[Phoebe Pope 01.0] The Year of Four

by Nya Jade

  “Wait. Why didn’t you tell me about the Vigos at the red carpet? Phoebe asked, sitting upright.

  “What are you talking about? I told you there were other Vigos in Hollywood,” Colten said at once.

  Phoebe explained that when Alexori had listed his Vigo casualties he’d mentioned having eyes and ears at the movie premiere.

  “But you didn’t tell me about killing them,” Phoebe said, finishing.

  “Because I didn’t,” Colten said, his voice tight, his eyes suddenly unfocused.

  “You didn’t?” Phoebe asked, looking at him with a confused expression on her face as his gaze drifted to something on her desk.

  “Do you not want to answer my question? Even after I told you everything?” Colten asked, slowly returning his gaze to Phoebe, a pained look on his face.

  “No, that’s not it—I mean, I still don’t understand it.” Phoebe paused and gathered herself. “For as long as I can remember I’ve been able to sense people’s emotions. It used to drive me crazy. One moment I’m walking down the street, minding my own business. Then, all of a sudden I’m crying because I just passed someone who’s suffering.”

  Colten looked at her awed. “So you’re feeling what everyone is feeling all the time?”

  “Oh, God no,” Phoebe said. “At least not anymore. . . .” Phoebe’s let her voice trail as she remembered the day she’d learned how to block out other people’s emotions.

  Her father had run a gentle hand through her hair as they sat side by side on a wooden bench in the middle of a public playground.

  “I—I can’t do it,” she’d whimpered, retreating into the bulkiness of her heavy coat. “They’re so strong.”

  “Yes they are,” her father said. He stared around at the excited children and the watchful adults moving about the play equipment. “People’s emotions are living things that want to be acknowledged and understood,” he said softly. “Many—especially the unpleasant ones, are often repressed by those who own them. So they’re drawn to us because we sense them. We validate their existence by allowing them to be felt.”

  Phoebe turned her blazing gray eyes on him. “Why is it our job to validate them?” she said, her tone resentful.

  “It’s not, honey. It’s just something that you and I can do. I want you to see it as a gift and not a curse, so it’s important to learn how to raise a mental shield against them. Once you can do that, you can grant them audience on your terms.” He gently rubbed her chin with his calloused thumb and gave an encouraging smile. “Now, try again. Picture that gate shutting them out.”

  Phoebe curled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking from the strain of her effort. A tear rolled down her cheek. Desperate to succeed, Phoebe fought against her own emotional melting pot of frustration, anxiety, and fear. And then it happened, very fast, very intense. The mental gate was iron-thick, and it bulldozed all the strangers’ emotions from her mind before locking into place with a satisfying bang. Slowly, Phoebe raised both hands to her once throbbing temples, as if to see whether or not they would collapse from the instant relief.

  “I did it,” she said slowly. Then, bouncing up and down on the bench, “I did it!”

  Her father savored her excitement. “And do you know exactly what you did?”

  Phoebe stilled and gave him a blank stare. Almost shamefully, she said, “No.”

  “You mastered your own emotions,” he said, beaming down at her. “You have to be able to do that before you can do other things.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “That’s it for today. You did good.”

  The sound of Colten’s voice returned Phoebe to their conversation. “That must be crazy,” he said, laying back. “Knowing what people are feeling.” He sat up with a jolt. “So . . . have you been tapping into my feelings?”

  Phoebe gave a guilty smile. “In the beginning I wanted to because it was hard being around you without knowing how you felt about me. But then I decided against it.”

  “So you never tried?” Colten sounded shocked.

  “I did eventually. That night at the warehouse. I needed to know . . .” Phoebe left the rest unsaid.

  “I understand,” Colten said.

  “What I did at the crèche was different. I physically manipulated your emotions.” Colten stared at Phoebe, following every word she spoke. “The only way I can explain it is that I pushed you to feel your rage more strongly. But doing that has an effect on me.”

  Colten was fascinated. “It drains you?” he said, guessing.

  “No. I end up feeling whatever emotion I push.” When Colten raised an eyebrow, Phoebe explained, “I have to find the emotion inside of myself that mirrors the one I see in the other person. It’s that connection that allows me to push. And that connection causes me to feel the manipulation. Like I said, it’s hard to explain.”

  “Well,” Colten said, his eyes wide with wonder. “I’ve been on the receiving end and it was intense. Also a bit scary since I didn’t know what was happening to me.”

  For the next few minutes, Phoebe told Colten a few stories from her childhood when her father had her practice her skill on him. When she’d finished, he pulled her back to him, and she rested her head in the crook of his arm.

  “And no one else knows?” Colten said after Phoebe had closed her eyes a moment, relieved to have finally unburdened herself of that, her deepest secret. She shook her head. “Good,” he said, quite serious. “Your father was right; trust no one.”

  “But I just told you,” Phoebe said, half teasing while nervously wrapping strands of her hair around a thumb.

  The corners of Colten’s mouth turned up in a teasing smile. “Well, I believe it would be covered under some kind of boyfriend-girlfriend privilege.”

  “Uh huh,” Phoebe said, sticking her tongue out, her hearts beating at Colten’s use of the word “boyfriend.” She worked to control herself; Colten’s tone had been teasing.

  He said, “But seriously—”

  An insistent knock on the door cut Colten off, and reluctantly, Phoebe untangled herself from him and went to answer it. Hayley stood in the doorway dressed in a knee-length sequined blue dress, her hair and make-up perfectly done. Her eyes roamed over Phoebe’s appearance and she frowned.

  “Why are you not ready?” Hayley said, pushing her way in. “I’ve been calling your cell and you haven’t been picking up—” Hayley stopped talking when her eyes fell on Colten laid out on the sofa.

  “Hi, Hayley,” Colten waved. “You look nice.”

  Hayley’s ears went red.

  “Yeah, what’s the occasion?” Phoebe asked, making her way back to Colten.

  Hayley narrowed her eyes at Phoebe. “Are you kidding me right now? Tonight’s the Enviroball and you and I are going, remember?!”

  Phoebe stared at Hayley blankly. “Me at Karli’s thing? No thanks.”

  Hayley spoke through tight teeth. “I think you’re forgetting about two young men that helped us out with a problem in exchange for us being their dates.” Hayley stared meaningfully at Phoebe who stared back confused until understanding hit her just as Hayley said in exasperation, “I actually had a feeling you’d forget, so I have a dress ready to go.”

  Phoebe turned to Colten and bit her lip. “I kinda have an obligation to fulfill,” she said.

  “Sounds like it,” Colten said, laughter in his eyes. “Should I be worried about the gentleman?”

  “No,” Phoebe said, grinning. “I don’t even know his name.”

  Colten arched a brow. “Really?”

  “Trust me,” Hayley said, “it’s no competition unless you’re intimidated by a guy who’s a foot shorter than you and still going through puberty.”

  Colten chuckled at this. “I’ve learned never to underestimate the competition.”

  Impatiently, Hayley grabbed Phoebe’s hand and began dragging her toward the door.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “We’re getting dressed in my dorm,” Hayley sai
d. “I know you had access to a glam squad at the premiere and all, but here I’m still your fashion guru.”

  “Okay, okay,” Phoebe said flustered. “Give me five minutes.”

  Hayley glanced at her watch. “Three minutes.”

  “Sure.”

  Hayley left and Phoebe returned to Colten who pulled her back into him.

  “How come you’re not going to this stupid dance?” Phoebe said, pouting. “Isn’t it in your honor?”

  Colten laughed. “I said they could use my name, but I didn’t say I’d go. Besides, I’m heading to L.A. for one last stop on Nicole’s Damage Control Tour.”

  “One minute!” Hayley’s voice rang from the hallway.

  “What’s your last stop?”

  “The Kamron Hyack Show.”

  “Wow—You’re coming back after, though?” Phoebe asked. A sliver of insecurity came creeping into her even though the look in Colten’s eyes said she was crazy to doubt him.

  “Of course. I still have to graduate! And, besides, we have a few more important things to talk about. . . .”

  Phoebe agreed. They hadn’t discussed how Alexori believed that there was a saboteur within his organization. Although Colten had assured Phoebe that his tracks had been well covered, she now worried about his safety. And given what they now knew about each other, there was still a conversation they needed to have about the risks involved with being together. Could their love for each other trump the danger? For now, she’d revel in the idea of being his girlfriend.

  “What are we doing down here?” Phoebe asked Hayley, four hours later. Her feet were throbbing. She’d danced all night with a boy who apparently believed toe-stepping was the name of a dance. And what she needed now was her bed, and not a midnight trip Below.

  “Now that the four of you are safe and sound,”—Hayley pushed through the library doors—“I’m curious to see what our friend Liam is saying.”

  Phoebe couldn’t believe it. “You realize that you’re now becoming almost as obsessed as your father.”

  “I know.” Hayley laughed. “I know.”

  “I’ll humor you on two conditions,” Phoebe said blithely.

  “Name them.”

  “First, no more spontaneous plans that involve me and a blind date.”

  “Done.” Hayley grinned mischievously. Phoebe raised her eyebrows to indicate her seriousness and Hayley laughed again.

  “And second, can I watch Colten’s Kamron Hyack interview on your TV tomorrow?” This time it was Hayley who spiked an eyebrow and Phoebe laughed. “It’s the last stop on his manager’s ‘Damage Control Tour.”’

  “I love that woman’s show! Done.”

  They sat behind a computer and Hayley quickly typed in the URL. Shortly, Circle of Awareness flashed on the screen.

  Vigo Elders

  Posted by Liam Corten on October 2nd at 1 P.M.

  I have it on good authority that the Anzaini have surfaced. I’ve got word that they are behind the Hypha hunt. . . . Believe me, I hear the questions exploding in all of your minds. All of us history buffs know that the Anzaini swore only to surface when they had a sure way of defeating the Crowns. So what does that have to do with the Hyphas? For now, show-and-tell is over as I take a much-needed break. But rest assured, I will be back to keep you informed when the news is worthy.

  Posted in: history

  “Is that true?” Hayley said, her voice suddenly hoarse. She looked at Phoebe with bulging eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Anzaini?”

  Phoebe stared unseeingly at the computer screen. For the first time, she stopped to seriously wonder how it was that Liam always seemed to know things. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about his post was really bothering her.

  “I didn’t get a chance to bring it up,” Phoebe said, shaking her hair and returning to Hayley’s question, “because I got dragged to some dance!”

  Hayley had the grace to look sheepish. “Right.” She closed the browser and in a hushed voice said, “Well, pull out that Privaque and start talking—wait,” she said. “Before you start, I have a confession.” A scandalous expression flickered across her face.

  “What?” Phoebe said slowly, eying her friend suspiciously.

  Bursting with excitement, Hayley said, “I might have made out with my date tonight—”

  “What? Soccer Paul?” Phoebe screamed as Hayley giggled senselessly.

  Putting on her best Hayley expression, Phoebe said, “Now, dish!”

  Later, arms wrapped around her tomato pillow, Phoebe couldn’t sleep. For some reason, her mind kept returning to Liam Corten’s last post. It was almost as though he’d been excited about the Anzaini. But what would their reappearance mean to him? Phoebe bolted upright, her hearts pounding. Show-and-tell is over, Liam Corten had said. No. It couldn’t be. Phoebe reached for her bedside table lamp, turned it on, and grabbed a pen. Unable to breathe, she scribbled in her palm. She couldn’t believe it. But it made sense. The only reason everything had been reported with such authority: the letters in Liam Corten, when rearranged, spelled Montclaire.

  At the sound of the door opening and closing behind Phoebe, she almost expected to hear the words Sorry to keep you waiting, Gorgeous. The view of the sunset from the boathouse balcony was radiant. Phoebe had come back to the lake to try and let go of the sense of sadness that lingered from Scott’s betrayal. Yes, he had been a Vigo, but a small part of her had been holding on to the belief that their friendship hadn’t all been an act. That perhaps something within him—his humanity—had been the reason she’d been able to bond with him. “Being near water helps clear my mind,” he’d said the day after the kidnappings. Whether that had been an honest statement or not, it rang true for Phoebe as well.

  “I got your note,” said a soft voice in Phoebe’s ear.

  Phoebe turned and saw Afua standing next to her, her dark eyes trained on some distant point on the lake. Her wavy hair fluttered in the gentle breeze.

  “It’s just a theory—” Phoebe started.

  “And a good one,” Afua said. “You have strong sleuthing instincts, Cadet.”

  Phoebe blinked a few times at the Blackcoat’s compliment. “So you think it’s Montclaire’s blog?”

  The Blackcoat nodded. “Liam Corten was her grandfather’s name.” Afua paused. “Not only that, her text included some of her key phrases. How did you find it?”

  Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself. She knew she couldn’t mention Hayley’s involvement. “It’s something I stumbled across when I did a web search on the prophecy,” she said. “I didn’t think twice about it until Montclaire disappeared. Will she get in trouble for it?”

  “She reported what she knew, but never disclosed the location of The Four,” Afua said. “But it is something I’ll bring up next week at Court.”

  “You’re leaving?” Phoebe said, shocked.

  Bringing her gaze to Phoebe’s, Afua nodded once sharply.

  “But we still need protection!” Phoebe said, trying to keep the whine out of her voice, not wanting to sound as upset as she suddenly felt.

  “And you’ll have it,” Afua said, calmly. “Your protection has now become a priority with the Royal Court. You’ll have their utmost attention and service.”

  A frown creased Phoebe’s eyebrows. “Hasn’t it always been a priority?” she asked, confused.

  “No,” Afua said, raising a hand to forestall the question forming on Phoebe’s lips. “Every Blackcoat meeting begins with a look at the Threat Grid—geographic-based intel on Vigo activity that may impact the Crowns. A representative of the Royal Court sits in on these meetings as we discuss which intel is actionable and which should be dismissed.

  “When the intel about you Hyphas initially appeared on the Grid, it was immediately dismissed.”

  “What? But—”

  Afua’s intense look silenced Phoebe again. “You have to understand the reasoning behind it, Cadet. First, it involved a prophecy —not exactly reli
able sourcing. Second, Hyphas are still not fully understood or accepted by some in the Court,” Afua said. “Put those pieces together and that intel becomes a non-priority.”

  “Then why were you sent?” Phoebe said, keeping her voice controlled; it stung to hear that Hyphas were not accepted among the Crowns.

  “In my ten-year career, nothing on the Threat Grid has ever involved Hyphas,” Afua said. “For Vigos suddenly to be interested in them rang an alarm for me. I specifically asked to lead a team to investigate it further. When the request fell on deaf ears, I threatened to resign.”

  Phoebe, shocked, stared at Afua blankly for several pin-drop silent moments. “And that worked?”

  Afua offered her the first real smile that Phoebe had ever seen on her face. “My service record has given me some leverage that I chose to—let’s just say—exploit.”

  “You risked your career on us?” Phoebe said, disbelieving.

  “I’ve risked my life for the Crowns,” Afua said. “So why not a career for our entire race? The chance that one of you Hyphas could be the answer to defeating Vigos was worth looking into.

  “I came here with the understanding that this case was a non-priority. Even when Cadets Higashi and Baker were taken, my request for back up was denied.”

  “But two men followed me all the time, and—” Phoebe stopped herself from saying Scott. “I was often shadowed,” she said. “And all those guards for the red carpet sting—”

  “Were local SIS agents I used my weight as a Blackcoat to secure,” Afua said. “For them, it was an opportunity to impress someone who could potentially advance their careers.” Afua looked briefly at Phoebe, then stared at the lake. “I let you think they were Blackcoats in order to continue selling the idea that your protection was a Royal Court priority—to help ease your anxiety about the sting.”

  Phoebe’s mouth fell open; it was becoming quite clear that she had no idea who to trust or what to believe anymore.