Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) (29 page)

“Nightshade, sir.”

“Nightshade,” he echoes. “I like it.”

His approval is not required, but I’m glad for it. It’s odd to me to think this man, not Nikolai, is my ultimate CO. I’m been programmed to wait and listen for Nikolai’s next command, and I’m again feeling out of place here.

“We, unfortunately, can’t do any pomp and circumstance for you,” Secretary Williams says. He sits on the edge of his desk, talking to me like we’re old friends. “Shame, too, because you’re about to become this country’s best asset.”

No pressure there, Penelope.

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

He smiles a fatherly type smile, like he’s proud of how I think and conduct myself. It makes me feel weird. I’ve gained a different type of confidence than I had the first time I met him. Back then I was cocky, self-assured that I was the smartest person in the room. Now I have the confidence in truly knowing myself, knowing every aspect of my mind and body and how to control whatever situation I’m in.

I’m a different person.

He approves of this person.

I can’t deny the pride that gives me.

“Now, I’m sure General Zolkov briefed you on this, but it’s required that I go over it again. No one can ever really know who you are or what you do. Your parents, of course, know you, but they can’t be involved or informed of any missions you take.”

“Understood, sir.”

“It’s probably best to limit you contact with them.”

“Not a problem, sir,” I say, and I mean it.

I have nothing to do with Hassan already. Limiting my contact with him will be easy. My mother and I have never had an easy relationship, and I can’t imagine trying to build one with her now. Like I said, I’m a different person. The world I have existed in the past two years has altered my perception. I can’t be even the little slice of normal she always tried to make me be anymore. I can’t sit on the couch and watch TV without wondering if all the doors and windows are secured, wondering if the phones are bugged. I’ve seen the nuts and bolts and screws that make up the world. I can’t go back to just seeing a complete cabinet anymore.

“Excellent,” he says with a strained smile. I wonder if it bothers him that I’ve let that part of my life go so easily. It’s a curious sensation, realizing that I’ve become the person he envisioned when we first met. I’ve let it all go and evolved. I can’t even remember the old Penelope.

“Get some rest, Penelope. The council will have a mission for you soon, I have no doubt.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say.

A mission. A real honest-to-God mission.

I never dreamed this is where my life would lead me, but it feels like the right place for me to be.

9

I get us on the road again with a new car, some cash, new clothes, and a bit of groceries. It’s pushing midnight, the road so dark and empty that my headlights seem too bright, like a giant spotlight warning people where to find us.

We’re somewhere in Indiana, keeping to the main highway like it’s the only road that exists. I know I should stop and find a motel. A solid night’s sleep and a warm shower sound like something worth selling my soul for right about now.

I glance over to the passenger seat. Nikolai is passed out with his head against the side window. He strikes an odd profile in the new clothes I got him. A navy blue T-shirt that hugs his wide shoulders tightly, a pair of jeans that are a little loose around the waist, and a pair of black Nikes. I like being able to see his neck and arms. They’re thick and sinewy, lethal-looking even when he’s unconscious. They are exactly the same as they were ten years ago.

It’s strange that he hasn’t aged since then, but I’ve come to the conclusion that the regenerative properties of his skin are probably the reason for it. I do wonder about the scar on his face and his tattoo, though. Both are wounds that didn’t fully heal. How is that possible when everything else, including aging, is fixed by his skin?

I don’t care what Claymore says. He’s basically an X-man. Probably should have told him to do some research at a comic book store to figure out what’s going on with Nikolai.

I laugh softly as I pull into a campground and park. It’s around two in the morning. The world around us is asleep. I would very much like to join them.

I’m just going to rest my eyes. Just a few minutes so they stop crossing when I stare at the road.

Bright light stings my eyes when I eventually open them. I shield my face with my hand and realize the sun’s up.
Great
. I slept in.

I stretch, scrubbing my hands over my face. “How was your sleep?”

Nikolai doesn’t respond, and I look over to find his seat empty.

“Nick?” I check the back seat and the front seat several times as Claymore’s numerous warnings run through my head.

You know better than to drop your guard, Shade.

The keys are still in my pocket, so he didn’t take them from me. I jump out of the car, checking the tires. All four are fine, no punctures or flats. I unlock the trunk and check the supplies. My backpack is there, weapons still inside. The food and extra clothes I bought are all accounted for.

Where did he go?

I scan the remote space. There’s one trailer parked ten yards away, but other than that, we’re alone. It’s morning, but still early. The sun is just starting to rise. I don’t see any people.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t find someone and kill them and take their car.

No. His priority mission was to take me in. He wouldn’t leave without taking me with him.

Unless he’s programmed to return to his handler in the event that he’s been gone too long. He left twice before without taking me in.

I throw on the black leather coat I bought, tucking my gun in the pocket. I’m dressed in almost an identical outfit to Nick’s. My shirt is black, my jeans are snug, and I wear a pair of black Converse shoes that pinch my toes together. I’m highly aware of all the bruises and scrapes on my body. My leg is still tender with each step. The burn spot under my boob itches as I walk, my bra rubbing against the bandage I put over it.

I search the immediate woods near the car. I don’t know why. I just have a feeling he’s not gone. It’s that time of day when everything is hushed. I can hear animals scurrying in the trees and around the ground, but most other noises are silenced. A light, misty fog clings to everything, dampening my hair.

If he walked into the woods, he didn’t leave a discernible trail for me to follow.

Damn.

The further I walk, the more I sense I’m not alone. I can’t hear him. I can’t see him. But I
feel
him close by.

I hold tight to the gun as I survey every inch around me.

A twig snaps behind me, and I react.

I spin, holding the gun up, ready to fire. Before I can register who’s there, he hits my wrists, twisting the gun from my grasp and aiming it at me. Disarmed in two-point-five seconds.

Shit.

I hold my hands up in surrender as Nikolai points my own gun at my face. His eyes are narrowed, his muscles taut. His reaction was every bit as instinctual as mine had been. It’s an automatic pilot neither of us can entirely switch off.

“It’s okay,” I say. “It’s me. Penelope.”

That doesn’t seem to mean anything to him right now. He releases the safety.

“It’s me, Nick,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s Poppy.”

Poppy
. That does it. He blinks, and the hardness is gone from his face. He snaps out of it like he just woke up from a long nap.

Poppy is a trigger for him.

His eyes widen as he sees me with my hands in the air. He locks the safety on the gun and turns it over in his hand, giving it back to me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say, tucking the gun back in my pocket. “It’s not something you can control. I know.”

He looks agitated, on edge as he tries to agree with me. His eyes nervously roam the forest.

“Why were out of the car?” It sounds like more of an accusation than I mean it to be. I didn’t command him to stay in the car, didn’t handcuff him to the dashboard. He was free to do whatever he wanted. Still, I didn’t like waking up to him gone.

“I had to…” He waves to the trees.

“You had to go hiking at six in the morning?” I guess.

He shifts his weight, rubbing the side of his neck as he shakes his head. “No, I had to… relieve myself.”

He cringes as he says it, like he’s embarrassed to talk about stuff like that with me.

If only he knew everything I’ve ever done with that part of his body…

“Right, peeing,” I say, and my bladder decides it would like to join this part of the conversation. I could go myself, but I’d rather get back on the road and find some civilization before I do. Toilets really are a girl’s best friend.

He watches me intently with his hands hanging at his sides. I can’t get over how weird that is. Nikolai was always the one in control, always the leader. I can’t reconcile that with the meek creature waiting for my next command.

I motion in the direction of the campground. “Let’s get back on the road.”

He follows me without question. I keep the gun in my pocket but take the coat off, tossing it in the backseat before I climb behind the wheel. He doesn’t ask me where we’re going or what we’re doing. He stares at the window like the world around him doesn’t matter.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

His response is, “Should I eat?”

I try not to feel like he’s punched me in the heart with those words. He’s been programmed to be a drone. He doesn’t have any free will. I know this. I’ve realized it from the minute I got him talking in the motel.

That doesn’t make it easy for me to accept.

I find a place to stay, ushering him into yet another motel room. He doesn’t have comments about the scenery, doesn’t give a shit that our lives are reduced to driving and crashing at places you can rent by the hour. He has no real concept of a life.

“Why don’t you take a shower while I fix us some sandwiches,” I tell him.

I toss him a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. He stares at them as if they're bombs he can’t deactivate.

“This one you scrub your body down with,” I say, pointing to the bar. “And this you put just a small amount in your hair and rinse it out.”

He doesn’t look overly confident when he heads to the bathroom, but as long as he gets naked and stands under the water for a few minutes, that’ll be better than him not taking a shower.

I lay out the ingredients for ham sandwiches. I’ll never be on the cover of
Martha Stewart Living
but I can slap some ham and cheese between two slices of bread. I make one and eat it as I make a few others.

I consider waiting for him before I eat another, but my stomach isn’t down with that plan. I shove the second sandwich in my mouth, chewing just enough to choke it down. I realize I haven’t heard the water turn on yet even though he’s been in the bathroom for a while.

“Nick?” I say, knocking on the door. “You okay in there?”

That’s when I hear a groan. Thankfully, he hasn’t locked himself in. I push the door open, shocked to find him sitting on the edge of the tub, stark naked and shaking.

“Hey,” I say, kneeling in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

He wrings his hands so hard I’m afraid he's going to dislocate the joints. His cheek is jumping hard. I can see restraint in every muscle in his body. He’s fighting something inside of him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask again. “What do you need to do?”

He stares at the ground as his body jerks uncontrollably.

“Look at me soldier,” I say with force. His eyes blink and turn toward mine. “What do you need to do?”

“Report to my handler for reeducation,” he says between spasms.

Damn. His programming is resurfacing. The longer he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to, the less control he has over himself.

I really want to find the bastards who did this to him and skin them alive.

“Dismiss that order, soldier,” I say. “You have a new mission.”

It’s a stretch, but I figure it can’t hurt to try.

His body twitches again, but he’s not fighting what I’m telling him.

Trust me, baby.

“
I
am your new handler.”

It’s not a magic wand, but his body stops shaking as much.

“Do you understand me, soldier? You will follow my commands now.”

That slows him down more until the tension in his body eases. “Yes,” he says with a slow breath. I know his programming goes deeper than I can with just commands right now, but I hope I’m giving him the ability to assert his own control.

“Good,” I say. “Now take a shower.”

I don’t hang around to see if he breaks down again. I need a minute. I lean against the wall, staring at the closed bathroom door. I don’t know how he did it. I don’t know how he had the strength to break us down and rebuild us as recruits. I know he cared about us. Even pain in the ass Ace meant something to Nikolai, but he never let that show during training.

I’m not strong enough for it. Not yet.

I tell myself he needs me. He won’t respond to anything but me.

I have to find the strength.

He takes ten minutes in the shower. He emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair dripping down his forehead.

“Get dressed while I shower, soldier,” I tell him.

I strip at lightning speed and wash quickly. I consider forgoing washing my hair, but I feel disgusting. I’m mid-shampooing when I hear the bathroom door open. I don’t need to look to know he’s watching me. I don’t know if it should feel creepy.

He’s seen it all before.

“Do you need something?” I ask, turning to him as I rinse my hair. I feel his eyes trail the water as it runs down my body. It’s not sexual. He’s watching me like he’s trying to find some piece of me that’s wrong.

Some part of me that proves I’m not me.

I turn the water off, stepping out without trying to hide any part of my body. “They’re real,” I say, reaching next to him for a towel. “Wanna touch them?”