“No one’s going to recognize her,” says Nazeera. “And anyone who does recognize her already knows to keep their mouth shut. The subject is classified.”
“Yeah, but we should get her a change of clothes before we go,” says Winston, shrugging into his jacket. “Just to be safe. The hospital gear is a little obvious and really bumming me out.”
Adam stares. “You’re not going to cuff her?”
“No way,” I say. “She’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“Ooh, we can always tell people she’s an old friend of mine,” Nazeera says, wrapping her shawl around her head. “Visiting.”
Winston scoffs. “No one will believe that.”
“Why not?”
“Where’s she supposed to be visiting from?” he asks, arching a brow. “Serial killer academy? She has the personality of a wall.”
“All right, that’s enough,” I say angrily. “You don’t even know her.”
“How am I supposed to know her?” he counters. “She’s like a mini Warner. She doesn’t talk. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t eat. Her only personality trait is being a good murderer.”
“How can you admit that,” says Adam, “and still be willing to take her out to dinner?”
“I’m starved for entertainment,” says Winston.
“You’re all out of your minds.”
I sigh, turning to Rosabelle. “Look, no pressure or anything, but do you think you could say something? Just so they know you’re capable of speech? You’re scaring people.”
There’s a shudder of sound, then absolute silence, as everyone turns to look at her.
Rosabelle goes inhumanly still.
Clearly, she doesn’t like the attention. I’m beginning to understand that she doesn’t like to be watched, period.
She takes a step back. I steady her.
She shakes her head at me. I tilt my head at her.
“Please?” I say quietly. “I just want everyone to know you’re not trying to kill them.”
Rosabelle holds my gaze a beat before looking away, and I can practically see her mind processing: sorting and analyzing reams of data. It’s a second before she looks up, her eyes tight as she scans the group assembled before her. The tension is suddenly weird and intense. No one is smiling, not even ironically. Everyone is waiting, hypnotized, to hear her speak.
She parts her lips.
Looks at me one last time.
“You can say whatever you want,” I tell her. “Really. It doesn’t have to be, like, a fun fact about yourself. No pressure.”
Slowly, she turns to the others.
Takes a breath.
She says, “There are undercover agents all over the continent planning to commit synchronized acts of terror against your civilians over the course of the next several weeks. I don’t know how many there are, and I don’t know when these incidents will occur. But you won’t be able to stop them. Your society has already been infiltrated. Your world is in danger. Your only chance at success lies with me.” She lifts her chin. “You have to let me go home. Tonight. Or you will suffer the consequences.”
28
Rosabelle
“Nope,” James says sharply, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I meant what I said. We’re not discussing anythinguntil you eat—”
