Replicator (The Gifted Book 2) Read online

  Jeremiah let out a huff before finding his composure. “You had already wasted a minute of my time by fighting with me. I think you’ll find things will go a lot smoother with compliance.”

  I sat back in the chair and closed my eyes. Though sobs were shaking my chest, I tried to remain as still as possible. I wanted to go to Nicholas and protect him. I was the reason he was being tortured and I was powerless against the malevolence surrounding him.

  A small pinch on my inner elbow jerked my head back to attention as one of Jeremiah’s men took three vials of blood instead of the two Jeremiah had originally asked for. Apparently their demands increased in accord with the amount of flack I gave them. Once he finished the men stood me up and walked me towards the door.

  “Oh and Abrielle,” Jeremiah turned his head and pushed his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, “earlier you mentioned something about working here. I just wanted to make it clear that you are a subject, not an employee.”

  “Yes,” I kept my voice clear and polite, “that would have been an embarrassing misunderstanding, Jeremiah.”

  “I’m glad we are on the same page,” he smirked. “Gentlemen, please take her up to room 4D.”

  3

  A gentle knock woke me from my sleep. Jeremiah came in wearing a turtleneck, fitted pants, and his hair slicked back with an alarming amount of grease. I had been locked in a small cell, been poked and prodded, and watched my friend get tortured. The man standing in the doorway was trying to break me, but I was not easily broken. All my life I had turned the smallest bit of positivity in any situation and blown it into all out optimism. My goal for the day was to make Jeremiah and his lackeys sick from the cheerfulness I was going to spread.

  “Holy lacquer, Jeremiah, did someone mistake your head for a table again in the shellac lab?” I waved my hand in the air and I smiled sweetly, “it goes well with your lustrous persona. Anyway, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Ignoring my statement, he held up a packet and flicked it quickly so I could see the front of it. “Good morning Miss Abbott, it is high time we begin your demonstrations.”

  “Most excellent,” I clapped my hands together mockingly. “Let’s get this show on the road.” I jumped up from the metal slab and stood in front of him, hiding the aching in my joints from being cramped in one of the most uncomfortable rooms imaginable.

  Despite my effervescent greeting, his face never faltered, he remained calm and impassive. Jeremiah turned on his heel, handed Beatrice the papers, and began walking towards an elevator.

  I was brought to a very dim industrial floor that I hadn’t seen before that day. That part of the building was utterly dank and daunting. Prying my attention from the despondent surroundings, I tried to look at the papers in Beatrice’s hands, but she hugged them closely to her chest once she figured out what I was doing.

  I could feel how soft Beatrice was and if I was not an empath her face would have given away her gentle nature. Her brows were constantly drooped into a sympathetic position that gave me hope. It was strange for Jeremiah to have such a sweet woman constantly by his side; her position at Replyx was a complete mystery to me.

  “What’s on the list of fun things we will be doing today?” I leaned my shoulder towards her in a buddy-buddy manner.

  Her eyes went wide and she sucked her lips in, looking at Jeremiah before putting a finger to them indicating I needed to be quiet.

  “Here we are.” Jeremiah dialed some numbers into a keypad and opened a large white door.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark room, but once I did I could see what would best be described as a box theatre without any seats. A pane of glass acted as a partition between a small area with a table and chairs and the part of the room with the stage.

  “Please, Miss Abbott, have a seat.” Jeremiah directed me to a chair in the glass room.

  I obliged his request then looked over my shoulder to see Slade and Luther enter. “Good morning, gentlemen,” I waved politely before turning back to Jeremiah.

  Jeremiah began his spiel. “Your replication skills were wonderfully displayed a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh, why thank you, Jeremiah,” I interrupted. Despite my words of gratitude, I detested the fact that he had actually seen me replicate other gifts. The thing that set me apart was displayed before him in my attempt to escape the attack on Glaston Academy.

  My words were once again disregarded; he simply talked over me as if I was inaudible.

  “You are quite an amateur and I am concerned with your empathic ability. It seems that if you try to replicate a talent, you feel the pain of the receiver.” Placing lab results onto a table he chortled. “It is almost like you have your very own anti-destruction implant. Not to worry, we have plans to rid you of that.”

  Beatrice handed me a packet questionnaire tucked into the clip of a pen. “We will need you to fill these out then I will bring you to a restroom before we begin for the day.” A tight and understanding smile appeared under her apologetic eyes.

  The pages were filled with questions that were purely medical based. They asked about family history, environmental factors, and so on. Questions about my skills and how I have used them were on the last page of the packet. It was the one I could answer fully seeing how I knew nothing about my father and my mother was tight-lipped about everything in her life. I decided to keep my ability to imitate Vlaine’s appearance emulation a secret. Plans to escape Replyx included the utilization of that gift and hopefully teleportation, if I could master it on my own in a timely manner.

  Once I finished the paperwork I handed it to Jeremiah then Beatrice took me to the restroom as she promised. She closed the door and locked it quickly behind us.

  “Here,” she pulled a small protein bar out of her suit jacket. “Eat this quickly then rinse your mouth out well.”

  My stomach growled in response. “Thank you, Beatrice.” I did as she said then washed my hands and face before returning to the theatre room.

  Luther was the only one in the room when we returned. Beatrice put her hand gently on my forearm. “You’ll be practicing with Luther first and then Slade.” Her delicate fingers placed a headset atop my head. “This will help us determine which parts of your brain are used for replication. After today you will not need it during demonstrations.” My hand went instinctively to the device on my head. I hated being a test subject, though I was actually curious as to what affected my gift to replicate.

  The moment she finished Luther grasped my arm violently and led me from the glass room towards the stage. Despite his intimidating demeanor, I was determined to keep an obnoxiously positive attitude, primarily because of the loopiness that had set in from being in solitary for a few days.

  “I’m so glad we get to work together today,” I giggled gleefully. “I haven’t had much time to get to know you, Luther.”

  “Cheeky,” Luther grunted in response.

  I could not help but stare at his silver hair, a wild contrast to his rather young face. It was truly metallic looking, just a hue away from platinum blonde. Stark grey eyes held mine captive as I awaited instructions.

  Pulling out a cigarette, he put it to his mouth and lit it before exhaling. “You’re going to teleport to the middle of the room.” Luther’s English accent made a rather strong appearance.

  “Teleportation is your gift, correct?” I knew the answer, but I was hoping he would expand.

  “Yes.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so.

  I stood by his side and focused on how beautiful it would be to suddenly be back in the comfort of my home. Next, I imagined the appeal of being twenty feet away from the cigarette smoke Luther unintentionally had blown in my face. I opened my eyes and I was still next to him. I put my hand out to touch his arm so I could get contact to replicate his gift.

  Luther jerked his arm away. “What the bloody ‘ell are you doing?”

  “I can’t just go ‘poof’ and be somewhere, I
need to touch the person with the gift. If I could just transport myself out of here I would have been at the Eiffel Tower the first night I was in solitary. I can only replicate an energy blast thingy on my own and we’ve seen what happens when I do that.”

  They must have known I was unable to teleport otherwise obvious precautions would have been made to keep me from leaving. I put my hand on his arm and focused on transporting to the middle of the room. When I opened my eyes we were in the same spot.

  “Sorry,” I shrugged, “I only did it once before and that was when I was about to fall to my death at the hands of Professor Horicon.”

  I walked in a circle on the stage and tried to clear my head. Breathing in, I went to the spot he wanted me to teleport to, then turned to him and imagined he was Vlaine and that I needed to get to his side. I squared my body towards Luther and pretended if I wasn’t next to him the world would disintegrate.

  Nothing.

  Sighing at my failure to utilize the one gift that would be extremely useful, I went back to the man I needed to emulate. “I’m going to need skin to skin contact, not skin to jacket.”

  I touched my fingers to Luther’s and visualized the same scenario as earlier. I imagined Vlaine being in the middle of the room and all I needed to do was replicate to his side and I would be free of Replyx.

  “Oh geez,” I gasped as I fell to my knees after a successful gift emulation. Teleportation left my lungs completely devoid of air. I was in the middle of the room where Luther had asked me to teleport. My heart sunk when I looked up to find that Vlaine was not by my side.

  “Teleport back here,” Luther instructed as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

  Minutes passed as I tried do as he asked. “Luther, I can’t do it without touching the person with the gift.” I exhaled annoyed at myself more than anything. After a moment I quietly explained, “Something easy will stay in the vault, but feats like moving from one space to another requires me to touch the person each time.”

  He sighed, exasperated, and tossed his cigarette onto the floor then snuffed it out with his foot. “We’re staying in this room until you teleport.”

  I growled, irritated, and sat down like I would if I was going to begin a lesson with Vlaine. For a brief moment I tried to contact him. Vlaine, I’m at Replyx. Vlaine, can you hear me?

  “Abrielle,” Beatrice opened the door quickly, “you need to focus on the task at hand. You’re being closely monitored by people with many aptitudes.” She was looking at me pleadingly.

  “It was a meditation technique,” I lied, “won’t happen again.”

  The better part of an hour passed while I tried to teleport from my seated position to Luther’s side. My backside was beginning to ache from sitting on the hard floor and the longer I sat, the more my concentration was breaking from the assignment.

  Luther had remained in the same standing position he took from the beginning, a pile of cigarette butts were forming by his feet. Ignoring my stare, he pulled out another cigarette and pressed it between his defined cheeks. His patience was something to be envied.

  I shook my head to clear it from my distractions. “Come on, Abrielle,” I muttered to myself, “you can do this.”

  A loud bang echoed through the room when Slade whipped the door open. “I’ll take over.” His voice was gruff.

  “Give ‘er another minute with the teleportation.” Luther nodded at me.

  Slade leaned against the wall and stared with an unnerving amount of revulsion. A sense of urgency flowed through my body and I thought of the moment I teleported to the hay.

  I rubbed my hands together nervously. “I think I can do it, just give me a minute.”

  Neither man replied.

  I played the feelings I got from teleporting in my mind - dizziness followed by my lungs being depleted of any oxygen. Whenever I replicated I had to focus on something positive, my problem lay in finding something beneficial about standing next to Luther. I focused on the cloud of smoke lingering around his face and inhaled the scent from afar. I found my sliver of positivity in the nostalgic aroma that greeted any visitor upon entry into Steph’s house.

  A wave of nausea rolled through my body and I fell backwards, winded. My eyes opened the moment my head hit the ground. Luther was looking down at me; a small smile was on his face before he hid it by placing the cigarette in his mouth.

  “Holy crap, I did it!” I stood up slowly and nudged his arm with the back of my hand. “Did you see that?” The excitement of my accomplishment was overwhelming. I was an entire step closer to teleporting myself out of the building. “Can I try it again?”

  He nodded quickly in response. I reversed the situation and a minute later I was in the middle of the room. I fell onto my hands and knees, finding my breath before jumping up and throwing my hand into the air victoriously. “I did it again!”

  “Come back,” Luther said quickly.

  This time I was by his side in half the time. I had forgotten Slade was in the room until I heard his footsteps coming closer. Luther grabbed my arm tightly and said, “Your turn,” to Slade. In my mind Luther spoke, don’t get cheeky with him, he’s a right knob.

  Suddenly a ball of fire flew past my head and hit the back wall. Luther walked out of the room as his more intimidating comrade took his place. Slade was large and muscular with a clean shaven head and naturally olive skin. His thick nose sloped down into an exaggerated point that only made him appear more menacing. The man was downright terrifying.

  Another sphere of flames zipped by my head and I darted out of the way as quickly as I could. If he wanted me to replicate something so destructive it was going to take a lot of mental convincing to believe that such a skill could be wonderful or beneficial.

  He prepared another handful of fire to toss at me. “Let’s see it, Abrielle.” I hated the way my name sounded when he said it. It was possessive, like my defeat was a prize. He was looking forward to hurting me with his gift, I could feel it.

  “Just a minute,” I took quick steps in a semi-circle, watching his motions. “It takes a while to pick up a gift.”

  He threw the fire he had welled in his hand and it caught me in the shoulder as I tried to jump out of reach. His nostrils flared as an accomplished smile spread. Slade’s dark eyes sparkled in a sick amused fashion.

  “Argh!” I screamed, grabbing my burnt flesh. “It takes time, Slade!”

  I had no time to try and heal myself, if it were even possible. I needed to figure out how to produce fire and quickly before I found third degrees burns all over my body. The blistered skin on my arm was a distraction and I had to chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming in pain.

  “Okay,” I began speaking out loud to accelerate my mental process. “Fire is necessary, it is beautiful. People needed fire to survive. Campfires are great, candles are too...”

  Another mass of fire was thrown in my direction. I ignored it and kept thinking about the benefits of the element. I let my mind rest on the idea of a cold winter night spent by a crackling fire in a living room along with the exciting sensation of limbs and digits from a snowball fight thawing in front of the fireplace.

  My hands grew uncomfortably hot and I looked down to see sparks ignite just a centimeter above my fingers. I was mesmerized in the sparkles of light that danced above my hands. The more I watched it, the more it grew until there was a sphere of sparks the size of a golf ball rotating above my outstretched palm.

  Slade was watching intently and I knew that if I could hit him with the bit of burning energy I had replicated I would feel the pain I caused him.

  “Worth it,” I shrugged and tossed the small ball of fire at him with as much force as I could muster.

  Slade snorted as he watched my attempt fall a foot short from touching him. Fear crept into my lungs, halting my breaths as I anticipated the backlash he would have following my failed effort.

  Boom.

  An explosion of fire threw me onto my back. Mentally, I assess
ed my wounds. My elbows were bruised and scraped, there were burns on my shoulder and shins, and my shoes were on fire. I stomped my feet on the ground to extinguish the flames. My jaw was clamped shut from pain as the unmistakable taste of iron filled my mouth.

  “Abrielle,” Beatrice came into the room, “we need you to come to the office.”

  Her timing was impeccable. I thought for sure that Slade would not give up until I was blown into hundreds of smoldering pieces.

  “Thank you,” I breathed as I limped to her side. My jaw ached from clenching it so tightly to keep in the screams of anguish. Tears threatened to spill, but I would not let Slade know how much pain he was causing. He would see any sign of weakness as evidence of him winning.

  Beatrice held the door open and I entered into the glass room. “The wounds are slowing your progress and we need to patch you up before we continue.” Her apologetic look was starting to wear on my nerves. If she truly felt so terrible then she could stop this from happening.

  I sat down in the chair and watched the hooded person I had seen my first day enter the room. Gloved hands floated above my shoulder as an itching sensation overcame my skin.

  “Is that how it feels when I heal people?” My fingers twitched as the need to scratch the location greatened.

  “I’m not sure.” Beatrice whispered uncomfortably.

  “I was talking to the masked practitioner.” I tried to look at the person who now had their hands above my shins.

  “Wonderful news, Abrielle!” Jeremiah walked into the room with a sickening grin. “We have analyzed your blood work.”

  Took long enough, I thought bitterly. He sat in front of me and folded his hands in his lap. The hooded person was still healing my shins, but the itching sensation had slowed drastically when Jeremiah entered, only proving that whoever was treating my burns was not a loyal grunt.

  “Tell me the news, doc,” I began dramatically, “am I going to live?”

  Jeremiah had a habit of ignoring me whenever I spoke that was grating on my nerves.