“I know I can. But Darius never should have ordered a cancellation when he knew I was in the field. Goddammit, he pulled me into this rescue mission himself.”
“I know that. I was there.”
I clutch my head. “Right, right.” I pace back and forth across the wood floor of Mona’s studio. “Heidi had it figured out, and I didn’t listen to her.”
“What do you mean?
“She said the person who ordered the cancellation on her would be the one who had the most to lose if someone more powerful were discovered.”
“That’s awfully astute. I think grays learn more in the school of hard luck than we give them credit for. If you were rude to her, and I know how you can be, then you were a grade-A ass.”
I rake my hands through my hair at the temples, picturing everything I’ve done and said to Heidi since my vision at the water’s edge. “You have no idea.” I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose. “I have to apologize to her.”
Mona’s expression turns to a mixture of sorrow and guilt. “You might not need to.”
A ball of dread forms in my stomach. “What did you do?”
Mona twists the fingers of her left hand in her right, cracking each knuckle, then switching hands. “Too much had happened. It was a gift, Marston. The gift of innocence.”
We both fall abruptly silent and whirl to face the stairwell as we hear footsteps on the stairs. Heidi’s delicate form emerges from the stairwell. It obviously takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the brighter light in the studio, despite the closed shades and window treatments.
“Well, Heidi, would you like to get started?” Mona calls out with no preamble. It’s as if she’s butting in on a conversation that isn’t happening out loud.
“Oh,” Heidi exclaims. I’m not sure if she noticed me before, but her eyes are locked on me now. “I’m sorry. You have company.” She throws a glance over her shoulder toward the stairwell. “Should I…?”
“No, dear,” Mona says in her kindest, most matronly tone. “This is Marston Faulkner, my nephew.” She turns to me, warning me with her eyes to play along. “Marston, this is Heidi Rivers, an acolyte of mine.”
Heidi’s lips turn up in that curly smile of hers and my heart lurches. If my vision was accurate, the next thing she’ll do is pull out a knife and plunge it into my heart. But she doesn’t. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says in her musical voice. She keeps her eyes downcast and her hands firmly clasped in front of her like a proper gray. She doesn’t remember me at all.
18
Heidi
I step out of the shower feeling a little bit woozy and just the tiniest bit anxious, which I don’t understand. I’m in Mona’s private apartment belowground. I’m safe. Mona’s my good friend, my mentor. The whole building is shielded and the subterranean quarters make it harder for Minders to find an opening into our neutral pathways or for Watchers to See us, let alone make a feeble attempt to predict our futures. It also puts us in a location that can’t be reached by teleportation. Not that we’d ever need protection from our own.
I towel my hair and pick up my gray clothes, which I left neatly folded on a chair outside the shower stall. At least I think I left them there. I don’t remember doing that, but I step into my pant legs and pull the drawstring tight, then wiggle the darker gray tunic over my head and shoulders, smoothing it down over my hips. It fits tightly across my breasts, but most tops do.
I stare at myself in the mirror. These gray training clothes look the same on me as always, but they feel incorrect, like I’ve borrowed them from another person. It’s the weirdest sensation.
I slide my feet into my clompy shoes and I’m just about to leave the bathroom when I notice the little pistol-shaped appliance plugged in and left resting on top of the sink. I recognize it from pictures in magazines. A hair dryer! I’ve always wanted to try one of those.
I pick it up and flick the “on” switch. I jump backward and nearly drop the thing when it whines to life with a high-pitched roar. The airstream is instantly warm and I blow it against my left palm in wonder, then jerk my palm back as it quickly grows uncomfortably hot. I press my scalded palm against my wet head and it cools down immediately.
Slowly gaining confidence, I finger-comb my damp locks and wave the hair dryer at them. I clunk myself in the head a couple of times with the appliance, but it doesn’t actually hurt – it just startles me. After about five minutes, I’m not sure what I’m more astonished at: my own self-indulgence or how soft, smooth, and pliable my hair feels. It’s mostly straight, but it curls a little at the ends, hitting where the V-neck of my tunic reveals my collarbone.
I need to get upstairs. Mona will be waiting for me. We have so much work ahead of us; there is much to learn. I can almost hear Mona’s voice whispering in my mind. “Fully soaking the skin will help set the process. Come straight to me after your shower, Heidi.” I don’t understand that first part. My brain is so weird right now, it must be playing a trick on me. But the last part, “come straight to me,” is perfectly understandable. It doesn’t mean, “Why not stop and style your hair first?”
Nevertheless, I want to look amazing and I’m not sure why. I never tried to make my hair look especially pretty for John. He was only interested in what made my tunic fit so tight.
John… Odd. I know that until recently, thinking about him ripped my heart in half, but I’m so detached from him now. It’s as though I read a book about a girl who cared for him, a lovelorn character in an overwrought romance, but somehow, that character was me.
I climb the stairs and emerge to voices on the main floor. Mona isn’t alone. It’s so bright compared to Mona’s underground apartment, I wish I’d patched one eye like I did for my previous work assignment, so that I could move from light to dark environments and always see clearly with a flip up or down of the patch, but I hadn’t thought to do it.
I rub one eye to try to “wake it up,” but both my eyes adjust at the same time and I take a short, sharp breath in. Wow, I am glad that I made myself look as good as possible because the young man in here with Mona is as hot as a stiff breeze across the desert.
My brow wrinkles. Where did that thought come from? I’ve lived in Region One my whole life, and it’s damp and drizzly ninety percent of the time. Still, for a brief second, I swear I smell hot sandy wind blowing in my face, and when I blink, the backs of my eyelids are etched with the shimmer of heat rising from far-off dunes.
“Well, Heidi, would you like to get started?” Mona says suddenly, and I get the weirdest feeling that she’s trying to cut off my train of thought, but of course that’s ridiculous. She can’t read my mind. She’s a Jumper, not a Minder.
“Oh,” I say, startled out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry. You have company.” I look back toward the stairwell. “Should I…?”
Mona shakes her head. “No, dear. This is Marston Faulkner, my nephew. Marston, this is Heidi Rivers, an acolyte of mine.”
I feel a smile curl across my face, but I drop my eyes to the floor and clasp my hands in front of myself. “It’s nice to meet you,” I say softly. I’ve been imbedded as a gray for so long, I’ve grown to think like one. Grays aren’t supposed to act friendly with anyone, let alone high caste boys, but I’ve been trained to be polite and deferential. It’s a fine line, but I’ve always managed to navigate it before. But something about this guy… I feel like I should be able to look right at him. I want to, but I won’t let myself be so bold. I dart my gaze in Marston’s direction, but I don’t address him directly. “Is he here for training as well?”
“Marston will observe and he may assist. He’s a licensed Jumper with a high level of experience.”
My head snaps up. I’ve made a serious mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”
Marston holds up his hands, palms out. “No apology necessary. You have nothing to feel bad about, Heidi.”
That’s laying it on a bit thick, but okay. I take a deep breath and give mysel
f a quick hug around the middle, then I relax and put my hands at my sides.
“No sense waiting to begin,” Mona says briskly. “Let’s dive right in with a skills assessment.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, shrugging.
“Not quite,” Mona replies.
I cock my head, and she explains herself quickly.
“Those shoes are too heavy for a Jumper. You should be barefoot.”
“Oh. Right.” I slip out of my clunky footwear and step forward a pace. The floor is cool under my feet. Something tickles at the edges of my memory, but what? When was the last time I went barefoot anywhere? It feels important. I search my memories, but I seem to have a lot of holes in my recent past. I purse my lips, and then my mind lights on my breakup with John. I’m outside the restaurant and my expensive shoes just broke. In my mind’s eye, I’m tripping over a pile of rubble and hobbling away with shards of metal embedded in the bottom of my foot. I guess there’s a reason I didn’t want to remember the last time I went without shoes. Suddenly, I feel woozy again. I stagger a step and in a flash Marston is at my side, gripping my elbow and holding me upright.
He’d been all the way across the room an instant ago. Oh….right. He’s a Jumper. Of course. But I’ve never seen a Jumper use his ability to help a gray. My heart skips a beat, then makes up for it by stuttering three times in a row way too fast together. I’m a factory gray. And I’m standing here about to start training with a Jumper? And this makes sense to me…why?
I feel my pulse pound in my throat. No, I’m not really a gray. I’ve just posed as one for the last several years. But I have so many unanswered questions. When did I get here? How did I arrive? How did I leave my factory? I have no pass on a lanyard around my neck. Something’s not right. I hate pretending to be a factory gray and I’d give anything to never have to go back, but – ruse or not – nobody leaves the factory dormitory without a large, laminated pass.
It’s for our own safety as much as anything. So that our supervisors always know where we are, and how to find us. If a worker doesn’t show up for a shift, it’s because they’ve been abducted. We all know that. And the floor supervisor will fill out paperwork and an inspector might even stop by if the worker was particularly productive, but no one ever comes back. Have I been abducted? Is this what really happens when a gray disappears? I always figured they were sold into slavery. I picture a kidnapped girl waking up in bed next to a strange man, lurching to her feet, running down wide, white hallways…
“Heidi,” Mona snaps, and there’s a note in her voice that isn’t exactly irritation and it’s not quite fear, but there’s a healthy dose of both of those emotions mixed into her tone. “We need to begin.”
I smile tremulously at Marston, who still holds me steady in a firm but gentle grip. “Thanks,” I say softly.
His teeth grind together. I can see the pulse in his jaw muscle. “No problem,” he grunts through his clenched teeth.
My dizziness passes and I feel myself relax as more pleasant thoughts fill the empty spaces in my brain. Marston is so cute. I wonder if he’d let me call him “Mars.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, and Marston’s hand squeezes my elbow harder, but he doesn’t overreact this time. I turn to Mona. “I’m ready for a lesson.”
Behind Mona, there’s the sound of a key turning in a lock. The door swings open and a curly-haired young woman dressed in purple enters the spacious studio. She’s backing in, pulling a rolling cart in after her and talking loudly. “Well, that took longer than I thought it would, but I got all my tabs in order. My parents, of course, have been informed and I have all the instruments I need for—”
“Silence!” Mona thunders, her voice as dangerous as a runaway coal car.
The girl in purple whirls around. I take in her face and her outfit, my brain feeling scrambled because what I’m seeing does not compute. “Clarissa?” I say as dueling bubbles of wonder and dread vie for dominance in my stomach.
Her mouth drops open and a draft of air from the door pushes a curl into her mouth. She pulls it out with a hooked pinkie finger. “What are you doing upstairs?” Clarissa swivels in Mona’s direction. “You swore she wouldn’t remember me,” she says accusingly.
And then not even Marston’s hands can keep me upright as the wave of memories breaks free of whatever dam has been holding them back, and all the events of the last twenty-four hours come rampaging back to the front of my mind.
I fall on my butt and scuttle backward, my bare feet scrabbling for purchase on the smooth polished floor.
“Grab her, dammit!” Clarissa yells, and she charges after me. Marston seems torn but takes a stuttering step in my direction.
Mona places the tips of her index fingers against her temples. “Heidi, I’m so sorry,” she says mournfully. “Let me fix this.”
“No!” I cry, jerking my head from side to side. “Stay away from me!”
“Oh darling, I can’t. You must not remember being inside Watcher Citadel, ever. Or what happened with the cancellation attempt. It’s for your own protection.”
I run into the wall behind me, and Marston, Clarissa, and Mona close in on me in a semi-circle, like I’m an escaped lion and they’re all dressed in raw meat. I shake my head violently, but there’s no escape for me.
Mona presses one palm against my forehead and places the other hand behind my neck, tipping my head back at a sharp angle. Her eyes look wet and sad. “Let me help you, Heidi.”
My breath is a ragged gasp. “No.”
Mona presses her lips together in a thin line, her expression sorrowful but determined as her fingertips dig into my scalp. “This time, I’m afraid it’s going to hurt.”
19
The Studio
“I thought you said you handled it, Mona.” Clarissa rubs the side of her face, where an angry red mark blossoms across her cheek. It will bruise later. “This doesn’t seem handled at all.”
“Shut up, Clarissa. If you’d kept that leg pinned down better, you wouldn’t have gotten kicked. Now stop interrupting me or I’ll never finish the wipe, let alone implant the decoy memories she obviously needs.”
Mona squeezes her eyes shut and screws her index fingers back and forth against Heidi’s temples. “Dammit, it’s so much harder when she fights me,” she mutters. “Last time, she let me in of her own free will. Now I need a mental battering ram.”
“This is terrible. The whole thing is sick,” Marston says from across the room.
“Well, if you would help me subdue her, our master Minder here could probably concentrate better and work faster,” Clarissa says sarcastically.
“I won’t lay a finger on her,” Marston vows. “I’ll have no part in this.”
Mona breaks concentration again with an exasperated huff. “I’ll need you to carry her to the bathtub, Marston. I should have fully immersed her in water the last time. I thought a shower would be sufficient, but obviously, I won’t make that mistake again.”
“And I told you I won’t help you brutalize her mind. You should have never tried wiping her in the first place. She could have handled the truth.”
“I don’t appreciate your Monday morning quarterbacking and I’m getting her in the bathtub whether you like it or not, Marston. But I can’t lift her by myself. So what do you want me to do, shove her down the stairs? Because she’s going into the basement one way or the other.”
“That sounds fine to me,” Clarissa says, rubbing her cheek again.
In a flash, Heidi’s leg whips out and lashes Clarissa across the other side of her face. “You evil little witch!” Clarissa shrieks.
She pounces on Heidi’s prone form and jams her elbow into the hollow of Heidi’s neck.
“Get off her!” Marston roars. He flies across the room, picks up Clarissa, and flings her away from Heidi. Three-quarters of Heidi’s body lies as still as marble. Her right leg, however, flails wildly, windmilling in the air, kicking out and fighting.
“I don’t know why you can’t get that leg under control,” Clarissa snarls at Mona.
“I don’t know why, either, but you need to back off. I don’t care who your parents are at this point; neither one of them would blame me if I wiped and submerged you next.”
Spots of color appear high on Clarissa’s cheeks while the rest of her face goes deathly pale. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
On the floor, Heidi whimpers and tears leak out of each of her eyes simultaneously.
“Both of you, knock it off right now,” Marston thunders. “I’ll carry her downstairs. God, just finish your work, Mona. You’re torturing her.”
Mona’s eyes are anguished. “It’s the last thing I wanted, Marston.”
“I don’t even know why you two care so much; she’s just a gray,” Clarissa sneers. “And if you do your job thoroughly this time, she shouldn’t even remember that fact. And she won’t remember this, either.” She rears back her hand and tries to slap Heidi’s face, but Marston catches her wrist and twists it backward until Clarissa yelps in pain.
“Don’t try that again,” he says through gritted teeth.
“I’m nearly done, Marston,” Mona says. “Put your hand on Heidi’s shoulder. Yes…that seems to calm her.”
A pained expression crosses Marston’s face, but Heidi’s leg has stopped convulsing. With a shuddering sigh, she places her foot flat on the floor, her right knee bent, her muscles visibly relaxed.
“You have the magic touch,” Mona murmurs. “Hold it just like…that. Yes. Okay, done.”
Clarissa takes a step back and Marston does too. His face falls into his hands.
“Well?” Mona prompts.
“Well what?” he mutters.
“You don’t want to have to do this again, do you?” she snaps. “Get her downstairs. She needs full submersion in a warm bath.”
Destination Unknown (Lumen Academy Book 1) Page 12
