Flawed (5 page)

Aalexis knew the desk was meant to intimidate people by making the commander seem large and important. Such psychological games were lost on her and Xaver, though.

“Fräulein
Aalexis and
Herr
Xaver.”

The Commandant indicated with a wave of his hand for them to make themselves at home in the green-upholstered chairs. “Did you have an enjoyable flight?” he asked.

One of the lessons she and her siblings had been taught was to appear polite before the bite. The bite was coming soon enough, and she saw no reason to engage in such petty subhuman niceties.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He looked at Xaver. “And the car was to your liking?”

Xaver acknowledged his question with a curt nod.

Alexis studied the commander. His height was within the acceptable parameters of the average male, a hard face with wrinkles engraved on his forehead and around his mouth. His file indicated fifty-six, but he looked older than her father had at seventy. His silver hair was neat and parted to the right, and the uniform he wore was ironed and sharp, polished medals of honor hanging from his chest. Hard, steely blue eyes tried to hide uncertainty as he stood behind the desk. Anxiety radiated from the commander of the camp. He feared her, as well he should.

Nervousness was a sign of hesitation. Hesitation meant avoidance. Apparently, the commander didn’t have the information she sought.

“Hans,” Aalexis paused as the commander’s eyebrows shot up. Apparently, he was unused to being addressed by his first name and appeared to be contemplating a reprimand, but when her eyes narrowed, his courage seemed to dwindle. Better for her to establish her position over him.

“Let us put formalities aside for the time being,” she continued. “You know the reason why I am here.”

Surprised the girl had the gall to address him so informally, Hans’ gaze swept from Aalexis to Xaver. Void of any emotion, both sat in the green chairs, still as statues, backs rigidly straight, hands resting on knees, like a perfect young lady and gentleman. Aalexis’ full lips curled into a chilling smile after she addressed him, her German accent strong. Xaver’s lips mimicked the falsity.

They might look like regular teens in civilian clothing—him in a bright-colored sweater and jeans, she in a blue-and-white knit dress, his hair short, hers tied into a braid. Both were beautiful with flawless skin, his features chiseled and hers deceptively cherubic.

Danger lurked behind the fa
ç
ade. Knowledge and secrecy lay hidden within the depths of their appearance. Their eyes were as cold and hard as the last time they had visited.

Lifting his chin, Hans leaned back in his chair, his fingers folding across his chest. “I’m sorry to inform you, but as I stated during our last communication, there’s nothing new to report.” He was relieved the words sounded more confident than he felt.

For a brief second, the fire of anger flickered behind Aalexis’ blue eyes, then extinguished into smoldering ashes of disgust. “I see,” she responded. “It is unfortunate. I was under the impression your camp was efficient.”

Lifting his chin, Hans proudly stated, “My camp is the most feared.”

“Yet you have no information about where the Renegade, Ellyssa, is hiding.”

“It’s unfortunate, but I’m not surprised. It’s not unusual for the information to be kept secret. Many prisoners have died while under my command for their refusal to cooperate. Their loyalty to each other is unwavering.”

Aalexis stared at him, her gaze steady, as if trying to pry the information from his mind. Her blue eyes amazingly cooled even more, although her face showed no change in emotion.

A chill crept up Hans’ spine. His forehead pricked with perspiration, and he looked away, afraid she could see how much she unsettled him. Her eyes never left him, though. He could feel them on him. The same lump climbed back up his throat.

Hans couldn’t stand the effect the little girl and her brother had on him. He was a Commandant after all, efficient at his job, awarded medals for his loyalty and accomplishments. He’d be damned if a little girl and her lackey brother would make him feel as lowly as a roach in his camp, all while seated in his office. Somewhere, Hans mustered his fleeting courage and met Aalexis’ eyes again.

The young girl’s composure hadn’t changed at all. She still stared with the same cold in her eyes. Having had enough, he stood. The next thing he knew, Xaver towered over him—the boy had to be close to two hundred centimeters. Danger crept behind the anger in Xaver’s gaze, and a grim line tightened his lips.

Surprised at the speed with which the teen moved, Hans’ mouth dropped as he stepped back, his daring fleeing. In all his years as a soldier and as an officer, he’d never witnessed someone move so fast. The boy was nothing but a blur.

“I suggest you sit down,” Aalexis said, emotionlessly. “My brother is well trained in all disciplines of combat arts.” She dipped her chin and her eyes became snake-like slits. “As am I.”

Hans held no doubt she was telling the truth. The quickness with which her brother moved had completely caught him off-guard. For a fleeting moment, he thought about the gun in his top drawer, but quickly dismissed the idea. Based on the movement of the boy, he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He understood, now, what the Colonel had meant by the “next link.” Earlier, he had thought them the epitome of perfection. They were much more. It seemed The Center had achieved a training program beyond the information allotted to him. Without a word, Hans slowly sank back into his chair.

“I do understand,” Aalexis said in the same monotonous voice, as if nothing had transpired, “the Renegades’ ability to withstand much in order to protect their society. Perhaps I might have a word with them.” It wasn’t a question.

“The barracks are off-limits to…” He waivered, forcing composure. He had to maintain control. “…civilians. I don’t think that would be appropriate for you.”

Aalexis looked at Xaver, who was still standing. They exchanged words in German, most of which Hans was unable to hear; they spoke low and quick, but he was able to pull a few words out of context—
dispose, camp, Father
.

Finally, the young girl faced him. “Let me reiterate. I am
not
requesting.”

Suddenly, the commandant felt like chum in shark-infested waters.

As soon as the door opened, the stench of the male barracks wafted up Aalexis’ nose. Sweat, filth, too many un-bathed people living in close proximity.

Aalexis curled her nose at the creatures; their malnourished frames swallowed by striped pyjamas. They were disgusting and pitiful. Different shades of dark hair, red hair, improper blond, with faces marred with freckles and scars and eyes differing in color and shape. She’d never seen such a large conglomeration of imperfections. How could they stand themselves, knowing they could never measure up to society’s standards?

She glanced up at her brother. Xaver, too, stared at the subhumans. Although his face held no indication, she knew his revulsion matched her own.

The prisoners looked up in surprise as early-evening cold air whipped around the small fire in the one potbellied stove, threatening to extinguish the low flames. Then, like the little rats they were, they scurried away from their source of heat and formed a line in front of the bunks. They pulled their shoulders back and looked straight ahead.

With his chin held high and crop in hand, Commandant Baer strode in front of the rank of pathetic creatures. Except for the occasional cringe when the crop cracked against his gloved hand, the political criminals didn’t move.

“You have a visitor this evening.”

As Aalexis studied the prisoners standing at attention between their bunks, their gazes sliced toward Aalexis and Xaver with confusion. None looked for long.

She remembered the names Rein had called when he’d writhed on the floor from the furnace she’d created in his mind, but was unsure if any had survived the raid or what they looked like. Their emotions would give them away, though. Their inability to hide their weaknesses.

Pathetic creatures.

Stepping forward, Aalexis examined one prisoner, then the next. Each time one dared to meet her eyes, he’d quickly look away, like a submissive dog.

Her eyes stopped at one male with unkempt dark hair peppered with grey. He didn’t look away like the rest, but stared at her with fascination, as if he recognized her. His sand-brown eyes were wide, and his lips pursed together. When he noticed Aalexis watching him, he quickly averted his gaze.

Trying to ignore the odor, Aalexis went and stood directly in front of him. “Woody?”

Although he stared straight ahead, his mouth twinged, subtly, right around the corners.

“Jordan?”

A shadow crossed his face and a line formed over his nose.

There was only one name left. “Doc.”

His eyes flicked down and back up, and she watched his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed. He didn’t acknowledge her, though.

Within the next moment, the prisoner hung from Xaver’s grasp. The others next to the male flinched away.

“My sister requires an answer,” Xaver said with no nuance in his voice or face, as if a person wasn’t dangling from his fingertips at all.

Eyes bulging, he clutched pathetically at Xaver’s hands. “Yes,” he croaked.

“You know Ellyssa?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

As expected, the male named Doc attempted a nod.

Xaver released him.

“You will come with me,” she said, and walked away.

By the time the SUV slowed and turned, Ellyssa’s clothing stuck to her skin, her hair damp. Being stuck between Woody and Rein was unbearable; their bodies were like radiators. If Trista didn’t pull over soon, she was going to melt.

A few uncomfortable bounces down the road later, she received her wish. Muffled voices shouted.

Rein and Woody stiffened; their tension rolled into Ellyssa. Knowing she was at the mercy of strangers, she fought the instinct to kick out the cushion and escape.

The window hummed as it rolled down. Trista said, “Open up, would you?”

Rein relaxed, pulling her closer. “It’s someone she knows,” he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear. His words didn’t calm her instincts.

Indecipherable words were spoken. The SUV edged forward, then came to a stop. Heart thundering in Ellyssa’s ears, Trista opened the driver’s side door.

“Where have you been?” a muffled male, the tone familiar.

Trista didn’t answer. Instead, she grunted as she wiggled the cushion free.

Light spilled through, blurring Ellyssa’s sight. She flinched, blinked a few times and opened her eyes to Trista’s triumphant smile.

“I told you I’d find them,” she said, stepping back.

Two familiar faces poked their heads inside the car. Wearing overalls over a thick, blue sweater, Tim’s eyebrow-less eyes were the size of saucers, and Sarah, dressed in a long coat as yellow as the sunflowers Ellyssa remembered in her kitchen, nodded. Her youthful eyes sparkled, defying the wrinkles embedded around her mouth and eyes.

“Oh, my lord,” the older female said. “I can’t believe it. You were right, Trista. Here, you three, get out, get out.” She playfully hit Tim on the shoulder, waking him from his stupor. “Would you move?”

Tim blinked and shook his head, casting light reflections across his bald head. “Yeah, sure.” He stepped back. “I can’t believe it. You really did find them.”

“I told you.”

Grunting, Woody pulled himself over the side, landed on the floorboard and eased himself through the door, where he was instantly engulfed in Sarah’s thin arms. Laughing, Woody returned her embrace. Tim patted a greeting on his back.

As soon as Woody had moved, relief from the insufferable heat poured into the little compartment in the form of freezing temperatures. Ellyssa took in a deep, cool breath. She climbed out and stepped into the chilly air of the garage where Sarah and Tim had hidden them in coffin-like boxes. So much had happened since then; it seemed like ages ago. The garage was the same—boxes and containers stacked against the walls to transport goods and people, the same type that had transported her and Woody. The smoothness with which the Resistance operated still astounded Ellyssa, right under the nose of society.