by Sophie Davis
“Bidder number 2641, you may claim your purchase in the Lady Lucinda suite,” pink lips proclaimed cheerily. Once she already had almost a million Globes from the sale of a single item, the woman was a wealth of congeniality.
The image on the wallscreen changed again. To the woman in the yellow dress.
My former instructor and the strangely familiar woman had just engaged in a bidding war over Francie. What did that mean? It wasn’t a coincidence, I was positive. Two Americans bidding furiously on a Created meant something important.
But what?
Another cube image filled the wallscreen. An older man, maybe thirty-five or forty came into focus. He wore black trousers and a white button-down. The same as James. Shoving that thought so far back in my mind that I would hopefully never again find it, I watched the bidding process for a second time.
The bids didn’t come in nearly as fast or go nearly as high as they had for Francie. Nonetheless, I studied the bidders themselves, keeping track of every offer. Neither Ernest’s number nor the woman in the yellow dress’s number came up.
When two more Talents from England were offered and sold without a single bid from the Americans, I allowed myself a shred of hope. Alas, dread and apprehension came right along with it.
They are both only after Created. Why? Is one of them working for UNITED? That makes sense—let the Poachers do all of the work and then come to collect the prize. But then who’s the other one working for?
Considering the way I’d felt not long ago at all, it was rather surprising that the possibility of UNITED’s presence was comforting instead of terrifying. Nigel Monroe had been right about one thing during our meeting in the study: I’d once desperately feared containment.
Sadly, I was facing prospects far more frightening than being held by UNITED. This was particularly true since I’d seen that article about a possible antidote. Even though I didn’t want to lose my Created powers, if UNITED was to offer release from containment contingent upon receiving the antidote, I’d accept it in a heartbeat.
It was by far the least of all the evils I was facing. Given the choice between losing my Created powers and permanent containment, living out my life as a slave, or being beaten to death in the streets…my powers were a sacrifice that I was willing to make. Particularly the Visions.
At first, I’d thought future gazing would be awesome. Now that I’d actually experienced several Visions, I was ready to give that particular gift back. It was too much pressure, knowing all of the terrible outcomes that could result from a single, seemingly insignificant, decision. I’d end up spending my life running around, trying to prevent horrible things from happening to the people I loved. And the people I, um, liked.
Focus, Kenly. You have real issues at hand, let everything else go for now.
James was tracing the lifelines on the inside of my palm. When I turned to look at him, I found him watching me instead of the auction.
“I’d pay all of the Globes under my mattress to know what’s going on in that big brain of yours,” he said.
“Why would I agree to that when you just told me where you hide your stash?” I retorted.
He chuckled, but didn’t take the bait.
“You have your deep thinking face on,” James said.
“I didn’t know I had a deep thinking face.”
“You do. Want to share your thoughts? Please tell me you’ve worked out an escape plan.”
“Not exactly,” I admitted, admonishing myself for becoming preoccupied with Ernest and the woman in the yellow dress and their respective motives. “I….”
Whatever I was going to say was lost as I noticed that the pair was going back and forth again, rapidly offering increasingly high sums of money. The pained face up on the screen was another Created. Not one I recognized, but the man was American and a former TOXIC operative, according to the warm-as-an-iceberg auctioneer. Ernest and the woman solidified my theory when they launched into a third bidding war immediately after, also for a Created. The second object of the two determined bidders’ heated exchange did look sort of familiar, as if maybe I’d seen her around school but hadn’t paid close attention.
James patiently watched me as I studied the auction and the bidders, not saying a word about the fact I’d left him hanging.
“James?” I asked distractedly, still analyzing the happenings in the arena.
“Yes, dear?” he replied, a slight note of amusement in his tone.
“I was wondering…how do the Poachers know so much about us? All the facts the auctioneer is spouting off, where did she get them?”
“Biometrics,” James said. “With your friend—”
“Francie,” I provided, swallowing hard. “Her name is Francie. Francie Owens.”
“With Francie,” James began again, empathy in his voice, “all of her information is in a single, massive file: TOXIC’s dossier on her.”
“And the Poachers can access that?” I asked in disbelief. It seemed like an organization such as TOXIC would keep their info locked up pretty tight.
James nodded.
“TOXIC, UNITED, and just about every other government organization keep records on their people. One scan, and the Poachers have a life history. Most countries require Chromes to register their abilities now, so that’s how the Poachers get their data on those who are not part of TOXIC or UNITED. The rest, who aren’t in any sort of database, well, let’s just say Libby has probably been pretty busy.”
“I don’t remember being scanned,” I said.
“Really? How did they know who you were then?” James asked, confused.
Realization dawned on me.
Because I told them. Smart move, Kenly.
Another thought occurred to me.
“Wait. If the Poachers accessed TOXIC’s database to confirm her identity, UNITED knows,” I said, skirting his last question. “Our files are flagged.”
“Are you sure?” James sounded doubtful.
“Positive.” And I was.
I was absolutely certain. The flag UNITED had on my file was the reason I’d crossed the ocean in the luggage compartment of a commercial hoverplane. It was the reason I couldn’t get a legitimate job. It was the reason I had been forced to live under the radar.
“Then why aren’t they here?” James asked.
I smiled. “I think they are.”
“THEY’RE QUITE ADORABLE, aren’t they, Mole? Such a shame their love cannot last.” Pint’s voice was abrasive, immediately fraying my nerves once more.
“Up! You have visitors!” she screeched when her first announcement didn’t meet with the desired reaction.
There was nothing more that Pint or anyone else could do or say to us that was worse than what they were already doing. Sure, she could always split me and James up. But in her mind that was an inevitability. So it didn’t count.
James and I remained sitting, facing away from the doorway and the visitors.
“This is no way to treat your masters!” Pint snapped.
James muttered a word I’d never heard spoken aloud, one I normally would’ve been highly offended just to overhear. Except, it really did apply to Pint Dunkin.
“Leave us,” a new voice said, the dismissive tone verging on bored.
This time, I did turn around. Jaylen Monroe stood in the doorway, towering over Pint and being dwarfed by Mole.
“Jay—” Pint began.
“Leave,” Jaylen repeated forcefully. “I have no use for you. I have my own protection.”
He gestured to his companion, a man standing just outside the door, almost completely obscured from my view by his boss.
Pint’s dark eyes narrowed to slits and she glared up at Jaylen.
“Fine. Sir.”
She stormed out of the cube with Mole trailing one step behind.
I wondered where exactly Pint Dunkin ranked in the Poacher hierarchy. When others were not around, she acted as if she ruled the world. In front of the Duke she had barel
y mumbled a word. With Jaylen, she was deferential, yet clearly begrudged his rank and title.
My completely useless wonderings were cut off when Jaylen and his bodyguard entered the cube and shut the door. Jaylen touched what appeared to be a random spot on the back wall. Light flooded the cube from overhead and the invisible speakers broadcasting the auction fell silent. I blinked until my eyes adjusted, annoyed that we could’ve turned the sound off at our leisure.
The bodyguard was the one with the gun, but I kept my focus on Jaylen. He was in charge, and therefore the bigger threat. The other man wouldn’t act unless Jaylen gave the order.
“What do you want, Monroe?” James demanded, getting to his feet. Never breaking eye contact with Jaylen, he offered me his hand.
I let James pull me up to stand beside him. As we stood there side-by-side in front of the enemy, I braced myself for a fight, preparing mentally to identify and exploit any weaknesses.
“Settle down, Wellington.”
Jaylen used the same bored tone now that he had with Pint a moment earlier, but he kept pulling on his shirt cuffs as if that would make them longer.
He’s nervous. Why?
“I’m here to make you a deal. Both of you. As you are aware, the auction is underway. The guards are distracted. The CEO of Robotech and France’s First Lady are ready to trade blows downstairs, and all personnel is on guard to handle that and another situation that has arisen. I can get you out of here.”
James laughed bitterly.
“What game are you playing at? Letting us go, why? So that you can chase us? Are we the fox in this hunt?”
More sleeve pulling, followed by shifting from one foot to the other. Jaylen swallowed thickly, golden eyes staring at his shiny shoes.
“It’s nothing like that. I swear it. I will be needing a favor in return, though.”
“I can’t help you get to Talia and the child. And even if I could, I won’t,” I said quickly, exasperated by their repetition.
Jaylen’s head shot up.
“I don’t care one bit about the Lyons girl or the boy or whomever else. It’s Libby. I will get you two past the guards, through the front door, and into a waiting hovercar. You will take Libby with you.”
“Excuse me?” James and I exclaimed in unison.
“You cannot be serious?” I added. “Your sister is…” I fumbled for the right adjective.
“Insane,” James supplied.
“Possibly,” Jaylen conceded. “As you’re aware, mental instability does run in our family.”
“Ho! Part of the family again, am I?” James asked wryly, his eyebrows springing upwards. “You must truly be desperate.”
Jaylen cut his eyes to me, clearly expecting a reaction to this bombshell. I smiled sweetly in response, grateful that James had told me the truth so I was able to keep a straight face. That information would’ve been really difficult to feign indifference to if I’d had to bluff.
As though James and I were in need of his support, Jaylen nodded approvingly.
“So you’ve told her, I see. Well, good, I suppose. Look, I love my sister very much. She is in danger, the same as the rest of your lot. After my father’s little story earlier, I’m sure you both understand…he won’t protect Libby when the time comes.”
James and I remained silent.
“She’s very powerful, you see and all Dad cares about is money, just like our ancestors,” Jaylen rushed on, as if we needed him to tell us what a selfish prig the Duke was. “Libby’s precise gift is in high demand. My father won’t have qualms with selling her for the right price. The only reason he hasn’t already done so is because he needs her for the Poaching. That need isn’t to last much longer.”
Jaylen was rambling now, desperate.
“I understand that space on the islands will go fast, that they may even use a lottery system. Libby is registered so there’s certainly a chance she’ll be selected. However, I can’t risk that she’s not. I won’t. You, Kenly, can assure she makes it to the islands, though.”
Jaylen’s golden gaze was that of a hopeful pet when it landed on me.
Jaylen had worked out that I, being Created, would be guaranteed a spot on the islands. Of course that spot would be in a containment chamber. This either didn’t occur to Jaylen or didn’t matter to him. More likely the latter.
“Why would I do that?” I asked. “Your sister tried to turn my brain to mush. Give me a single good reason to help her?”
“Isn’t your freedom enough?” Jaylen asked, confused.
Clearly he’d anticipated that I’d jump at this opportunity, possibly even thank him for it. There was no way I would give him the satisfaction, even if there wasn’t currently a struggle for buying up the Created happening on the auction floor.
Regardless, I didn’t respond right away. UNITED was here, or at least I was reasonably certain that they were. If I was willing to summit myself for containment, all I had to do was wait for one of their agents to buy me.
The only problem was the presence of a competing organization. Also with the intention of purchasing Created. I had no idea what their ultimate agenda was. Or, for that matter, who was bidding for which side. If I took the chance and the non-UNITED side won my auction, I might face a fate worse than containment.
In the end, the prospect of skipping the whole part where people bid on me was enough for me to indulge Jaylen. At least for the time being. If I agreed to get Libby out of here, away from her father, I didn’t have to take her to the islands.
All I had to do was make her brother think that I was on board with his plan. Then I’d be free from the Poachers and free from UNITED. It wasn’t like I owed Jaylen and Libby Monroe loyalty, after all. Without a doubt, they didn’t deserve it.
Who am I kidding? If I tell Jaylen I’ll take Libby to the islands, I will. I have honor, even if the twins don’t.
“Okay, say we agree,” I began slowly. “How do we get to these islands? Hijack a boat? A hovercraft? Swim? Or just make a huge scene so UNITED shows up to capture me?”
James was the one who answered.
“We would go to UNITED’s London headquarters and request relocation. You will be granted immediate passage, because you’re Created. Libby will, as well, because of her last name. UNITED will want to interrogate her about the Poachers’ organization.”
“Precisely,” Jaylen agreed, grinning as if the deal was already signed in blood.
A month—that was how long I’d spent running from the very people that Jaylen wanted me to take his sister to. Surrendering now would make that month and all of the sacrifices pointless.
The days without food. The nights in dirty hostels. The constant fear of discovery. The stealing. The fighting. None of it meant anything if I marched into the enemy’s lair and turned myself in.
I caught James watching me as I contemplated my future.
Not pointless. You met him.
“Does Libby actually want to go?” James asked suspiciously. “Does she believe that your father will betray her?”
The color drained from Jaylen’s cheeks and he averted his gaze when he answered.
“Not exactly. Libby believes our father will protect her, no matter what. That she’s too valuable to the organization to sell. By the time she grasps that he values money exponentially more than family, it will be too late. My sister is many things, one of which, unfortunately, is a daddy’s girl. That misplaced trust will land her in a position far worse than Anabel’s. She won’t become queen or first lady of a country. If she’s lucky, Libby will end up mistress to some powerful political figure, but that’s not likely. Both she and her Chrome are well-known. Parading about in the open after the Treaty is overturned will not be possible for her. And no one wants a shut-in for a mistress.”
A twinge of something close to sympathy tugged at my heartstrings. Jaylen really did love his sister. Not having siblings, I couldn’t fully appreciate that type of familial devotion. I thought about James and his si
ster. Bryn went against her family to help her brother. Jaylen was no different.
Except that James isn’t a psychotic bitch. Yeah, there’s that.
“How do you plan to get her onboard with this?” James asked.
“Drugs,” Jaylen replied plainly, without a hint of apology in his tone. “I’ll slip a heavy sedative into her tea. By the time she comes round, you will all be on a hovercraft headed for the islands.”
Awesome. If I agreed to this slipshod plan, I’d be stuck in a flying metal ship, high over an ocean, when a pissed off Mind Manipulator regains consciousness. Safe. Real safe.
I turned to James. Surprisingly, I found him looking thoughtful, actually considering taking the deal.
Did he want to go to the islands? It made sense for him, I supposed. Admittedly, living with a target on my back for the rest of my life was a scary thought after the past month. And James had lived that way for much longer.
Swarms of angry mobs hunting me with pitchforks, like they’d done to witches back in the day, floated through my mind. I shuddered. The images weren’t all that far off from the ones I’d seen in my Vision of Talents being attacked at Anabel Pier.
“So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?” Jaylen glanced down at his communicator, a not-so-subtle hint that time was short.
James put his arm around my shoulders and turned me so we faced the glass window that separated us from the arena. He pulled me close and bent to speak directly into my ear.
“You don’t have to do this, Kenly,” James murmured, keeping his voice low enough that Jaylen and his bodyguard couldn’t hear. “I know what going to the islands means for you.”
Containment.
“Yeah, but what are my other options?” I glanced over my shoulder to where Jaylen Monroe stood, still tugging on his shirt sleeves. Pitching my voice even lower, I added, “UNITED is here, James. I may not be avoiding them, either way.”
Jaylen’s arrival had precluded telling James about my worry over the other group that was hell-bent on buying Created. With the eavesdropping duo trying to hang on our every word, telling him now wasn’t an option.
“Just give me a minute. I need to think,” I called over my shoulder. While obviously speaking to Jaylen, I kept my back to him and stared out over the crowd below.
