“They’re shells,” he said. “She keeps them here for an endless supply of blood, which is used in producing the antidote.”
When a shell was born and taken away, their families were told they were being killed as part of the infanticide laws. Years ago they had actually been kept in captivity—secluded dormitories where they were regarded as little more than useful prisoners. But one day those imprisoned shells had raised a riot and, unable to be controlled, managed to kill five thaumaturges and eight royal guards before they’d been subdued.
Since then they’d been considered both useful and dangerous, which had led to the decision to keep them in a permanent comatose state. They were no longer a threat and their blood could more easily be harvested for the platelets that were used for the letumosis antidote.
Few people knew the infanticide laws were fake and that their lost children were still alive, if barely.
Jacin had never been in this room before, though he’d known it existed. The reality was more appalling than he’d imagined. It occurred to him that if he’d succeeded in becoming a doctor and escaped his fate as a palace guard, he may have ended up in this same lab. Only, instead of healing people, he’d be using them.
Iko had gone back to the door. “I don’t hear anyone in the hallway.”
“Right. We should go.” Cinder brushed her fingertips over the tank of the young child, her eyes crinkled with sadness, but also—if Jacin knew anything about her—a touch of determination. He suspected she was already planning the moment when she would come back here, and see them all freed.
Sixty-Nine
The two people they’d heard in the hallway were nowhere to be seen. They soon found the door labeled DISEASE RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT, right where the diagram had told them it would be.
The lab was filled with designated stations—each one with a stool, a metal table, a series of organized vials and test tubes and petri dishes, a microscope, and a stand of drawers. Impeccably clean. The air tasted sterile and bleached. Holograph nodes hung on the walls, all turned off.
Two lab stations showed evidence of recent work—spotlights blaring on petri dishes and tools abandoned on the desks.
“Spread out,” said Cinder.
Iko took the cabinets on the far side of the room; Cinder started pawing through open shelving; Jacin started in on the nearest workstation, scanning the labeled drawers. In the top drawer he found an outdated portscreen, a label printer, a scanner, and a set of empty vials. The rest were full of syringes and petri dishes and microscope lenses, still in protective wrapping.
He moved on to the second station.
“Is this it?”
Jacin’s attention snapped to Iko, who was standing in front of a set of floor-to-ceiling cabinets with their doors thrown open, revealing row upon row and stack upon stack of small vials, each filled with a clear liquid.
Jacin joined her in front of the cabinets and lifted one vial from its tray. The label read EU1 PATHOGENIC BACTERIA—“LETUMOSIS” STRAIN B—POLYVALENT VACCINE. It was identical to the lid on the next vial, and the next.
Jacin’s gaze traveled over the hundreds of trays. “Let’s get a rolling cart from maintenance and fill it up with as many trays as we can. We probably won’t need all this for one sector, but I’d rather it be in our possession than Levana’s.”
“I’ll get the cart,” said Iko, rushing for the door.
Cinder ran a finger across a row of vials, listening to them clink in their trays. “This right here is half the reason Kai is going through with this,” she whispered, then clenched her jaw. “This could have saved Peony.”
“This is going to save Winter.” When he heard the cart in the hallway, Jacin started pulling trays off the shelves, and together they loaded the cart as high as they could, stacking tray upon tray of antidote. His pulse was racing. Every time he shut his eyes he could see her in that tank, clinging to survival. How long would the immersion protect her? How long did he have?
Iko had brought a heavy drop cloth from the maintenance closet too, and they draped it over the cart, tucking it around the edges of the trays to stabilize them for their journey.
They were pushing the cart toward the door when they heard the ding of the elevator. They froze. Jacin planted his hands across the covered vials to keep them from clinking.
“You don’t seem to understand the predicament we’re in,” said a sharp feminine voice. “We need those guards returned to active duty immediately. I don’t care if they’re fully healed or not.”
“Thaumaturge,” Cinder whispered. Her eyes were closed, her face tense with concentration. “And two … I’m going to guess, servants maybe? Or lab technicians? And one other. Really weak energy. Possibly a guard.”
“No offense taken,” Jacin muttered.
“These orders have come from the queen herself, and we have no time to waste,” continued the thaumaturge. “Stop making excuses and do your jobs.”
Not trusting his own body if there was a thaumaturge nearby, Jacin drew his gun and pushed it into Cinder’s hand.
She looked confused at first, but comprehension came fast. Her grip tightened.
Footsteps approached and Jacin wondered if the thaumaturge had already sensed them, frozen and waiting inside this laboratory. Maybe she thought they were just researchers.
That ruse would be up as soon as she saw them. If she walked past this lab. Or if she was coming to this lab.
But, no, a door opened down the hallway. He didn’t hear it shut again, and there were no other exits. To get to either the stairs or the elevator, they’d have to go back the way they’d come.
“Maybe we can wait it out?” suggested Iko. “They have to leave eventually.”
He scowled. Eventually wasn’t soon enough.
“I’ll take control of the guard and the other two,” said Cinder, knuckles whitening. “I’ll kill the thaumaturge, and wait until you’re all clear before I follow you.”
“You’ll raise a lot of alarms,” said Jacin.
Her gaze turned icy. “I’ve already raised a lot of alarms.”
“I’ll go,” said Iko. Her chin was up, her face resolute. “They can’t control me. I’ll draw them off and find a place to hide until you come back. You have to get this antidote to Her Highness.”
“Iko, no, we should stay together—”
Iko cupped Cinder’s face. Her fingers still weren’t functioning, so the touch looked awkward, like being petted by an oversize doll. “Like I said, I’d do anything to keep you safe. Besides, if anything happens to me, I know you can fix it.”
Iko winked, then marched bravely out into the hallway. Jacin shut the door after her.
They heard Iko’s measured footsteps beating down the hallway, then a pause.
“Oh, hello,” came her cheery voice, followed by the sound of a chair screeching across the floor. “Oops, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What are—” The thaumaturge’s voice cut out, then turned vile. “A shell?”
“Close,” said Iko. “In case you don’t recognize me, I happen to be good friends with Princess Selene. I’m willing to guess you’ve heard of—”