Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,237

voice was only a memory. An echo of a long-ago time. But, like always, the simple, unadorned words were just what she needed to hear.

She drew in a long, deep breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Then again. And again. As she breathed deeply, she allowed her mind to drift back to the only place she could think to go.

The low-lit hallways and rugged walls. The smell of her father’s bread baking in the oven. The sound of Sister Muriel’s beads rattling through her fingers as she ate. The warm glow of the lights in Sister Laurel’s propagation room. Sister Jacqui’s kind smile. Principale Francine’s stern, but always steady gaze.

A safe place. A refuge.

Her heart began to slow.

Her fear evaporated.

She opened her eyes and peered upward. The red and blue lines had calmed to a low, even flutter on the panel above. And the small chamber had fallen silent.

Slowly and calmly, Alouette got back to her feet.

“Initial phase complete,” a pleasant voice rang out across the room, and Alouette let out a long, shuddering breath. “Commencing phase two.”

Suddenly, something protruded from the ceiling and clamped around Alouette’s neck and head, holding her in place. She yelped and her heart immediately started to race again.

The red and blue lights on the panel pulsated angrily in response.

Deep breaths, she reminded herself. Relax.

The clamp tightened around her head and a high-pitched whine reverberated into her ears.

“You are the bird,” she whispered soothingly. “A Little Lark drifting in the warm currents.”

And then she felt it. Quick and sharp and painful, puncturing the top of her head. She fought back a shriek as something burrowed into her skull. She longed to scream, to lunge with her hands and stop whatever was happening. But then, the panel in front of her flickered and changed. A strange honeycomb grid of light began to form and spread and connect. Like puzzle pieces coming together from all sides, creating a complex web of intersecting shapes that then proceeded to shrink and morph into something bigger. Something even more beautiful and elegant and twisting, like two entwined, dancing snakes. Alouette recognized the imagery from her studies. The panel was mapping out an intricate network of molecules.

The double helix of her very being.

“A modified gene that can only be found in certain cells of the brain,” she whispered aloud, remembering Brigitte’s words.

This horrifying device was analyzing her brain from the inside. A moment later, she felt the needle retract. The squealing sound abated—both inside the room and in her mind—and the clamps finally released her.

Alouette reached up and touched the sore spot on the top of her scalp. When she pulled her fingers away, they were dotted with blood.

Her blood.

Paresse blood.

From a direct descendant of the Patriarche.

Alouette knew this to be true even before the voice in the small chamber announced, “Match confirmed,” and the heavy PermaSteel door in front of her eased open.

- CHAPTER 73 - MARCELLUS

GENERAL BONNEFAÇON TURNED AROUND.

Marcellus took a step closer.

General Bonnefaçon’s gaze flicked to the weapon clutched in Marcellus’s hand.

Marcellus aimed.

General Bonnefaçon laughed.

It was a cruel, mirthless laugh that sent shivers down Marcellus’s spine and caused his finger to hesitate, ever so slightly, against the trigger.

“Put down the TéléCom,” Marcellus commanded, surprised to hear the steadiness in his voice. The noticeable lack of a tremor. “It’s over, Grand-père.”

The general peered back at the carnage on the Imperial Lawn below. “It’s not over, Marcellus. It’s not even close to being over.”

“Put it down now.”

The general’s grip around the device tightened.

“Put it down, or I’ll shoot.”

This made the general laugh again. “No, you won’t. You don’t have what it takes to shoot me. You never did. You were never a fighter, Marcellus. You were never the great strategist I tried so desperately to raise you to be.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Marcellus countered.

That seemed to amuse the general. He tilted his head, considering. “That is true. But unfortunately, you’ve already lost.”

Marcellus felt his temper flare at the words. He gritted his teeth. “No, I haven’t. You have.”

His grandfather clucked his tongue. “Don’t you see, Marcellus? You are all alone. There’s no one to help you now. You have no allies left. Your friends are gone. Your little hacker is back in the directeur’s custody. Your beloved Fret rat is somewhere down there probably getting torn limb from limb. And I already caught your blood whore.”

Marcellus flinched at the words. Blood whore? Was he talking about Alouette? Had she and Cerise really both been caught?

“She thought she