Free Flame by Amy Kathleen Ryan

plotting his murder. He stared back at her, fearless.
    Waverly finally started to believe at least part of what the doctor had said. He wanted to topple Anne Mather. Judging from the way Mather was watching him, beads of sweat moistening the small hairs on her upper lip, he’d already begun.
    Waverly looked at the old man sitting next to her, his maleficent glare, the way his fingers dug like claws into the wooden arms of his chair. Like it or not, whoever he was, Waverly had just cast her lot with him.
    “Waverly,” the old man said as he struggled out of his chair, “I wonder if you’d lend me an arm.”
    Waverly stood, feeling awkward under the watchful glare of Anne Mather, and took hold of his elbow. Under the rough fabric of his woven jacket, his arm felt surprisingly alive with wiry strength. “Good-bye, Anne,” he said as he straightened his back and looked down at her in triumph.
    “Good-bye, Wesley,” Mather muttered. Her fear seemed to have left her, and she looked at him with a loathing that seemed rooted in a great deal of time and experience.
    Waverly walked out with the old man, acutely aware of his thumbnail, thickened and discolored, as it dug into the flesh of her elbow. He steered her toward the elevators, holding up a single finger to the armed guards who started to follow them. To Waverly’s surprise, the men went back to stand outside Mather’s office door.
    The old man said nothing, seeming to wait for Waverly to speak. “Have you found out anything about what’s wrong with my mom?” she finally asked.
    “I have.” Carver glanced at her with jiggling red eyeballs. “As far as I understand, most of the Empyrean crew has been medically lobotomized.”
    With her free hand, Waverly wrapped her sweater around herself more tightly. “What does that mean, exactly?”
    “A lobotomy severs the connection between the prefrontal cortex and the rest of the brain.”
    “ What? ” she shrieked just as they passed an open office door. A red-haired man seated at the desk looked up irritably from his portable reader.
    “I said it was done medically. ” He held up a finger, then pressed the elevator call button. “ Medicinally. ”
    “With drugs,” she said softly. “So it’s reversible?”
    “I might be able to design an antidote, given the right incentives.”
    Waverly wished she could pull her arm away from him. “Why didn’t Mather do that to me?”
    Carver smiled with half his face so that he looked distorted, as though she were watching him through a vortex. “She still might, I suppose. Unless you do something to stop her.”
    Waverly pressed her free hand into the pit of her stomach. “I feel sick.”
    “I don’t blame you,” the man said, feigning sympathy, though he looked delighted. “Don’t you see, Waverly, why I want to put an end to these monstrosities? Don’t you see how much we need you?”
    The elevator bell sounded, and the doors slid open. From inside came three pregnant women dressed in farm coveralls, giggling together.
    “You say you might be able to design an antidote? For my mom, and the others?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Depends.”
    “On what?”
    “On you, Waverly. Anne Mather would hardly let me reanimate her flock of tamed doves if she remains in power. But if you give us the testimony we need…”
    “Okay,” she finally said. “All right. I’ll do it.”
    “Good.” He let go of her arm, and as she stepped onto the elevator, she felt the blood rushing into her fingertips.
    He blocked the elevator door with his cane as he beckoned Mather’s guards. They rushed to comply and stepped onto the elevator with Waverly. The doctor turned his back on her before the elevator doors closed.

 
    THE DEVIL YOU KNOW
     
    Kieran had just finished shaving, a ritual he still performed though it seemed poignantly futile. He was still haunted by the reunion of the Empyrean children, unable to sleep, hating himself for being unable to help the orphans. As a