by Sophie Davis
“Sure, you can go,” I told Rigsby.
Rigsby hesitated a moment longer before backpedaling into the hallway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he said.
Once we were alone, Donavon and I sized each other up. Neither of us wanted to be the first to break the silence. For my part, I had nothing to say. Mostly I felt sorry for Donavon, he’d been through a lot in the past couple of years. And as much as I hated to admit it, what he’d done for Alex gave me a smidgen of respect for him.
While I contemplated the reason for his visit, Donavon crossed the tiny cell in three long strides, catching me surprise with his quick movements. Suddenly we were standing nose to nose. The proximity made me want to back up, but I had nowhere to go. Donavon grabbed my shoulder and searched my face with an intensity that unnerved me.
“Can you hear me?” his voice asked inside my head. His eyes grew wider as he concentrated harder, the orbs nearly popping out of his face.
Once again I felt the need to back away. Donavon’s fingers were digging into bruised flesh, but I kept my expression blank and stood my ground.
“Yeah, I hear you,” I sent back warily. This type of mental communication was too intimate to share with Donavon. I didn’t want to see into his head.
“Is Alex safe? Can you see him? Is he still with Talia? Pretend his hurts.”
Donavon drew his free hand back, made a fist, and drilled it into my stomach. Only when he actually made contact, his knuckles barely touched my dirty shirt. The jab had come so quickly that his words didn’t register in time for me to react.
“Jesus, Kelley, how much of that drug have they given you?”
Donavon pushed me backwards, the backs of my knees hit the wire frame of the bed, and involuntarily I sat. The whole encounter was surreal, like the visions of Talia, and I had to pinch my arm to make sure this was actually happening.
“Erik!” Donavon sent. “Focus. Is Alex safe?”
I nodded stupidly. At the mention of Alex, I instantly saw him in my mind. He sat in a man’s lap, a man I knew well. My father. They were on a blue couch in the same tidy living room where I’d seen Talia become the wolf.
“Is he with Talia?”
I shook my head no.
“Do you know where Talia is?”
“Sort of,” I replied, no more eager to share my crazy theory that she was with Ian Crane and the not-dead Penny with Donavon than I was to share it with his father.
“Don’t think about her. When they take you to see Dr. Wythe, don’t think about Talia or Alex or whoever else they are with. Do you understand?”
Through the mental connection, his tone suggested he was talking to a child or someone slow in the head. He probably thought I was slow in the head, my sluggish reaction time and confused expression probably supported the theory.
“I get it,” I sent.
Donavon straightened, smoothed his suit, and fixed his tie, which had gone askew when he half-assed punched me.
“How are you doing this?” I asked suspiciously.
“Doing what?” Now Donavon was the one confused.
“This,” I tapped my temple to indicate the mental communication.
“I’m not. You are.” When I just gaped by way of response, Donavon continued. “The creation drugs you were injected with have Talia’s talent signature in them. Until they wear off, if they wear off, you will have all the same capabilities that she does. They have also given you viewing Talents. The Director thinks he will be able to use you to view Talia.”
Donavon’s admission shouldn’t have surprised me, not after hearing Crane say the same. But Donavon’s words confirmed that my visions weren’t hallucinations, Talia was with Ian Crane, Penny was alive, and the Coalition was coming to rescue me.
“The Director says you are either an extremely proficient blocker or your brain is fried from all the chemicals. I have a feeling I know which. Don’t let Talia down, and keep it up.”
With those parting threats, Donavon reached into his suit pocked, withdrew a wadded up napkin, tossed it on to the mattress beside me, and headed for the door. I waited until the locks clicked into place before opening the napkin. Inside were a handful of cheese cubes and dried fruit.
“Hey, jackass, couldn’t have brought me a key or a weapon?” I sent, unsure how far he’d gotten and whether he would be able to hear me.
Several seconds later, he replied. “Wouldn’t do you any good. You wouldn’t make it to the end of the hallway in your condition. I’m sorry, Erik,” he added after a pause.
Words I never thought I’d hear from Donavon McDonough, they made me smile. His apology meant nothing to me, but his visit gave me hope. The visions of Talia were real, and in two days she was coming for me. All I had to do was hold on to my sanity for a little longer. Donavon had said not to think about her when I was with Dr. Wythe. Fine, I could do that. But as long as I was alone, I couldn’t resist the urge to see her again. Particularly now that I knew the visions were real.
I lied down, closed my eyes, and went to her. This time it was easy to find her. Talia was curled up on a twin-sized bed, hair splayed across the pillow, and she was asleep. I should have slept, too. But I didn’t, I watched her instead.
As usual, thank you to my friends and family for all of your support. A big thank you to Hannah for her never-ending support and help promoting the Talented Series, without her none of this would be possible. Thank you to all of the readers who have joined me on Talia’s journey.
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