Rachel Caine - Terminated

To my mom, Hazel Longstreet,

who instilled in me an early love of books and writing. This ones for you, Mom, with lovebecause youre a survivor.

This book wouldnt exist without the incredible patience of my editor, Anne Sowards, and the constant and awesome support of my assistant, Sarah Weiss. LOVE!

The real problem with becoming a monster, Bryn thought, was that you didnt know whom to trust.

Bryn Davis, monster, paced the floor in silence, surrounded by her friends and allies, and she didnt dare trust a single one of them. Not fully, not now. Only one of them knew the truth of what shed become . . . and even though Riley Block already shared the secret, and the curse, Bryn didnt know whether she could, or should, trust her.

As for the rest of them, they would be torn between horror and fury and pity, but someone would make it a mission to see her dead, and someone else would defend her, and it would tear everything, and everyone, apart.

Some secrets just had to be kept in utter silence.

Bryn? her lover, Patrick McCallister, said in the kind of voice one uses when the first few tries dont break through the haze. She stopped and looked up to focus on his face. Hes tired, she thought, and despite how conflicted she was about her own situation, she wanted to comfort him. She loved him. It came from someplace deep inside, a wellspring she couldnt block even when she tried. Bryn, did you get anything from the Pharmadene lab to tell us what they were working on in there?

She felt a wild urge to laugh, but it was the same self-destructive impulse one might feel standing on the edge of a cliff. Tell them, something mad in her whispered. Tell them, jump, just let it all go.

Because she certainly had something: proof. The problem was it was coursing through her veins, twisting her into something that was even further from human than shed been before. It was a far cry from being a dead woman, revived with a miracle nanotechnology drug and dependent on it for daily survival, to whatever she was now. Because her little life-mimicking machines had new programming.

Military programming.

Cant tell him that, she thought, and shook her head instead. Didnt have time to do much exploring, since they were trying extremely hard to kill us, she said. It looked like what I saw at the nursing homethey were using innocent people for nanotech incubators. Breeding more of the nanites. This was probably some kind of . . . factory farm. Not a lie, not quite. The nanotech was real, and they had been breeding it in the unconscious, drugged bodies. It was just the type of nanotech she was silent about.

Riley McCallister turned toward the FBI agent sitting silently with her back to the wall of the small room. Bryn had rescued Riley Block from a hospital bed in that terrible lab, and as different as the two of them were, as fundamentally antagonistic in many ways, they had this secret in common. Riley didnt look up, but then, there were people in the way. Too many people. It felt terribly, oppressively crowdedthis cheap motel room theyd rented as their temporary safe house was meant for a sweaty couple with no interest in anything save the bed.

Bryn felt constantly short of breath, on the verge of violence and screams. She wondered whether Riley felt the same.

Riley finally raised her head, and beneath the signature black bob, she seemed far away. Thinking, just as Bryn was, about her circumstances.

Patrick wasnt done trying to elicit information, and he pounced on the opportunity. Riley, did you get anything from the lab?

No, the woman said, which was an outright lie. No idea what they were doing, but Bryns probably got it right. I was unconscious most of the time. She lied beautifully, Bryn thought, with just the right amount of flat indifference and just the right amount of eye contact. How long do we have to stay here?

McCallister shot a glance toward his old friend Joe Fideli, who was stationed at the window, looking through the quarter-inch slit between the glass and the curtain without disturbing the fabric. Those two men, Bryn reflected, had never lost their Army Ranger alertness, even though theyd cashed out years backbut then, Joe made his living guarding people. Fideli shrugged. No way to know, he said. Were still good for now.

Meaning it appeared that their enemies hadnt traced them here. Yet. It had been a hell of an escape from Pharmadene, the government-run drug company, and the chaos had worked to their advantage, but that didnt mean that their enemies wouldnt be on the case and tracking them down. Oddly, that probably wasnt the government itselfonly a rogue body inside of it. So they werent totally screwed yet.

Then again . . . it was impossible to know, but Bryn suspected that the nanites coursing through her bodyVersion 2.0, these tiny life-supporting machineswere fully trackable if the Pharmadene team still had the tech online to do it. Riley had the same issue. Theyd done plenty of damage there, but had it been to the right equipment?

Despite the risk of discovery, she wasnt sure how much they dared tell her friends and allies . . . but she neednt have worried, because Manny Glickman, their burly mad-scientist-for-hire, was on it already. How in the world Patrick had first met the man was a mystery to Bryn, but one thing was certain: Manny had skills.

He also had a big backpack of stuff, and hed unzipped it and handed his girlfriend, Pansy Taylor, a syringe from its depths. Better safe than sorry, he said. Thats a frequency blocker for the nanites. Bryn, you and Riley had better take it. Im not sure they can lock on you anymore, but Id rather assume they were smart and we are smarter.

Of all the people Bryn didnt want knowing about her involuntary nanite upgrade, Manny was at the top of the list. Manny was brilliant, but he was also paranoid as hell, and although she wasnt sure he could kill her by himself, hed damn well try, and hed have something hidden in that bag that would be a nasty, premeditated surprise. Manny didnt like being at anyones mercy and he didnt trust anyone, except possibly Pansy and Patrick McCallister.

Pansy herself was a bit of a puzzle, because she seemed so . . . damn normal. Forthright, sweet, and yet fully capable of handling herself in a fight if necessary. She eased past Patrick and Joe, and stepped around Rileys outstretched legs to crouch next to the woman and give her an apologetic smile. Large-gauge needle, she said. Youll feel itsorry.

I wish that was the worst thing thats happened to me today, Riley said, and rolled up her sleeve. Pansy administered the shot into Rileys bicep, then safety-capped the needle and approached Bryn with the same needleno point in worrying about infection with the nanites on the job. Bryn took it without comment. It did sting, and then it burned, but as Riley had said, it wasnt the worst thing in her day. Not by a long shot.

Excuse me, but can we discuss our resources? That question, diffidently offered, came from the tall older man, Liam, standing near the bathroom . . . and Bryn realized she had no context for Liam now. Before today, shed known him as the urbane administrator/butler at Patricks family estatean Alfred to Patricks uncostumed Batman, in a way. But since shed seen him firing an automatic weapon while coming to her rescue, and looking as calm doing that as greeting guests at the front door, she wasnt sure she had any handle on him at all.

Go ahead, Liam, Patrick said. Lets get all the bad news out now.

I can get us funds from the black account, but theyll cut us off soon enough. I initiated transfers to dump cash into various offshore accounts before I joined you today. Theyll find some of it, of course, but not all. I estimate we may be able to count on a few million, no moreat least until this is resolved.