“As Wendy had killed our own kind, I will. There’s no other way.”
“I didn’t know that about Wendy. That she would kill her own, kill one of us. I hope you believe that.” She shook her head then, denying it. “Whatever it is, you know it’s not a cure, Misha. It’s a poison, to strip us of what we are.” She took a step back from me.
“No, it is a cure, but not for you or the others. It’s a cure for the human race. We’re not right. We’re twisted. We were made that way. We’re a malignant cancer and, as with any cancer, the cure
“And you won’t be you anymore. You’ll still be intelligent, that won’t change, but Ariel will die. Someone will take her place. Someone who doesn’t care what color her hair is or that she likes mermaids and short skirts or purple sandals. She’ll be a new person—not an interesting person; brilliant but not clever; alive but she won’t care particularly if she is or not. She won’t have hopes and dreams, and fun will be only a word to her. But she won’t kill again and that’s the best I can do. We’re not the next step in evolution. We’re a mutation created by a madman and brainwashed to be monsters. Monsters belong in those movies we watched, Ariel, not in the real world.”
That was when Ariel chose to take herself out of the world. She spun on one heel, spread her arms wide, and sailed over the low concrete wall. For a moment she seemed to hover in the air, a butterfly in color and light, too much a part of the air and sky itself to fall. But fall she did, with a graceful dive that would take her into the same thrashing crush of water that had swallowed Wendy.
It was beautiful, that incredible soaring flight and inevitable plunge, and I hadn’t taken a step to stop her. Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease, and more rarely the cure is worse than death itself. Ariel couldn’t be anything less than she was and she made her choice. But she took the virus canister with her. Metal, it would sink to the bottom of the river and the airborne virus would never see the light of day. Ariel’s last gesture wasn’t a gift to the world or to Cascade Falls; it was a gift to me.
She wanted to surprise me. I let her.
With that surprise, that gift, she redeemed herself—in my eyes at least, and my eyes were the only ones that counted.
“She took yoga and ballet,” I said, more to myself than Stefan or Saul. “If anyone could fly, she would be the one.” I didn’t go to look over the side. It made it easier to believe.
Fly away, bird. Fly away always.
Then there was work to be done.
Energy already recharging, I knelt beside the nearest chimera. He had fallen facedown when the tranquilizer dart had hit him. I rolled him over. Dark blond hair, light-skinned; it was Michael Three. It seemed somehow right a Michael would be my first. I laid my hand on his forehead. What I was doing was almost as complex as putting Stefan’s heart back together. The physical connection helped.
“What are you doing?” Stefan squatted beside me. “You just said there was no cure.”
“Not a genetic one, no.” The cartridges we’d shot the chimeras with hadn’t held a mixture of “cure” and tranquilizer—another lie. They’d been nothing but pure tranq, because there was nothing else to mix with it. “I’m basically destroying a good deal of their amygdala and a particular portion of their frontal cortex and hypothalamus.” I felt the cells die in Michael’s brain, leaving a lesion of darkness I could’ve seen if I’d closed my eyes. I moved to the next one—a Lily. She had brown hair and dark skin—Lily Four, then. “I’m giving them highly improved lobotomies or a variation of an amygdalotomy combined with other procedures. They should retain almost all of their emotions, except aggression.”
“Almost”—it was a word that encompassed more than a person could imagine.
“You said chimeras naturally blocked other chimeras from damaging them? And if that’s what you’re doing, won’t they heal?” He didn’t like this. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t like it either.
“All that practicing I told you about, all the healing I did on the animals and myself for almost three years every day, it increased what I can do tenfold. We weren’t taught to try to be more than what we were. I don’t think it crossed any of the researchers’ minds that we could actually increase a genetic trait by exercising it, but I did. I worked Jericho’s gene until I could make it do fucking backflips.” Lily went quicker than Michael and the third even faster. “If you can build something up, you can tear it down more easily and efficiently—even if it is a chimera.” It was a simple logic and I thought the only reason Jericho hadn’t thought of it was that healing others and building, not manipulating, wasn’t part of his mental wiring.
I looked at all the fallen chimeras around us. “They couldn’t stop Wendy and they can’t stop me now. They can’t heal what either of us does to them. They’re not strong enough.”
“There was no cure, was there? All along there never was.” Stefan stood, his hand resting on my shoulder.
This was my last omission from all that I’d told Stefan and Saul. I wasn’t going to say it was my last lie. I knew better now.
“I am the cure.” I raised my eyes to him. “There’s no way to turn off the gene Jericho gave us. It would fight off any attempted gene therapy, any bone marrow transplant. And I can’t stop the gene from functioning either, not without killing them. It’s an intrinsic part of our DNA, not an extra chromosome. Not something we can do without. I turn the gene off, I turn them off, permanently. This”—I rested my hand on the next forehead—“is the only answer.” That was one lie I hadn’t told. I had researched for a way, which was how I’d found Ariel. I’d had hope, but I was a child of Jericho and that meant reality and ruthless necessity always trumped hope. When I finally accepted the truth, I used the time to become what I was now. I found the cure inside of me, not in an outside world nowhere near ready to scientifically understand what we were, much less change that.
“Misha. . . .”
The sympathy in his voice was strong. He knew. I knew. It didn’t have to be said aloud. I’d pledged day in and day out that I wasn’t a killer, but I was a thief of souls. The twelve that remained here, they might as well have been the Four Horsemen, bringing death and despair to the world. They had to be stopped. But which is worse? To take who a person is, for good or bad, and erase his free will, or to kill him? If I’d asked them, every one of them would’ve chosen the same fate Ariel had. I didn’t give them that choice. I did what I thought was best. I played God . . . just as Jericho had.
But with him dead, someone had to.
“They can’t murder without aggression,” I said, “and they can’t have aggression if I destroy the part of the brain that births it.” It was the best I could do—a very poor best.
I rested my hand on the forehead of the last one—Peter. He’d played genius and villain well, while all the time Wendy had been pulling his strings and feeding him his lines. He was a killer too, same as the others, but he wasn’t what I thought he’d been. He was both predator and prey, because there was nothing in his mind now except silence. Wendy’s last act before falling away, besides killing the sniper who had shot her and his companions, had been to turn Peter off as if he were a toy she was done playing with. Only his brain stem worked now, keeping his lungs inflating and deflating, his heart beating, but the rest was dark and dead. He was brain dead. She’d made a true puppet of him, empty and hollow. It would’ve made her laugh, the irony, even with a bullet in her small chest. Peter was gone and I couldn’t fix that. The other chimeras wouldn’t be able to undo what I’d done and I couldn’t undo what Wendy had done. She and I were a new breed of chimera—with a new balance of power.
Ariel had been a chimera, able to survive a good deal, but the unquenchable hunger of water at the bottom of the dam? No. I had no hope there. Wendy, though . . . the Grim Reaper himself would be afraid to touch her long enough to take her life. Fine. If I saw her again, I’d do it for him.
Somehow.
Chapter 15
For the second time in his life Raynor was going to do some good. The first had been having one of his men shoot Wendy, because Raynor knew as well as anyone that Wendy wasn’t viable for sale,
