Search (SEEK Book 1)

by Candie Leigh Campbell

  It feels so wrong and out of place in this backdrop of Americana that I drop the napkin in my plate and hop to my feet. “We should go.”

  Without question Jonathan lets go of his fork, pulling out a couple of bills and tossing them on the table.

  “You don’t have to pay for everything,” I say.

  “Did you want me to wait while you go get your purse?” he asks earnestly.

  “Give me the keys.” I snap my fingers, holding out my hand.

  Jonathan hands them to me hesitantly and I march off.

  “Hey, what’s up? Did you see someone?” Jonathan asks, catching up beside me.

  “No, I just want to get out of here.” I wrench open the car door, starting the engine and throwing the rig in gear before Jonathan’s even in the car.

  Wisely, Jonathan doesn’t argue. He just buckles his seatbelt and grabs the handle above the door.

  “Don’t be reckless, Keira. It’s okay,” a voice chimes in my head.

  “Irkalla? Where are you?”I answer back, but she’s gone again, like she was even there to begin with.

  “What’s wrong?” Jonathan asks when the car just idles in place.

  “I think I’m going crazy.” I lean my head on the steering wheel. “I keep hearing voices in my head. Well, just one voice really. At first I thought it was Irkalla, but Irkalla would answer me when I talked to her right?”

  The rustle of Jonathan shifting in his seat uncomfortably answers my question.

  “Great,” I mumble.

  “No, it’s not that you’re crazy, but Irkalla and Mayet are still in Kentucky. You have to rub your mark to call her, otherwise she can’t hear you, and I seriously doubt that you could hear her. I’m not an expert in Khayal communications, but I can only hear Mayet when she’s right next to me.”

  “In any case, I started hearing this voice before I even met you, so I’m pretty sure I’m just crazy.” I glance at him.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. It started in the hotel room right after I checked in.”

  “That couldn’t have been Irkalla; you hadn’t even made the bond yet,” Jonathan points out.

  “God, you’re right.” I hide my face in my hands.

  “You’re not crazy. I’ve heard of a few people who had extra abilities when it came to their Khayal. Maybe you’re one of them,” Jonathan adds.

  I peek at him. He nods.

  Feeling slightly better, I ease the rig onto the highway, keeping an eye out for horses. “Abilities to do what?”

  “I don’t know. Episteme kept it very hush-hush.”

  I tug the strap of the bonnet, feeling strangled by its confinement. “I hope you’re right. I can’t afford to lose my mind yet.”

  ***

  The next leg of our journey is easier, almost peaceful. Jonathan hasn’t shut-up for over an hour, but I find his jokes and endless babble relaxing. I listen, nodding at the appropriate times, until we merge into New York’s metropolis and slowly approach Brookhaven Airport.

  “Once I knew that Episteme was collaborating with Kistall, I knew Mayet was in trouble. I had to find a way out. I had Mayet feed them some bad Intel—I felt terrible using her that way, but I had to do it.”

  “How do they pass Intel exactly? I haven’t been able to work that one out.”

  “It’s cruel really. It has to do with the Khayal’s need to save humanity. But what Episteme does is trick them and use them. Episteme instructs their handlers to think about certain locations—where something is going down that they want to know about—and we tell the Khayal that there are sick and dying people there, only there isn’t.”

  “How does that help anything?” I shrug.

  “The Khayal have one consciousness.”

  I shake my head, trying to understand what that even means.

  “Well, Mayet is Bonded to me, right? So I’d think about a group of people at a particular address that needed help. Immediately, the Unbonded Khayal would hear her thoughts and flock to that location. It confuses them of course because they can sense no pain or despair, but they go anyway on Mayet’s word. And, as they’re searching for these lost souls, Mayet is relaying back to me the words that the Unbonded’s are thinking, which essentially is a play-by-play of what’s happening at the location. And that is what the Episteme Brotherhood is looking for.”

  “Oh my God! That is outrageously sneaky,” I gasp.

  “I know, and cruel. Taking advantage of angelic creatures who are trying to save us…”

  In mid-sentence he stops talking, holds up a finger and pulls a cell out of his pocket, glances at it, and answers in Spanish. The only words I understand after hello and thank you are Challenger 300, hangar number four and a clearance code he rattles out by heart, only because he says them in English.

  “The plane’s ready. Take the turnpike, but make a loop around the runways before you stop the car. Look for anyone who might not belong or anything suspicious.”

  That’s the most serious I’ve seen him.

  I grip the steering wheel with both hands and turn into the airport’s entrance, studying every vehicle in sight. If SEEK is here, they’re doing a great job hiding.

  “It’s all clear,” I announce when I complete the route and return to the same three-sided intersection.

  We make half the loop around again and Jonathan points at the turn off to the hangars. The car creeps along at the posted ten miles per hour limit. I keep one hand on the handgun wedged between the seat and console. I slow the rig to a stop in front of a gray bay door with a giant number four painted on it. My heart pounds. There could be anyone in there. It could be the ambush SEEK’s been planning. The engine idols.

  Jonathan reaches across me and honks the horn.

  I hold my breath.

  The bay door opens. Parked next to a limo, a sleek white Learjet slowly comes into view. I glance at Jonathan for the okay. His jaw muscles relax as he nods, pointing for me to park beside the long gray towncar.

  In front of a metal shelving unit filled with tiny red bottles and greasy towels, I cut the engine and exhale long and slow. “Right at this moment, that is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” I say, staring out the driver’s side window appreciatively.

  Jonathan opens his door and pauses. “We’re not free yet. Come one, the crew will take care of our bags.”

  He climbs out of the car. I grab my gun and try to tuck it in my back, but realize there’s no where to put it. I stuff it in the pocket of the pinafore instead. It bounces awkwardly against my thigh. I follow Jonathan toward a tall man with a handlebar mustache waiting by the plane.

  “Roberto, it’s nice to see you again.”

  “Señor Steed, your plane is ready,” he returns warmly.

  Jonathan clutches my back. “Roberto, this is Keira Donovan, my new partner.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Donavan.” Roberto says in perfect English. Then he rattles off something in Spanish with a slight bow.

  Jonathan nods and steers me up the rubber-coated metal steps. My breath catches at the first glimpse of elegant interior. Eight creamy recliners line the softly lit cabin. Two rows of imbedded lights run the length of the pale leather ceiling. It feels like a dream: the kind where only movie stars and royalty belong. I think the term is posh.

  “Have a seat. I’ll be right back,” Jonathan says, gesturing to a squishy recliner in the middle of the cozy seating arrangement.

  Glancing from the plush ivory carpet, expensive-looking swivel captain’s chairs and shiny mahogany tables, I’m awed to the point of panic. “Where are you going?” I grab Jonathan’s arm.

  “I have to give the pilots our destination. I didn’t want it compromised.” He pats my hand and disappears into the cockpit.

  I turn back to the empty room, running a finger along a glossy table and catch a glimpse of the hangar door opening again. I jump into a chair as a low whir quickly turns into a growl. The engines awake. The cabin gently rumbles beneath m
y feet. Rubbing my sweaty hands together I stare blurry-eyed out the tiny window, fumbling to latch my seatbelt before the plane clears the hangar.

  With a click and tug I’m strapped to the chair. My breaths come faster as we approach the tarmac. “Where is Jonathan?” I close my eyes, clenching the seat cushion.

  Every time I’ve flown in the past, it’s been surrounded by daunting conditions. I’ve taken dozens of trips, flown from coast to coast in search of a doctor with a different prognosis for Lindy. Hours trapped in a coach with my weeping parents and a melancholy sister.

  My eyes pop open wide as the jet lurches forward. I peer through the tiny window, relieved at least that there are no sirens or flashing lights. We taxi past the airport. I scope out each baggage handler as the carts buzz from bay to bay. None of them so-much-as glance our direction. Still, my stomach feels tethered to an anchor, sinking deep beneath the surface. The tiny cluster of runways is packed with other planes waiting for takeoff. Another jet soars into the air. I cringe.

  “Relax. I have excellent pilots.” Jonathan’s easy tone sneaks up behind me.

  Escape

  “Oomph!” The grunt is involuntary like my body trying to leap up, only to have the lap-belt dig into my hips with such force I’m sure I’ll bruise.

  “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in.”

  “Normally I would’ve. I don’t like flying,” I mutter, wringing my hands.

  And then we’re zooming down the runway. I squeeze my eyes tight, pressing my lips together. The plane pitches into the sky, tipping me sideways. I squeeze tighter.

  “I can see that,” Jonathan’s voice says from a million miles away.

  “Don’t laugh.” I choke on my words as the plane shutters.

  “It’s just turbulence. It’ll pass in a minute. You can open your eyes.”

  He’s right. A moment later the room doesn’t feel like I’m riding a missile anymore. I peek one eye at Jonathan; calm and comfortable in his luxurious plane, fiddling with a button on his stately recliner.

  Within seconds, a pretty woman appears in the doorway in the rear of the jet.

  “Keira, this is my assistant, Janet,” he says proudly, as though she’s someone to brag about.

  Unfortunately, she is. I glance up the length of her—all six feet—kitten heels, perfectly molded pencil skirt, white blouse unbuttoned to her navel, and blonde waves resting neatly on her shoulders. I hate her immediately.

  “Hey,” I grunt, straightening the hem of this idiotic pinafore.

  “Nice to meet you,” she says, her long false lashes fluttering at me.

  I nod, turning to the window. Off the tip of the wing a layer of paw-print clouds dot the sky as the sun sinks low on the horizon. If I don’t think about the fact that I’m locked inside a fiberglass tube hurtling through the air, the flying part is almost relaxing.

  “We’ll take our meals now. You’re hungry, Keira?”

  “Hmmm?” I stir from the daydream.

  “Ready for dinner?” Jonathan asks.

  “Sure.” My stomach gurgles emptily at the mention of food.

  “Right away,” Janet gushes, batting her eyelashes at Jonathan without even acknowledging my presence.

  I watch her strut gracefully back to the door. A twinge of jealousy I’ve never known before burns in my chest.

  “And get me Paul’s new address, please,” Jonathan adds.

  Janet nods. “Of course.”

  “Paul?” I ask, shaking off my feelings of invisibility.

  “Paul used to be in the Brotherhood but now he’s in hiding. I’ve tracked him to Shrewsbury.”

  Jonathan kicks his boots off, which still have traces of red mud around the soles, and tips his recliner back a notch. “Paul’s got more insider knowledge than I do. He can help us.”

  As Jonathan’s making himself comfortable one thing becomes painfully clear, he belongs in this lavish setting. I do not. Even in his funny, ill-fitting peasant pants and puffy shirt he looks at home. I, on the other hand, look like a child lost in his aristocratic lifestyle.

  “If Janet can find him, he can’t be doing a very good job of hiding,” I say, scooting to the edge of my seat so my feet reach the floor.

  Jonathan lets out a rich laugh. “I’m going to tell you something. Something I’ve never told anyone else.”

  “Why?” I crinkle my lip.

  Confusion blinks in his eyes. “Because we’re partners.”

  He says the word partners like it’s something we’ve already agreed upon. I sigh, sinking deeper into the chair. My world just keeps pressing against me from all sides, until there isn’t enough room in it for anyone else. “Look, Jonathan, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but you saw what happen to Cord, my last partner. I think it’s better if we, ya know, split up.”

  “Keira, don’t you get it? I think we’re meant to do this—expose Kistall, expose Episteme, out them all—together. That’s why the Khayal paired us.”

  It’s hard not to believe him. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be alone. Then I remember Janet in the other room—ready to pounce at the first chance—and how chummy he is with his pilots. This guy is likable, good-looking and rich—no way is he ever going to be alone.

  Then why does he want someone suspicious, paranoid, moody and well…like me, around? I stare at him, deciding there must be something wrong with him. “I don’t think the Khayal paired us up together. I think Kistall did by accident. There’s no deeper meaning.”

  Jonathan watches me, all the while smiling politely, and nods as though I’ve suggested getting ice cream. “Ah, thanks but no thanks, huh? Tell you what. Let’s go talk to Paul and if you’re still not convinced, I’ll have my pilot take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “Anywhere?” All of my self-imposed determination circles the cabin, like a mosquito looking for a place to land. “All I have to do is hear this guy out and you’ll loan me your plane?”

  “Yep.” He smiles confidently.

  “Can I make a roundtrip?”

  “Sure.”

  I could get Lindy and my family. “Okay, I’ll go with you, but don’t expect me to change my mind.”

  Jonathan’s grin fades. “Remember earlier, when you asked how I do things with my computer? Well, I don’t know how much SEEK’s Intel told you, but a couple of years ago I was just a high school geek who did Cosplay, computer club and marching band.

  He laughs at my expression. “I know, I said I was a geek.”

  “You did warn me.” I grimace, trying to picture it.

  “Anyway, one of the websites I frequented had a game of spies and espionage, ironically, my favorite challenge. While I was creating my character’s personality, I guess I got a little carried away, because I ended up making this program, BackWatch. A whole program, just for a fictional character.” Disbelief with a hint of pride fills his eyes. “It was just a game. I never dreamed it would turn into a reality.”

  “I’m not following you.” I wrap an arm around my empty middle, wondering what’s taking the blonde so long.

  “BackWatch was just a prop. The whole thing was made for fun, but when I realized it might actually work, I tried it. I made a website and advertised that people could download BackWatch for free to protect their computers from phishers, spammers, cookies, viruses, or anything that might infect their computers. The site exploded. I had three million hits in my first month. Businesses started making donations. Others began buying advertising on my site. Six months later I had offers from multiple security companies to buy BackWatch. I was a junior in high school when I accepted an offer of five-hundred million dollars.”

  I blink.

  “But, there’s another part to BackWatch I never told anyone about. The name BackWatch doesn’t describe what it does for the consumer. It describes what it does for me.” His hand comes up covering his face, just for a second, before his head whips up laughing. “It gives me a backdoor into every computer and security system that uses BackW
atch. And no one knows I’m there. Like a ghost. Today, the Department of Defense uses my program. Although I have to be careful there, their security is trickier. Private contractors, hired by our government, also use it…”

  “I’ve used it. SEEK uses it and Kistall too!” Both hands fly over my mouth. “That’s how you found my family.”

  “Yes, Keira, listen to him,” the same disembodied voice I’ve been hearing for days answers in my ear. I shiver, unbuckling the seatbelt, and draw my knees onto the chair. An effort to block it out. Pretend it doesn’t exist.

  “Yep, and my access isn’t limited to our government. The Avery Corporation that bought BackWatch took it global. BackWatch is like a virus of breadcrumbs I can follow almost anywhere. I literally can get into any bank, police department, even the Secret Service or the I.R.S.’s most private documents. That’s how I found Paul. He’s well-hidden from Kistall and Episteme, but he sent an email from his phone.”

  “What? How can you track…on a cell phone?” I choke, simultaneously mortified and awestruck.

  “Paul’s been up to some pretty interesting activities. I think you’ll want to see.” The streaming rays of late morning sun glimmer in his unnaturally bright eyes.

  “I can only imagine,” I whisper, absently picking at a jagged nail, my mind still reeling over Jonathan’s capabilities.

  “It could help Lindy.” Jonathan’s lips curve upward.

  Like a giant vacuum suddenly sucks the oxygen out of the room, I can’t catch my breath. Jonathan knows about Lindy. Of course he does. He probably knows what I wore to my winter formal.

  “How can Paul help Lindy? She just needs a Khayal, right?”

  Jonathan’s eyes lock on mine. “Yes, but not just any Khayal, her Khayal. According to Paul there’s only one Khayal that fits a person’s soul. Paul could help locate the right one for your sister by using a database his tactical team has developed.”

  “What?” I gasp as all of my plans dissolve into a puddle of failure once again. Still, I can’t escape the nagging feeling that Jonathan is wrong on this one. “Only one match? That would mean her Khayal could be anywhere. What if she’s in the Boone right now and gets killed?”