“A blood sample? That’s it?” There had to be more to it. Crane wouldn’t be blocking me from his thoughts – he definitely had his mental barriers in place – if all they wanted was a blood sample.
“They’d like to evaluate the three of you, as well. I’m sure it will mostly involve questions about TOXIC and your experiences since receiving the drug.”
“Mostly?” I parroted, honing in on the one word. “Mostly” implied that UNITED wanted to do more than question us.
“They want to do psychological evaluations on each of you,” Crane admitted.
I swallowed hard and turned back around. Psychological evaluations. Wow. While not surprising, also not good. They’d see how unstable I’d become over the last year, that my mood swings were out of control. They’d know Penny had been experiencing catatonic episodes, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Who knew what they’d learn about Erik. What then? What if they determined we were too dangerous to roam free? Would they lock us in a medical ward and study us?
“You have nothing to worry about, Talia,” Crane said, in what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring tone, but fell flat. “I’d never have agreed to let them evaluate you three if I thought there was even the slightest possibility you all would be harmed in the process.”
Right, I thought, but being “harmed” and not being locked up were completely separate things.
“You can always opt out. The choice is yours.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. Yes, in theory I had a choice. Not in actuality, though. If I didn’t go through with the evaluation, then UNITED would still be lacking their proof.
“Penelope has agreed,” Crane added softly.
Erik would, too, I thought. Because this was bigger than the three of us. TOXIC and Mac needed to be stopped. It was a small sacrifice on my part. After encountering that Mind Manipulator in Gatlinburg, who I was starting to fear might be Created, I was more determined than ever to stop them. Recalling how easily that person had manipulated me – me, an Elite-level Talent – I understood what was at stake here.
That person had been given the gift of mind manipulation and was abusing the power. He wasn’t using it for the greater good, he was attempting to brainwash people with it.
After a good night’s sleep, my brain was functioning better, and I was starting to understand what I’d seen. The vision of those children morphing into grotesque half-human, half-animal hybrids hadn’t been meant for my eyes. I’d reversed the mental intrusion, seen into that manipulator’s mind. Those images were real. They were his memories. And that was truly terrifying.
“No, I want to do it,” I said. “How bad can it be, right?”
“Right.” I heard the smile in Crane’s voice.
Neither of us spoke, the silent seconds stretching into silent minutes. I focused on Erik, content to watch his eyeballs flitter under his lids like he was having a fitful dream. The rest of his body remained eerily still. Every so often my gaze flicked to his heart monitor to reassure myself his heart was still beating.
I felt Crane behind me, watching me watch Erik. He was studying me, the back of my head at least. I wondered what he saw. Sure, I could have swiped his mind, but I wasn’t in the mood. There was so much going on, Ian Crane’s head was probably a troubling place to be. Probably more troubling than my own head.
“We captured a TOXIC operative during the raid. He tried to board one of the escape planes, and not knowing what else to do, the people overpowered him and brought him here. We are holding him in the cage. He hasn’t said much, but I think maybe if you talk to him, he’ll cooperate with us,” Crane said after a while.
He’d been so quiet, the sound of his voice startled me.
“Why me? I’m sure he considers me a traitor. Not likely he’ll be any more willing to talk to me than he has been to you.”
“It’s my understanding that he knows you. Frederick says you two are friends. His name is Harris Daughtery.”
“Harris?!” I exclaimed, whipping around to face Crane, all thoughts of the evaluation temporarily forgotten. “Harris is here?”
“Yes, a couple of levels below you actually. I assure you, he is being treated well,” Crane quickly added. “Do you think you might try talking to him?”
It was strange to have someone ask me rather than tell me what to do. Like with the evaluation, I had a choice. I could tell Crane to go to hell, and while I was sure he would be disappointed, I doubted he would force me to do his bidding. Then a horrible thought occurred to me. “Does Penny know?” I whispered.
“My niece?” Crane asked, surprised, like there was another Penny lurking around Coalition Headquarters. “I don’t know if she does or not. She’s been busy with other matters. Why would Penelope care?”
Awkward.
How did I tell Crane that his niece, who was like a daughter to him, had been, um romantically involved with Harris?
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I thought about telling Brand. Man, he’d be so jealous.
“They were … close,” I said finally.
Crane appeared confused. “She sent regular reports while on assignment, and filed a very thorough one after her return. I don’t recall seeing his name.”
“Their relationship was personal,” I said comfortably, hoping he’d take the hint so I wouldn’t have to spell it out. “It wasn’t relevant to her mission,” I added for good measure.
“I see,” Crane said thoughtfully. “Well, in that case, it’s probably better I don’t tell her just yet. The young man is not well.”
“Not well?” I asked. The cinnamon buns began to churn in my stomach.
“You’ll understand when you see him. I can’t explain it, but hopefully you’ll be able to shed some light on his current … condition.” The way that Crane said “condition” made my toes tingle. What had TOXIC done to Harris?
“The UNITED council members will be here by dinnertime. If you’re willing, I’d like for you to see Mr. Daughtery before you meet with them. I have a feeling they’ll want to evaluate him, as well. But I’d like your take on his mental state before I let them know he’s here.”
“Okay, sure,” I said quietly.
At one time, Harris had been a good friend to me. He’d always been a good friend to Donavon and Erik, somehow managing to juggle the two guys, despite their mutual distain for one another. Someone had to determine what was wrong with him, and I preferred that someone be me.
“I’ll send Brand for you later in the day. I have some things to attend to before the Council arrives, so he will accompany you to visit Mr. Daughtery.”
I nodded, considerably less enthusiastic – which was saying something, because I was dreading seeing Harris already – about the visit than I had been a moment before.
Penny brought lunch around noon, and the two of us ate and talked while Erik slept. She already knew most of the details of the attack on Tramblewood since she’d been tuned into the same frequency our earpieces were transmitting on. Brand had filled in the gaps for her. Apparently he was still pissed about me destroying the bridge, and had complained to Penny about it at length. But after some gentle prodding on her part, he’d grudgingly admitted the decision had been for the best. I understood him a little better when Penny informed me it was his job to tell the families of the deceased that their loved ones weren’t coming home.
“I saw Cadence,” I told Penny.
“Really? How is she?”
I shrugged and poked at the remains of my lunch, stewed vegetables. Bright orange liquid seeped out of an overcooked tomato when I speared it with my fork.
“She’ll heal,” I said finally.
“That’s good. Uncle Ian told me you found her brother, Randy Choi.”
The subject of Randy was one I’d been hoping to avoid. In hindsight, bringing up Cadence had been a bad idea.
Randy had helped Penny’s mother escape Tramblewood after she�
��d been caught trying to break into the McDonough School. When I’d first learned about the incident, I thought it strange. Why would the Coalition want to break into the school? I’d thought. Now, well, now I was pretty sure I knew. Me. Ellen Larsen, Penny’s mother, Ian Crane’s sister, had been sent to rescue me.
She’d been caught and thrown in prison. Randy had been one of her jailers. From the limited information I had, I knew the two developed a friendship, and Randy helped her escape. TOXIC had chased Ellen, shooting and killing her before she reached Coalition territory.
Like so many wrongs in Penny’s life, I felt responsible – if indirectly – for this one, too.
“I want to meet him,” Penny continued when I didn’t answer. “He was the last to see her, you know.”
“Penny –”
“It’s been a long time, Tal. I’m okay.”
But she wasn’t okay. The torment was all over her face. Her eyes had a haunted, hollow quality to them. I wanted to say something helpful. I’d have settled for something intelligible. Instead, all I came up with was, “Seeing Randy will help.”
Help what, I didn’t know. Closure. People always talked about getting closure, so maybe meeting Randy would help Penny get closure. Just like killing Mac would help me get mine.
“I’m just glad you all got out of Gatlinburg,” Penny said, switching gears. “Uncle Ian said it was close.”
“It was,” I agreed, shifting uncomfortably in my chair as I thought about how close I’d come to surrendering because of that stupid Manipulator. “Do you think Mac’s already started injecting people with the new form of the drug? The one with your and Erik’s blood.”
“Yeah, probably. I mean he did use the old drug on people. I’m sure he’s using this one to bolster his army.”
That was exactly what I’d feared.
“I think I met one. One of the created.”
Voicing my theory that Mac had already succeeded in creating another Mind Manipulator who was as powerful, if not more so, as me, made it more real. If he had one, he probably had more. Maybe he had an entire army of morphing Mind Manipulators who foretold the future. I’d handed him Bethy – an exceptionally powerful Visionary – on a silver platter weeks ago. That was plenty of time for him to have stolen enough of her blood to make more just like her.
I told Penny about my encounter with the Manipulator, sparing no detail.
“Wow. So he was as strong as you?” she asked, green eyes wide with amazement.
“Stronger, maybe,” I admitted reluctantly. It was stupid, but I was used to being the best, the most powerful, and I hated having an equal in the talent department.
“No, not stronger.” Penny shook her head decisively. “Not possible. A created Talent is only as strong, at best, as his creator – the blood donor. So, he can’t be stronger than you since you’re most likely his blood donor.”
I choked on my own saliva. “Excuse me?” I stammered, sure I’d misheard.
“You are the strongest Mind Manipulator alive today –”
“That we know of,” I interjected.
“That we know of,” she conceded. “Which means Director McDonough probably used your blood to make that guy. If he’s as strong as you say.”
I was torn between being comforted and disgusted by this. Comforted because that meant the next time I faced off with my talent clone, I’d know I was stronger than him. Disgusted because there was a created Mind Manipulator out there abusing my talent.
The anger began as a small knot in the pit of my stomach, growing hotter with each breath I took, until finally I was ready to explode. My natural gifts, my talents that were just as much a part of me as my freckles or my purple eyes, were being exploited. Until that instant I hadn’t truly appreciated how infuriating that was.
“Tal?” Penny sounded scared. “Tal, calm down.” Her thin fingers were prying at mine.
I looked down and realized my nails had become talons, the skin of my arms leathery and black, and I was drawing deep grooves in the arm of the chair.
“Control, Talia. Remember? We need to stay in control.” Her voice was so soothing, her suggestion so reasonable. The anger began to dissipate, leaving a tranquil calm in its place.
Before my eyes, my hands became my own. I shook my head. “Looks like you were given my blood, too,” I told Penny.
Her grave silence was answer enough.
Dr. Patel made another visit that afternoon, accompanied by Brand. At first, I was dismayed by Brand’s appearance, but it proved beneficial when he told me that Henri was asking for me. Penny said she’d sit with Erik while I was gone. Brand hurriedly offered to wait with her. I smirked at his eagerness.
Dr. Patel escorted me down the corridor to Henri’s room, since he said that he needed to check on him anyway. On the short walk the doctor informed me that Henri had undergone minor surgery during the night, and the bullet damage had been repaired. The good news lifted my spirits.
Henri’s room was much smaller than Erik’s, more akin to a real hospital room than the posh hotel atmosphere of Erik’s. He, too, had a window that overlooked the ocean, and Frederick was admiring the view when I entered.
“Hey, Talia,” Frederick greeted me, turning at the sound of the door opening. “Doctor.”
“Mr. Kraft,” Dr. Patel nodded respectfully to Frederick. “And how are you feeling, Mr. Reich?” he asked turning his attention on Henri.
“Pretty good,” Henri replied.
I waved at Henri, then moved to join Frederick by the window. I smiled at him tentatively, letting him know my anger with him had lessened. It would be a while before I forgave him completely, but harboring a grudge was exhausting and seemed petty.
Together, Frederick and I watched while Dr. Patel removed Henri’s bandages and checked his shoulder. Fresh, precision-straight stitches held together tender pink skin. Henri’s color was much better than it had been when we arrived – no green tinge to his cheeks – and he seemed to be in a good mood.
“Your sutures look good, Mr. Reich,” Dr. Patel declared, and wrapped fresh bandages around Henri’s torso. “I do not anticipate lasting damage, but your range of motion will be limited for some time. In a couple of days we will begin some light physical therapy. Ms. Lyons, Mr. Kraft, I will see you both later.” With that Dr. Patel left to check on his other patients.
I moved to Henri’s bedside and gave him a tentative hug. “I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” I told him.
“Thanks to you,” he replied.
“Thanks to Dr. Patel,” I said. “He’s the reason you’ll be able to use that arm again.”
Gingerly, Henri wiggled his shoulder and grimaced. “Hopefully.” His expression turned serious, and he averted his gaze to his lap. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Talia. I overreacted.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Frederick interjected. “I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning. It’s my fault, really. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
I reached for Henri’s good hand, and threaded my small fingers through his long ones. “Frederick’s right. It is a lot to take in. I’m still wrapping my head around it all, and I’ve been here for days.”
“In Gatlinburg people were talking about Crane, saying how he’s this great person. They idolize him. I sort of always thought TOXIC was exaggerating the whole hating talents thing, so I wasn’t surprised to hear that wasn’t true. And Erik told me about the creation drug and how the Director had used it on Donavon, which is crazy,” Henri continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “It was just … I don’t know, when I saw you two with Crane, I felt like …” his voice trailed off.
“Like you’d been lied to?” I guessed.
Henri nodded miserably. I squeezed his hand affectionately. I knew the feeling all too well.
“Henri,” Frederick began, crossing the room in three long strides to join us.
“No, I get it,” Henri held up his free hand to cut off his boyfriend’s apologies, and winced when th
e movement irritated his shoulder. “You did what you thought was best. Not confiding in me about your involvement with the Coalition was for the best at the time. I understand that, seriously.”
Frederick and Henri exchanged smiles, both boys’ eyes glazing over with a warmth that made me feel like I should leave them alone. I patted Henri’s hand and was about to politely excuse myself before my presence become intrusive, when Henri asked, “How’s Erik?”
“Stable. Dr. Patel thinks he’ll make a full recovery,” I replied, trying to smile. I wanted to believe Dr. Patel. I needed to believe him. “Has Penny been by?” I asked to change the subject.
Henri laughed. “She stopped by earlier this morning. After all that she’s been through, it’s nice to see she hasn’t changed.”
“Did she tell you what happened to her?” I asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. Besides me, her uncle, and Brand, I didn’t think Penny had told anyone.
“No, Frederick did. Poor Penny.”
“I read her official report,” Frederick explained.
“She’s a survivor,” I said, thinking about her determination to go through with the evaluation, despite not knowing what that might entail.
Of the two of us, she was the stronger in many ways. Where I was scared of the unknown, she seemed to embrace it. She’d gone undercover in TOXIC fully aware of the consequences if she were discovered. Yet, she had no way to know what she’d find once there.
Now, once again, Penny was ready to do whatever it took to bring TOXIC down. She wasn’t concerned with the prospect of being locked away or treated like a test subject, and she had more reason to fear that than I did. After all, she’d already lived that reality. Not for the first time, I vowed to be more like Penny.
“Any news on Cadence? Or Randy?” I asked to break the awkward silence that had descended on our trio like a wet blanket.
“They’re both at one of the induction facilities,” Frederick said. “I’ve had their evaluations marked as high priority so they won’t have to stay there longer than necessary. With all of the refugees being brought in from the various Underground stations, it will take a couple of days, though.”
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