Archetype (25 page)

“Emma?”

I close the terminal’s window, my task complete, and face Foster. “Yeah?”

He looks over at my bags, which are still sitting outside the teleporter I intend to use for my escape. “Going somewhere?”

The sting of tears hits me and I blink them back. “I am leaving.”

“Did you talk to Noah yet? What did he say?”

I focus on my bags, praying he will not ask me to look at him. I do not want him to see the hurt I know I cannot hide. “We talked. Too much has happened to fix this.” I suck in a deep breath and face him. Attempt a smile. “It is okay, though. It is for the best.”

Foster shakes his head. “What are you talking about? You can’t leave, Emma. You have people here who love you. We’re your family.”

I tilt my head. “That is nice of you to say, but—”

He takes me by the arm and drags me into the empty corridor. “Stop it. You heard Travista yesterday. Same person, new body. What the hell happened with Noah? What did he say to you?”

I bite my lip, willing my tears to stay away. “This was my decision.”

Footsteps approach, drawing our attention. I hope it is not who I think it is.

“I have to go,” I say.

Foster bends to look me in the eye. “You’re always rushing off before thinking, Emma. Just this once, give it some thought.”

I shake my head. “I did. Believe me, I did.”

I cannot help but look toward the approaching steps, which come to a stop. I roll in the wave of emotion from Noah’s gaze. The crash of dueling emotions in his eyes is akin to the same ones battling it out within me. Stay. Go. Either way, I will die a slow, agonizing death.

I touch Foster’s arm briefly and smile. “Thanks for everything you did for me.”

Foster reaches out to stop me, but I am already too far away.

As I walk to the teleporter, I repeat the new port number in my head. My number to complete freedom. A new beginning.

“Emma!”

Noah’s voice is like bullets slamming into me, but I keep moving. I take up my bags and step into the teleporter. Only then do I turn and see Noah running through the milling crowd of people. Thankfully they are slowing his progress, and he knocks into them haphazardly, but only because he will not take his eyes off me.

“Wait, Emma, please,” he cries, desperate. He looks frightened of my leaving, but I cannot let that stop me.

The door slides between us and I key in the port number. I have just enough time to raise my hand in farewell before I freeze and the room melts away for the final time.

M
y mind wakes.

I blink.

White light glares overhead, blindingly bright.

Voices echo around the room—
No, we can’t save the body. Just put it in the other room for now. I’ll deal with it later.—
and I struggle to make sense of what they talk about. I should know what they’re talking about.

I blink. Try to make sense of my surroundings but can’t.

A hand pushes aside the sterile aluminum lamp over me. Familiar gray eyes watch me from between a green cap and surgical mask. The man leans straight-armed onto the table and stares at me. “Welcome back, Declan. You and I have a lot to talk about.”

First, I have to thank Tad, Jackson, and Jameson for letting me disappear more often than is acceptable, even though you tend to gravitate to my office doorway with chatter and jokes that I swear are a test on my patience. I love you guys in a way that can only be described as “unconditional and world consuming.”

CHARISSA WEAKS!! My support and encouragement from word one. Without your chapter-by-chapter nitpicking and gushy love, I wouldn’t be here. You are amazing. AMAZING! So glad I stalked your blog and Twitter feed like a crazy person on crack.

Tracy and Jodi, thanks for letting me sound-board and offering your support during those crazy weeks while I pieced Emma’s story together. Mom, Renae, Crystal, Meredith, Brandy R., Michelle, and Kerry—my cheerleaders before and after every crap-tastic novel I’ve written to date—thanks for sticking it out with me.

Dad, thanks for submerging me in science fiction growing up. I
really
wouldn’t be here without your complete obsession for everything out of this world.

Special hug-squishy thanks to Cathy Yardley for the title suggestion and submission coaching. Who the heck knows where I’d be right now without your help. Probably agentless and flailing, no doubt.

A freaking resounding thank-you to Jennifer Weltz—my agent’s got Jedi mind tricks like you wouldn’t believe!—for seeing Emma’s potential and taking a chance on me.

And bless you, Denise Roy, for making this novel bleed the way I like it. You and everyone over at Dutton are simply beyond (BEYOND!) amazing.

In 1864, E. P. Dutton & Co. bought the famous Old Corner Bookstore and its publishing division from Ticknor and Fields and began their storied publishing career. Mr. Edward Payson Dutton and his partner, Mr. Lemuel Ide, had started the company in Boston, Massachusetts, as a bookseller in 1852. Dutton expanded to New York City, and in 1869 opened both a bookstore and publishing house at 713 Broadway. In 2014, Dutton celebrates 150 years of publishing excellence. We have redesigned our longtime logotype to reflect the simple design of those earliest published books. For more information on the history of Dutton and its books and authors, please visit www.penguin.com/dutton.