Switch (2 page)

“Emily and Charlotte Hatcher,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “Wife and youngest daughter of a Douglas Hatcher.” He stopped just in front of them, his boots close to their faces, the same ones all the rest wore. “There is also an older daughter, no? Bridgette Hatcher, also currently missing.” Charlotte heard him crouch down. “You’re missing half your family, Mrs. Hatcher. Care to tell me where I might find them?”

“I don’t know,” her mother maintained. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Am I to assume your opposition is because of your rebel affiliation?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her mother answered. Lie. Charlotte cringed, hearing the falsehood of that statement loud and clear.

He chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t.” He stood up again. “Perhaps the daughter knows.”

“I don’t,” Charlotte said.

There was a pause before Roman spoke. “Pardon me?”

“I don’t know where he is,” she said again. Although she wished she did. Perhaps she’d have no problem telling these men where to find Douglas Hatcher. Why have a sense of loyalty to a man who had practically forgotten about her for the last decade of her life? He was cold and apparently working toward a goal that was idiotic at best. Charlotte looked up for the first time, her breath catching in her lungs. Dark eyes looked down at her curiously from a young, handsome face. Long, dark hair hung loose and damp around his face to just below his shoulders. He was huge, broad shoulders making the uniform look even more intimidating than usual. His eyes narrowed at her. She looked down again, sensing for the first time her mother’s renewed distress. Charlotte just started to turn toward her when she cried out.

“Wait,” her mother said, her voice panicked. A loud shot pulsed through the room. Charlotte fell to the side, her ears ringing. The sounds around her were muffled now as she blinked slowly, her face pressed to the hardwood floor. Two hands grabbed her roughly, placing her back on her knees. A warm wetness soaked through the knees of her pants. She looked down beside her, a chill washing over her entire body. Even if she had wanted to scream, she doubted she could against the tightness in her throat.

On the floor lay her mother, the back of her head now a gaping hole. Charlotte couldn’t see her face, and for that she was glad. Blood pooled around her. She choked back the urge to vomit. Her mother was dead. A bitter taste filled her mouth. They hadn’t been close, but no daughter should have to see this. Charlotte wasn’t even sure how to begin to process the sight before her. Emily Hatcher was gone and her lying, spineless, coward of a husband was nowhere to be found. He left them to this, and now Charlotte’s life would end before it ever really began.

“Where is he?”

Charlotte looked up, resentment filling every ounce of her body. “He’s not here,” she said.
But I am
, she thought. And there was no way she was leaving the way her mother had. She’d do anything to stay alive so that one day she would be able to face her father again and tell him how he had failed them all.

Roman crouched in front of her, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you realize, little girl,” he said, Charlotte instantly taking offense to the way he addressed her. Roman could be no more than twenty, not that much older than her. “That I haven’t spoken a word to you since I entered? Did you know that?”

Charlotte stilled, realization slamming into her like a wrecking ball – her mother’s sudden distress made sense.
Jesus
, she cursed. She had answered Roman’s questions thinking he had said them out loud, but he hadn’t. For years her parents stressed the need to keep her ability a secret. She was in deep shit. Her mouth was dry and cottony.

“Can you hear my thoughts, Charlotte?” he asked, looking closely at her.

Her eyes went to her mother’s dead body then back to him. Anger at her for letting herself die over this, and anger at her father for putting them all in danger to begin with, raced through her. Above that, the desire to stay alive pulsed loudly in her veins. “Yes,” she answered.

A pleased smiled spread across his face, taking it from scary to breathtaking in one small shift of his lips. “How interesting,” he said. “Tell me, did your mother know where your father is?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “She was blocking me out.”

Roman watched her for a second before nodding his head slowly. “I believe you,” he said, shocking her. “And I can see the anger in your eyes. You’re mad at him, aren’t you?”

“He’s a selfish prick,” she said without thinking.

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Excellent,” he exclaimed. He stood, looking over his shoulder at the other three soldiers standing there. They suddenly looked nervous, their eyes glancing anxiously at her. They were
scared
of her. They knew she had heard all the things they’d been thinking since they got here. Her eyes met the one who tied her. He quickly looked away, his face paling. Never in her entire life had she felt as powerful as she did then, even as she knelt in her mother’s blood, her hands and feet bound behind her.

“Untie her,” Roman ordered. “She comes with me. You continue to look for signs of the rebels. Don’t return until this whole place has been searched and burned.”

“Yes sir,” they said together.

The squad leader stepped forward, cutting the ropes. She stood shakily, stretching out her aching limbs. Her eyes went back to her mother’s body, a mixture of anger and remorse washing over her.

“Come, Charlotte,” Roman said from the doorway. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

When Roman had entered her house, Charlotte could
feel
his presence. Some sort of intangible force surrounded him, demanding respect. He had nothing on Ludwig Tenebris. She was led into a large office, the floor to ceiling windows across from her bathing the room in a misleading warmth. Ludwig stood behind his desk, dark eyes watching her intently as she approached. He hadn’t said a word, and yet every hair on her arms stood on end. A shiver ran down her spine at the cold, calculated expression on his face, the power he exuberated with just the way he held himself.

“What do we have here?” he said. Charlotte swallowed against the dryness in her mouth. If surviving meant going along with whatever Roman had planned, then she was all for it. Dying was not an option. She would survive, and in time, she would grow to be strong enough to break away, find her sister, and get the hell away from London. Now, as she stood before the New World leader, she wondered if she’d ever make it out.

“A special treat,” Roman replied. “One I think you will rather enjoy.” A hand landed on her lower back, pushing her forward. She stumbled closer, her eyes locked on Ludwig.

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Charlotte Hatcher.”

Eyebrows shot up in surprise as Ludwig glanced at Roman questioningly. “Think of a number,” Roman said.

“Pardon me?” said Ludwig.

Roman laughed. “Ludwig, trust me, would you?”

The New World leader looked between the two of them doubtfully. “I’m starting to wonder if that’s such a good idea anymore,” he said.

“Humour me at the very least. You won’t be disappointed.”

“Twelve,” Charlotte said immediately. The second he had thought of it she heard it easily. His eyes shot to hers, widening in surprise. “Eighteen. Sixty two. Eighty nine.” God, Charlotte thought, how long is he going to do this? “Two thousand, five hundred and six.”

“How is she doing it?” he asked.

“She reads minds,” Roman said from behind her. Charlotte could hear the smile in his voice. Ludwig sat down behind his desk, his gaze never leaving her face.

“A girl who reads minds,” he said slowly. He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped loosely over his stomach. “My girl, I do believe you will be my greatest weapon yet.” The smile that stretched across his face made her stomach turn, but she kept her expression blank. They stared at each other in silence for a moment before he looked over at Roman. “And the father?”

“We didn’t find him.”

He nodded, looking back at her. “I bet he’ll be looking for you though, won’t he? Have a room prepared for our newest addition to the New World order.”

Her ears began to hum, their voices fading against the buzzing sound. Had she seriously just joined the New World army?
It’s just to stay alive
, she told herself. She could handle being around them for now. She’d been forcing herself to deal with shitty circumstances all her life. This was just simply new surroundings and different people. Her wall would stay firmly in place, and now she would have the opportunity to grow and ensure a future for herself. She would stay until she found her sister, and then she and Bridgette would leave everything and everyone behind. This was just one more stepping stone in the right direction. She could handle it. She had to.

“She needs a new name,” Ludwig was saying as she gave herself a mental shake and focused on the conversation around her.

“A new name?” she said, her voice shaky.

He nodded. “I can’t very well have everyone calling you Charlotte, now can I? Your father will know exactly where to find you if I do. A new name, a new life.”

A new name. A new life. A new identity, she thought.

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, thinking. “Dinah,” he eventually said, sitting forward. “Yes, it’s perfect. From now on you will be called Dinah.”

And just like that, Charlotte Hatcher was dead.

CHAPTER ONE

5 years later…

New Berlin, 2040

The man slumped to the floor, tears streaming down his face. Dinah looked on in disgust. She hated tears. They were a sign of weakness and served no purpose. She stood behind Ludwig’s chair, to his left, like she always did, Roman on the right. This whole scene was frustratingly familiar, as if she were living the same day over and over again. People were brought in, suspected of being rebels. More lies and, inevitably, death. She could tell from the way this one was blubbering that they wouldn’t be getting much out of him.

“Lottey,” Roman whispered.

She looked over, annoyed. “Stop calling me that,” she snapped. She hated when Roman called her by her old name. Charlotte meant
free man
. Her father had been molding her into a rebel right from the beginning, and she didn’t like to be reminded of that. Dinah, meaning justified, felt more natural to her now. It fit, considering she now served as Ludwig’s judge and jury. She’d been going by it for five years and yet Roman still couldn’t manage to call her by it.

She threw him a hard look, even though her mouth quirked up in a smile. He wouldn’t be able to see it anyway because of the mask she wore. Another of Ludwig’s changes for her. Dinah was required to wear a similar uniform to the men, but with a slight change – a light black shirt with a hood that went over not just her head, but her entire face. There was a thin opening for her to see through, but everything else was covered. She always thought she looked like a ninja – but way cooler, of course.

“A necessary must, I’m afraid,” Ludwig had said when he first brought the clothing to her. “If anyone realizes you are a woman, they will start to doubt your strength. We can’t have that if you are to be my third in command,” he explained. He didn’t say it, but she knew he also wanted to keep her hidden from her father. Not that she knew if he was even alive. No one had seen her father in years. He had literally dropped off the face of the earth.

Ludwig was still convinced he was alive and that if he knew where she was, her father would try and get her. Dinah doubted it, since he left her to her demise to begin with, but Ludwig wasn’t to be swayed from his belief. She didn’t mind anymore, even if the hood did get hot now and again. It added a sense of mystery to her, and she knew how unnerved it made people when they saw her. Ludwig’s “Weapon X,” they liked to call her. Of course, they had no idea she was a girl. She hadn’t been blessed with overly feminine curves, so the ruse was complete.

“X,” Ludwig said before she could find out what Roman wanted. He thought the nickname for her was funny, and adopted it himself.

She stepped forward so she was directly beside his chair. It amused her to see him sitting there like some King on his throne. The interrogation room was a large, dark room inside their main headquarters in downtown New Berlin. There were no windows – on purpose. Ludwig wanted anyone inside to feel completely disconnected from the world outside. Dark grey stones tiled the floor, stained from repeatedly spilled blood. Along the walls were sconces that lit the room in a dim glow, casting dancing shadows to unnerve the prisoners. There was no furniture except for the chair he sat in. It wasn’t necessarily a fancy chair by any means. Solid wood, carved with his crest at the top, and a red cushion for him to sit on. But still, she thought of it as his metaphorical throne.

She waited in silence for him to address her again. She
never
spoke out of turn. After five years of being his third in command, Dinah knew exactly where her place was.

“Is the pathetic excuse for a human telling the truth?” he said, as if asking what the weather was currently like outside.

“He knows little,” she answered. “He’s more scared of what you will do to him after. His thoughts aren’t coherent.” She kept her voice low, only loud enough for him to hear.

“Pity.” He frowned. “Nothing of use?”

Dinah turned to look at the man kneeling on the stone. He watched her nervously, visibly shaking under her cold stare. She searched deeper, shuffling through the useless crap she didn’t need to know. What is this? She thought, narrowing her eyes. Interesting. She pushed harder.

“He has a wall,” she said simply.

Ludwig leaned forward in his seat, his face hardened. “Another one?”

Dinah didn’t look away from the prisoner, but nodded in reply. This was the third this week. It hadn’t happened before then, well, except for her mother that last day. The fact that it was happening often now was concerning. Someone was teaching these men how to block her out.