by W. J. May
She moved at a glacial pace, taking great personal pride in the fact that she alone—the great keeper of the keys—had the ability to make Rae wait.
I wonder what kind of tatù she has anyway. What sort of ink gets you banished to the card catalogue?
As if reading Rae’s mind, Janice flashed her a sideways look as her fingers flew over the keyboard, firing up her computer. “I’m a shapeshifter, you know. Can take any form I please.”
And she settled on that one? That’s it, the second I’m president again I’m requiring that every PC employee submits to psychological testing.
Rae turned offered her a polite smile, trying not to act as on edge as she felt. “That’s incredible. A lot better than mine.”
The woman peered down over the tops of her spectacles, staring as though Rae might turn out to be something rather nice to eat. “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”
Rae lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug. “Botany. Limited power over certain kinds of plants and things. Not very practical.”
For a second, she was terrified that Janice was going to ask to see it. But her plan had worked. The woman turned out to be as bored by the conversation as she was herself. The computer sprang to life and her fingers hovered over the keys, eager to move on. “What are you looking at today?”
Rae frowned slightly, as if trying to remember her exact marching orders. “General census information. Going back the last ten years.”
Normally, a decade’s worth of material would mean a hell of a lot of reading. But, fortunately, there was really only one name that she needed to see.
Janice raised her eyebrows, but nodded. The computer made a beep, and across the room a locked door clicked open. “Follow me.”
Leaving the rest of the room behind, Rae shadowed the waddling receptionist to the far corner of the library to what looked like little more than a bulk storage room, despite the heavy lock. It would only take Rae another second to figure out why.
“Are there active personal files in here as well?” she asked in surprise. A sudden burst of hope widened her eyes as she gazed up and down the endless stacks of paper. Samantha might have been able to erase her from people’s minds, but that didn’t mean that she could erase her on paper. Rae Kerrigan was still in here somewhere. On hard copy.
If I can just find the right file—
“Nope,” Janice croaked, “just retired ones. People who have been out of the game for a minimum of ten years.” Her eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. “So, don’t be getting any funny ideas. The last thing I need is another prankster trying to dig up dirt on one of their friends.”
Well, there’s goes that idea.
Rae lifted her hands innocently, and pointed to a stack of boxes labeled ‘census.’
Janice rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she headed back outside. “Would you look at that? The girl can read.”
The door slammed shut.
Rae blinked at it for a moment before heaving the boxes up onto the table and settling down to read. “Well, she’s a delight…”
Despite knowing the exact name she was searching for, the hunt for Samantha Neilson ended up taking a lot longer than Rae had counted on. Three hours later every inch of the table was covered inches deep in files, but she had yet to make any notable progress. Whoever was actually responsible for organizing the papers had done a downright terrible job, and Rae was making another mental note for disciplinary action when a random scribble caught her eye.
Rejected Applicants
It had been scrawled in hasty marker and stuck onto a small pile of folders that Rae had yet to read. She picked up the first one tentatively, unsure as to what she might find.
Are we talking, rejected from the PC? Or rejected from Guilder?
It only took her a second to realize. It was both.
“Holy freakin’ hot cakes.”
She froze in place the second she flipped open the first cover. The picture of a young boy stared back at her, and time came to an abrupt standstill as she started to read.
All the files were the same. They all told the same sort of story.
A kid lives in general isolation for the beginning of their life. A fate that wasn’t so uncommon amongst children whose parents knew they were going to receive ink. But these were no ordinary prospective students. In fact, they were no ordinary children at all.
Arson, assault, theft, abuse. The list went on and on, reading like some never-ending rap sheet. Every bad road a youngster could travel down, these kids all took at a run.
Notated on the sides of each of their folders were hand-written comments. A general recommendation, based on what Rae could only assume was routine covert surveillance.
‘Set fire to fourth grade classroom—eleven minor injuries.’
‘October 18–tried to drown neighbor’s cat.’
‘Boasted in supermarket how father had super powers. Vowed to come back one day and prove it. Resisted standard security. Had to send in Carl.’
Having grown up with her uncle in New York, Rae had no idea that she belonged to a secret society until she actually set foot on the Guilder campus for the first time. She had no idea that tatùs were real, had no context or parental prep the way that most of her friends did by the time they got to school. As a result, on several occasions since she’d found herself a bit behind.
This was definitely one of those times…
She knew that some parents broke the rules and told their children about what was going to happen to them ahead of time. Paved the way so it wasn’t such a shock. She even knew that, as a whole, inked kids tended to be a bit more high-strung than your average adolescent.
But this…? She would never have imagined anything like this.
The Council actually had kids watched before they received an invitation to come and study at Guilder? Their attendance was based on agent recommendation? Just having ink wasn’t enough?
These were the kinds of things that Carter was supposed to tell her. These were the sorts of things that she was supposed to have received in a briefing before assuming the office of president.
But there had never been an election quite like hers and, needless to say, in the wake of Cromfield and the factory—the Council had more important things on their mind.
Who the hell is Carl? she wondered, bending over a file with a frown. That doesn’t sound good.
A second later, the question drifted forever out of her mind as she spotted a name at the bottom of the pile. A name that had begun to haunt her every waking hour.
A victorious glint flashed in her eyes, and she picked it up with a small smile.
“Gotcha.”
Chapter 10
The life and times of Samantha Neilson was not a happy tale.
What had started as a tragic childhood grew into an even more tragic adolescence until, on her sixteenth birthday, the girl vanished entirely off the map.
But there’s more between the lines…there has to be.
After placing a precautionary chair beneath the doorknob to ensure that Janice wouldn’t come bursting back in, Rae perched in the center of the table and started to read…
May 14th – Subject shows a clear aversion to authority, and refuses to socialize with those her age. When taunted on the playground, she pushed the child responsible into oncoming traffic. Two broken legs, no charges filed. Complete lack of remorse.
Stapled beneath the account was a teacher’s summary. Police report. Elementary school grades. Unwitting testimonials from neighbors and case workers.
From the looks of things, Samantha had been under surveillance for a long time. It wasn’t too surprising, given her father’s past.
October 21st – Although only ten years of age, subject already shows certain supernatural precursors consistent with that of her hybrid condition. The mix of her father’s telepathy and her mother’s power to persuade is proving a most potent combination. Requesting extended assignment for further study.
July 29th – Condition worsening. Possible early onset of powers. The chemical tampering conducted in experimentation by Simon Kerrigan on subject’s parents likely to be the cause. Today, subject approached woman on street and requested her wallet. The woman handed it over without hesitation. This is the fifth such documented act in less than a week. More conclusive evidence required. Awaiting further instructions.
Chemical tampering? That had to mean the pills Simon forced them to take. Rae had seen flashes of it in his memories. In theory, it was supposed to enhance their powers. In actuality, the higher the dosage the more likely it was to kill them.
Echoes of Elias’ tortured screams rang through her mind as she turned the page. She remembered seeing him bleeding on the floor…
December 2nd – Request immediate termination of assignment. Subject has been determined a danger to both herself and others. Is current focus of a homicide investigation involving the death of her aunt. Unfit for admittance to Guilder, recommend Unit-5 strike team to take into custody. Awaiting further instructions. Please advise.
Rae looked down in horror at the final date. It was the day after she had discovered her father in Cromfield’s factory. A few hours later Samantha’s aunt was dead, the house she’d grown up in had mysteriously burned down, and she’d vanished completely off the grid.
No further entries were ever made.
“So, that’s what did it…that’s what set her off…”
Here was a child who never had a hope of a future. Whose life sentence was handed out long before she was even born…by Simon Kerrigan.
It was no wonder that she’d hero-worshiped Rae’s ability to pull herself out of the shadow of his legacy. It was no wonder she snapped when Rae was seen to be protecting him later on.
It was no wonder she couldn’t bring herself to forgive Rae now.
You never even stood a chance, did you?
A sudden knocking on the door startled Rae back to the present. A second later, it was followed by the guttural snap of Janice’s voice.
“Are you about finished in there? Why is this door locked?!”
Papers went flying as Rae jumped back down to the floor. She stuffed them haphazardly into boxes as the door behind her shook threateningly under the receptionist’s heavy hand.
“Yep! I’m all finished. Just…just give me a second! Sorry, I was moving things. Must have put a file or something in front of the door.”
Lids smashed back onto cartons, boxes were shoved together in a line. At this point, Rae’s only hope was that she was in a different country by the time Janice actually opened one of them up and saw the mayhem inside. Not exactly the reorganization she’d been promised.
Samantha’s file was slipped secretly into her purse, along with the rest of those children deemed ‘unsuitable.’ At some point in the not-too distant future, she was going to demand an explanation. She was going to find out what other children were under preemptive surveillance, and which ones had already slipped through the cracks. She wanted to be ready when she did.
She had almost made it back to the door when a stray file caught her eye. It had slipped under a nearby bookshelf amidst her frantic efforts, and had almost gone completely unnoticed.
J. Decker
Rae’s mouth dropped open as she scrambled down onto all fours to grab it. She couldn’t believe her luck! Of all the random names to have stumbled upon!
And Janice said there were no active case files…
With a triumphant smirk, she stuffed those papers into her bag as well and strutted forward to pull back the chair that was blocking the door. It slammed open the second she did, revealing a red-faced Janice with her fist still raised mid-air to pound on it some more.
Rae ignored her furious huffing, and slipped past her with a cool smile. “Thanks for all the help, Jan! You’ve been a lifesaver!”
Before anyone could stop her, she was off.
Breezing through the heated library, filled to the brim with bored, glassy-eyed agents. Through the bustling Oratory with its lightning bolts and flames. Out into the crisp winter air.
There was a spring in her step, and a newfound determination sparkling deep in her blue eyes. Not only had she uncovered Samantha’s motivations, not only had she outwitted the lethal Janice, but she had found the one thing she’d gone to Guilder looking for.
It was on the last paper in the folder. Stamped across the bottom of the page.
An address. Elias’ last known address. The house where he’d died.
It had been written off. Added as an afterthought. Samantha hadn’t lived there in years. Not since his suicide. She’d been staying with her aunt. But Rae had been through enough tragedy herself to know the significance of a childhood home. She’d visited her own just a few weeks ago. Even in disrepair, the place held a certain power over her. A symbolism that hadn’t diminished over the years.
There wasn’t the slightest doubt in her mind that Samantha felt it, too. After all, the girl was sixteen… with no guardian, no job, and no money. That left her just one real option.
To go home.
Well, you came to my house. Allow me to return the favor.
* * *
The mission was over. The whole thing had been a massive success. And now, armed with a stack of illegal files stuffed secretly into her purse, Rae was rather eager to leave the school behind.
The place was crawling with people she knew, even if they didn’t exactly know her. It was only a matter of time before something went sideways, and she ran into the wrong—
“Devon!”
It was like someone poured a glass of ice water down Rae’s back. She froze dead still. Hardly daring to turn around. Hardly daring to move, lest the very ground give way beneath her feet. But for one of the first times in recent history, she wasn’t the one trying to get her fiancé’s attention.
It was his father.
Only through years of constant training was she able to break through the paralysis and move. And just in the nick of time. No sooner had she ducked behind the corner of the science building than she saw Devon walking up the path that led to the Oratory.
There was a troubled set to his handsome face. A glassy-eyed aloofness he sometimes got when he lost himself completely to his thoughts. He heard the call, however, and paused at the same time that she did—turning around to see his father rushing towards him.
It wasn’t often that you saw Tristan Wardell rush anywhere. The man was as refined as they come, and given the fact that he was dean of the school things at Guilder pretty much ran on his time table. That being said, he rushed now. Jogging briskly to catch up with his son—who, in his distraction, hadn’t even noticed him.
Devon pulled out his earphones with a look of surprise. “Dad?”
His alarm was understandable. As far as Rae knew, the two of them hadn’t spoken in almost a year. Not since Tristan had publicly disowned him for refusing to give up his relationship with Rae. After disowning him, he’d decided to evict him from the school for good measure.
Things had been tense before that, of course. The entire father-son relationship was a house of cards. A precarious stack of ill-fitting emotions, balanced with years of neglect. Just waiting for a catalyst to push it over the edge once and for all.
Rae had proven to be that catalyst.
In time Tristan had come to regret his decision, even going so far as to give them his blessing. After all, his intentions had always been good. Unbeknownst to the children, his relationship with the Kerrigan family went back a long way. He and her father had been like brothers, and of all the people in the world he alone knew what Simon was really capable of. By trying to keep his son away from Simon’s daughter, he thought he was prote
cting Devon. Giving him a chance at the kind of unblemished future he never had.
It was actually rather a sweet sentiment, even if the execution left much to be desired. But while Rae was more than happy to mend fences, Devon was less willing to forgive.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.” He flashed Devon a warm smile. “Does something have to be wrong for the two of us to catch up?”
Rae’s mouth dropped open in shock as he threw an arm around his son’s shoulders in a brief embrace. It dropped even wider when Devon did nothing to pull away.
“Sorry,” Devon bowed his head quickly, turning off the music on his phone, “I guess I’ve been a little distracted. I meant to call you back—”
“Couldn’t matter less,” Tristan interrupted smoothly. His piercing eyes swept him up and down, making a quick study as the smile fixed casually on his face. “So how have you been?”
Devon gazed back at him for a moment before his face hardened infinitesimally. “Julian called you, didn’t he?”
Tristan let out a soft sigh. “Dev—”
But Devon pulled away, rounding on his father in frustration. “He did. I can’t believe it.”
The two of them stood toe to toe, looking remarkably similar in the afternoon light.
“Give him a break,” Tristan replied with everlasting patience. “He’s worried about you. We all are, for that matter. You know, it wouldn’t hurt you to—”
“And that gives the two of you the right to go colluding behind my back?!”
There was a split-second pause, then Tristan threw back his head with a burst of sparkling laughter. So light, so unrestrained, so very much like his son. Rae stared in shock. She had never seen the man laugh before. To be honest, she didn’t think he was capable.
“Colluding?” he repeated with a twinkling smile. “Someone’s feeling a little theatrical today.”
Even Devon had to concede the point. He dropped his head with a rueful grin, giving his father a playful shove in the arm. “Shut up, you know what I mean.”
