by Skye Genaro
"You're the one who left a note in my locker, aren't you? You were trying to warn me," I said.
"You have no idea what you're getting into," she sputtered. "You're nosing around like you're invincible and you're not."
"I know about Keenan and Luma. I'm going to tell my dad and I'm going to the police."
She gawked at me as if I'd crawled out of a cradle. I yanked the crumpled magazine out of my folder and pointed at Keenan's picture. "He was at the house with you last night, wasn't he? Was he the guy behind the gold mask?"
Gianna began to tremble. "You're s-so n-n-naïve. You can't stop him. He's into everything, like a-a-a disease. He forces people to work with him. That's what you saw last night. You think those men w-w-wanted to be in that room with Keenan?"
Her eyes jumped to the ceiling, to the wall behind us. Was she afraid we were being watched?
"You want to know how d-d-deep this runs? Forget Keenan and his soldiers. Forget your tiny existence."
She ripped the magazine from my hand and thrust the cover in my face.
"See what he's doing?" Gianna replicated the two-fingered gesture, the upside down peace sign.
"It's a calling card to his soldiers and agents, and a warning to anyone who tries to resist him. Here I am, in front of everyone, gaining more and more power, and nobody can do a thing about it." Her breath was hot against my cheek. "The symbols are everywhere, but do you think anyone notices? People cruise through life with their eyes wide shut."
The whites of her eyes grew comically large. The girl sounded insane. My fear started to drift and was replaced by doubt.
"Okaaaay, where do you see these symbols?" I asked carefully.
Gianna flipped to another article, nearly tearing pages as she did. Her finger landed on a photo of a local music star who recorded top ten singles and platinum albums. The singer flashed a million watt smile, and rested two fingers over her closed left eye.
"Keenan owns her. She's not paranormal but she will do anything he tells her to. Her handler is on the set, making sure she flashes the sign. Movies, music videos, politics, everywhere in the U.S. He's gotten to the police. The mayor." Her hand flitted through the air. "It's all right in your face. Keenan is behind the scenes, enslaving gifted people to take control. First Portland, then the state and then the region and then the country. And they all do this," she stabbed at the picture, "to flaunt their control."
My mouth hung open. I didn't know what to say.
"You don't believe me," she said.
"I…am trying to. It's a little…" I searched for the right word.
"Crazy? Yeah. Thanks."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"If you don't believe me, then it's easy for you to walk away."
What she said was difficult to conceive, almost impossible. But Connor had alluded to the exact same scenario—factions working behind the scenes to assert control over the country's population. Eventually, they would control the eastern portion of it.
Gianna read my hesitation as resistance, and she seemed to come to a decision. As she leaned away, her aura broke free and hammered me full force. It jabbed me in the stomach, landing a thrusting blow that barreled through my intestines and into my backbone. I doubled over from the pain.
"This is how my life feels, and it's all because of them. Is this what you want?" she spat.
I needed my breath to answer. I had none.
She lowered her voice. "I pretend you don't exist even though I know what you can do. If you go to the police, Keenan will make it worse for you. If he finds out I know about you and didn't turn you in, he will hurt me. Then he will find you, and you will feel like this for the rest of your life." Her aura wrenched me harder. "That doesn't have to happen, you know. If you hide your ability and mind your own business, they might stop looking for you." She released me. "Don't talk to me ever again. Don't even look at me."
I exhaled short puffs of air. "Why haven't you turned me in?" I asked before she could leave.
Her despair parted, a tiny smoke ring of an opening, and behind it, a sliver of optimism. "Somebody has to fight them. You could, if you live long enough."
She scurried into the packed hallway, taking her tortured energy with her. A full minute passed before I was able to stand upright.
I took a long look at the picture. Wondered how one man could spark terror in so many people.
Gianna was risking her life by sparing mine, which put me in a precarious position. There was no way I could have known that doing the right thing—investigating, reporting the Mutila to the authorities—was worse than doing nothing at all. By going after Luma and Keenan, I was betraying her.
The night I stopped Gianna from jumping to her death, she told me there was no way out, that the soldiers would eventually find me. Now she thought they might stop looking for me. I wondered what had changed her mind.
Her terror and rage clung to my skin like an oily film. I was desperate for a shower. Before I could go home, I had one more important conversation to cover.
"I want us to take a break," I told Jaxon when I found him in the parking lot after school.
"Are we breaking up? Shouldn't we actually start dating first?"
"No, it's this whole Mutila thing. I'm not going to do it anymore. I found the girl who was on the bridge and…we're getting in too deep."
"Is she okay?"
I shrugged. What qualified as okay? "She's not dead."
"And you're going to…what? Go back into hiding?"
"She said I'd be safer that way. We need to stop looking for them. Now."
He looked at me as if he preferred not to go down that path. "What if I want to keep going? Without you?"
My brow furrowed. Gianna's warning hadn't included Jaxon. But still. "I don't think it's a good idea."
"I want to find out what my foster dad did in the Mutila," he said.
I held my palms between us. I had to draw a line. "Do whatever you want, but if you're going to keep looking, then we can't spend time together."
Jaxon was still. "Why should it matter as long as you're not the one digging around?"
"You're a direct link to me."
"So I have to choose." That sarcastic smile that I expected never materialized. For once, he was taking me seriously.
"This scares me, Jaxon. More than when I started."
The conflict coming off his aura surprised me, but if I were in his position, I would have hesitated, too. He'd spent a lot of time chasing around on account of me. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll let it go."
"You'll walk away?"
"My foster father is dead. I guess the rest doesn't matter. There are lots of other mysteries I'd rather unravel." His chocolate eyes sunk into mine.
My belly fluttered, mostly from relief but also because of the hungry way he was looking at me. "Like what?"
"Like…" He put his hands on my face and walked me backward until I was pressed against his car. "What your lips taste like after curfew."
When he leaned in to kiss me, I flinched. An unnerving sensation crept under my skin, like I was bungee jumping toward an alligator pit. I knew the cord was short enough to keep me safe, but the threat of snapping jaws made me second-guess taking the leap. I chalked this up to my limited experience with boys like Jaxon.
"You and I are going out tomorrow night," he said.
"Okay. Wait, no. I have this thing I need to go to. It's a welcome home party for Raquelle's dad."
"How about I go with you and we can go out after?" he asked.
"I might get stuck there a while."
"We'll be stuck together, so there's no place I'd rather be."
"Wow, are we actually going on a date?" I teased.
"Are you suggesting I'd stand you up again? Because you're not getting away from me this time."
Chapter 23
The first thing I did when I got home was dig out the note I'd written to my dad and Kimber, the one that was intended to offer some comfort if I di
sappeared one day. It was right where I'd hidden it, beneath my sweaters. I ripped it into tiny pieces and flushed it down the toilet.
There was no need for those words that were supposed to soften the blow if I turned up dead. I was going to do what Gianna said. No more poking around in faction business. No more public displays for any reason. I'd do a better job of keeping my ability tacked down. My brazen behavior from the past weeks was forbidden, too. I'd taken risks I never should have, found one excuse or another to use my ability in the least desirable circumstances. As far as the outside world was concerned, I was just another normal, ungifted girl, going about her business.
I managed to convince myself I could pull this off. The acidic rock that had been growing in my stomach since the beginning of the semester dissolved.
I went down to the second floor to find my dad. He was in the master suite, reloading his suitcase for his flight to Bangkok. I launched myself onto the king-size bed and rested my chin on my knuckles. He zipped up his shaving kit and tucked it into his bag. The whole room smelled of his aftershave.
"I haven't seen that in a while," he said when he saw my smile.
"It's been a rough month."
There was no reason to tell him about my telekinesis or levitation or any of it, now. That decision alone was enough to wash me over with relief. There were some complications parents didn't need to know.
"Say hi to Mr. Crane for me, would you?" my dad said.
"About that. Is it okay if I take a friend to the party? We're going on a date after."
My dad waited to hear the string of details that I used to automatically share with him. I was fast growing out of that habit. So much of my life was unsharable. "His name is Jaxon." I left it at that.
"Is that the boy who stayed here one night? The one who wasn’t getting along with his family?"
"He's living with his brother now. Everything worked out okay."
My dad's enthusiasm, warm and cottony, cloaked my aura. "Sure, honey. I'm glad you're dating again. Take this one slow, okay? It took you a long time to recover from the last breakup."
"I'll be fine." I was keeping my heart out of this one. Jaxon wasn't going to get close enough to do any damage.
*******
Saturday afternoon, Jaxon picked me up and we followed Kimber's car up the hill to the Cranes' house. The sky was as blue and cloudless as a July day. It was supposed to downpour later, but you'd never know. Kimber had given me the okay to go on our date as long as we stayed at the party for an hour.
I was more excited than I'd been in months. This wasn't the emotional direction I was hoping to go. Jaxon was a temporary fix, a funhouse to explore until the "right" guy came along. Ultimately, I wanted to be with someone who was less crass, less frustrating, and more...oh who was I kidding? I was looking for a replacement for my soulmate, and that just was not going to happen.
"Where are we going after the party?" I asked.
"I thought we'd get something to eat."
"And then?"
He traced a circle on my thigh. "I can think of a few things."
I gave him a mock frown. "You have a dirty mind."
"You're just noticing?"
Inside the Cranes' mini-mansion, a butler took our coats. The three of us crossed the marble entryway into the parlor, where dozens of the Cranes' friends gathered. Waiters offered champagne to incoming guests. Jaxon swooped a glass off a passing tray, and Kimber swooped it right out of his hand.
"Why don't you kids get some punch and hors d'oeuvres?" She left us at the buffet table and joined the throng of people surrounding Mr. Crane.
I was in no hurry to talk to the guest of honor. My careless comments in his hospital room still scratched at my conscience. I hadn't forgotten his glassy, deadened stare right after I announced I was God's gift to paranormal beings.
"Echo Bennett."
I turned to see my principal loading his plate at the buffet table. "Hi Mr. Lauer. How are you?"
"Very good. Happy to see our mutual friend is home."
"Yeah, he looks a lot better than in the hospital. Oh, this is Jaxon. He's new at Lincoln."
Mr. Lauer gave him a long glare. "Where have I seen you before? Outside of school?"
Jaxon stiffened. "I have that kind of face. People are always telling me I look familiar."
Mr. Lauer blinked a few times and frowned, like an unpleasant answer had come to him. "If you'll excuse me." He headed for a group of adults.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"Dude needs to get his memory fixed." Jaxon's tone was edgy.
At that moment, the crowd around Mr. Crane thinned and Kimber motioned for us to join them.
Mr. Crane sat in a wheelchair with a blanket over his legs. His hair was salted with gray. The corners of his eyes crinkled with delight as guests leaned in to hug him. He was, in all appearances, harmless. Still, I linked my fingers through Jaxon's to keep from fidgeting.
"It's not permanent," he said when he saw my eyes fix on his wheelchair. "I asked for a scooter, but the missus doesn't trust me to drive through the house without damaging her Tiffany collection."
Everyone around him got a good chuckle out of that. He patted my arm. "Echo, it's wonderful of you to come by. Thank you."
"I'm glad you're doing better. Welcome home," I answered.
"Kimber tells me you visited me a few weeks ago. That was kind of you. I must have been a sight, tubes coming out of every orifice, drugged into the next world." His gaze shifted near and far, the memory of my visit distant and fuzzy.
His attention wandered and he greeted Jaxon and the next round of guests. Relief cascaded from my head to my feet. He hadn't remembered my visit.
I took Jaxon's hand and pulled him to the hors d'oeuvres table. Three strides later, I realized I'd been holding my breath.
"Everything all right?" he filled my cup with punch. I'd never told him about my visit to the hospital. At the very least, my behavior there was downright embarrassing.
"Just enjoying the freedom. No evil soldiers to watch out for, no lunatics following me. I'd forgotten what it's like to relax."
I noticed Mrs. Crane across the room, talking in low tones to Raquelle. Raquelle said something sharp to her mom and then stomped over to us.
"Welcome to our home. Thank you for coming. My mom's making me ask if I can get you anything, but you can forget it."
I bit my lip to keep from bursting out laughing. I shoved my plate at her. "I'm glad you asked. Those tiny crab puffs are delicious. We would like more, wouldn't we, Jaxon?"
"Yeah, sure. Tasty." He followed our battle, amused.
Raquelle shot poison darts with her eyes. Then, a look I couldn't decipher crossed her face. Right as the waiter passed by, she ever-so-casually bumped his tray full of champagne flutes. The glasses tipped, and before the waiter could recover, they crashed to the floor at our feet.
Champagne soaked my shoes. The room went quiet. I gaped at Raquelle.
Do it, her eyes dared me. Go ahead, get your revenge.
"Nice try," was all I said. Telekinetically dumping the punch bowl over her head would have made my day, but it wasn't an option.
Raquelle planted a hand to her mouth and recited one fake apology after another. Then she sauntered off.
"I bet there's a story behind this," Jaxon said.
"The Twitter version: I lost my temper, zapped a hole in her sweatpants, and now she's trying to out me."
"You can throw your energy? That is incredibly hot." His tongue played across his lip.
This tiny motion sent heat rising up my throat. "I think our hour is about up. I'm going to tell Kimber we're leaving."
Jaxon went to hunt down our coats. I spotted Kimber, signaled that we were on our way out, and slowly moved through the crowd toward the door. There must have been a hundred people visiting. It was obvious that Mr. Crane was respected, and even adored. I felt a guilty pang at the horrible accusations Connor had made about him, things that I'd ev
entually believed.
Free of the crowd, I headed down the long hallway to the exit. Mr. Crane appeared from one of the rooms and wheeled his chair next to me.
"I'm sorry you're leaving so soon," he said. "I wanted to thank you for visiting me in the hospital."
I smiled and placed my hand on his arm. Had the head trauma damaged his short-term memory? "Mr. Crane, you already said that, and you're welcome."
He placed a cold hand on mine. I squeezed it in a comforting gesture. He squeezed back. He didn’t let go.
"I wish I'd been able to talk when you visited, but those drugs made it impossible to answer your questions."
My blood cooled. "I don't remember asking anything." I said evenly.
His grip tightened. "Come now. You know who I work for, and you told me who you are. I remember well what you said."
I yanked my hand away. "The nurse gave you a painkiller. You were sleeping when I got there."
"The drug doesn't take effect for ten to fifteen minutes. Not when you've had as much of it as I have. You said you have telekinesis and can levitate. I bet it started after your accident last fall, after your coma, didn't it?"
"You're mistaken. I never said any of that." The tremble in my voice gave away my lie.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, Echo. I'm on your side. We can banter back and forth all day about what you confessed, but we're just skirting the real issue, and that is, what happens to you now?"
Chapter 24
My eyes grew wide. A scream tore through my chest.
"Steady, Echo. This isn't a good place to make a scene. Those of us in the Mutila stick close together." As Mr. Crane glanced across the room full of guests, I got his meaning. He was not the only member present.
The pleasant grin never left his face. "If the Mutila street soldiers had found you before I did, you would have ended up like so many of the young recruits—used up and thrown away. We have a way of making people disappear. I don't agree with all of the methods, which is why I'm grateful you came to me. I can make this easy for you. Most recruits don't have anyone to act on their behalf. That's when ugly things happen to them."
