Pretty Monster Page 3

  “Miss Harper,” Savannah said, “this is Reese, my eldest. Reese is responsible for most of the lawmaking, as well as law enforcement, on the island.”

  Reese chuckled, reaching out to offer a hand to Quinn. She hesitated, but shook back, adding a light electric zap just to see how he would react. He seemed amused.

  “She says ‘enforcement’ as if we’ve had a single issue in the eight years this place has been around,” he joked. “Don’t worry, Quinn. We all get along around here.”

  “Reese will show you around when our meeting is finished,” Savannah told Quinn. “But for now, let’s go into my office. We have things to discuss.”

  Quinn followed Savannah into her office, which was nearly the size of the entire lobby. It was a beautiful office, filled with rich mahoganies and thick marble. It was the office of someone important—someone in charge.

  “You can think of me as the president of Siloh,” Savannah explained.

  “Siloh?”

  “That’s our name for this little home of ours. Or did you really think we call it Devil’s Island?”

  Quinn said nothing. It certainly didn’t look like a place called Devil’s Island. But why the cover-up?

  “Humanity sleeps better,” Savannah explained, as if reading her mind, “thinking that people like you are locked away, tortured, confined to cells and darkness and isolation. It comforts them. The worst of them, anyway. Which are often the ones in power.”

  Quinn couldn’t disagree with her there. But it only led her to the same thought she had before—the man whose name alone made her want to send everything around her up in flames. “Crowley.”

  “Yes, yes—quite possibly the worst of the lot. I know that, Quinn. We all know that. Believe me, no one here is a fan of Cole Crowley. But he has power, and he has influence. As I’m sure you’ve started to realize.”

  “Does he know? What this place really is?”

  “No, my dear. No one knows.”

  Quinn couldn’t always sense when someone was lying, but she could tell that Savannah was. “I doubt that. What about Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum on the helicopter with me? What about pilots who fly over this area? Satellite imaging? The fine-toothed comb both the DCA and UNCODA keep on the entire deviant community?”

  “I suppose you’re right; I misspoke. The UNCODA—it’s easy to keep them in the dark. This island is American property and falls under its legal and governmental jurisdiction. But you are right—everyone involved in the DCA knows that it isn’t truly a prison. Still, it has a wall, and it has security. And an escape rate of zero. That’s all they care about. They don’t know about the school. They don’t know about the jobs. They just think it’s a place of isolation—a place to hide you all. They don’t understand the extent we go to in order to keep everyone here happy.”

  Quinn still didn’t buy it. They had to know more than that. No one with a healthy dose of fear would knowingly turn a blind eye when it came to the world’s most powerful threat—especially not so soon after the resistance. And Crowley? Why would he dedicate so much time and attention to their collection, and so little to the conditions of their imprisonment?

  But she knew better than to argue with the alleged ‘president’ of her new homeland quite so quickly. “So, you’re not his friend,” she said carefully. “You had nothing to do with Kurt.”

  “Friend?” Savannah laughed. “My dear, I live on an island full of deviants. Two of them are my own sons. I’m not friends with anyone back in the real world, especially not someone whose job it is to rid the world of anything to do with your kind. As far as he is concerned, I’m just another deviant, brought here with my sons many years ago. Just another prisoner.”

  Again, highly doubtful, Quinn thought. If Crowley thought Savannah was just a prisoner, but understood that everyone on the island was adhering to some sort of limited freedom arrangement, who did he think was in charge? Who did he communicate with?

  She decided that all that really mattered to her was whether or not Savannah had been involved in Kurt’s death. If she was twisted, if she was corrupt, fine. But if she had had anything to do with Kurt, even mere knowledge of the plan…

  Quinn would kill her with her bare hands.

  “And Kurt?” she asked, eyes rooted to Savannah’s, searching for any sign of recognition or admittance. Just saying his name out loud sent Quinn’s mind into a frenzy of rage all over again. She breathed slowly, knowing better than to start another elemental disaster in the middle of the town hall.

  “I don’t know who Kurt is, but I can see in your eyes how much he meant to you. If I know Mr. Crowley, I know that he took him away from you. I’m sorry for that, Quinn. I am. I don’t have the power to fight someone like him—none of us do. The best we can do is protect ourselves, out here—far away from him.”

  Quinn hated that. She hated the thought of all the people he had wronged hiding out in fear. But she was beginning to understand it.

  She decided that she believed Savannah—not her whole story, but that she knew nothing about Kurt.

  “Enough about that wretched man,” Savannah said. “I’ve brought you here to tell you about your new home—what we offer you, and what we expect of you in return.”

  Of course. The catch.

  “First of all, you are required to go to school. I know you’re eighteen. I’m sure you think you’re too old for school. I don’t care. You’ll be in school until your teachers feel you’ve gotten the proper level of education you deserve.”

  “You must be joking. I haven’t set foot in a school in years. There’s no way I’m going to now.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not up for discussion. You having not been to school is exactly why I must insist. We are a self-sustaining society, Quinn. Everyone here must learn so that everyone here can support each other. When your teachers clear you, you are free to leave school. All but power practice, of course.”

  “Power practice?”

  “Technically, it’s called power stabilization. That’s my other son’s job. He works with many of the residents, particularly the ones your age. Helps them gain control over the ties between their emotions and their abilities.”

  A class where she was encouraged to use her abilities, after a lifetime of hiding them? That class, Quinn wouldn’t mind attending.

  “Until you’ve been cleared by your teachers,” Savannah continued, “you will be receiving a monthly stipend of money. Consider it your allowance. Once you leave school, you will be expected to get a job and work for a living, like the other adults here. If you cannot find a job, we will place you in a security position similar to your new friend Ridley’s.”

  Quinn found it bitterly unsurprising that Ridley had a hard time finding a job. Apparently prejudice even existed on an island full of deviants.

  And how did Savannah already know that Quinn and Ridley had gotten along?

  ‘Gotten along’ was a generous term, she supposed—but she hadn’t hated him like she hated just about everyone else.

  “As far as living and dining goes,” Savannah said, “until you are cleared, you will live in the dormitories. You will have a roommate.” She ignored Quinn’s instant groan. “And you will eat in the community cafe.”

  Community cafe? This place was starting to sound more and more like a cult to Quinn.

  “As far as what’s expected of you, and what you need to know, that’s about it. Follow the rules, and you won’t have a problem. But there is one thing I must ask you, and I must insist that you answer it honestly.”

  Quinn shrugged a shoulder. She had no reason to lie to this woman, that she could think of. Not yet.

  “We have deviants of many types here. Monsters. Makers. Pretty monsters, as the media was so fond of calling you. What we don’t have, though, to the best of our knowledge, is a seer.”

  Quinn watched Savannah, not blinking, not wavering. But her breathing slowed.

  “If you’re not sure what a seer is,” Savannah said, “it is
someone who was affected with psychic abilities.”

  “Like how I can make people do what I want?” Quinn asked, deciding to play dumb for now. She knew what Savannah wanted; she had known the moment she said the word. Savannah wanted a fortune teller.

  And even though Savannah said she wasn’t friends with Crowley, even though she said she spent her time on the island and not in the outside world, Quinn wasn’t quick to trust anyone, least of all this woman. She knew how valuable fortune telling was to just about everyone, all around the world.

  “No, my dear. That is a nice parlor trick, but that is not what I mean. I mean the ability to see the future.”

  Quinn tried her best not to let her laugh sound forced; it wasn’t easy when the last time she had laughed was with Kurt. Her eyes burned at the memory. “Are you suggesting there’s someone out there who can?”

  “Miss Harper, we live in a world full of superpowers. You’re a smart enough girl. Is it really so hard to imagine?”

  “I’m sorry,” Quinn said, ready to be anywhere but there. “I guess I’m just a little surprised you thought I might even be capable. I mean, sure, the media likes to talk me up, but—”

  “That’s enough,” Savannah said sharply, and for the first time in their entire meeting, Quinn actually felt threatened by her. Savannah was clearly angry, and Quinn had a feeling this wasn’t someone she should piss off.

  “I understand what you are telling me,” Savannah said. “I would like you to understand that if I find out that for any reason you have lied to me, or that you in the coming weeks or months experience a premonition and do not report it to me, I will make your experience here at Siloh very different than the one I have just described to you. Very different indeed.”

  Quinn’s reflex for sarcastic comments tried to kick in, but for the first time in a long time, she knew better than to utter a word.

  “Are we clear?” Savannah asked.

  Quinn forced a shaky, hateful smile. “Clear as a crystal ball.”

  “Very well. You can go.”

  Quinn rose, starting to make her way to the door, but stopped when she heard Savannah’s final words.

  “This isn’t Devil’s Island, Miss Harper. But it could be.”

  3. DASH AND REESE

  Quinn couldn’t leave Savannah’s office fast enough. The woman was bad news, she told herself as she stepped back into the lobby. Clearly lying; clearly delusional. She must be in direct contact with the mainland; that was the only explanation for her desperation to find a seer. She worked for Crowley. She worked for someone worse than Crowley. That, or…

  Or she was worried about her own fate on the island.

  Quinn shook her thoughts away and bee-lined for the door, not really even sure where she was headed, only stopping when a voice reminded her that she wasn’t the only one in the lobby.

  “I’m still open to showing you around,” Reese told her, rising from his desk. “Unless she scared you so much you’re already contemplating your first jailbreak.”

  She laughed in spite of herself, appreciating any semblance of humor regarding Savannah. Then again, she had to remind herself, the woman was his mother. If Quinn didn’t trust Savannah, she probably shouldn’t trust Reese, either.

  “Jailbreak,” Quinn repeated. “From this place that people keep trying to assure me isn’t jail?”

  “It was a figure of speech. Look, if there’s any advice I can give you, let it be to ignore my mother. You’ll interact with her maybe once a year from here on out, if that.”

  A part of her wanted to say more—ask him a question or two about his mother—how he could possibly be related to someone who looked and acted so different from him. He seemed so much warmer, so much more familiar than she did. Quinn almost liked him instinctively, just as she had with Ridley… something that didn’t happen often.

  But she didn’t dare say more so close to his mother’s office, so instead she said, “Lovely as this little White House is, I’d like to get the hell out of here. What exactly were you planning on showing me?”

  He grinned, gesturing for her to follow as he made his way outside. “There’s lots for me to show you, but something tells me the first thing we need to do is get some food in you.”

  She hadn’t thought about it since waking up on the helicopter, but his words made her realize how famished she was. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Judging from the tropical temperatures and vast ocean surrounding them, she could only guess her helicopter ride had followed an extensive plane ride.

  But then she remembered the last time she had eaten—Big John’s Pizza, Kurt’s favorite spot in all of New Jersey. It had been a staple in their relationship for some time—she ordered the pizza, Kurt picked it up, they chowed down with his father in his cozy little trailer, all laughter and warmth. But not that night—the night before Crowley’s. Kurt’s father had been out at his new night job, working road construction, and Kurt had been quiet the whole time. Afraid.

  She hated remembering him that way. She hated what she had done to him.

  Nausea and self-loathing replaced her hunger.

  “Quinn?” Reese asked, stopping and turning to face her. He seemed to sense that she had gone to a very different place. “Are you okay?”

  Was she okay? What a ridiculous question. She wanted to hate him for even thinking he could ask her that. But for some reason, she didn’t. For some reason, she found it strangely comforting.

  “No. And I’m not hungry. But I should eat. So, as long as you’re not going to tell me the community slaughters its pigs and cooks them by a campfire holding hands and singing kum-ba-yah, let’s go.”

  Reese laughed out loud. “I know certain things about this place can make it seem like some sort of cult or freak show, but it really is as close to the real world as a place like this can be. It was modeled after New York—upstate, outside of the city, of course—since that’s where most of its inhabitants came from.”

  Quinn hadn’t spent much time in New York, despite the landmarks in her life that had occurred there, but she found it hard to believe that this place had much in common with it.

  They began to walk again, deeper into the island, away from the fountain and the gates and toward what seemed to be the center of the island. She wondered whether he would go full tour mode and point things out as they walked, but he didn’t, and she appreciated that. If she was really going to live on this island for the rest of her life, she’d have plenty of time to figure all of that out. She had other questions that she wanted answered, and while she still didn’t feel particularly social, she’d rather ask someone like him than someone like Savannah.

  “You talk about the island’s history and origins like you had a hand in their creation,” she told him. “But how old could you have been when this place came to be? Eleven? Twelve?”

  “I’m flattered, but I was nineteen when my mother, brother, and I came to the island. Eight years ago—two years after the event. And I didn’t have much of a hand in any of this, to be honest. My little brother had more of a hand, and he was only seventeen at the time. But Savannah always trusted him so much, even then. I was more of the black sheep.”

  “How did you get this law enforcement gig, then? If you were such a black sheep?”

  “After a few years, she decided she could trust me. It took time for all of us to get into the groove. All the island had when we got here was the wall. As the residents began to trickle in, they each brought something new to the table. Money, experience, abilities… Different things. The more of them there were, the more need there was for things like law enforcement and power stabilization.”

  “And school,” she added, voice dripping with disdain at the very word.

  He laughed. “And school. Look, I know you’re not thrilled at the prospect of going—no one is at first. But you’ll be thankful one day. That’s what’s great about this place—despite all its bullshit, all its attempts to be something it’s not—there are things
it can give people like us that we never would have gotten otherwise. Education is one of the biggest.”

  She knew he was right. She couldn’t count the number of times growing up she had wanted to set foot into schools, just to try, just to see if anyone would kick her out. Not for the education, but for the experience. For being with other kids her own age.

  That was years ago, of course. She had long since said goodbye to that kind of wishful thinking.

  “Anyway,” he said, gesturing to a large, one-story building labeled Community Café, “we’re here.”

  Her nausea seeped away as the smell of food overtook her.

  Despite its casual ‘café’ title, it seemed to be the dining hall for the entire island; there were easily two hundred seats in the room, if not more, about half of which were currently occupied. Naturally, the moment she and Reese stepped in, all eyes turned to her and all conversation silenced.

  Reese, clearly trying to make the situation lighter, whispered to her, “This how it always is for you?”

  It wasn’t his fault, but his joke wasn’t funny. It wasn’t funny because it was how it always was for her, and yet, in every other circumstance she had been in, a hundred eyes on her meant she had to either run or fight. She wasn’t going to forget that feeling any time soon.

  She stepped up to the counter without answering him.

  She scanned the menu, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the poor attendant who seemed completely star-struck. Quinn had never been great at reading; it was probably some combination of dyslexia and a lack of formal education. But she could make out her options: chicken, steak, salad, pasta.

  “I’ll have the steak,” she said shortly to the attendant. She glanced back at Reese, not sure whether she’d be expected to pay or not. But when she turned, she caught sight of something else—someone else.

  Someone she had spent the last ten years convincing herself was a figment of her imagination.