I perked up. He'd met someone from my school? "How long ago was this?"
"Oh, I don't know, eighteen years ago. I met a girl who could move objects with her mind. I wouldn't have believed it, but I witnessed it with my own eyes. I started asking around, using contacts to dig up dirt on other wealthy and powerful members of our society. Not everyone used this service, but I found two more who had and were willing to trade information to keep me quiet.
"I can only assume I was getting too close, because one day my house was robbed of all my research, and I was shot and left for dead. On that same day, someone killed all three of my contacts. It took me months to recover physically. I lost the trail and could never figure out how to pick it back up. After that, I tried going back into journalism, but had lost the appetite for it. That's when I started teaching. So yes, Sam, I believe you."
I exhaled hard, expelling the pent-up pressure in my lungs in one great whoosh. I didn't know what I had expected from the professor, but this punched me in the gut.
Drake shifted on the couch. "Maybe coming here was a bad idea. If you're already on their radar, we could be putting you in a lot of danger."
"I'm tired of hiding. This is the story that got away, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it get away again. I'll help you kids as much as I can. Consider this your home while we figure out what to do next. I still have some powerful connections here and there. Sam, if you'd like, I can take a sample of your hair and find out what drugs you were given."
"That'd be great. I'm over the worst of it, but I hate not knowing what was done to me. This test... it's confidential, right?"
"Yes, your identity will be protected."
Bernard went over to his desk and pulled out a small vial.
I plucked a few hairs from the root and handed them over.
He slipped them into the vial and filled out a form. "I'll have these picked up right away. We should have an answer within a day or two."
He looked at Brad. "And you, what have you done with your writing career since last we spoke?"
Brad found something fascinating to stare at on his shoe. "Been trying to carve a niche for myself in journalism, like you taught me. It's not an easy world to break into."
How sad for him to feel disgraced in front of his mentor, I thought. "Brad does have a thriving blog, though, and he's using that to get our story out. He's going to be famous soon."
Brad smiled at me as his body relaxed.
"I may be an old man, but even I know the internet is quickly replacing print media. Hell, it's replacing print everything. I'm proud of you for sticking with it, Brad. Let's take a look at this blog of yours and see what we can do to spice it up. It's time I got my story out there too."
Brad beamed at the professor and grabbed his computer bag. They went to the dining room table next to the living room and sat shoulder-to-shoulder.
Bernard shouted back without turning to us. "Spare rooms are down the hall and to the right. Bathroom is on the left. Make yourself comfortable. Food's in the kitchen."
I stood and stretched. "Thank you."
His only response was a grunt as he focused on Brad's articles.
***
After two days with the professor, I knew my instincts had been correct. Not only was he helpful to Brad and his blogging ambitions, but he and I enjoyed long talks about ethics and the world of para-powers.
"So, you don't think powers are inherently right or wrong?" The mug warmed my hands, and the tea did the same for my insides.
In a look that I had come to recognize as his "thinking face," Bernard's eyes glazed over. "No, I don't. However these powers came to be, they are tools like any other."
Father Patrick had said much the same to Drake, I knew. I looked forward to meeting the man who had been like a father to him. When Drake told us of the priest's property and his willingness to help us, it changed everything. We now had a real chance to rescue my friends.
I took a sip of my tea and savored the spices on my tongue before I responded. "Criminals often argue that they are born that way—sociopaths and serial killers in particular. By your reasoning, anyone without a conscience can do whatever they please, right?"
"I'm not suggesting a moral free-for-all just because you have paranormal abilities. I am suggesting that the power of mind control is not inherently evil, as you seem to believe. There are situations when it can be used for good."
"But who decides what's good and what's not? Doesn't everyone think they are on the side of good, that their actions can be justified? How will we survive as a society if we don't have clearly defined rules about para-powers, especially if me and my friends are indicative of a new trend in human evolution?"
Brad ran into the living room waving around his laptop. "Hey guys, my numbers are way up! Sam, I got 500 hits yesterday from our interview. Lots of comments too. Most people think it's some fiction thing, but at least they're reading. I think you're right—we should do a vlog too. You and Drake would be very convincing on video."
I smiled, proud my new friend was finding success. "Right now?"
He grinned like a kid in a candy shop. "If you don't mind."
"Sure, let me just shower and put on some make-up. If this does go viral, I don't want to look like road kill."
***
The hot water scalded my body, turning my pale skin red. Voices from the past collided in my mind as I considered what I would say in Brad's video. Thoughts of trusted teachers, of past clients, of the students and their memories, rolled through my brain like tumbleweeds in a windstorm.
Professor Shaw—Bernard—had nearly died trying to uncover the truth about Rent-A-Kid. They'd kidnapped Drake. They'd impregnated me against my will, which felt like a form of rape... maybe worse. The violation weighed heavy on me, my only consolation being the connection Drake and I had formed.
However it happened, this baby belonged to us. But what about all the other girls who were used in this way and died because of it?
It would be hard to get people to believe, but we had to find a way to make them listen. If only Drake and I had more obvious powers, which we could showcase on film. But then, with editing and special effects, nearly anything could be faked.
Maybe we could show off Drake's strength? So much power, physically and mentally, in one person. Despite the heat, my body broke out in goosebumps, and I shivered.
Once my fingers and feet had pruned, I shut off the water and stepped out of the steamy shower. I wiped down the mirror and wrapped a towel around my body, my swollen belly exposed through the slit. I stared at myself in the mirror.
Were the eyes truly windows to the soul, as people said? What did mine say about me?
The light purple crescent moons under my bloodshot eyes said I needed more sleep, at least. I pulled my brush from my overnight bag and ran it through my long wet hair, then pulled out a blow dryer and did my best to make it look presentable.
The red blouse and black slacks for my film debut draped over the toilet. The buttons on the pants almost didn't snap; it would be time for new clothes soon.
Lost in thought, I didn't see Brad until I smacked into him and dropped my bag. "Oh, sorry!"
He picked it up before I could. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Feel better after a shower."
"You looked a million miles away, and sad. But... also beautiful. I mean, the red, it's a good color on you. It'll look good on film. So, um, what's up?"
"Just thinking about everything. Worried."
He put his hand on my arm, his body heat fighting the chill on my skin.
"The interview can wait, if you want." His mouth turned down in worry.
"No, it's okay. I'm—"
Pain stole my words from me.
I doubled over, clutching my belly even though it felt as if knives had impaled by head. Distant eyes bored into me. Someone else's consciousness moved into my mind, seeing into my life.
I screamed and squeezed my eyes shut, pushing back a
gainst the invader.
Hands on me. Voices around me.
Couldn't focus. Couldn't respond. Couldn't think.
Can only fight.
Chapter 11 – Lucy
"You have to be prepared for anything." Mr. Lancaster walked up and down the aisles and made eye contact with each person. "If you depend too much on your power, that power becomes a liability. The key to success is adaptability and improvisation. That is what we will be practicing today."
Lucy wondered if her teacher knew about the problems kids had been having with their powers. His lesson seemed awfully timely.
After Mr. Lancaster walked past her row, a paper airplane hit Lucy in the back of the head. She turned to see Darren smile impishly at her and float the airplane back to his own desk. He mouthed, "Sorry."
Before Lucy could respond, Mary leaned over and whispered, "I know about your little Freedom Fighters. You guys think you're so cool with your secret meetings, but you're all idiots if you think you can take on Rent-A-Kid. It's only a matter of time before you get caught."
Lucy had mixed feelings herself about their success, but hearing Mary's attack brought out her mama bear instincts. "You shallow, sex-obsessed twit, you know nothing about—"
"Lucy, care to share with the rest of the class?" Mr. Lancaster and everyone in fifth period stared at her.
"No, I'm sorry."
"Then please keep your mouth closed and your ears open while I'm talking. Someday, this just might save your life."
"Yes, sir."
Mary snickered beside her, and Lucy wanted to claw her eyes out. Instead, she kept her head forward and her ears, as Mr. Lancaster said, open.
"Here's the scenario." The teacher walked to the whiteboard and drew the layout of a building. "There are a group of innocent people in a building, and terrorists are holding them at gunpoint. Without using powers, how would you get in and save them? You can use any technology or weapons you can think of, just no powers."
Willy raised his hand, and the class groaned collectively.
"Yes, Willy."
He pushed his glasses up onto his nose and answered in his I-know-more-than-all-of-you-combined-and-isn't-this-just-so-obvious voice. "This is simple, Mr. Lancaster. I'd hack into the camera surveillance and reroute the feed so they didn't see me sneak in. Then I'd memorize their positions, throw a flash grenade to blind everyone, and proceed to shoot every terrorist from memory, starting with the one closest to the victims."
"Willy, you really need a girlfriend, my boy." Mr. Lancaster ruffled Willy's mop of red hair affectionately and continued pacing the room. "Anyone else?"
Darren raised his hand. "A peaceful outcome would be best for all parties. The terrorists presumably want something, so I'd find out what and try to negotiate. That way, no one gets hurt."
Lucy didn't disagree with Willy or Darren, but believed both had underestimated the enemy in this scenario.
Mr. Lancaster pointed to Mary. "What about you, how would you handle it?"
All the guys in the room zoomed in on the blond who played with her long hair and looked slightly confused. "Um... well, I would do something to, you know, get their attention. I mean, my powers work all the time. Why would they stop working? This doesn't make sense. Even if I lost my power... well, look at me." She gestured to her tight dress and curvy figure. "I'd just seduce them into surrendering."
Lucy rolled her eyes, as did every other female in the room. The men were too entranced to think clearly.
The question troubled Lucy, who didn't know how she would handle the situation even with her power. Detecting lies could come in handy with hostage negotiation. She'd be able to tell whether they lied about releasing the prisoners. As for a full-on attack, what would she do?
She had an idea. "Mr. Lancaster?"
"Yes, Lucy."
"I think everyone had good ideas." She shot a glance at Mary. "Well, almost everyone. But I don't think it would be that simple. We'd have to work as a team to succeed. Alone, we'd each just fail."
Mr. Lancaster clapped his hands and smiled. "Very good. You all are good lone rangers, but you also need to learn how to work together. Situations will come up where, even if you have access to your powers, you won't win on your own. There's power in numbers when each person's gifts are used well. Remember that."
Lucy made eye contact with the teacher and held his gaze. Did he know about the Freedom Fighters? Was he somehow endorsing what they were doing?
He turned away and addressed the class. "You're dismissed, but stay alert. I'll be doing surprise attacks at random. Be ready to defeat me without the use of powers... and preferably without serious bodily injury either. I'm just an old man, after all."
The hallway filled with teens hurrying to their next class. The squeak of sneakers on the linoleum floor, and the smell of the boy's locker room across the hall, brought back so many memories for Lucy. She missed Sam and wished they were together again. She thought Sam would have liked Mr. Lancaster's class today.
Gary approached as she made her way to the lockers. "I'm going to see if Darren will join us. Telekinesis could be very powerful. Have you and Luke decided if you're in. We really need you both." His hazel eyes begged her like a puppy dog looking for a treat.
She stood her ground, though, unwilling to sign on to this crazy plan that was doomed to failure. "We're talking about it, but it still looks like a suicide mission to me, and I kind of like being alive."
The headmaster's voice startled Lucy. "What are you doing out of class, young lady?"
She spun around, heart pounding. Neil stood behind her. "Hey, Lucy, what's up?"
"Were you doing Higgins's voice again? You freaked me out."
He laughed. "Sorry, I just can't help it. I love the look on everyone's face when they think they're about to get in trouble for something."
Lucy punched him in the arm. "You're terrible, you know that?"
Greg walked up and took Gary's hand.
"Oh, Neil, this is Gary and Greg, friends of mine. Guys, this is Neil. He can mimic any voice around. It's incredible."
Gary stared at her.
Right, Neil would be perfect, but I'm so not going there until I've decided where I stand on all this. She shook her head sharply.
Gary sighed and pulled Greg closer to him. "Hey, Neil, we're getting a club together. You know, something where we can practice our powers and talk about politics. You in?"
"I hear ya, Gary, but I don't know. Sounds risky, given... everything. I'll think about it, okay?" He turned to Lucy. "You and Luke are in?"
Lucy shuffled her feet. She didn't want to ruin Gary's efforts, but she wouldn't lie either. "Um, we're thinking about it."
"Got it. Well, like I said, I'll give it some thought but.... "
Gary's shoulders slumped. "Yeah, sure, I understand. See ya, Neil."
"Bye Gary. Lucy. Be careful."
Neil left the three of them with dejected looks on their faces.
Lucy stomped her foot, then blushed at how petulant she must look. "How do you expect to succeed if you can't even recruit people?"
Gary rolled his eyes. "That's why we need you and your brother. If people see you two involved, they'll be more likely to join."
"And then we'll be responsible for leading more kids to their death. I don't want that on my conscience."
"Then you're conscience will have to carry the weight of what's to come. It's not going to get better here. You'll see."
Greg pulled his hand from Gary's and put his arm around his distraught boyfriend.
She looked at the both of them, still trying to make a go of their relationship despite everything going on. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't mean to fight with you. I’m just really stressed right now. But we're the lucky ones, you know? You two are lucky to have each other. I'm lucky to have my brother. I feel bad for those who have to go through this alone."
When the three of them arrived at Lucy's locker, Mr. Lancaster jumped out from behind a door and grabb
ed at Lucy. She immediately spun him around, kicked his legs out from under him and pinned him to the ground.
"You'll have to do better than that, Mr. Lancaster." She helped him up and dusted off her knees.
"You're a natural at martial arts, aren't you Lucy? I'm glad you can take care of yourself. That will serve you well in the days ahead."
Before she could ask what he meant, he had walked away.
She grabbed her books from her locker, and walked with Greg and Gary to their next class. "I wonder what that was about."
Greg, who didn't talk much, looked thoughtful. "Perhaps Mr. Lancaster has hidden loyalties. We should keep an eye on him."
Chapter 12 – Sam
Sharp spikes pierced my mind as I pried my eyes open.
Drake's voice drifted in and out as his hand squeezed mine. "Sam, you okay? What happened, Honey?"
My vision focused. The frown lines on his forehead worked overtime. What happened? I was standing in the hallway, bumped into Brad, then—
"Oh my God, Drake, someone was in my head!" My body shook from the memory. I scanned the mental energies of everyone in the house, but nothing felt unusual. Aside from a pounding headache, my own mind also felt normal—well, as normal as it ever got.
"What do you mean? Like the way we talk?"
"No, like someone tried to spy on us through me. Felt like they were tearing apart my brain with a knife."
"Are you okay? Is our baby okay?" His blue eyes glistened with spent tears. I'd never seen Drake cry before.
"I think so. My head hurts, but otherwise I feel normal. Help me up?"
He kept a hand on my shoulder. "Shouldn't you rest?"
"I want to make sure my body still works."
He nodded and supported my shoulders as I sat up. The world spun, then settled.
"I'm fine. How long was I out?"
"About two hours," Drake said. "I've been worried sick. Brad wanted to take you to the hospital, but I knew you wouldn't like that. I didn't know what to do, Sam. I've never felt so.... Even when I was powerless, I didn't feel like this."
He leaned in and kissed me. The soft warmth of his lips, the scent of his breath, brought the rest of my body to life. Heat spread through me, but I ignored it. Bad timing.
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