“If you ever loved me, even in the smallest way,” said Sophie softly, “if you have any love for Lux or Dad or the other Vitros, if there is a shred of love left in your body—do this. Do this for me. For Lux. For all of us, all the ones you’ve wronged. Please, Mom.” Her voice faltered on the word. “You’re the only mom I ever had. You gave me life as surely as if you’d given birth to me yourself. So be my mom—you owe me this. You owe all of us, so get out there, take back your island, and save us.”
Sophie held her gaze as tears came into Moira’s eyes. Moira pressed the back of her hand to her lips and drew in a deep, shaky breath. She shook her head, lowering her gaze for a moment to the floor. Then, at last, Moira looked up and tipped her chin in the smallest indication of assent. “I can’t face her on my own—I don’t have the resources. For Strauss, it always comes down to numbers—costs and overhead and profit. Without financial backing, none of this matters. Sophie, it’s no use. I . . . I have to go. I’ve been down here far too long. I have to help the others.”
She reached out, awkward and shy, her eyes averted, and brushed her fingers along Sophie’s cheek. Sophie could feel her trembling; her skin burned where Moira touched her. Then her mother turned and fled out the door, her coat whipping behind her. It brushed a tray of clear glass vials on the counter and sent them spinning across the floor. Some of them rolled, bouncing and skittering into the shadows, but the rest shattered into a million glittering shards.
THIRTY ONE JIM
Jim dropped to his knees, slowly putting his hands behind his head. He wasn’t an idiot; he could tell when he’d been beaten. The Vitro girl made a clumsy dash for the cliff, but a silver-haired doctor snagged her before she could get three steps and held her tight.
He looked around and saw that all the Vitros had been rounded up. They were all sitting or lying on the grass, watched by a few doctors but relatively listless; they must have been sedated. Sure enough, the doctors slipped needles into the necks of the two Jim had saved and in seconds, their eyes glazed over and they slumped to the ground.“Where’s Dr. Crue?” Strauss asked.
The silver-haired doctor replied as she gently lowered the Vitro girl to the ground, “She went down to the vault, to see if there were any left.”“Can someone please explain what the hell this is?”
“Someone woke them up. And, apparently, gave them one order—to march off the cliff.”
“Yes, obviously. But who?”
“It wasn’t any of us,” the doctor replied sharply.
“Someone give me some answers!”
“Can I buy a vowel?” Jim piped up before he could stop himself.
“You,” Strauss hissed, and she crossed the ground between them and pressed the barrel of her pistol against his forehead. “Do you think you’re amusing? What do you know about this?” She narrowed her eyes. “You did this, didn’t you?”
He did his best to look offended. “Uh . . . Kidnap your science project? Check. Steal your bulldozer? Check. But wake all those kids and tell them to jump to their deaths?” He shook his head. “What kind of sick bastard do you think I am? Oh, and speaking of sick bastards, has anyone seen Nicholas lately? Or how about Scary Mary? No? I didn’t think so. Maybe you should start questioning them.”
Strauss kept her eyes on him as she turned her head to shout to the doctors. “Where’s Nicholas? And all the other little psychopaths you keep as pets?”
Psychopaths? Well, Jim couldn’t say he was surprised. Of course they were psychopaths. Murderous teenagers, explosions, plane crashes, crazy women with guns, a girl who obeyed his every word—it seemed only a matter of time before psychopaths got thrown into the mix.
“I’ll go look for them,” said a tired-looking young doctor, and she sighed and headed into the building.
“Say, look,” said Jim, in as reasonable a tone as he could muster with a gun pressed against his head. “You don’t have to kill me. I have money, lots of it—I can pay you. And I’ve got family that’ll notice, and they won’t give up looking for me. They’ll hire detectives and everything.” He wasn’t sure which was the bigger lie, but he was pulling out every card in his pocket, down to the jokers. If he could bluff his way out of this, he would, and the consequences be damned.
“Just stop talking,” said Strauss. She ran her free hand through her hair, and he realized she looked as exhausted as he felt. Well. Almost. He doubted she had been doing much leaping from exploding planes or swimming across half the Pacific. He felt as if he’d been taking part in an Olympic decathlon, one that involved running, swimming, jumping, dodging bullets, and carrying unconscious hundred-andthirty pound girls up and down mountains.
Strauss had pulled a radio from her pocket and was calling the guards who were still out scouring the island, letting them know she had Jim. Then she paused, her finger hovering over the talk button. “The girl—Sophie—where is she? When you left she was with you.”
“She was hit by a bullet,” he said. “She’s dead.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am not. You people think I’m some kind of monster! Murdering your kids, lying to you.” He tried to look offended, but he ended up just grimacing. He told himself he needed to stop provoking her; he always seemed to react to trouble by piling more trouble on top of it.
“Michalski!” She snapped her fingers at a nearby doctor, a small man with round spectacles and a drastically receded hairline.
“Yes, Miss Strauss?” He jogged over and stood fidgeting nervously with his glasses.
“Have you questioned them?”
“Yes, Miss Strauss.”
“Well?”
“Ah.” He winced and scratched his scalp. “It would seem Nicholas woke them and had them imprint on him. Then he, ah, gave them one order.”
“To march off the cliff.”
“Yes, ah, yes ma’am,” Dr. Michalski mumbled to his shoes, as if he were the guilty one.
Strauss shut her eyes and pressed the gun to her forehead. Jim estimated the distance between him and the edge of the cliff; he might make it if—
Too late. Strauss opened her eyes and waved the gun at him. “Stand up,” she said. “Dr. Michalski. Dr. Laurent.” The woman holding the Vitro girl nodded and waited. “Tell everyone to take the Vitros inside.” She drew a deep breath and let it out in a rush. “I’m pulling the plug.”
“Victoria—” Dr. Laurent began, but Strauss spoke right over her.
“I thought this situation couldn’t be any more screwed up, but I was wrong. I told Moira years ago that Nicholas and the other failed Vitros should have been put aside, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“If you’ll just wait a few minutes,” Dr. Laurent said, her matronly face crinkling with distress, “I can get Moira. We can discuss—”
At that moment, Moira Crue burst onto the scene. “What’s the status here?” she demanded. “Victoria, have they all been rounded up?” She began counting the Vitros, her eyes flickering over Jim for a brief moment.
Jim started to call out to her, to ask if she’d seen Sophie or Lux, but at that moment Strauss set two guards on her. They took Moira by surprise, wrestling her to the ground before she had a chance to realize what was happening.
“Victoria!” Moira yelled. “What the hell?”
“No more discussion, Moira,” said Strauss primly. “No more excuses, no more empty promises. You are fired. You’re no longer in charge of so much as kitchen duty. I want you gone. You two,” she said to the guards, “take her inside and hold her until I’m ready to deal with her. Dr. Michalski, you’re in charge for now.”