The Lethal Agent (The Extraction Files Book 2) (18 page)

CPI-700, NEW YORK

SEPTEMBER 9, 2232

GALLEY AT 2100

Theo read the ecomm and wondered what it could be about. Aside from Mable, Osip was the only other friend Theo had, though they barely saw each other. Between Theo’s jaunts to extraction locations and his long hours in the lab with Mable, there wasn’t a lot of time for anyone else.

“Did you just get an ecomm from Osip?” Mable asked from across the light table. Her red curls were pulled up at the back of her head and streamed out in a hundred directions. With the light from the table illuminating her features, Mable was a stunning beauty.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had trouble concentrating.

“Uh, yeah. What’s that about?”

Mable set down the bug jar in her hand and replied, “No idea. What’s it, 2035 now? I guess we can finish up and head down.” It was more than she’d said to him all day.

Theo tried to pretend she was upset at leaving CPI, at having a long term assignment so far from her friends, on another planet in fact, but he knew better. She was pissed at him, angry at his comments that she couldn’t do it.

He’d only tried to protect her.

He should have known better.

Above the table, a chaotic flow chart hovered. In each circle, the name of a confirmed bug host and their field of research was featured. Each branch constituted some sort of professional relationship. As they’d gone back, each bug host had had some sort of contact with a previous host. They’d worked on the same project, the same lab, been mentors and mentees. If at first a relationship didn’t seem obvious, they would do a little searching, and sure enough, the two would have a connection.

A pattern was starting to form. They didn’t know what it was yet, but it was there.

In addition to the hosts, Mable went through the chart and documented the type of bug extracted, and, if possible, which jar on the table held that particular bug. It was a considerable amount of work that had taken them several days and nights with intermittent sleep over the course of the last week, but it was coming together. They would have new information to present to Arrenstein before they left.

The stool screeched as she slid it across the floor. A moment later she was on her feet and heading for the door.

“Hey, want me to walk you down?” Theo offered, jogging a little to catch up.

“I’m fine. I’m sure I can handle it.”

Yep. She was definitely pissed.

Theo had no idea she was raised as a Scholar, or that Arrenstein was sponsored. He had been wrong on nearly every count.

And, he hadn’t known she was involved with Dasia when he kissed her. No wonder she didn’t seem interested in getting to know him. She wasn’t interested in getting to know guys in general.

Theo sighed and bowed his head as he stepped in the elevator beside her. She pretended he wasn’t there. Theo, too, wanted to be somewhere else—to crawl into a hole and die, perhaps.

When they arrived at the galley, it was transformed. Strings of lights and antique paper lanterns hung across the ceiling, glowing bright in the absence of the fluorescent lights. Energetic music played from somewhere in the kitchen, a band he didn’t recognize.

Knox, Osip, Dasia, and Georgie all stood waiting, cheering when they entered. Dasia’s hair was long, blonde, and straight. She almost looked like a different person.

“What’s this all about?” Mable asked, eyes wide with surprise.

“It’s your going away party!” Osip announced.

Theo didn’t know how any of them knew. He hadn’t even had a chance to speak to anyone but Mable since the meeting—well, work in silence alongside her, anyway.

When he saw Mable and Dasia hugging, he knew how it had happened.

Osip reached behind him on the table and produced a bottle of clear liquid. “Anyone up for a drink?”

“I definitely am, but I’m not drinking that. Do we have anything less lava-flavored?” Mable held the back of her hand over her mouth as if she could smell the contents of the bottle.

“Everything else is Dr. A’s personal stash,” Osip replied.

“Oh, that brandy? I’ll have that.” Mable darted into the kitchen and emerged a minute later with a bottle of amber liquid, one Theo recognized from Dr. Arrenstein’s office. He’d only had a taste, the day he was reassigned to Mable’s team, but he hadn’t forgotten it.

Still, he didn’t want to drink the director’s personal liquor.

Mable filled her glass with the brandy while the others sipped at the vodka. Sure enough, it tasted horrible, like spoiled fire.

“Take your time, D.” Osip winked as he poured her a glass.

“Oh, god. Don’t remind me.” She shot it back in a single motion like she’d done it a thousand times.

Sitting around a table piled high with food, they ate like kings and drank the horrible liquor. Only Mable dared to drink the brandy, but Theo was quickly coming around to the idea. He didn’t know how much more of the vodka he could take.

“What’s this music you’re playing, Knox?” Dasia asked as she munched on the fruit from her plate.

“Got me, celery stick. The weasel made the pasta.”

“I didn’t know you were a weasel,” Mable said to Osip, though Theo had no idea what that meant or how she would know it was him.

“Not a very good one.” He laughed.

“What’s a weasel?” Georgie asked, clearly as lost as Theo.

“It was an animal,” Osip said, as if that explained it.

“Are there any more?” Mable wondered aloud.

“You know, I don’t know. Let’s look it up.” Osip produced his tablet and searched. When he found it, he displayed the small mammal over the table. “Nope, extinct in 2132. That’s a shame. Looks kind of fun actually.”

“Goes up and down,” Knox attempted to help, though it was lost in his strange speech patterns.

“Is that what you did Mable? Back at the Root,” Dasia asked.

Mable nodded and emptied her glass. “Not a very good one,” she said with a laugh, the one Theo knew was the real one.

The song changed, yet another one Theo had never heard, but Mable and Osip clearly had. Both perked up and started laughing before Osip said, “Come on, D. I’ll show you how to dance. This one’s fun.”

“Maybe after a few more.” She held hands in her lap like she was too shy.

Osip pressed his hand on the front of his tailored suit vest. He tried to recover quickly and said, “All right, then. Mable?”

Mable folded over in her chair, laughing so hard before she popped up and stood next to him. “I can’t believe you know this one.” They stood, both facing the group, two feet apart, and, in time to the music, they both stomped with one foot and then the other.

Mable’s sneakers weren’t as loud as Osip’s dress shoes, but she kept her motions in time, at least from what Theo could tell. They moved to the music, stomping, clapping, turning. At one point, she turned to face him. The next moment, he grabbed her waist and lifted her over his shoulder, where she flipped and landed behind him, back pressed to his.

Theo’s jaw hung open, impressed. He had no idea she could do anything like that, that she liked music or dancing or any of it.

And he was in awe just watching her—laughing, smiling, moving and having fun like she scarcely did with him.

Dasia, Knox, and Georgie cheered and clapped at each new move. Theo, too, couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Osip took Mable’s hand and spun her around so many times Theo couldn’t count. She twirled and stopped just in time to face him and put her hands on his shoulders. As the music died down, he bent her back and kissed her cheek.

For several eternal seconds, they remained there.

Theo’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like it.

When at last they came up, the song was over. They bowed to each other and took their seats at the table again. Mable poured herself another drink and shot it back.

“That was amazing,” Dasia began.

“Next time, we’ll do it. I’ll show you. It seems hard but it’s easy once you get into it.” Mable leaned in and whispered something in her ear. When she pulled away, they both smiled.

“I can’t believe you guys are going to the moon,” Georgie offered. “That’s totally crazy. I wish I could go.”

“Maybe you will one day,” Mable replied.

“Nah, at this rate, I’ll be lucky to see a bug before it’s all over. You guys will find ‘em all before I get Jane out of her room.”

Theo had all but forgotten about her. They’d been close once, as close as Scholars could be. Now, she was so far from his thoughts he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her. Maybe that call the day in the Toronto café, the day he told her it was over.

He felt sad she was the only one not there. Like she’d never gotten over it.

Then again, she probably wouldn’t have had fun. She wasn’t the type to dance between tables in the galley.

Theo couldn’t believe it when, four songs later, another one came on with a similar beat and style. It had different flares, some kind of horn, but in its roots, it was the same. Osip bolted up and took Dasia’s hand, pulling her to the open space between tables to show her the dance.

“Knox?” Mable asked with her hand out.

Knox smiled wide and accepted. “Well slit my chicken lick,” he said as they took their spots. She looked ridiculous beside him, a quarter his size. He was painfully off in his timing, but she was gracious as she showed him each move.

Theo tried to pretend it didn’t bother him. He loved music, but dancing had never been his thing. He didn’t really want to do some ridiculous dance, but he did want Mable to pick him. It surprised him how much it hurt.

It hurt a lot, actually.

Stomping, clapping, turning. It was the same dance all over again, the same laughs, the same moves. Knox didn’t flip Mable over his shoulder, but instead, she showed him another twirling move as an alternative. Dasia squealed and giggled as Osip flipped her over his shoulder.

It was hard to tell who was having the most fun.

Osip and Dasia looked like no one else was there. Theo wondered when that had happened. Mable had fun with anyone who wasn’t him. Knox looked like she’d made his dying wish come true, a huge, happy grin plastered across his full cheeks.

On one hand, Theo was happy for him—for all of them. They arrived at CPI a sad band of misfits and outcasts. Now, at last, they were finding their places, readjusting to this new life.

On the other hand, he wished he could take part. Wished he could be the one to make Mable so energetic and vibrant. The fact that he could only piss her off frustrated him all the more in light of everyone else’s fun.

When Osip leaned in to kiss Dasia, he missed her cheek and landed on her lips, though not by accident. Her arms wrapped around his neck and the new curtain of blonde hair cascaded beneath her.

Georgie cheered, hooting and hollering for their public display.

Knox did his best to tip Mable, though his horrendous balance left her barely leaned back. Still, she smiled and lifted her hand to her forehead in a swoon before letting him kiss her cheek.

The song faded into another, calmer one as the four of them returned to the table. Osip refilled every glass with vodka, brandy for Mable, and lifted it in the air before him. “I hope you guys have the best damn time on the moon!” He shot back his drink followed by the rest of the group. Theo didn’t think he wanted anymore, but he drank when they did.

It burned, but not as bad, a clear sign that the alcohol was getting to his head.

Osip leaned in and kissed the top of Dasia’s head as he found his way back into his chair. “I can’t believe you convinced her to go blonde,” Osip said to Mable, only half-joking.

Mable moved to sit by Dasia, braiding her hair as they talked—likely to rub it in his face. “She looks fucking amazing, and don’t act like you don’t think so.” Like an expert, Mable’s fingers dipped between strands of blonde hair and folded them back, under, and over, a stunning, elegant pattern forming even as she argued with Osip.

“Oh, I’m not. She looked amazing before. I’m just shocked you convinced her she needed to change anything.” Osip spoke to Mable but looked at Dasia.

“I think she looks beautiful no matter what kind of hair she has,” Georgie offered to quiet the flames a bit, failing miserably.

“She can change it back whenever she likes. And you’re welcome,” Mable said with venom, as if she was responsible for anything that transpired between the new couple. Hell, for all Theo knew, she was.

He was so confused.

Mable tied off the braid, a thick and intricate masterpiece, and tossed it over Dasia’s shoulder. When she turned, she looked younger, more innocent perhaps, than she had before, though, of course, it was only her hair that had changed.

The others continued chatting, laughing, and Theo kept drinking. With each drink, he marveled at how his senses continued to fade. Everything blurred together.

At one point, Osip stood tall and told them stories from the underground. “My mom would pretend to be a zombie. It was like this dead un-dead guy from the old vids. She’d hold her arms out and walk around the apartment,” Osip said as he began walking with stiff legs and arms out in front of him. “When she caught us, she’d pretend to eat our arms and scream, ‘You got caught by the Mommy Zombie! Now you must die!’ We’d laugh and squeal and try to get away, but she’d just tickle us until we couldn’t breathe.”