Talented

by Sophie Davis

  It was unlikely that Ian Crane’s sight was as good as mine so the rational part of me knew that there was no way he’d noticed from across the room. Even if he’d seen see the purple iris, it didn’t really mean anything. After all, the Coalition was anti-Talent and, while not all people with off colored eyes were Talents, many Talents did have distinctly colored eyes. I was willing to bet that many people in Coalition territories wore lenses to hide their true eye color.

  I opened my mind to make Ian Crane forget what he’d anything seen, but as soon as I opened it, I snapped it shut again.

  When I first went to the McDonough School, Mac had taught me the sense-strengthening exercises that I still used today. In return, I trained Mac’s mind. I worked every day with him, teaching Mac to identify mental intrusions and, eventually, to block them. I was willing to bet that, despite Ian Crane’s stance on Talents, he’d had similar coaching.

  He held my eyes for a second too long to be chance. When Ian Crane finally pulled his gaze from mine, he turned to the man on his right, careful to conceal his lips as he whispered in the ear of the shorter man. The man gave a quick nod and took off towards the door. Panic now warred with my fury. Did he know who I was?

  Gritting my teeth, I swallowed over the lump in my throat. Crane thought that there was something not right with me. I couldn’t be sure he’d been conditioned against mental intrusions, but I was positive that he could feel that something was different about me; the realization was written all over his face.

  Mac had often said that most people can feel exceptionally strong Talents, and he’d explained that’s why most people have some sort of reaction to me. For some, the power that I –or any other strong Talent – exude unnerves them causing them to shy away from me. For others the power was like a drug, drawing them to us. By the way that Ian Crane had just looked at me, I knew that he was a mixture of both. I didn’t need to read his mind to know that he feared the power he didn’t, and couldn’t, understand. Yet he also craved it, wanted to be close to it.

  Crane knew just by my presence that I was exceptionally strong – that was the only explanation for his interest in me. The Coalition, and Crane by extension, might reject the idea of being Talented, but with just one look, Crane had confirmed that his inner-circle consisted of strong, rare Talents. He was clearly intrigued by them, drawn to them.

  Kyle was talking about something that I’d missed entirely, but luckily he seemed oblivious to my blank stares and lack of response. I let him babble about nothing through dinner, being sure to insert the appropriate “oh really” or “you don’t say”, so he would think that I was paying attention. In reality, I was plotting my next move.

  I’d prepared myself to go into Crane’s place tonight, but I’d hoped that it was going to be a first, “get myself acquainted” kind of trip. Now it looked more like it would be a quick and dirty, once-over kind of trip. Mac was not going to be happy.

  I ran through a mental checklist of the items in my bag; I had all three pairs of eye lenses and my portable communicator. Once inside, I would be able to take as many pictures as times I could blink. If all went according to plan, I wouldn’t come face-to-face with Ian Crane. If I could manage to avoid Crane, tonight I would be able to use Kyle a little longer. If things didn’t go according to plan, I would be forced to make a hasty escape from Nevada. My only hope was that I’d be able to take Crane’s life with me.

  The waitress arrived with our dinner, bringing me back to the present, and out of my head. I forced myself to eat the chunky beef and vegetable stew that Kyle had ordered for me. I was going to need all of my strength tonight and all I’d eaten today was the dried meats and fruits in the cabinets of my apartment.

  Take me back to Crane’s house, I ordered Kyle, as soon as I finished inhaling the stew. Kyle immediately threw some money on the table, grabbed my hand, and began leading me out of the pub. Several of Crane’s other men watched us wind our way through the crowded tables, but nobody tried to stop us. I took that as a good sign.

  Crane himself was holding court in the center of the room. His eyes bore into my back as I walked past his table. Holding my breath, I willed myself to act normal. The urge to attack him was still strong, I gripped fistfuls of my dress in my balled-up hands to keep from lashing out.

  Kyle led me out the glass doors.

  You overhead us saying that we’re going back to my apartment, I directed to the guards as we passed by. I wasn’t positive that it took in either man’s mind, since I didn’t make eye contact – not a necessity, but definitely a help – I did see one guard giving the other a knowing smile out of the corner of my eye.

  I was firmly tuned in to Kyle’s mind; his every thought was filling my own head, as if he was speaking out loud. His inner monologue consisted mostly of thoughts that simultaneously disgusted me and made me blush. It was odd being connected to the mind of somebody who didn’t know that I was there. Sure, I sometimes read the minds of people around me, but I’d learned early on that I really didn’t want to hear every thought that passed through somebody else’s subconscious.

  The connection wasn’t strictly one way; opening up my mind to connect with another person also made me extremely vulnerable. I could usually control the thoughts of mine that the other person saw or heard, but not always. Like with Erik.

  Donavon, Erik, and Henri had permitted me to read their thoughts. All three guarded parts of their minds that they didn’t want me to have access to. In return, I didn’t dig around to find out information that they didn’t want me to know. Well, I rarely dug around . . . in Henri’s mind. I admittedly took some liberties with Erik’s, but in my defense, Erik could always tell when I was in his mind and he’d never told me to get out. I thought my connection with Donavon had been more absolute but seeing as he managed to keep an entire affair from me, so I knew there were recesses of his mind I’d never penetrated.

  I felt bad openly listening to Kyle’s mind. It felt wrong and dirty, like I’d made him take off his clothes and sit naked while I interrogated him. I had to keep reminding myself that I was one of the good guys, and he was one of the bad guys. He was associated with the people who’d killed my parents, and tried to kill me, would have killed me.

  Kyle drove us the short distance from the pub back to Crane’s temporary residence. I took note of the passcode he entered at the gate, as the numbers flashed through his mind. Once inside the barrier, he pulled around to the back of the stone house. I blinked rapidly, turning my head from side to side, taking as many pictures as I could. Kyle parked the vehicle in a small, relatively empty lot behind the house. He turned to face me, one hand on the button that opened the vehicle doors. His thoughts turned anxious; he was having misgivings about bringing a stranger into Crane’s home.

  I gave him the most dazzling smile that I could manage. Crane won’t mind. I’m just a young girl, I won’t cause any trouble, I coaxed. His face relaxed and his thoughts returned to indecent. He pressed the button opening the doors. I walked around from my side and took his large meaty hand in my small one, calloused and scabbed from all my weapons and combat training. I realized my mistake a moment too late. His eyes grew wide as he ran his thumb across the pads of my palm. I told you that I worked on my parent’s farm, I quickly covered. His face smoothed as he recalled a memory that wasn’t his own – the one that I’d just implanted.

  Kyle led me up a stone walkway to the back of the house, where a guard stood watch. He had a large scoped rifle slung over one shoulder and two smaller guns holstered at his waist.

  “Kyle,” he called. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Hey Dan, this is Anna,” Kyle called back.

  “You know that you’re not supposed to bring visitors here,” his tone was disapproving, “even if they are cute little girls.” He slowly ran his eyes up and down the length of my body. I felt the overwhelming urge to shower. Anger and annoyance bubbled up inside of me. Little girl? I understand that at just shy of five feet, I’m smal
l, but little girl? He was lucky that I had yet to get what I came for, or else I would show him who was a little girl. I took several deep breaths to control my temper.

  It will be okay just this once, I directed towards both Dan the weaponed man and Kyle.

  “I guess it will be okay just this once,” they said in unison.

  “I will need to search you and your bag,” Dan insisted. I had a feeling that this had more to do with his skeevy nature than fear that I might actually be armed.

  Not necessary. Just let us in¸ I ordered. Dan the guard moved aside, letting us pass, but not before giving me another once-over. I shuddered.

  The interior of the house was dark, but my eyes adjusted quickly.

  Lead me to your room now, I ordered more forcefully than I intended. Kyle tripped over his own feet as he set off in the direction of his room at a near-run, dragging me along with him.

  As soon as we walked through his room door, I mentally pushed the door shut and engaged the lock. Kyle’s eyes widened.

  Lay down on your bed and go to sleep, I ordered. When you wake up, you will remember taking me home. I filled his head with a distorted mental image of myself. Many of Crane’s men had seen us together and could describe me, but conflicting descriptions might buy me some time later.

  Kyle obediently laid on top of his blankets. I waited until his breathing fell into an even rhythm, before creeping out of his room, locking the door behind me.

  I envisioned the floor plans for the house that I’d painstakingly committed to memory. Aware that my time was limited, I headed directly for Ian Crane’s office. I blinked rapidly, taking pictures, as I jogged silently through the long hallways and up several flights of stairs. I reached the heavy wooden door in under a minute. Placing my hand on the wood panels, I opened my mind, searching for people inside. There was no one. I forced the lock and slid the door open, just enough for me to squeeze through. Mentally, I closed and locked the door behind me. I reminded myself to breathe.

  Slowly, I scanned each wall with my eyes. I opened and closed them at a slow, even pace, praying that the pictures would be useful. After I was satisfied, I moved to Crane’s desk. I was no Crypto, and my knowledge of computers was limited, but I followed Blaine’s instructions for uploading the contents of the computer to my communicator. I connected my portable communicator to the computer and it turned it on. A screen appeared on the monitor, asking for a password. I typed a sequence of numbers into my communicator and waited while it thought. Blaine had explained that the communicator was programmed with code-cracking software; several agonizing seconds later, a password box on Crane’s computer filled with a row of black dots. It beeped loudly, three times, and then “password confirmed” appeared on the blue screen. The screen went blank, then text, numbers, letters and symbols appeared, scrolling white against a now-black background.

  Blaine had warned me that this might happen. He’d explained that everything on the computer was likely encrypted, and to just download the information as-is and let the Cryptos sort it out. I checked the screen of my communicator; the words “download started” appeared, followed by “download in progress.”

  While the download ran, I rifled through Crane’s desk. Most of the drawers were locked, so I mentally disengaged all of the bolts at once and drew them out on their runners. I didn’t really know what, if anything, I was looking for. Mac said to gather as much information as I could, so I began taking pictures of each and every document that I came across. When the download finished, I decided that my next stop would be the basement.

  The floor plans included underground dimensions that ran the length of the house. The aerial and satellite images that Cryptos had weren’t able to determine what was down there. The most likely answer was a laboratory. Whatever it was, it had to be important to warrant so much protection surrounding it; the Cryptos hadn’t been able to get images that were clear enough to determine what was down there, because the entire basement was shrouded in some type of image-blocking technology.

  Opening my mind, I pinpointed all of the men in the house. I tiptoed, moving as quickly as I dared, from Crane’s office down a lengthy hallway, and wound through the levels of the house until I found the door that led to the basement. I paused.

  I couldn’t feel any active minds behind the door, but it wasn’t because there weren’t any. When I opened my mind, I met resistance, but not the usual emptiness that indicated an absence of human brain activity. I pushed harder, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. Not good. I placed my hand on the door to the basement, and tried to disengage the lock. Nothing happened. Really not good. I tried once more, for good measure. Nothing. Crap.

  At school, Donavon and I had often found our way into restricted areas. Biometrically protected areas, I could handle. Security guards? Not a problem for somebody like me. But actual blocking technology? This was more advanced than anything that Toxic utilized. The School’s security measures were in place to keep out overly curious kids, but nothing like this. Even Elite Headquarters didn’t employ such advanced security measures.

  Brute force it was. With my mental faculties rendered useless, I had no other option. I was not super-humanly strong or anything, but I did train for physical combat almost every day of my life. The door was definitely alarmed; once I broke the lock, I forfeited any element of surprise that I currently had.

  Since I knew the general layout of the basement, I knew that there was an exit to the outside. I weighed my options. Whatever was behind this door was important. I knew that it was important going into the Mission, but the fact there was some type of protection that rendered my Talents useless meant that whatever was down there was really important. There was no question in my mind – the risk was worth it. I would just get in, take as many pictures as I could, then make for the exit door. I took several calming breaths, and then backed up several feet. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and prepared myself for the worst.

  I slipped off my sandals, before launching myself at the keypad next to the door. My bare heel made contact, crushing the keypad in one blow. Plastic cut the bottom of my foot, but I didn’t feel pain. I pulled the dangling fragments of the keypad from the wall, exposing the wiring. Reaching through the pocket of my dress, I withdrew a knife from the belt around my waist. I began slicing through wires at random, praying that one would unlock the door. I breathed a sigh of relief when the door let out a small whine and eased itself open.

  Immediately behind the door was a set of metal steps, so steep that I couldn’t see the bottom in the dark. I worried for a split-second that the security was in place wouldn’t allow me to focus my energy, but thankfully my fears were unfounded. I concentrated on my sight. My eyes adjusted to the absolute darkness in no time. Fearing that I’d already wasted precious time that I didn’t have, I tore off down the staircase.

  No alarms had gone off when I broke the keypad, but that only meant that they were silent. There was no way that a facility with so much protection wasn’t also alarmed.

  At the bottom of the steps, I made a snap decision and turned to the right. I ran down the corridor, mentally trying to open the doors lining either side; I was surprised to find that the doors responded to my mental Talents. The protections only worked to keep people outside from getting in. I searched for human minds, but I’d waited too long.

  Just as my mind registered a flurry of mental activity, in a room just ahead to my right, a huge man stepped through the door. I couldn’t stop myself in time, I barreled into him. His hands closed around my upper arms, gripping them so tightly I knew that I would bruise. Instinct took over, and I brought my knee up, directly into his groin. He groaned, but didn’t release me. His vice-like grip let up just enough for me to maneuver my hand into my pocket. I withdrew the first knife that my hand closed around, and I didn’t hesitate when I plunged it into his side.

  This time he released me. His hands sought the wound between his ribs. I took the opportunity to take the offensive
. I kicked behind his left knee, his legs buckling and he fell over. I aimed my next kick at his left kidney. He fell over flat on his stomach. I was on his back before he could react. I wrapped my right arm around his neck cutting off his air supply. He reached back, clawing at my face. He tried to pry my arm from around his throat but he was quickly losing consciousness. When his body finally went limp, I released my hold and eased his head to the floor.

  Preoccupied with the large man on the floor, I didn’t sense the second man come out of the room until it was too late. I craned my neck at the sound of his soft footfalls, just in time to see the glint of the silver needle before I felt the prick in the side of my neck. I looked up into the bright green eyes of the man holding the syringe. The metallic burn of chemicals filled my veins. So this was how I was going to die . . . I’d hoped it would be more dramatic. I didn’t even lift a finger to save myself before everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I came to. I wasn’t dead. Although I kind of wished I was. My head throbbed. A metallic taste filled my mouth – not blood, a chemical of some kind. I wished that it were blood. My vision was fuzzy, and I blinked several times in rapid succession, trying to clear the haze from my eyes. I was still wearing the lenses. Frantically, I turned my head from side to side, getting as many pictures of the room as possible. The room looked like it belonged in one of Toxic’s medical buildings. Several hospital-type beds were evenly spaced across the wall. Each bed had electronic monitors and a tray of syringes set up next to it. If I ever got out of here, these would be valuable.

  I moved only my head from side to side because that was all I could move. I looked down. I was strapped to one of the gurneys, my wrists and ankles shackled to the railings. Two leather straps, one across my chest, one across my hips, immobilized my body. I tugged on the restraints, testing their strength. They were pretty sturdy.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Talia,” a deep voice boomed. A tall, thin man walked into the room. His salt and pepper hair was cut close to his head, his coal-black eyes were small and beady in their deep sockets. Three heavily armed guards trailed in his wake.