Exposed (17 page)

Yeah, good logic
, she told herself. It was BS, she knew. She had no idea what to expect from Skyler's little meeting. She had to be prepared for anything.

Gaia heard the sound of the door swinging open and stiffened.
Here we go
, she thought. She heard footsteps—three, no, four men striding heavily into the room. Four chairs scraped against the floor as they were pulled out from under the table. Four grown men lowering themselves into their seats.

“Gentlemen, we're here to make a deal.” Gaia's ears pricked up. It was Dr. Rodke.

“As you know, the test compounds of I-23C have been reported fully successful by our lab technicians. The drug is ready to be tested on human subjects.”

Gaia recognized the speaker as Dr. Ulrich, the man who had performed her genetic modification. What drug? There was a drug? Had her surgery been part of a larger scheme? She remembered Oliver's warnings to her just before she'd gone under and felt ashamed. True, she'd had good reason to doubt his sincerity. But she'd never forgive herself if she had allowed her own curiosity to be the cause of dangerous developments in gene splicing—or whatever else Rodke and Ulrich were up to.

“Our success in creating fear was instrumental in our success in suppressing it,” Ulrich continued, sending
shivers down Gaia's spine.
Their success in creating fear …
, she mused.
Me. They're talking about me
.

I'm a part of this
.

That's
why Skyler's been keeping me so close. He must need something more from me
.

The thought made Gaia shudder with anger. It was all she could do not to burst out from the cabinet and pummel Ulrich. She tightened her hands into fists and clenched her jaw.

“And what about this beta model—this Invince that's been on the streets?” This was someone Gaia couldn't place.

“Invince is an early version of our lab compound that was leaked onto the streets for more reliable results among human subjects. It was a deliberate effort by our team,” Dr. Rodke said smoothly.

Gaia fumed. Dr. Rodke was responsible for Invince? That meant he was responsible for the recent wave of daredevil crimes and violence that had swept the city. That meant he was responsible for the skinheads who had come after Gaia. And the thugs who attacked
Ed!
But why? At what cost? What was it all for?

Gaia didn't have to wait long to get her answer. And when she did, it made her blood run cold.

“I-23C is ready for the soldiers, sir,” Skyler said, his voice ringing with pride. “With Invince in their bloodstreams, your army will be unstoppable.”

Free
will. It's an interesting concept. Human beings choose to believe that they have some level of agency over the course of their lives, some measure of control. But that's all it is—a measure. An ineffectual effort to assert power over circumstances far beyond any of our reach. And it's true of us all, no matter where we stand on the social spectrum. While a child trapped, without resource or advantage, in the inner city is likely to know a lifetime of disenfranchisement, the grandest dame of the Junior League is equally a product of social expectations, of the conventions of her peers, of the culture of consumerism. It's a paradox—those with the most capital are often those least free, burdened as they are by a need to acquire, to compete … to spend. This fierce drive toward commercialism shifts the power dynamic away from them.

GOD
Shifting the power, of course, directly toward me.

I may be young, I may be reasonably inexperienced, but I've learned a few things of late. For starters, people are pawns. A blunt, harsh fact but true nonetheless. Just pawns, waiting mindlessly to be pointed toward the next big Thing. Create a product, create a demand for the product, and you've manipulated a wave of shameless, unthinking automatons. Automatons on a quest for some Thing. Some Thing like Invince.

Of course, New Yorkers hardly need another drug. After all, most of the people in my life have unlimited access to Valium, Xanax, Prozac, Paxil…. High school kids pop these like candy; prescriptions aren't even necessary anymore. Or if you can't get a prescription, you can always nick a few doses from your mother's handbag without her noticing, right? Nowadays everyone's been diagnosed with attention deficit disorder. Heck, back during my days at sleep-away camp, I felt left out at lunchtime, being the only camper
not shuttled off to the nurse to take my meds. The Village School idiots take Ritalin recreationally! And these are only the legal drugs. It's true: we
are
a Prozac nation. And we're constantly on the lookout for the next fix.

And if our choices in drug abuse are any indication, we're a pretty freaking insecure bunch. Antidepressants, antianxietals … Everyone just wants to make bad feelings go away. And
everyone
, just about everyone in New York City, is prepared to pay top dollar to feel, well … fearless.

I can help.

My father, the amazing Dr. Rodke, would have you believe that
he's
the go-to guy. That he knows how to make the monsters hiding under the bed—
poof—
disappear. And yes, he's a science man, a man with the answers. Some of the things he's been able to do in his lab, some of his discoveries regarding genetic manipulation, have been profound. He, of course, is looking to create the ultimate
antianxietal. And he's coming close with Invince. Invince has the power to completely suppress fear, and he's going to bring it to the masses.

That's where I come in.

You may think that I'm bitter or jealous, a victim of extreme sibling rivalry. It's okay—you can think that. You'd be right.

I'm not sure quite where or when it began, this intense need to outdo my brother. When I came out, I never worried that my sexual identity might drive a wedge between myself and my father; I never minded Skyler taking on the role of alpha male. No, this need to outdo my brother, to succeed by triumphing
over
him—that compulsion was firmly in place well before I knew what being “out” meant.

My father tells me not to worry; he tells me there's enough of the Rodke fortune to go around, and sure, I reap the benefits in the form of a chauffeured car anytime I want or the ability to purchase whatever,
whenever. But it's not enough.

I know my father is grooming Skyler to be the heir apparent. But the way I see it, that job belongs to me. And I'm not going to settle for less; I'm not interested in being the also-ran. Money is nice, but as I've stated before, it isn't power. My father is getting ready to hand over the power, or at the very least to share it—and not with me. And I am not going to stand for it. But I'm not sure what to do to turn things around.

They're looking to edge me out. It's obvious. I don't know why they think their late-night chats in my father's office are so subtle. I don't know why my father doesn't realize how much investigating I do down at his labs. Maybe it's a good thing, then, in this case at least, that my father pays me so little attention. Because they don't know about me.

They know I'm God, sure. But what they
don't
know is that God's got plans of his own. While I'm out peddling their second-rate,
beta-model drug to the masses—raising demand—I'm brainstorming. Troubleshooting. I'm making plans.

Because I've got the goods. And I'm going to take them down.

And if anyone—and I do mean anyone—had any plans to undermine me—well, now, that just won't do. And I'm talking to you, Jake Montone.

I know you saw me. I know you think I
didn't
see you. You won't let yourself believe that I could be as smooth as you. That's your tragic flaw, my friend—your hubris. That's going to be your undoing.

Because I'll be damned if I'll let you get between me and my self-determined fate. I'm no common street dealer, true—but in many ways I'm worse. In many ways I have much more at stake. Trust me on this, Jake, and don't give me any trouble. I have no problems going after you.

If anything—or anyone—is going to compromise my identity, well, wait and see, my friend….

I'll just have to exact a little divine intervention.

Enough
is enough.

Will people never learn? I don't know how to get the point across. My missing fear gene? Yeah, it comes in handy. I like to be all brave and straightforward, but it's not a fabulous treat, and it's
not
something I would wish on someone else. Not even my own worst enemy. And believe me, I've got a lot of enemies.

GAIA
People have already tried to harness my “power.” Specifically, Loki tried. And all he got for it was a big, honking coma. My friend Heather wanted to be fearless. Now she's blind. It's time to face reality, people: human beings were intended to experience fear.

Sure, it's easy enough to understand why someone might want to create an army of fearless warriors. But I think, in some cases, fear actually propels people, motivates them, drives them to work harder.

Of course, I digress. My point really is that any attempt to
suppress fear scientifically has up until now failed. Big time. And I think it's safe to say that Loki had a team of experts on his side while he worked. So it's hard to see why Dr. Rodke thinks he'll be more successful. The gene manipulation he put me through wore off. He doesn't get it. He doesn't get that I am a freak of nature, not to be duplicated in science.

He doesn't get that no matter how close he gets, I'm going to stop him.

I'm going to stop him, and then, quite possibly, I'm going to pummel him. Because frankly, as I said before, enough is enough. I'm really, really tired. Tired of all my loved ones coming to tragic ends. Tired of not being able to trust anyone's motives. Tired of constantly being in danger. So I'm going to take Rodke and Simon Pharmaceuticals down. I don't know how, exactly, but believe you me, it's going to happen. Dr. Rodke, … Skyler. Chris and Liz, if they're in on it. I hope to God she's not; I'd
like to think that I have known at least one or two true friends in my lifetime, but if she is, so help me, I'll take her down, too.

And once that's done, I'm out of here. A fresh start, a clean slate, greener pastures—pick your metaphor. I've hit my breaking point. I've had enough.

It's over.

^*
It is important to note the number of people I seem to piss off on a daily basis.

^*
Will have to come back to this one. Skyler's meeting is tomorrow. TBD then.

Read an excerpt from the second book in the hot new series

the nine lives of chloe king

VOLUME TWO

The Stolen

by CELIA THOMSON

Two

“What do we do
now?”

Paul bent over; there was a stitch in his side and he was puffing like an asthmatic. He only smoked once or twice a week—this was probably just plain old-fashioned out-of-shape-ness. He put his hand on his belly and straightened up. Amy was standing stiff as a rod, breathing normally, hands on her hips, glaring at him like the whole thing was his fault.

Behind them another helicopter was circling the bridge. They had been hovering like pissed-off dragonflies off and on since Friday night. Paul and Amy hoped that the National Guard had caught up to Chloe and whoever was attacking her and split them up—but almost a day had passed, and it didn't look like there had been any resolution.

Paul thought he'd seen a body fall from the bridge, but he didn't say anything about it to Amy.

“Well?” his girlfriend demanded again.

Paul sighed.

“I don't know—what do
you
think we should do?”

“Call her mom …?” But even as she suggested it, Amy trailed off, knowing that it probably wasn't the right thing to do—or, more importantly, that it wasn't what Chloe would want. She ran her hands through her chestnut hair in exasperation, pulling on the roots. It was a leftover habit from when she was younger and tried to flatten her big, often frizzy hair every chance she got. “What do you think it was all about—
really?”

They'd had this conversation several times in the last twenty-four hours, but somehow Amy was never satisfied with Paul's answers.

“I don't know. Drugs? Gangs? Some weird psycho game of tag?”

“Maybe it's got to do with her real parents or something. Maybe she's actually some sort of Russian Mafia princess.”

Paul gave her a lopsided smile. Silently they started to walk home, not holding hands or anything. Like they had in the old days, when the three of them were just good friends. Before Chloe almost died from falling off Coit Tower. Before she and Amy got into that weird little snit they were in for days—and had just patched up. Before Chloe started seeing Alyec and Brian …