for it, but she would hold onto this farce for as long as it took to answer all her questions. It had paid off so far.
She could hear the fight continuing on the other end of the room. It seemed a very mismatched pairing—the guard was no match for pudgy Clive with his cherubic curls. It’s part of the act, she thought. They’re pulling the same thing with Lux. No one suspects a pretty little teenager to be capable of taking down an armed man. She could see how someone like Andreyev, who likely needed body guarding from time to time, would find that attractive. It made Sophie want to retch.
“Enough,” a voice said abruptly, and everyone in the room froze and looked at Andreyev. He drained his coffee. “I can see that he is more than capable,” he said, glancing at Clive. “Thank you for the demonstration.”
Dr. Rogers seemed disappointed that Andreyev wasn’t more impressed. He glanced at Lux. “Of course, Clive isn’t who you came to see, is he? Maybe you’d like to see Lux demonstrate her abilities.”
Dr. Hashimoto cleared her throat. “Ah, Rogers, Lux is only just learning to access her motor functions. She isn’t up to—”
“Bring her over.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Hana, who is the senior research partner here, you or me? I said bring her over.”
“It’s really not necessary,” Andreyev said, looking a bit pale.
“No, it’s fine,” Dr. Rogers said, waving a hand. “Just watch.”
Dr. Hashimoto looked cornered, and turned to Gary for help. He shrugged as if to say, Don’t involve me in this. Clive just smiled and stood beside Dr. Rogers. Sophie realized he must be imprinted on the doctor, and that the boy in the hallway must have been imprinted on Dr. Michalski.