Replicator (The Gifted Book 2) Page 3

  “It seems that we have identified the discrepancies in your DNA that prove your replication abilities.” His speech quickened, “in a few more days we will have the resources necessary to control your gifts.”

  “Wow,” my mouth fell open, “you are worse at lying than I am.”

  He sucked his lip in tightly to an angry frown and the sensation of the healer ceased. Jeremiah’s face quickly recovered to a calm and collected apathetic glare.

  “Jeremiah,” I began as the flood of brief information that Mr. Quigley had given me in A.P. Biology regarding genetics came to me in flashbacks, “The amount of time that has passed since you’ve taken my blood samples has not nearly been enough to process DNA results, never mind search through the ‘trash’ of said results that will undoubtedly end up there from whatever innate gifts I have. Then you have to try and make sense of everything. Assuming that you’ve been testing replicators and other ‘talented’ people for a while, I’m guessing we’ve got a good two years together while you try and gather even more gifted individuals and compare our sequences.” Sighing, “I bet, however, you have someone or are getting someone that can control my abilities; some very talented mental manipulator, no doubt.” I thought of Vlaine and Draxe’s ability to alter someone’s abilities while they were using them and shook my head to rid myself of the thought. “So let’s skip the dramatics, Jeremiah, and how about we try to have a civilized relationship.”

  Abrielle. I heard the warning tone in my head. It was the same voice I would hear when Erik started his manipulation on me. Who was that? I wanted it to be Vlaine, but I knew deep down that wasn’t his voice. Vlaine would have been able to communicate more than my name. My heart sunk at the thought of not hearing from Vlaine since I was taken to Replyx. Whoever it was had gotten me to stop my rant and think about the consequences of my outburst. They undoubtedly had Nicholas still and could use him to put me in line.

  “Civilized?” The word rolled around Jeremiah’s mouth as if he was extracting every possible meaning the nine letters could have.

  I closed my mouth and looked to Beatrice and the hooded person. Beatrice’s lip quivered and she began to back out of the room. “Oh, no,” Jeremiah held his hand up, “please stay, Beatrice.” Turning to me, “I think that would be a lovely idea.”

  My gut told me to tread carefully. “Fantastic, Jeremiah, what’s next?”

  “Hello, Abrielle,” Slade slithered into the room.

  4

  Pathetic groans escaped as I lay in the infirmary with the healer getting to work on my wounds. The afternoon had been a complete attack from Slade. Orbs and explosions were lobbed at me in a constant barrage of fire. Burns covered my body after his brutal show of power. It seemed pointless since I had already demonstrated my ability to replicate the skill, but deep down I knew it was more punishment than research.

  New layers of tissue grew rapidly replacing the charred patches from Slade’s handiwork. Despite the pain I was in, I learned that the fire did not affect me as terribly if I was replicating his gift. As long as sparks were flitting above my fingertips, the explosions only knocked me backwards with a first degree burn at the point of contact.

  I wanted to keep practicing Luther’s gift. If I could master teleportation, I could teleport to safety. Nicholas would be my first priority and then we would travel to Glaston. The trouble would be finding a time to practice when, if ever, I was not being monitored.

  In the middle of my escape plans an ear-piercing screeching alarm sounded and lights began to flash. I sat up quickly, but the hooded healer put a hand on me to lie back down. Beatrice came into the room seconds before large steel bars closed in front of the door.

  “Is there a fire?” I looked over at Beatrice who was pacing nervously.

  “Security breach,” she gave a quick reassuring smile. “I’m sure someone just tripped the alarm accidentally. It happens all the time in the labs.”

  I shrugged it off and tried to relax myself so the healing could continue. The alarm persisted for half an hour before the doors finally unlocked and I was taken to the same frigid cell I had stayed in the previous few days. Once my escorts left me alone I began practicing my teleportation replication.

  Three successful attempts occurred inside the small cell. I could transport myself a few feet but each time I would fall backwards, gasping. The fact that I was holding my breath while I was trying to teleport probably did not help with the instability after a successful replication.

  “Okay, Abrielle, you can do this.” I cheered myself on, taking note of how frequently I seemed be talking to myself as of late.

  The next test was to see if I could teleport outside the room then back inside without being detected. I sucked in as much air as possible and blew it out simultaneously with my attempt. Sure enough I was looking at the door of my cell. Quickly, I did the same and teleported back into my room.

  I jumped up excitedly. If I could teleport outside the room then I could definitely get to Nicholas and back to Glaston Academy.

  The door to my cell burst open and rough hands grabbed me.

  “Take her to 12F.” Jeremiah adjusted his glasses, ostensibly calm.

  Jeremiah had never told me that I could not practice my replication without supervision. Although it had been implied, he had never said the words.

  “I wasn’t trying to escape,” I muttered, “I was just practicing.”

  He said nothing in reply, we just continued to the room. Luther’s slender hand opened the 12F door revealing a single large white pod in the center of the room. A crude standing shower was in the corner with a thin white curtain as the only offer of privacy. It took several moments for my brain to process what I was looking at.

  “Wait,” I pushed against the hands that were holding me in place. “Jeremiah I know what that is, that’s a sensory deprivation tank. You can’t be serious.”

  The tree house was filled with incredibly effective methods of torture - isolation, sensory deprivation, and the threat of harm to loved ones. I was never sure exactly what 12F was, but the pod that was lying before me was on the bottom of the list of things I had expected.

  Jeremiah’s disregard to my complaints was evident. With a brief sigh he handed out orders to his lackeys. “Slade, please fetch Beatrice and have her get Abrielle into the chamber. Luther, keep Abrielle from completing any more disappearing acts.”

  Jeremiah and Slade left the room with Luther standing there holding my arm tightly.

  “Seriously, I’m going to be stuck in that?” I looked up at Luther pleadingly. “How long do I have to stay in there?”

  “Fa’ da night,” he answered quickly, never looking my way.

  “East End?” Luther looked at me waiting for me to elaborate. “That’s a thick cockney accent you have there,” I answered his unspoken question.

  “Cockney,” he mumbled as Beatrice came in to relieve him of babysitting duties, “I thought I was quite posh.”

  I sniggered and a small bit of anxiety was lifted from Luther’s bit of sarcasm. He was massively terrifying and could intimidate any normal person from his sheer demeanor, but he had a soul. It was consolation enough to have seen it peek through.

  “Please disrobe and get on into the,” Beatrice paused and looked away. “Go ahead and remove your clothes. I’ll turn around and close the lid once you are inside.” She adjusted her pale pink skirt suit and turned around. Luther turned toward the door lethargically.

  The sense of hope Luther had instilled by his small hint of humor was shattered by her request. “This is ridiculous,” I growled.

  I had managed to successfully teleport in the room I was just in and had a decent shot at getting out of the building if I worked quickly.

  “You’re not the only telepath here, mate.” Luther’s warning halted my attempt before leaving the room.

  Beatrice sucked in a breath. “Please get inside, Abrielle.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled.

  The fear of what
would happen to Nicholas if I was unable to get to him before replicating my way out of Replyx forced me to follow the orders I was given. With Beatrice’s back to me, I unclothed and slunk into the saline water.

  “I’m in,” I called to Beatrice as tears spilled over the edges of my lids.

  I watched as she closed the cover to leave me floating in a completely black, silent, and neutral temperature tank. Trying to remain positive seemed impossible. I had been in the facility for a little over a month and the unknowns were tearing apart my heart. The well-being of those I cared about were still a mystery to me. I hadn’t heard from Vlaine and I had no idea where Nicholas was or if he was okay.

  Pushing away the negative emotions welling inside, I tried to stimulate my mind and force my focus away from the surrounding I was in. I tried to push the lid up when I thought there had been enough time for Beatrice to leave the room, but it had been locked from the other side.

  Small spaces never bothered me before, but until that point I was not stuck in one half filled with water for an indefinite amount of time. As panic set in I attempted to blast the tank open, but I could not concentrate long enough to replicate Vlaine’s gift. Feeling helpless, I allowed my mind to wander.

  Time was lost to me. I was awake when I began to see my dreams form in the darkness. Lucid images of pit snakes lurking in the water below me came into view. Hallucinations had set in far sooner than I could have anticipated and I tried to fight them by connecting to anyone in the area and back at Glaston. As hard as I tried, I could not fight through the images to concentrate on anything at all, much less communication.

  “Stop!” I spat to myself over and over just to keep some sort of sensation.

  Jeremiah’s tank was kept properly so that I could feel absolutely no temperature difference between the air and water, and the sensation of the absence of my limbs was particularly upsetting. I reminded myself that the tanks were used by some people as a progressive form of relaxation and tried to convince myself of a false reality that I had been sent in with the purpose of meditation.

  Eventually sleep took over and just as I found some sort of peace in the torture unit, the lid opened.

  “There’s a robe on the chair next to you.” Erik’s voice was gentle. “Take your time getting out.”

  I pushed myself up, my muscles trembling in response. In that moment, after being locked in a solitary cell without food for three days, being burnt, then forced into a sensory deprivation tank, I was at my wit’s end. I was close to my breaking point and the thought of Jeremiah winning the battle over my mental health only pushed me closer to the edge.

  My mind was still fuzzy and defied me as I tried to put thoughts together. I put the robe on and sat on the ground holding the fluffy material close to my body, taking in the feeling before it would be taken away.

  I stared at the back of the guy that I had at one time partially trusted, but was now actively involved in my being held against my will at their “tree house.”

  Anger welled inside me and I sneered at Erik’s back. “What is your part in all of this?”

  Erik turned slowly. “What?”

  “I understand Slade and Luther. I understand them more than I care to, in fact. You, you’re an enigma in all of this. Is it money?” I sucked in a ragged breath, “Please say money because that is something I could understand.”

  He pointed his finger at me, “you’re still sitting there thinking that Jeremiah is some bad guy but he’s not. People just made you think that.” Erik’s long hair swooped in front of his eyes but he made no effort to move it.

  “Yes,” I nodded, “hurting Nicholas and torturing me is just so… nope. I’d say it’s remarkably malevolent.”

  Irritation curled his lips into a contemptuous pout. “He wouldn’t have to do that if you weren’t so stubborn.”

  I ignored his statement. By the way Erik spoke it was like he truly thought Jeremiah and everyone else at Replyx were benevolent.

  “You know why Slade works for Jeremiah? He’s a psychopath. The man gets off on hurting people and doesn’t need to get paid for it. That’s why he has no problem saying my name. ‘Abrielle’ is a trophy for him. Luther, on the other hand, values the relationship he shares with Jeremiah, but disassociates with me because he has a conscience hidden deep down.” I scoffed, “it’s poetic, really.” I stood up, my face inches from Erik’s, “but where do you fit in?”

  He sighed and paced around the room a few times making it evident that he was not going to give in to my plea for information.

  “Fine.” I sat back on the ground. “How long was I in that damn pod?”

  “It’s a little past midnight right now, so about seven hours.” He kneeled in front of me. His hazel eyes no longer held the irritation from our argument.

  In that moment I wished that I could go back in time to when Erik was my friend. I missed our nights of studying and watching movies together. I had never appreciated how simple life actually was then. Of course, if I could have gone back I would have had the Josnic men interrogate him immediately and try to escape the entire being abducted ordeal.

  “What’s going to happen to Nicholas?” The guilt was fresh in my gut and not diminishing.

  “I have no clue,” he shrugged.

  I put my face in my hands and rubbed my temples. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

  “Don’t worry about him.” He reached around and rubbed my shoulder quickly. “How are you doing?”

  “The sensory deprivation thing really sucks. My brain just did not work and the hallucinations wouldn’t stop.” My resolve broke as I thought about having to go back into the isolation unit. “Erik,” I began ashamed, “can you please not make me go back in there tonight?”

  His expression softened. “Of course. I told you all you have to do is ask.” Erik pinched my chin softly. “I’ll be right back.”

  I tugged the robe tighter around my body as he opened the door and Slade walked in to watch me while Erik was out of the room. Bile rose in my throat looking at the massive wall of muscle that stood before me. Though his eyes remained fixed on me, it seemed as if he was staring through me.

  Out of everyone at the tree house, Slade made me the most uncomfortable. His eyes were cold, smile revolting, and the only emotions that I felt emanating from the man were basic. If emotions were colors, he only felt primary. It was as if he had no shades to them.

  An involuntary sigh of relief escaped my mouth when Erik returned. He came back into the room holding a folded up sweat suit branding the Replyx logo. “Go ahead and get dressed, princess. You’re going to get switched to room 4A.”

  “4A?” My mouth hung agape. “Really? All it took was asking you?”

  He shrugged with a grin. “Yes. You get more flies with honey.”

  In an effort to keep from changing my luck, I bit my tongue to stop from explaining that flies would prefer the vinegar. Though I made my way into the little shower area for added cover I still commanded Erik, “Turn around, please.”

  He did as I asked and I got changed into the new clothes quickly then followed Erik down the hall to my new accommodations for the evening. As he opened the door I was greeted with a warm lavender scent. A large bed lay upon marble flooring underneath a sky window. The room had its own bathroom and all the accessories one would want for their bedroom aside from any modern entertainment technology.

  “If I want anything at all, I can just ask you for it?” Thoughts began forming slowly. I was certainly not going to push my luck or try anything too drastic after hours of hallucinations.

  He leaned against the bed, crossed his arms, and nodded.

  I wanted to ask for him to let me leave, but that would simply be a waste of a request. “In that case, do you think I could get something to eat and maybe some water?” The pangs of hunger made it difficult to think and my head ached down to my shoulders from the lack of sustenance.

  “Of course you can,” he laughed as if he had been waiting for
me to ask.

  I could not wrap my mind around the game that they were playing. They were forcing my trust to Erik and he was quickly becoming the source to my comfort and provisions. Liz had warned me about the mind games Replyx played and I was in the middle of one at the moment that I had no understanding of. My mind was still not working properly after being in the sensory deprivation chamber for several hours. It would have to be a thought to ponder at a later time.

  With Erik’s blessing I was able to have a full dinner, water, and got a peaceful night of sleep in an actual bed. He stayed in the room and tried to engage in small talk with me but I responded unenthusiastically, purely from exhaustion. A comforting buzz flowed through my shoulders as he touched them gently before he left.

  After that night I was done running risks. The possibility of being starved, secluded, or tortured were far less severe threats than the idea that whenever I got punished Nicholas could be feeling their wrath as well. If they wanted me to play nice with Erik then I was going to, at least until I could figure out a way to escape the place.

  5

  After a week of being on my best behavior Erik brought me up a level higher than the one that held the rooms I had stayed in previously. “You’ve worked your way up to a B room!” Erik squeezed my shoulder proudly. He pressed his finger onto a screen that prompted the clinking sound of the door unlocking. It seemed like an unnecessary security measure that was far too excessive just like most things at the tree house.

  The stench of an electric fire met my nostrils as I entered the room. My head began to ache from the scent alone. I wondered what had caused the odor. Was it the remnants of a gift? A failed escape attempt? Another mind game? There were no outlets and no electronics in there, but the odor was unmistakable. I shot a glance to Erik, an unspoken question to which he simply shrugged.

  It took me a few moments to focus on the dwelling itself. There was a single bunk bed in the room with a door slightly ajar leading to a bathroom. The comforts of a blanket and pillow lie on the sad excuse one could call a bed. Everything looked to be steel. The walls, bed frame, doors, even the blanket and pillow seemed to be made of steel. I had to run my hand along the thin stripped wool just to prove to myself that it was indeed not made of metal.