Here with Bellanger. The sole recipient of his knowledge, working alongside him as an equal. The direct transmission of his genius and ambition into my brain. How many times had I imagined something exactly like this? Compared to the slowness of my work back in Chicago, trying to reinvent the wheel … this was exactly what I’d hoped for. All these women, empty and waiting and eager.
When I didn’t answer, he went on. “In fact, Josephine, I owe it to you,” Bellanger said. “Seeing your ambition laid bare like that reminded me that I couldn’t hide forever. You inspired me to return to my original ambitions. Without you, I might’ve forgotten what led me to do this work in the first place.”
“It was me?” I asked. “You’re saying that I was behind all this?” A memory of the men at Kithira, the way Black Shoes had insisted that it was all my fault. “So were you proud of me?” I asked impulsively.
He looked at me with a faint surprise, eyebrows raised. “Proud,” he repeated, turning it over, considering it from all angles. “Well. I’m not sure it was that simple.”
“I always imagined you’d be proud of me. That’s why I did it. I thought you were dead, Dr. Bellanger, and it was up to me to unlock parthenogenesis again. For both of us. So were you proud of me? Or were you jealous?”
He leaned back. “You must have heard all kinds of things from the others. I’d caution you against paranoia. I’d have thought, with your scientific mind and your understanding of what’s at stake, that you’d embrace this opportunity without letting emotions get in the way.” His eyes flicked up and down my body. “Although I shouldn’t be surprised, you’ve spent all this time with Margaret. Getting soft. I suppose my influence can only extend so far.”
I pressed my lips together. “Sorry, Dr. Bellanger. I’m not your girl.”
“Then I was wrong about you,” he said. “Clearly. This was a mistake. A gesture of respect that you’re too selfish to understand.”
“I came here for my mother,” I said, sharper now.
“When the time is right,” Bellanger said. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”
I trailed after Bellanger, back through the dusty, drab grounds of the compound. Now that I knew how long Fiona had been here, it felt smaller, tighter, cramped. Like I couldn’t draw a full breath. We passed one of the silent cameras, watching from the top of the fence. I glanced at Bellanger to see if he’d explain, or even acknowledge it, but he didn’t slow his pace. The place had gone back to feeling deserted. Like the scattering of people inside the chapel had been a collective dream and they’d dissolved the moment we left.
I could stop him, I thought. I could command him to tell me where my mother was. I could make him take me to Cate and Isabelle. Unlock the gates. We could leave right now.
But Fiona. What about Fiona? She would still be here with him.
The two of us passed a small house, barely larger than a shed: a girl, a teenager, was walking out, pausing to stare when she saw us. I looked past her and through the half-open door. What I saw made me nearly stop in my tracks. I forced myself to keep going. Guns: a shiny, spiky clutter of them, leaning against the walls, lined up along the floor. The girl pulled the door shut behind her, expression calm, as if there were nothing strange about the room she’d just left.
I took a deep breath. There was a firearm for every person I’d seen at the compound so far, easily. A calculation that curdled in my stomach. What was Bellanger doing here? The world is nearly ready for us. What he had meant was that they were nearly ready for the world. They were preparing for war.
48
After his pitch to me, Bellanger saw Cate and Isabelle in turn. Mathias would knock on the door, escort one girl away, return her after a tense hour. We slept fitfully that night, and when we woke up, the door wouldn’t give.
“It’s locked,” Isabelle said, trying the knob, then falling back onto the bed. She didn’t sound surprised, and Cate and I only nodded. Alone in our quarters—a simple, windowless room, outfitted with a couple of mattresses on the floor, a bare bulb, not much else—the true seriousness of the situation clinched around us.
“What did he talk to you about?” I asked Cate.
“He kept bringing up my mother’s ‘alternative healing.’” She rolled her eyes. “Pretty sure that asshole was trying to convince me to stay. He said I’d be able to look after the women here. Be his little nurse. He was getting pretty mad when I didn’t just fold.”