Twist (12 page)

“I'm their daughter,” she said.

“Oh,” I said. “So it was your brother who wrote
Basic Principles of Quantum Biology
?”

She gave me a strange look. “My brother?”

“Xander Lafferty?” I said.

“You must be mistaken. I have a brother named Xander, but he certainly hasn't written any textbooks. He's a same-day chronocourier.”

“Oh.” Two Xander Laffertys running around? Doubtful. And a same-day chronocourier—the lowest of the low among Shifter jobs—in a family of celebrated Quantum Biologists?

I smelled a timeline change.

From the disdainful upturn of her nose, I could tell Lafferty didn't want to discuss it further, and I didn't want to push my luck.

She started to strap down Wyck's arms at the elbows. He bristled.

“Strictly precautionary,” she said. “Don't want you to hurt yourself in case you have any involuntary muscle reflexes.”

“What exactly are you doing?” I asked as she fixed the last of the sensors to his forehead and set the helmet in place.

“We're mapping his brain,” she said.

“Mapping his brain?”

“So to speak. Actually, we're charting his quantum tendrils. Everyone's tendrils have a unique wavelength. Like a fingerprint, only instead of leaving a mark on a three-dimensional surface, they leave their mark on the fourth dimension of time.”

Duh. Tell me something I didn't learn as a First Year. But this was also my one chance to keep her talking so I nodded along like it was fascinating.

“He's a nonShifter, though,” I said. “His tendrils only cling to the present.”

Technically, that was true for Shifters and Nons alike. A Shifter's
present
just happened to be wherever and whenever he or she was. That was key to the explanation Bergin had given me last year for how nonShifters were able to change their past. Unlike Shifters who were technically always in their present even at a distant point on the timeline, nonShifters were truly in their own past. Hence the introduction of their quantum tendrils could produce alterations to their own personal history. Still seemed bonks to me, but it didn't answer my question as to how these Neos could be anywhere but their present.

“It was a challenge.” Lafferty had a fake cheeriness to her that reminded me of one of those creepy store mannequins back in Finn's time.

“We have to calibrate the Pick to keep his tendrils stable on his trip,” she said. “The Pick has to be perfectly aligned to his biorhythms or else he could get hurt.”

As she spoke, a soligraphic object appeared in front of her. She poked and prodded it, rotating it this way and that, looking for something. She expanded its size. Unlike the last time I'd been in this building, I recognized it immediately for what it was.

“So that's Wyck's hippocampus?” It wasn't until Shifters came forward about our abilities that the full role of the hippocampus was understood. Before that point, it was thought to simply be involved in the regulation of spatial memory, navigation, orientation … that sort of thing.

“You know your Quantum Biology,” she said.

I couldn't tell whether she meant it as a compliment or not.

“Bree's studying it as her Specialization,” said Wyck proudly.

“How will you force his tendrils to stay in another time?” I asked. “What keeps them there?”

I mean, in theory, any nonShifter could try to hitch a ride to whenever and wherever a Shifter was going, but their tendrils would keep them glued to their present. Or in the rare cases that a nonShifter's tendrils did spazz and get a little too elastic, they'd be snapped back home before they realized they had left. That was what d
é
j
à
vu was.

“It's complicated,” said Lafferty.

“I like complicated things.” I knew I was pushing my luck, but quite frankly, I didn't really care. As far as I could see, the worst that could happen would be that this Lafferty woman would get angry at Wyck for bringing me along and dismiss him as a NeoShifter.

Boo-Blarking-Hoo.

She cocked her head to the side, not so much sizing up my question as sizing me up personally.

“Bree's plinky smart,” said Wyck. “Top of our class.”

“Thanks, Wyck.” Now, really. Shut up.

But Lafferty must have deemed me worthy of an answer.

“It's always exciting to have a new generation show an interest in hippocampal biotheory.” She didn't sound excited. At all. “Without boring you with the details, we temporarily trick his hippocampus, so to speak, into believing that his tendrils belong in a different time and place. Much like a natural-born Shifter.”

“Except that's not true,” I said. “A Shifter's tendrils are drawn to a specific time and place. Not tricked into going there.”

“Perhaps ‘tricked' was the wrong word choice. We
encourage
a NeoShifter's tendrils to safely adhere to an alternate spot on the space-time continuum.” She sounded like she was quoting a brochure. “The technology is much like the microchip implanted in your own skull.”

Right. The microchip that I didn't need and that no one knew had been deactivated. Still, I was the one who needed to shut up with all the where-I'm-drawn talk. Besides, as far as I could tell, that part of my brain was broken at the moment. If it were working, I'd be in Chincoteague right now. With Finn.

Lafferty drew a vial of blood from Wyck's arm. She opened a cabinet lined with row upon row of IcePicks and plucked one from the front. She inserted the vial of blood into a chamber on the side of the Pick. It looked just like my reverter only the end of the Pick consisted of a clear bulb, whereas the end of the reverter was a heart. The only functioning IcePick I'd seen up close was Bergin's. It had been full of some sort of blue fluid when it was activated, but it was empty now, as was this one.

“May I?” I asked.

There was that mannequin smile again as Lafferty placed it in my outstretched hand.

“Of course,” she said.

“Is it an injection?” I asked.

“Mmmm.” She made a noise that could have meant “yes,” or could have meant, “ask one more question and I'll launch you down that black tube myself.”

I gave her back the Pick. Nothing new to learn there. It was exactly like the deactivated one I'd stolen.

“That should do it.” Lafferty detached the sensors and removed the helmet from Wyck's head.

“That's it?” he asked.

“I told you today would be easy. You'll hear back from us within seventy-two hours to coordinate a Launch date. I'll show you to the lobby.” But then her speakeazy pinged. She looked down at it, and I could tell she really wanted to talk to whoever was on the other end.

Which meant I wanted to listen in.

“We can find our way out,” I said confidently.

“Are you certain?”

“Sure.” Wyck climbed first through the porthole, and I followed him. When we were both fully in the weightless chamber, I grabbed my pocket like I'd forgotten something. I gestured to Wyck that I was going to go back in the room, and he nodded. He pointed to the entrance port and waved. I gave him the thumbs-up.

As soon as he was out of the chamber, I drifted back over to the porthole and touched just the rim of my ear against the lowest part. Lafferty was deep in conversation on her speakeazy. I waited for a pause or hush in volume, anything to suggest she detected me, but nothing.

“… no choice. It's a matter of compatibility. We have to go with the best match. This one's 97.2 percent.” Gleeful. She sounded blarking gleeful. “You can't make those numbers up.”

“Then why am I doing this? I thought the whole purpose of taking more Shifters was to avoid this very scenario.” There was no mistaking that voice, scratched and artificial. Raspy, the person in the silver suit. I held my breath and pressed my ear closer against the port.

“What would you have me do? Go with a less-fitting subject? That's not safe.”

“Safe?” Raspy's laugh had a harsh, metallic bite to it. “So relieved to hear you're concerned about safety. Do you realize the worldwide devastation that could have occurred by allowing James Canavan to Shift to a point within his lifetime?”

“But that didn't happen.”

“Only because—” But Raspy stopped himself.

I held my breath. The finish of that thought was, only because
I
had stopped him. But if Raspy knew that, then why didn't he tell her?

“Nowhere on his paperwork did Canavan indicate a desire to change his past,” said Lafferty. “He said he simply wanted to revisit a vacation spot he'd enjoyed in his younger years.”

Raspy sighed, and with the voice-distorting apparatus, it came out almost like a growl.

“Are you second-guessing our deal?” said Lafferty after a pause.

“You know I don't have a choice.”

“Yes, we wouldn't want to have to take her back for safekeeping, now would we? I know this last procurement must have been especially difficult for you, but—”

“Don't toy with me.” Raspy cut her off with a slicing tone.

No, no, no. Let her talk.

But she'd gone into silent mode. At least I knew one thing. Well, two. Shifters were definitely being kidnapped. Nava and whoever was in that tank at the very least. And Raspy was the one doing it. I glanced at the light above the entrance to the chamber. Wyck would start wondering what was taking me so long.

“What do you want?” said Raspy.

“I want that cryolocker to stay empty just as much as you do, but we'll need your full cooperation. And a few more subjects. Strictly precautionary.”

Oh, come on! Elaborate, people! But the only response was Raspy's ragged metallic breaths.

“There's one other thing you should know,” he said. “That Shifter that was just here?”

“The girl with O'Banion?”

“She's not chipped.”

“So?”

A pause. “She has … she could cause you trouble.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Yeah, why? If he knew who I was, if he knew what I was doing, why not tell Lafferty everything? I pushed my ear so hard against the port, half my head probably popped through. But I didn't care.

“She could cause me trouble.”

“I think we can handle one nosy Shifter.” I waited for Lafferty to elaborate, but nope. Her speakeazy beeped to indicate she'd terminated the connection.

I floated over to the entrance port and scooted through the hole.

Oh, I'd show them all trouble.

I would find out why Nava had been taken, and any other Shifter—past, present, or future.

I would free my friends.

And I would make ICE pay.

 

chapter 11

THE LANDING IN THE LOBBY
was even gentler than in the anti-grav chamber, if that was possible. A thousand pillows on the soles of my feet.

Like Shifting, my arse.

Wyck sat on the ground with his back pressed to a chartreuse tube. When he saw me emerge, he hopped up, all smiles. I couldn't help but feel bad that in this version of the timeline where he could have been free of ICE, I'd been the one to drag him back in. But this was for a good cause. It was bigger than him. It was bigger than me. I had no idea why ICE was taking these Shifters, but it was up to me to stop them.

I latched onto the chance to explore the entryway a bit, brushing my hand against each of the colored tubes as I walked between them. They were all warm to the touch, to different degrees. When I got to the opaque black tube, I pressed my hand full against it.

Ice cold.

This had to lead to the cryostorage room. It had to. I stepped in front of the opening. A rush of cool air drew me in, frosty fingers beckoning me forward. My toe inched into the open cavity. There were answers down that tube.

“Careful.” Wyck tugged on my forearm, and the spell was broken.

“Sorry.” Not sorry. “Wasn't paying attention.”

“Probably low blood sugar,” he said. “I noticed you weren't at breakfast, and you left lunch so fast.”

The meal-skipping had been to avoid him, but I couldn't say that. Like it or not, Wyck remained my one link to ICE, a link I couldn't afford to break, especially now as he was about to go on his first Shift. Well, his first Shift on this particular timeline.

“I bet you're right,” I said. “Let's go grab an early dinner.”

Wyck brushed his hair against a scanner next to the door to open it.

“You have scan access?” Good to know.

“They programmed it in when I was officially accepted.”

We were halfway down the front steps when I bumped shoulders with a man heading up them.

“Excuse me,” I said, then did a double-take.

“Leto?” I almost hadn't recognized him. His hair wasn't in its usual smarmy slicked-back style, and his suit was impeccable. Probably cost a small fortune, not to mention the ridiculous amount of man-jewelry he had on. He was tanned and looked like he'd just stepped off a yacht.

“What happened to you?” I whispered. “Where did you get all the money to buy this stuff?”

He wasn't hurting, I knew that. But this get-up was in a new class.

“Do I know you?” His voice still had his typical shady tang to it.

“You…” I thought back to the change. Mom had never been in a coma, so there wouldn't have been a reason to connect with Leto. That didn't answer where the money had come from, but … ha! I was free of him.

“No,” I said. “I thought I recognized you, but I was thinking of someone else.”

“But you said my name.”

“Is your name Leto, too?” I prayed he was still more bluster than brains on this timeline. “What a coincidence.”

“Heh,” he said and turned back toward ICE's headquarters.

Ergh
. He was going to try to make another change. I really didn't have time for this.