by Sophie Davis
The thought of so much bloodshed on my account made me sick to my stomach.
“It’s not your fault, Erik,” Penny said quietly, reading the thoughts I had yet to voice aloud.
I glared at her. Penny realized her error, instantly turning bright red. Which made me feel a little bad, since I knew she wasn’t being malicious. Just not bad enough to apologize.
Telepathy was relatively new to both of us, so controlling the urge to read others’ minds while also actively blocking their thoughts was not something either of us had mastered. Still, we’d both spent enough time around Talia to know just how intrusive it was to have another person experience your mental ramblings. Penny didn’t like it any more than I did.
I’d give anything to have her here, I thought wistfully.
Unlike with Miles, I would have welcomed Talia’s face hovering over mine. Love and concern swirling in her eyes, vengeance coursing through her veins.
Unfortunately, Talia wasn’t here, and wouldn’t be showing up any time soon. At least, I was guessing Vault didn’t grant Level Five prisoners furloughs to visit their barely injured boyfriends in the hospital.
Maybe I should check with Victoria on that, I thought, adding it to my mental to-do list.
Of course, thinking about Tals on Vault instantly wiped the smile from my face. From what I’d been told, the dangerous prisoners—and Talia was considered one of the most dangerous of all—were heavily sedated. The thought of my headstrong, passionate girlfriend reduced to a vacant-eyed zombie made my blood boil.
Naturally, I grabbed the glass of water sitting on my tray and rocketed it across the hospital room. Erratic beeping instantly blared from the speakers on my heart monitor, only to be outdone by the shattering of the glass against the wall.
“Erik, calm down,” Penny coaxed inside my head.
“Come on, kid. Stay in control,” Miles said.
Nurses, doctors, and several of my security detail rushed the door, causing a slight traffic jam as they all tried to shove inside the room at once. It was kind of hilarious to watch. I laughed, making the concerned expression on Miles’s face turn to panic.
In a flurry of activity, the doctors and nurses crowded around my bed, restraints and syringes of sedatives at the ready. It was my turn to panic. I didn’t want them pumping me full of drugs. I didn’t want them knocking me out. I wanted to return to Eden. I wanted to return to Talia. Our planned visit was still eighteen hours away, but maybe, just maybe, if I played the sympathy card, Victoria would find it in her heart to let me see Tals sooner.
If not, well, at least I’d be able to go to our apartment, sleep in the bed Talia and I had shared, and shower in the bathroom where her soap, shampoo, and toothbrush remained untouched.
Thoughts of snuggling beneath the same sheets I’d laid in with her, where I’d held Talia in my arms, nearly caused my heart monitor to explode.
“Out!” Penny bellowed. The one word carried so much authority that everyone in the room froze. It was like time itself had been paused. At a much more normal volume, though no less powerful, she repeated, “Out. All of you. I will handle this.”
Without a single word of protest, the medical staff and UNITED guards, including Miles, plodded from the room. Penny strode over to the bed, gave the beeping machine a once-over, and then placed her palm on top of the electronic monitor. Faint blue-white light burst from her hand, sparks shooting between her splayed fingers as audible cracks and pops added to the cacophony of sounds from the monitor. Then, a shockwave of pure, raw electricity surged from Penny and into the machine.
With that, the room fell blissfully silent.
Squeezing my eyelids shut, I counted to ten, a trick I’d picked up from Talia. When I was fully in command of my emotions again, I opened my eyes and met Penny’s gaze.
“Better?” she asked, the question perfunctory since she was still inside my head.
“Yeah, thanks, Penny. Really.” I rubbed my forehead wearily. “I’m sorry, it’s just…I don’t know what it is exactly. I can’t seem to….” I trailed off, hating to admit weakness, even to someone who understood and appreciated my inner turmoil.
“Control yourself?” Penny guessed. She reached behind her for a chair, pulled it beside the bed, and sat.
I nodded, not wanting to say the words aloud.
“I feel the same way,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s getting harder to fight the urge to lash out. Or, sometimes, to simply breakdown and cry. The other day Brand was telling me about this new pizza place he’d found, and I lost it.” Laughing bitterly, Penny shook her head, clearly embarrassed by the memory. “I screamed at him, told him not to bother calling again if all he wanted to talk about was what he’d eaten for dinner. Then….” Penny paused, looking mortified. “Then I crushed my communicator between my hands.”
I smiled, though the situation wasn’t funny in the least. “I’m sure he deserved the yelling, whether for pizza or for something else. Brand’s a good guy and all, but he does have a tendency to say asinine shit.”
This made Penny chuckle. “Yeah, but he usually reserves those comments for people who aren’t me.” She took a deep breath, her expression and thoughts once again turning serious. “Sometimes I feel like the power is consuming me from the inside. Using my new talents makes it worse, I think. But not using them is physically painful. The pressure inside of me builds, and it feels like claws are scraping the underneath of my skin, trying to rip it open and find release. The only way to relieve the pressure and lessen the pain is to use my talents. Which, of course, makes me feel like I’m barely hanging on to my sanity by a thread. It’s a vicious cycle.”
When our gazes met, Penny’s lime green eyes were moist with unshed tears. She began to chew her bottom lip and fidget with her shirt cuffs, as if needing to keep her fingers occupied. I never knew what to do when girls cried, so I just reached over and awkwardly patted Penny’s shoulder.
In the month we’d been traveling the world together, we rarely spoke about the toll the creation drug was taking on us both. Sure, we joked about losing our minds whenever one of us did something particularly irrational or ridiculous. But, with no cure in sight, joking seemed the only way to cope with the uncertainty of our futures. Well, that and Talia.
Until that moment, I hadn’t thought it possible for me to miss Talia any more than I already did. Everything Penny had just said, Talia understood firsthand, and had dealt with it her entire life. She would’ve been a much better person to have this discussion with.
Talia knew how to reign in her overabundance of power, how to control it. The fact that she frequently lost control had more to due with her impulsive nature than an inability to temper the demons inside. Of course, the ability to channel her power effectively hadn’t come overnight; Talia learned how over the course of years, under the tutelage of instructors trained to deal with inexperienced people possessing strong talents. Penny and I didn’t have anything like that.
Penny wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and gave me a watery smile.
“Sorry. I usually talk to Brand about all of this stuff. Well, when I’m not screaming at him for no reason,” she rambled. “He’s just been so busy helping my uncle, and I hate dragging him down with my problems when we only have like five minutes to talk each night. I know the work he’s doing, trying to repair the U.S. and get support for the vote, is super important. Really, I get that. I just miss him.”
Brand Meadows, Penny’s boyfriend, was currently serving as Ian Crane’s second-in-command over in the United States. I could relate to what she was feeling, though I would’ve given anything for even five minutes on the phone with Tals every night. Still, what were you supposed to do when the person you relied on was gone?
Again, I patted Penny’s shoulder awkwardly. I debated hugging her, but I’d barely touched another girl since losing my heart to Talia, even a close friend like Penny. In the end, I simply squeezed her forearm. Anything more would’
ve been weird.
“You can always talk to me,” I told her. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie and tell you that I have some great wisdom to impart, because I don’t. Really, all I know is that this sucks. The entire situation is completely messed up, and it sucks hard. All that stuff you just said? I feel it, too. And I really hate not being able to talk to Talia about it. She’s the only person I’ve ever really opened up to. Regardless of that, and regardless of the fact I’m not Brand and don’t really know anything about anything, I’m always here to listen.”
“Talia’s lucky to have you,” Penny said, and I could tell she meant it. With one last sniffle, she stood. “Now, I’m going to find someone with an ounce of authority to inform them it’s time we went home.”
I chuckled. “If that display earlier is any indication, I’m guessing we’ll be on a hover within the hour,” I teased.
Penny paused in the doorway and winked. “Bet on it.”
True to her word, Penny returned ten minutes later with Miles, Agent Dan, and a dazed man in scrubs.
“Agent Kelley, I am Dr. Bollinger,” the scrub-wearing man greeted me, extending a hand to shake. “Victoria Walburton sent me to examine you for neural damage that might have been inflicted just before the explosion. Let me get up to speed, then we can talk about any findings.”
The doctor turned his attention from me to the screen with the scans of my brain. Rather, where the scans of my brain had been, until Penny fried the entire system. The doctor did a double take when he saw the blank displays.
“What happened here?” he asked.
“It was the weirdest thing,” Penny began, her expression all doe-eyed innocence. “It just stopped working. Maybe there was a power surge or something?”
Miles snorted. Agent Dan kept his expression neutral, only the quick flit of humor in his light eyes betraying his amusement.
“A power surge?” Dr. Bollinger repeated, skepticism oozing from his words. “What is your talent again, Agent Crane?”
I had to hand it to Penny. When faced with the level of scrutiny she was receiving, most people would have at least blushed. Then again, most people weren’t international spies with “successfully infiltrated a top-secret government organization” listed under the accomplishments in their personnel files. Subterfuge and complex covert operations were Penny’s specialty, so lying to a doctor—even a UNITED doctor—was nothing.
Penny smiled placidly at the doctor. “At last count, I had twelve talents, Dr. Bollinger.”
If the man was surprised to learn that she was Created, he didn’t let on.
“I’d wager that one of them is electrical manipulation,” he said dryly.
“Maybe even two,” Penny agreed.
“Look,” I interjected, trying to yank the conversation back on track. “My vitals are good, you don’t need those damned monitors to tell you that. More importantly, I feel fine. The worst physical injury is a small flesh wound, which was stitched up. My brain is no more damaged than it was six hours ago. There’s no reason I can’t fly home now.”
Miles inched forward to stand between the doctor and me. Uncrossing his arms, he held up a hand to silence Dr. Bollinger before the man even opened his mouth. I glared at the older agent. He’d purposely inserted himself into the proverbial line of fire, under the mistaken belief that this would thwart my efforts to bend the doctor’s will to match my own. Even after spending a month in close quarters with Penny and me, Miles didn’t seem to understand that eye contact, while helpful, was not necessary for manipulation.
“You need to rest, kid. Let the doc examine your head, just to be safe,” Miles said firmly. “Another few hours here, hell, even a day or two, won’t kill you. You’ll finally have a day off—enjoy it.”
Weeks ago, at the start of this charade with the rallies, I’d sworn under penalty of a major ass-kicking never to compel Miles. With the exception of several minor suggestions, I’d kept my promise. Penny, however, wasn’t under the same obligation.
“I got this,” she told me mentally.
“Erik is fine, Agent DeSanto,” Penny said aloud. “I can personally attest to the fact that his brain has suffered no additional damage. I spend a lot of time in Erik’s head, reading his thoughts and emotions, so I’m uniquely qualified to make such an assessment. There has been no change in his brain patterns or activity since the attack.” Done with Miles, she turned a dazzling smile on Dr. Bollinger. “Returning to the Isle will speed his recovery, wouldn’t you agree?”
Penny’s powers of manipulation were so refined that both men capitulated without hesitation.
“Thank you, Agent Crane. I appreciate your assistance in this matter,” the doctor said, without a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “And I quite agree that familiar surroundings will aid Agent Kelley’s recovery. I will go request the medi-hover be readied for takeoff.”
“It’ll do you good to be back near that girlfriend of yours,” Miles agreed readily.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as thoughts of Talia once again filled my head. Since that fateful day she’d been sedated, restrained, and hauled off to Vault, all I’d wanted was to hold her in my arms again. The events at Walburton Manor and my inability to save Talia from prison were things I’d never forgive myself for. Talia had needed me, and I’d been powerless to help her. Her punishment should have been mine. Or, at the very least, one we shared.
Would she be able to forgive me?
“She made a choice. And I can assure you that, given the chance, she would make that same choice all over again,” Penny sent. It was her turn to pat me awkwardly on the arm.
Aloud, she declared, “It’s time to go home.”
The Privileged
Besançon, France
Four Days Before the Vote
Kev Leon—the Kev Leon, star of the highest-grossing movie franchise of all time, Tides of Fortune—was alive. And not only alive, but also standing ten feet from Cressa.
This. Was. Epic. The fact that he wasn’t dead, but walking, talking, and attending the Institute was simply unbelievable. It would’ve been, if Cressa hadn’t seen the A-lister with her own eyes. Even as she stood beside Kev on the elevator to the dorms, breathing the same air, Cressa had a hard time wrapping her head around the sudden development.
Mr. and Mrs. Karmine had told Cressa that most of the Institute’s students came from prestigious old families, though there might also be well-known athletes, video stars, or otherwise famous students. After all, they’d reminded her, the best of the world’s best were selected for instruction at the Institute. Of course, her parents had failed to mention that those famous faces might belong to people the world presumed deceased.
But Cressa wasn’t complaining.
“Cadet Karmine is also a brand-new 2P,” Gregor told Kev as the elevator zoomed northward. “She also just received her light manipulation injection, so you will be in lessons together.”
Kev’s empty gaze darted towards Cressa. Blushing a deep crimson, she gave the teen idol a small, giddy wave. An emotion too complex for Cressa to decipher in that heart-stopping moment flitted briefly across Kev’s blue irises. Cressa melted. Madame Gillis, the 1P initiator, had told her that the Dame could make Cressa’s wildest dreams come true, but she’d never imagined that included her daydreams about meeting Kev Leon. Suddenly, Cressa wanted to take back every questioning thought she’d ever had about her decision to come to the Institute. With the introduction of Kev, the Dame’s program was instantly the greatest thing to ever happen to Cressa.
“Becoming acquainted with your fellow 2Ps is very important,” Gregor continued when neither of them replied to his introduction, a slight edge to his tone.
Though she was starstruck, and utterly unable to form coherent words, she realized it was odd that Kev didn’t take the opening—he was known to be warm and inviting, with a big personality. Fans waited for hours in the rain, snow, or blood-boiling temperatures just to catch a glimpse of the boy the press had dubbed Mi
das, and he never disappointed. Kev spent more time visiting with fans, signing comms and posing for pictures than any other actor on the planet.
Staring at Kev in the bright lights of the elevator car, Cressa thought that maybe all the media hype was just that—hype. Because Kev Leon wasn’t nearly what she thought he’d be, both in manner and appearance. His golden hair had surpassed messy and simply appeared unkempt. The rich, tanned skin that came from the perfect blend of several diverse ethnicities was no longer smooth and radiant. Instead, Kev suffered from the same blemishes on his chin that Cressa did. In the life-size e-poster on Cressa’s bedroom wall in Boston, the blue of Kev’s eyes was hypnotic, his gaze as soulful as the deepest parts of the most beautiful ocean. In real life, those eyes were more like shallow tide pools.
And still, Cressa thought Kev Leon was quite possibly the most perfect male specimen alive, blemishes be damned.
“My name is Cressa, Cressa Karmine,” Cressa said helpfully.
Kev stared at her blankly.
“I know who you are, of course. I mean, everyone knows who you are,” she rambled, hoping for even a glimmer of a reaction.
“2P male dormitory,” the mechanical voice announced as the elevator came to a smooth stop on Kev’s floor.
The doors slid soundlessly apart, giving Cressa a glimpse of a beautiful glass atrium with colorful stained glass tiles decorating one wall, and a large archway in the middle of the space.
Gregor nudged Kev Leon in the ribs. The actor shuffled forward, exiting the car without ever acknowledging Cressa. Her heart sank. Gregor gave Cressa and Leslie a curt nod before following.
“Oh, Gregor?” Leslie called after her classmate. The 8P boy turned. “Did you receive the message from the Dame? She wants to meet with both of us in the morning, directly after breakfast.”
Cressa’s gaze was still locked on Kev, who was just about to pass through the archway on the far wall. He paused and turned back, glancing quickly from Gregor to Leslie. Finding their attention on each other, Kev Leon smiled sadly at Cressa. Her heart pitter-pattered, leaping in to her throat. It was the same look he’d given Alice, his girlfriend in Tides of Fortune, as she lay dying in his arms after being blasted with a Plutonian death pistol.
