Shards of Hope

Chapter 42

BEATRICE FOLLOWED HER trainer down an alley that exited behind a human nightclub pulsating with noise far beyond the efficacy of the flimsy soundproofing. Sweat trickled down her spine and her pulse thudded, but she was determined not to make a mistake during her first live mission; she’d prove to Blake that he’d been right to take her as his partner.

“You remember the mission parameters?”

“Yes, sir.” They were to incapacitate and acquire a specified human female. Brown haired and blue eyed, the female was twenty-three years of age. When Beatrice had dared ask why they were targeting a young human, Blake had answered her in an unexpected sign of respect.

“She’s the child of a Human Alliance scientist who is in the process of developing a serum meant to neutralize Psy abilities. The Ruling Coalition has requested we interrogate her as she knows the pass codes of her father’s highly secured systems. It’ll allow us to download then erase all data before disposing of the male in what will appear to be a simple vehicular accident.”

Beatrice had assumed the target must be very smart to have memorized all the codes, but as she saw the female stumble out of the club in high heels, a cigarette hanging from her fingers, she couldn’t see any sign of that intellect. Not only were those shoes impractical to run in, the target, who apparently worked at the club, had a nightly habit of smoking at this time and this place, alone.

There was no light back here, no security cameras, no other traffic. The girl had to realize the data she had in her head made her a target. Why would she then not carry a weapon at least? Perhaps it had to do with intrafamily rebellion—Beatrice had been taught about that in her psych classes. Humans sometimes rebelled against their parents. It was a weakness that could be exploited both subtly and more directly.

Tonight, it was clearly to be the latter.

When she glanced at Blake, he gave a small nod.

The mission was a go.

Inhaling quietly, Beatrice stepped around the corner and toward the target. She’d dressed in civilian clothing for this mission, her dress as short and as sparkly as the girl’s skirt. Beatrice liked the dress. It wasn’t an Arrow thing to think, but she’d never had anything so pretty.

Her feet, of course, were in combat boots. An acceptable style choice, according to her research. That was good, because Beatrice wasn’t sure she could’ve walked in high heels.

Catching sight of her, the target frowned. “Where’d you come from?”

“My boyfriend ditched me,” Beatrice said, reciting the script she’d been given and mimicking the tone and intonation she’d seen in a movie clip; she’d found that clip herself, studied it in preparation for the mission. “Creep. He’s screwing some girl in our car.”

“Ugh.” The target wasn’t the least suspicious as Beatrice drew closer. “You want a cigare—” Her words ended in a choking sound, her eyes stunned as Beatrice incapacitated her with a single slamming hit to the throat with the side of her hand. Blake had made it clear no weapons or psychic abilities were to be used, this mission part of her equivalency exam in weaponless action.

Catching the target’s heavier body as she fell, Beatrice pinched a nerve in her neck to ensure total unconsciousness. That done, she looked up, hopeful.

Coming out of the shadows, Blake said, “A near-perfect takedown.” He lifted the target and threw her over his shoulder.

It was easy to move her without being seen. Blake had parked their vehicle in the deserted and overgrown lot next door, and they’d used a preexisting hole in the chain-link fence to get to this side. Three minutes after Beatrice had first seen the target, she was in the trunk of their vehicle as they drove to the interrogation center.