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  Rogue Memory

  Tiffany Frost

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Tiffany Frost. All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For not giving up

  Chapter One

  The ghost gums lining the lake scented the air with the sweet, tangy smell of eucalyptus. Stephanie took a deep breath, trying to calm herself as she walked between the trees, toward the group of young adults laughing as they dared each other to swing into the lake.

  Her wrist tingled and she swung her arm up, activating the holographic display. The lights fluttered across her skin and she frowned. Spencer Evans was requesting a face-to-face.

  She flicked the display open and ducked behind a tree.

  Though the teens she'd met earlier this summer thought he was her uncle instead of her monitor, it wouldn't do anything for her credibility if she was seen talking to him on the way to a party.

  "What?" she snapped.

  "I have to talk to you."

  "I can see that."

  Sweat pooled at the back of Stephanie's neck and she wiped it away, running her hand over the hair at the nape of her neck. She slicked the flyaway auburn tendrils up into her high bun. Even when dressed in a pair of shorts and a swim top, the heat was oppressive on this planet, the terraforming making conditions barely livable this close to the equator.

  "I'm nearly at the party." She raised her eyebrow, expectantly. What could be so important he'd waste the extra credits on a face call? It's not like he didn't know where she was.

  "It's Caroline."

  Her breath hissed in, catching on a lump that formed in her throat. All thoughts of the party fled from her mind in an instant. She leaned back against a tree, the bark oddly smooth on her bare skin.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Psychotic break, same as the others."

  She closed her eyes. Her ears popped and she felt like she was falling, even though she could feel the tree pressed against her back and, presumably, it was still rooted into the ground. She waited for the ground to come up and smack her in the face, bracing for impact.

  "What are her symptoms?" her voice came out as a whisper.

  "Audio-visual hallucinations, delusions of persecution."

  She opened her eyes. "How many is that now?"

  "Six."

  Her throat closed over. She blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the sudden sting at her eyes. She couldn't cry here, no matter how much she cared about Caroline.

  "That's... About ten percent of us."

  "Six females. Seven males."

  Her breath escaped in a low gasp, like she'd been punched in the stomach.

  "That's what? Nearly a seventy-five percent success rate? If no one else develops any symptoms."

  He nodded.

  "Have they made any progress on developing a cure?"

  He shook his head. "Any medications we've tried have a negative impact on your abilities." And they both knew their abilities were the whole reason they were there.

  "Is there anything we can do?"

  "I don't know, Steph." He ran a hand down his face, as though trying to wipe the stress away. He looked old suddenly, lines appeared on his face that hadn't been there before.

  "Anything?" Her voice broke on a sob and she turned away from the display, trying to hide her face from the image readers.

  "I'm sorry. I know you were close to Caroline."

  She took a deep breath and turned back to the video call. "What about coping strategies? Therapy? Meditation? There has to be something you can do!"

  "It's not my job to take care of the others, Stephanie."

  "Damn it, Spencer, what about me?" Tears stung her eyes and she forced herself not to turn away this time.

  "I... Do you trust me?"

  "Of course." She frowned. Why wouldn't she trust him?

  "You have to tell me the second you feel anything strange, anything out of the ordinary. Maybe if we catch the symptoms developing earlier there's hope."

  "I'd rather stop the symptoms from developing in the first place." She muttered. Slowly losing control of her own mind... She couldn't imagine how that would feel but she felt cold suddenly, even in the oppressive heat. She wrapped an arm around her core, trying to hold onto herself.

  "I think part of the problem is your abilities. When you're absorbing other people's memories, I think it's easy to get confused. Maybe the human brain isn't meant to hold more than one set of memories without fracturing."

  "Maybe they should have thought about that before they made us."

  Silence fell between them. It occurred to her that questioning her own existence probably wasn't the healthiest statement, psychologically speaking.

  "You could try visualizations. Maybe holding onto the core of your identity will help you avoid confusion."

  She nodded, listening.

  "Whenever you start slipping or feel stressed out, I want you to stop and think of five things - five incontrovertibly true things - about yourself."

  "That's it?" she raised an eyebrow. That's what his advice boiled down to, remember who you are and try not to go crazy in the process. That was helpful.

  She cleared her throat. "What happens if more of us fail?"

  "Further testing." He avoided her eyes.

  "And?"

  "Possibly... Going back to the drawing board. Genetically speaking."

  He didn't say it but it was clear enough. Going back to the drawing board would mean scrapping the current project. Her heart beat faster, the staccato beat forcing a rushing sound in her ears. Her face felt hot.

  She wasn't going to die.

  "Okay, thank you for calling me."

  "Stephanie-"

  She closed the conversation.

  The world around her slowly filtered back into her awareness. Sunlight filtering through the gaps in the trees. The ground, rocky and dry beneath her feet, scraggly grass clinging for purchase. The sound of some birds chirping in the distance. The low bass beat of music. The sound of someone laughing. Shouting.

  She sat down beside the tree, her bag falling off one shoulder to the ground. The bottle of alco-synth clanked against the tree. She pulled her knees up one by one and hugged them to her chest. She let her head fall against her knees and took a deep breath, trying to push the knot of panic down.

  She did not want to go to the lake party anymore.

  She slid the drawstring of her bag open and took a long swig of alco-synth. It fizzed on her tongue and tasted like sugar and blueberries. She leaned back, waiting for the warm haze to cloud her vision. She took another sip and forced herself to breathe slowly. The world took on a golden tint and she felt a warmth rush over her. The good kind of warmth, like sliding into a hot bath. Not the sickly heat of the day, sticking to her skin like spun sugar.

  Five incontrovertible truths, she thought. Bitterness flooded her then drained away, leached by the drink.

  Another sip.

  One, I go by Stephanie Orson but it may as well be Stephanie queen of the universe for all the truth that name contains.

  I am a succubus class genetic experiment.

  Batch two.

  My batch-sisters are going crazy.

  She needed another sip at that one, a long glug that burned as the bubbles hit her throat.

  She couldn't remember if that was three things or four. She went on anyway, deciding she'd count
them properly next time.

  Truth four-ish? I miss Caroline.

  Tears started to burn across her cheeks, scorching her skin.

  If Caroline's broken, what chance do I have? What chance do any of us have?

  She folded against her legs, her breath catching on a sob.

  Truth five; I'm really freaking scared.

  Chapter Two

  “Are you okay?"

  Stephanie looked up. A boy was standing over her, his shirtlessstate exposing tanned skin and a muscled chest. Dark hair tumbled over his forehead, falling into his dark eyes.

  "What?" She wiped her cheeks, smearing the tears away.

  "Stephanie, right? Did something happen? Your boyfriend?"

  "I don't have a boyfriend."

  He sat down next to her, leaning back against the tree. His arm brushed against hers and she felt his emotions brush against her mind. The contact was too light for her to get any details. But she felt safe and loved. It must have been nice to be him.

  "What was your name again?"

  "Laurent Tam," he offered a handshake and Stephanie hesitated. Her abilities were much stronger if she touched someone with her hands. She wasn't sure she should risk it.

  He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

  She took his hand, it was warm and dry.

  She remembered walking through the woods to the party. She was happy and nervous at the same time, a ball of anxious energy gathering in her core. Then she'd seen her, the new girl, sitting down on the edge of the woods. Her dark red hair glowed against her pale skin, and there was a lot of skin showing. She swallowed, throat dry, and walked towards her.

  Stephanie pulled her hand away.

  It took her a moment to clear her head.

  "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

  For a moment, she thought he was asking her about what she'd seen, his crush on her. But he couldn't possibly know what she was.

  She blinked. "It's my sister. Half-sister."

  "What happened?"

  "There was..." she couldn't tell him she was going insane.

  "An accident?"

  She nodded.

  "Is she okay?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Well, she's okay physically. But she hit her head and they're not sure if she's ever going to be the same again."

  "Do you think she'll need a memory implant?"

  "Um. I don't know. We're waiting for her to wake up."

  "Oh."

  "Yeah."

  "Do you have to... Are you going back to see her now?"

  She hesitated. She was already deviating from the cover story. Spencer Evans would be mad enough as it was if he found out.

  "It happened a while ago, actually. That's why I'm staying with my uncle. My parents want me to take a break from worrying about everything."

  "How's that working out for you?" He bumped his shoulder against hers.

  She choked on a laugh. Clearly, it wasn't going well.

  "Do I look like I've been crying?" she asked.

  He touched her cheek, wiping the last of her tears away gently with the pad of his thumb.

  "You look beautiful."

  Because he was touching her, she knew he meant it. She also knew that he wanted to kiss her. But she couldn't help thinking that the reason she was beautiful was because she'd been made in a lab. That some sleazy scientist designed her to have an hourglass figure and a symmetrical face. She shook her head, trying not to think about it. She was who she was, regardless of how she had been brought into the world.

  And some parts of her life were still hers to control.

  She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his. They were soft and warm. She sucked on his bottom lip and he groaned into her mouth, pulling her closer. She climbed over him, straddling him. His hands rested on her lower back, holding her close.

  She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and got caught in his thoughts, his desire for her mingling with her own in a feedback loop that left her hot and wanting.

  She pressed against him, gasping in surprise as she felt him against her. He moved away from her mouth, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck, to the soft hollow where her it met her shoulder and sucked on the skin there. Her pulse jumped and she went limp, head drifting to the side to give him more room.

  His hands fluttered across the skin at the small of her back, tracing patterns that made her skin tingle and heat pool at the base of her stomach. He wanted to touch her lower, to run his fingers up her thighs and slip his hands under the bottom edge of her shorts. She moved against him, wanting him to touch her as much as he wanted her.

  "Is there anywhere more private we can go?" she whispered.

  He murmured against her neck, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "There's a tree house on the other side of the lake."

  She smiled. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up. His eyes lingered on her. She turned around, bending to pick up her drink and her bag.

  She turned back, holding out her hand. "Are you coming?"

  * * *

  Golden light lanced across the floor of the tree house, falling through the entrance at a low angle. Dust mites danced in the air, twirling in patterns that mesmerized Stephanie. Laurent lay at her back, sleepy and relaxed, one arm thrown across her. The contact was enough to infuse her with his emotions but she was careful to keep her hands away. She didn't want to be overwhelmed by his thoughts right now. She didn't want to think of anything.

  She sighed.

  The brief escape had been fun while it lasted but it was time to return to reality.

  She pulled away from Laurent. The knitted quilt on the floor of the tree house tangled at her feet and she kicked at it. She stood up, searching for her swimsuit in the dim light. Laurent watched her through half closed eyes.

  She pulled her clothes on, feeling suddenly shy as she got dressed. Putting her clothes on felt more intimate than taking them off had. She turned her back to him as she stepped into her shorts. She wasn't looking for intimacy.

  "We never made it to the party. People will be wondering where we are," she said.

  Laurent stretched. "People are free to guess."

  She picked up her bag. The empty bottle clanked as it bumped against her hip. The buzz from the alco-synth was already wearing off. It was designed to give a short high with fewer side-effects than the real thing, but she still felt cold and shivery as she sobered up. She hugged her arms around herself, wondering how it was possible to feel so cold when she knew the weather was oppressively hot.

  "Well, I'm still going to this party. If you want to come with me, you might want to get dressed." She climbed down without looking at him.

  The wooden boards that were hammered into the tree made a narrow ladder and she placed her feet carefully on the way down.

  She stood for a moment, wondering if she should wait for Laurent or if she should go without him. She felt jittery and angry suddenly, and wasn't quite sure why. She didn't want to wait.

  She started walking back toward the lake.

  She heard something thud against the ground behind her. Laurent muttered curse words in the local dialect, the memories she'd stolen from him were the only reason she could understand. He jogged to catch up with her.

  "Did I do something wrong?"

  "No."

  "Is that one of those no’s that mean yes or one of those no means no kind of things?"

  She frowned. "What?"

  A distant scream pierced the air.

  Stephanie turned to Laurent, eyes wide. "Did that sound like a happy scream to you?"

  He shook his head.

  She broke into a jog, heading toward the lake.

  When she got there, it took a moment to figure out what was wrong. Everyone was clustered in a wide circle, like they were afraid to get too close to something, yet couldn't stay away.

  Stephanie pushed through the crowd to see what it was. Conflicting emotions washed throug
h her as she brushed past different people. Her throat tightened. Her heart beat faster. Her mouth went dry. She felt hot then cold in quick succession. It wasn't until she made it to the edge of the crowd and broke into the center that she could breathe again.

  She took a deep breath and looked at the ground.

  A young woman with dark hair lay crumpled on the ground in front of her. She was wearing a long, pale blue dress, with sleeves that covered her arms. It was stained dark red. A smell, almost like copper wires, hung in the air.

  Stephanie's throat closed over.

  "Did anyone call an ambulance?" she forced out.

  Everyone stared at her as though she'd said something insane. It was obvious that they were all thinking the same thing and she didn't need to touch them to find out. She was an outsider. She wasn't from around here. If she was, she'd know why they were all standing around watching this woman die instead of helping her.

  Stephanie grabbed the girl next to her. "Why aren't you helping her?"

  "She's a naturalist," the girl shrugged.