Infinity Lost (12 page)

He’s killing me.

He’s strangling me to death.

My thoughts are racing, flooded with terror and panic and pain as my lungs burn like fire, yearning for breath.

He cocks his head to the side, an expression of joy slowly spreading across his grotesque face as he squeezes the life from my body.

“Aww . . . what’s the matter? Don’t you recognize me?” he growls. “This voice and this face may be strange, but look deep into these eyes, Infinity. Look deep into the eyes of the person whose life you tore apart.”

The dark black of his eyes melt away, revealing irises of shining silvery gray.

It can’t be.

It’s impossible.

My rampant confusion triples my fear.

I feel my heart beating in my forehead. My eyeballs are almost bursting as he crushes my neck. Little flecks of color flit across my vision. I gag as his vise-like hand clamps tighter and tighter. I’m suffocating.

Dying.

“No? Still no clue? I’m hurt, Infinity. I’ve been dead for only two years. Surely you haven’t forgotten me already?”

I can’t fight anymore. My eyes roll back as my body flops loose beneath my head, limp and useless.

The last thing I feel is the rough skin of his lips scratching against my ear.

“You were the death of me, you loathsome child . . .”

Everything goes as black as a moonless night, but the pirate captain’s final words cut through the darkness like a blade.

“. . . now your dear old Nanny Theresa is gladly returning the favor.”

CHAPTER NINE

“There’s nothing else we can do, Major Brogan. We simply didn’t make it in time. The only thing keeping her alive at this point is the life support. I’m afraid she doesn’t have long to live.”

I can hear the doctor’s voice through Nanny Theresa’s bedroom door. I know I shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but this is the most intriguing thing to happen around here for ages. It happened early this morning. I thought the old battle axe was invincible, and yet there she was, lying in one of the yellow rose gardens by the gazebo behind the house.

Sophie, one of the maids, found her when she went to cut some roses and raised the alarm. Who knows how long she was lying there? Sophie said Jonah immediately called for help and then tried to resuscitate her as she drifted in and out of consciousness. A red-and-white medical transport landed on the back lawn within fifteen minutes. A doctor and two nurses leapt out with all sorts of equipment and went to work on her right there on the grass.

“How about a synthetic heart?” I hear Jonah ask.

“We could, but by her own order, her medical file explicitly states that no cyber-biological organs of any kind may be implanted,” replies the doctor.

“Transplant?”

“A transplant?!” the doctor says with amused surprise. “No patient has had a real human-organ transplant in decades. Protein-printed cyber organs are standard procedure these days. As I’m sure you already know, they function much better than natural organs. There was nothing wrong with my heart, lungs, and kidneys, and I had all of them replaced when I turned thirty. I’ve got the ticker of an Olympic athlete, and it’s all thanks to the work of Dr. Theresa Pierce, here. She is . . . or should I say, was, absolutely brilliant.”

Theresa Pierce. In all my life, I have never heard Nanny Theresa’s last name. It almost makes her seem more human to me. Almost. And Dr. Theresa Pierce?! Why on earth would a doctor take a job as a nanny? I hope she was a better doctor than a nanny, because her child-care skills are quite honestly terrible.

“I guess there’s nothing more we can do, then,” says Jonah.

“I’m sorry, but there isn’t. It’s ironic that the woman who helped develop the technology that could save her life refuses to use it.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Jonah replies.

“Would you like me to move her to more appropriate surroundings, Major?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. She loves this house. It seems fitting that she stay here until the end. I’m sure some of the staff would also like an opportunity to pay their respects.”

“Very well. We thought that might be the case. Nurse Hope has already volunteered to stay and monitor her for the rest of the day. We’ll send the transport for her tonight.”

“Thank you for all your help, Doctor.”

The door swings open. Jonah actually looks sad. I thought he hated her as much as I do.

“Hi, Finn. She’s not doing well, I’m afraid. I think we’ll postpone training until tomorrow. You’ll tell Carlo when you see him?”

I nod. “OK, I think he’s arriving today. He might even be here already.” I totally blurted that last sentence out, failing miserably to hide my excitement that Carlo will be spending the entire summer here.

A man in a white coat appears from behind Jonah. “Hello there. I’m Dr. Cartwright.”

“Sorry, how rude of me,” says Jonah. “This is Finn. Richard’s daughter.”

“Oh!” he says with obvious surprise. “I was unaware that Dr. Blackstone had any children.”

“Yes, just the one,” says Jonah. “Finn is fifteen now, growing up fast. She’s home from boarding school for the summer.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Blackstone. Your father has certainly done a good job of keeping you out of the public spotlight. Makes sense I suppose; it’s hardly fair on children to share the burden of their parents’ fame.”

“And if you don’t mind, Doctor,” adds Jonah, “Richard would like to keep it that way.”

“Your secret is safe with me. Doctor-daughter confidentiality,” he says with a wink. I just smile and nod.

“Finn, when you go to see Carlo, can you please let his dad know what’s happened, if he hasn’t heard already?”

I nod again and turn to go down the hall.

“Finn . . .” Jonah calls out. I look back over my shoulder.

“And tell him that I’ll drop by the stables in a minute; there are a few things I need to discuss with him.”

“OK,” I say and jog off along the ground-floor hall of the west wing, through the marble foyer, and out the front door into the warm sunshine and clear blue skies of a beautiful summer’s day.

My shoes crunch on the gravel as I break into a sprint across the driveway, down the hill, and across the wide green expanse of the front lawn. I feel a little guilty to be in such a good mood, but I really can’t help it. Nanny Theresa has been nothing but ice-cold to me my whole life.

When I was four, I made her a Christmas card. It had reindeer and a snowman on the front made out of macaroni and glitter. I was so proud of it when I gave it to her. She didn’t even open it; she just took it and walked out of the room. That afternoon I found it when I was helping Mariele sort the recycling from the trash.

Mariele. I haven’t thought of her for years. I was almost six when she left. Wow, was that really nine whole years ago? Sometimes it feels like yesterday. I wonder what she’s doing now.

With a dozen silly scenarios racing through my mind, I run across the polo grounds, past the far grandstand, and then onto the concrete path that leads around the corner toward the stables.

I can see Mr. Delgado brushing down one of the horses just outside. I jog over to him and he greets me with a smile.

“Finn, I guess you’re looking for Carlo?”

I nod.

“We just got back from the airport twenty minutes ago. He’s at the house unpacking.”

“Thanks!” I shout as I turn back the way I came and run off in the direction of the Seven Acre Wood. After a few minutes I hit the edge of the trees and run along the dirt path that leads to Carlo’s dad’s house.

“Finn!” calls a voice from up ahead. In the distance I catch a fleeting glimpse of Carlo’s face as it disappears into an upstairs window.

Carlo’s dad paid for him to go to a fancy private school overseas and he spent last summer with his mom, so I haven’t seen him since Jonah introduced us to Onix and started our training two years ago. It would be a massive understatement to say that I’ve been looking forward to seeing him again. I have to admit that I’m kinda nervous. I’ve grown up a lot in the last two years, so of course I’m expecting him to have changed as well. But when Carlo bursts out the front door and jogs toward me, my stomach suddenly seizes, I half-trip and stumble over some twigs, and all my expectations go rocketing out the window.

Holy crap.

Who the hell is that?

Carlo still has the same thick, wavy black hair, deep emerald-green eyes, and smooth caramel skin, but everything else is very different. His jaw is defined, squarer, almost rugged. He looks like he’s grown about a foot, his shoulders are broad and muscular, and his arms look hard and strong. He’s wearing a tight black tank top, gray jeans, and sky-blue trainers with white stripes. He smiles at me as he gets closer and I stare at him like a startled squirrel. He looks freaking incredible. And here I am in my shorts, baggy t-shirt, old trainers, and no makeup with my hair pulled back in a rushed ponytail secured with a rubber band. I suddenly get an insane attack of the nerves. My stomach clenches. The memory of how I felt when we shared the innocent kiss by the pond two years ago is immediately erased and replaced by the powerful desire to do it again. And this time, do it so much better. Oh god, yes.

He runs up to me and grabs me into his arms, lifts me off the ground, and swings me around, both of us laughing.

“Wow,” he says, putting me down. “Look at you. I bet your boyfriend at boarding school is the envy of the whole tenth grade.”

I can feel myself blush like an idiot. “They call it year ten at my school,” I say pushing him backward playfully. “And I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he says, smiling. “So, how’s it all going at Bethlem Academy?”

So hot. So crazy hot.

“Finn?”

“Wha . . . sorry, what was that?”

“How’s it going at Bethlem?”

Get it together, Finn. Be cool.

“Oh . . . yeah, it’s um . . . it’s cool to be around kids my own age, even if some of them are a bit stuck-up. Jonah was right about the schoolwork; I could do it with both hands tied behind my back. Sometimes I even throw a few test questions, y’know, so I don’t look too nerdy.”

“Like I said, smartest girl I know,” Carlo says, smiling warmly.

There’s a beat of silence. We just stand there looking at each other. I wonder: Does he still think I’m the prettiest, too? Whatever he’s thinking, I know one word which springs to my mind when I look at Carlo.

Gorgeous.

“Well, it’s been two summers, Finn. The question is: Have you been keeping up your combat training? I know I have. I’ve got three different instructors now. I’m getting pretty good, if I do say so myself.”

“Training . . .” I’m suddenly pulled back to my senses. “. . . about that, Jonah said . . .”

“There’s only one way to find out.” Carlo pulls off his tank top over his head and I bite my lip. I stare at his body and completely lose my train of thought again. There’s not an ounce of fat on him; his olive skin is tight over the hard muscles of his torso. He tucks his tank top into the back of his jeans.

“Try and take it,” he says. “Bet you can’t.”

Be cooool, Finn.

“I’ll take that bet. And your stupid top,” I say, trying to concentrate on his eyes and not his abs. To be honest, both are equally distracting.

“OK, then. Bring it,” he says with a cheeky grin. Carlo backs up and circles sideways in a wide curve around me, his hands out in front of him in defensive positions.

I immediately mirror him, circling the other way.

“You’ve got no chance, Blackstone. I know what you’re going to do before you do.”

“Oh, really? And what would that be . . . Delgado?”

“Well, if I told you, then I might miss out on seeing the surprised look on your face when I take that fancy little friendship bracelet of yours.”

“Oh, this?” I say, holding up my hand and waving it mockingly.

He nods with a cheeky twinkle in his eye.

“My friend Bettina gave this to me; it’s staying right where it is.”

“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” he says.

“I think you’d really like Bettina, Carlo. You’ve got a lot in common. Oh, except for one big difference,” I say, slowly digging my back foot into the loose dirt and twigs.

“Oh really, and what would that be?”

“Unlike her . . . you talk waaay too much.” I kick my back foot forward hard, and twigs and dirt spray up from the ground toward Carlo’s face. He dodges quickly to the side and springs toward me. Wow, he’s fast. His hand goes straight toward my bracelet, but I’m fast, too. I grab his wrist with my other hand and roll onto my back, taking him down to the ground with me. With both feet I push up into his stomach and launch him over my head. Looking up from where I’m lying, I see him execute a textbook midair forward flip and land in a crouched position with his back to me. Impressive—but now’s my chance. I backward-roll onto my feet and turn, and my hand shoots out toward his tank top but misses by a fraction as he spins his hips and sweeps his leg in a swift curve across the ground, sliding my legs out from under me. I go heels-over-head, hand-plant the ground, and one-arm cartwheel to the side, landing cleanly back in a solid-footed stance.

“Not bad,” says Carlo. “You almost had me.”

“I’m only getting started,” I say. It’s obvious he’s carried on his training. His eyes are focused and his moves are smooth and fluid.

But I’m definitely no pushover.

I launch toward him and throw a fast punch just to the side of his face. I don’t want to hit him; I just want him to turn enough for me to grab that tank top from his jeans and show him who he’s messing with.

He dodges to the side. But it’s the wrong side and my knuckles land squarely on his cheekbone with a loud smack.

“Oh my god! Carlo, I’m so sorry! Are you OK?”

Carlo stands there smiling, rubbing his face. “My fault. Got distracted.” He pulls a vibrating phone from his back pocket. He glances at the screen, presses it, and shoves it back into his jeans.

“That’s gonna leave quite a bruise,” I say.

“It’ll be fine. Honestly, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m so sorry I hit you.” I walk over and give him an apologetic hug. His chest feels hot against the bare skin of my cheek. “Y’know, it’s really good to see you,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

“It’s good to see you, too,” he replies, peeling himself out of our embrace and taking a step back. “Um . . . so, what time is training this afternoon?”

“Oh yeah, Jonah said that training has been canceled for today. Nanny Theresa had a heart attack.”

“No way. Is she OK?”

“Not really; she’s still alive, but only just.”

“That sucks. For her and for us. I was really looking forward to training with Major Brogan again. He really knows his stuff.”

“Yeah, it is too bad,” I say with a grin. “You could use all the combat training you can get.”

“Is that right? And why would that be?”

“You tell me.” I hold up his tank top and throw it in his face.

“Hey!”

I can’t help laughing as he untangles it and tugs it back on over his head.

“I won,” I tease, playfully gloating.

“I’d say it was a draw,” Carlo says, holding up his hand. My friendship bracelet is around his wrist. “I’m keeping it, by the way. It’ll remind me of you when I’m at school,” he says with a grin.

I should protest, but if giving up a plaited string bracelet makes Carlo think about me even once when he’s away, then in my book it’s a pretty good deal. “Fine,” I say with obvious mock anger, and Carlo smiles.

“Well, if we don’t have training today, I better go help my dad.”

“Your dad! I was supposed to tell him about Nanny Theresa!”