Hunted (Talented Saga # 3)

by Sophie Davis

  I tried to digest the information. My head swam and for a minute, I thought that I might pass out. Her explanation made sense. It actually wasn’t that far off from what Dr. Thistler had told me, except for the part about it being because my body was trying to morph. Dr. Thistler had said that my body was trying to fight the chemicals, and sometimes, when I exerted a lot of energy, it couldn’t. But if what Anya was claiming was true, then when I was sparring or in a stressful situation, my system was trying to change, a natural defense mechanism, to protect itself. I rested my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands, fighting the tears back.

  Was this really so terrible, though? So, now I could morph. That wasn’t such a big deal. I just had to learn to control myself. And if anything, my new ability honestly was a gift; it made me stronger. I would be a better Hunter now. Yet, if this were all true, why didn’t Mac just tell me? Was he that worried about my mental state? Did he think I couldn’t handle it? Or was there more to it? And Donavon had sworn I couldn’t “catch” a Talent like one did a virus.

  “I thought you couldn’t transfer Talents?” I asked, my voice muffled since I still had my head down.

  “Ordinarily, you can’t,” Erik said, continuing to rub my back.

  “No, if they’d given you, say, Erik’s blood, then there wouldn’t have been a problem,” Anya confirmed.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded, raising my head to meet her gaze.

  “The unwashed blood you were given wasn’t the blood of a natural Talent,” she replied quietly. “You remember how I said the second Talent Signature was generic?”

  I nodded dumbly. This conversation was becoming increasingly more complex by the second. What the hell was a “natural talent”? All Talents were born that way - naturally. Wasn’t that what “natural” meant?

  “A generic Talent Signature is synthetic, man-made. Toxic has long had the ability to manufacture Talent Signatures. What’s unusual is that I found it in your blood and it was transferred from another person. My understanding is that the Agency has never been able to implant the signature into a person successfully and then have them exhibit the Talent,” she explained.

  “So, let me get this straight,” Erik snorted. “What you’re saying is that Toxic has been researching how to create Talents?” He shook his head in disbelief. “That’s crazy.”

  “Theoretically, Toxic has the ability to make Talents, yes,” she confirmed. “But it’s still supposed to be in development. It’s been tested over the years, but no person we’ve implanted the signatures in has ever actually become Talented or at least not long term.” She paused. “Well, I guess at least one has.”

  “So, you’re saying Donavon, Donavon McDonough, the Director’s son, is not a natural Talent? He wasn’t born with the ability to Morph? His powers are manufactured?” I demanded incredulously. I wasn’t sure whether I was more surprised that Toxic could create Talents or that Donavon was one of the created.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying,” Anya replied softly. “You see, the generic signatures have a version of the amplification drug we give the children during aptitude testing, except much stronger and more complex. That is what, in theory, makes the powers kind of stick in a person’s system.”

  “How are the generic signatures made?” Erik wanted to know.

  “From the blood of other Talents. The genes that create our gifts are isolated and then enhanced and mixed with a bunch of chemicals. That’s why any time an Operative bleeds on a mission, anything contaminated must be burned. Toxic is afraid that if the Coalition gets a hold of a Talent’s blood, they might be able to use it to create Talents of their own,” Anya answered.

  Create Talents? Why would the Coalition want to do that? Crane hates Talents. That was the whole point of his rebellion. But I didn’t have the energy to argue the point with her. I was more worried about our Agency manufacturing Operatives. If Donavon weren’t a natural Morpher, then how many others weren’t either? How many children had been infected with these generic signatures in the hopes they would develop powers? If people were angry about the Mandatory Testing laws, then what would they do when they found out about this?

  Suddenly, it all made sense. Mac and Dr. Thistler hadn’t wanted me to know that it was Donavon’s blood making me sick because Mack knew I would investigate. And Mac yelled at Donavon in Kansas because Donavon knew the ramifications of giving me his unwashed blood.

  Donavon knew he was created. How had he kept such a powerful secret from me? Earlier today, I’d thought finding out he had a kid was the biggest shock of my life, but that paled in comparison to this. No wonder he wanted to keep Alex away from the Agency. Except Alex was a natural Talent, an incredibly strong, rare natural talent.

  Oh, my god. That was what Kandice meant when she’d said they would use Alex the same way they’d used me. If Toxic could replicate the abilities of rare Talents, then they wouldn’t be so rare anymore. They could create tons of people that were able to manipulate minds or remotely track others or mimic other’s powers. Mac was using my blood to create more Mind Manipulators. He would use Alex to make more Viewers. The betrayal never ended.

  “Anya, does anyone know that you were researching this?” Erik asked, his voice laced with concern.

  “I don’t think so. I was careful. Once I realized what was going on, I did a lot of the analysis at home. I figure if the Agency does actually have the capability to create Talents and is doing it to unsuspecting children, well, then I doubt they want that widely known,” she commented.

  “Is Toxic injecting random children with these generic signatures?” I asked.

  “I don’t know for sure.” Anya shook her head. “Like I said, as far as I’ve been told, being able to create a Talent is just a theory. I doubt Donavon McDonough is the only one, though.”

  “No,” I agreed. “Mac obviously isn’t above experimenting on his own son, but he won’t have tested a prototype on Donavon.”

  “Anya, you need to be careful. If you suspect that anyone knows what you did, you need to get out of Washington. Do you still have that communicator I gave you?” Erik asked, rising from the table.

  “Yes,” she answered fearfully.

  “And you remember what I told you?”

  “Call Frederick.” She nodded, true horror forming creases in her forehead.

  I gave him a questioning look. “Frederick? Like, Henri’s Frederick?” I sent.

  “I’ll explain later,” he replied, offering me his hand.

  I took it and stood on unsteady legs. I was still reeling from Anya’s findings and worried I might fall when I tried to walk.

  “What are you going to do?” Anya asked, standing herself.

  “I need to get Talia out of here, out of D.C., away from Toxic. They’re already monitoring her too closely. It’s only a matter of time before they find out she knows what happened to her,” he replied.

  “Be careful, both of you,” she replied.

  “Thank you, for everything,” I said honestly and this time when she came around the table to hug me, I wrapped my arms around her tightly. She’d taken an enormous risk doing this for us, for me, and I didn’t want her to think I was unappreciative. Granted, I knew the only reason she’d gotten involved was because Erik had asked her to, but still.

  Anya hugged Erik, too, then stood with one hand on the table for support and watched us as we departed. Erik wrapped an arm around my waist, urging me to put one foot in front of the other as we crossed the food court. All the tables were full now, occupied by carefree teenagers throwing French fries at one another and laughing loudly. It was so unfair that they had no cares in the world while I was saddled with the knowledge that our government was more corrupt than I’d ever imagined.

  Erik was practically shaking with rage from what we’d just learned. His back teeth ground together as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. His demeanor was terrifying. I was only comforted by the fact it wasn’t directed at me. The bus rid
e back was strained. Every time I tried to start a conversation, he just shook his head angrily, causing me to snap my mouth closed. When I attempted to reach out to him mentally, I was blocked. I didn’t push. I wasn’t actually sure I wanted to be privy to his thoughts just then.

  When we arrived back at the Hamilton, Erik’s mood flipped like a switch. He was no longer tense and radiating angry energy. Instead, he was eerily calm and relaxed. His fingers weren’t digging painfully into my waist, but rested lightly – if not a bit possessively – on my hip. I was irritated that while I was still anxious and confused, he was confident and secure. He called out greetings to the entrance guards and even took the time to exchange easy banter. His nonchalant attitude irked me further.

  Once on the elevator, he pushed the button for my floor and sagged against the mirrored wall of the car.

  “Go to your room and wait for me. Don’t talk to anyone if you can help it. Dress in the most comfortable clothes you have with you,” he ordered, his mental voice tired but determined.

  “What are you doing to do?” I asked frantically.

  “I have a couple more things to work out before we leave tonight,” he replied evasively.

  “Leave? Where are we going? What about your family? Erik, are you sure?”

  “I have it all worked out. Please just trust me, Tals,” he urged, pulling me to him.

  The bell dinged, indicating we had reached our floor. I followed Erik off the elevator car. We stood in the hallway facing each other. He leaned down and put his forehead against mine.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered, cupping his hands on either side of my neck.

  “You know I do,” I replied just as quietly.

  “There isn’t time to explain right now. Just do as I asked and I’ll come for you late tonight. Be ready. Pack your medicine.”

  “No!” I practically screamed at him, a little taken aback by my own reaction, but I was not taking that suppressant any longer. Toxic had made me this way and now I would be at my strongest to spite them.

  “Tal, we don’t know how you will actually react without it. You might have seizures. We don’t know. I need you well for what I’m planning to work. Please, promise me you’ll bring it. Once we’re safe, we’ll figure out whether you can stop taking it,” he promised.

  “Fine,” I said, turning away from him.

  He grabbed for my arm and pulled me back until our lips met. I didn’t want to kiss him back because I was mad and felt like being childish. Then the full impact of everything he’d done for me since we met, everything he was still doing for me, hit home. He was risking his life, the lives of his family, and I was being ungrateful and ridiculous because he disagreed with me. Clearly, I needed more of that suppressant instead of less because I was becoming more unreasonable by the minute.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and he lifted me off the ground as we kissed. Warmth and caring flooded through me and I clung to him with more urgency. I didn’t want to let him go.

  “I love you,” I whispered breathlessly when he finally put me down.

  “I love you, too.” He smiled and kissed the end of my nose. Then he waited until I walked to my door and entered my room.

  The sun had barely begun to set outside my window and I had hours to kill before Erik would come for me. My room seemed too small as I paced anxiously, turning over Anya’s outrageous statements in my mind. My head throbbed when I thought about how many things Mac had lied about, how many things Donavon had lied about. I wanted to confront him, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up my communicator. What would I say? After all, hadn’t Mac used him, too, lied to him, too? Obviously, Donavon knew he wasn’t born with the ability to morph, but I doubted whether he’d had a choice in becoming Talented.

  The more I thought about it, the worse I felt for him. His own father had experimented on him. What kind of person could put his child in danger like that? How many others had been infected the way Donavon had been? The way I had.

  You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people. Crane knew. He knew and he tried to tell me, but I’d been too proud and trusting to listen. Penny tried to tell. She gave her life attempting to uncover the truth.

  Before long, I was fuming. I stomped angrily between the bed and the bathroom, tossing clothes, books, and anything else that wasn’t bolted down against the walls. With every passing minute, my temper rose a little more. Deciding I needed a distraction, I rifled through the outfits I’d brought with me until I found black workout pants, a black tank top, and a black light weight jacket. I set the clothes aside and made my way to the shower.

  Erik’s refusal to let me in on his master plan stung and all I could do was sit and ponder the possibilities, each idea more absurd than the one before it. Would we live in the woods like animals? Make our way to the ocean and hitch a ride to Europe? Continually move from one place to the next, constantly looking over our shoulders for Toxic Operatives? We would never be safe. They would hunt us. If I knew nothing else, I knew that.

  I was fairly confident wherever we were going that showers and other luxuries I’d become accustomed to would be scarce. I savored the feel of the warm water against my skin. I thought about Alex and Kandice and I hoped she would at least find some peace in the fact her son wouldn’t succumb to the fate she’d given her life to prevent. Although, for that to be true, we had to succeed in getting him out of this hotel and somewhere the Agency wouldn’t find him. A sense of dread filled me. The Hamilton was under heavy security with guards at every entrance and exit. If it were just me and Erik, we stood a chance of getting out without drawing too much attention. Taking Alex would raise suspicion.

  I had no clue how Erik planned on getting past Mac’s watchdogs. Assuming we made it past the guards, we still had to find a way out of the city. The security at the border would be even more intense than at the Hamilton. Not to mention, how were we going to get Alex away from Cadence? She’d been increasingly friendlier to me in the previous couple of days, but I doubted her good will would extend to handing the boy over without a fight.

  By the time the water was cold, I felt we were about to embark on a suicide mission, but my resolve didn’t waiver. After everything I’d learned, I was even more convinced that Alex needed to be kept safe.

  I dried my hair and took pains to straighten every strand until not so much as a wave was visible. The effort would be wasted once we were out of the air conditioning and in the humidity, but with an abundance of time and no other way to fill it, I figured why not. I stuffed the most necessary of my toiletries into one of the cases with my medicine and set them neatly by the door. I looked at the clock. It was only ten.

  I climbed into my bed, fully clothed, and pulled the covers over my head. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I couldn’t stand the mess that I’d made any longer. My mind contemplated all the horrible scenarios that we might encounter and the very real possibility we’d be caught. Any trouble I’d gotten into over the years, Mac had come to my rescue. But now, he would be the one leading the charge against me and Erik. We would be hunted like game and likely killed. The thought terrified me, but was also oddly invigorating.

  For years, I’d sat idly by while Mac and Toxic took measures I’d known were wrong. I had even participated in some. Not anymore. I couldn’t right the wrongs that I’d caused. I couldn’t return the children to their parents. I couldn’t help the people I’d put in jail. But I could help Alex. For Donavon’s sake, I hoped Mac never learned the truth about Alex and that I could finish what he’d started.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Just after midnight, the door to my room creaked and someone slipped quietly inside. I knew without him speaking that it was Erik. I threw the covers back and could make out his oddly shaped silhouette moving in my direction.

  “You ready?” he asked anxiously. When he moved closer, I realized the reason his outlined was so distorted. He was carrying two large backpacks. One was snuggly fastened against
his back while the other was slung over one shoulder. I scurried out of bed and he handed me the one from his shoulder. I silently slipped into the straps.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I muttered.

  Erik smirked. “Are you supposed to be a ninja?” he asked when he noticed I was wearing all black.

  I shot him a dirty look; we were making an escape, for god’s sake. What was I supposed to wear? Erik was wearing jeans and a dark colored t-shirt, blue or green, I figured.

  “I’m trying to blend in,” I shot back.

  Erik chuckled and I soon found myself giggling a little, too. Only he would make a joke at a time like this. The tension ebbed slightly as we slipped into the hallway. I immediately registered the lack of neon glow; the lights were out.

  “Erik, what’s going on?” I hissed.

  “I called in a favor. I have a friend who is an Elite level Electrical Manipulator. He shorted the power to the entire hotel,” he whispered, reaching back for my hand.

  “Seriously?” I asked, both stunned and impressed at his ingenuity.

  “Yeah, it’s the only way I could be sure there wouldn’t be any security footage of us leaving the building,” he said, leading me down the corridor to Cadence’s room. “We don’t have a lot of time, though. Most people should be asleep, but any one awake will notice. Soon, Operatives will be crawling all over this place trying to figure out what happened.”

  Erik knocked lightly on Cadence’s door. Then, to my astonishment, he entered without waiting for her answer, pulling me in after him. Cadence stood, bathed in the silvery moonlight streaming through her window. She looked anxious, but determined. I glanced between her and Erik, confused. Alex was sitting on the floor next to Cadence. His mop of blonde hair turned white by the pale glow. Unfocused milky eyes stared in our general direction and his small mouth quirked into a smile when he felt our presence. Alex leapt to his feet, raced across the room, and threw his arms around one of my legs.