Unforgotten(114)

My eyes go wide with horror as I think about that spark. That magic electricity that passes between Kaelen and me every time we touch. That’s passing between us right now.

Alixter smiles down at me, appreciating my response. “That’s right. I created Kaelen to be your scientifically perfected match. Essentially the same blueprint we used to create you, we used to create Kaelen. Making a few crucial adjustments, of course.” He winks.

“I’m like you … Only better.”

“But at the very core,” he goes on, “you two are the same. You are literally soul mates. Created from the same source.”

He folds his hands in his lap, looking pleased with himself. “And judging by how fast you moved on from Zen to Kaelen, I’d say it was a success.”

I glare up at him. But Alixter is undaunted. “So you see, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to resist him. And he will never be able to resist you. It’s in your DNA.”

He sighs, like he’s just completed a hard day’s work. “I imagine we can have this fully tested and ready to go to market in less than a year. What a popular product that will be. Soul Mate in a Box!” He cocks his head, thinking. “The name might need some work.”

The guards snicker.

I’m furious. Fuming. Livid. Although I’m not sure why I should be surprised. I’ve been manipulated this whole time. So why should this be any different.

In a strange way, it is like my love for Zen.

I wasn’t given a choice in that either.

But I’m momentarily distracted from my anger when I feel Kaelen’s hands start to slip against my wrists. I can’t be sure, but I think his grasp is actually loosening.

Is it because he’s simply so shocked by this news that he’s losing focus? Or is it because he, too, feels angry for being manipulated? Could he possibly be remembering all the other truths I told him about Alixter? Or is he doing it on purpose? Offering me a chance to escape.

I decide it’s not worth waiting around to find out the reason, what matters is that I take advantage of the situation.

I eye the two vials in Alixter’s hands. About five feet away from me. Without giving myself much time to think or debate, I duck and roll to the ground, slipping right through Kaelen’s grasp. Then in a lightning-fast blur, before the guards have had even a second to react, I jump to my feet, land in a crouch, and snatch the doses from Alixter’s hand. In another streak of motion, I’ve arrived in the far corner of the living room, holding them both over my head, one in each hand, pinched between my fingers.

Kaelen, who has been suspiciously slow to react, takes a step toward me. The guards are also ready to pounce.

I squeeze the vials tighter. “Don’t,” I tell them all. “One squeeze and there will be no more antidote.” I look pointedly at Alixter. “For anyone.”

Alixter gives a nod to Kaelen and he backs off, retreating that one step he took.

“Now,” I say, my voice coming out nasal and stuffy due to my rapidly healing nose, “we’re going to do things my way.”

Alixter grits his teeth together. “What do you want, Sera?”

I sigh. It’s a good question. A question I haven’t yet figured out how to answer. What do I want? At one point, I thought that all I wanted was to escape with Zen. Leave this world behind and forget everything that happened inside the walls of this house.

But now that I’ve done that—and failed—I realize how impossible that is.

No matter how far we run, no matter how many years back we go, Alixter will never stop looking for me. He’ll never stop sending better, faster, stronger, more advanced agents to find me. And I’ll never be able to stop looking over my shoulder. I’ll never be able to fight the nightmares and fears that one wrong move will destroy everything.

How many more people have to die or become brain-dead or fall terminally ill for me? How many more people have to suffer so that I can live outside of this cage?

I thought that was the answer. I thought that running away, continually outmaneuvering them, was how I could prove that they didn’t own me. That I was not just one of their scientific miracles. That I was my own creation.

Me.

But I was wrong.

I feel Lulu, Jane’s doll, bulging in my pocket, reminding me of the words Jane said to me so many centuries ago.

“If she wasn’t real, then she wouldn’t have been able to run away from the bad people. That was a good choice.”

If that’s true, if humanity really is just our ability to choose, then this is finally the chance to prove mine.

This is the last thing I have to give.