Codename: Night Witch Read Free Page B

the tiles on the floor. She had no memory of this place. None whatsoever. Yet somehow she knew—and she was convinced of it beyond a shadow of a doubt—this wasn't the first time she'd woken here. She'd been here before.
    Squinting against the glare, Sigrid tried to raise her hand to shield her eyes only to find that she couldn't move. Something was preventing her and holding her back. In a panic, she tried to move, tried to sit up, but her hands, her feet, even her waist were bound, strapped to a metal gurney, cold against her flesh. Her clothes were gone. And she felt…cold. Sigrid trembled. She hadn't felt such cold in years.
    The room wasn't as entirely featureless as she'd first thought. A fresh white robe hung waiting on a hook. Waiting for her? She could only guess. And there was one last thing: the single white door that stood facing her. A solitary window was framed in its center—practically glaring back at her.
    Sigrid found herself staring hard at that small pane of glass. In fact, she couldn't take her eyes from it. There was something about that window, something familiar. But no matter how hard she stared, no face emerged to stare back at her and the glass remained clear. She was completely and utterly alone. The only sounds came from the panting of her short breaths and the pounding of her heart beating in her chest.
    She had to remember what had happened to her. She was convinced her life depended on it. But there was nothing. Only empty space where her memories used to be, space and a dull, throbbing ache. She tried to access her PCM. Whatever had happened to her, her PCM would have the data stored in its many databases. The answers would be there. She might not be able to remember, but her PCM was incapable of forgetting. It would tell her what she needed, and that would be that.
    Sigrid waited, but there was nothing. No response. No access.
    More than nothing, there was no signal at all. She could see it. Her PCM was there; it simply refused to answer. She couldn't access any of her bionics. None of her optical or communications modules responded, and not a single nanomite would answer her. It was as if her entire control network was offline.
    But that was…
    Impossible.
    It was impossible. Dr. Garret, even Hitomi, had told her so. The process of integrating her bionic components had taken years. Her PCM was as vital to her as her heart or lungs. It wasn't something that could simply be turned on and off. Not without killing her.
    Yet that was exactly what someone had done.
    Rather than deepening her panic, Sigrid became even more determined. She didn't have the luxury of lying there and feeling sorry for herself. She had to escape. She had to know what happened on Bellatrix, and to Suko— and, dear God, if something had happened to her —but to do that, first she had to remember.
    Closing her eyes, Sigrid lay back, searching.
    The pain came on slowly. She didn't notice it at first, dismissing it as a hangover from the stun hits she'd taken on Bellatrix. But the more she struggled to recall her memories, the greater the pain became. It started as a dull throb, building until it became sharp and stabbing. It was like having a nail driven slowly through her ear only to bore deep into her skull, scoring and gouging its way through her brain, tearing away at her in great chunks.
    Straining against the binders, she screamed from the effort. The pain was merciless, beating her down. Whoever had done this, they were willing to kill her—anything to keep her from remembering. Even for Sigrid, this was too much.
    Sweating, sobbing, she collapsed back on the gurney. Though not before pledging painful deaths to those who had done this to her. It was a hollow threat and she knew it. It wouldn't change anything. Her memories were gone.
    Lying there, pulling miserably at her restraints, Sigrid realized something else. Her memories might be stolen from her, but there were still things she did know. They were