“I can’t be in the company of humans. They give off too much energy. My body draws that energy to me like a magnet, especially if they’re upset and throwing off a tremendous amount. If there’s bad weather, that just compounds the problem.” She shrugged, trying to look casual.
She realized Rubin wasn’t any less alert than his brother, or even any less threatening to her. Diego was protective of Rubin. Extremely protective in a way that raised a little warning flag in the back of her mind. She filed things away to take out later and examine. She always had. That was the way she had managed to collect information Whitney otherwise would never have given her.
Diego and Rubin were extremely close. They looked after each other, and clearly, they both were dangerous, lethal men, capable of taking care of themselves. She had no doubt that Rubin would protect Diego with his life. She had to go very carefully and figure out the dynamic between the brothers, because there was something here she didn’t understand. Diego was acting more defensive toward his brother than the circumstances warranted. Not with her confined to a chair in the center of the room and both men watching her like a hawk.
Rubin was patient, waiting her out. She was going to have to come up with more of an answer. “When I was growing up in Whitney’s compound, as I got older, into my teens, and it got harder and harder to control the electrical energy, I was put in complete isolation to study or work. I realized, after a while, that although I didn’t like being alone, it did allow me to maintain easier.”
Whitney had used a Faraday shield around her room to block the electromagnetic fields and keep her from pulling the energy from other girls or the guards. He’d also developed clothing, which she took with her and wore when she went into any public place, such as the conferences. The long, dark hoodie in particular was her best help. Having that, she could get as far from others as possible and make herself small. The electrical charges would find her, but very slowly because the mesh couldn’t cover every inch of her skin. But it gave her time.
“What kinds of things were triggering you when you were young?” Rubin asked.
That voice of his was mild. Not in the least interrogating. Almost as if they were sharing an intellectual conversation. A part of her hoped he was asking because if he had the answers, he might be able to figure out how to reverse the process.
“The training had become pretty brutal. Whitney wanted each of us to use the psychic abilities he had enhanced us with. We trained with weapons and in hand-to-hand combat as well as studied regularly as students. That wasn’t bad. We enjoyed that part. But once he would take us into what our handlers called field training, it got pretty brutal.”
Her heart began to beat too fast and there was no calming it down. She took a slow, deep breath, trying to cover it. These men were both enhanced with animal DNA. Essentially, they were predators, just like she was, and they could hear the heartbeat of prey. Her lips had gone dry as memories crowded in. She tried hard to slam the doors on those years when Whitney pitted each of them against teams of his supersoldiers. At times it was a couple of soldiers. Other times it was a full team. Always those times were life or death. You survived or you didn’t.
She knew she didn’t have it the worst. Some of the other girls were forced to practice their skills on one another, literally bringing another girl to the brink of death. Whitney was merciless. It was all in the name of science. They should be happy to die for their country. To kill for their country. They were patriots, weren’t they? He drilled it into them that they were worth nothing other than as experiments to be used over and over until they were used up.
She was a healer, and he had allowed her to study medicine. To go to medical school, or at least study within the compound, and that spared her quite a bit of the terrors some of the others endured. Certainly not all. And not his anger when she didn’t perform well in the field.
Jonquille fell silent. She didn’t owe them an explanation. She wasn’t about to tell them anything else. She’d given up too much already because she’d broken into their cabin, and it was justified that they thought she might be sent by Whitney, or as a distraction so Whitney’s team could sneak up on the cabin and capture or kill them.
“Have you tried controlling the way your body draws energy to you? Have you ever been able to keep it from happening?”
She shook her head. “No. The electricity begins to build up when I’m around others whether I like it or not. My core temperature rises. It begins to go all over the place. Hot and cold throughout my body. Feet cold. Head hot. My hair becomes static all over my body, and everything around me becomes that way as well. I try to stay out in the open and away from anything that can catch fire or be harmed. Over the years, I’ve gotten to know my limitations. That was how I was able to go to the lectures. I would stay a good distance from everyone, and if my body began to draw too much energy, I’d leave. When I was a little kid, it wasn’t bad, but the teenage years were pretty horrendous.”
“Are you ever burned?” Diego asked.
That surprised her. There was a hint of compassion in his voice. Just a touch.
“When I try to direct it, or shield anyone or anything. My fingertips are singed or blistered, but I’m immune to the temperatures, and they’re blistering, of course. I don’t really feel it, and my skin heals immediately.”
“Under what circumstances did you try to shield someone?” Rubin asked.
She remained silent, her gaze meeting his, telling him to go to hell with her eyes. She wasn’t about to answer that question. If he wanted to take out the gun he had concealed in his left boot and shoot her, she was all right with that. They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.
“Can you explain about when you tried to direct the blast?” Rubin asked. He didn’t seem in the least upset that she had chosen not to answer him.
“I told you, I can’t direct the blast. Whitney was determined to have a weapon. He was certain one could learn to direct a lightning bolt. I’m twenty-four years old. I was the youngest in the compound that I know of. So, he had that idea all those years ago. I don’t know if he was the one to really bring this idea to the military’s attention, but that’s a long time ago to begin work on what had to seem far-fetched to most people at that time. Who would ever think one could harness lightning and use it as a weapon? Or direct it away from populated areas?”
“What happened when you tried?” Rubin persisted.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. Whitney had set up targets at first and wanted her to hit them. She hadn’t been able to do what he wanted. Lightning wasn’t a precision weapon, at least not with her at the helm. He had gotten so angry with her that he scattered human beings throughout the field. Tall ones, wearing metal. Standing in water. Two of the girls were her friends, whom he was upset with because they hadn’t met his expectations. Each person was in jeopardy.
If Jonquille didn’t direct her strike exactly where it was supposed to go, and the lightning bolt behaved naturally, someone would die. She knew from experience that Whitney wouldn’t be satisfied with one death. He would be furious and demand she try again and, sometimes, again and again. He wouldn’t yell. He would look at her as if she were a great disappointment, and he would stand there until she did what he said. If she refused, he would direct one of his soldiers to shoot one of those in the field. Inevitably, the soldiers chose a girl.