Not brown—green, he thought to himself, distracted. Lucent. Like an emerald held up to the light.

Show me where I am, Dieter. That’s all you have to do. I’ll take care of everything else.

They stared at each other. The voice on the speaker interrupted again.

“Lieutenant, are you experiencing any kind of discomfort?”

Dieter’s mouth pinched. “No, sir. None at all. It appears the subject is quite weak, sir. I don’t believe it poses any immediate threat. The collar, in combination with the drug, seems to have rendered it quite harmless.”

So she was wearing a collar. Lu shouted into his mind, Dieter, show me!

His eyes fluttered closed. Lu received a mental picture, startlingly clear, of her exact location.

She began, weakly, to laugh.

“Thank you, lieutenant. Return to command.”

Dieter thought hurriedly, The Peace Guard don’t have access into the main facility; you’re in processing. You’re to be transferred as soon as Thorne arrives. Once you’re in, I won’t be able to get you out—

Thank you, Dieter, Lu thought, smiling up at him calmly. Thank you for everything. You’ve been a good friend. In fact, you might be the best friend I ever had.

Dieter’s expression registered confusion, surprise, but most of all, gratitude. To cover his emotions, he blustered, I’m not all that great; I didn’t do such a good job of keeping my eyes on your face on my way in the room. He glanced down at her bare chest, then reddening, looked away.

“Lieutenant,” repeated the disembodied voice, harder, “return to command.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tried to tell her something else, but Lu had withdrawn. All was silent. With a final, pleading look, Dieter turned and left the room.

THIRTY-THREE

Sebastian Thorne hadn’t felt this much excitement since the day of the Flash, when all his plans had finally come to fruition, and he’d taken over the world.

Watching the thing that called itself Lumina Bohn through the one-way glass of the interrogation room where she sat calmly with crossed legs in a metal chair, reading, he admitted to himself that she was beautiful. It was beautiful. Whatever; the monster was attractive. Perhaps more so than any other living thing he’d ever seen.

Which was saying a lot. Thorne had been everywhere, seen everything. God’s own miracle, he thought, allowing himself an uncharacteristic moment of sarcasm. Thorne knew God had nothing to do with anything, and never had.

“I don’t recommend it, sir. It’s far too dangerous.”

Three, glowering beside him at the glass, stared at Lumina. In the room around him, murmurs of assent came from the gathering of his top people who’d come to witness the event.

“She’s perfectly docile,” countered Thorne, pointing out with his usual impeccable logic that she’d been compliant since awakening, she hadn’t harmed anyone who’d come into contact with her so far, and had even expressed the quite charming desire to read a book while her vitals were recorded, her blood drawn, her body examined. From her attitude, Thorne felt almost certain that she was relieved to have been finally apprehended. He couldn’t imagine what she’d been doing since fleeing, but it surely was unpleasant. Running, hiding . . . what kind of life was that?

Better to be here, safe with her own kind. Or unsafe, as it were, seeing how they were all scheduled to be exterminated. But she didn’t have to know that.

“Its mother was perfectly docile for years, and look what that one recently did to her doctor,” said Three.

“The mother is insane,” said Thorne flatly. “I’m told just a few hours ago it leapt from its bed and began screaming bloody murder for no apparent reason.”

No one had a good answer for that.

“I’m going in,” he announced, and went to the door, ignoring the howls of protest his decision produced. “Open it!” he ordered into the ceiling camera. Obediently, the door slid open, and he stepped into the room. The door slid closed behind him, and Thorne felt the collective held breath.

Lumina looked up at him, surprised, blinking. She closed the book, and hesitantly rose to her feet. “Um, hello?” she said softly in greeting.

Perfectly docile. And collared, to boot. Thorne smiled, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced into the room. He made a slow circle around her, looking her up and down, noting the tattoos on her ankle and wrists. Kinky. She wore the standard-issue white knee-length gown, and nothing else. For the briefest of moments, Thorne allowed himself to remember what delights were hidden beneath.

He’d already reviewed the recorded footage of her processing. Spectacular. He’d definitely be reviewing that again soon.

Thorne made a full circle, then stopped an arm’s length in front of her, still smiling. “Miss Bohn. How lovely to meet you at last.” To her obvious shock, he extended his hand.

She stared at it for a beat, then took it, shaking his hand with a firm, if tentative, grip. He released her hand and imagined the relieved exhalation from the glass behind him.

Lumina demurely lowered her lashes, clasping the book against her chest. “I-I’m pleased to meet you, sir,” she stammered, “and I-I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I have to admit I’m a bit embarrassed. I’m not used to so much attention.”

Was that a blush on its cheeks? And it was apologizing? Charming creature! Thorne beamed at her, intensely pleased. He was expecting anything but this. Perhaps he’d keep one of them alive, after all. She—it—was just so . . . delightful.

In his best stern, fatherly voice, Thorne said, “Well, you’ve certainly led us on a merry chase, Miss Bohn.”

She ducked her head, murmuring, “Lumina.”

“Pardon?”

“Please, call me Lumina.” She glanced up at him, shy and lovely, and his heart missed a beat.

But no. This was getting out of hand. He drew himself up and said, “I only refer to my friends by their given names, Miss Bohn. While you reside in this facility I’ll—”

“Oh, but I do hope we can be friends, sir,” she interrupted earnestly, her brows drawn together. “I’m . . . I . . . I don’t have any friends.” She took her lower lip between her teeth and gazed at him, looking a little lost.

His mouth fell open. He was astonished at his response to her, a heady mix of paternal concern and rampant lust, and he had to make a quarter turn away to manage it, hiding his face. He coughed into his hand. “Yes. Well. You’ve led an unusual life.”

When he turned back to her, she’d sunk into the chair and was gazing at the floor. She crossed her legs at the ankle and drew them in, and he couldn’t help but notice the high arches of her bare feet, the long, slender line of her calves. On his forehead, dots of perspiration broke out.

“May I please . . . if I might be frank with you, sir?”

So polite! Such perfect submission! The lowered eyes, the respectful voice, that exquisite deference! Thorne didn’t trust himself to speak at the moment, so he simply made a vague noise of assent.

Lumina said quietly, “The Grand Minister . . .” her head snapped up and her eyes went wide, as if she’d just remembered something. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. “Oh! Sir! How is he?”

Thorne was puzzled. “He was seriously burned—as you of course know—but he’s recovering nicely. Why do you ask?”

She seemed genuinely distraught. Swallowing hard, she whispered, “It was just such a shock, sir. I-I never meant to hurt him, or anyone. He just scared me so much, and I-I reacted . . . I don’t even know how I did it, really, I just . . . but I swear I didn’t mean to hurt him. He was just very . . . scary. I’m so sorry. Will you please tell him I’m sorry?”