by Sophie Davis
“What have you given him?” I called over my shoulder. Brand had sedated me upon my arrival, and I assumed the guards had done the same to Harris. Maybe they’d given him too much, which would account for his vacant expression and lethargy.
“Nothing,” Crane replied. “He’s been like this since his arrival.”
Okay, so much for that theory.
I’d known Harris for years, and had enough of connection with him to easily read his mind. If he wasn’t going to talk to me, taking a look inside his head was my only option. I took a deep breath, inhaling the stench of his unwashed body and the smoke and chemicals that still clung to his clothes. I reached into his mind.
Harris’s most recent memories were of the cage. He remembered being led down the corridor by two armed guards and being locked inside this cell. He hadn’t put up a fight, and as a result, the guards hadn’t been too rough with him. These images were of no value to Crane, since he likely already knew about Harris’s arrival. I wanted to make sure he was being treated well, so I took my time sifting through them. I saw food being delivered, and the guards offering to let him shower. He never spoke to his captors and left the food untouched.
Systematically, I moved backwards on the timeline of Harris’s life. His journey to the cottage was uneventful. Like Crane had said, Harris ran aboard one of the escape planes and surrendered immediately. He’d been shackled in the corner of the cargo hold, and guarded by a woman in a torn blue dress with a large gun; he didn’t fight her.
I moved backward further, to the raid on the station. Harris had been one of the first operatives on the ground. I cringed as I watched him shoot men, women, and even children as they tried to flee. He felt no remorse. It struck me as odd. No feeling, no emotion accompanied any of his memories. He’d been so upset after everything that happened with Penny, so I knew this wasn’t ordinary for him.
In all the time I’d known him, he’d struck me as compassionate and fair. Despite the rivalry between Erik and Donavon, Harris had managed to maintain friendships with both guys. He was one of the few of Donavon’s friends who had actually liked me, as opposed to being nice to my face and talking about me behind my back.
I went back further still. At least, I tried to. His mind was blank before the raid. It was like he’d been born the moment he boarded the plane for Gatlinburg. This was not the first time I’d used this type of mental regression when reading someone’s mind. But it was the first time I’d hit a wall such as this.
Scared now, I pressed harder, searching specifically for memories of Penny. His emotional connection to her had been strong, so even if someone had played in his head, images of Penny shouldn’t have been easily suppressed. No matter how deep I dug, not one memory of her floated through his head.
I felt my heart starting to pound harder, and my head began to throb with the effort of using so much mental energy. Calm down, I had to tell myself. Concentrate, you can do this.
Eradicating Penny from Harris’s memories wasn’t unheard of; it was possible. A strong Manipulator, such as myself, could do it. Maybe his grief over her death had become too much, and Mac had ordered some type of mental extraction therapy to help him cope. This too was possible, but unlikely. Extractions were tricky, and extremely risky. I wasn’t even sure TOXIC currently had anyone on staff capable of performing one.
Switching gears, I tried to locate memories of myself, Erik, and Donavon. The three of us had also played a major role in Harris’s life. We’d all been at school together, and Donavon had been on Harris’s hunting team. There were none of the boys, but there was one of me. Just one, though. And it wasn’t a memory so much as picture. He saw me as I looked in my official TOXIC photo, and the thoughts attached with the picture weren’t what I’d expected. He felt no emotion where I was concerned. My image didn’t conjure any sort of resentment or confusion or evoke a single feeling. When Harris saw me, three words ran through his mind: Capture. Don’t Kill.
I gasped upon seeing these words flit through his mind over and over again like a mantra.
“Talia?” Crane sounded alarmed. “What’s happening? What did you see?”
“Nothing,” I said hurriedly.
I would tell him when this was over. Right now, though, I needed to have another crack at Harris’s mind. I was in uncharted territory here. Deciding to pledge the Hunters meant I never received advanced interrogation training, but I had taken several classes on the matter while at school. I understood the principal behind delving beyond a block such as the one in Harris’s head. I just hadn’t expected to ever be faced with the situation.
“Let me in, Harris,” I said softly, and put all my energy into making it a command. The more receptive Harris was to the intrusion, the more likely I’d be able to break down his defenses.
Again, I searched for memories from before the raid, and again there weren’t any. When I’d tried to infiltrate Crane’s mind, I’d been met with a similar resistance. But I’d been able to feel that there was something behind the wall. Harris wasn’t like that. He wasn’t blocking me; he actually didn’t have anything to share. This terrified me.
Had he been robbed of all of his memories, of the life he’d led prior to the raid, his brain would’ve suffered irreparable harm. His motor skills would have suffered, and he wouldn’t have been able to participate in the raid at all. At least, that was what had happened to Ernest, the boy whose memory I’d inadvertently erased.
“What’s going on, Talia?” Crane called.
I heard the shuffling of his boots on stone as he shifted from one foot to the other nervously.
“Hold on, let me try one more thing,” I called back.
When Mac made me interrogate Ernest, his mind had gone blank, just like Harris’s was now. But when I’d tried to put his memories back, it had worked. I wanted to try the same with Harris. I hoped implanting my own memories of our time together would unlock the door holding back his past experiences.
I conjured up images of when we’d spent Festivis Day in D.C. Along with Erik, Penny, Henri, and Frederick, we’d gone into the city to watch the parade and the fireworks. The six of us had drank, ate, and generally acted stupid. That was the night he’d first gotten together with Penny. With his feelings for her having been so strong in the past, I thought this of all nights would evoke a response. The memory bounced off of his mental wall. There was no other way to describe it. All the images I tried to project from my mind into his were flung back at me. I tried again. The same thing happened. It was like throwing a boomerang. Every toss was returned.
Frustrated, I pulled out of his head and stared into his unseeing eyes. What the hell was going on? Why wasn’t this working? Was it because I was using memories that weren’t his? Because the images weren’t through his eyes?
I tried to stand, but my legs were shaky and they buckled under my weight. A firm hand gripped my upper arm, forcing me upright.
“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice coming out strained.
“You okay? What did you do to him?” Crane asked.
I hadn’t even heard him move into the cell.
“Fine,” I mumbled. “He doesn’t remember anything before the raid. His mind is blank,” I added.
“Blank?” Crane asked. “Maybe he’s blocking you?”
“No, he has no mental resistance. It was easy, almost too easy to get into his head. I had no problem seeing everything from the moment he boarded the plane to Gatlinburg until now, but I couldn’t access anything before that. There wasn’t even anything to access.” My voice cracked; I was becoming slightly hysterical. What was wrong with him? What had Mac done to him?
I shrugged off Crane’s hand, wanting to throw my arms around Harris and comfort him.
“Don’t, Talia,” Crane warned. “He might attack you.”
“Harris won’t hurt me,” I shot back, moving towards my friend. Slowly, I sat on the edge of his bed. He didn’t move.
“Talia, he doesn’t know who you are. He doesn�
��t know that you used to be friends. You might be scaring him.”
I mulled over Crane’s words. He had a point. Harris didn’t know who I was, only that he was supposed to capture me. But he was wrong about Harris being scared. There was no trace of fear in Harris’s mind; he wasn’t projecting any feeling at all.
Tentatively I placed my hand on his arm. Fast as a whip, Harris shot up, grabbed my wrist, twisted it behind my back, and wrapped his other arm around my throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to cut off my air supply completely, but did make it difficult to breathe.
Crane was only a second slower drawing his gun. “Let her go,” he demanded.
Crane wasn’t playing around. His finger was on the trigger and he was milliseconds away from firing.
Harris said nothing, but his grip on me tightened. I should’ve been frightened, but he wasn’t actually hurting me. Sure, I was uncomfortable, but uncomfortable I could handle. Capture, don’t kill. Capture, don’t kill, chanted Harris in his head.
What did scare me was the fact that Harris wasn’t scared. His heartbeat was steady, his muscles relaxed given the circumstances. With Crane standing at point-blank range, ready and willing to pull the trigger, Harris’s adrenaline should have been pumping. His natural fight or flight instincts should have been taking over. They didn’t, though. He was calm, nonplussed by his current predicament. Even if Crane was a lousy marksman, his bullet would severely injure, if not kill, Harris.
“Lower your weapons,” I told Crane and the two guards, who now had their guns trained on Harris, as well. Not one of them complied. “I said, lower your weapons,” I repeated in a firmer voice. This time, the guards obeyed. Crane hesitated, fighting my control. On a good day, Crane’s will rivaled mine. Today, he was no match. My fight with Brand had left me keyed up and taut as a drum. Crane lowered his gun, letting it drop to hang at his side. I relaxed a little.
“Harris, let me go,” I demanded, focusing my energy on him now.
Harris had never been strong-willed, so I was surprised he didn’t release me immediately. But with a surge of power on my part, he finally relented.
The instant I was free, Crane grabbed my arm and pushed me forcefully towards the cell door. Without a word and as if nothing had happened, Harris sat on the edge of his cot before curling into the fetal position and closing his eyes.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Crane demanded, once we were safely in the elevator. He sounded more scared than angry.
“He didn’t want to hurt me,” I replied defensively, stung by Crane’s chastising. The stupid comment was harsh, but not unwarranted. I’d known better. My actions, as well intentioned as I’d thought them at the time, could’ve gotten someone killed. Most likely me.
“How could you be so sure?”
“I’m a mind reader, remember?” I shot back, my tone snarky to mask the slight tremble in my words. “Besides, he was programmed to capture me. Not kill me.”
This caught Crane off guard. “Programmed?” he repeated.
“That’s what his thoughts feel like. Like he’s been programmed. Like his will isn’t his own anymore.” I shuddered; I couldn’t imagine anything worse than having your free will taken from you.
Crane didn’t say anything. His thoughts seemed to turn inward.
We rode the rest of the way in silence.
Chapter Nine
Crane and I parted ways at the medical sublevel.
“Marin was able to procure some nicer clothes for you. The UNITED council members are formal people. I’d like for you to dress appropriately.”
“Sure,” I agreed, my stomach sinking.
Meeting the mysterious UNITED council was already something I was dreading. Getting dressed up to do so, well that just made the task even more unpleasant.
In mine and Erik’s room, I found a black suit jacket, matching black pants, a white blouse, and black leather shoes neatly arranged in the dumbwaiter. Marin, I assumed from the loopy feminine scrawl, had pinned a note to the blazer, written on thick eggshell stationary.
Hope these fit. I guessed your size.
The clothes actually did fit, sort of. A belt would’ve helped keep the pants in place at my waist, and the blazer hung like it had been intended for someone taller. All in all, the outfit didn’t look half bad on me, I decided as I admired myself in the bathroom mirror. A soft knock sounded on the outer door.
Penny, I thought, winding my curls into a knot at the base of my skull. With her new, created talents, her essence was unmistakable. She emitted so much raw power; I’d never felt anything quite like it. Erik would be the same way, I realized.
“Tal? You ready?” Penny called, poking her head through the door.
“Yep,” I replied, tugging my suit jacket into place as I walked out of the bathroom.
Penny stepped into the bedroom. She, too, wore business attire. Her suit was navy with a green and blue striped camisole underneath the blazer. She’d smoothed her shoulder length mane into a sleek ponytail, which accentuated her sharp cheekbones. Her appearance projected maturity and confidence, a sharp contrast to the fear she felt inside.
“How are you feeling?” Penny asked.
I shrugged. “Okay. A little nervous,” I admitted.
A total lie. I was a lot worried, but she didn’t need to know that. Given the circumstances, Penny seemed calm. A quick swipe of her thoughts told me she had complete faith in UNITED and their good intentions. She also believed Crane wouldn’t let them contain us. She’d believed him when he said the evaluations were a formality. I, however, didn’t share her feelings. UNITED wouldn’t hesitate to contain us if they decided we were dangerous.
“Me too,” Penny said. “But I’ve been through worse. We both have. This’ll be a breeze.”
“Definitely a breeze,” I agreed, mustering a smile for my best friend’s benefit.
I kissed Erik on the forehead. His skin felt cool beneath my lips. Then, I followed Penny into the hallway and to the elevator.
She pushed the call button and then stared at the closed doors, managing to look both impatient and anxious at the same time. The elevator came and we boarded. Penny pressed the button for sublevel one. The elevator shot upwards, and she studied my face, her lime-colored eyes narrowing in on my bruises. She pursed her lips into two narrow lines.
“Was physical violence really necessary?” she asked.
Guilt made my cheeks burn. “He provoked me,” I said defensively.
“I don’t doubt it. But, Tal, he means a lot to me. You both do. I’d really like if you guys could be friends. At least not enemies.”
I was about to say I’d play nice when he did, but Penny turned big pleading eyes on me and added, “Please, Talia.”
“I’ll try,” I promised her.
She smiled. “Thanks.”
The conference room on sublevel one was already full when Penny and I entered. Brand, bruises and all, sat beside Crane, who was in his place at the head of the oval table. For the occasion, both men had traded their fatigues in favor of charcoal gray suits. Brand paired his with a green button-down that matched his eyes. Even with two black eyes, he cleaned up well. Penny’s face lit up when she met his gaze. The feelings were mutual. Brand beamed at her, seeming momentarily dazed by the sight of Penny all dressed up.
My eyes shifted to Crane. For the first time since I’d met him, he actually looked like the political figure he was. With a red power tie adding a splash of color to his otherwise monochromatic ensemble, authority radiated off of him. He nodded approvingly after giving my own outfit a once-over.
Frederick was at the opposite end of the table from Brand and Crane. He looked like a model in his perfectly tailored suit and immaculately styled hair. Ten of the twelve remaining chairs at the table were occupied by three women and seven men I didn’t recognize. All of them wore beautiful clothes made from expensive silks and wools; even the leather of their shoes smelled like they’d cost a small fortune. I thought how ridiculous all
the pageantry was.
My skin began to prickle from the collective power radiating off of the UNITED council members. I breathed it in, letting it wash over me, savoring the feel of so much raw talent in such a confined space. I’d encountered numerous strong talents while with TOXIC, but never so many at once. The effect was intoxicating for someone like me, someone with ability to feel other’s abilities. I wondered how Penny was handling it. As a Mimic, she must be going nuts trying to process all the different gifts. Then again, with twelve talent signatures inside of her already, maybe this was nothing new.
I glanced at Penny out of the corner of my eye. She gave no outward sign that the power in the room was affecting her. Inside, butterflies were flapping their wings in her belly. But I thought the fluttering sensation had more to do with Brand than nerves. Brand might’ve been a total ass to me, but he clearly loved her. That was reason enough for me to keep my promise and try to be civil to him.
I erected my mental barriers, creating a wall to separate myself from the power swirling in the conference room as I slid in beside Frederick. I feared prolonged exposure to the other’s energy would make me talent drunk, and the crazy inside of me might surface. It was bad enough that, to a discerning eye, my bruises and marks complimented Brand’s, and the UNITED council members all had discerning eyes. I felt all twenty of them follow my every move. I just hoped no one would ask about the injuries.
Penny eased herself into the chair on my other side, just as Crane cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention his way.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Crane began, rising to his feet to address the table. “As I am sure you all know by now, a Coalition team attacked TOXIC’s maximum security prison, Tramblewood Correctional Facility, two nights ago. Despite the loss of four soldiers, the mission was a success. We rescued the men and women taken prisoner during our attack on Rittenhouse Research Facility two weeks ago. In addition, we rescued the Mimic Erikson Kelley.” Crane paused, glanced around the table, and met each of our eyes in turn.
