Powering Up

Elena shoved the tablet into her waistband, covering it with her cardigan. She pressed herself against the chimney bricks, holding her breath. The trapdoor groaned as it opened fully, revealing the top of a ladder.

A head appeared. Not a guard. Not Julian.

It was Seraphina.

She wasn't dressed in her usual silk. She wore jeans and a black turtleneck, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. She carried a flashlight in one hand and a trash bag in the other.

Elena watched from the shadows. Seraphina wasn't searching. She was cleaning.

Seraphina moved to the far corner, to a stack of old accounting ledgers. She started dumping them into the bag. *1998. 1999. 2000.*

She was erasing the history.

Elena’s eyes darted to the tablet charger still plugged into the outlet. The cord snaked across the floor, disappearing behind the dress form. If Seraphina saw it...

Seraphina stopped. She sniffed the air. The attic smelled of dust and mold, but also something else. Something fresher.

Sweat. And the faint, ozone smell of charging electronics.

Seraphina turned, her flashlight beam sweeping the room. It passed over the water heater, the dress form, the chimney.

Elena shrank back. The brick was rough against her spine.

"Mice," Seraphina muttered to herself. She went back to the ledgers.

Elena waited until the bag was full. Seraphina dragged it to the trapdoor, grunting with the effort, and pushed it down. She climbed down after it.

The trapdoor closed.

Elena let out a breath that was half sob. She scrambled out from behind the chimney. The tablet was dead again, the charge insufficient to keep it running once unplugged. She needed a real charge. And she needed to get out of the attic before Seraphina came back for the second load.

She crawled to the trapdoor and listened. Silence.

She pushed it open an inch. The hallway below was empty.

She climbed down, the tablet heavy against her skin. She couldn't go back to the guest house. Leo said they were watching the perimeter. She couldn't go to her room.

She needed a place with power and privacy.

The server room.

It was crazy. It was the most guarded room in the house. But it was also the only room with a dedicated, isolated power grid. And she knew how to get in.

She retraced her steps to the wine cellar, moving like a ghost through the back corridors. The house was quiet, the staff busy preparing for the 'medical transport' that was scheduled for noon.

She reached the cellar. The air was still cold, still vibrating with the hum of the servers next door. She squeezed through the broken wine rack and back into the plenum.

She crawled to the grate. The server room was empty. Julian was gone.

She pushed the grate. It was screwed in from the other side, but the screws were loose. Maintenance had been lax.

She used the edge of the tablet to work the screws. One. Two.

The grate popped loose. She slid it aside and dropped into the server room.

It was freezing. The blue lights blinked indifferent rhythms.

She scanned the room. There was a maintenance console in the corner. It had a USB port. And a power outlet.

She plugged the tablet in.

The screen lit up.

**5%.**

It was enough.

She opened the email app again. She needed to forward the video. She needed to send it to someone who couldn't be bought.

She typed in the address of the New York Times investigative desk.

*Send.*

**Error. No Internet Connection.**

Of course. The server room was air-gapped. No wifi. No cellular.

To send the file, she needed to connect the tablet to the main server.

But connecting an outside device would trigger an immediate alert. Constance would know instantly.

She had to override the alarm.

She looked at the main console. It was locked. *Bio-Scan Required.*

She didn't have Constance’s eyes.

But she had the tablet. And on the tablet was Isabel’s login.

*[email protected]*

Isabel had been the administrator before Elena. Her credentials might still be valid in the legacy system. The system that ran the core functions. Like the alarm.

Elena plugged the tablet into the console.

A window popped up on the main screen.

**External Device Detected.**
**User ID: Isabel.H**
**Status: Deceased.**
**Account Archived.**

*Damn it.*

But then, a second window.

**Legacy Protocol Activated.**
**Welcome, Isabel.**

The system didn't care she was dead. It only cared that her key was valid.

Elena typed furiously. *Disable Alarm. Disable Network Lock.*

*Processing...*

The blue lights on the server rack turned green. The air gap was bridged. The internet was live.

She hit *Send* on the tablet.

**Sending... 10%... 20%...**

The door to the server room beeped.

Elena froze. She hadn't touched the door.

The retinal scanner flashed green.

**Access Granted: Constance Hawthorne.**

The heavy steel door swung open.

Constance stood there. She wasn't alone. Seraphina was with her. And Dr. Thorne.

Constance looked at the tablet plugged into the console. She looked at the progress bar on the screen.

**50%...**

She smiled.

"Did you really think," Constance said, stepping into the room, "that I wouldn't have an alert for her login?"

She pulled a phone from her pocket.

**Location Shared with Constance Hawthorne.**

"We tracked the tablet the moment you turned it on in the attic," she said. "We just wanted to see who you were sending it to."

She looked at Dr. Thorne.

"Sedate her. Heavily. She's delusional."