Julia awoke to find herself strapped to a chair. There was a heavy strap around her chest and one around her head. Two went around her arms, one around her stomach, and one around her legs. Her body felt limp and she resisted the urge to vomit. She tried to move her hand but found that her fingers would not respond to her commands. Her fingers were curled under her palm. Her head threatened to tip forward, but for the strap restraining her.
A light snapped on and Julia instinctively flinched. Her head went back against the back of the chair, hard, and the cried out in pain.
Someone approached her, blotted out by the bright light. "Hello, love," he said, and a hand gently brushed hers. "We've been waiting for you."
"Dad?" Julia asked.
"And now that you're here," he continued, "we've got to make sure you don't run off."
Julia didn't feel up to running anywhere. She frowned at whoever was speaking.
"This should help," said the someone. The light dimmed, and Julia was staring at her father. He smiled at her. "Hello, honey."
Julia tried to speak but her mouth wouldn't work. She leaned back against the chair, feeling her body go slack. Then someone was behind her, taking her hair in their hands and braiding it gently.
"Say hello, Julia," her father said. "Wouldn't want to be rude, would you?"
Julia opened her mouth as the second someone stepped around the front of the chair. She had to try hard to muster the one word she spat out. "Irina."
"That's right, love. My, you do look just like your mother," Irina said. She gently stroked Julia's dark hair. "Doesn't she just seem to be the spitting image of Sydney, Michael? A little Bristow." To Julia she said, "Technically you've got the best of everything, sweetheart. You're Derevko and Vaughn, too." She stood and walked away from the chair.
"What now?" Vaughn asked.
"Get the supplies, I guess," Irina answered. "Anton will be here any minute and we don't have much time. They'll be right on her trail."
Vaughn moved out of the circle of light and towards a table dimly lit by a camping lantern. He began to gather mesh baskets, which he set next to Julia' s feet. Irina reappeared, carrying a blanket-wrapped bundle.
By this time Julia was regaining feeling in her hands. She clenched her fingers and made a tight fist, then relaxed.
A door slammed open. Julia flinched back against the chair. A tall, portly man with a neatly waxed dark black mustache strode into the room. He stopped directly in front of Julia. "Not much of a prize, eh?" he said in badly accented English.
"Here," Irina said, and handed him a vial filled with dark green liquid.
"Anton," Julia managed to spit.
"Ha-ha!" the man laughed. "A winner, I see." In Russian, obviously not thinking Julia would understand, he said, "Is she ready? None of this will be worth this if she's not ready."
"Oh, stop worrying, Anton," Irina snapped in Russian.
"It doesn't work; she can understand you!" Vaughn said loudly in English.
The others turned to regard Julia. Anton tossed the vial from hand to hand nervously. "Ah," he said. "Well, do not delay, start! Start, Irina!" He clapped his hands together impatiently.
"Hold her arm," Irina directed Vaughn, who moved quickly to do so. Julia struggled against her father's hands, which were large, cold, and rough.
Irina took the vial from Anton and poured the liquid into a small plastic dish. Julia closed her eyes. She could hear her grandmother breathing slowly, rhythmically. She took a deep breath and held it, like a swimmer going under.
"There," Anton said a few seconds later, as something cold pressed against Julia's arm. "It is perfect."
Julia opened her eyes to see a green star, dripping on her arm. "Is it…" she struggled to speak, "… permanent?"
"Of course!" Anton guffawed loudly. "Though it is a pity your arms are so… scarred."
"Mom," Julia said.
"Don't worry, she'll see you soon," Irina said gently. "She won't be mad; we'll tell her about the plan."
Vaughn came over to Julia and moved to brush her hair away from her eyes. "You're so beautiful," he said.
"Thank you," Julia said angrily, turning her head away from her father.
Irina had turned to Anton and they were talking in low tones. Anton clapped his hands quickly, three times. He seemed excited about something. "Da, da," he said. "Perfect."
"Let's go," Vaughn said, untying the ropes binding Julia. Her body went slack and she fell forward, her father catching her just in time. "I'll help you," he offered, putting his hands under her arms and pulling her out of the chair. She pulled her arms away and flopped to the floor, ashamed and angry at her traitorous body.
Irina stepped over to where her granddaughter was lying on the floor and gently helped the girl up. "It's all right. Here, let me help you."
They took Julia out in the rain to a black minivan. There were two people already in the van – a skinny, artistic-looking young man with a pierced lip and eyebrow and tousled black hair, and a supremely beautiful woman with hair like a waterfall of corn silk.
Irina addressed them. "Alex, Quinn, this is Julia. She is to be taken to the Second House in Anteca. She is not to be harmed. We'll follow you in the truck."
The young man nodded and moved to twist the key in the ignition. The woman smiled, if a bit eerily, at Julia. Her teeth were perfectly even and very white. Julia thought they looked like little mints. "We'll take care of her," Alex said. He, too, smiled at Julia.
Irina buckled Julia into the van and slammed the door. Alex threw the van into gear. "We've been waiting a long time for you," he said. "Now that you've got the Mark, we can tell you everything about the Society."
Julia's arms had regained most of their motion. She made a fist. "Well, I don't…. care."
"You will. Your dad told us how smart you are and how much you like computers. You can help us. We'll introduce you to Hector, he's our genius with computers," Alex continued, sounding like an eager puppy.
"Hush, Alex," Quinn said, placing her slim hand on his arm.
He turned out of a long driveway and onto a dirt road, made muddy with the rain. Trees were thick and overhanging, creating the feeling of an oppressive canopy. The rain dripped down on the van and oozed into the ground, creating huger puddles.
They drove for at least twenty minutes. Julia forgot to count the time it took. Quinn and Alex didn't talk, but she could tell Alex wanted to. He drove on in silence, though, eventually turning down a cobblestone lane. At the far end of the lane was a red barn with a bright green door. Alex pulled the van next to a small blue Mitsubishi. "Welcome," he said dramatically, "to the home of the Society of the Closed Fist."
Julia closed her eyes. They couldn't make her see something if she didn't want to.