There were too many people, and the one I needed to find was nowhere.

            “Ellie?”

            August’s voice crackled through the earpiece. I continued swimming through the throngs of people, keeping my head down, with no idea what I was doing. “I can’t do this, August. I’m not you. How do I find him?”

            “Think seclusion,” he replied after a moment. “You would think he’d be the pompous kind of asshole who likes to rub elbows, but he’s the exact opposite.”

            I narrowly avoided crashing into a lady with tall hair and an extremely poufy dress. She released a breathy cry and I moved right along, not chancing her eyes lingering too long on my face. “How do you know that?”

            “Reading people means living or dying in my life, El, you know that.”

            “Okay.” I stumbled free of the music and lights and laughter, and found myself creeping up a staircase. As silence overrode the thick din of the party, my nerves settled. “Hey, Augie?”

            “Yeah?”

            “I love you,” I said, lips curving in a loopy smile.

            His airy chuckle crackled the speakers. “I love you, too, sweetheart. Find your dad.”

            The staircase rounded up and up and up, and it felt like I’d climbed a mountain by the time I reached the next level. Again the lights were off, marking a no-go zone, which was, according to August, exactly where I needed to be. Portraits lined the halls, which were adorned with fancy carpets and other expensive antiques. Too much. My dream house was a small two-story by the sea, simple and homey, with all the necessities, and if I allowed myself to dream so far, filled with the love and laughter of children and family.

            Right, because you have such a loving family.

            I swallowed hard, ignoring those thoughts, because I did. You didn’t have to be blood to be family, as was proven to me over the last couple of years.

            A prickle crawled across my neck, morphing into a chill that raced down my spine. My gut twisted. Never good. But by the time I sensed him, and before I could dart into the closest room, a hand grabbed my upper arm and hauled me in there. I cried out, ankle turning in my heels as I was shoved inside. Immediately registering their inhibiting potential, I discarded them.

            “Ellie?” August spoke through the ear piece. “Ellie, what is it?”

            But I didn’t dare speak, not that I would have known what to say, anyway.

            Not when Dr. Edmund—sorry, my father—stood above me with an insidious smile on his face, hands folded behind his back, salt-and-pepper hair slicked diabolically away from his forehead.

            Oh, no.

            Oh, crap.

            Here’s the moment you were waiting for and you don’t even know what to do.

            But how could I? Here was my father—my father—who created me from unnatural fibers and was, more or less, in a sense, my womb. Lucille may have carried me, and she may have delivered me, but Dr. Edmund was my creator. He jacked me up on a plethora of drugs and substances and manipulated my formation even before I resembled a human being. So I wasn’t Lucille’s. I was his.

            “Ellie!”

            August was screaming, and in the unbearable silence, he could be heard in the room. Dr. Edmund’s eyes strayed to my ear. He walked forward, and my entire body locked up. He plucked the microphone off my dress, and the piece out of my ear, and dropped them to the floor. And then he crushed them under his dress shoe.

            “There,” he said. “Now we can talk alone. Father to daughter.”

            Father to daughter.

            I had finally met the last part of my family, and could unfailingly declare that I had to have one of the worst ones in the world. A satanic sister, a psychotic mother, a father playing God. I wasn’t even normal—for Pete’s sake, I enjoyed killing people—but compared to them, I was a saint.

            “That was August Masterson, right?” he continued, when it was clear I would not speak. “I bet he’s grown up tough, huh?”

            My hands curled into fists. “How do you know him?”

            “Please, darling. Everybody working for the government knows his family. He’s the last in a long line of Mastersons. Crazy, don’t you think? Let that one digest. He’s the last member.”

            “So?”

            Dr. Edmund shook his head. “So some crucial reproduction is in place . . . but that’s not what I hoped to talk about.”

            “Hoped?”

            His eyes caught mine, and I sucked in a deep breath, because they were mine. My eyes. All the way through and every bit. “Yes, Ellie. You didn’t think you happened upon me here by chance, did you? No, I wanted you here. There are no coincidences.”

            A set-up. You should have known. You should have known.

            He flicked a switch up, and soft light spilled throughout the room, illuminating a couple couches, a desk, a fireplace, and a wing-backed chair. Dr. Edmund strode to the fireplace, looking down into the ashes and flickering embers before lowering into the chair. I remained standing, wanting as much distance between us as possible.

            “Come see me, child,” he beckoned, and on the inside, because I was not outwardly capable of emotion, I laughed. Fat chance.

            Dr. Edmund raised an eyebrow, lips puckering in a dissatisfied expression. “Dear, are you not enthralled to see you father? Come on, Ellie. I created you. You are, every bit, mine.”

            Never. I am not yours. I will never be yours.

            “Why did you create me?” I whispered, body quaking. My father tilted his head.

            “You know why,” he said.

            “No.” I folded my arms over my chest, so he wouldn’t see my trembling hands. “The government wanted a weapon, but you—what was it you wanted?”

            He crossed his legs. “All this under the assumption I had an ulterior motive.”

            I blinked, pointedly not saying a thing.

            “Right. I should have known how bright you would be. You are mine, after all.” He thought about his next words, and if I closed my eyes, through the nearby window, I could hear the beginnings of conversation floating up from the terrace below.

            And none of them know. None of them know.

            “Superhuman.”

            That caught my attention. “What?”

            “Super. Human. Darling, think about all the things that statement entails.”

            I didn’t have to think; all I had to do was look in a mirror.

            “Advancement and abilities beyond human comprehension,” he continued. “Or, at least, average human comprehension. The truth is, Ellie, that as we are now, we can’t hope to send ourselves and our children and our children’s children into the next era. We can barely maintain what we have, now. How are we supposed to be innovative when we’ve reached our full capacity?”

            “I am not the answer,” I stated, voice low and controlled.

            “No?” his eyes raked up and down my frame, not examining a person; examining a specimen. “No, I suppose not. But you are close, darling. Every first try will have a few flaws, but that is the beauty of experimentation. You form a hypothesis, you test it, you evaluate, and you repeat.”

            “No—”

            “I have struggled these last few years, I’ll admit, but recently, I have made a breakthrough. No success comes without failure, after all.”

            He was standing, now, hands spread before him to emphasize the importance of his point, that sounded like nothing but delusional insanity in my ears. “Do you know what it’s like to live with my brain?” he questioned abruptly, eyes wide. “It is always working. It never stops. I hardly sleep. There is always something else, always something to test, always something to fix or ameliorate.” He approached me; was in front of me in a couple easy strides. His fingers touched my cheek, and though I flinched back, I didn’t move away. Because a part of me wanted to feel, just once, the touch of my father.

            And it was as cold and callous as I expected.

            “Oh, Ellie,” he breathed, gripping my chin. “You are beautiful, darling. Just beautiful. And you were always my favorite.”

            I swiped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

            The muscle above his eye twitched, just slightly, but I caught it. He dropped his hand, and I rolled his words through my head one more time.

            “You’re lying,” I muttered. “Lucille said—Angel, she—”

            Dr. Edmund barked out harsh laughter. “Lucille! That little, ignorant whore wouldn’t know a microscope from a petri dish. You, Ellie,” he said, gripping my shoulders with aggressive fingers, “you are my favorite. Angel is a mere shadow of my original creation. You were the only answer I needed.”

            I swallowed hard. “I don’t understand—”

            “Of course you don’t, because that maniac had her way with you.” He forced my head up; forced me to meet his eyes. “When you were gone, Angel was my guinea pig. She was all I had to work with, understand. I did what I could with what I had.”

            So Angel was played, too. Funny how that works out.

            “I shouldn’t exist,” I said. “Da—Dr. Edmund, I shouldn’t exist. I shouldn’t do what I can do. And what you’re planning for D.C. . . .”

            “You have no idea what I’m planning.”

            His sharp rebuttal cut me off.

            “You have no idea,” he reiterated. “Nobody does. And nobody will, either, until it’s too late.” He paused. Stared at me for a few beats. “But how could I keep anything from my favorite daughter?”

            “I know, Dr. Edmund. You plan to quarantine Washington and release your virus—thing through the water.”

            I expected alarm, but he only smiled. “Is that what you think? Is that what they told you?”

            I blanched. “What?”

            “Darling, the final steps of the solution aren’t yet finished. I require . . . subjects.”

            And then it registered. “No . . .”

            “D.C. will be just the beginning. Many will die, yes, but in the greater scheme of things, they will be remembered for such nobility.”

            “No . . . no.”

            “Yes. Ellie, I—” but an ear-splitting crash interrupted him, followed by a chorus of screaming partygoers, and my heartbeat doubled. Dr. Edmund moved briskly to the window, wrenched aside the curtain, and peered out. He smiled. “Well, I guess that’s my cue,” he muttered. “I can’t wait to see you again, Ellie.”

            “Wait,” I tried, but it was too late.

            He just left, because he could, and because he knew I wouldn’t follow.

            There was so much to digest, so much to think about . . .

            August. He’s probably worried sick about you. Find him and find out what’s going on and then focus on your father.

            I could do that.

            The moment I hit the staircase, the blood-curdling screams ripped relentlessly through me. The main floor was chaos, people running around, people on the ground. I forgot to collect my shoes, so I continued on in bare feet, and skidded through a puddle of blood. My stomach turned. My head swam. I needed to find August.

            “Hey, Grant! I see her! I see her!”

            Prophets, I thought, turning toward the threat, but I was wrong. One face I recognized instantly, from the silver corolla that chased us what seemed like forever ago. Grant the bounty hunter. He was as composed and calculated as ever. The other three with him, and the others wreaking havoc about the party, however, I didn’t know.

            “Crap,” I breathed, spinning in the opposite direction, but Eli the bounty hunter materialized, and the last clear thing I remembered was his wicked smile.

            “Hello again,” he greeted, and then the strangest tingling sensation erupted over my stomach. Over his shoulder, I finally caught sight of the one person I was trying to find, but his face, for some reason, was blurry and all distorted. And there was this annoying ringing in my ears. And he was shouting something, but I couldn’t hear what.

            Eli stepped away, calling to somebody behind me. I tried to take a step toward August, but immediately crumpled to the ground. Confused, I looked down, and everything made sense.

            There was a knife stuck in my stomach.

            And that was when the excruciating pain began.

***

Hey guys! I'm back! The Hungary trip was great, and it was such a great break! I had lots of fun and met lots of cool people and though I miss it, it's sure good to be back! My next goal: finish this gosh dang book!

<3 EJ