by Sophie Davis
“Of course,” I promised. “I have to make sure that you’re not slacking in my absence. If you don’t make the Hunters, it’ll be pretty embarrassing for me.” I winked when I pulled away to let her know I was kidding. Although in truth, a line of people waited for her to fail so that they could give me a big “I told you so.” Mac was at the head.
Kenly was a rare dual Talent, meaning that she had two distinct sets of abilities, Higher Reasoning and Telekinesis. It was extremely unusual for a dual Talent to be proficient in both areas and Kenly wasn’t an exception. Her Higher Reasoning abilities were well developed, but her Telekinesis was lacking. I’d been helping her strengthen it in the hope that she would make the Hunters. She’d drastically improved over our time together, but I wasn’t sure it would be enough. Many, Mac included, thought my efforts were a waste of time. Donavon’s willingness to take over Kenly’s training was more a testament to how much he cared about me than to his confidence in Kenly’s chances.
I turned to Gretchen and waited while she said a quiet goodbye to her husband. The only outward signs of affection between them were a quick hug and lingering fond look, but I knew better. Gretchen was a Mind Manipulator like me. I was positive that they were exchanging their goodbyes privately.
After she had finished with Mac, Gretchen turned and leaned down to wrap her thin arms around me. She was considerably taller than my five feet.
“Be careful, Natalia,” she sent.
“Careful? It’s just aptitude testing, Gretchen. It’s not as if it’s dangerous,” I replied, rolling my eyes into her shoulder.
“I know, dear, but I always worry about you.” She smiled as she pulled away. Gretchen gave me a long, searching look with eyes the same cornflower blue as her son’s. “Be sure to take your medication at the same time every day.”
“I will,” I promised. “I’ve been feeling really good the past couple of weeks. You don’t need to worry.”
Gretchen hugged me again, then released me to follow her husband from the kitchen.
Donavon stood by the front door, waiting to help load the bags into the waiting car. I grabbed the lighter of my suitcases and trailed Mac and Donavon from the house. Once the luggage was inside, Donavon started driving across the compound towards the hover hangar.
I stared out the window, emotions swirling out of control with the passing scenery. The McDonough’s house, my house, held so many memories, both good and bad. It had been the first place I’d felt safe after my parents were killed, the place I met Donavon, and where I learned to use my Talents. It had also been my prison after my return from Nevada. I both loved and loathed, longer for and dreaded, the structure.
Donavon and his father made small talk as we wound through the sprawling grounds. The early summer flowers were in bloom, yellow and white dotting the otherwise green canvass. The lake shone smooth as glass, reflecting the bright orange of the late afternoon sun. But I couldn’t truly appreciate any of it. Everything I saw reminded me of her. The orange rays were reminiscent of Penny’s flame-colored hair. Even though the lake water was calm, nothing like the roaring waves of the ocean in the images that Penny showed me at her sentencing, it still triggered the now fading scenes.
When the guards escorted Penny from the courtroom, she opened her mind to me. She urged me to see memories of my parents, of me – her memories. At the time, I’d thought they were real and that she’d actually known my mom, my dad, and even me. Overwhelmed by the painful images, I broke down in the courtroom. As a result, Mac ordered me into therapy with the Agency’s Head of Psychoanalysis, the formidable Dr. Wythe.
After several weeks of intense psychobabble, I realized that what I saw in Penny’s head that day wasn’t her memories at all. They were fabrications she manifested to make me think that she’d known my family. Dr. Wythe explained that Penny was the enemy, and she was trying to turn me against the Agency by showing me visions, images of myself and my parents, in an attempt to confuse me. During the sessions, the images began to fade. At times, the scenes I recalled were fuzzy, like out of focus pictures. Other times, the memories were bathed in shadows and I couldn’t distinguish one silhouette from the next.
But in my dreams, the scenes were still crystal clear. It was there that I saw the man with deep blue eyes and a freckled face, the woman with curly chestnut hair, and the child with purple irises. When I woke, I tried to hold on to the dream, tried to recall every detail of the happy family. Like with all dreams, the longer that I was awake, the harder the images were to grasp. I felt as though I was looking through binoculars. At night, the memories were so close I was positive if I reached out I could touch them. But in the light of the day they were distant and blurry. I thought that my mind was playing tricks on me.
More than once, I tried to draw the dreams, but my artistic abilities left something to be desired – the people were little more than stick figures.
Mac had spent the morning at Tramblewood Correctional Facility witnessing Penny’s execution. I wanted to ask him about it. I had so many questions. Had she said anything before the guards led her to her death? Had she made a deathbed confession of sorts? Had she cried? Despite everything, the thought of Penny alone in her last minutes broke my heart. In the courtroom, she’d appeared thinner than the day of her arrest, but she had radiated strength and pride, and I hoped that three weeks in Tramblewood didn’t rob her of that. I’ve never been to the prison, but I had heard stories. It was rumored to be a horrible place, devoid of light and goodness. The stuff nightmares are made of. If Tramblewood came anywhere close to living up to its reputation, I could have at least taken solace in the fact Penny was in a better place now.
The hover hangar was alive with activity when we arrived. Operatives were busy loading luggage on to two Agency planes while flight crews readied the crafts for takeoff. The other instructors and administrators from the school that would be going with us to D.C. milled around.
Donavon helped load mine and Mac’s bags. I stood mutely off to one side. I watched while Donavon said a quick goodbye to his father. Mac held two fingers up in my direction, and I understood that I had two minutes to say my own goodbye.
“So ...” Donavon began, coming over to me, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said awkwardly. After everything we’d been through in the past couple of weeks and our tumultuous history, goodbye seemed insufficient – lame even.
“I’ll see you soon.” His lips curved upward in a smile, but his eyes remained flat.
“Take care of Kenly. I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t get assigned to the Hunters,” I tried to joke.
“I’ll do my best,” he said, visibly straining to keep the emotion from his voice. “Don’t forget to take your medicines and make sure to get enough rest.”
I rolled my eyes. Another person lecturing me about taking my medications and paying attention to my health was the last thing I wanted. At least Donavon actually cared, unlike Drs. Thistler and Wythe, who both treated me like a test case.
“Natalia,” Mac called from the steps to the plane, “let’s go.” Apparently, my time was up.
“Bye,” I whispered, closing the small gap that separated us.
Donavon just stood there for a long moment, nervously chewing his lower lip and fighting the words on the tip of his tongue back. It had been like this a lot lately, him always seeming as though he wanted to tell me something but deciding against it at the last minute. Usually, I let him have his privacy. Not today, though, I opened my mind only to find his carefully guarded. I thought about knocking through his mental walls, but quickly dismissed the idea. Instead, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. “I’ll miss you,” I mumbled into his ear.
“Me too,” he whispered back, pulling me closer to him. Donavon’s lips brushed a kiss on my cheek. Then he turned and strode purposely from the hangar. As I watched him go, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of my stomach and dread caused my next br
eath to hitch in my throat. Foreboding bathed me in a cold sweat and I wondered if I’d ever see my first love again. The notion was irrational. I would see him in three weeks. But logic didn’t help shake the feeling.
The cabin of the aircraft was spacious, with ten large recliner chairs spread throughout. Most of the seats were already taken since the others had boarded while I took the extra time to say goodbye to Donavon. Only two unoccupied chairs remained - one next to Mac and one next to a small girl with choppy black hair, beady black eyes, and scrunched features: Cadence Choi. To say that Cadence Choi was not my friend was akin to claiming that Grand Canyon was a hole, a vast understatement. She was an instructor at the McDonough School that I’d investigated as a potential Coalition Spy. At the time, Cadence had been unaware of my intentions, but she’d been hostile towards me anyway. She hated me for achieving the goal that she’d set for herself, being selected to Pledge the Hunters. The fact that I’d actually failed to become a Hunter gave her some satisfaction, but not enough to lessen her animosity.
Mac had failed to mention that Cadence would be among the test administrators. Her surprise presence did not thrill me, and the harsh glint in her beady black eyes when they settled on me indicated the feelings were mutual.
I went with the lesser of two evils and sank down next to Mac. He gave me a tight smile, then withdrew a portable computer from his briefcase and booted it up. I settled into the seat and closed my eyes, hoping to catch some sleep before we arrived in D.C.
My mind wouldn’t quiet, though. My overactive imagination conjured up horrible images of Penny’s last moments. The roar of the engines did nothing to drown out the made-up screams in my head.
“Mr. Simmons, Ms. Eisenhower, Mr. Trindel, and Ms. Howard were sentenced this morning,” Mac said quietly once we were in the air.
My throat constricted painfully and I searched the cabin for someone that could bring me a glass of water. No stewardess was in sight. “And?” I managed to say.
“Mr. Simmons and Ms. Eisenhower were each convicted of conspiracy to commit murder.”
“Conspiracy to commit murder,” I sputtered, shocked. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“No, Natalia, it’s not. Their actions, or rather lack thereof, resulted in your near death. I’d have thought that you of all people would think the punishment is just,” Mac replied. The disapproval at my reaction was evident in the steel gray of his eyes.
Penny’s execution had been front and center in my mind all day, and I had somehow managed to forget about the others who had been arrested in the wake of her discovery as a spy. None of the others had been charged with treason since there was no concrete evidence to link them to Penny, Crane, or the Coalition, but they had all lied about the intel that had sent me to Nevada. Their breach of protocol couldn’t go unpunished.
Cal Simmons and Jennifer Eisenhower were part of the team, along with Penny, that had intercepted the original intel regarding Crane’s trip to Las Vegas. Both realized the intel was encoded using low-level encryption, but failed to report it. The Judge presiding over their cases had wanted to reserve her final judgment until Toxic’s Psychic Interrogation Division sufficiently questioned Penny. And apparently, their punishments were handed down this morning after Penny’s execution.
Just the thought of Penny undergoing psychic interrogation made me shudder. I knew the repercussions of so wholly invading another’s mind firsthand. I had done just that to a boy named Ernest. Not only had I robbed him of his memories, I had taken his sense of self. Now Ernest was in a psychiatric ward at the School’s medical facility and could barely sit up on his own or feed himself. I wasn’t sure whether I hoped that had happened to Penny or not. Maybe the end would have been easier if she didn’t know what was happening to her.
“What’s their sentence?” I asked hesitantly, dreading his answer.
“Mr. Simmons will be serving ten years and Ms. Eisenhower eight. The Judge decided her motivations were less devious; therefore, her sentence should be lighter.” Mac shook his head, showing his disagreement.
Icy fingers closed around my heart. The sentences were much longer than I’d anticipated. Jennifer was a weak-willed, twig of a person. She would never last eight years in prison. And Cal, ambitious, determined Cal, would be forty-five when he was released. I loathed what they’d done, but I never imagined that it would lead to this. I figured that they’d be relegated to cleaning toilets or something as equally demeaning.
“What about Grace and Rider?” I asked quietly.
Rider Trindel and Grace Howard were the other two Operatives arrested for their involuntary involvement in Penny’s elaborate scheme to get me face-to-face with Ian Crane. I had intended on keeping their roles out of my official report. Unfortunately, Mac wasn’t stupid and put the pieces together on his own.
Their punishment for breach of protocol and cheating on placement exams was likely severe, but I hoped that their reason for doing so would gain them some leniency. While there deception nearly cost me my life, I hated the idea that they were in so much trouble on my account.
“Ms. Howard was sentenced to fifteen years for conspiracy to commit murder and having cheated on her placement exams.” Mac searched my face for my reaction. I kept my features neutral this time, even as guilt made my turkey sandwich go leaden in my stomach. “Mr. Trindel received life in prison for the same.”
“Life?!” I exclaimed loudly. “Are you serious?” Several heads swiveled in my direction, causing Mac to glare at me.
“Keep your voice down, Natalia. This isn’t public information,” he scolded. “But, yes, I am serious. His willingness to aid another Operative in lying and cheating speaks volumes on his character. And he is an Elite level Higher Reasoning talent; there is no telling what he is capable of devising. He cannot be trusted.” Mac gripped the armrests so hard that I thought his knuckle bones might pop right through the skin.
If I’d thought that Cal and Jennifer’s punishments were extreme, theirs were a drop in the bucket compared to Grace and Rider’s. Horrible couldn’t begin to describe how badly I felt. You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people. The words Crane spoke in Nevada played like a record stuck on repeat. Sure, none of the Operatives were exactly innocent, but they didn’t deserve this. Hadn’t enough people been hurt already? Couldn’t Mac just have them dismissed from the Agency? Wouldn’t that ensure they never got the chance to harm another Operative? All of their lives were ruined, and Penny had lost hers. Suddenly my seizures didn’t seem that terrible.
“I’m tired. I think I’ll close my eyes again until we land,” I said, turning to look out the oval window on my right. The fluffy white clouds and bright sunshine seemed to mock me with their happy appearances. I closed my lids to block out their infuriating cheerfulness and turned my thoughts to my own personal sun: Erik. For the millionth time, I thought how he was the only bright spot in my life. My lips parted in a smile that I couldn’t have contained if I’d tried.
“Natalia, the Agency has rules and regulations in place for a reason. These Operatives breached protocol and now they have to pay the price.” Every time Mac said “protocol” I cringed as if it were a dirty word.
“Oh, right, protocol,” I scoffed. “If memory serves, your son breached protocol too, yet he wasn’t even hauled in front of the disciplinary board, let alone brought up on formal charges.” It was a low blow and I was glad Donavon wasn’t around to hear me throw his sacrifice in Mac’s face. Donavon knew the consequences when he gave me his blood and had done it anyway. I wasn’t even sure I properly thanked him for doing so. I didn’t know if I ever could. How do you repay someone for saving your life?
Mac paled and pursed his lips into a thin line. I held my breath, waiting for him to explode. I often wondered when Mac’s tolerance of my increasingly bad attitude would run out. The daggers shooting from his eyes pinned me to the seat, telling me the time had finally come. I couldn’t decide if I were embarrassed that so many others
would hear the verbal tongue lashing, or relieved that there were witnesses so he would have to hold a little back.
“Donavon served several months in hell for his impulsive actions,” Mac said finally, his words measured, his composure now restored and his demeanor eerily calm. I was taken aback by his ability to turn emotion on and off like a light switch.
“What are you talking about?”
Mac offered me a coy smile, liked he’d just scored a pivotal point in a game I wasn’t aware we were playing. Suspicion and unease made me squirm in my seat.
“He had to endure your attitude and mind games for three months, Natalia. If that does not make him think twice before stepping out of line again, well, then, I do not know what will.” Satisfied, Mac faced forward, his smile widened.
I swallowed hard, appropriately cowed. Definitely should have sat next to Cadence, I thought. At least she would have ignored me.
Chapter Three
One short hour later, I thanked the bell hop as he wheeled the collection of luggage into my room on the fifth floor of the Hamilton Hotel. Before parting ways in the hotel lobby, Mac gave me an itinerary for the coming weeks. The first item on the schedule was a cocktail reception for all Operatives assigned to the D.C. testing site and several high ranking senators and congressmen. I hated these types of events. The schmoozing, handshaking, and forced small talk put my teeth on edge. Unfortunately, the reception was not optional, evidenced by the MANDATORY scrawled in all caps next to the event on my schedule. Thankfully, I still had two hours of Mac-free peace before the torture began.
The large bed pushed against one gold papered wall called my name. Leaving my unpacked suitcases by the door, I flopped down on the blue and gold down comforter, sinking in to the fluffy fabric. I sighed contently, relaxing for the first time since opening my eyes that morning.
Kenly had showed up at the McDonough’s house before sunrise on the pretense of a morning run. I knew she was actually there to distract me from Penny’s execution. Donavon most likely put her up to it. Between the two of them, I hadn’t had more than ten minutes to myself. It was sweet, but what I really wanted was time alone.
