Created (Talented Saga)

by Sophie Davis

  I laughed humorlessly and shook my head. “I see. So she’s like Mac. Great. One more power-hungry politician, just what I need.”

  “Victoria means well. But yes, she is drawn to strong talents the same way McDonough is. The same way you are. The same way I am.”

  I averted my gaze and said nothing. I hated being lumped into a category that included Mac and Victoria. Even if the description was accurate.

  “You still have a choice –”

  “A choice?” I snapped. “What? Run? Because that is the only alternative I see. The choice was taken from me the minute you informed the Council I’d been injected.”

  The accusation hung in the air like smoke, creating a curtain between us.

  “Technically, the Council doesn’t have jurisdiction here. This half of the country is not a member nation. I invited them here and I can disinvite them. Once you’ve been evaluated, yes, the Council can insist you be contained. If you choose not to go through with it, there isn’t anything they can do.”

  Crane had more experience with UNITED than I did. I’d only ever heard vague mentions of them before now, and never actually met a council member until tonight. Still, I had a feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest with me. If I refused, they’d bully Crane into turning me over to them. Or worse. They’d withdraw their aid in the fight against TOXIC.

  I thought of all the children who had been infected with the drug already. I thought about the army of super-Talents Mac was creating as we sat there. I thought about the Mind Manipulator in Gatlinburg and how little it took for him to control me. I closed my eyes and sighed. The better UNITED understood their opponent, the more likely they were to defeat him. Studying me would help with that. I focused on the bigger picture.

  “I’d said I’d do it and I will. Cool, calm, and collected tomorrow, that’s me.”

  Crane actually smiled at that. “I’ll make sure Brand makes himself scarce until after the evaluation.”

  Guiltily I fingered the bruised skin next to my right eye. Yeah, that was probably a good idea.

  Several tense minutes passed where neither of us spoke. Since Crane made no move to leave, I figured he had more to say. Yet, he was in no hurry to start up the conversation again. I considered taking a peek at his thoughts, but I wasn’t in a hurry either. I had a long sleepless night ahead of me. What were a couple more minutes with Crane?

  “The creation project is a black mark in UNITED’s history,” he finally began. “They’d prefer to forget it ever happened. That’s part of why they’re so eager to contain all the recipients of the creation drug. Don’t misunderstand. What Victoria said was correct. The power, as well as the drug itself, deteriorates the mind. But they don’t want their mistake causing chaos in the world either.”

  “Why did they fund the project in the first place?” I asked. “I mean, why create Talents? It just seems like a bad idea.”

  Crane smiled. “Now it does. But at the time, studying the genetic makeup of Talents and learning how to create new ones was exciting. No one considered the ramifications. Hell, I’m not sure anyone really believed it was possible. Since the Great Contamination, scientists have been trying to understand why some people are talented and others aren’t. There is no biological component, no gene that is passed on from parent to child. Isolating talent signatures was revolutionary. The scientists were so eager to see how far they could take it. When they first succeeded in creating new Talents, the Council was elated; it was a huge breakthrough.”

  I scoffed. Idiots.

  “A couple of weeks after the first successful implantations, the team noticed that the recipients' talents were weakening. They considered it a setback, but no one was terribly concerned. A hiccup, they thought. They injected the first round of recipients again. And again, their talents weakened within a couple of weeks. It wasn’t until the head of the research team discovered that the recipients’ minds were devolving that people started to argue in favor of scrapping the project.”

  “Did they?” I asked. “Scrap the project?”

  “No. Not yet. They figured it was only a matter of time before they perfected the formula. The research was only in its infancy, the researchers said. Give it time. UNITED did. Time only produced more failures. Several of the scientists resigned from the project. Dr. Albert Wythe was one of them.”

  My jaw came unhinged. It took me several long moments before I was able to speak. “You mean, Dr. Wythe, my therapist?”

  Now it was Crane’s turn to look surprised. “I wasn’t aware that was Albert’s function within TOXIC, but yes, I suppose it makes sense. He is a very strong Manipulator, both perception and mind.”

  “Perception? That’s rare,” I commented. Perception Manipulators were even more rare than Mind Manipulators. They altered their surroundings so that people saw what they wanted them to see. It was an external talent, where Mind Manipulation was internal.

  Crane grinned and the room around me fell away, replaced by sun, sand, and surf. I gasped. Rays of sunshine warmed my arms and legs. Waves lapped the shore, sounding like a soothing lullaby. For a split second, I was relaxed and at peace. Then, it all went away and I was back in Erik’s bedroom, staring open-mouthed at a beaming Crane.

  “So that’s your talent?” I said when I regained control over my muscles.

  “Guilty as charged. Brand, too. He’s not quite as strong, though.”

  I was suitably impressed.

  “But I digress. After Albert left the project, the team made another breakthrough. They perfected the formula. The head of research presented his findings to UNITED, with the suggestion that the drug be outlawed. He concluded that the side-effects far outweighed the benefits. The recipients were no longer showing signs of lessening ability over time, but their minds were still devolving. Now UNITED was burdened with dozens of people who were both extremely gifted and extremely unstable. Immediately, the focus turned to creating an anti-drug. A cure, if you will. But …” Crane’s voice trailed off.

  “But what? If they could invent the drug, how hard could inventing a cure be? And why hadn’t anyone thought about that from the start?”

  Crane’s black gaze turned sad, sympathy rolled of off him in waves, and my throat tightened.

  “The head of research died before he had the chance to finish working on the cure. Even with his notes, the rest of the team has been unable to produce results.”

  “How’d he die?” I asked, dread forming a pit in my stomach.

  “He was murdered, Talia. Murdered because he refused to give the perfected formula to TOXIC.”

  Murdered because TOXIC wanted his very talented daughter, I thought.

  “I worked on the project with your father, Talia. His intentions were good. He was a scientist. He craved knowledge. Having a talented daughter when neither he nor Katerina were talented made the research personal for him. He wanted to learn everything he could about talents.” Crane’s words cut through the booming in my ears.

  Tears prickled at the backs of my eyes. My father had been the one who invented the creation drug. My father had unleashed this plague on the world. My parents had died because of a stupid, freaking drug. The throbbing inside my head started at the base of my skull before taking over my entire body. Soon my skin was pulsing with the need to release the energy building inside of me. I wanted to scream, to throw the chair I was sitting in, to beat my fists against the wall. Anything besides sit there and think about what Crane had just told me.

  “No. No,” I moaned. “He worked for the government. He was … he was,” I stuttered, at a loss as to how to finish the sentence. All I’d known as a child was that my father worked for the government. I realized I had no idea what his job had entailed.

  “Yes, he was a scientist – a brilliant scientist – for the Italian Government. That is why UNITED asked him to head the project. They asked me because I had some of the most qualified doctors and researchers in my employ. I agreed because I was curious. I’ve always been
fascinated by genetics. After your father’s death, the project was disbanded for good. Work on the cure has continued, but in general, UNITED has focused on containment. A cure wasn’t necessary because the pool of test subjects from the original project wasn’t very large. Now, well now it’s imperative. There is no telling how many people have been infected.”

  I tried to wrap my head around the tornado of information, but all I kept thinking was about how my father’s thirst for knowledge had thrown the world into a tailspin, and we were just now realizing it.

  “The reason I’m telling you this now is so that Victoria doesn’t catch you off-guard tomorrow.”

  My head snapped up from where I was cradling it in my hands. “Excuse me?”

  Crane blew out a long, tired breath. “Victoria might bring it up during your evaluation tomorrow to see how you react. She’ll use it to needle you, see if she can elicit a reaction. I want you to be prepared.”

  I blinked and hot tears poured down my cheeks.

  “Francis was my friend, Talia. He was a great man, a great father, and a great scientist. Don’t let this taint your memory of him. He was the one who insisted the drug be outlawed. He was the first person to understand that nothing good could come of creating Talents. If you want to place blame, lay it on Albert Wythe’s doorstep. He’s the one who gave the early versions of the drug to TOXIC. Blame TOXIC for using it, despite the risks. But don’t think ill of your father. He died trying to do what was right.”

  Crane stood and came to crouch in front of my chair. He met my tear-filled eyes before he wrapped long arms around me in a tight embrace. At first, I stiffened, surprised by the affection. Slowly, I relaxed and leaned my head against his shoulder and cried.

  Chapter Eleven

  Before he left the night, Crane had Marin send down ginger-infused tea with honey and a plate of sugar cookies. He asked if I wanted him to stay, or to send Frederick or Penny to keep me company. I declined. Erik’s was the only company I craved.

  With the floral-patterned china teacup clutched between my palms, I returned to Erik’s beside and told him about my father. He’d been here, obviously, but it felt good to repeat the hard truths out loud. I tried to keep Crane’s sentiments in mind, about how my father was a good man with good intentions and that Dr. Wythe and Mac deserved all of the blame. But my mind kept going back to that saying about the road to hell being paved with good intentions. If the Council didn’t stop Mac soon, there’d be hell on earth.

  While I’d been certain sleep was an impossibility, I must’ve succumbed at some point because next I knew, Frederick was shaking my shoulder to wake me up. My head felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on top of it, and my mouth tasted like Erik’s workout clothes smelled. Marin must’ve put a sleeping pill in that tea, I thought as I tried to will away the pounding in my head.

  “Why don’t you shower and get dressed? You have about an hour until your evaluation,” Frederick told me, and then blessedly handed me a mug of rich black coffee.

  “You’re an angel,” I muttered, stumbling out of my chair to take the coffee.

  “I’ll remember you said that,” he teased.

  I sipped the hot beverage, letting the fragrant aroma and bold flavors give life to my senses. Still groggy, but more steady on my feet, I dutifully trooped to the bathroom to get ready for the day. The hot spray from the shower felt amazing as it unkinked my taxed muscles and eased the knots in my shoulders. I wanted to spend time with Erik before the evaluation, just in case Victoria did rattle me enough that I flipped on her and they shipped me off to a containment facility, so I didn’t linger too long.

  I combed through the tangles in my dark curls as I stared at my reflection in the mirror over the bathroom sink. My face was too angular, my cheekbones too defined. Stress and exhaustion were taking a toll on my appearance. Not to mention the bruises that served as a reminder of what happened when I lost my temper. They looked worse than they had yesterday, the swollen red stung-by-a-bee appearance having given way to swirls of black and blue. By tomorrow, the marks would have faded. I had TOXIC to thank for that gift.

  When I returned to the main room, Frederick was in my seat, talking to Erik.

  “Henri’s going to come by soon. He’s worried about you, man. We all are. Talia more than the rest of us. She only leaves your side when she has to. Come back to us soon.”

  I felt like an eavesdropper as I stood in the doorframe and listened to Frederick’s encouraging words. I cleared my throat, startling Frederick. His cheeks flushed to pale pink, which made his delicate features appear pretty, almost feminine. I smiled sheepishly.

  “Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to overhear.”

  He shook his head, sending light blonde hair fanning over his forehead. “It’s cool. Dr. Patel said talking to him might help. Anyway, you ready?”

  I chewed my lower lip and nodded. “Can I have a minute with him? Just in case I don’t come back.”

  “That won’t happen, Tal,” Frederick said confidently. “Ian won’t let them take you.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I replied, though, I wasn’t sure he would be able to stop Victoria if she labeled me dangerous. “Still, I’d hate it if I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

  “I’ll be outside.” Frederick stood, smoothed the small creases in his jeans, and headed for the door.

  I waited until I heard the soft click of the door shutting before joining Erik. Using the tip of my right forefinger, I traced the contours of his face, committing them to memory, as if that were necessary. His face was what I saw every time I closed my eyes. I placed feather-light kisses on each of his closed eyelids, his bruised cheek, and finally his split lip.

  “Cool, calm, and collected,” I sent him, even though I couldn’t reach his unconscious mind. “I won’t let Victoria bait me.” The promise was more to myself than him, but thinking it helped remind me how important that was. “I’ll be back before you know it.” I hated how true that statement was.

  When I found Frederick in the hallway a moment later, he wasn’t alone. Henri, arm in a sling, was wrapped in his boyfriend’s arms. They both colored slightly when they noticed me, and I realized how rare it was to see them display physical emotion in public. Well, not really public; until I’d intruded they’d been alone.

  “I’m going to read to him,” Henri said, holding up a leather-bound book with his good hand. “Give me something to do besides twiddle my thumbs. I gotta say, recovery is boring.”

  I smiled up at him. “Yeah, tell me about it. Try nine months of solitude. It sucks.”

  Frederick was getting antsy now, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.

  “I guess it’s time,” I said, his nervous energy compounding my own. I started to sweat, despite the cool hallway and sundress I’d chosen for the occasion.

  I’d selected a white sundress over more casual options like jeans or shorts because I wanted to appear innocent. Victoria wasn’t likely to be fooled by such an obvious ruse, but it couldn’t hurt either.

  Henri kissed Frederick lightly on the cheek, a small peck that seemed to express so much more than mild affection. Then he leaned down and hugged me with his good arm.

  “Just don’t be yourself,” he teased, “and you’ll be good.”

  “Thanks,” I snorted, only slightly offended, and returned his embrace.

  Three minutes that passed too quickly later, Frederick and I were standing outside an unmarked door on sublevel two. This was one of the few floors I’d yet to explore, and I didn’t get the chance now. The empty corridor looked much like the others, with its stone walls and floors; it was the atmosphere that felt different. It had a colder, more impersonal feel than anywhere else I’d been in Coalition Headquarters, which heightened my unease.

  “I’ll be right here when you’re finished,” Frederick told me.

  I nodded mutely, unable to form words. He knocked on the unmarked door. Three sharp thumps that echoed through the sublevel. I heard a whoosh as th
e airlock released, followed by a small creak when the door swung inward. Without glancing at Frederick, I entered to face my fate.

  Victoria sat in the middle of a long, rectangular table. Her hair was neatly styled in a chignon, and she wore a crisp red pantsuit the color of fresh blood. I felt a tug on my heartstrings as I met her golden eyes. Her polished appearance reminded me of Gretchen. Gretchen, who I hadn’t given a second thought to since fleeing D.C. How much did she know? I pushed the thought aside before it could distract me from more immediate concerns.

  On either side of Victoria were two additional council members. One was the Portuguese delegate, the other a man I’d never seen. Doctor, was my immediate thought. He had that look to him, that superior air of one who thought himself better than others. Immediate dislike sent off warning bells in my head.

  “Ms. Lyons, good of you to join us this morning,” Victoria greeted me in a regal tone that brought to mind images of a queen addressing her subjects. “Please, have a seat.” She indicated the lone plastic chair facing the panel of three.

  Head held high, spine ramrod straight, I took my place. Once seated, I arranged the pleats of my white dress so that the fabric hung just below my knees and crossed my ankles to prevent fidgeting. My hair was still a little damp from my shower and it felt heavy, like a wet veil cascading down my back.

  “I am Victoria Walburton. This is Councilwoman Amberly Azevedo,” she indicated the Portuguese councilwoman with a nod in the other woman’s direction. “And this is Dr. Kramer.” She gestured to her other side. “We would like to start by asking you a few questions, if that is alright with you?” Victoria phrased it as though she was asking permission, her voice lilting at the end of the sentence to suggest a question mark. I wasn’t fooled by her polite tone. We both knew I didn’t have a choice.