Wayward Son (Simon Snow, #2)(44)

Baz throws his suitcase down, in disgust.

“Agatha wouldn’t call me just to talk,” Penny says. “She wouldn’t call me unless she was scared.”

There’s a noise from Penny’s phone. The voicemail must still be playing. It sounds like there’s a door opening.

“She was talking on the phone.” It’s the man’s voice again. He still sounds faraway, but his voice has a harder edge. “Find it.”

There are more noises. “Do we have her phone number?” a different man asks. “We could call it.”

“Find it and bring it to me. We’ll have to move up the extraction.”

There’s a rustling sound. A hand on the phone. A third man, unmuffled: “Found it—fuck, she’s still on a call.” A scuffle. The voicemail ends.

None of us move. We’re all staring at Penelope’s mobile.

Then Penelope jabs her hand out and powers the phone down. She looks up at me. “Agatha is in trouble.”





33





AGATHA


It’s all perfectly fine.

I mean, I’m probably being recruited into a cult.

And seduced by its charismatic leader.

And I am stranded at their compound.…

But everything seems mostly fine?

Yes, I would rather go home than spend another minute in this place. But I can’t leave Ginger (whom I haven’t seen since yesterday). And I can’t imagine just leaving.

Partly I can’t imagine it because I have no idea where the door is.

I’ve been upgraded to the members-only wing. Which feels much more like a hospital than a nouveau riche mansion.

Like a nouveau riche mansion/hospital.

All the hallways are stainless steel, and the floors are polished concrete. And there are far fewer windows than you’d expect.

“There’s a lot of innovation happening in this part of the house,” Braden said when he was giving me the tour. “Security is paramount.”

He showed me his perfectly ordered labs. And then a room full of computers that felt like a lab. And then a spa that looked like a lab—with white leather recliners and a whirlpool. “Do you have scientists who give pedicures?” I asked.

Braden laughed. “I spend most of my time on health science. Deep cleanses, detoxification, rejuvenation.”

“My mum would love it here.”

“Come on in,” he said, taking my arm. I let him. I was feeling charmed by him at that moment. Maybe it would be okay to date a thirty-under-thirty type. I’d get lots of excuses to dress up. And he seemed to like it when I took the air out of him.

I’d never been able to tease Simon that way when we were dating. He was too fragile. Simon was like a nuclear missile with self-esteem issues; it was exhausting.

I followed Braden into his stainless-steel spa, and he sat me in one of the leather chairs.

“Grip here,” he said, directing me to a handle.

I did.

“Do you know your blood type?” he asked.

“I can’t remember.…”

He pressed a button on the chair. I expected it to start massaging my back. Instead, a touchscreen panel swung out of the side. “A-positive,” he said. “Look here, that’s your red blood cell count. Perfectly normal. Here’s your leukocytes.”

“What— How does it know all that?”

“It just took a blood sample,” Braden said. “You didn’t even feel it.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Your glucose is higher than I’d expect. I wonder what that means.”

“Is this your way of making sure I don’t have STDs?”

“Ha, no, of course not. You don’t, though. Nothing out of the ordinary. I have a vaccine—”

“Braden, what are you doing?”

He grinned at me. “Showing you what I do.” He waved his arm around the room. “This is the most advanced medical equipment in the country. I can cure almost anything here.”

“Shouldn’t you … tell someone?”

He laughed again, like I was being clever. I’m never being clever.

“I can’t wait to get some electrodes on you,” he said. “And we’ll need a fasting sample, too. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

“Why? Am I sick?”

“No, you’re perfect. You’re exquisite.”

“Do you have some weird medical kink?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. A little. I just geek out over stuff like this. I like to see what makes people tick. I like to decode them.”

I pictured Braden unravelling my DNA and selling it off for parts.

“This is a sales pitch, isn’t it? Where you sell me juices based on my blood type? Because Ginger and I tried those. It’s a pyramid scheme.”

Braden picked up my hand. The one that was clenched around the chair.

“Agatha, why can’t you accept that I’m exactly what I look like? A billionaire genius who can’t take his eyes off you.”



* * *



That was yesterday.

I spent most of the day with him and didn’t see Ginger till late in the afternoon. “Where have you been?” she asked. Her whole face was shining. “Don’t tell me, I already know—you like him, don’t you?”