Buzz-Cut pushed the cart to the side of the bed and retreated as silent as he’d arrived.
My eyes about popped out of my face. “Have you blown a gasket? He could have smoked your ass into a grave.”
“Chill.” Zoe licked her spoon and grinned. “They’re afraid of you.”
“I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m a bit tied up.”
“Riley’s men have been instructed to engage only under threat of life: theirs or ours. Or escape,” she whispered, a hand cupped to one side of her mouth.
I whispered back, “How do you know?” I plucked the silver dome off a garden salad, snagged a small tomato, and popped it into my mouth. When I bit into it, a sugary burst of grapes and tomato masked the musty taste of fear coating my tongue.
She shoveled in another spoonful of vanilla ice cream, the sight of which sent the tomato somersaulting in my stomach. “Did that aneurysm hurt much?” she asked through a mouthful of goop.
Ding dong. Telepathy. Pocket lint clouded my mind as the depressant drugs wore off and energy dripped ever so slowly into my veins. In fact, incredible new power melted in exquisite harmony with my own. Food could definitely rally it along. I went to town on the salad, chunky beef soup, and chocolate milk.
Zoe licked her bowl clean and tossed it into the trash can with a clang. “Oh dear, did I miss the tray?” The spoon clinked against the bowl. “Spill it. This better be life threatening because I’ll accept no less for being snatched and all.” She tried her rendition of my evil eye, aping the Wicked Witch of the West instead. I wiped my chocolate milk mustache off with a linen napkin. Nice touch for a research institute, but they needed to read Martha Stewart’s books on bedding etiquette. Martha had prison experience too. Every time my hand brushed the scratchy muslin sheets, I wanted to peel each thread apart and braid a noose for hanging Dickard Riley.
Zoe cast me a calculating look, her empathic brain spinning a million revolutions a second. Oh, did I mention that she’s also a secret empath? By touch, she can feel emotions in addition to reading minds. It’d been tricky to keep my secrets from her since we’d first met in high school. Our ESP abilities were the reason why we’d hit it off so well. Now, I wondered if she might be a descendant of the Forbidden Thirteen. Turmoil sent my bowels churning.
“Does your ESP feel different?” I whispered.
“Same old.”
I heaved out a sigh of relief.
“You’re angry, feeling betrayed.” Worry deepened tiny lines around her eyes. “What’s going on? Did you succumb to my mind control and buy expensive makeup? What’s in your hair?”
Mind control, my flat ass. “Huh?” I glided my fingers through my silkier and longer hair. I released Zoe’s arm and swung the meal cart to the wall, having suddenly lost my appetite. “What’s different?” Pulse accelerating, I patted my face and head.
“Your hair’s way longer. Are you wearing extensions? Did you get highlights? You’re, like, luminous.”
My dinner sank to the pit of my stomach. Guess I wasn’t delusional, at least on the hair front. Upon opening the Rift, I didn’t think the magic had affected my shell. Whatever drugs and deadeners DR had pumped into me suppressed more than my magical energy so I didn’t know what was normal or merely new normal. It’s been lovely, but I have to scream now.
“What else?”
She shot a look at the flat screen then leaned forward and whispered, “Your aura feels like it’s not all yours.”
“You can feel my aura? How many auras do you feel?” I continued to whisper in case the room was bugged.
She gloated. “I’ve always felt your aura. It’s part of being an empath,” she whispered close to my ear, touching my check. “I feel your aura and two similar, but indistinct ones.”
Gripping her hand tight, I nearly shuddered in my bootie socks. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why do they want you? Who’s the hunk you’re falling for? Why do you think he betrayed you?”
I sniffed. So much for flying under the radar. I couldn’t hide it from myself let alone Zoe. I’d curse that barbarian Ronan if he betrayed me; double-cursed if he broke my heart in the process. Whoa, wait? Ronan? I knew in that moment that if I never saw Ronan again, I didn’t think I’d survive life. Ronan had sunk so deeply into my soul, I’d need a bomb to blast him out.
The right side of my neck itched. I scratched it, trying to rub out my lame infatuation. “Dominion Research thinks I possess untapped ESP they want to study.”
Disbelief rounded Zoe’s eyes. “Why are they so delusional? I mean, how did they find you?”
Walls vaulted in my mind, and I lied like a dirty, wet rug. I hated blocking Zoe out, but sometimes it was necessary and she’d taught me the nifty trick. “I don’t know.” One of my ragged fingernails sacrificed itself for my dessert. “They sent Ronan after me. He set me up.” I might be more accurate than I cared to admit. Clues weren’t exactly hiding beneath the covers waiting to yell “surprise, dimwit.” If Dickdouche was eavesdropping, he’d form his own opinions.
“Bizarre.” Zoe hopped off the bed and began pacing. Her two-pairs-for-the-price-of-one sneakers were silent on the slate-gray commercial carpet that matched Ronan’s eyes. “Do you have latent talents?”
I couldn’t hide the guilty flush inching across my face.
“What’ve you hidden from me?” Zoe glowered from the foot of the bed, delicate hands on her perfectly proportioned hips.
“Please don’t get upset.” I held up a pacifying hand. “It’s just more telekinesis.” Ugh, a lie by omission wasn’t really a lie, right? “It’s developing and reacting to Ronan who has similar abilities. He dubs himself a descendant of an ancient sorcerer.” I hated bending the truth I hardly understood myself. “What load of bull did they sell you?”
“Sorcerer?” Zoe’s brow wrinkled and she wove her fingers through her long, tousled hair. It drove her batty if her flawlessness was less than perfect outside her apartment.
Tears welled again and I hated myself for them and their source. “Why didn’t my mother ever tell me any of this?” I sniveled and wiped my nose on the scratchy pillowcase.
Zoe hugged me. “Oh, Aria. She died too soon, that’s all. She didn’t get a chance to tell you…whatever.” She pulled away, clasping her fingers in mine. “How bad is it?”
“It’s everything. It’s me, my identity, my place in this world. Something was always missing and it wasn’t just my dead mother and ditching father. Or Granny Elle. I never fully belonged and couldn’t ever figure out why I never felt settled. Now I know why.”
Zoe faked a horrified look, screwing up her mouth, aping the Wicked Witch of the West Coast. “You belong. You belong to me, Aria Elle Walker. I love you to death and back. Don’t ever think otherwise.” She gripped my hand so hard she may have broken a bone, and I yelped to get her to lighten up. “Sorry. But you know I’d marry you if…”
I quirked an eyebrow. “If you didn’t love the male species and their equipment so much.”
She laughed. “Well, there’s that. But I was going to say I think you love the male species so much and one male in particular.”
I shook my head so hard, I flung out my sorrow, and anger danced into its place. I deflected. “Apparently, I’m a descendant of an ancient sorcerer like Ronan. Mom was too, and she never said a freakin’ word.” The bed got the brunt of my fisted anger. “My father betrayed me to these assholes. Was I just a pawn in their lives? Something to bargain and barter with? Born to easily give away and abandon?”
Zoe smacked my arm hard, bitch-slapping sense into me. “Cut the crap. You know that’s not what happened. Everyone loved you. What the hell’s not to love, except this pity party you’re having right now? You were born for greatness…apparently.” She snickered. “It just took time for you to find your place. Looks like you’ve found it. So buck up little donkey’s ass and get over it. Live this life you’re supposed to live now. And love it…and him.”
I cou
ld always count on Zoe to blast sense into me in her way…our way. Reaching for her, we hugged again. “I love you too, bitch. And I don’t love him,” I whispered in her ear.
“Liar.” Before she drew away, she said, “They say you have a book that belongs to them. That you stole it.”
“Jerkwads,” I yelled at the flat panel in the corner. “Welcome to Kiss My Ass Avenue, at the corner of No Freakin’ Way.” I thumped my fist over my heart, and then had a sudden light bulb moment.
“Aria, why—”
“Forget the why. They’re lying out their asses.” I motioned her closer, my index finger across my lips. She rolled onto the bed and cuddled against me. “We need to get out of this pit. Follow my lead. Without snark,” I said vehemently in her ear, knowing I was in for a bitch-out later. She nodded, a pensive mask pasted on her face. “Don’t spaz if you see me do…strange telekinesis.”
She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a snigger. “Like what?”
“Scoot over and zip it.” Her back faced the camera and she shielded me from Dickard’s Eagle Eye. I stuck my arms under the covers. “I’m wasted.” I faked a yawn and pulled the comforter to my chin, closing my eyes. “Drugs have whipped my ass.”
The deadeners had worn off and my energy had returned for the most part. If the room contained blocks, they weren’t working on me. I focused inward, reaching for the electromagnetic receptors in my head. The wrist and ankle gadgets sparked and hissed, broke in two pieces. Deadeners crumpled at the end of the thick bands holding me snug to the bed frame.
The torso band flicked against Zoe. “Oww.” She rubbed her hip. "What’d you do?”
“I just killed the deadeners.” We continued to whisper in case audio bugs swarmed the room.
Her eyes bulged unflatteringly out of her pretty little face but she kept her tongue.
I told Zoe my plan. It wasn’t a great plan, but it bought us time and got us out of Little Dick’s Prison. In true crime fashion, the ceiling hosted a commercial vent panel. If we stood on the bed, we could just reach it. No security goons guarded the doors. Just two advanced door locks blocked our exit. Riley’s no-necks wouldn’t be more than seconds behind once we escaped. The camera proved the biggest pickle.
“Aria, you need to eat more. I told Riley I’d get you to eat,” Zoe said loudly, jumping to her feet. Playing her part, she strolled around the foot of the bed to the tray of lukewarm slop.
“Bite me.” I stuck my middle finger in my mouth and gave the camera a nasty gagging look.
“You’ll eat or I’ll shovel it in.” Acting the tyrant as though born to it, her voice dropped an octave. She held the full spoon to my lips.
I slid her a mad dog look. “That swill would kill a robotic pig.” I flicked the spoon away, hitting her above her left breast, a target not too difficult to miss.
She dug her fingers in the bowl and threw a piece of beef at me, deliberately missing my head by a foot. I snatched up the bowl and Zoe grabbled for the tray. I flung the contents of the bowl at the camera eye, coating it and the monitor with congealing beef soup. Continuing to fake noises of a cafeteria food fight, we made a mound beneath the covers to make it resemble me. The fight ended, I stood behind the door, and we waited, hoping the soup hid our actions. We didn’t have a lot to lose if our pathetic plan flopped.
“Go back to sleep,” Zoe intoned, playing her Academy Award role. “Your bitchiness needs a break from reality.” She patted the heap of pillows, turned the flat screen on, and perched on the end of the bed.
Only one set of footsteps echoed in the corridor. The guard peeked through the tiny door window, engaged the intercom. “Keep away from the door.”
“Whatever.” Zoe nonchalantly flipped him off and resumed watching the dinosaur of daytime soaps through clumps of oozing soup. All she needed was a box of chocolates and a cosmopolitan.
The locks snapped open. The goon bulked up the doorway, dart gun drawn, loaded down with useless deadeners. The deadeners pinched my powers, and I pressed my mind through the oppressive force. It felt akin to swimming from the bottom of the ocean and breaking through the water’s surface, filling my lungs with clean, fresh air.
“Move to the bathroom.” He waved his weapon at Zoe and spoke into his mouthpiece, “Walker’s secure.”
Zoe rose and backed farther into the small room. Just as the minion guard cleared the doorway, I pushed the door shut and pulled forth a slew of powers. Six deadeners popped. Minion’s knees buckled and he lost his grip on the gun. It clattered to the floor and Zoe snagged it up.
I snarled in his ear. “Tell them the room’s secure. No backup necessary.”
Acrid fear mixed with musk cologne wafted off him, his shoulders strung tighter than a guitar on steroids.
“Do it!” I grabbed his wispy drab brown hair, snapped his neck back. “When I tap your earpiece that better be all you say. Got it?” I slammed my knee between his shoulder blades.
“Yeah,” he grunted.
I fought to control my madness, the new power roaring to life, almost sinking me to my knees with its ferocity. I tapped his earpiece.
“No backup needed.” He sounded slightly strangled. “Walker’s out, Marino’s secure. I’ll clean the lens and report back.”
I pressed his wireless off and patted his head. “Good guard dog.” My new brew of magic boiled up, and I hurled an onslaught of energy into him. He made a choking sound, flopped forward, out like a stuffed puppy.
“Move it,” I mouthed at Zoe, swishing my arm toward the ceiling.
Wanting to appear as if we’d escaped out the door, I touched the door locks, heat eviscerating them. They snicked apart, smoldering in a puff of smoke. I vaguely wondered which one of my new personalities had accomplished the feat. I slipped on the pair of hideous white sneakers we’d found in the empty closet and joined Zoe on the bed. She’d already pushed up the ceiling tile, and I helped her shove it inside the vent. We didn’t have much time before Riley’s goons caught on. But waiting for shit to happen wasn’t in my playbook.
I boosted Zoe up, and then she helped hoist me into the air duct. I closed the vent hole behind me, we scuttled away from the grill, then stopped to reconnoiter in the tight duct.
Zoe grabbed my ankle, her hand trembling. “Did you kill him?”
“Doubt it.” Not so sure myself, I didn’t want her to dwell on it and detract her sanity from our getaway.
“What’ve you been hiding from me?” Accusation riddled her tone. “I guess I taught you how to block me too well.” Even with a frown turning down her mouth, she still mirrored perfection.
“Later.” I patted her hand. “What’s in the rooms on each side of mine?”
“I was caged to the right. Same layout. To the left is another holding cell. They brought in a sickly blonde girl.”
“Kiera Kendrick.”
“You know her?”
“Met her yesterday. Did you see another girl who looked like her, but less sick?” On hands and knees, I slinked through the square tunnel on the left, elevating my feet to minimize the noise.
“No.”
“Did your room have a window and camera?”
“Yes. Pervs.”
I stopped at the screen over Kiera’s room and peeked down at the tidy bed. Empty. Crawling onward, I wanted to find an unlocked room that Satan’s big brother wasn’t spying into. Zoe closed in on my heels, only the sounds of our breathing and shuffling audible. Cool air flowed through the duct and a long shiver rolled to my feet. The shiver stemmed more from apprehension than the temperature, because my heart was racing on the Indy 500 circuit. The next vent overlooked a supply room.
Familiar voices drifted to me from a few vents down the gray tube. The voices belonged to Ronan the traitor and Richard Riley, the murderer, kidnapper, all around evildoer. Eyes closed, I hunted for Ronan’s aura, but couldn’t thrust beyond my spreading patch of hyperenergy and the deadeners leaching beyond the room’s perimeter.
I counted to ten, stead
ying the pitter-patter of my traitorous heart. “Stay here.” I scooted down the duct, stopping shy of the screen above what appeared to be Riley’s rich and expansive office. He lounged behind a humongous wood desk in a worn leather chair. Ronan sat across from him in a sumptuous Edwardian guest chair. A chair I might pilfer to replace the one smashed into firewood in my condo. Zoe slunk toward me and rested her chin on my leg. Mental eye roll.
The room’s deadeners pinched me, but whatever magic I’d gained at the Rift roiled inside me, punching holes through Riley’s rinky-dink technology. I glanced over my shoulder, finger to my lips to silence Zoe, then tossed out a tester wave of magic and sent her hair floating up from her scalp. The deadeners were dead to me.
Ronan smiled at his father, a steaming cup of coffee at arm’s reach. The heavenly scent of caramel mocha drifted to the ceiling. Un. Freaking. Believable. My heart skipped a beat.
“What do you really want, Ronan?” Riley asked oily smooth, steepling his fingers under his chin.
“Freedom.”
“You’ve always had your freedom.”
“Only when you gave it to me.” He paused. “You got Aria Walker, the Rift’s open. The other sorcerers will come out of hiding now, drawn to the magic.” Unidentified emotion thickened Ronan’s voice. “You don’t need me any longer.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Riley’s smarmy tone dribbled candy canes. “You’re as crucial to my project as Walker, either by cooperation or by making blood deposits. By the way, where’s Melisande?”
“In San Jose.”
“Dead?”
Another beat of silence elapsed. Did Ronan nod?
“She tried to betray you. She wanted me and her to work together to take you down.”
Hatred clamped onto my splintering heart. My hillbilly apeshit, Catwoman, ninja claws joined the power scrabbling for freedom inside me.
“Prove it.” Did I hear the slightest sadness in Riley?
Rustling drifted up, followed by the metallic sliding of a zipper. I crept forward, peeked through the vent holes. Ronan handed him Melisande’s laptop and red tablet. We need the witch hag’s devices! I backed up, focused on controlling my breathing, which took a turn for the ugly. I nearly hyperventilated myself into a tizzy. Closing my eyes, I breathed deep and even.
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