They sat at their usual table in the corner. The café boasted a French theme, with black and white photos of the Eiffel Tower lining the coffee colored walls.
"So, did you catch him in any lies?" Luke asked.
They'd been speaking in their made-up language more in the last week than in their entire lives combined, it seemed.
"No. He didn't offer any information, probably so he could avoid lying."
"Luce, you could've asked him a question and watched for signs. You should be a natural, like in that show Lie to Me."
"Ha! I'll work on it. Sucks that they canceled that show."
A skinny blond waitress came over to take their order.
Lucy closed the menu she'd been holding without looking in it. "Where's Amy, the girl who used to work here?" She noticed a new face behind the counter as well. A disturbing thought came to her. "And the rest of the staff?"
The waitress looked up from her pad and Lucy gasped at the vacant, deadened eyes that stared back at her. "They're gone. New management. What can I get you?"
Lucy found her voice and placed her order. "Hot turkey sandwich with mashed potatoes and a Coke, please."
"And I'll have—"
The blond interrupted Luke. "Sorry, we don't have hot turkey sandwiches anymore—or Coke. Read the new menu."
Luke and Lucy both opened their menus, actually reading them for the first time in about a year.
The menu had been redone, and had only three choices:
Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich $7.99
Cold Turkey Sandwich $9.99
Bottled Water $3.99
Lucy glared at the girl. "What the hell kind of crap is this? You're overcharging us for this?"
The waitress backed away and raised her hands. "Don't blame me. Talk to the people in charge. We can only serve what they give us."
Lucy and Luke shared a glance, then got up and walked out, slamming the door behind them.
Lucy's deliberate steps quickened into an angry run. "I can't believe this crap, what the hell is going on here?"
Luke kept easy pace beside her. "I don't know, but things are going from bad to worse. Whatever trouble Sam and Drake caused by escaping, I think it's just the beginning."
The headmaster's offices sat in the center of campus in a converted mansion that might have graced an early twentieth-century English landscape. It retained its old world dignity despite the slew of guards hovering around the main entrance like bored flies.
The head fly stepped forward as they approached.
"State your business."
Lucy slowed her breathing enough to scowl at the man. "You've got to be kidding me. We need to speak to the headmaster. Duh." She gestured at the building.
"He's not available."
Luke flexed his muscles—trying to look badass, Lucy assumed—and stepped forward. "He has an open door policy. He can't be unavailable."
"What is the nature of your request?" asked the drone in black.
Why so much black? Lucy wondered. Like guards gone Goth around here. Ugh. "I'm hungry." Lucy pushed her petite frame into his personal space. "And the food here has turned to shit. Overpriced shit at that. We need to talk to the Headmaster. Now."
"All administrative and campus-related questions must go through the new headquarters."
Lucy frowned. "You mean that sorry excuse for a bunker with all the Men in Black wannabes? No way." Had Headmaster Higgins become someone's puppet?
Speak of the devil. The headmaster himself walked by, catching Lucy's eye as he did.
She shoved the guard aside, who stumbled in surprise. "What's going on, Headmaster? Why can't we talk to you? Why the food change and all the guards?"
The headmaster fidgeted with his briefcase. His normally impeccably tailored suit was wrinkled and frumpy. Deep lines marred the dark skin of his face, and dark bags hung under his eyes.
"I can't talk about it, Lucy, I'm sorry." He wasn't lying. Whatever he meant by "can't" was truth to him. "Just do what they say." He walked away, leaving them surrounded by angry guards.
Luke dragged her out and steered her toward their dorm room, located in another mansion on campus, built in similar style to the headmaster's offices but on a smaller scale. "Well?"
"He's not lying. And he's in trouble. Something really bad is happe—"
A voice erupted from the loudspeaker. "ATTENTION STUDENTS. CURFEW IS NOW 9 P.M. BE IN YOUR DORMS BY 9 P.M."
Luke stared at the sky as though the man behind the voice would magically appear there. "That was succinct."
"Yeah. Let's get out of here. We need to start thinking of a plan."
***
The twins shared a suite on the floor lovingly referred to as the Creepy Crawly Ward. They'd just made it to their door when two of the younger students, a freshman and a sophomore, approached them.
Lucy couldn't remember their names or para-powers, but like all the Rent-A-Kids, she did recognize them from around campus.
"Luke, Lucy, I'm glad we caught you. Can we talk in your room?"
Luke raised an eyebrow. Lucy shrugged. They opened their door and let the boys into their spacious common room.
Luke flopped into a recliner and gestured to the overstuffed couch. "You guys can sit. What's up?"
The freshman shook his head once and stood in the middle of the modest room, twitching as though a bug had crawled up his pants. His friend stood next to him with his eyes shut and lips pressed into a tight line.
Lucy leaned against the couch and cleared Luke's dirty clothes off it, but didn't sit down. Her stomach grumbled loud enough for the whole room to hear.
The freshman spoke to the floor. "I'm Gary. This is Greg. Umm... well, a few of us were wondering... since, like, you were, like, best friends with Sam—you know, the girl who escaped—that maybe you'd like to join us in a Freedom Fighter meeting tonight." Only after he'd gotten all those painful words out did he finally attempt eye contact, albeit briefly.
Luke's face hardened and he shot Lucy a warning look.
She nodded. Best play it safe. "You know our rooms, everyone's rooms, are under surveillance."
The boy smiled and nodded to his friend. "Greg disrupts electrical waves and can manipulate surveillance equipment. Right now, anyone listening will hear a loop of silence until we're done. They'll also see an empty room."
Lucy was impressed despite herself. "What are the Freedom Fighters?"
Gary's voice dropped to a barely perceptible whisper. "A group of students are coming together to, you know, fight back, and... escape."
The last word floated on the air so gently, Lucy wasn't sure whether she'd really heard it or only imagined it. How could they possibly escape with the campus under heightened security? If it was impossible before Sam and Drake got away, it was even less likely now. No, they weren't stupid enough to get involved in something that crazy. It would be suicide.
The boy's brown eyes turned into saucers, pleading with Lucy. "Will you at least come to the meeting and see what it's about?"
She looked at Luke, whose face had an odd expression of rage and mania. Did he want to do this? Not happening. No way, no how. She crossed her arms and held her ground.
Which was why she was so surprised when later that night she found herself sitting in the middle of a group of Freedom Fighters planning their great escape. Suicide mission indeed.
Chapter 33 – Sam
The police station did not match the image I'd conjured from my mind. Maybe too many Law & Order reruns had corrupted me. The attractive Spanish style structure with warm honey tones reminded me more of a country club.
Brad took the lead when we walked in, telling the clerk whom we were there to see. Drake and I sat on a bench against the wall and waited.
'Are you nervous?' he asked.
"Yes. What if they don't believe us? What if they lock us up?"
He squeezed my hand. 'Even if they don't believe us, we aren't committing any crimes. Don't worry, we'll be fine.'
Brad sat down on the other side of me, sandwiching me between the two of them. "My contact is on the phone right now. It'll be a few minutes."
I clutched at my purse. Despite the class of the building, the police station still teemed with some interesting characters.
A guy dressed as an attractive woman sat across from us, tapping his—her?—foot impatiently and holding a bag to his chest.
A woman wearing nothing but an elastic, red body suit, with so many holes it revealed more than it covered, walked by in handcuffs, escorted by a young officer in uniform. She stumbled on her stilettos, but I caught her arm and helped her back up.
She gave me a blank, glassy-eyed stare. 'Need some... gotta get some... body aches... hurts... burning... pain... need to get out of here....'
Her sunken cheeks and emaciated form made me shudder. Before, I might have passed judgment, but now I understood what it was like to come off something like that. Granted, my addiction had been forced on me, but detox would have been very hard if I'd had access to the drugs my body craved.
"Oh shit!" The guys exclaimed in unison. Two elbows jabbed me at the same time.
"Hey, watch it!"
Drake's face fell. "Look at the television, Sam. We've got to get out of here."
I looked, and immediately wished I hadn't. My face stared back at me from a picture taken at Rent-A-Kid earlier that year. A perky newscaster smiled as she read from the teleprompter. "Sam is a troubled runaway who escaped from an institution early last week, and is mentally unstable, delusional, and considered dangerous. She is in need of medication and treatment immediately. If you see her, please call this hotline at 1-800-555-1211. There is a $10,000 reward for any leads that result in her apprehension."
Drake grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the building. The Southern California heat hit me hard after being in the air-conditioned office. My stomach lurched, and I spun toward the manicured lawns to empty it. God, I hate throwing up.
Brad cleared this throat. "We've got to go. Can you walk? We need to get to the car before anyone sees you."
***
I paid little attention to the rest of the world as we drove. My mind went numb. Too much had already happened that day; I just couldn't think about another thing. I needed a bath, a toothbrush and a nap.
Which is why I didn't sense the intruder when we pulled into the carport at Brad's apartment.
Or when we walked upstairs to his unit.
The broken-in door got my attention though.
***
Drake immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me from the apartment with his body. He spoke to Brad through clenched teeth, "Get her out of here!"
'Go back to the car with Brad. Get as far away as you can. I'll contact you when it's safe.'
I grabbed his arm and shook off Brad, who was trying to lead me back down the stairs. "Come with us. I don't want you going in there alone, Drake. Please!"
'I'll be fine, but I can't focus if I'm worried about you and our baby.'
Glass shattered in the apartment. I jumped and nearly fell off the stair. My heart beat through my chest, and I wrapped my free hand protectively around my stomach.
Drake needed me, even if he didn't see it. If we combined our powers, we could control whoever was in the apartment without anyone getting hurt. He didn't have to do it alone.
No! I didn't want to default to using mind control. The ethics may have gotten murky after my fight with Drake, and I wasn't ready to swear it off entirely, but using that power made me feel sick—especially after what had happened at the beach with Kylie.
Instead, I linked to the mind of the person in the apartment.
It was like hitting a brick wall. The impact physically rocked me, causing my foot to slip on the stair behind me.
Brad caught me around the waist. "Careful there."
"Thanks." The handrail became my lifeline as I steadied myself and tried to figure out why my powers weren't working.
Brad stood behind me, his hand still on the small of my back in case I decided to forget how to stand again. His thoughts washed over me. 'Wish I had powers... useless here... can't even help with the story... least she didn't fall....'
My powers weren't the problem; it was the person in the house. Were they immune to me? That had never happened before.
"Drake, I can't read his mind. It's like trying to walk through a wall."
'I can't use my mind control on him either."
My stomach dropped. "You tried mind control?"
'Of course! I wasn't going to risk anyone's safety if I didn't have to.'
His argument made sense, but still....
"What are we going to do now?"
'We aren't going to do anything. I'm going to go in there and beat the shit out of this guy while Brad takes you somewhere safe.'
"I'm not loving this plan."
'Can you think of a better one?'
I couldn't and he knew it, so I reluctantly followed Brad down the stairs and watched the apartment swallow Drake.
My resolve to do the smart thing lasted all of sixty seconds. As soon as I heard screams and crashing sounds, I lost it and ran back to the stairs.
Brad chased me. "Hey, Sam, you can't go in there!"
I rushed up the steps. "I can't let him do this alone either. What if there's more than one person? What if they're armed?"
"Yeah, what if? And how will you stop them, especially if your powers don't work?"
"The old fashioned way," I said.
"What's that?"
We stood at the door. I looked at Brad. "I'll throw something at their head."
"Great. And here I thought we were walking into a fight unprepared."
I ignored his sarcasm and peeked into the apartment. Upturned furniture littered the floor like a child's playhouse, but no Drake. Someone grunted, followed by a loud thud.
"They're in your room." I headed down the small hallway. On the way, I picked up an upturned lampstand, minus the lampshade.
"That's your big plan? Hit the bad guy in the head with a lampstand?"
"Yes, this is my big plan. At least I have a plan!"
Brad looked around and found a baseball bat that had fallen out of the closet. "My plan." He swung the bat around.
I nodded, and we approached his bedroom.
"Drake, we're in the hall. Are you okay?"
Nothing.
"Drake?"
"He's not responding to me. What do we do?"
Brad looked at me, then the door. His brown eyes turned to small slits. "Stand back."
He made a loud "Hiya!" sound and crashed through the door swinging his bat.
I flanked his side, straining to see inside the tiny room.
He made contact with something that sounded like a watermelon.
My stomach quivered in protest, given that Brad didn't tend to keep watermelons in his bedroom. I didn't want to see, but had to look.
Drake and Brad stood over a body whose head had seen better days. His face was an unrecognizable mess of purple and blue lumps with a split lip and gash in his cheek oozing blood.
I rushed to Drake, who had a swollen eye and bloody lip, but otherwise looked okay. "Any serious injuries?"
"None for me. He's not so lucky." He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into him.
"Is he dead?"
Brad checked his pulse. "No. Heart's still working. What do we do with him?"
Drake untangled himself from me and searched the man's body. "We need to figure out who this guy is and who he's working for."
"Is there really any question about who he works for?" Who else but Rent-A-Kid would even have us on their radar, let alone want us dead? "Why didn't our powers work on him?"
The body moved, then groaned. The guys jumped back. Brad raised his bat.
I formed a mental link with his mind again. This time, no brick walls. 'Pain... shit... gonna be busted....' And more of the same. People in a lot of pain were often hard to rea
d, less coherent and more focused on... well, the pain.
"I'm in his mind. His defenses are down."
Drake made eye contact with me. "We need to find out what he knows, and we need to do it quick. Others might come looking for him."
Crap. How was I supposed to take a moral stand against this power when there were so many exceptions?
Drake and I linked, and our powers amplified. Heat rushed through my body as we slipped into our attacker's mind.
Drake gave the guy a command. 'You will tell us everything you know about who sent you and why.'
The man refused to talk, or even think, about the information we needed. He shouldn't have been able to resist Drake's persuasion.
I pushed my own power into the command, strengthening it.
Still nothing. Drake frowned at me, confused.
I shrugged. "I have no idea why this isn't working."
A rush of heat exploded in my belly. I cried out and doubled over in pain. Our mental link intensified and the man spasmed, his body arching off the ground. A small glass wall I hadn't known was there cracked in the man's mind.
He cried out in pain, "The Seeker. He wants you. Tracks you, using us. Not safe."
We tried to coerce more information out of him, but he collapsed into unconsciousness. His mind reeled with wild images I couldn't make any sense of.
"Guys, I think that's all we're going to get from him."
Brad and Drake nodded, but didn't relax.
I stared at the body. "It's hard to tell with his face so…you know…but this looks like one of the guys who asked Rick about you, Drake. He has a partner somewhere. So... what do we do with him?"
Drake moved around the room. "We have to pack and find someplace safe. We'll leave him here. Someone will eventually find him, or he'll regain consciousness and make his way back to his boss."
"Dude," Brad said, "my name is on this lease. I'm in so much trouble."
"For what?" Drake asked. "He broke into your house. You didn't do anything wrong. Besides, we have to get out of here. We're all in danger now. I need to get you two to a safe place so I can go after the Seeker."
"Wait, what?" My head popped up. "Do you intend to go after the Seeker alone? No way. Unless by 'alone' you really mean with me, then yeah."
The Forbidden Trilogy Page 22
