Whisper

by Lynette Noni

  “You have to let us into the topside elevator, Lando,” Enzo says. “Neither Cam’s clearance nor mine will allow us out this late.”

  I glance at them both, then at the others, my eyes questioning.

  “We’re the untrustworthy nobodies,” Keeda informs me, blowing another gum bubble. “Cam and Enz can leave during the day, but the rest of us aren’t allowed to go anywhere without a Genesis babysitter.”

  Crew’s face is dark. “And they wonder why we love it here so much.”

  There’s that bitterness again, and again I’m intrigued to know why it’s there. I thought the Exodus recruits were content to spend their days learning how to control their abilities so that they can go on and use them for the greater good. The idea of being a warrior for the government still doesn’t appeal to me, but I can’t deny that the concept has merit. Crew’s attitude, however … I don’t understand what I’m missing.

  “Easy, mate,” Enzo says. “It’s not like it’s hard to get authorization to leave. When have you ever been denied a pass?”

  “That’s not the point,” Crew replies, and he leaves it at that.

  He’s right. But in defense of everything Lengard makes claim to, allowing any kind of Speaker out into the world without some contingencies in place would be risky at best, catastrophic at worst. While I can certainly relate to Crew’s dislike of being locked up, I can’t say I blame the security measures the facility has in place. I do, however, have one question:

  “Will I have to be blindfolded this time?”

  Keeda raises her eyebrows at Ward and then me. When she quietly mutters, “Kinky,” I shoot her a glare.

  “I think we’re past that,” Ward answers me. “You now know what Lengard really is and your place in it. We’ve gone beyond keeping you here against your own volition.”

  They have? Since when? I want to ask if they would let me leave should I choose to go, but I’m also aware that I have nowhere else to go. So I keep my mouth shut, practicing the silence that I’m determined to keep for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  There are only two ways to reach Taronga Zoo from the city: by road or by water. Since the ferries at Circular Quay are within walking distance from Lengard’s exit at Centrepoint Tower, it’s from there that we jump on a boat and catch a ride straight across the harbor. It’s twilight when the vessel delivers us to the tail end of the zoo, and we head straight to the Sky Safari, a cable car that offers a bird’s-eye view over the whole park as it carries us directly to the entrance.

  Bundled up against the brisk weather, I rub my hands together as the others decide where we’ll start. Winter begins officially in less than a week, but as I stand waiting to hear their decision, it feels as if it’s already arrived. The children, however, look as if they were born for this moment, and they’re ready to embrace every second of our evening expedition, bitter wind or not.

  When a direction is finally agreed upon, Cami turns to the kids and asks, “Are we ready?” At their vigorous nods, she says, “Then let’s go have some fun!”

  As we walk along a path, following instructions from the map-wielding Keeda, I’m caught up in all the sensations I’m experiencing. I hear birds jabbering to one another as they settle down in their nests for the evening, the distant sound of screeching monkeys, then a strange, deep groan from far away that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

  “Did you hear that?” Abby asks, her voice filled with wonder.

  Enzo scoops her up until she’s piggybacking across his broad shoulders. “Sure did, baby girl. Sounds like the lions are hungry.”

  I’m just as much in awe as she is. Years and years ago, when I was about Abby’s age, my parents brought me here to this zoo. That was back when we lived in Sydney, before they packed us up and we moved to the other side of the country. I remember being amazed by the animals and throwing the biggest tantrum when we had to leave. The only way my parents could get me to go was by promising that we’d return someday.

  That never happened.

  But here I am, fulfilling that promise on my own. And the place is just as wonderful as I remember, if not more so in the fading light. I refuse to let my mind wander down a path best not traveled ever, let alone right now. All that matters is that I’m here. Even if my parents can’t be.

  Guided by Keeda, our group heads to the reptile enclosure first, and the kids are delighted when a keeper allows them to stroke the scales on a large diamond python. Once we’re outside again, Abby runs ahead with the two boys, zipping forward and back and calling out, “Hurry up, or we’ll miss all the good aminals!”

  I have to hide a snicker of amusement when I hear Ethan’s long-suffering sigh.

  “Animals, Abby, not aminals. Animals.”

  Abby stomps her foot. “That’s what I said, Ethan! Aminals!”

  I actually need to walk a short distance away to keep from laughing. And I’m not the only one, since even Crew sidles along beside me, his normally fierce eyes crinkling with humor.

  Over the next two hours we watch elephants spraying water through their trunks, we mimic meerkats posing on their back legs, we’re entertained by playful spider monkeys, we feed giraffes and we cuddle koalas.

  The animals come alive as the darkness descends, and they go about their lives as if they’re not held captive behind glass windows and retaining walls.

  They’re utterly magnificent.

  It’s while we’re watching the chimpanzees bed down for the night that something strange happens. With everyone’s attention on the mischievous creatures, I seem to be the only one who hears the whispered murmur and sees the soft flash. The next moment, something slams into me from the side. I stumble a few steps before I regain my balance, but when I do, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.

  Because I’m looking at me.

  An exact copy of myself stands right where I was before I stumbled.

  Alarmed, I raise my hand to gain the attention of the others and point out the Twilight Zone scene in front of me, but I gasp in horror when I can’t see my own arm. A glance down is all I need to discover that from head to toe, I’m entirely invisible.

  Panicking now, I open my mouth, certain Ward would call this “absolutely necessary.” But before I can utter a single word, an invisible hand clamps over my lips, muffling any cry, while a strong arm wraps around my midsection from behind. Shocked, it takes me a moment to get my wits about me enough to struggle, but all the self-defense moves I’ve learned from Enzo fly from my mind as I’m dragged backward by my captor’s unyielding grip.

  We scuffle invisibly past the giraffe exhibit, and we’re nearly down past the empty cafeteria, when I find the first opening to thrust my heel down on my assailant’s foot. At the same time, I sink my teeth into the fleshy palm covering my mouth. I hear a satisfying grunt of pain, but then the arm around my waist tightens enough to force the breath out of me.

  “Stop fighting me,” a male voice demands. “I just want to talk.”

  His words offer me little comfort. But I also know that despite my many hours of sparring practice, I can’t fight him, not with the hold he has on me. So I force myself to relax; my feet cease kicking, and my arms stop trying to gain an advantage over him.

  My sudden passivity allows him to wrestle me onward again. I know better than to continue resisting, since I need to save my strength for the right moment. But when I see that he’s dragging me past the sun bears and toward the tiger exhibit, I begin struggling anew, until I’m pulled off the main path and brought to a halt beside the rock wall enclosing the big cats. The arm around my waist disappears for a second, and I try to twist away, but I’m not fast enough before he latches on to me again, squeezing the breath out of me.

  “Don’t even think about it, princess,” he hisses into my ear. Then, louder, “Jet, can you —”

  “I’ve got it,” replies a second voice, belonging to a young girl.

  My body stills, and I wonder just how many oth
er people are invisible to my eyes. But then my attention is snared when part of the rock wall slides open, revealing a secret doorway. It leads into an old elevator, the kind found in decrepit mine shafts. The kind that calls to mind images of trapped miners and deaths from asphyxiation.

  I make a fearful noise in the back of my throat, but there is no savior nearby to hear my muted cry, nor anyone to stop me from being shoved forward and into the elevator.

  I am alone with my kidnappers … and completely at their mercy.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The elevator lowers us down, down, down, creaking and groaning the whole way, shaking almost as much I am. It comes to a jarring halt at the bottom, the clunking boom echoing in my ears. The rusty grate is lifted to reveal that we are in some kind of long, flame-lit tunnel.

  Panic awakens every cell in my body, and I start thrashing again. I claw at my captor’s arms, I push against his grip, I struggle with all my might to get away.

  “Stop it,” he hisses at me, giving a firm shake. “Just stop.”

  I don’t stop. I fight even harder, desperate not to find out where this tunnel leads. But his grip on me tightens, squeezing the air from my lungs. I have to stop, if only to breathe.

  “If you’re going to fight me every step until we reach the catacombs, I’ll knock you out and haul you over my shoulder,” he threatens. “It’s your call.”

  Catacombs? Beneath the zoo? Despite my overwhelming fear, some small part of me is intrigued. Another part is curious why he didn’t just knock me out to begin with. There’s a strange tone in his voice, almost like he doesn’t want to hurt me. He’s giving me the choice.

  All I know is, if I’m unconscious, I won’t be able to escape. So I do the only thing I can: I stop resisting and force my body to be still.

  “Good decision.”

  I grit my teeth but remain compliant in his arms.

  “Jet, you can stop hiding us now.”

  Two things happen at once.

  First, I become visible again, as does the hand covering my mouth.

  Second, a girl appears in front of me. She’s young, maybe thirteen, with owlish eyes and freckles covering almost every inch of her skin. She looks at me with undisguised curiosity.

  “She sure doesn’t seem to want to be here,” the girl — Jet — says.

  Everything about her is innocent. I can’t fathom what she is doing in the company of my captor.

  “She’ll be fine once she understands,” he replies shortly.

  What could they possibly want me to understand? And why did they go to such extreme measures to get my attention?

  The hand over my mouth disappears — not because it’s invisible again but because it releases me. The one at my waist remains in place, but I can now open my mouth. Not waiting another second, I do exactly that, infusing my words with as much power as I can, heedless of control.

  “Let me go!” I demand.

  Nothing — absolutely nothing — happens.

  “Sorry, princess, not until I’m certain you won’t do anything stupid.”

  I tug against his grip, pull in a deep breath and assert very clearly, “Release me.”

  Even though I can feel the power of the words as they leave me — as well as the perfectly controlled intent behind them — my captor’s arm remains in place.

  “I actually feel sorry for her,” Jet says, but there’s a wide, mischievous grin spreading across her face. “I’m confused just thinking about how confused she must be.”

  I barely hear her over my turbulent thoughts. Why can’t I Speak? I’m a Creator — my words have the potential to make or break the world. Surely I should be able to loosen a single unwanted arm from my midsection. But it’s like there’s something … blocking me.

  “I’ll let you go if you promise not to run,” my captor tells me, baffling me further. “But you have to give me your word. You of all people know that words hold power. We Speakers have to be careful with the promises we give.”

  We Speakers.

  I now know exactly who I’m dealing with. Manning’s fractured voice floats across my mind: They call themselves the “Remnants” … a terrorist group … more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.

  I am in worse trouble than I thought. And yet, survival instincts tell me to cooperate as much as I can and wait for an opportunity to escape. To do that, I need to be able to move freely. I make the obvious choice.

  “I promise not to run away,” I tell him, while mentally adding yet.

  He holds me close for a long moment, but then his arm slowly untangles from around me.

  I immediately take a large step away and spin around until I’m facing him. When I do, I can’t keep my eyes from widening slightly before I lock down my expression.

  As much as I wish it weren’t true, my captor is, well, captivating.

  He is, undeniably, dangerous. But with hair just two shades lighter than pitch-black and eyes so dark that it’s like staring into an unending midnight, he is also, undeniably, gorgeous.

  “Who are you?” I croak out, watching the light from the flames flicker over his skin. “And where are you taking me?”

  “Why don’t we get there and you can see for yourself.”

  He strides forward, brushing straight past me with the young girl at his heels, and I realize I’m expected to follow without question.

  I look back toward the elevator, wondering what my chances are of making it rise again on my own, but it’s so ancient that I wouldn’t know where to begin. I doubt I’d even have the grate back down before my captor followed through on his promise to throw me over his shoulder.

  I trudge after him, saying, “At least tell me your name.”

  His steps don’t so much as pause, but to my surprise, he does answer.

  “Kael. My name is Kael.”

  I wait, hoping he’ll say more, but he remains silent. My fear is dissolving, with frustration taking its place.

  “How about telling me why I’m here?” Still no response. “Come on. Give me something. Anything.”

  I’d particularly like to know why my words aren’t having any effect. I can talk normally down here, just like when I’m in the Karoel-lined training room. But I see no hints of the glossy black mineral coating the underground corridor. There has to be something else disabling my ability.

  “Jet, why don’t you run ahead and make sure the others are ready for us,” Kael suggests.

  She smiles at me over her shoulder and says, “See you soon!” before sprinting off down the dark tunnel. As she passes Kael, he reaches out and musses her hair, which earns him a playful scowl in return.

  The affection in his action gives me pause, since their warm interplay doesn’t scream “terrorist” to me. But perhaps that’s what they want me to think. They obviously know something about me and staged my abduction for a reason. If they really are terrorists, then having access to my Creator ability could be what they’ve been wanting all along.

  On that worrying thought, Kael and I continue forward in silence, with me having realized he’s not going to answer anything until he’s ready. I scout the path, searching for an exit, but the stone walls offer nothing until we reach a fork in the road. Three paths lie before us, with Kael leading us to the left. I’m curious about the other two — especially the middle path, which, unlike the others, is consumed by darkness. When I ask where they go, I again receive no answers.

  We continue onward for a few more minutes before our path opens into an empty but vast underground chamber similar to Lengard’s main training room but also … not. I can understand Kael’s earlier use of the word “catacombs” now, since it’s the perfect description for what I’m seeing. Lit by yet more flaming torches, the huge open space calls to mind images of ancient civilizations buried deep beneath the earth. It’s like I’ve entered another world, another time, another life.

  Even knowing my questions have gone unanswered, I still can’t resist asking, “Where are we?”


  “Don’t tell me Kael forgot his manners again.”

  At the sound of the smooth new voice, I turn to see that we’ve been joined by a dark-skinned guy with short dreadlocks. He appears to be around the same age as Kael — perhaps a year or so older than me.

  “There’s nothing wrong with my manners,” Kael says. He faces the newcomer and asks, “Where are the others, Dante? I thought we were meeting here.”

  Dante shrugs. “Liana saw something. We need to swing by her room first to remedy a … complication. The others are waiting for us in the control room.”

  Kael looks like he wants to ask more questions, but even I notice the brisk head shake Dante sends him, and I wonder what that’s all about. I don’t have time to dwell, however, since they turn and stalk back along the tunnel we just came from.

  “We’re on the clock,” Kael says to Dante. “We have less than an hour before we need to get her back topside and swap her out with Shae, or they’ll take the wrong girl back to Lengard.”

  Relief floods me at the realization that this abduction is only temporary. Confidence, too. Enough that I’m about to try another round of questions, when we arrive back at the fork. This time Kael leads the way down the right path.

  Unlike the first tunnel we traveled along, this one has multiple offshoots, like one huge underground maze. With each new turn, my hope of escape dwindles. But Kael’s mention of returning me topside helps keep me calm, even if I’m yet to discover why I’ve been taken captive in the first place.

  The two boys stop in front of a closed door embedded in the rock wall, and Kael rattles off a knocking sequence before latching on to my arm and tugging me through.

  It’s dark inside the room, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, especially when Dante enters and seals the door behind us. Only a solitary candle lights the space, held by a wisp of a middle-aged woman with luminescent white hair so long that it trails down past her hips. I stifle a gasp when she moves the candle high enough for it to reveal her face. Her eyes are almost as colorless as her hair, with large black pupils keeping her from looking like she’s possessed.