Always/Never

Chapter 31 / The Grand Master Plan That Goes Somewhere

Silence ticked between Parkland and me as I straightened my stance, ordering the other me out—he was only a diversion, and I could handle him.

He was hardly a problem. And maybe my grand master plan had problems, but what did I care?

The lights flashed Benedict's test blue while he stared me down, amusement in his narrowed, hawklike eyes. He stared at me, and Rory, and the two of us. And I could tell the connection had clicked in his head.

I ignored the part of me that wanted to be recognized as her. Reminded that version, that subsection of my subconscious, that I was.

"Huh." He laughed, sounding remarkably like the laptop fans did when they transmitted the sound. "One of you is not supposed to be here."

I nudged Rory, trying to prompt her to move. We didn't. Typical.

I wanted to tell him to screw off again. That whatever he was doing to Michaela, I would do to him ten times over. But I froze as the loud shatter of glass echoed through the halls.

"Don't you dare." My voice carried less venom than I'd expected. But they were such heroic words that I almost second-guessed them.

Let her go, and I'll... what? Bargain? Come on. I'm not that kind of person.

"Or what?"

Of course, he'd noticed.

Think, Rory.

"Don't." I stepped forward, fists raised.

Sure, I couldn't fight his technopathy. But I could punch.

The laboratory's scales let out high-pitched whines. Cameras in every corner followed me no matter where I stood, like arrows drawn taut by their quivers. There was too much technology in this place.

Rory whimpered. A pinch at the back of my neck, fragile at first. Then it grew stronger. And Parkland's grin became stamped in my vision like an advertisement, like malware.

"Or what?" he said again, but this time it filled the room with sound. With buzzing and annoyance.

It always seemed much cooler when it was me doing this. Now it struck me as overbearing. Okay, I get it. A lot of fanfare. But it's showmanship if none of it can kill me.

"Or I shove your head into this machine and launch you back to the Mesozoic Era, so you never see a phone again in your miserable existence."

He stared, without even the quirk of an eyebrow. Nothing. Steel cold. His next words came like he'd extracted it directly from my brain. "So it works now. Excellent."

I tried not to let my face betray me. But I knew by now that no version of me could pull that off, so whatever.

"What..." I pulled in a breath. "What does someone like you even need this for? You've got technology. So much information you don't know what to do with it."

"Ironic, coming from you," he said.

"Obviously." It was the only response. "At least I don't dream of grandeur."

"You had the grandeur enough to invent that." He stared beyond us to the machine. Like a target lining into a scope.

Something prickled down my neck, and I nudged Rory again. This time, she stumbled a few steps toward Parkland. Hesitated.

Across my vision, lights danced. Rory let out a tiny, indistinguishable protest before scrubbing her face. Both hands stretched out, swiped.

"Michaela," I said.