The MORE Trilogy

by T. M. Franklin

  “I’m fine, Caleb. Better than I have been in months, actually.”

  He heard her moving around, possibly settling on a bed.

  “We were right about Borré. He can relieve our symptoms.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t either, but I really believe he doesn’t want to keep me here against my will. He wants me to come to him willingly, even if he has to use the people I love to do it.”

  “But what does he want from you?”

  He heard her hesitation, even over the phone.

  “I’ll know more tomorrow,” she said. “After I meet with him, I’ll call you to come get me, okay?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He thought she was going to hang up, but she said, “Trust me, please?”

  Caleb let out a breath and leaned his forehead against the window. “You know I do. Just be careful, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  Caleb hung up and allowed himself a few minutes to worry about his decision before grabbing his backpack and dialing Tiernan.

  “Yeah?”

  “Heard you got a lead.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Thought you could use some backup.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Text me the coordinates, and I’m on my way.” He hung up and chewed on a couple of R-cubes, washing them down with a gulp of water from the bathroom sink. When his phone buzzed, he glanced at Tiernan’s text, shouldered his backpack, and shifted south, the motel room blurring into a mess of orange and brown before vanishing completely.

  “Everything all right?” Emma asked as she closed the hotel room door.

  “Dandy.”

  Emma sighed and climbed up to sit cross-legged on one of the beds. “I know you don’t believe this, but I really do want to help you.”

  Ava couldn’t even bring herself to answer. Instead, she flopped back on her own bed and threw an arm across her eyes.

  After a few minutes, Emma asked, “Are you going to do it?”

  Ava huffed. “I don’t have much choice, do I?” She rolled onto her side and propped her head on her bent arm. “What I don’t get is why? With the resources at his disposal, Borré shouldn’t even need those codes. Not to mention the fact he has a mole in New Elysia.”

  “A mole?” Emma actually looked surprised.

  Ava wasn’t sure if that meant they were wrong about Borré having someone near the Council, or if Emma was merely unaware of it. “So why ask for the codes? Is it just to see what kind of hoops I’ll jump through, because—”

  “It’s not that,” Emma said quietly. “Although Father demands obedience, obviously.”

  “Why, then?”

  Emma chewed on her lip, looking away as she thought about her answer. “It’s a show of faith. Father is big on those. He wants you to cut any ties you have to the Council or to the Guardians. By giving him the codes, you’ll become an enemy to the Race. A Rogue. He wants you to rely on him and him alone. It’s the only way he can be certain of your loyalty.”

  Ava scoffed. “And how does he know I won’t turn on him?”

  “You saw what happens when you do.”

  “Just because I can’t attack him doesn’t mean I have to serve him.”

  “You can’t betray him—”

  “I can do a lot of things.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” Emma said shifting on the bed to face her. “Father will know if you lie.”

  Ava couldn’t resist the opportunity to learn a little more about Borré. “Is that his gift? He’s a human lie detector?”

  “He’s a lot more than that.”

  Ava sighed in frustration. “More than what? What is he?”

  “He’s a genius. A scientist. He created us.”

  “I know that, but he’s Race, right? So what’s his gift? What qualifies him to lead the Rogues, anyway?”

  Emma looked away, and for a moment, Ava doubted she would answer, but she squared her shoulders and turned back, licking her lips before she said quietly, “He uses gifts.”

  Ava blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

  “Like the Twelve, Father can boost our gifts, make us stronger. But he also can access any gift and use it himself,” she said, the words falling over each other as if she wanted to get them out as quickly as possible. “Not against your will—not ours anyway, the Twelve are too strong. Other Race, though, he can use. And if we allow it—”

  Ava digested that for a moment. “So you mean back there at the house, when he hurt me. That was . . . that was you?”

  Emma’s cheeks colored as she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Not me . . . I would never hurt you, Ava. But he used my gift, yes. To supplement the protection around himself.”

  “Protection?”

  “It’s part of our makeup,” Emma said. “It’s not in our design to be able to turn on our creator. If we try to move against him, it’s bad, but he used my gift to make it worse. To make a point.” She swallowed and glanced up before focusing on the carpet. “I’m sorry. I know it’s painful. I know—”

  Ava’s mouth dropped open. “He’s done it to you, too, hasn’t he?” When Emma was silent, Ava shook her head. “But how could you let him? Why would you let him do that to you?”

  “Because I deserved it!” she shouted. “I was stubborn and disobedient, and I put the whole plan at risk!”

  “Emma, no!”

  “Stop,” she said, sliding off the bed and grabbing her coat. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand because you’re new to all this.”

  “Where are you going?”

  She shrugged into her coat. “I’m going to check the perimeter.”

  “Emma, wait.” Ava jumped up and grabbed her arm. “You don’t have to do this. We could fight him. You and me. It doesn’t—”

  “No, I can’t,” Emma said, yanking her arm away. “And neither can you. The sooner you can face that, the better for us all.” She locked eyes with Ava and reached for the doorknob.

  “You should know, Sophie tried to escape,” Emma said, turning to face the door. “She’s being punished, and I can promise you it isn’t pleasant. Not even a little bit.” She looked over her shoulder with tears in her eyes. “That’s what waits for you if you disobey, Ava. That’s what waits for all of us. Can’t you see? None of us has a choice. Not if we want to survive. It’s just the way it is.” She took a deep breath and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind her.

  Ava stared at the wood for a long time before she finally stumbled back to the bed and crawled under the covers. It was even longer before she was able to close her eyes and fall asleep.

  Chapter 13

  Borré’s eyes, so similar to her own, gleamed in the dim light of the room. He sat reclined on a low, tufted settee, his legs crossed, and fingers stroking his lower lip.

  This house was newer, furnished, but still not lived in as far as Ava could tell. They’d left the hotel at the break of dawn and driven a few hundred miles to cross the border into Montana, Emma uncharacteristically quiet as she watched Ava when she didn’t think she was paying attention.

  Ava was paying attention. She just didn’t want to acknowledge her sister, unsure if she should hate her for what she’d done or feel sorry for her. In a lot of ways, Emma was a victim, twisted by Borré’s influence, and a pawn to be used at his whim, and yet, she defended him, loved him, excusing his abuse with heartfelt words and teary eyes. In the end, what choice did she have, really? His hold on her was too great, too strong.

  Borré’s gaze flicked subtly to Emma on the other side of the room in a silent signal.

  His daughter crossed to slip gracefully to her knees on the plush rug at his feet, her nerves only evident through the slight tremble of her fingertips.

  “Have you thought about my offer?” Borré asked with an almost imperceptible arch of his brow.

  His offer—interesting way to put it.

&nbs
p; “You say that like I have other options,” Ava replied, trying to swallow the contempt in her voice.

  “You always have a choice, my dear.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Borré’s lips twitched. “So stubborn,” he said, shaking his head. “But regardless of your protests, I have a feeling you’ve realized the opportunity before you. It is our time, Ava. You can be a part of it. You’re meant to be a part of it.”

  A quiet knock sounded at the door, and Emma jumped up to answer it.

  A man walked into the room, sallow and faded from head to toe—pale red hair, pale skin, pale green eyes—as though the color saturation on his entire body had been turned down a few notches.

  Something about him . . .

  Ava realized he’d been there for the Rogue attack at the Colony, but it was more than that. Not his face, but his presence. Something ominous and dark, like a figure from a—

  “It was you,” she murmured. “You killed him. I saw you in my dream.”

  The man arched a nearly invisible eyebrow but said nothing.

  “What is this?” she demanded, a surge of panic and fear forcing her gift to the surface, as she turned on Borré.

  The table legs thumped on the floor.

  “What’s he doing here?”

  “I see you recognize Mr. Bartok. I suspected as much.” Borré smiled and admired his fingernails. “As for his presence, think of it as a show of good faith.”

  Ava held back her gift but turned her body to put the wall at her back as she kept her eyes focused on the man. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something you should know, something I suspect you already know,” Borré said as he picked a nonexistent piece of lint from his trouser leg. “Your police friend? What was his name . . . Simpson?”

  “Simmons. Nick Simmons.” Saying the name sent a chill down Ava’s spine. She still saw him lying in a pool of blood as if an image from her dream, but, as it turned out, it hadn’t been a dream at all.

  “Simmons. Yes, that’s it exactly.” Borré laid a palm on Emma’s head—almost like a benediction—and she got to her feet and approached Bartok.

  Her pupils dilated, the green swallowed up by darkness, and she stood facing the red-haired man with her head tipped slightly to one side.

  “What’s going on?” Bartok asked, his words beginning to slur.

  “What is going on?” Ava asked, her gift flaring again with her anger, causing the window to rattle. Ava knew what he was feeling. She was very familiar with Emma’s influence. “Stop playing games. What is he doing here, and what is this all about?”

  Borré’s lips quirked. “I’m proposing an exchange.”

  “What kind of exchange?” Ava glanced at Bartok, who was now staring into Emma’s eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly.

  “You stand accused of a crime—”

  “Which I didn’t commit,” Ava said, scowling.

  “No, of course not,” Borré said with a condescending smile. “Anyone could look at you and see you’re no murderer. Sadly, though, the evidence says otherwise.” When Ava opened her mouth to respond, he held up a finger. “True. It was manipulated. My bad, as the kids say these days. However, what’s done is done and all that.”

  “Do you intend to ever get to the point?”

  Borré’s eyes sharpened, his tone grew icy, and for the first time, Ava saw the killer behind the calm façade. “The point, my dear, is that I have something you want, and you have something I want. I believe I have a solution that will prove mutually beneficial.”

  She fought to keep her voice steady. “What solution?”

  “Him,” he replied, with a glance toward Bartok.

  “He’s fighting me,” Emma said quietly, and Ava noticed the tension in Bartok’s shoulders, the clench of his jaw, and the spray of perspiration on his upper lip.

  Borré rose and approached the pair to lay a gentle hand on Emma’s shoulder.

  Immediately, Bartok relaxed, his mouth falling open once again.

  “As I was saying.” Borré turned back to Ava but kept his touch on Emma. “I have the true killer of Officer Simmons, as well as the murder weapon. With the aid of your sister, Mr. Bartok here will surrender to the proper authorities and confess to the crime, effectively clearing your name.”

  “What makes you think I need your help?”

  “You’re trapped, for lack of a better word,” he replied. “You can’t go out into the human world while you’re a wanted fugitive. Human law enforcement may be inept, but it’s not that inept. How long do you think it will take for someone to spot your picture on TV and call in a tip to one of those horrible police reality shows? Then where will you be?

  “I’m offering you freedom,” he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was as simple as that. “Freedom to come and go as you please. Have a life again. Finish school, if that’s what you want. Get a job. Though the appeal of that is lost on me.” His mouth curled in distaste.

  Ava sensed the twinge of Emma’s gift, but it wasn’t targeting her. She wasn’t being influenced. Bartok stood stock-still, however, clearly under her spell. A string of drool hung from the corner of his open mouth, and Ava swallowed, her own mouth dry. “And what do you want in exchange?” she asked, looking away from the spectacle.

  “Oh, I think you know the answer to that question.”

  “Me.”

  “You.”

  “The security codes.”

  “For a start.” Borré smiled, stroking Emma’s head gently. “But even more, for you to take your rightful place at my side. It’s time we all take our rightful places. The Council has made a mess of things for our people. We’re hiding in dark corners instead of taking on the mantle of leadership.”

  “With you at the top, of course.”

  Borré laughed. “It’s not about me, Ava. Can’t you see that? It’s about making the world a better place, not only for me and you, but also for all Race.”

  “And the humans?”

  His jaw twitched, the only hint at his annoyance at the question. “Humans, as a rule, are irrelevant.” Ava stiffened, and he hurried to add, “But they will benefit by this new world order as well. Think about it. If we’re able to share our knowledge without fear, imagine all the good we can do. Diseases will be eradicated. Hunger will be nonexistent.”

  “In return, all you ask is for their loyalty.”

  Surrender.

  He smiled. “A small price to pay.”

  Ava could imagine the price. With Borré in charge, humans would become nothing more than slaves. He would start with big promises, but once he gained control, those promises would crumble, and before they even realized what was happening, the humans would be dependent on him for everything.

  Dependence. The very opposite of freedom.

  But she couldn’t think about that now. Now, she had more immediate concerns—her own freedom, her parents, and Sophie and Isaiah.

  “You really think he’ll confess?” she asked.

  Borré raised a brow and turned to Bartok. “Who killed Officer Nick Simmons?”

  Without hesitation, Bartok replied, “I did.”

  “You will go to Allenmore, to the police department, and confess to the crime.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will describe in detail how you killed Officer Simmons and surrender the knife you used to do it.”

  “Yes, sir.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag.

  It crinkled, and Ava spotted the blade inside. When bits of dried blood broke free of the knife and collected in the bottom of the bag, bile rose in Ava’s throat, but she swallowed it down with determination.

  No time for weakness.

  “You will tell them you are a hypnotist and used your skills to trick the witnesses into their testimony.”

  Ava gave him a skeptical look. “You really think they’re going to buy that?”

  Borré rolled his eyes. “Humans believe what they want to b
elieve. Especially when they’ve been given a little push.” He turned back to Bartok. “Do you understand your mission?”

  “Yes, sir.” He turned toward the door, and Borré stopped him with a word. He looked at Ava, waiting.

  She knew what she had to do. So she took a deep breath and looked her father dead in the eyes. “Done.”

  Emma’s face broke into a wide smile, and she bounced on her toes in excitement.

  Borré simply turned to Bartok and said, “Go.”

  The assassin left the room, and Borré smiled at Ava.

  “Welcome to the family,” he said. “Emma will see you back to Kalispell. I assume you can find your way to New Elysia from there.”

  Ava nodded.

  “Retrieve the codes, contact Emma, and we will rendezvous at our headquarters. Once the codes have been verified, your parents will be released. No harm done.”

  “How do I know they’ll be safe?” she asked.

  “You have my word.”

  “Pardon me if that doesn’t hold much weight at the moment.”

  To her surprise, Borré laughed. “Oh, you’re a lot like me, you know?” He crossed his arms, his fingers plucking at his lip. “So put yourself in my shoes, Ava. I have no reason to harm your parents as long as you are working with me. It’s very simple, isn’t it?” His smile belied the obvious underlying threat in his words. “Don’t cross me, daughter, and Joe and Sarah Michaels will be fine.”

  “How do I know you haven’t already done something to them?” she asked, lifting her chin. “I want to talk to them.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t advise that,” he said, tutting slightly as he waved to Emma.

  She retrieved a small laptop from the kitchen counter and brought it to them.

  “However, I can show you they are absolutely fine at the moment.” He set the laptop on a low table and clicked a few keys before turning the screen to face her.

  Ava blinked in surprise when she recognized the image. “I don’t understand.”

  There were her parents, sitting at the table—her father reading the paper as her mother slathered jelly on toast.

  “That’s our kitchen at home,” Ava murmured.