by Nina Croft
Dr. Walker led the way, and she followed, flanked by the two guards. As soon as they cleared the doorway, her mind flooded with the thoughts of a hundred people, both in the facility and beyond. She blocked them out. Reached out with her mind.
“Jake.”
After her, Jake was the strongest of them. If anyone could hear her, it would be him.
“Jake.”
She was pretty sure they were taking her to the same room where she’d met the others. A shielded room, so once there, she’d be cut off.
“JAKE!”
“Kaitlin. I’m here.”
She almost crumpled as she heard her name. A sound must have escaped her, because Walker peered over his shoulder, a frown on his face, and she did her best to blank out the wild exhilaration from her expression. She had to fight the urge to fall to the ground and bawl her eyes out. She had to keep it together, tell Jake everything she had gleaned from the glimpses into the minds of the guards.
“Jake. I’m in Surry, south of—”
“I know. We’re coming for you. Just hold on, sweetheart.”
She sniffed. Controlled herself. “I will. The others, Jake, they’re still alive, but I don’t—”
A hand shoved her from behind. They’d reached the doorway, and she was pushed inside and the connection lost. Her breathing was coming fast and hard. She had to calm herself down.
It was the same room, but the sofas were gone. This time, it was set up with a big chair in the middle of the room, with leather restraints at the legs and arms. Bile rose in her throat. Were they going to torture her? But it was the man in the corner who drew her gaze. Dex, and the fear was clear on his face. Likely, he’d also made the twin connection and realized he was the most expendable. She dipped into his head, sensed his panic. He was trying to hold it together, but he didn’t want to die. And he certainly didn’t want to sit in that chair.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “I’ve heard from Jake. He’s coming to get us.”
Wonder washed through him, dispersing a little of the fear. Then he glanced at the chair. “Well, let’s hope he’s quick.”
“Don’t worry. Whatever they ask, I’ll cooperate.” But what could they ask? Would she want to do it? But nothing could be worse than standing around as they hurt or even murdered Dex. Anger flickered inside her, and she forced it down. “I’ll do it. They won’t have an excuse to hurt you. I won’t fucking let them.”
“So fierce.”
She bit down on her lip. And turned to face the doctor. “What now? Just fucking get on with it. Tell me what the fuck you want me to do.”
From the expression on his face, he hated this almost as much as she did. But the fucker had signed up for it. He’d had a choice.
“I—”
At that moment, the door opened and two guards came in, half walking, half carrying a man between them. A stranger. He wore dark pants and a blood-spattered white dress shirt. He wasn’t unconscious, but he wasn’t helping them, either, his feet sliding along the floor. They dragged him to the chair and dropped him into it.
Relief flowed through her, and she had to hold herself straight to stop the strength leaking out of her limbs. And that was so not right. Whoever this man was, he didn’t deserve this. Wasn’t that why she had gone back all those months ago, after the Tribe had first broken away from their government controllers? Since she’d turned sixteen—Jake had somehow stopped them using her before that—she’d been present at many, many tortures. Countless. So the pain and fear blurred into one. Some maybe deserved what they got, though, she’d never really convinced herself of that. And it was so pointless, when she could look into their minds and see their secrets. She’d come to understand that while on the surface these people deserved every pain and torture man could devise, on the inside, they were broken. Most people—though, she was sure there were exceptions—were not born evil. Something had happened to make them that way. She’d stopped terrorists who genuinely believed in their cause, serial killers who were convinced they were saving, not killing, their victims. Who was she to judge?
Another man followed them in. He wore a reflector device, and she was presuming he was in charge of this little party.
“Go,” he said to Walker.
Her doctor glanced at her, but then nodded and headed out, the palpable relief radiating from him. He was such a worm.
The man turned his attention to her, studying her. “I’m Peterson,” he said. “Follow instructions and you and your friend”—he nodded to Dex—“will both be fine.”
She wanted to ask what would happen if they didn’t but managed to hold herself back. This was no time for attitude, because she was guessing that she wouldn’t be the one to bear the brunt of the repercussions. Dex would. She nodded.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be good,” she said to Dex.
They were fastening the arm and leg restraints on the prisoner now, and she studied the man. He was big, muscular, with short dark hair and hazel eyes. Maybe forty, his skin was weathered, and he had lines that showed he had seen much of the world and found it wanting. Blood caked beneath his nostrils. She hoped they had brought him to her as an alternative to torture.
He caught her gaze and frowned. She delved into his mind. He thought her a child, and the idea of a child being present here disgusted him. She almost smiled. What she had here, was a genuine good person. She delved a little deeper—maybe not so good. He’d done some bad things in his time, but had always managed to justify them with his own code of conduct. Which, she’d come to conclude, was as good as it got.
“Tell us his name,” Peterson said.
She was guessing this was a test. “Fergus Baker.” Fergus, she liked the name. His eyes had widened as she spoke, but not with the usual level of shock when confronted by a mind reader.
Curious.
In seconds, she knew everything about him: name, where he was born, who he worked for…now that was interesting. And even more so…he knew Sadie. Not only knew her, but knew what she was. And he was making the connection. She kept all the expression from her face.
“Who does he work for?” Peterson asked.
“Ethan Weiland.”
“And Weiland?”
“He works for the Conclave.” The bastards. Her stomach muscles tightened. This was the first time anyone had ever mentioned the Conclave. What did it mean that they were coming out into the open?
It also worried her a little that they were making no attempt to hide what she was doing from Fergus. That couldn’t bode well for him. But she had bigger worries.
“Jake, where are you?” Of course, he couldn’t hear her through the walls of the cell.
She wished she’d gotten more information. How long? Would they—could they break in? The security here wasn’t huge. Apart from them, there was nothing here to guard, and they were kept locked up for most of the time.
“What does he know of the Conclave?”
Another test? What to do? How much did they already know? They had to know this. She blew out her breath.
“He knows everything. His boss is high up, and Fergus is his right-hand man. No secrets.”
“What does he know about the Tribe?”
She cast Peterson a brief look. Time to see if her acting had worked over the last few weeks, and they’d believed the made-up limitations to her powers. “It’s muddled. Can I touch him?”
She held her breath, but Peterson nodded. Sinking to her knees, she rested her palms on his thighs, and he tensed up.
“I’m eighteen,” she whispered. “No child.”
Fergus knew a whole load about the Tribe. He didn’t like Sadie, thought she was a bitch—not far wrong there, but Kaitlin loved her. And he hated the thought of anyone in his head. What was he hiding? He worshipped his boss and worried Sadie was bad for him, would get him killed. Sadie was working with Weiland? That’s how Jake had managed to find them. She sifted through the information, tried to work out what these people would know,
and what they wouldn’t. Finally, she sat back on the heels and looked at Peterson.
“His boss found out recently that the Tribe existed. He doesn’t know details—they were part of a project run by Travis Weiland, a cousin of his boss. A woman thought to be associated to them was captured and interrogated…” And here was where she was starting to make things up. She cast a warning glare at Fergus, and he picked it up—he was bright, he understood. “The woman was interrogated, but she was nothing more than a tool, used by this Tribe, and they got nothing useful from her. Now, Ethan is awaiting Travis’s return and intends to get more information then.” She frowned, touched him again lightly. “Tonight. He will see Travis tonight.” She pushed herself to her feet and faced Peterson. “And by the way, Fergus thinks his boss is going to be totally pissed that you’ve taken him. And you don’t want to piss off Ethan Weiland, if you can possibly help it. Very likely he’s going to kill you.”
A smile flickered across Fergus’s lips and was gone again.
Had she done okay? She waited. Inside she was shaking, but she reckoned a little bit of fear wasn’t a bad thing.
Finally, Peterson nodded. “Tell us about Weiland’s security tonight.”
Tonight was a big bash for all the Conclave. Weiland was there, but so was Sadie. No way was she putting Sadie in danger. So she’d lie and hope that Jake was really on his way and would find her before they discovered she had lied.
“His personal assistant is with him, but she’s no threat.” Ha—she’d tell Sadie that one. “Other than that, ten men, but no one close. The Conclave takes care of security within the house.”
That was a lie. Fergus had put four of his men in place as waiting staff. But Peterson didn’t need to know that.
“That’s all?” Peterson asked.
“Yes.”
He studied her for a moment, then pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, punched in a number. “Sir. The interrogation is complete. Weiland knows nothing more than what he’s told you. What do you want to do with the prisoners?”
Kaitlin swallowed hard. “It will be all right,” she said to Dex. “I think I fooled them.”
“I believed you.”
“Maybe I’ll be an actress, now that the whole government agent thing has fallen through.”
“Go for it.”
Peterson ended the call and turned to the guards. “Take these two back to their cells.” He waved at her and Dex. “Leave Baker here for the moment. We’ll dispose of him later.”
That didn’t sound good for Baker, but his face was impassive. He trusted his boss. Ethan Weiland would have realized there was a problem by now. He knew where this place was. He would guess that Travis was a backstabbing, double-crossing bastard.
“I hope so,” she murmured.
He liked her better than Sadie.
“That’s because I am nicer. Good luck, Fergus.”
One of the guards grabbed her shoulder and hustled her to the door. They were just about there when Peterson’s phone rang. He listened for a moment, then closed off the call and slid the phone into his pocket. His gaze fixed on Kaitlin.
“It appears you lied.” He turned to the guard holding Dex. “Kill him.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan pushed the phone into his pocket, a frown pulling his brows together. He smoothed it away. Show nothing. That was the mantra of the Conclave. Give nothing away.
But where the hell is Fergus?
“What’s the matter?” Sadie asked.
As if she didn’t know. “I can’t reach Fergus. He’s not answering his phone.”
“You want to leave? Go find him.”
“Hell, no.” The only thing he could do was go in there and act as if nothing was wrong. Hell, hopefully nothing was wrong. But he didn’t like it.
She touched his arm. “I’ll see if anyone knows anything.”
“Thank you.”
“I actually like Fergus.”
He snorted but linked his arm with hers. “One thing occurred to me. What if Travis recognizes you?” he asked.
“I’d thought about it, but I think the risk is low. All the Tribe look similar, but with the exception of the twins, the similarities are superficial—height, hair coloring, eyes. I have at least two of those things covered.”
“Okay, but let me know if he even looks at you funny.”
“I will.”
As they approached the big double doors into the ballroom, they opened as if by magic, and together they stepped inside. And she stopped. He cast her a sideways look. She was staring around her, eyes narrowed. Clearly, she’d seen something she didn’t like, and he wished he could see into her mind. Know what she was thinking. Then she gave her head a little shake, and her mouth curved into a somewhat forced smile. “Let’s party.”
They strolled through the room. She had a faraway look in her eyes, but other than that, there was no sign of what she was doing. Practice, he supposed. She halted, gestured discreetly in the direction of a blond woman in a scarlet dress.
“Honestly, Ethan,” she murmured. “That one has to die.”
“Lauren?” Well, that was no surprise. She’d always been a contender and more so since the day he’d seen her at his father’s office.
“Sorry, but she had nothing to do with your mother,” Sadie said. Exploding that little theory. That would have been the best of some very bad options. Killing Lauren would be doing the world a favor. She was one of the more…radical members of the Conclave.
“Radical? I’m not sure that’s the right word,” Sadie muttered. “A few years ago, she tried to destroy London, some sort of biological attack, which would have wiped out the whole population. What sort of fucking nutcase job does that?”
“Descartes,” he murmured. “I’d heard a rumor.” Though he hadn’t realized it had gone so far. Something must have gone wrong, though, to presumably put the plan on hold. “There’s a faction within the Conclave who believe we should come out from behind the screen of secrecy. That we should take over the world in reality, for all to see.”
“But why destroy London?”
“To show we can, I suppose. One definitive example of our powers. After that, it would be easy to take control.”
She turned to face him. “And how do you feel about that, Ethan?”
He cast her a look. “You know how I feel. I wasn’t involved, knew nothing about it at the time, and luckily something obviously went wrong.”
“Luckily.”
He rested a hand on the bare skin at the small of her back, felt a shiver run through her. He wanted this night finished with, not hanging over him. He craved some time alone with her, with nothing between them. Was that even possible? He hoped she’d moved past wanting to kill him. But who really knew?
They strolled on, letting her dictate the pace, pausing now and then. But the little frown lines between her eyes grew deeper. Finally, she halted him again with a hand on his arm. “It’s not working—too much background, and I’m not the best at this.” She examined the room, studying its occupants, lips pursed. “I’ve got an idea—why don’t you introduce me to people and somehow bring your mother into the conversation? You remember that time my mother…sort of thing. That way, I’ll be able to follow the thought.”
“Okay, we’ll try it.”
He halted beside a small group of people. “Hello, Damian.” Damien was the head of one of the other houses. Around forty-five, he was young to have control. His father had died in a convenient boating “accident” two years ago.
The man nodded, and then turned his attention to Sadie, his gaze wandering over her in a way that made Ethan want to punch him on the nose. Sadie’s lips twitched.
“This is my assistant, Sadie,” he said. “Our mothers were friends.”
They chatted for a few minutes to give her time to do whatever she did, then she gave him a little nod, and they moved on.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Yes, I got them all. But nothin
g dodgy. Most people have happy memories of your mother. She sounds like a nice person. Too nice for your dad.”
“You don’t like my father?”
He’d introduced them earlier; his father still wore the reflector device, so Sadie couldn’t read him. He was hoping that wouldn’t be an issue, and that whatever had happened to his mother, his father had had no part in it. He’d given Sadie a searching look—as though he sensed something not quite right. But then, you didn’t get to lead the Conclave without being perceptive.
“Honestly? He makes me want to squirm or do something really childish, like stick out my tongue. But I restrained myself. I think I must be maturing.”
They moved on, repeating the process with a few more groups. They were running out of people. And Travis still hadn’t showed up.
Ethan had his back to the door, when Sadie tapped him lightly on the arm, and he turned and went still. Travis stood inside the doorway as though waiting for someone. His gaze roamed the room while he talked into a cell phone, a small social smile on his face. Silver glinted in his hair; he was still wearing a reflector device, so Sadie would get nothing from him. It wasn’t unexpected, but he really wanted to find out what was inside Travis’s head. Maybe they needed a few minutes alone. Just him, Travis, and Sadie. He was quite looking forward to it.
Travis put the phone back in his pocket. His gaze settled on Ethan, and his smile widened. While they’d never been friends growing up, they had spent family holidays together. But Travis had never had the doubts he had. He was Conclave through and through, and ruthless enough to always do what was needed. Until this last project. When he’d gone against a whole lot of protocols. Why?
Travis’s gaze shifted to Sadie standing at Ethan’s side. For a moment, nothing happened. With her short blond hair, and brown contacts, she looked nothing like other members of the Tribe. Then Travis went still. His gaze shifted from Sadie to Ethan and back again, and something cold ran over his expression. Still staring at her as if he couldn’t drag his gaze away, he pulled the cell phone from his pocket and spoke into it.
