Frozen Desires (Asylums for Magical Threats 2)

“And how do you expect to do that? It’s not like we have scuba gear for you to sneak under the hull, or some other type of sneaky spy trick.”

“Leave that to me.” Jorge remained skeptical. Marco added, “We’re in front of an ocean, and I’m an elemental water first-born. You do the math.”

“I could say that we’re in front of a marina, and I can sail a boat, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to sail away to freedom.”

Marco slid out of the car and squatted down so that his head wouldn’t show. “Your pessimistic attitude explains a lot, but I have experience with this, so let me handle it. I know what I’m doing.”

He didn’t wait for Jorge’s snarky reply, but shut the door as quietly as he could and inched to the rear of the car.

Planting a tracking device wasn’t his main aim. Rather, he wanted to let Camilla know that she wasn’t alone, and that he was going to help her if she needed it.

Ekstrom had left about thirty minutes ago to run a few last minute errands. Jorge knew the guard on duty, and after a quick call and some blackmailing, the guard had agreed to not investigate any noises coming from the water for thirty minutes. Marco wasn’t about to let the man see his face, but he had other ways of contacting Cam without boarding the boat.

Using the shadows to his advantage, he made his way to the marina. Confident the coast was clear, he walked to the water’s edge and dove into the sea.

The ocean was chilly, but the night air was warm. Having grown up near the Colombian coast, Marco had no trouble making his way to the first boat on the same dock as his target. He stopped and listened for noises while he checked for any signs of life before moving to the next boat. He continued stopping behind each one until he reached the tenth boat, which was the one that should have Cam on board.

He took out the small waterproofed tracking chip he’d picked up from his contact on his the way to Campeche, and affixed it to the underside of the window. No sooner was the chip in place than the window opened, and someone tossed something into the water; the smell told him it was vomit.

He was about to move his position when he heard, “Fucking hell.”

He froze—that was Cam’s voice.

The window stayed opened, but Marco waited to see if she was alone. But apart from the sounds of dry heaving, he heard nothing. He’d been careful to make sure no one on deck was facing this side of the boat before swimming up. He was tempted to talk to her, but considering Jorge had negotiated with blackmail, he wasn’t going to risk it.

Instead, he created an ice flower on the windowsill—the same carnation as he’d made back in the park—and waited for Cam to return to the window. Except with each minute that ticked by, Marco knew he was putting himself in greater danger of discovery.

Hoping that he was right about her being alone, he sent a stream of water into the room, and then back out to land into the ocean. A few seconds later, he saw her fingers tracing the petals of his flower. Knowing she’d seen his message, he melted the flower and started swimming back to shore.

After nearly six hours of driving through the mountain roads of Sichuan province in mainland China, Gio nearly bolted out of the car when their driver finally stopped in front of the AMT research facility entrance.

He might finally find some answers here.

He’d managed to sleep on the plane ride to Chengdu—the nearest airport to this place—but as he glanced at Dr. William Evans, he reckoned that the researcher hadn’t slept in days. If he didn’t do something about that soon, Evans wouldn’t be able to help him in the future.

The driver unlocked the doors and he motioned for Evans to exit the car. The pair of them headed toward the heavily guarded entrance, where a man stepped forward and gave a slight bow of his head in greeting. “Welcome, Mr. Sinclair. My name is Liang, and I manage this facility.” He motioned toward the door. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

Gio nodded and followed. Liang was middle-aged, and shorter than even Dr. Chan back in Hong Kong. While his outward demeanor was calm, Gio wasn’t about to dismiss the man—his father probably had Liang watching him. He needed to be careful about what he said or did. He didn’t want to be reassigned before he found out the truth.

He still had no idea what he’d do if he found out they were mistreating the Feiru children he suspected they kept here, especially if Gio discovered that his father already knew about it. James Sinclair’s support and influence were powerful things, and it wouldn’t be easy to work around them.

Don’t think about that yet. There was still a chance that his father was ignorant of the pediatrics facilities, where they hid all of the children born inside the AMT compounds. Many of the children were the results of experiments conducted clinically with the first-borns, but Gio had a feeling at least some of the children were the result of rape.

He still believed in the good intentions of the AMT—to keep first-borns from harming themselves or others—but somewhere along the line, corruption had taken hold.

He didn’t think dismantling the AMT system was the answer, but there had to be a better way of doing things. He hoped he could come up with an alternative solution while he was here.

As they walked down the long steel corridor, there were no outward signs of this being anything other than a research facility. If he wanted to find out information, he needed to start asking questions. “Is this the empty wing I was told about back in Hong Kong?”

Liang nodded. “When there used to be activity here, visiting researchers and inspectors had needed a place to stay. I’ve assigned you to the biggest spare rooms. Since any employee that stays full-time at this facility stays in one of the other wings, you’ll have this section to yourself.”

If the rumors were true, he doubted that any inspectors had ever come to this place. But he kept his mouth shut.

As they continued to walk down the long hallway, Gio noticed the numbers above the doors. Unlike the AMT compound he’d seen back in Scotland, the numbers here weren’t sequential, and jumped around in no discernible pattern. He knew Liang wouldn’t tell him the meaning of the numbers, but he could aim for more general questions. “When was the last time you used this wing?”

Liang glanced at him. “A few years ago, at least. The number of mentally disabled first-borns holds steady, and the other potential inmates—first-borns with mutated abilities—have been pretty much nonexistent for the last few decades. But if what I’ve heard about the emergence of strange abilities is true, then I look forward to filling this wing again.”

There was an undertone of glee to Liang’s words, and Gio started to get a bad feeling about the research facility manager. Could he enjoy mistreating the prisoners here? He added that to his ever-growing list of questions.