She Who Sees Through Darkness

Part Eleven

A private jet awaited them at a local airfield. The logo on the side read 'Synthos Biotek'. That's their cover. Borghild stepped into the cockpit and joined the co-pilot. Dr. Harper buried her face in a three-dollar romance novel. Kyle grabbed a drink from the bar and settled down comfortably in his chair.

Katrina's skin crawled as she watched him, fierce with envy. She needed that oblivion—deserved it, even—but she was on a mission, and a loose tongue could spell her doom. I should ask him not to do that. But the thought of asking galled her. Besides, they're about to fix me. I won't need to worry anymore after that. Maybe.

Her fists tightened. She dug her nails into her palms, willing her thoughts to go anywhere but the bar. Fix. It sounded like what you did to a cat that wouldn't stop peeing on your walls. She wondered how the cat felt, afterwards.

The old, hidden scars on her thighs suddenly burned again. If Dr. Harper been a halfway-decent manipulator, she would have sworn the experiment could restore Katrina's powers. The mistake told her Dr. Harper had been honest. She wants to make enhanced soldiers. She admits she could fail, and I'd pay the price. She pictured her body shriveling, infested with cancers, scarred with radiation burns. Enough.

She walked over to the plane's kitchenette, rooted through the drawers, and found a long knife. Standing over the trashcan, she dragged the blade through her hair. Strands tore, ripping painfully. She braced herself and sawed back and forth until a six inch long chunk came off in her hands. She dropped the fine black strands in the trash. It's just your body. You were okay with destroying it last night. You're doing this for Indigo. It's worth it.

"Whoa." Kyle sat straight up in his seat when she re-entered the cabin. "Katrina?"

"I felt like a change." She'd chopped off every hunk she could reach. The cool air felt alien on the back of her neck.

Katrina tucked herself into her seat and tried to sleep. Her thoughts kept creeping back to Senator Winters. I'm sorry I got your son into this; I know I promised to look after him. But he can't be my first priority now. You'd understand. You'd do anything for your country. You're strong.

The plane touched down in Seattle to refuel. No one but Borghild left the plane. Kyle gave her a letter to post to his mother, explaining where he'd gone. Katrina knew the valkyrie would trash it. How had Kyle's life been so privileged that he couldn't fathom someone taking advantage of him?

She sat down next to him and watched the baggage handlers zip back and forth across the runway. They'll never know what really happened here. Ensuring that was her responsibility. Keep them ignorant, keep them safe.

Kyle took her hand and squeezed it. "I'm really glad you're here with me," he whispered. "This'll be good for both of us. You'll see."

"Good for us." She tried not to imagine a thousand needles stuck in her skin, injecting her with a bubbling green cocktail. Focus on what happens after that. She would walk into Indigo's headquarters in D.C., her position secured, and watch the respect ignite in everyone's eyes. We were wrong not to use her talents. That's the one, the one who never gave up, the one who took on a Valve.

When he walked off to the bathroom, Katrina sat down next to Dr. Harper. She'd finished two novels and moved onto a third. A muscled male torso adorned the cover.

"How'd you get interested in—" she dropped her voice. "—magical genetics?"

"I'm reading."

"Sorry," Katrina said. "Just curious. It's not often I run into someone I can talk to about this stuff." She realized how very true that was. She had Shawn and her family, but New York's other agents knew about her disgrace, and most of the other Descendants she'd known fell firmly in the category of criminal. "Especially not a woman without powers. We have a lot in common."

"I'm a good person. You aren't," Dr. Harper said, turning a page. "The suspense is killing me, Ms. Harris. Will Chad's giant penis heal Penelope's inability to orgasm? Excuse me, I can't pay you any attention. I must focus all my resources on unraveling this text. Please. Leave me."

Katrina slid back into her seat. Moralizing terrorists. Worse than Shawn's stories from Afghanistan. What the hell did I do to her in Boston? A thousand worries spun around her head, and she yearned to make them go away. Her eyes flickered to the plane's bar, but then the seatbelt light flipped on. She belted herself in and gritted her teeth. It's your life if you talk!

"It's a four hour flight from Seattle to Anchorage," Kyle told her, and lowered his sleep mask.

Darkness wrapped around the plane, leaving her with no clue where in the world they were. The plane had television screens built into the backs of the chairs. She found a DVD copy of Die Hard in the cabinet marked 'Entertainment' and settled down to watch.

Hans Grueber reminded her of Dr. Harper. Tell people a story they can understand, that terrorists are taking hostages, that the government is building a living biological weapon, and they'll proceed accordingly. You can pull off the crime of the century under their noses. Annoyingly, it reminded her of one of Indigo's first lessons: the lies you could give to explain magic, small ways to avoid needing to kill a target who'd seen something they shouldn't. People need explanations. Hallucinations, drugs, government project. No matter how outlandish the lie, they'll believe. Anything's better than facing the unknown. That way lies chaos.

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