by Sophie Davis
“Sure thing, Talia.”
Dutifully, Frederick typed a string of numbers into his communicator and hit send. His bid appeared on the screen just above the previous one. Unlike Francie, for whom the bids had poured in high and fast, the same could not be said from the current Talent. There was interest, but very little compared to Francie.
Victoria was right to be worried. The attendees’ primary interest was the Created. However, it was unclear whether that was because they knew their true worth lay in the drug pumping through their veins or simply because they were rare.
“How far do you want me to take this?” Frederick asked.
“Um, just make another bid or two. If you end up winning, well, oops.”
I grinned, envisioning Victoria’s pinched expression when I told her we accidently bought Talents, too. Since yelling and screaming were too commonplace for the councilwoman, the repercussions would come in the form of a firm lecture laced with prickly barbs meant to scratch my ego. Nothing new. Nothing I couldn’t handle, if it meant saving some extra lives.
“Tal? I’m in position,” Henri said. “I can see what you were talking about—it’s definitely a tattoo. It sort of looks like an eye or something. It’s hard to tell, but I don’t want to get much closer in case he knows my face.”
My breath caught.
“An eye? Are you sure?” I asked Henri.
“Almost positive,” he replied.
Well, shit. That was so not good.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Erik asked.
“It might be a coincidence,” I hedged, praying that might be true.
To Henri, I said, “Can you get a picture?”
“Um, yeah, give me a second,” Henri answered. “Okay, got it. Sending the image to your communicator now. Oh, great,” he added. “The guy next to Tate thinks I’m checking him out.”
“So? You check out dudes all the time. What’s the problem?” Erik teased, speaking through the comm units.
Frederick snickered and I smiled. The two guys had been a couple for as long as I’d known them, and Henri only had eyes for his boyfriend. To him, monogamy meant more than just being physical with one person. It meant never letting his gaze roam. I respected that a lot. He was definitely a good influence on Erik, too.
“Too much chatter,” Catherine intoned. “Cease.”
She had a point. Comm units were not for idle chitchat during mission. Nevertheless, the commentary helped ease tension, in my opinion. And right now we needed any levity we could muster.
My communicator beeped, signaling the incoming image file from Henri. All traces of humor vanished the moment it downloaded on my screen. Three interlocking circles formed a black triangle on Ernest’s neck, with an eye peering out from the center.
Beside me, Fredrick sucked in air, apparently reaching the same conclusion I had.
“Does it mean anything to you?” Henri asked.
I hesitated. The symbol was one I recognized, though the meaning behind it was a mystery. I’d seen the eye symbol before, on a TOXIC research facility. Erik, Frederick, and I had been among a handful of agents sent to raid the facility after UNITED found its coordinates in a recovered data file on TOXIC’s servers.
Unfortunately, someone had beaten us there. Computers had been wiped, records destroyed, and any lingering vials of the drug—had they been there in the first place—were gone. The most disturbing part, however, was what, or rather whom, had been left behind: Created castoffs. Children, ranging in age from five to eighteen, were locked in rooms on one of the lower levels. Many of them half-crazy from the drug. Of all the horrific things I’d seen in my life, it topped my list. These were the children Cadence Choi spent her day helping, with the hope that one day they’d be able to move beyond the trauma they’d endured.
“Um, no, not really,” I mumbled, suddenly aware that everyone was waiting for me to say something. “We’ll discuss this later. Just don’t let Ernest out of your sight. And keep an eye out for other people we know in the crowd. Look around, see if you recognize anyone else. That goes for all of you.”
“That’s the same symbol from the facility outside of Manassas,” Fredrick said, speaking directly into my ear instead of using the comm. He obviously didn’t want to be overheard and I didn’t blame him. This mission was turning out to be trickier than we’d thought, this wrinkle was not something we could afford to dwell on right then. Ernest and his tattoo were important, but they didn’t change the mission. If anything, they made reaching our goal that much more imperative. So far, he’d only bid on the Created, just like us.
Before responding to Frederick, I muted my comm unit.
“I know. I’m sending it to Victoria now. There’s nothing more we can….”
My voice trailed off, index finger frozen over the send button.
“No, no, no, no…,” I whispered, unaware that I was even speaking aloud until Frederick jabbed me.
Though I was vaguely aware of him asking what was wrong, I didn’t answer. The rest of the team didn’t know either, since I’d turned my microphone off, and I was thankful for small favors.
While we’d been busy ogling Ernest’s ink, the auction had continued without us. On the screen was another familiar face from my past. A curtain of blue-black hair hung down over too-thin shoulders. Skin, tanned and healthy the last time I saw her, now appeared ashen, as if denied sunlight for weeks. Her emerald eyes had lost some of their sparkle, a thin layer of dust clouding the brilliant gems beneath. Unlike Francie Owens, the girl on the wallscreen shed no tears. Her expression was cold and hard. Much as I hated to admit the truth, even in chains Anya Pritcher was stunningly beautiful. Defiance looked good on her. Not for the first time, I realized that my boyfriend had a type: prideful.
Erik. Oh crap. Mental barriers slammed into place. Erik would know I was blocking him. If he was watching the auction on his own comm unit, he would know why. But he shouldn’t have to see this. Erik had suffered enough. Witnessing the humiliation of a girl he’d once cared about, once been intimate with, was not right.
“Buy her,” I demanded of Frederick. “Buy her now. I don’t give a damn whether she’s been infected or not. Just get her.”
Panic over this new development made my brain fuzzy. Frederick said something, but his words were incomprehensible over the buzzing in my head. Pounding, like a fist on a door, made me wince. Erik. He was literally beating on my mental walls, demanding to be let in.
Frederick’s bid appeared onscreen, only to be trumped by another immediately. Before I ordered him to bid again, his fingers were flying across his communicator’s keyboard.
The pounding in my head increased tenfold. Erik knew. Whether from the comm unit or from Henri or Frederick, both of whom knew Anya, Erik knew what I was trying to hide. Reluctantly, I lowered the barriers.
“How the hell did they get her?” Erik demanded, his words as sharp and deadly as daggers.
At a loss for words, let alone explanations, I sent calming thoughts his way. Knowing Erik as well as I did, a slew of inanimate objects was feeling his wrath as we spoke.
“I know you don’t like her, Tals, I get it, okay? But right now you need to put the bullshit aside and—”
“We’re already bidding, Erik. We’ll get her,” I interjected, not bothering to correct his assumption. Though his words did sting.
True, there was no love lost between Anya and me. My jealousy over her past relationship with Erik had been amplified by the Creation drug until it was a raging beast. It had nearly cost me our relationship, and was still a bit of a sore spot between us. She had slept with Erik and that irked me to no end. It was reason enough for me to hate her on principle. All the naked things Erik did with me, he’d done with her while I was still chasing Donavon around like a moron.
Still, I didn’t dislike Anya. If anything, I respected her a great deal. When Erik introduced me as his girlfriend the first time Anya and I met, she’d been visibly shaken by the label
. Physically, she was with Erik first, but his heart was never hers. The girlfriend title was never hers. And yet, when asked to put herself in danger to help me—the girl who had both the guy and the label Anya coveted—she didn’t hesitate. Helping me had been the right thing to do then, saving her was the right thing to do now.
Regardless of their past, Erik was more than just my current boyfriend. He was my heart, the other half of my soul, my future. He cared about Anya, so I did, too.
For Erik, there was nothing I couldn’t stomach.
“Tals, please.”
Erik’s heart was breaking. The tenuous hold on both his control and his sanity was slipping. Different factions of his mind were warring with each other. Concern for Anya vied for dominance over the part of him that was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone who threatened my happiness. Erik worried that even asking me to save her might jeopardize our relationship. That knowing he still cared about girl who had once been so much more than a friend might rekindle my old jealousies and drive a wedge between us.
Tears sprang to my eyes and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. There were so many things I wanted to say to Erik in that instant, but time was not a luxury we had. Blocking him from my head, to hide those jealous feelings he was so worried about, crossed my mind. But, if he got it together enough to look, I wanted Erik to see that, yes, I was jealous. But I wasn’t the insecure mess I’d been a few short months ago when he’d first told me about Anya. A lot had changed since that day in D.C. There was nothing, and no one, that held the power to break the bond connecting me and Erik.
“Listen to me, Erik,” I said, my voice backed by more manipulation than I’d ever used with him. “You trust me, right? Trust that I will rescue Anya. For you. For me. For her. I owe her. And I want to repay that debt. Trust me to handle this. You need to calm down.”
Authority laced every syllable I spoke, allowing no question that Erik would comply. Manipulating someone I loved unconditionally sucked, it was a violation of his trust. But in that moment, it was also necessary. No matter the number of times I told Victoria that Erik was in control, he wasn’t. Not when strong emotions overshadowed his judgment, as they were doing just then. He was on the verge of storming the auction house doors and I couldn’t let that happen. It would end badly for all of us.
“Do you understand me?” I sent when Erik remained silent.
“Yes.”
His one word reply came out sounding drugged, causing me to wonder if maybe I’d used too high a dose of power.
“Talia, we’re over a million. Are you sure about this?” Frederick asked. “Only one Talent is listed, she’s definitely not Created.”
Meeting Frederick’s wide brown gaze, I prepared to use my Talents on him. But it wasn’t necessary. Determination leaked from my pores, so strong that Frederick obviously felt the emotions I was projecting. He sucked in air, as if my force of will had stolen his breath.
“Brand is screaming in my ear, Tal. You better say something to him,” Frederick replied, fingers flying to place another bid. “Agent Canary, too. I’ve never heard her string so many words together.”
Turning my comm unit back on, I cut off Brand mid-rant.
“This one is on me. I’ll take full responsibility with Victoria and the council. Just let it go.”
“Why?” Brand demanded, undeterred by my orders.
“You’re violating direct orders,” Catherine added.
Expecting Erik to interject with a tirade of his own, I remained silent. When he said nothing, I again worried that the manipulation had been too strong. To Brand and my other opponents, I said, “Because I said so. That’s why. I’m well aware I’m violating orders, Agent Canary. I, and I alone, will deal with the repercussions. Let. It. Go.”
Flawless logic, I know. But even if time wasn’t an issue, there was no way I was sharing my personal history with every listening ear. It was bad enough that all the agents on my team, Catherine’s team, and the strike teams just heard me admit to deliberately defying directs orders. Yeah, Victoria bitching me out was the best case scenario. More likely, I’d be hauled in front of the entire council and sanctioned for insubordination.
“Sold! For 1.7 million globes to bidder 4513,” the auctioneer proclaimed.
Suddenly, Frederick’s image was on the wallscreen. He smiled and waved sheepishly for the cameras.
“Thank you,” I said, once the cameras panned out to show the crowd.
“Don’t mention it. She’s my friend, too. I’ll take the heat from Victoria with you.”
I scoffed.
“Thanks, but I like you too much to feed you to that she-wolf.”
As a preemptive strike, I considered messaging Victoria right then to explain my actions before another agent got the chance. It would give her time to be pissed and then cool down, before I had to face her. I eyed my communicator speculatively. The image of Ernest’s tattoo was still up on my screen. I hit send. Maybe that would distract Victoria from any tattletale messages surely bombarding her inbox.
That was when I noticed an unread message in my own inbox. It was from Riley, a fully detailed report on the Lady Lucinda room and the other matters I’d requested. I had to hand it to the guy, he was a great emissary. He’d managed to get all of the information I wanted, in record time. I forwarded the report to Erik and the rest of the strike team, just in case things went south and we needed to stage a mass rescue. That room would be the mission target.
“Oh man, not him, too.” Henri’s voice in my ear brought my attention back to the wallscreen.
Dread as thick as the London fog caused my eyes to squeeze shut, before finally allowing myself to process who I was seeing. My thoughts echoed Henri’s words. Arden Greis. He’d been Donavon’s team leader during his time with the Hunters. We’d been friendly without really being friends. Arden and Henri were around the same age, and had probably pledged the Hunters together. Arden was once our coworker—mine, Penny’s, Erik’s, and Henri’s.
“How the hell did they get so many of us?” I groaned, unaware I’d spoken aloud until Frederick pulled me in for a hug.
“I don’t know, Talia. I just don’t know.”
Unable to watch another of my brethren humiliated by this public spectacle, I focused on the communicator clutched in my white-knuckled hands. It buzzed with another incoming comm. Figuring it was a response from Victoria about Ernest’s tattoo, I tapped to view it.
Somehow, with everything else in play, the words still managed to bring a whole new wave of terror crashing over me.
* Hello, Natalia. It’s nice to see you again.*
“THERE’S AN EXIT door at the end of the hallway with the Lady Lucinda room,” I said, pointing to the holographic blueprints projecting from the heli-hover’s dash. “We’ll be able to enter directly through that door and get the captives out without drawing attention.”
“Look, I know you have a friend in there—” Miles began.
Even in my enraged state, I knew hitting the control panel again was a bad idea. Metal groaned as my fist flew into the door instead, leaving a small dent in its wake.
“Erik,” Janelle soothed, “we have to be smart here. The strike teams are only for backup. We’re under strict orders—”
“Screw orders,” I growled. “I want Anya out of there now.”
“Our people bought her,” Janelle reasoned. “Which means she will be out soon. With us. Once the auction ends, Talia and the others can go pickup their…um…winnings? Regardless, it won’t be much longer now.”
A total of six UNITED agents were assembled in our helicopter, but only Miles and Janelle weighed in on my desired plan change. Everyone else was too nervous to cross me, worried speaking up might draw my ire in their direction.
Rescuing the captives now was risky, and, yes, maybe a little rash. But I wasn’t about to leave Anya there a second longer. That girl had been through hell because of me. Endured psychological torture because of me. Anya was the reaso
n McDonough’s entire Created initiative or whatever was discovered. She was the one who’d tested Talia’s blood after the infusion from Donavon, and learned that she somehow had two Talent Signatures. From there, Anya had deduced that Talia was infected with the Creation drug, the only way a second Talent Signature could just suddenly appear. That key piece of information had blown open TOXIC’s operation. It was the driving force behind Talia, Cadence, and I running away from the agency and taking Alex with us.
Unwilling to leave my family behind to serve as whipping boys in my stead, I’d attempted to rescue them. The rescue, technically, was a success. It was the getaway that failed fantastically. I’d been captured and thrown in jail on trumped up charges of kidnapping and just about every other offense Danbury McDonough could imagine on short notice. Really, though, he just wanted me at his mercy, so his henchmen could extract their pound of flesh every time I refused to divulge Talia and Alex’s whereabouts. When that hadn’t yielded the desired results, McDonough had struck the lowest blow of all: imprisoning and torturing Anya to force me to talk.
Between the drugs I’d been given and my stint as a punching bag, the details were a little fuzzy. I remembered them bringing Anya into my cell at Tramblewood. I remembered her screaming and sobbing and begging. But not once had Anya begged me for help. Not once had she asked me to give in, to tell them what they wanted to know and save her. No, she’d begged me to stay strong, to keep my mouth shut, and never to lose sight of the bigger picture. She knew better than I did the importance of keeping Talia and Alex away from TOXIC.
After the battle in D.C., I’d, regrettably, given little thought to Anya and what had become of her. With TOXIC defeated and so many of the operatives on the lam, it seemed reasonable that she was too. I’d never imagined this fate for her. At that moment, I felt responsible for my ex-girlfriend, who’d thrown her allegiance with me and my current girlfriend, even knowing it was a death sentence.
“I don’t want to wait,” I snapped. “Anya…she doesn’t deserve this. You don’t understand.”
Janelle rested her hand on my shoulder.
