I looked up at Grant and I could see it in his eyes, too. Hope, quickly masked. But hope.
“Yes, sir,” Anthony said as Fineman exited the interrogation room and several more guards came in to wrangle up the other captives.
Anthony shoved the ball gag back in Grant’s mouth, strapping it around his head and pulling it so tight it dug into Grant’s temples and cheeks. Anthony was pissed. I could practically see the rage radiating off of him as he circled behind my chair and handcuffed my wrists behind me, then yanked me up. He didn’t even undo the shackles that chained Grant’s ankles together before he grabbed him as well, shoving us out the door.
It was a slow shuffle to the elevators, Anthony seething all the way. Was he still mad about Major Tom, or was he pissed that Grant would be in my cell with me, a place he considered his dominion?
When we got to the elevators, he shoved us in. The doors closed and he slowly turned, his gun in his hand.
“What I would really like to do right now is shoot you both in the head,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be able to explain that to my employer, would I?”
I just stared straight ahead, trying to look scared and non-threatening, which wasn’t hard.
Grant shuffled his feet, his shackles clanking together.
“You two make quite a pair.” Anthony laughed. “And you’re in luck,” he said to Grant. “She gives a decent hand job.”
I felt the blood rush to my face. I had never—the bastard—someday he was going to pay for those words.
The doors chimed open behind him, and we stepped out into the dim corridor that led to my basement cell.
When both Grant and I were inside and Anthony had locked the door behind us, we stood, waiting, listening to his footsteps fade away into the distance.
He hadn’t taken off our handcuffs, Grant’s shackles, or the ball gag.
15
PASSION
Three days after the blowout between Marcus and Mr. James, things weren’t any better.
Yes, Marcus was recovering physically, but they’d been guarding him like a hawk. They let me and Samantha see him every day, but always with Reiny in the room. Obviously, they weren’t happy about what I’d told him, and they didn’t want me to tell him anything else. Our conversations were pretty stilted, but at least we got to see him.
Marcus refused to talk to his uncle or even allow him in his room. The guy was seriously sulking, and I’d been depressed enough myself to recognize his downward spiral in that direction. The Marcus I’d known had been replaced by someone else, someone named David who was sullen, and confused, and helpless. I’d lost my sister once. I couldn’t imagine losing her twice in one lifetime. I felt for him. I really did, but I also desperately needed him to get over it. And so did Olivia.
I was tired of being Reiny’s personal pincushion, too. She’d come to my room with her needles and taken three test tubes of my blood. When I’d asked her why, she’d said she just wanted to run a few more tests.
“Tests for what?” I’d asked. “If something is wrong with me, you’d tell me, right?”
“Nothing is wrong with you,” she’d assured me. “You’re perfectly healthy, but your blood has taken on some unusual qualities, and we’re trying to figure out exactly what that means.”
“Taken on?” I asked. “You mean it’s changed? Since when?”
“The sample I took in the ambulance differed significantly from the one taken at Edgemont High.”
This was about my power. It had to be. Samantha had said the sound of my PSS had changed, and this was proof my blood had changed as well. But Reiny wouldn’t say more, even when I pressed her. That didn’t seem right. It was my blood she was taking. It was my body and my health. If I had a power, I had a right to know what it was. Then again, at this point it looked like my power was alienating everyone around me.
Samantha would barely talk to me outside of our visits with Marcus. There was a wall between us now, a barrier I couldn’t get around. In her mind, I’d called the integrity of her father into question and apparently that was unforgiveable.
We were all a mess. Every one of us walking wounded. Even Mr. James had been thrown off his game. He didn’t seem to know what to do, other than amass men and weapons. It was obvious the confrontation with Marcus had taken more out of him than he’d ever admit, and maybe the loss of his wife had finally hit home.
I hadn’t talked to Jason about what I’d overheard. I’d almost done it a couple of times, but I could never get him alone. Every day more and more men arrived at the farm, setting up tents all around the house and grounds, practicing at the firing range, and Jason seemed to have finally found his niche amidst an army of Holders. I saw him at meals, but only occasionally, because now, with so many people to feed, there was a rotating eating schedule. He hadn’t even come up to see Marcus. Not once. It was like he’d forgotten us completely. Like he had never really been one of us at all.
Plagued by the unrelenting boredom and tension of the farmhouse, I’d gotten into the habit of hiding in my room, questioning the magic eight ball. I should have been praying, and sometimes I did, but God seemed far away and intangible. The ball, on the other hand, was solid and present and felt warm and tingly to the touch, a sensation I found strangely comforting.
It was late one evening and I was in bed, rolling its smooth black roundness in my palms, staring at the dark eight in the white circle.
“Should I try to tell Marcus more? Should I tell him about Olivia, even if it gets me banned from seeing him for good?” I asked, flipping it over to the window side.
Very doubtful
“Should I confront Jason like Samantha suggested?”
Yes definitely
“When? Right now?”
It is decidedly so.
“But how? I don’t even know where he is.”
You may rely on it.
Okay then. That seemed pretty clear. Purity had always insisted that when the magic eight ball agreed with itself three times in a row, you had to listen.
I got up from my bed, glanced out the window, and there was Jason, alone, striding across the well-lit yard of the farmhouse toward the front door. He had a towel slung over one shoulder. He was probably on his way in for a shower since everyone had been put on a rotation for those too, just like the meals.
I looked down at the eight ball in my hands. How had it known?
I put it reverently down on the bedside table and slipped out of my room, silently heading down the hall to the upstairs bathroom. There was a piece of paper taped to the door, a crude sign-up sheet with times and names scrawled across it. I ran my finger down it and there he was. Jason Williams, 11:30 p.m. This was my chance, and a rare one at that, because I knew how little Jason showered. But if I talked to him out in the hallway, someone might overhear us. I put my ear to the door. I didn’t hear anything, so I opened it. The bathroom was steamy and warm, but empty. I shut myself in and, a minute later, someone knocked.
“Anyone in there?” Jason asked.
I opened the door a crack, peeking out.
“Oh, Passion, sorry,” he said, looking embarrassed.
“Get in here.” I opened the door wider and looked up and down the hall. “I need to talk to you.”
“Um, okay.” He came in and I closed the door, locking it behind him.
It was a small bathroom, only a few feet between the sink, the toilet, and the shower.
“Sit down,” I said, gesturing toward the toilet seat.
“No, that’s okay,” he said, frowning. “Listen, is this going to take long? Because I only get twenty minutes to shower.”
“I don’t know,” I said, floundering. How was I even supposed to broach the subject? Olivia would have just asked him straight out, but I wasn’t Olivia. “The thing is—I overheard something the night we got here,” I ploughed on. “I was on the stairs, and I heard Mr. James say something to you.”
“I see,” Jason said, his eyes and his face closing u
p, his body gone rigid and tense. “Whatever you think you heard, you don’t want to go there. Trust me on this, Passion. Leave it alone.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t. You knew Mr. James before this, and he knew you. How can I possibly trust you knowing you kept that a secret from all of us?”
“You should never trust anyone,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Haven’t you learned that by now?”
I spun toward the door, but he was there before me, blocking it with his body, his hand on the doorknob.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” He gestured at the toilet seat behind me. “So sit down and we’ll talk.”
I sat down and glared at him.
“You shouldn’t have overheard that,” he said, leaning against the door. “It complicates things and puts you in more danger than you’re already in. But I can see if I don’t tell you something, you’re gonna storm out of here and get us both in trouble, so here it goes. I met Mr. James a long time before you did. I met him at my father’s game preserve a few weeks before Marcus showed up and got me out. He was there negotiating something between The Hold and the CAMFers. The two sides have meetings like that a few times a year, but that was the first time Mr. James had ever come himself, so it must have been something big. But it didn’t go well. My father was in a drunken rage for days afterwards. Mr. James wasn’t happy either. Before he left, he found me and told me my father had put me on the CAMFers’ extraction list, and someone would be coming to take me away soon. He said I had another choice though—that three guys with PSS would show up and when they did, I should go with them. He promised it would save my life. And that’s exactly what happened.”
I sat there, stunned, my mouth hanging open. There were a lot of things I’d imagined Jason telling me, but none of them had prepared me for this.
“The CAMFers and The Hold meet? Why would they do that?”
“It’s like any other war or conflict.” He shrugged. “Politics under the table is always part of it.”
“And you trusted Mr. James, knowing he was negotiating with CAMFers?”
“I told you, I don’t trust anyone,” Jason said. “But he told me someone was coming and they did. I’m not sure I would have trusted Marcus enough to leave if I hadn’t had the heads up. And it’s worked out for me so far.”
“Wait, how would Mr. James have even known Marcus was coming?”
“He’s his nephew. You really think he wasn’t keeping tabs on him?”
“Tabs like you?” I asked. “Have you been reporting to Mr. James this whole time?”
“No.” Jason scowled, his hackles up. “I didn’t tell him anything. Are you calling me a traitor?”
“So, he just helped you out of the kindness of his heart, no string attached?” I didn’t buy it. There was something Jason wasn’t telling me. The Mr. James I knew used every resource at his disposal. And the Jason I knew wouldn’t have trusted Mr. James so easily, not even to save his own skin, unless there had been the promise of something else, something more significant. It had been stupid to ask Jason. By his own admission, he didn’t trust anyone, including me. He was probably lying straight to my face.
“Let it go, Passion,” Jason said, staring down at me. “It’s not your concern.”
“But I—” I felt a surge of adrenaline pump through me, as if my life was suddenly and inexplicably in danger. And then Olivia was yelling in my head. Passion, I’m in the compound in Oregon. Grant is here too. Tell Marcus. Come get us.
I jumped up from the toilet and sprang toward Jason.
“Get out of my way.” I shoved at him. “I need to get out of here. Now.”
“Hey, settle down!” He grabbed my arms. “You can’t tell anyone what I—”
“Let go of me!” I lifted my knee, jabbing it into his crotch as hard as I could.
He went down fast, straight onto the tile floor, curling up into a ball and groaning. When I pulled the door open it banged into his head, and I didn’t even care. I was channeling Olivia, her voice and urgency still ringing in my head, and I’d gotten more than a voice this time. There had been an image too, a vision of her in a small room looking up at Grant Campbell. A Grant all grungy and abused with a ball gag in his mouth, but it was definitely him. And it had been horrible.
I raced down the hall toward Marcus’s room.
There wasn’t any question anymore. I had to tell him.
I threw open the door and charged in, then skidded to a stop when I saw the witch sitting at Marcus’s bedside, holding his hand in hers.
There was another one standing at the end of his bed.
A second witch.
They were two grown, middle-aged women, decked out in black flowing dresses, with pointy shoes and hats, fake eyelashes, and caked on makeup, each one with a bulging wart on her nose. Their wigs were awful, both long black hair, one streaked with purple, the other with red, looking all wind-blown as if they’d just ridden in on their brooms.
As soon as I burst in, all eyes were upon me.
The witches stared, and Marcus glanced up.
“I—who—what is going on?” I asked, looking from Marcus to the witchy twins.
“Passion!” the one at the end of the bed cried, rushing at me and crushing me in a crinkly black embrace before I could do anything but gape. “I’m so glad you’re safe. Chloe assured me you were, but I had to see for myself.” She was babbling, and she might have even been crying a little.
“Dr. Black, what are you doing here?” I gasped, melting into Olivia’s mother’s arms. As soon as I’d heard her voice, I’d recognized her, even decked out as a witch and looking much thinner and frailer than I remembered. “I thought you were in Indy?”
“Well, we were,” she said, gesturing at the other witch who was still sitting with Marcus. “But Chloe needed to see her nephew, and when she told me you were here, I knew I had to come too. When Olivia left Greenfield—I had no idea you two were together and heading to The Hold. It’s such a relief to know you’re okay. How are you, really?” she asked, gripping my arms gently and holding me away from her to look me up and down. She cared about me. I knew that. But I wasn’t who she’d really wanted to see. I wasn’t her daughter.
“I’m good,” I said, glancing from Olivia’s mom to Marcus’s aunt, my head still reeling. Samantha’s mom was here. What did that even mean? Had she left John Holbrook and the council to side with her husband again? There were so many questions swimming around in my mind I latched on to the most crucial one, of course. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Oh, this,” Dr. Black grimaced, looking down at her odd get-up. “These are our disguises. What better way to escape the watchful eyes of a tired surveillance team than to go out on Halloween in the most popular mom costume there is? They had no chance of tracking us in that onslaught of witches.”
Was it Halloween? I did the math in my head and realized it was. How could I have forgotten my family’s least favorite holiday? That wonderful night every year when we turned off the porch light, put out the “No trick-or-treaters” sign, barricaded ourselves inside the house, and spent the evening praying and fasting for all the poor souls being lost to Satan through his evil minions: Mars, Nestle, and Hershey.
Then again, no one had dressed up at the farmhouse or even mentioned what day it was, unless you counted everyone being dressed up like G.I. Joe.
I looked over at Marcus. He was holding his aunt’s hand, and there was finally a glimmer of hope in his eyes. I glanced at her. “But I thought you were—” I started to say, but didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.
“I was,” she said, her eyes measuring me. “And I still am. But the new Hold is, unfortunately, a mass of disorganization. So many parents grieving, and none of them thinking. It’s going to take a long time for anything useful to formulate out of that chaos, and I just don’t think we have the luxury of that kind of time.”
“We don’t,” I said, my eyes sliding back to Marcus. H
ad she told him? Did he know what we were talking about?
“Well, if there is one thing I know about my husband, he gets things done,” she added. “That’s why I’m here. Why I brought Sophie. We need to locate these missing kids and get them back. There is nothing more crucial than that. Nothing.”
It’s what I’d been waiting to hear for days.
“I know where they are,” I said.
“What?” Marcus blurted, sitting forward in his bed. “You know where they’re holding Danielle?”
“No—I—”
“Calm down and let the girl speak,” Mrs. James said, stroking his arm and soothing him.
“I—It’s a long story, but I have a connection with Olivia,” I explained. “I can sometimes sense where she is and I get images, sometimes even words and feelings.”
“Oh my God,” Dr. Black exhaled next to me, clutching my hand. “Is she—okay? Can you feel her right now?”
“No, but I did just a minute ago. That’s why I ran in here. I’ve felt her a couple of times before, but this time it was really strong. And it was a message, like she was talking in my head. She told me where she is. And that Grant’s with her. She said we should come for her.”
“Grant Campbell?” Dr. Black asked, surprised. “He was at the Eidolon?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “He came with some girl from The Hold named Eva.”
“Did Olivia mention any others besides Grant?” Mrs. James asked.
“What about Danielle?” Marcus demanded. “Did she mention Danielle?”
“Calm down,” his aunt told him. “If we find Olivia and Grant, it will lead us to knowledge of Dani as well.”
I stared at Samantha’s mother. Did she really believe her niece was still alive, or was she just protecting Marcus until his memory came back? I was beginning to see why the old Marcus had been so calculating and wary of trusting his family. Hanging out with them was like swimming with sharks.
“So, what did Olivia tell you?” Mrs. James asked impatiently. “Where are they?”
Crap. How long had I been standing there staring at her and comparing her to marine life?
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