A Local Habitation
Page 88

“Don’t touch that!” April vanished, reappearing next to me with a crackle of static as she snatched the rabbit out of my reach. Glaring over the top of its head, she said, “This is mine. My mother gave it to me.”
“I’m sorry.” I held up my hands, palms outward. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“My mother always buys me rabbits.” She stroked the bunny’s head, looking down at it. “Every time she goes somewhere I can’t follow, she brings me another rabbit. I like rabbits.”
“I can tell.”
“She’ll bring me many rabbits this time, because she didn’t tell me she was leaving.”
“April . . .” I wasn’t sure what to say. There was a good chance that she’d been killing people. Was it still a crime if she didn’t understand what she’d done? “April, you understand she’s not coming back this time, don’t you?”
“Of course she’s coming back.” She looked up, eyes wide and guileless. “We just have to find a way to bring her back online.”
“Honey, people don’t work that way.” I struggled against the urge to comfort her the way I would have comforted Dare or Quentin, and shook my head. “She’s gone.”
“I work that way, and she’s my mother. She’s coming back for me.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
She glared. “No, you don’t understand. It’s going to work this time.”
That was the opening I’d been waiting for. “You killed those people, didn’t you?” I asked, keeping my voice measured and calm.
“I didn’t mean to!” April protested, looking every inch the wounded child. “I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. It wasn’t supposed to go that way.”
“But you did hurt them. You took them off the network.” I started inching toward the server. If she made any sudden moves, I was going to find out just how fast I could kick those plugs out of the back of the machine. “We never got around to searching the spots where the bodies were found, but that wouldn’t have mattered, would it? What did you do?”
“I didn’t know it would happen.”
“That doesn’t matter, honey. They’re still dead. How did they die?”
“It was supposed to be all right! No one was supposed to get hurt!” She clutched the rabbit to her chest, eyes filling with strangely fractal tears. “I didn’t know you broke so easily. It was supposed to be an upgrade.”
“I need some answers, April,” I said, gently. She probably meant what she was saying; she hadn’t known what she was doing, and Gordan took advantage of her ignorance. That didn’t change what they’d done. “I need to know how you killed them.”
“That’s why you’re here! You’re going to fix things! Bring them back on the network!”
“I can’t. No one can do that.”
“I—”
“You had to know they weren’t coming back. April, you killed your mother.”
The change in her was incredible. Suddenly furious, she straightened, shouting, “I did not! I tried to tell you! That wasn’t me!”
I hadn’t been expecting that. “What?”
“I wouldn’t! I said no! And so . . . so . . . she did it without me. I didn’t help. I didn’t hurt my mommy!” Her voice broke as she began to sob, burying her face against the rabbit.
I stared at her. April thought she was somehow helping the people they attacked. Jan died differently. Jan had time to fight. Of course April didn’t help—she couldn’t have done that to her mother. Gordan killed Jan. April might not understand what they were doing, but Gordan did. When April wouldn’t do as she was told, Gordan acted alone. She killed Jan, and she was somewhere in the knowe, unguarded . . . and Connor was alone with Quentin, unarmed.
“April, where’s Gordan? We need to find her—we need to stop her before she—”
April shook her head, going calm again. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. I have to bring my mother back. If I stop Gordan, she won’t help me reinstall her properly.”
“Please. She can’t come back. We don’t work that way.”
“There are flaws in the process and her casing was damaged, but Gordan says the limits of the hardware can be overcome. We can download her to a new server. We can try again.”
“April, please, you have to stop. If you help us catch Gordan, I can make sure you’re safe. It wasn’t your fault. You were used, you didn’t understand.” I meant it, too. She could be protected. It would be hard, but root and branch, I’d find a way. I owed it to Jan.
“I . . .” She hesitated, eyes more pained than any living eyes should be. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone . . . but I need my mother. I don’t know how to take care of myself.”
“April—” I reached for her, hoping I could hold her, but it was too late: she was gone.
The stuffed rabbit hung in the air for a moment, seeming suspended. Then gravity took hold, and it fell. April didn’t reappear. I hadn’t really expected her to—she was running away, after all—and that meant I had to run after her. That’s my job. Leaving the rabbit on the floor, I bolted for the door, and I didn’t look back.
I could have disconnected her server, removed her from the playing field, but without Jan to help us turn her back on, I wasn’t sure she’d survive. I wasn’t going to avenge Sylvester’s niece by killing her only child, no matter how misguided that child’s actions had been.
The others were waiting where I’d left them. Thank Oberon for small favors. They all straightened as I reappeared, but it was Tybalt who spoke first, asking, “Toby? What’s wrong?”
“April and Gordan are our killers. Gordan convinced her that it wasn’t murder, it was an ‘upgrade.’ Only the process doesn’t work, and when April refused to help her kill Jan, Gordan did it on her own.” I wheeled on Elliot, stabbing my finger toward him. “What am I missing? What haven’t you told me? Talk fast. There isn’t much time.” I was already starting toward the futon room, taking long, ground-eating strides. “Tybalt, can you take the Shadows?”
“They’re warded against me,” he said, pacing me easily. “I can’t access them.”