The Astral Traveler's Daughter

by K. C. Archer

  She took all that in, then her gaze narrowed on the black-clothed figure who stood behind Miles. Although the person could be seen only from the neck down, the shape of the body strongly suggested male. As Teddy watched, he raised his hand and pushed the barrel of a snub-nosed, semiautomatic pistol against a spot just above Miles’s right ear.

  Then he began to speak. “Hollis Whitfield and members of the Hyle Pharmaceuticals board.”

  “No!” Jillian gasped.

  Eli Nevin. Teddy had recognized his voice the moment he began to speak. Judging from Jillian’s anguished reaction, she had as well. It sounded like Eli, but there was something off . . . Teddy cut a quick, puzzled glance at Pyro and Dara, then returned her attention to the video as Eli continued speaking.

  “HEAT’s demands are simple,” he said. “One: Hyle must permanently shut down production of Xantal. Two: All lab animals must be removed from testing facilities and placed in no-kill shelters. Three: Hollis Whitfield must atone for his sins by resigning from all board positions, publicly and privately held. You have twenty-four hours. Should you choose not to comply with our demands within that time, Miles Whitfield will be executed.”

  The screen went black. Wessner pressed a button to shut it off.

  Pyro, Dara, and Teddy all began speaking at once. Clint silenced them, then looked directly at Wessner. “What do you know?”

  “We’ve identified the speaker as Eli Nevin, leader of the organization known as HEAT.”

  “No!” Jillian cried. “It can’t be! Eli would never—”

  “That’s enough.” Maddux slammed his palm on the slick mahogany table. He leaned toward Jillian, his eyes blazing. “It’s bad enough that Hollis has to go through this,” he gritted out. “I will not allow you to defend the man who’s threatening his grandson’s life. Is that understood?”

  Clint looked as if he wanted to say something to Maddux but demurred. It was clear that the general was in charge now, even within Whitfield Institute’s walls.

  Jillian shrank back in her chair, her arms wrapped around herself, her blue eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t understand.” Her voice was little more than a ragged whisper. “Eli would never hurt anyone or anything.”

  “Is it true you were romantically involved with Nevin?” Maddux pressed.

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “And the two of you broke in to Hyle Pharmaceuticals in September of this year?”

  Jillian nodded as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. “For the animals—”

  “Where is he?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know!” Jillian wailed. “I just know Eli wouldn’t do this!”

  “I’m afraid that’s no longer an issue for debate,” Wessner said. “Ms. Atkins has identified the voice of the man in the video as belonging to the same Eli Nevin who is wanted in conjunction with the bombing that took place at Hollis Whitfield’s home on Thanksgiving Day.”

  Nick said, “Surveillance footage shows that Eli Nevin was also present at yesterday’s HEAT protest at Hyle Pharmaceuticals.” His gaze met Teddy’s, then slipped away. “The same event where Miles was last seen.”

  “Yates,” Teddy blurted out. “He’s the one behind this, not HEAT, not Eli. Yates is mentally influencing Eli.”

  Maddux leaned forward. “What is she talking about?”

  “Teddy, we’ve been through this—” Nick began, but Maddux cut him off.

  “Derek Yates?” he snapped, swinging around to glare at Teddy. “The man you helped escape from prison last year? I’ve read your files, Ms. Cannon. You seem to be at the center of trouble everywhere you go.”

  Teddy shook her head. “Please listen.” Fighting a rising sense of panic, she swallowed hard and started again. “Mr. Whitfield, I saw Eli at your party after the bomb was disarmed. I saw Eli’s eyes—I know what mental influence looks like.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you report it at the time?” Maddux shot back.

  She turned to Clint. “Clint, listen. Yates was influencing him to read that—”

  “We have less than twenty-four hours to save Miles’s life,” Maddux interrupted. “I will not allow a single moment of time to be wasted on wild conjectures that lead us nowhere. We have a suspect. We have motive.”

  “It’s not wild conjecture. I know—” Teddy started.

  “I believe her,” Clint said.

  “She knows nothing,” Maddux finished savagely. “The only fact we have firmly in hand is that you were the one who was supposed to be protecting Miles when he was taken.” He let that sink in, then pointed to the TV. “We have the tape. Eli Nevin has been positively identified. HEAT has claimed responsibility. All the evidence we need in order to proceed is right there.”

  “He’s right,” said Whitfield. “That group . . .” His voice gave out, and he hung his head in a posture of utter defeat. “I should have taken their protests seriously. If anything happens to Miles . . .”

  Clint leaned across the table, his expression that of a man tasked with delivering unpleasant but necessary news. “Hollis, have you considered agreeing to their demands?”

  Whitfield stared at him, aghast. “Agree? You’re suggesting I give them what they want?”

  “I’m suggesting we should at least discuss it.”

  Whitfield brought up his chin. “No. There’s no discussion. I can’t do that.”

  “Surely nothing is worth your grandson’s life,” Dara put in. “Miles is worth a thousand times more than any profit Xantal might one day make.”

  “Money?” Whitfield recoiled as though he’d been slapped. “You think this is about money? I’m sure you all know by now what happened to my son. I can’t let that happen to my grandson.”

  “And,” Maddux interjected, “we do not yield to terrorists. We have no reason to trust that Miles would be safe even if we did comply with their demands.”

  “In that case, we’ll find him,” Pyro promised. “We’ll bring him home. This is what we’ve been trained to do.”

  “What you’ve been trained to do,” Maddux scoffed. “Where’s Eli Nevin? You’ve been looking for him for weeks, haven’t you? And you still haven’t found him.”

  Clint leaned across the table. “Wait just a damned a minute—”

  “Stop.” Hollis Whitfield rose to his feet. “Both of you, that’s enough. We have less than twenty-four hours to find Miles. We can’t waste time infighting. I’m putting General Maddux in charge of this investigation.”

  Clint rose to his feet, challenging Whitfield directly. “Hollis, you’re not thinking clearly. With all due respect, this is way outside the general’s line of expertise. If we want to find Miles, we put together a combined task force. Me, Agent Stavros, and Agent Wessner, along with my recruits—”

  “I’m sorry, Clint.” Whitfield moved to the door. “But I put my faith in all of you once, and now Miles’s life is in danger.” He shook his head. “I can’t risk it again. I expect you to follow the general’s leadership and find my grandson.” With that, he turned and left.

  A deathly silence hung across the room. After a minute, Maddux rose. To his credit, he didn’t gloat. He simply sent everyone out to await his orders, with the exception of Jillian, who was directed to remain in the conference room for further interrogation.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  TEDDY FOLLOWED THE OTHERS INTO the hall, too shaken to think, let alone move. She felt completely blindsided. Clint always knew what to do. But instead of depending on him, Whitfield had put Maddux in charge. Maddux, a hostile, unknown quantity who didn’t trust psychics. A factor in the equation that she hadn’t anticipated.

  She put a hand to her temple, as though physically attempting to put her thoughts in order. But she couldn’t shake off the shock of seeing Miles in that video. Or maybe she was just in shock, period. Everything felt foggy, like she was stuck underwater.

  “Teddy, you with us?” Pyro tucked his fingers
beneath her chin, tilted her face to meet his eyes. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Wasn’t that obvious? She blinked, looked at him. “We need to find Miles.”

  Dara shivered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Pyro caught Teddy’s elbow and steered her out of Fort McDowell and toward the dorms. Once he reached her room, he opened the door and ushered Teddy and Dara inside.

  Teddy sat down, nearly paralyzed by guilt. She was responsible for the disastrous chain of events that had taken so many: Molly. Eli. And now Miles. Miles, whom she was supposed to be protecting. If she hadn’t allowed herself to be distracted by Yates in the first place, Miles would be okay. If she hadn’t been obsessed with tracking Yates down all summer, none of this would have happened.

  No, she thought. She wouldn’t allow herself to wallow. She couldn’t afford to waste time. They had less than twenty-four hours to find Miles. As her resolve hardened, the fog that had enveloped her slowly faded away. She needed to think. She couldn’t slow time to stop this from happening. Couldn’t peek into someone’s head to get the answers. She had to put together the pieces and take action. Fast.

  Almost immediately, she grasped an advantage she and her friends had that Maddux lacked. It wasn’t that they were psychic—though she assumed that would help. It was that she knew who had taken Miles. Maddux was wrong. It wasn’t HEAT, and it wasn’t Eli Nevin.

  Derek Yates.

  Yates must have masterminded the whole thing, lying to Teddy as necessary. And he wasn’t a lone wolf. Not any longer. He must have reunited with Nilsson and Stanton. Four people besides him, maybe more. They needed food, shelter, access to video equipment, a soundproof room to detain Eli and Miles. That meant he’d taken up residence somewhere.

  All they had to do was find him.

  The door opened, accompanied by a muted sob. Footsteps. And then Jillian appeared. “They think,” she said, struggling to catch her breath between sobs, “that Eli did it. They think he’s behind all of it. I told them he’s been missing. I told them he wouldn’t hurt anyone. Even if the surveillance camera did show him at the protest, it doesn’t mean anything, right?”

  “It does mean something, Jillian.”

  Jillian turned her tear-streaked face toward Teddy.

  “It means someone’s been manipulating Eli from the very start, setting him up, with exactly this outcome in mind.”

  Dara shot her a dark look for her bluntness, then reached out to comfort Jillian.

  “So we find him,” Teddy continued ruthlessly, speaking as much to herself as to Jillian, “make sure Eli’s okay, make sure Miles is okay. Make sure something like this never happens again.”

  Teddy reached for the pair of wire glasses resting on her nightstand. Wrapped her fingers around the slim gold wire. Part of her wanted to believe that Miles had left a clue for her. A way for her to find him. Dunn had taught her psychometry. Wessner had taught her to put the life of her protectee above her own. Boyd had taught them that failure was not an option. Time to put those lessons to the test.

  * * *

  They chose to work from Professor Dunn’s classroom, hoping that location would bring their psychometry lessons more forcefully to mind. Teddy, Dara, Jillian, and Pyro arranged their desks in a loose circle, facing one another. In the oak grain of her desk, Teddy noted that a previous recruit had carved a heart around LK+NE 4EVER. She guessed defacing school property never got old. But nothing was 4ever. Nothing was absolute. Even time. Any psychic worth her salt knew that.

  “All right,” Dara said. “Who goes first?”

  Teddy didn’t want it to be Dara. If Dara had a death warning or a death vision . . .

  Pyro reached for the glasses, taking the choice away from them all. He held them in his hand, closed his eyes, and slipped into a meditative state. “Chemicals,” he said. “Something flammable, but I can’t place it. Ammonia, maybe? I see a color, too. Red. But not blood. Also heat. Like a long, shimmering wave of heat.” He opened his eyes and looked at Teddy and Dara. “Does that make sense? Was there anything like that at the protest?”

  Teddy caught her bottom lip, thinking. “I don’t remember any chemicals. No ammonia. But at the protest, a woman splashed me with corn syrup that had been dyed to look like blood.” Pyro was on track, though the information he’d garnered was useless in finding Miles. Unless the chemicals meant something to Dara?

  Dara shook her head. “Sorry. I was in the lobby with Whitfield. No chemicals there. All I saw was a chubby security guard.” She looked at Pyro. “But let’s not write it off. If you were right about the fake blood, there’s a good chance you’re right about the chemicals. Maybe a warehouse where cleaning products are stored, like a janitorial supply closet?”

  “Good,” Teddy encouraged. “We’re getting somewhere.”

  Dara passed Teddy Miles’s glasses. She hesitated before taking them. Marysue’s necklace had been the only object she’d used successfully for astral travel. She had tried and failed with Miles’s father’s dog tags. But it was worth another shot. There was so much at stake.

  Taking a breath, she tried to sink into a meditative state. After the meeting with General Maddux, she’d felt cloudy, confused—emotions swirling around her, as if she were caught in a riptide. She needed to change that energy. Create a new visual. She imagined herself under the surface of the water, falling deep within herself, looking up at a clear marbled surface from cold, quiet depths, willing the feeling of panic into one of calm concentration. When her mind settled, she directed her thoughts to the object in her hand. Where’s Miles? Please.

  But the glasses stayed cold.

  Clint had instructed her not to ask but demand. She took another breath, recentered her thoughts. Show me what happened to Miles. Take me back to the protest at Hyle Pharmaceuticals. December 24, 2018.

  The metal of the glasses in her hand buzzed with life, buzzed with Miles. She could feel him there somehow, his hand in hers. And then she felt the dreaded familiar pull, the compression of every cell in her body, and she was through a Pilgrim’s Tunnel, emerging outside the headquarters of Hyle Pharmaceuticals.

  It had worked.

  Teddy stumbled as she twisted to avoid a protester. In her peripheral vision, she watched as the limo pulled up, as Whitfield, Dara, and past-Teddy walked into the building. She knew Yates was already there, but she suppressed her instinct to search for him in the crowd. She’d been talking to him at the time Miles had been taken, so he must not have been working alone. She kept her focus on Whitfield’s limo. And there they were, the same couple she’d seen before. In Eli’s apartment, and then in New York City, pulling Marysue from the phone booth. Nilsson and Stanton—now grabbing Miles, who was wearing his canvas satchel strapped across his chest, from the back of the limo and pushing him through the crowd.

  Teddy felt her grip on time slipping. The pressure was back, the intense pull that would send her ricocheting back to present time. She filled her lungs with air and centered her thoughts, determined not to pass out.

  She came back to herself, gasping.

  “Here.” Pyro practically shoved a glass of water at her. “Deep breaths. What did you see?”

  “Miles. With Nilsson and Stanton.” She took a sip as she gathered her thoughts. “So we were right. Eli didn’t do it. The PC has him—and they have the Xantal.”

  The Misfits sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the news. They all knew what had to come next but wanted to put it off as long as possible. Teddy studied the glasses in her hand.

  “It’s better if we know,” Dara said at last.

  Teddy nodded. Reminded herself that no matter what Dara saw, they’d stopped death before. With Molly. There was a chance that they could stop it this time as well.

  She handed the glasses to Dara, reluctant to let go of them, not only for what Dara might reveal but also to hand over what she had left of Miles. She’d known him only a short time, but she felt inextricably bound to h
im. He was cute, of course. But the similarities in their pasts made her feel for him in a way she couldn’t explain.

  Teddy watched as Dara’s eyes rolled back in her head and her fingers tightened around the metal frames. Her mouth formed a tight line, then her lips parted with a sharp gasp. She dropped the glasses as though they were on fire.

  She took a moment to compose herself. “Miles is still alive,” she said. “So is Eli.”

  Pyro said, “But you saw something. Something bad.”

  Dara nodded. “I felt as though I was floating, flying . . . I don’t know how else to describe it. Just aloft. Then there was an explosion—everything lit up, searing hot.” Frowning, she caught her bottom lip and turned to Pyro. “Maybe something to do with your chemicals?”

  “Sounds like it.” He moved to pick up the glasses again.

  “Wait,” Teddy said. “Was this a past vision or a death warning?”

  “That’s the problem. I’m not sure. I think it was a death warning. I got a glimpse of Miles and Eli. They’re hurt but still alive. But something about where they’re being held was familiar.” Dara clutched the glasses in her hand, closed her eyes again. “I recognized the place, like I’d been there before. But there’s this feeling in my chest. This dread.” She shivered and opened her eyes. “Like everything’s telling me not to go.”

  Pyro leaned back in his chair. “Okay. So here’s what we have. Yates was at the demonstration. So were Nilsson and Stanton. They may or may not have been working together—”

  “Oh, they’re working together,” Teddy interrupted.

  “Maybe,” Pyro said. “Perhaps Yates distracted Teddy while the PC took Miles. We know that Eli and Miles are alive and being held someplace where volatile chemicals might also be stored.” He lifted his chin toward Dara. “There may also be an airfield nearby. That means they need space, which rules out the city and immediate vicinity.” He looked around the room. “Anything else?”

  “Earlier, you mentioned heat,” Teddy said. “Was that a reference to an explosion as well?”