Defy the Worlds (Defy the Stars #2)(62)

You’re just freaking out because of his—toys, she tells herself. Maybe we can set things right. Abel can if anyone can.

But she keeps her eyes on the hand crawling closer along the wall.

Meanwhile, Abel’s smiling. “Noemi can be rude and abrasive at first meeting. You just have to get to know her.”

“Abel,” she says. The word comes out breathy and hushed; it’s like the sight of Abel near this thing has stolen her strength. “Obviously you’ve met Simon, but I don’t know if you understand who he is—”

“He’s Gillian’s son and Mansfield’s grandson.”

Noemi blinks. “Okay. The thing is, Gillian wants him back, and Mansfield wants him deactivated.”

Abel turns back to her, and the expression on his face shocks her to the core. She hadn’t known he could feel true rage. “Deactivated?”

Maybe just this once Burton Mansfield has a point? But no. She can’t give up on Simon so easily. “He’s doing strange things with the broken mechs. It’s like he’s—controlling them.”

“They’re my toys,” says Simon. He tilts his head the way a curious dog might. The effect is much less endearing. “She doesn’t like my toys. Noemi blows them up.”

Abel brightens, like this is somehow a positive turn in the conversation. “My friend’s temper is highly variable. But I’ve learned her kindness is the truer part of her character. She understands that mechs like us aren’t merely mechs. That we’re something more. Not so very different from other people—”

“I’m not like other people.” Simon stumbles back. He’s still awkward in his new body. “Other people don’t have all this yelling in their heads. I want it to stop. Why won’t it stop?”

“What you’re perceiving as ‘yelling’ is probably your databanks giving you raw information.” Abel’s smile could break Noemi’s heart. He wants so badly to think that Simon is like him. “I can help you learn how to prioritize memory bank input versus current sensory intake. I mean—I can teach you to change the yelling to whispers. Then you won’t mind listening.”

“Abel,” she says in a low tone. “Simon’s the one who sent the mechs after me in the theater.”

Finally, that gets through. Abel looks back at her, concern furrowing his brow. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“I did it! I did it!” This small child in the dimly lit hallway laughs as a severed hand crawls toward him as its master—and somehow his laughter is the scariest part. “My toys are my friends. Real friends. They do whatever I want them to do. They help me.”

Noemi clutches at the sleeve of Abel’s thick white coat. “Please, let’s go.”

“It’s all right…” Abel’s voice trails off as the broken mechs at their feet begin to twitch.

As obliterated as these mechs are, they’re trying to respond to Simon. A detached arm crawls toward them, pulling itself forward with its bloodied metal fingers. A Sugar model rolls onto her side, kicking at Noemi’s feet. Hopping sideways to avoid that, she pulls more insistently at Abel. “We have to get out of here before he calls more of them.”

Of course Abel wants to talk technological breakthroughs. “You’re controlling other mechs? Remotely? That’s a remarkable advance, Simon. Can you explain the method of your—”

“No!” Simon balls his hands into fists. “They’re mine!”

The Uncle on the floor grabs at Abel’s leg but misses. Its motion distracts Noemi from the Sugar reaching for her blaster.

At the first tug, Noemi manages to pull the blaster back, barely. She fires, destroying the Sugar with a single blaster bolt. As its remains collapse and clatter, the disembodied hand drops down on her, skittering its fingers through her hair. All the battles she’s lived through can’t stop her from screaming as she slaps it away from her.

“Noemi?” Abel’s trying to look after her and beat back half a George at the same time.

She takes Abel’s hand and runs away from Simon—trusting, praying, that Abel will follow her instead of pulling back.

He does. They dash from the theater, footsteps thudding so heavily that she can’t tell whether any of the mechs are chasing them. It doesn’t matter where they go, as long as it’s somewhere else.

They find a pair of doors that lead them into what was once a kitchen, and Abel manages to slide them soundly shut before any of the other mechs can follow. For a few seconds, they stand there in silence. Noemi finally catches her breath. “What’s wrong with him?”

Abel’s blue eyes lock on hers with a gravity she hasn’t seen in him since he offered to die for Genesis more than five months before. “Simon’s only confused and afraid.”

“That’s what I thought at first. But what he’s doing with the other mechs—the way he’s lashing out, denying his human side—he’s dangerous.”

Abel’s expression is hard to recognize. It takes Noemi a few seconds to realize that he just doesn’t believe her. “I realize Simon has problems, but he can’t be… written off so completely. Not yet. You don’t understand.”

“…I guess maybe I don’t.”