When he had completed his story he was met with looks of blatant skepticism.
"You could have just said you didn't want to say anything, then sent me packing," Vincent grumbled, pinching the flesh between his eyebrows.
"You cannot tell if you are dreaming or not?" Constance asked, horrified.
"I would say I am as wide awake as the two of you appear to be," he admitted, "yet…there is still something so odd, so peculiar about this entire scenario-"
"They have pills for that at the looney bin," Vincent said, only half joking.
"Constance, you can verify everything that you yourself have witnessed."
"That is so," she said, looking down at her hands in her lap. "We don't believe she is entirely human."
"So she's a Nazi experiment? Another one?"
"I have not positively ascertained that," Pendergast admitted. "But you are welcome to see for yourself…."
"So she has no body hair and doesn't talk coherently. That makes her…genetically superior or something?"
"She doesn't feel pain."
"There's a disease like that right? People who can't feel pain. They get their legs and arms broken and get burned in the bathtub and stuff."
"Yes," Pendergast said. "I tried to find a report of a missing girl with that illness. Nothing came up."
"But…we don't know how long she's actually been missing for," the police officer pointed out. "Maybe it hasn't been that long." Standing, he rocked back and forth on his feet, then mentioned, "I can't believe you smelled her boot."
"Vincent…I don't know how to prove to you what I've said. She's…something extraordinary. There may be people after her now. Looking for her. She speaks of being tested in a laboratory…."
"Clearly, this upsets you," D'Agosta mentioned. "I'm not certain I've ever seen you worked up over something so much before. Do you want I should find a place for her while I try and find out where she might be missing from?"
Pendergast drew his lower lip between his teeth and looked pensive. "I…am not certain it is safe for her to remain here…and yet I'd like more time to try and figure her out."
The cop sighed. "Your call."
The pale man lifted a hand to his upper lip and stood still, thinking. There was a flicker in the entranceway, and soon Proctor made an appearance, checking to ensure that all of the doors and windows were secure. "Another storm on the way, sir," he said, entering the room.
Amanda stood slightly in front of Pendergast, watching D'Agosta. She had kept herself between the two the entire time. "Draw down on me, Vincent."
"Do what?"
"Indulge me," the agent urged quietly. He glanced toward Proctor, who stood at attention, and Constance, who leaned forward in her chair out of morbid curiosity.
"You know you should never-"
"Keep your finger away from the trigger. Just hold it and point."
"I don't like this," Vincent said, pulling his sidearm from his shoulder holster beneath his jacket. He stared at the girl the entire time. His arm extended. He blinked at the blur he'd just seen. He felt a searing pain in his chest followed by a sickening lurch and choked on his reply.
There was a gasp, a whisper, and Pendergast stepped forward, mouth open in astonishment.
Amanda's face was cold, her pale eyes glittering up at the cop's contorted features. Vincent kicked wildly in the air, clawing at his chest. Spittle flew from his lips. He could feel his blood pressure spiking. As he struggled ineffectually he saw his friend glide forward and feel the girl's bicep. She was stock-still, not even straining. He gripped her upper arm and eased it upward slightly, then down again, amazed while D'Agosta coughed and spluttered. "Put him down," the agent whispered, guiding her arm gently. The girl never shifted position, never let on that she was anything weaker than a commercial-sized manufacturing robot. D'Agosta's flailing feet touched the floor and he wheezed a sound of terrified relief, but continued clawing at the girl's fist, then struck her arm with the full force of his fists. "Release him," spoke the cadaverous man, and her fist opened automatically.
D'Agosta wanted to attack her. His firearm had hit the floor. He turned away, bent, clutching at his chest while the older woman gasped and tried to attend him.
Proctor came at the teenager in a dead sprint and found himself slammed into one of the built-in bookcases upside-down while Aloysius commanded her to stop. She turned to look him in the eyes and query, "Are you okay?" He stared back at her incredulously, his heart racing, and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling like he was moving in slow motion.
"I am fine," he told her haltingly, astonished by the fact she wasn't breathing hard, her pupil size remained the same, and her skin had failed to flush with exhilaration. "Don't move."
He turned to make certain his chauffer was okay. The man had hit the floor shoulder-first and groaned there, his backside still partially propped up against shattered shelving, fallen volumes surrounding him. "Proctor?"
"I'll…live," the man replied.
Pendergast hurried to his friend's side. "Your heart! Are you okay?"
"'snot my heart," he grunted, breathing hard, pressing his hands to his solar plexus. "She had hold of my goddamned skin!"
Constance and Aloysius worked to help open the man's shirt and lift his badly stretched undershirt, exposing a chest covered in broad marks beginning to turn purple-black.
"Amanda," Pendergast breathed, shaken by her awesome display of superhuman speed and strength.
"Yes?" she answered from so close beside him that he jumped.
"How…did…could…?"
"Gun," she told him, shrugging.
"I asked him to point his gun at me. I had no idea you would…do this to him."
"You knew she'd do something," D'Agosta accused, trying to move away from the two.
"Let me get you cold compresses," Constance said, moving for the doorway.
"Get me the hell outta here!" Vincent growled, staggering toward the exit.
"Not to shoot you?" the teen asked the pale man.
"He would never shoot me! We are friends! And I assure you young lady that I choose to keep only a very select few!"
She set her jaw and approached D'Agosta while his eyes went wide and he tried to hurry away from her. Pendergast angrily stepped in her path and she pushed him aside like a shower curtain. "You I'd shoot!" Vincent told her, turning to scramble for the door.
"Leave him alone!" Aloysius commanded angrily, grabbing her around the waist and getting dragged for his efforts.
Constance reappeared with one of Pendergast's handguns pointed at the girl. "He told you to leave him alone! Stop! Stop now or I'll shoot!"
Pendergast released the girl. "No!" he blurted at his ward.
"She's dangerous!" she informed him sternly.
"Don't provoke her!" he pleaded, catching up to her just as she reached his friend.
"No!" Vincent groaned, spinning toward her when she seized his arm. Amanda placed a palm flat against his heaving chest and lowered her head, closing her eyes. D'Agosta flailed at her, not even able to muss her hair, before his breathing slowed and he began to straighten up again.
Constance and Aloysius drew nearer, watching the lines of color shrink and fade from Vincent's tormented skin. He relaxed until he nearly looked drowsy, lifting a hand to run through his own wild hair. Looking at the spectators, he asked breathlessly, "What the hell is this?"
"Are you okay?" Constance asked, reaching to pull at the girl's wrist.
"Vincent," Pendergast tried, "I had no idea, I assure you-"
"I know," he said. "Otherwise, she'd a killed me…whatever the hell she is." His breath caused the hairs on her head to move, but she remained in contact with him until even the woman trying to pry her away yawned and blinked furiously, trying to stave off sleep.
"Aloysius?" Constance asked softly.
"I think he's okay," he told the girl softly. She opened her eyes and stepped away from him. The police officer's flesh was unmarked, his breathing normal.
He nodded thankfully, then looked worriedly at the teenager.
"Amanda…would you tend to Proctor?" the agent asked.
She turned and left them, kneeling beside the large man who had slumped to the floor, trying to sit up but experiencing pain.
"I don't know what you found or how it got here," Vincent whispered, "but it's dangerous as hell. I think it's some kind of a weapon. I think you're crazy to keep messing with it. Someone's looking for that baby, and they'll probably use it against you when they find it."
"Clearly, it is a she," Pendergast responded.
"Whatever. It's not something any one of us needs to be messing with. Now let's see if I can take it with me-"
"No," Pendergast told him, watching the girl work her magic on his bodyguard. "She cannot be a weapon. Weapons don't heal."
"Well, whatever the hell she is," he spat, "you don't wanna be messing with her."
Constance said, "I don't feel safe with her here."
"See? Someone with sense," D'Agosta told him.
"She was protecting me. I knew she probably would, though not to the extent she did… She even allowed me to command her-""
"She tossed you aside like a used tissue!" Constance reminded him.
"She didn't hurt me."
"She didn't listen to your command to leave Vincent alone!"
Proctor was rising to his feet uncertainly, clearly not hurt, though undoubtedly still stunned.
"I…believe she…."
"Oh, come on!" Vincent growled at him, then caught a glimpse of the teenager staring at him. "It's okay, sweetheart, we're just having a nice conversation!" He smiled and waved at her.
"Are you in on this?" Pendergast asked suddenly.
"Am what?"
"Are you in on this? You know nearly everything that I do. I could use your assistance. I might…need your help."
"Oh, for Christ's sake," the cop grumbled. "I knew this wouldn't be a simple courtesy call."
"If you would just run the information I'll give you…what little I know. Take her photograph—I can't fingerprint her."
"Give me the hair and I can run DNA."
Pendergast looked reluctant, then realized he could always gather a fresh one if need be. "Constance," he said.
"I really don't want her here," she told him.
"Then perhaps you should return upstate to await further word from me."
She looked troubled. "I'd rather not leave you."
"Jesus lady," D'Agosta blurted, "you think you can stop a charging elephant?"
Amanda cocked her head. Proctor slowly made his way away from her. As he approached the other three, he asked, "What just happened?"
"I'll keep her in the basement," Pendergast sighed. "Until someone shows up for her…or we hear something from you, Vincent."
"You're going to keep her?" Proctor asked, rolling his eyes heavenward before making his way to a bathroom so he could check on himself and clean himself up.
"If she's a robot, she might have a homing device, she could be recording you," Vincent pointed out.
"More than ever, I believe that may be what she is. Some kind of a living…mechanoid. Even Alban didn't have such strength."
"Then you might be a target," Vincent said. "I could find a reason to lock her up."
"I am reluctant to give up on her so easily."
"She may have been sent to find you," Constance told him. "Possibly to eliminate you."
"She's had ample opportunity to do so."
"What if she's malfunctioning?"
"Then perhaps I can find a way to utilize her for myself."
Vincent sighed and shook his head. "You're keeping her."
"I am unafraid of anyone who might come looking for her."
"What if it's another one just like her?"
He recalled her mentioning a Quasar 200. "Then I shall take my chances."
Vincent groaned, "I knew he was gonna say that."
"I'll stay in the basement," Constance said, and the lights dimmed momentarily as the storm neared. She met his look with, "I'd rather she remain easy to locate should someone home in on her whereabouts."
Pendergast smiled grimly. "As you wish. If Proctor is okay, you can have him help you set up a comfortable area."
She looked at him sadly. "I will always be on the verge of losing you, won't I?"
He touched her cheek lightly, then apologized again to D'Agosta.
"No marks," the other man mentioned, smoothing his clothes back into place. Won't have to go into too much detail for Laura."
"Give her my best," Pendergast said.
"Yeah, yeah. Jesus Christ…what a freakin' nuthouse," the cop joked weakly.