The Guardians (MORE Trilogy)

by Franklin, T. M.

  Again.

  They’d been at it for about an hour, and the girl still showed no sign of accessing her Race strength. If she had any to begin with, and Tiernan was seriously beginning to doubt she did.

  Ava grunted, and he could tell she was pushing against the block with all her might. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. The block was thick-walled steel, and even though he’d moved to a smaller one when it became obvious Ava couldn’t move the larger one, it still weighed close to five hundred pounds.

  He’d tried everything—leading her through meditation techniques, hard-core drill-sergeant tactics, even encouraging her, as much as it went against every fiber of his being. He was about out of ideas.

  “Maybe you’re just . . .” Tiernan winced slightly. “Not very strong.”

  She scowled at him, turned around, and pushed her back against the block, feet digging into the ground. “You think?” She turned back around, shoving it—or failing to shove it—with her hands again. “I don’t know why I even worry about it. It’s not like I need it. I can just use my gift.”

  “You can’t always rely on that,” Tiernan said, reminding her of the reality of the situation. “There are dampeners out there—and people like Emma, who can mess with your mind, despite your gift. You need every weapon at your disposal if it comes to that.”

  Ava grunted, obviously annoyed, but she kept pushing, so Tiernan took that as a win. It didn’t make any sense, though. Ava was Race. She should be able to do it. Perhaps she only needed a good incentive.

  “Come on, Ava,” he said, forcing a note of cheer into his voice. “If you move it an inch, I’ll give you a . . .” He searched his mind, at a loss at what to offer. “Cookie?”

  Ava slumped against the metal block, and she seemed unable to hold back a laugh. “A cookie? Seriously?”

  Tiernan wasn’t sure why he said that, but he wasn’t backing down now. “I like cookies,” he said, trying not to sound defensive.

  Cookies are good. Cookies are tasty. Nothing wrong with a good cookie.

  “No offense, big guy,” she said, straightening and patting his chest—a little condescendingly, he might add. “But cookies aren’t gonna do it.”

  “Yeah?” Tiernan considered her carefully as another idea came to mind. He rounded the block to the side opposite Ava. “Maybe you just need the right motivation.” Without warning, he shoved the block toward her a few inches, and Ava stumbled back in surprise.

  “Hey!” She regained her footing and glared at him. “You almost smashed my foot.”

  “Maybe you should push back, then.” He nudged it forward a bit more, trying not to grin.

  Ava narrowed her eyes and put her shoulder to the block, her jaw tight with determination.

  “Come on!” Tiernan taunted her. “Put your back into it!” He pushed lightly at the block—enough to keep Ava on her toes. “Don’t think so much. Let your muscles do the work. They know what to do.”

  “I really don’t think they do,” Ava said, punctuating each word with a pained grunt. “I think my muscles are pretty clueless, to be honest.”

  “Don’t be such a wimp.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Shut up?” Tiernan shoved the block a little more. “I think you better shut up. Put all that energy somewhere useful.” Maybe if he could get her to forget about everything for a moment, her innate nature—the Race blood rushing through her veins—would take over.

  Ava had her eyes shut, her brow furrowed, and her muscles strained to move the block. Tension radiated from her body, and he knew she was giving it all she had.

  Maybe just a little bit more . . .

  “Good thing Caleb will be back soon. Looks like you need someone to protect you.”

  Before he knew what was happening, Tiernan found himself on his back with the weighted block on his chest. He gasped, confused for a moment that he could breathe at all. In fact, the block wasn’t exactly lying on his chest. Instead, it hovered about an inch above him, and when he pushed at it, it didn’t move.

  Ava’s smug face appeared over him. “Now who needs protection?” she asked with a smirk.

  “That’s not fair,” he protested.

  Laughter drifted to Tiernan in his rather humiliating prison, and he realized they were no longer alone. He shoved at the block again and glared at Ava. “Get it off me.”

  She hesitated, and he thought for a moment she was going to make him say please. With a challenging arch of her brow, she turned her attention back to the block, and it flipped to Tiernan’s side, where it landed in the grass with a quiet thunk.

  He rolled to his feet and found Audrey and Gideon approaching them, amused grins on their faces.

  “Looks like you’ve met your match,” Gideon said to Tiernan.

  “She cheated.”

  “Cheated, schmeated,” Ava retorted. “I used what I have at my disposal.”

  “It’s astounding,” Audrey said. “You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time.”

  “Your telekinetic power is impressive.” Gideon nodded at Ava, and her irritation seemed to lighten a bit. “I don’t know if I’ve seen many with that kind of control.”

  “Have you seen a lot?” Ava asked.

  “In my line of work, I’ve seen it all.” He turned to lead them back to the main building, Ava on one side, Audrey on the other.

  Tiernan followed behind, listening carefully. Perhaps nursing his ego a bit.

  “I’m able to detect gifts in others,” Gideon told her.

  “Like a sensor?” Ava glanced back at Tiernan.

  Gideon shook his head, but it was Audrey who answered.

  “A sensor can detect Race,” she said, clarifying the difference. “In some cases, track them using their electrical imprint. Gideon’s gift is different.” She tipped her head to him, inviting him to explain.

  “I’m able to sense a particular gift within an individual. Your telekinesis, for example. And your Race intuition, your instincts, they’re particularly strong.” Gideon stopped, gnawing on his lip as he studied Ava, his eyes narrowed. “There’s something more, though. It’s strange. I can usually see it so clearly, but it’s like there’s something . . . hidden, something . . .” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait. I have news.”

  Tiernan stiffened. “News about what? Has Foster been spotted?”

  “Not yet,” Gideon replied. “But I may have an idea what the Rogues are up to.”

  Chapter 11

  Ava’s heart pounded as they gathered around the conference room table, and Gideon excused everyone else with a nod of his head. Once they were alone, he leaned his elbows on the table and scrubbed his hands over his face. He looked tired. He looked worried.

  “What is it?” Ava asked.

  He exhaled heavily. “We’ve been hearing rumors for months—nothing concrete, nothing specific—that something is going on with the Rogues.”

  “Something?” Tiernan sat rigid at Ava’s side, his hands curling into fists.

  “The word conspiracy is being thrown around.” Gideon turned to Ava. “I know you’re new to all of this, but Rogues don’t usually act in groups. They’re solitary creatures, living for their own pleasure and usually eliminating anyone who gets in their way.”

  “Caleb told me,” Ava replied, her blood chilling as she remembered her time in the Rogue lair. “Even the Council couldn’t figure out why so many of them would join together to take me.”

  “Not to mention track you since you were a child,” Tiernan said, pointing out exactly how long she had been on everyone’s radar.

  “Really?” Gideon’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  Ava sighed. She didn’t like thinking about Arthur’s betrayal for a lot of reasons. Still, she couldn’t deny that it could help them figure out what was going on, so she told Gideon all about it—how he’d been her neighbor, her best friend, how he’d apparently been watching her all of her life and was the one who lured
her to her own kidnapping.

  “And he said you were one of them,” Gideon mused, rubbing at his lips, deep in thought.

  Ava felt tired all of a sudden. “He kept rambling about having a higher purpose . . . about me having some kind of destiny to help the cause.”

  “The cause?”

  “That’s what he said. It was all a lot of crazy talk, to be honest,” Ava said with a sigh. “He even called himself a revolutionary.”

  “Well, that fits with what I’ve been hearing, actually.” Gideon stood and began to pace behind his chair. “Our contacts have been talking about Rogues joining together, although nobody could really figure out why. But what you’re telling me, combined with what I just heard . . .” He sat back down, his palms flat on the table.

  “I have a source close to the Council,” he said, his gaze darting between them. “And from what I’ve heard, it’s possible that the Rogues have plans to make a move on the Council. My contact says they fear a coup.” He focused his penetrating stare on Ava. “They’re particularly interested in getting you back to New Elysia.”

  “No way.” Ava laughed. “They know that’s not going to happen.”

  “You may not have a choice.”

  Ava turned on Tiernan, hiding her uneasiness with an icy stare. “Did you know about this?”

  “It’s no secret the Council wants you,” he said, refusing to meet her eyes.

  “But do they plan to try and force me?”

  His jaw twitched, and he looked down at his hands.

  “Tiernan?” Ava felt the familiar twist of betrayal, still so tender after Arthur. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know the Council’s plans!” He shoved away from the table, and the chair screeched as it scraped the floor. “I get my orders. I do my job. At least I did until I crossed paths with you! Now, apparently, I disregard orders and do what I want and hide things from the Council and—”

  “Sir!” A man appeared at the doorway and approached Gideon with long strides. “We have a breach of the outer cloak.”

  Gideon shot to his feet. “Is it him?”

  But Ava already knew. She felt the twinge along the edges of the Caleb-shaped hole inside her—her gift reaching out to his, even at a distance. Not quite like slipping a missing puzzle piece into place, but more fumbling with it a bit, trying to line it up just right.

  “It’s him,” she said in a frightened whisper.

  Even Caleb had to admit the cloaks were impressive, and he’d seen a lot of cloaks. The animals, so realistic, the bridge—he’d almost fallen for that one the first time he’d visited the Colony, and if he hadn’t been told it was a trick, he probably would have tried to find an alternate route.

  They’re close now. So close.

  He could feel himself draw nearer to Ava with every step, the void within him filling slowly, like glittering sand dribbling grain by grain into his soul. It had been difficult—more difficult than he’d imagined, even given his particular knowledge of the bond—to be away from her. He’d thought that keeping his distance, at least initially, would have kept it from forming quite so tightly, wrapping its greedy fingers around his heart, but he’d been wrong. And he could only imagine what it would be like once they were truly joined. In his most honest moments, it was a thought that both exhilarated and terrified him in equal measure.

  “Foster! Get your head in the game!” Bartok snapped.

  He was a few feet off to Caleb’s right, slipping silently through the trees. The guy did everything silently—invisibly—which was what Caleb assumed made him as good at his job as he was. Well, that and a general lack of anything resembling a conscience.

  Caleb nodded curtly and shifted farther up the trail, scouting ahead for more cloaks or any other hazards. “All clear,” he whispered, knowing they could hear him, before shifting forward again in the leapfrog pattern they’d perfected on their journey north.

  Caleb was impatient. He couldn’t wait to get to the Colony . . . to get to Ava, and for this whole thing to be over and done with. He’d left a trail as Bartok had ordered and doubled back, where they’d dallied in a seedy motel at the border for far too long, in Caleb’s opinion. Bartok wouldn’t tell him what they were waiting for, only that they’d get the go-ahead when the time was right. Apparently, now was the time.

  He shifted again and could just make out the familiar rooftops of a group of metal buildings through the trees, maybe a hundred feet ahead. He froze at the sound of voices and shuffling feet stumbling through the underbrush and quickly shifted back to his group.

  “They’ve spotted us,” he said in a warning whisper. “They’re coming.”

  Bartok nodded. “We knew this would happen. We’re ready. Spread out, everyone!”

  As they’d practiced, they formed a wide line and proceeded through the trees, Bartok to Caleb’s right, Christopher, the pyrokinetic, to his left, and everyone else scattered through the trees. Caleb walked with them instead of shifting, keeping the formation.

  “Diversion.” Bartok said to the man at his right, and in a few minutes, Caleb heard a loud crash somewhere in the distance.

  They stopped, listening intently.

  At the sound of shouts and pounding feet, Bartok grinned. “That should give us time to get past the perimeter,” he said.

  “Then what?” Caleb asked, although he knew.

  “Then we fight.”

  “But not Ava.” He’d lost count of how many times he’d said those words since the whole thing started. “Ava’s not to be hurt.”

  “Well, that would kind of defeat the purpose of all this,” Bartok said with a roll of his eyes. “Your girlfriend will be fine. We’re not here to hurt anyone. We’ll grab her and the scrambler and be on our way.”

  The brain scrambler. Bartok’s not-so-flattering nickname for Emma Reiko.

  Caleb felt a flash of uneasiness at his words. Emma was so young. But no. There was a reason for all of this. A greater purpose. Their future was at stake. The Council must be stopped.

  Caleb switched the gun he was holding into his left hand so he could wipe his sweaty palm on his jeans. Taking a firmer grip, he followed Bartok to the edge of the perimeter. They stopped in the shadow of the trees, peering into the cluster of buildings, and Bartok gave the order to advance with a jerk of his head.

  It was all he needed. They’d gone over the plan time and time again.

  Find the girls. Get them out. Do what you must to the others.

  With a shout, Caleb joined the others as they launched an attack on the Guardians.

  It all happened so fast.

  Ava followed Gideon as he ran to the control room, where they monitored the cloaks as well as more conventional security cameras and sensors. The room was abuzz with activity, save for a man and woman—siblings or possibly twins, if their matching blond hair, pale skin, and patrician noses were any indication—who sat off to the side, their eyes closed as Gideon demanded information in a quiet, but firm voice. Apparently, they were the organic portion of the cloak or perhaps more sensors.

  “How many?” Gideon asked.

  “At least a dozen,” the man replied. “They have a blank, so it’s difficult to tell for certain.”

  “And Caleb?”

  The woman shook her head, a hint of frustration cutting through her calm veneer. “I can’t be sure.”

  “This is a waste of time.” Ava grabbed Gideon’s sleeve. “I can feel him coming. He’ll be here any second.”

  Gideon faltered for a moment, his eyes flitting to the cameras before nodding abruptly at Ava and following her outside.

  Tiernan stopped once they’d hit the open air and tilted his head back to scent his surroundings. “That way,” he said, pointing to the southeast.

  They started in that direction, but a loud crash—or maybe some kind of explosion—had them stopping in their tracks, and as one, Gideon’s men started in the opposite direction.

  “No!” Ava shouted. “No, not that way!”

>   They hesitated, looking to Gideon for guidance.

  “It’s a diversion,” she said, willing him to believe her. “I can feel it.”

  Gideon’s eyes narrowed as he studied her for a quick moment.

  She could feel a flicker of . . . something and realized he was somehow reaching out to touch her gift, to see if she knew, or was being swayed by wishful thinking.

  Abruptly, he turned to Tyra. “Take half the men and see what that was,” he told his second-in-command, dismissing her with a nod. “The rest of you, spread out. Take up your assigned positions. The civilians are to be protected at all costs.”

  He spat orders as they strode to the southeast, and Gideon’s soldiers peeled off to take up defensive positions around the Colony.

  Emma appeared at Ava’s side, wide-eyed and frantic. “What’s happening?”

  “Caleb’s coming,” Ava whispered, “and he’s not alone.”

  She’d been waiting for this moment for so long, but now found she almost dreaded it. The fact that Caleb had been manipulated, that he wasn’t him—not really, not anymore—frightened her, if she were to be honest. “You’re really sure you can fix this?” she asked Emma, a touch of panic seeping into her words. “Put him back the way he was?”

  The girl reached for her wrist, her fingers locking around it tightly as she looked intently into Ava’s eyes. “I can. I promise.”

  Ava’s anxiety quieted, but in the next moment, the snapping sound of gunfire had her moving on instinct. She swept Emma behind her as they ducked around the corner of a storage shed. “Stay down,” she said.

  “But I can help.”

  “No,” Ava said firmly. “You need to stay safe. We can’t risk losing you. Can you mess with the Rogues from here?”

  Emma clung to her wrist, nodding against Ava’s back. “Yeah. I can help.”

  Tiernan and Gideon were ahead of them, hiding behind some trees as they waited for the Rogues to appear.

  Ava breathed deeply, willing her heart to slow and reaching out to feel Caleb’s approach. The puzzle piece adjusted, twisting as it aimed for the empty spot.