The Forbidden Trilogy

by Kimberly Kinrade

  "I'm fine, I think. I slipped and fell in the pool. Must've hit my head on the side."

  "Come on, dear, let's dry you off and get ice on that. Perhaps we should take you to the doctor."

  "No, no doctors. I just need to lie down."

  After a warm shower and dry clothes, I rested on my guest bed with ice packs that Tommy replaced each time they melted.

  "You're a good nurse, kid."

  His eyes glowed bright at the compliment as he eased a fresh icepack onto my face. "You didn't fall, Sam," he whispered. "I saw Uncle Henry hit you. Why would he hurt you like that? That's not right."

  I sat up to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see that, buddy. You're right, he shouldn't have done that. But I need you to do me a favor."

  "What, Sam?"

  "I need you to keep this just between us. No one else can know, okay?"

  My heart constricted at his confusion and sadness. How could I do this to him? How could I ask him to lie, to cover up abuse, when I'd just jeopardized my assignment to expose his father? But what choice did I have? I couldn't risk any more problems. I shuddered at the thought of my potential punishments for what I'd already done.

  "You want me to lie?"

  "Oh, Tommy, I don't know. Of course I don't want you to lie. But there's more going on here than I can tell you right now. Do you trust me?"

  "Yes, I sure do!"

  "Then please don't tell anyone, okay? And remember, no matter what happens after I leave, I love you and have done everything I can to protect you."

  He nodded and snuggled into the bed with me.

  I relished those few moments of innocence before I got up to prepare to leave.

  By that evening, both my eyes were nearly swollen shut. Gar made the arrangements and scheduled a pickup for me, but I had one more thing to do before we left.

  I found Mrs. Beaumont in the kitchen. "Do you have a computer I can borrow? I just want to email my friends that I'm coming home."

  "Of course, dear. We're sad to see you go, but so happy that you're no longer in danger."

  They had bought the cover story, and now that my assignment was complete, my "father" no longer needed me ensconced in safety.

  She led me to her study and logged me into her computer. "There you go. Take your time, I'll be in the living room if you need any help."

  "Thank you." Guilt prodded me to talk more than I should have. "Mrs. Beaumont, if something were to happen to your husband, would you and Tommy be okay?"

  Her face probably couldn't register surprise, what with the Botox, but a small tear formed in the corner of her eye. "Don't you worry about us, Sam. I know more than you think, and I'll always make sure Tommy is taken care of."

  She left the room and left me with more questions than answers. Did she know about her husband's extracurricular activities?

  I slipped the memory stick into the computer and opened up an email as Mrs. Beaumont. It only took a second to find the FBI email address for tips. I attached the pictures, wrote a brief message exposing Mr. Beaumont, and hit Send. Right or wrong, I had to be sure this bastard paid.

  Gar had stood behind me the whole time, probably to make sure I didn't expose Rent-A-Kid in any way. When I looked at him, he gave a curt nod. I think he approved of my choice.

  He checked his watch. "We have to go now."

  Before we left the room, I pulled Gar around to face me. "Thank you for defending me, and for letting me do this."

  His lips twitched just the slightest. "I have a daughter. You did the right thing."

  He turned and walked away before I could say anything else. I tried to imagine Gar with a family, but the picture didn't fit—like that "which of these doesn't belong" game. But everyone had to come from somewhere. No one was created in a lab.

  Gar had left the door open for me, and I went back to the guest room to get my bags and make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

  Time to say goodbye to Tommy.

  He clung to me and cried, begging me not to leave.

  In a move that broke more rules than I could count, I slipped a picture into his pocket of the two of us, from the fair we'd gone to. I'd managed to get pictures of us together in one of those booths while Gar used the bathroom. Don't leave any evidence of your presence. Avoid cameras and photos. Remove surveillance before you leave. Erase anything with your image on it. They'd drilled those rules into me since I was a kid. But I gave Tommy something no one in the outside world had: a tangible reminder that I'd been there.

  "I don't want you to go. Can't you stay? Please? I promise I'll be good!" He looked at me with those big sad eyes.

  I fought back the tears. "No matter what, remember that I love you. If you ever get scared, just close your eyes and meet me in that special room we made together in our minds. Remember?"

  "Yes, Sam, I remember." His voice cracked on my name. Tears slid down his soft, baby cheeks.

  "I'll always be able to hear you, and you'll know I'm there, okay?" I hoped. Having memorized his mental frequency, I planned to check up on him, if I could reach that far. Maybe once out on my own, I could find a way to help him. Distance reading was no simple task, but I would get better. I had to.

  I kissed him on the cheek and plopped into the limo, slinging my book bag onto the seat next to me. My guard sat in the front with the driver.

  A phone rang. I answered it, knowing who it was ahead of time.

  "You broke protocol." Higgins didn't sound happy.

  "Yes, I had to," I replied without remorse.

  "You'd better hope this doesn't get out of our control, Sam. Otherwise, your retirement plans might be affected."

  The threat lingered like the monster of long ago, hiding in my closet at night, waiting for me to fall asleep. Whatever. I didn't regret my choices.

  "Everything will be fine," I said. And I believed it.

  Chapter 8 – Drake

  When Drake regained some semblance of consciousness, intense pain stripped every nerve ending raw. His mind felt crushed into his skull, not just from the hit to the head—his powers gave him the ability to heal faster than most—but from the mind assault when someone used Drake's powers against him. How was that even possible?

  He didn't open his eyes. First, he wanted to get a sense of his environment. Wheels clanked against a linoleum floor and he felt himself move forward. Voices floated around him like clouds. The world around him drifted through his awareness like bubbles—so fragile and immaterial.

  He'd been drugged. He remembered the dart to his arm, but he suspected they'd given him something more since taking him.

  Who did this? Where was he?

  Questions swirled through his mind, and he couldn't steady his thoughts enough to make sense of anything.

  He had clothes on, not just his bathing suit, so someone had dressed him. The air smelled of chemicals and sickness, like a hospital.

  Darkness threatened to close in on him again. Panic filled his veins and sent a small shot of adrenaline through him.

  Another mind connected with his—someone with similar powers, someone who could help. He reached out, pushing his mind with the little strength he had left.

  He squinted through pain, and locked eyes with a dark-haired, pale-faced beauty who looked as if she'd been in a bar fight. One blue eye shined bright with intelligence, while the other was swollen nearly shut. Her pink lips curved into a frown, and she placed a fist on the swell of her hips, which accented her petite frame.

  A protective instinct flared and Drake wanted to defend her against whoever had given her that black eye, but he couldn't be the knight when he needed saving himself.

  He reached out to her mind. 'Help me.'

  She held his fate in her mind. Before he collapsed back into oblivion he willed her to help, willed her to remember him and find a way to free him.

  As he sank into nothing, her blue eyes, fair face and dark hair haunted him, and he was left with one thought: she's mine.

  Chapter 9 – Sam


  No matter how many times I'd been drugged, I still woke up in a slight panic. My body maintained no sense of how long it had been. My subconscious mind had been shut out—definitely the worst part of any assignment.

  Wait....

  Mary lay in the bed next to mine. That sucked worse.

  She sneered at me from behind her blond hair. "Well, look who finally woke up. Took you long enough. Had some trouble, huh? Is Higgins's pet turning rebel?"

  "What do you want, Mary?" Though sick of her games, ignoring her would only inspire her to greater taunts.

  "Nothing. Just waiting on the good doctor, like you."

  I slipped into her mind, like being stuck in the poisonous trap of a viper. 'Thinks she's so great... not that great... not even as pretty as everyone thinks... tits too small... and look at that black eye... looks like she finally screwed up... hope she gets what's coming to her... she's just a goody two-shoes... little priss.'

  Well, nothing new there. Did she ever have any other kind of thought?

  I raised myself on the bed. The world spun just a little through my swollen eyes. Fake flowers in artificially bright colors stood on the table by the window, a futile attempt to cheer up the dreary grey walls and fluorescently lit room.

  The tiny Dr. Sato walked into the room. "Ah, Sam, Mary, you both wake. Good," she said with a soft voice.

  Why is she nervous?

  Her pronounced Japanese accent, stronger than usual, gave away her unease. "How you feeling?"

  I stretched my arms and moved my neck around to work out the kinks. The inside of my mouth reeked. "Fine, just a bit of a headache." Probably brought on by my roommate. Well, and the black eye.

  "And you, Mary?" she asked.

  "I feel wonderful." Mary crossed her long legs seductively and purred. Her slinky silver gown showed off more than it covered. Who the hell was she trying to impress in here? Her para-power to seduce couldn't claim any new victims in the absence of heterosexual men.

  Dr. Sato took my blood pressure, checked my temperature, and examined my eyes and cheek. "You bruised. Bone hurts, but you be better soon. Just no jumping."

  Again with the nervousness.

  I slipped into her mind but met only gibberish, having never had a chance to learn her particular dialect. It unnerved me—nothing clear, as if I'd lost my hearing or eyesight. Normally, the images that filled her mind were of her homeland or the clinic, benign and useless to me.

  Today I felt terror coming off her, and saw a flash of a man with a gold tooth leaning over an unconscious girl.

  "You go now. Headmaster Higgins expects you. You get dizzy or have troubles with eye, come back. And you take it easy until eye sees better. And no jumping too. Okay?"

  I nodded and bit back a comment about how hard it would be to refrain from jumping everywhere.

  My book bag sat on the chair by the fake flowers. I hopped off the bed—oops, does that count as a jump?—grabbed it, and walked through the long corridors to the exit while processing Dr. Sato's dark thoughts. Confronting Higgins always made my stomach hurt, but getting away from Mary made it worth it.

  Few people walked the corridors of the clinic. Where were all the normal personnel?

  I stopped at the front desk to sign out. Something's out of place.

  A movement caught the corner of my eye.

  A boy, about my age, tall and muscular, lay unconscious on a stretcher. I only saw a glimpse through the electric doors to the surgery. His messy blonde hair had flecks of red in it. Dried blood. A gash ran over his forehead. As the doors closed, his eyes flashed open and held mine for one long moment.

  'Help me.'

  The mental message sent me staggering back in its ferocity. An urgent compulsion to respond overwhelmed me, a need to do as he'd asked.

  Then the boy lost consciousness. My mind cleared, and whatever had grabbed hold of me disappeared.

  Missy, an attractive, plump woman who worked the front desk, frowned. "Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?"

  "No, I'm fine. I just... head's still hurting, you know."

  She did know. Her eyes gleamed with sympathy. I'd always liked her. She baked us cookies from time to time, and kept her blond hair in a messy bun held together with random pencils. I'd tried it once on my hair, but couldn't make it stay put.

  "Missy, who was that boy they were wheeling in? He looked hurt, but I don't recognize him."

  Not many kids lived on the huge estate. We all knew each other, at least by sight. The memory of his persuasive presence in my mind had me unnerved in ways I couldn't explain. My body betrayed the anxiety with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

  Missy avoided my eyes, something a lot of people did unintentionally, thinking it would keep me from reading their minds.

  'She shouldn't have seen that... hope she doesn't say anything... I could get in trouble... don't want her to get in trouble either... sweet girl.'

  "Oh, don't worry about him, love. Now you'd better be going. Headmaster Higgins doesn't like to be kept waiting."

  "Of course. Have a good day, Missy."

  Her face relaxed. "You too, Sam."

  I opened the door to leave the clinic, but stopped when I noticed Dr. Sato in the hall talking with a new doctor I didn't recognize. Her face squinted in anger and her arms flailed about as she made her point. He looked even angrier and spoke to her in a low, mean voice, and took a step forward, his hand held up in a way that made me flinch in fear for her.

  I slipped into his mind and—something shoved me out and slammed the door! My head pounded like it had been pummeled with an anvil. That had never happened before. The doctor looked at me and his rage melted into a smile, a gleam of gold tooth shining from his mouth. My insides turned to Jell-O as his aura seduced me into complacency, but then the urgent plea for help from Mystery Boy pushed out the unwelcome intrusion. The doctor had some kind of para-power, and he was immune to mine.

  Shock flooded my system. And fear. No one had ever been immune to my mind-reading. A trail of dread crawled up my spine and wound itself around my heart.

  I fled to the comfort of the outdoors.

  The sun felt ten shades brighter than normal outside the double glass doors. I pulled my sunglasses out of my backpack and walked the winding trails through campus, my body still shaking from both unusual encounters. The warmth calmed me, but not enough to erase the effects of that strange boy and his compelling mind, not to mention the creepy doctor.

  ***

  Near the main offices, a group of kids ran by in gym uniforms. One petite girl fell out of line to throw herself into a hug.

  "Lucy!" I laughed and hugged her back just as fiercely.

  "Where have you been, Chica? And what the hell happened to your face?"

  Even in gym clothes, my best friend could cause a riot with her curvy figure, smooth brown skin, and long, dark Spanish hair.

  "Lucy, let's go!" Luke waved at me as he called his sister. They fell behind their class. "Hey, Sam, meet us tonight, okay? We need to talk." His face pinched in a frown.

  "Sure thing." I pushed Lucy away. "Go, I'll see you later. I have to get to the office."

  "Fine, but I want details. And we really do need to talk."

  She ran off, her ponytail swinging down her back. Though tempted to spy on her mind to find out what had both of them so upset, I needed to get to Higgins's office. Besides, I'd see them later, and could fill them in on my adventures. The rules didn't allow us to share the details of our assignments with anyone, not even other paranormals. But Luke, Lucy and I had been best friends since we could remember, and we found ways to communicate without technically breaking those rules—like a secret language I'd created several years ago.

  I walked on, my mind drifting. Oh, Tommy. How I wished I could have told him the truth, told him everything about my life.

  What would Tommy have said if he'd known who I really was? It made me sad to think about.

  I shook off my melancholy and entered the h
eadmaster's office.

  He didn't stand, or even look up at me, when his secretary ushered me into his office, just stared down at his oh-so-important papers.

  She closed the door, and I settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk and reluctantly took off my sunglasses. My face would further condemn my actions. After a moment, he looked up.

  "Ah, Sam, you look wretched. How are you feeling?"

  Not the opening I had expected. "Bit of a headache. I'll be okay."

  He already had the oral briefing, but I followed standard procedure. I'd been given time before the drugs to complete my written report on the plane, and I placed that on his desk

  He flipped through it, then shuffled the papers that had consumed his attention a moment ago and placed them neatly in his filing drawer.

  I fidgeted with the zipper on my book bag. I wanted to ask about the art contest, and the interview, but I didn't dare jump the gun after involving the Feds in my assignment and threatening a client.

  "You know that stunt you pulled could have gotten this entire organization in trouble," he said.

  "I know. And I wish I could say I'm sorry, but you don't know what he was thinking, what Beaumont was going to do to that girl—and other girls. Honestly, this is the biggest creep I've ever met. I had to make sure he didn't get away."

  "You've always been one of our best, never causing problems. This is your first mistake, so I'm going to let it slide. But this is a once-in-a-lifetime freebie. Any more trouble and I won't be so nice."

  "I know." My whole body relaxed, releasing the tension I hadn't been aware I carried.

  "Good. Well, I have some exciting news for you."

  Oh?

  "You've been accepted into Sarah Lawrence College." He pulled out an official-looking letter and handed it to me.

  "Oh my God, really? But how? I haven't even had the interview yet?"

  "I called in a favor. I wasn't sure if you'd be back in time and I didn't want you to miss out on this chance at your dreams. Based on the portfolio you sent in, a nudge from me and a glowing evaluation from Mr. Krevner, they agreed to let you in without the required interview."