Chapter Twenty-Six

Delaney

"Alright," Nessa began briskly, lacing her fingers under her chin. "We have limited time, but this is your chance to ask any questions you may have. I'll answer them to the best of my ability."

Caleb looked hesitant. "What about..." He trailed off.

"Miracle? No need to worry about her. She thinks I'm interrogating you, and I convinced her not to put up security cameras in here on the pretense that you'd be more likely to talk if you weren't pressured by cameras."

"How do we know you're not lying?" Abby demanded. "Or, how do you know that Miracle hasn't gone behind your back and put up cameras anyway?"

At that appalling thought, I leaned back and glanced around Nessa's small, ground floor office. I didn't see any traces of cameras along the white walls or stuffed bookcases, but that didn't prove anything. There were plenty of cameras too small for the eye to see, and they could be anywhere.

Nessa blinked slowly. "I don't," she stated. "But, strange as it may seem, when Miracle is in a good mood, she actually trusts my judgment. And after stuffing you guys in the sub-basements, she was in a very good mood." She paused. "And as for whether or not you can trust me, well, I guess that's your choice isn't it?"

It was a smart answer, and Abby seemed satisfied. Even with my paranoid tendencies, I felt that I trusted Nessa—at least somewhat. More than that, though, I wanted any information I could get, and that was what she was offering us.

"So," Nessa continued, realizing that she'd won us over, "questions?"

The four of us glanced at each other from our respective chairs, our mouths open with the unasked questions lingering on our tongues. In the end, Caleb was the one who spoke first.

"This may sound stupid," he muttered, "but who are you?"

Nessa just laughed. "I'm Miracle's personal adviser. She doesn't trust me as far as she can throw me, but it lets her keep an eye on my activities. And besides, I give pretty good advice.

"Of course, I doubt that's the answer you were looking for." In the moment before she continued, her eyes glinted with pride. "In reality, I was the first lady of the United States of America. At the time of the Superior takeover, my husband was just beginning his second year as the youngest president in history."

We stared at her blankly. "President, like, of a company?" Trai asked finally.

For a moment Nessa looked confused, then she nodded. "Something like that. I forget that you kids weren't alive before the Superiors. The President was the one who—uh—ruled the country, I guess you could say. Except it wasn't quite ruling, it was—well, it was complicated. And very, very different from this secretive, disgusting, totalitarian regime we have now."

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting together. I knew there had been some kind of government before the Superiors, but I'd never heard anything about it other than that it was corrupt. The only presidents I'd ever heard of were, like Trai said, heads of businesses.

"And what about the United States of America?" Abby questioned, sounding out the words slowly on her tongue.

"That's what this country used to be called," Nessa explained. "Now, of course, it's just 'The States'." She sighed and shook her head.

We took that in silently. Then I spoke up, saying, "Okay, so you said your husband was the president before the Superior takeover. And Miracle told us that she was the first Superior. The takeover happened more than half a century ago. No offense, but how are you still alive?"

Another laugh, this one more forced. "When the takeover happened, sixty years ago, David Leary and his Superiors were a small group. It'd been eight years since Miracle's conception, and in that time, he had created three more Superiors; Charisma, whom I believe you've met, was one of them. Seeing how few people he had backing him, he didn't want them to age and eventually die—though their enhanced genes would give them a much longer life-span. So, immediately after taking over, he began to experiment.

"By then, there were essentially no politicians left, having been killed by the Superiors. My husband, the president, was his last target. Leary, along with several other scientists whom he'd kidnapped over the years, began developing a growth deceleration formula in the form of a virus. Basically, it made you age backwards for eight years—the amount of time Miracle had aged—and then brought growth to a stand-still. Something to do with cell repetition or something."

"Cell replication," Trai correction, sounding excited. "They slowed down, reversed, and stopped cell replication. But they must have engineered the virus so it doesn't affect cells of vital inner organs. That's so cool."

We stared at him, and Abby rolled her eyes.

"Excuse my brother," she said dryly, "he's a low-key nerd. Don't let his ramblings get you off track. You were saying?"

"Right." Nessa dived eagerly back into her story. "Well, see, Leary didn't want to test the virus on his precious Superior, just in case it backfired. So instead, he gathered a group of daughters, sons, wives, and husbands of various politicians, and tested it on them. Or should I say, us.

"It worked, obviously. I was thirty at the time, but I've been twenty-two for the past sixty years, or so. Every girl's dream, right?" She smiled wryly.

I sucked in a long breath as something else dawned on me. "What about the guards?" I asked. "They all seem to be unnaturally strong, like a Superior. Do they have enhanced genes, too?"

Nessa nodded enthusiastically. "Ah, so you've noticed. Very perceptive, Delaney. Yes, Leary and his scientists gave them similar infusions to the ones the Superiors have, except without the good looks and super brains. And, actually, they did the same to me."

She looked down, almost shyly, as we watched her in disbelief. It was hard to believe that this woman, as petite as she was, could break anything larger than a paper clip.

"Can you show us?" Caleb asked curiously.

After a moment's hesitation, Nessa nodded. She fished through the papers scattered across her desk and dug out a standard issue yellow pencil. With a quick, deft movement, she snapped the pencil in half.

"Oh, come on," Abby protested, "anyonecan do that."

I can't, I thought bitterly. But Nessa held up a hand to silence Abby. With the other hand, she clutched the broken pencil halves and squeezed. A moment later, fine yellow dust sprinkled out from between her fingers.

We stared.

"Oh," Abby murmured.

Smiling grimly, Nessa shook the remains of the disintegrated pencil onto a sheet of paper and crumpled it up.

"Yeah," she said. She stared down at the paper. "When they developed this virus, they also developed the process of wiping people's memories and replacing them with others. You know, like what they do with new candidates. They tested that too, on nearly everyone in the Capitol. Thankfully, Miracle took a liking to me, and I managed to get out of that one."

"Lucky break," Caleb remarked. Nessa nodded, then was quiet.

"I have a question," Trai spoke up. We looked at him expectantly. "What do you have to do with the Pro-Inferiors?"

"I'm their Capitol contact," Nessa said. "It's risky, but I, along with several others, send out classified information to the Pro-Inferior leaders on a monthly basis."

I nodded to myself, remembering what Jeremy Fairleigh had said about news from one of the Capitol contacts. Nessa hadn't directly admitted before that she was a member of the Pro-Inferiors, but it was an easy assumption.

"How did you get involved with them?" Trai pressed, already continuing.

Nessa didn't get to answer, because at that moment, the door to her office flew open, sending us springing up in our seats. In the doorway stood a Superior with creamy brown skin and long, reddish-brown hair that hung in long waves. After closing the door behind her, she whipped off her shades, revealing her startlingly perfect face.

"Way to take your time," Nessa muttered, rolling her eyes.

The Superior rolled her eyes right back. "At least I'm here, right?" Then she stalked across the room with the poise of a supermodel and dropped down into a chair just behind Nessa's.

"Who is this?" Caleb asked tightly, eyeing the Superior with a suspicious gaze.

"This is Perfecta," Nessa said briskly. Perfecta flashed us a reptilian smile, not unlike Miracle. I raised an eyebrow. Perfecta? What kind of self-indulgent name was that?

"Excuse me?" she snapped. I quickly realized, with a sinking feeling, that I had unwittingly made that comment aloud.

"Nothing," I murmured.

"What?" Her tone was mocking. "Say it again, louder."

"Nothing," I practically shouted. Perfecta smirked smugly, then twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

"And what is she doing here?" Abby demanded, after flashing me a deprecating glare. "I was under the impression that this party was going to be Superior-free."

Nessa shook her head as Perfecta snorted. "I never said that, did I? Perfecta is my...partner in crime, as people used to say."

"I like to think that you're my partner in crime," Perfecta countered, smirking.

"She is also," Nessa went on, ignoring the comment, "one of the first Superiors."

Caleb

"Nice to meet you all," Perfecta drawled, in a sardonic, scathing way that contradicted her greeting. "I've heard quite a bit about your idiotic endeavors."

I gave her a once over, trying to determine if we could trust her. But while I was good at reading people's emotion, the Superior seemed to be even better at hiding them. I groaned in frustration, then settled for just asking.

"Can we trust her?" I directed the question at Nessa, who was fiddling with her short blonde hair.

"Of course," she said dismissively. "She hates the Superiors even more than I do."

Abby leaned forward, her eyelids fluttering. "But she is a Superior."

From behind Nessa, Perfecta spoke up. "You think I don't know that, brat?"

"Be nice," Nessa warned her friend.

But Abby, unsurprisingly, wasn't fazed. She crossed her arms challengingly. "Alright, Perfecta. Why don't you tell us why you hate the Superiors so much?"

Perfecta suddenly stiffened. "That's my business," she snapped. Curiosity spiked up inside of me.

Nessa cut in before Abby could open her mouth. "Do you kids have anymore questions?" she asked hurriedly. "Perfecta works side-by-side with Miracle, so she has more information than I do. Ask her whatever you want."

"Our parents," Delaney said immediately, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. She didn't say more, but it was enough. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, thinking of my own parents and wondering if they knew where I was. Strangely, what worried me most was whether or not they knew why I was gone, and if they did, how disappointed they were.

Perfecta was silent for a moment before answering. "They've been told that you were randomly selected for a Capitol tour," she said eventually, "and they ate it up. The trip is supposed to last for a week, so they expect you to arrive home the day before the Choosing ceremony takes place. Now that you refused Miracle's offer for freedom, however, I don't know what she's going to tell your parents."

Delaney squirmed in her seat, fear and sadness written all over her face. In a surprisingly kind gesture, Nessa reached across the desk and placed a hand on Delaney's arm.

"Don't worry too much," she said warmly. "If all goes well, you'll be out of here by then."

I raised my eyebrows. "What do you mean by tha—"

"That's enough questioning for now, I think," Nessa interrupted, her voice suddenly stiff and businesslike. She was staring over our heads at something behind us. Carefully, nonchalantly, I twisted my neck as if rolling it out. From the corner of my eye, through the glass pane at the top of the door, I caught sight of a man. He had a shock of brown hair and round glasses, but before I could observe anything more, he had hurried away.

○●○●○●○

"Why don't I get you kids something to eat?" Nessa asked, as soon as the man has gone. She was back to her old self, but still seemed tense. "You must be starving."

Right on cue, my stomach growled loudly. Abby glanced at me in amusement. I hadn't realized how hungry I was, and it hit me all at once. It occurred to me that we'd missed lunch the day before, so, assuming it was morning, I hadn't eaten for at least twenty-four hours. Or, as my parched throat reminded me, had anything to drink.

"That would be great, thanks," I replied for everyone, smiling at Nessa.

She grinned back, then stood up, heading toward the back of her office, where there was another door. "Get up and help me, Perfecta," she called over her shoulder. Perfecta just stared at us, as she'd been doing since she sat down. I fought the urge to wriggle under her unblinking gaze.

"Must I?" she complained. "Normal people are just so...interesting looking!" Her eyes roved over us with child-like curiosity.

"You have me," Nessa laughed, "now hurry it up."

"I don't want to look at your ugly face," Perfecta muttered, but she got up and followed Nessa out of the room.

The second they had gone, Delaney jumped half out of her seat and looked at us desperately.

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted, wide-eyed. "If I hadn't challenged Miracle like that, we wouldn't be here right now. This is my fault." She hung her head.

Surprisingly, it was Abby who offered the first comfort. "While I do agree with that, I have to admit that you were right. Something like all this"—she waved her hands around—"shouldn't be hidden."

"Yeah," Trai agreed, placing a hand on Delaney's arm, "it was brave."

"Very," I seconded, grinning. "Remind me why you weren't Popular, again?" That earned a few laughs, however forced. But Delaney became sober quickly.

"If anything happens to us, just know I'm sorry, okay?" she murmured with a strange look in her eyes.

"Nothing's going to happen to us." I tried to sound reassuring, but Delaney didn't seem convinced. Hell, I couldn't blame her; I was having a hard time convincing myself.

A moment later, she spoke again. "Ms. Shea was down there," she murmured. "In the cell next to mine."

We all gaped. "How do you know?" Abby demanded. At that, Delaney smiled slightly.

"Morse code," she explained. "Ms. Shea tapped out a code, and we were talking to her. She says she's fine, but..." She shrugged.

Just then, the inner door was eased open.

"I have sustenance," Nessa announced, her voice filling the room as she reentered. She carried a silver tray in one hand. I was surprised by how much I like Nessa, with her easy confidence and light, no-nonsense attitude. There was absolutely no reason to trust her, yet somehow, I did.

"We," Perfecta corrected, waltzing into the room with a six pack of water bottles in her hands. Nessa set a platter of bagels and cream cheese on the desk in front of us, nodding in an indication for us to help ourselves.

"Thank you, Nessa," I said sincerely. She smirked in response.

"My pleasure."

Five minutes later, the platter was empty, and the four of us were leaning back in our seats, sipping the cold bottles of water, our hunger satiated.

"What time is it?" I asked abruptly, glancing around the room for any sign of a clock.

Nessa pulled an ancient-looking cell phone out of her blazer pocket and squinted at its screen. "Nine thirty-six in the morning," she informed me.

I nodded absently, filing that away in my head, but I couldn't take my eyes off of her phone. It made me think of my own cellular device, probably still tucked into my bag, sitting in the office. Most likely, it was dead by now, a useless rock. Before, when my phone died, it pretty much killed me as well. That was when the most important things on it were my countless—and pointless—apps.

Now, though, all I could think about was what else I could do with my phone if I had it with me. About how I could call my mom, my dad, maybe even Carlie—tell them to come and help me. Though, of course, the chances that they'd be any help were slim.

"I should probably be taking you back, now," Nessa said eventually. I groaned inwardly, thinking of the bare cells. As if she'd read my mind, Nessa continued with, "However, Perfecta has made arrangements for you to be transferred to some nicer cells, at least for the time being." She glanced at the Superior, who nodded grudgingly.

"For the record, Nessa made me. But Miracle hasn't decided how she's going to execute you yet, so you might as well be comfortable while you wait."

We stared at her solemn face in horror—until abruptly, she cracked a smile.

"Only kidding," she said. "She doesn't know what she's going to do with you yet. But we'll do everything in our power to make sure you guys get an easy sentence, all right?"

Surprised by her sudden sincerity, I merely nodded, and watched my friends do the same. Then, Nessa smiled at us.

"I know it's not an exciting prospect," she said, "but let's get you to your cells, shall we?"

~~~

A/N: Picture of Perfecta on the side~ Because Tyra Banks really does look like a Barbie doll, and it honestly creeps me out. O.e