The Prince's Trap

by Griffith, P. D.

  “Who was it?” Landon demanded.

  “The Prince,” Katie Leigh answered.

  Landon staggered back from the desk in disbelief and fell onto the bed. “Are you serious?” he asked as he stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t know, Landon, but I’m positive it was him.” Katie Leigh fought to make sense of it all as she spoke. “The data signature was the same. In fact, I wonder if we somehow managed to piggyback onto his video feed. I didn’t think Dr. Wells allowed video surveillance to be installed in his office. I think the Prince planted the camera in there.”

  “Who is this guy?” Landon exclaimed in frustration, slamming his arms into the springy mattress with such force his body bounced up and down slightly. “Seriously, who does he work for? If it’s Pallas Corporation, why would he be spying on his own people?”

  “For all we know, he could be working from the outside.” Katie Leigh explained, remaining as composed as she could. “Maybe he’s a rogue agent or something. We still don’t know anything about him. There’s nothing in the system on him. He’s a ghost.”

  She didn’t say it, but Landon knew Katie Leigh believed they needed to meet the Prince. She’d told him before that she thought there was no way he was working for the Pallas Corporation—they might actually be working toward the same goal.

  After he had told Katie Leigh everything he knew about the Pallas Corporation, Landon feared she might be willing to make any number of alliances to take it down. Landon’s big question concerning the Prince was: friend or foe? Did he work for the Pallas Corporation, Metis Labs, or perhaps even as a spy from a different company altogether? If he was working against the Pallas Corporation, could the Prince become their ally and finally give them the advantage they’ve been looking for to succeed on their mission to destroy the company?

  “Ugh!” Landon groaned as he launched himself off the bed. As he paced the room, he tried to figure out what to do next. Who is this Prince? He became more of an enigma as time passed. There was nothing they could dig up about the guy, and each time they made progress they found he was one step ahead of them. Why was he so interested in Project Herakles and Washington Sykes?

  “Landon,” Katie Leigh called out to him, but he was lost in thought. “Landon!” she said louder, breaking his concentration. “What tests were they talking about?”

  “Huh?”

  “Washington and Dr. Wells, they mentioned they’d run some tests on your telekinetic abilities.” Her concern and curiosity were evident. “What tests?” she asked again.

  “I have no idea,” Landon replied, now realizing the same thing she had. They said they had tested his telekinetic lifting ability, but he couldn’t recall any time he’d been singled out for a special evaluation. Dr. Wells had never tested the limits of his skills. “Why would they be testing me?”

  “I don’t know but—” Katie Leigh paused, her eyes still on Landon while her focus went elsewhere. In a whisper, she said, “Shh, someone’s outside . . . in the hallway.”

  Landon froze in place and listened. Katie Leigh was right; someone was in the hallway. Footsteps echoed through the hall. Why would someone wander around at this late hour? he wondered. It was well past curfew, so no one should be in the halls. Suddenly Landon realized it might be someone looking for him—checking on his whereabouts like Katie Leigh said they might. He’d lingered in her room for too long. He needed to sneak out and keep his distance from her for the next few days.

  Katie Leigh stealthily rose from her chair and tiptoed over to him. She whispered so softly in his ear that Landon could just barely make out her words. “When they’re around the corner, you should leave. If they find out you were in here, they’ll suspect us for sure. We’ll talk after the Qualifiers start, but until then, stay away.”

  Landon nodded in agreement and then asked her in a dull whisper, “But what should I do about Celia?”

  He was hoping they would talk about that after he’d finished debriefing her on his mission and interrogation, but unfortunately the conversation hadn’t gotten that far. Now he was leaving her with no clear indication on when they could talk strategy again, and the Qualifiers were only five days away. He’d have to try everything he can think of to wake Celia, and hope something would work.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she replied. “Oh, and the other thing I wanted to say: I don’t have a clue about what happened during your interrogation. I haven’t seen any reports in the system concerning tactometric episodes that sound anything like what you experienced in your interrogation with Washington. But you should talk to Peregrine about it—discreetly. It sounds like something she might be able to help you with.”

  Landon gave her a look of acknowledgement and nodded slightly. It amazed him how Katie Leigh always seemed to have a plan. If she didn’t know the answer, she was instantly contemplating who would have it. Her advice to talk to Peregrine about his potential new splinter skill was spot on. If he had ever imagined what the world looked like to Peregrine, what he experienced when Washington dug into his mind was precisely it. She was his best chance to understand what happened.

  Katie Leigh crept over to the door and pressed her ear against the wood, listening for the person who walked outside. Landon saw her close her eyes. Perhaps she was feeling into the hallway with her abilities. Katie Leigh was much better at Tactometry than Landon, so maybe she could tell who it was. After a few moments, she looked at Landon and beckoned him over to the door with her hand. She was apparently satisfied that the potential spy had gone.

  Katie Leigh turned the knob on her door with such care that there wasn’t a sound as the bolt withdrew and released the door from the frame. Silently inching open the door, she took a quick peek into the hall to confirm that the coast was clear. Once certain, she waved Landon out.

  After Landon slunk out the door and rounded toward the stairs, he looked back just in time to see Katie Leigh mouth “Good luck” to him as she closed her door.

  • • • • •

  Celia looked so peaceful lying between the crisp white sheets of her bed in the medical wing. They reflected the faint light onto her face with a silvery glow, highlighting her features with a pale sheen. She looked like a fairytale character—Snow White or Sleeping Beauty—trapped in an endless slumber, waiting for her prince to set her free. Landon sat in a chair beside her; he was not her prince, but he longed to wake her all the same.

  The hallways were abandoned, the staff had retreated to their own beds, but Landon sat awake in the darkness. The stillness of the room made the back of his neck tingle, but he made himself stay until his visit seemed appropriate.

  When he reached his room on the fourth floor after gingerly descending the stairs from Katie Leigh’s room, his desire to wake Celia stopped him from opening his door. He knew he needed to just go into his room; he could hear Katie Leigh’s voice in the back of his head telling him it was in their best interests to lie low and not draw any unwanted attention, especially after his reckless last words with Washington.

  Not only that, but Brock could be awake in there, growing more suspicious of his missing roommate with every passing moment, and Landon would do well to not be found wandering the hallways in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t help his situation.

  But the thought of Celia alone in her room in the medical wing called Landon to her. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or loneliness that made him withdraw his hand mere centimeters from the doorknob, but Landon had to go to her.

  His visits had grown more infrequent with each week, and he hadn’t checked on her in days. Yet now he was there, showing his dedication to her and wishing she was awake and able to talk. It was just him, Celia and the silence. Katie Leigh was a great confidant and Riley was the perfect person to make him feel like a normal teenager—Landon wanted to be around Riley
when he just wanted to get some reprieve from his responsibilities and have a good time—but Celia, although overbearing at times, was his most trusted friend. He couldn’t believe how much he missed her. He could feel her absence all the time, like a phantom calling to him but who was never there. They shared a connection unlike that of anyone else he knew. They could talk to each other and experience the other’s dreams; they’d shared memories. She trusted him with information that could incriminate her and destroy her. She had trusted him enough to tell him, and he trusted her enough not to give her up.

  “You were right all along,” Landon said to her softly, holding her hand in his. “They are planning things—scheming, as you say. Everything they say is just another lie. I will find out what they’re doing.” Landon could feel himself growing stronger as he spoke to her. “But I need your help. I need you. I need you . . . with me. You’re much better at all this than I am.” He didn’t know where it came from, but his eyes started to water. “I may have ruined it all today, but I’m going to fix it. I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to find a way to wake you up, and then we can go ahead with your plan. You’ll win the Qualifiers, join the Pantheon, and then we can do it together.”

  She showed no sign of being able to hear him. Her eyes didn’t flicker, her face didn’t move, her hand didn’t suddenly clench his. She remained still, lost in a sea of dreams. If it weren’t for the movement of her chest as she breathed, Landon would have thought she had left him.

  “You’re going to be awake . . . soon.” he said, setting her hand down gently on top of the sheets and turning away. As he headed out of the room, Landon wiped the tears from his eyes with his forearm, deciding to return to his room and get some sleep. He’d need a clear head to figure out what he had to do before the clock leading up to the Qualifiers struck zero. He’d have to work quickly if he was going to succeed.

  He had five days—five short, stressful days—to wake Celia Jackson.

  And the clock was ticking.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  TRAPPED

  Landon leapt over a barrel while ducking to narrowly dodge a flying disc that was aimed at his head. It zoomed past, brushing his hair, and collided with the obstacle behind him with a ding. He was the fourth to run the obstacles during their team-training day in the Palaestra, and the course seemed to become longer and more complicated every time they did it. Staying light on his feet and darting left and right, Landon managed to clear the hurdles without any major problems. The training exercise was extremely difficult to complete unscathed, but also a lot of fun. The other Pantheon members laughed and cheered on their teammates while spectating from a safe distance. Objects like balls and training discs were perpetually launched into the obstacle area, simulating a scenario of being under fire. If he got pelted by even a slow-moving ball, he’d be done and have to run the course again.

  As it stood now, Brock and Cortland had cleared the course, and Joshua sat against the backlit white wall with a pack of ice against his forehead. After a spectacular roll to miss a wave of paintballs, he misjudged his surroundings and collided with a post, knocking himself out. They dragged him off the course and made sure he was okay. While Dr. Brighton checked Joshua’s vitals, Landon noticed Jeremiah rubbing his forehead with a pained grimace on his face. He looked only slightly better than his brother.

  Landon started the course distracted. It was already Saturday, and he hadn’t gotten anywhere in his attempts to wake Celia. His visits had become more frequent; at least twice a day he checked in on her and tried something new to wake her. He’d attempted to reach into her mind, grappling her head with his hand as Washington had done to him in the interrogation, but Landon had no idea what he was doing; he had even resorted to shaking her violently to see if he could vibrate her into a lucid state. It didn’t work.

  He pushed his fears that he wouldn’t wake Celia in time for the Qualifiers into the deep recesses of his mind, but with the trials set to begin in less than two days, it was proving a bit difficult. He was normally good at compartmentalizing his feelings and focusing on the task at hand, but his anxiety was getting the better of him. Not to mention, he hadn’t spoken to Katie Leigh or Riley in days. He tried to spend his time with Cortland or Peregrine, particularly during meals.

  It was common knowledge that Katie Leigh, Riley and Landon sat together at breakfast, lunch and dinner. The first time Landon went into the cafeteria and sat apart from them, two days ago, it took only seconds before Cortland came up to him wondering what was wrong.

  • • • • •

  “Why aren’t you sitting with your crew?” he asked, seemingly perplexed. “It wasn’t the interrogation, was it?”

  Landon looked up at him, alarmed. Why would Cortland talk about the sessions with Washington so nonchalantly in public? Wasn’t that extremely confidential? Were they even allowed to talk about them?

  “Don’t worry,” he said after registering Landon’s concern. “No one is listening to us. They’re all too consumed in their own worlds to even bother paying attention to us.”

  Landon looked around to confirm this, but before he could decide whether the people around them were truly not paying attention, Cortland urged, “Come on, sit with me and the guys. It doesn’t do well for someone like you to be sitting alone. You’re one of us. . . . And it’s depressing.”

  Landon grudgingly agreed, rising from the bench and grabbing his tray of food to follow Cortland to his usual table. He couldn’t tell Cortland that he was so nervous about what was going to happen over the next few days that he could barely eat his food. Not only did he need to wake Celia from her coma, but he had to worry constantly about whether or not he was being watched by Washington, and whether anything he did might be taken as suspect. Landon could barely even sleep; he had suffered through two restless nights, unable to put his worries aside.

  He sat down beside Jeremiah, who busily slurped down a massive bowl of frosted corn flakes and milk. The only acknowledgement of his new tablemate was a half-smile as milk dribbled down his chin.

  “So can you believe there’s a mole in the Pantheon?” Cortland asked in a low voice as he took his seat across the table. “Who do you think it is?”

  Is this what they did at their table? Landon wondered. Do they discuss Pantheon business? He contemplated whether he needed to make it a point to join them more often.

  “I don’t know,” Joshua said after gulping down a sizeable mouthful of breakfast sausage. “I just hope it’s not one of us.”

  “Well, it can’t be me or Landon,” Cortland remarked. “Washington interrogated me yesterday, and him the day before. We wouldn’t be sitting here if it was either of us.”

  Landon remained silent, deciding it best to let them talk. He could feel the pangs of anxiety registering in his stomach, making him mildly nauseated, and he didn’t want to let anything slip that might turn the focus back on him as a possible suspect. On top of that, even the idea of breaching the subject of his session with Washington was frightening.

  “Yeah, he questioned Joshua and me yesterday, too,” Jeremiah garbled as he tried to keep his milk and cereal contained in his mouth.

  Brock sat at the head of the table and did not participate in the discussion. He wore a contemplative look and kept glancing over at Landon while everyone joked and talked. Landon wondered whether Brock was upset because Landon had the nerve to sit with them at their table, or if Katie Leigh was right, and he was watching him for any suspicious behavior.

  “What do you think the mole is doing?” Jeremiah asked once he’d finally polished off his bowl of cereal and wiped the excess milk off his chin. “I mean, we’re the good guys.”

  At that moment, all Landon wanted to do was tell them what he knew. It was sickening to him that the Gymnasium could exploit such talented but innocent people. Celia had told him that only the upper e
chelons of the company’s personnel knew the real truth about the Pallas Corporation and their seedy dealings, so everyone else, like Jeremiah, assumed they were working to protect the nation and its interests. What would they do if they knew the truth? he thought. How dangerous would it be for them?

  “The good guy is a matter of perspective,” Brock interjected commandingly. “Do you think Metis Labs or Nitranos Industries believe they’re the enemy? I don’t think so. To them, we’re the bad guys. All I know is that this mole better watch their back, and if they’re on this team,” Brock shot Landon a piercing look, “they won’t be happy when I get my hands on them.”

  Landon choked down a bite of eggs. After that, he quickly devoured his food, deciding it was best to get away from the table and the cafeteria rather than test the waters with his teammates. They would be running the obstacle course in just a few days anyway, so for the time being he wanted to focus on Celia, and maybe ask Peregrine about his tactometric experience during the interrogation.

  “Where is Peregrine?” Landon asked as he finished the last of his pancakes and started to get up, grabbing his tray in preparation.

  “You don’t know?” Cortland asked, sounding surprised. “She’s with Washington right now. He had a scientist wake her up before dawn, and she’s been in there since. I imagine we won’t see her until lunch at least.”

  Landon wondered what Washington would find when interrogating Peregrine. She was such a mystery to everyone. No one knew anything about her past: where she came from, what her family was like, whether she had any brothers or sisters. She was a complex riddle with the truth hidden somewhere under her serene and wise exterior.

  “They’ve got to clear Echo,” Joshua interjected confidently. Landon had noticed his growing fondness for Peregrine over the past few months. He thought Joshua was delusional to think something could happen between them.