Wild Thing (4 page)

Sara pouted.  'But I'm an eagle.'  After a moment, though, she added a final, almost-polite 'aark' of compliance.

Sister Rowena had cautiously followed the girl in.  'I'm sorry for the delay, Mother, but Sara had climbed to the top of the old elm again.'

'Because eagles like trees,' Sara whispered.

'Oh Sara,' Harmon began, before the nun could reprimand her further.  'An eagle is
just
what I've been looking for.'

An hour later, Sara slumped deep in the back seat of the cab, neither looking back nor waving farewell to the two nuns who had followed them out.  Harmon entered the cab too and gave their destination to the driver, who met his eyes in the mirror with a worried expression.  Only fares deemed commercially risky – or high status – warranted a human driver.  Harmon simply frowned at the man, then settled back.

The nuns had of course been aware that he had cast spells on the girl, and also that he had been satisfied with the results.  But he had been careful to do nothing overt enough to allow them to file a complaint, and they had clearly had no idea he had begun the initial mental adjustments – the erasures – right under their noses.  Especially after he had slowed his pace to avoid any suspicions.  Sara, too, had settled down, rather to his surprise.  He had expected her to become fractious, but instead she had rapidly tired.

The cab pulled out from the curb and headed down the shabby street.  In the gutter, two grubby children continued their game of “rock death-match,” while a tramp yawned, spat, and staggered up from the pile of refuse he'd been nesting in.  But as their gazes locked, the intensity in the man's eyes surprised Harmon.   The impression of more-than-casual interest was so strong he considered probing the hobo's mind, but there simply wasn't time.

For some reason, though, the “encounter” made the oddity of his pre-approved adoption spring to mind.  He shook his head, annoyed at the transparent fears of his subconscious.

Don't be ridiculous
, he told himself. 
What am I suspecting: a
government conspiracy assisting my research?  How would they even
know
of it?
Never assume conspiracy when stupidity was sufficient explanation.  No doubt some programming or other human error had worked in his favor in acquiring his test subject.

Ward
, rather.  He had better become accustomed to referring to the girl as his
ward
.  Human experimentation was highly illegal, especially since ’38.

Passing the empty lot at the corner of the street, the cab turned, the nuns and the old brown-brick orphanage – and the tramp – disappearing from sight.

Chapter 2 

They reached the Golden Gate Bridge, Sara still struggling against her exhaustion.  Finally she sat up with an obvious effort, then simply clonked her forehead against the window and rested it there.  He wanted to ask her what she remembered of her life before the orphanage, but didn't dare do so at this early stage, while the erasures were still fresh.

He continued observing her.  For a long period she didn't move, though in the reflection he could see her eyes tracking back and forth as she took in the changing scenery.

By the time they'd left the 101 behind and entered the rolling Sonoma hills, though, she seemed a little revived.  Once or twice she summoned enough energy to point out the occasional horse, even exclaiming in surprise at the cows.

It
was
good to see the herds again, though the grapevines still struggled.  Compared to his childhood memories, the hills appeared blasted.  He sighed and eased back in his seat, ignoring the girl's occasional childish remark while he planned ahead.

At last, in the distance, the wall encircling the Institute signaled the end of their journey.  The high, pale stone barrier hugged the gentle curves of the extensive grounds.  Every meter, of course, magically warded and electronically monitored.  The cabbie's eyes met his again in the rear view mirror, the usual fearful expression a mere irritant after so many years.  At least the annoyance factor was balanced by the knowledge that with a human cab driver he could take control should he ever need to.

Still, Harmon cut him off before the fellow could speak.  'It is perfectly safe, I assure you.  Just stop outside the gates to let the security drone scan us and we'll be allowed in.  Nor will you have any trouble in leaving, provided you do so directly.  You
will
be monitored while inside: do not do anything foolish, like accepting an unusual fare on your way out.'

The cabbie laughed, nervously.

Not that any inmates were allowed outside without supervision
.  Close supervision.  He shouldn't needle the cabbies, he knew, but their knee-jerk fear always annoyed.

'Are we here?'  Sara piped up.  'What will the drone look-?'

A low hum announced the arrival of the mottled-green device.  The optics mounted in its insect-like fuselage locked on the cabin as it quickly swung around to Harmon's window.  Turning toward it to simplify its job, he let it scan and ID him, then waited while it circled the vehicle, looking down into the floor spaces and under the vehicle.  It zoomed off, and the heavy iron gates swung wide: access approved.  The cabbie accelerated smoothly up the winding road through the wooded acreage then finally out into the cleared area surrounding the Institute proper, eventually halting on the gravel courtyard by the wide sandstone steps of the main entrance.

Sara sighed and clambered out while he settled the account.  The fellow wasted no time in removing her meager belongings from the trunk and jumping back in to drive off – escorted, Harmon saw, by one of Shanahan's less-obtrusive security drones.

Sara was staring up at the building, and though her eyes drooped with tiredness he could see she was intrigued. 
S
till not recovered.  Probably a good thing I disengaged the mental probe when I did.
  Though he suspected it was more a reaction to the
adjustments
he'd made rather than to the simple mindmeld.  Still, he frowned.  It could indicate a problem ahead.

A little later he stood with two of her small suitcases of clothing while she clutched the third herself, struggling with its size and weight but determined to manage it on her own.

A heavier-duty drone emerged from a window-port and swooped to a halt in front of them.  'Evening, Dr Harmon.'  Shanahan's voice came from the drone.  'So you were successful, were you?  Or do we have a baby villain here?'

'I'm
not
a devil girl.  I'm
good
.'

Harmon blinked, and the drone's silence suggested equal surprise from the security officer.

'Thank you, Sara, we know that.  Mr Shanahan was just making a rather foolish joke.'

She frowned up at the drone.  'I'm not gonna kill people.'

This time, even Harmon was lost for words.  Several long seconds passed before Shanahan's softly-accented voice spoke again.  'Uh, that's good, darlin', that's real good.  Maybe Dr Harmon could show you into Admissions and imprint you on the security systems.'  The drone pivoted its lens toward Harmon.  'Her room's ready, Doc.  The bots've cleaned up the empty office next to yours just fine, and I've had a bed and all set up.

'Surprised everyone, Doc, when we heard you were adopting.  Never figured you for the parenting kind.  No offense.'

'None taken.  Appearances can be deceptive.  Is Professor Sanders expecting us?'

'He said he thought you'd both be tired, and you could see him tomorrow afternoon.'

That was not unexpected – Sanders ran the Institute with too gentle a hand – but it was quite welcome news, nonetheless.  'Very well.  Thank you, Shanahan.'

'You want me to come out and help you with that luggage?' came the voice from the drone.  'Sara looks-'

'I can carry it.  I'm very strong,' she said, frowning up at the hovering drone.

It wiggled in response.  'Right.  Okay.  Good.  I look forward to meeting you in person, young lady.'  The drone swept off, disappearing around the outside of the building.  Harmon turned to Sara, surprised to see tears in her eyes.

'I didn't do anything wrong!  Why did he say that!'

'Say what, Sara?  Call you a baby villain?  He was just-'

'Not
that
.  “Young lady.”  But I was just
standing
here!  Why does everyone always think I'm bad?'  Her lips trembled, but she stood her ground, staring at him as they faced one another, there at the bottom of the pale stone steps leading up to the front entrance, demanding her answer.

'“Young lady” is merely a polite way of referring to a girl of your age, Sara.  Why would you assume it was…  Ah.  Sister Provïc referred to you that way, didn't she?  When you were in trouble.  I see.'

She stared up at him doubtfully.  'I'm
not
in trouble?'

'No.  You're not.'

'Oh.'  She continued watching him, and an odd expression crossed her face.  'Are you going to be my father?'

He choked, flinching back.  'Good god, no!  Certainly not!'

'Then what
will
you be?  Didn't you adopt me?'

'Yes.  That makes you my ward, and me your guardian.'

'I don't need guarding.'

'It doesn't mean-  Never mind.  Consider me your Uncle.'

'Uncle.'

'Yes:
Uncle
.  Do you have a problem with that?'

It was clearly less than she'd hoped for, he suddenly saw.  But in the end, she nodded her acceptance, as though consenting to a deal.

'I'm not a devil girl.'

'Did the nuns call you that?'

'Sometimes.  When they got cross with me.  Then they'd get all funny and hush each other.  But that's what they really thought.  That's why they gave me away.'  She looked away.  'That's why they always give me away.'

'Those people didn't understand you, Sara.  They were afraid of you.  But I see your potential, and it doesn't frighten me.'

She looked back at him, blinking watery eyes, her expression slowly changing.  He saw a faint hope dawning, the defensive lines melting away. 
T
his could be a critical moment. 
Quickly re-casting the mindmeld he settled it lightly over her.  Illegal, and an invasion of privacy, yet necessary for his research.

But the tsunami of warmth that flooded in almost undid him. 
«
He understands me!  M
aybe
he
will-»

He dropped the spell, retreating from the wave of affection as if it were a cliff's edge seductively calling him forward.  It took effort to pull himself together. 
Too close. 
He'd ended the spell just in time: the force of her longing had been… immense.

But it would not do to become emotionally attached to his test subject.  Not with what he would have to put her through.

Forcing a smile, he indicated their suitcases.  'Come along, Sara.  I'll introduce you to the security system, then show you to your room.'

Still shaken, he led the way up the wide steps, both doors swinging open at his approach.  He strode inside, Sara struggling like a small boat in his wake, hauling her suitcase in both hands.

With the correct authority level, introducing Sara to the security systems was merely a matter of a few scans and some non-invasive bio-sampling.  The whole procedure took little time, and they soon left the small booth and headed to the main staircase, then up four flights to the second level.  He had to pause at the top as she struggled up with her single case.  Then down the long corridor to his office.

'This is the door to my work area and rooms, Sara.  Your room is this next one.'

He put her cases down, opening her door and turning back to see her still eyeing the ceramic-copper plaque on his office, clearly struggling with his research area, “Metamagical Resonance.”

But when she saw him studying her, all she asked was if his first name was “Alex.”

He narrowed his eyes.  'I think it best you call me “Uncle,” Sara.'

At the way she shrank back into herself he felt a pang of guilt.  It was for her own good, though.  'Come along.  I'll show you your room.'

She didn't move.  'But…?'

'Yes?'

'You're a doctor?'

'Yes.  Surely you can read well enough to–'

'And you help the people here.'

'Yes.  But I doubt you would understand my work.'

'Am I
sick
?  Is
that
why you adopted me?'

His mind went blank.  How did he respond to
that?

'You don't really want
me
.'

'I most certainly do, Sara.  You are very important to me.'  He almost added:
I think you will be of enormous value to my research
, but stopped himself in time.  It could be very awkward if she came to realize that.

'But rest assured, you are not sick.'

'Then why
did
you want me?'

'Because I see great potential in you, and could not bear to see it wasted by having you raised by a group of withered religious fanatics.'

That
drew a smile, and she covered her mouth with one hand.  'Sister
Rowena
wasn't withered,' she giggled.

-

Afterward, in the cafeteria, Harmon showed her how to operate the dinner machine.  She selected ham carbonara with fried eggs, he opted for a synth-steak and vegetables, and then they chose their drinks.  He'd half expected to have to stop her from ordering a Coke, but to his surprise she hadn't even considered the soft drinks.  Perhaps the nuns hadn't been totally inept in raising her?  Instead, she had copied his drink order, opting for the same glass of sparkling mineral water and a Japanese green tea.  At the table, her nose wrinkled as she sipped the hot drink suspiciously, all the while watching him carefully but saying nothing.  They sat in silence, studying one another, while he struggled to think of a suitable topic of conversation for an eight-year-old girl.