by LeAnn Mason
We're being followed.
Damn. I nodded once to indicate I'd heard, listening with my ability.
I heard two minds behind, but nothing yet in front of us. The men behind us were fewer than twenty feet, while those in front were farther. Not good. I relayed such, in my best whispered voice.
With that, we began moving again, this time a bit more hastily. We weren't making enough progress. Dane cocked his head to the right as he paused to take in the scent he had filtered. “We’re getting close,” he said lowly.
Our subject. His aroma was strong now, we were almost on him. Within the next couple of shuffled steps forward, I was able to confirm this as his consciousness popped into my head.
"Dane's right, we're nearly on him. He's working to alter his illusion to erase himself and his vehicle from the soldiers' sight. Apparently, this is a bit difficult," I whispered to the enforcers surrounding me. He was working on his getaway. We had one more chance to stop this, to stop him. He was hiding just inside the line of crops creating his illusion.
Now that we were close, Devlin took the lead as the rest of us hung back. We let Stealth do his thing, moving in much the way I had seen leopards stalk their prey in documentaries. We needed surprise on our side, only then could we avoid more mayhem and possible injury… or death. It may have looked like we were just crouching about, but we were all alert, searching our environment for anything amiss, for someone's approach, which was precisely what our target should have been worried about.
A niggling feeling invaded my mind, making me pause.
Devlin, carefully and quietly, made his way toward where our baddie stood within the corn forest. If we hadn't seen him, I would never have known he was there. But that’s just it; was it real? That tickle, now that I focused on it, was foreign. It wasn’t my thoughts. Once again, the illusionist had infiltrated our minds.
I began moving toward where Devlin quickly approached the target. “Dev, wait, he’s—”
Devlin's fist rocketed toward the guy’s temple, and continued right through, the momentum nearly felling the massive Primal. The illusion dissipated with the realized apparition.
“Damn it!” Devlin pummeled the ground he knelt upon, his frustration bubbling over. Steve, the idiot, chuckled darkly at Dev’s fumble, inciting Jade to elbow him in the gut.
The rest of us warily looked about, trying once again to pinpoint the illusionist. I focused my mind to him again, or tried. He’d moved out of range. Dane was up again. “I’ll move behind you, Dane, so I can tell you what I hear. Sound good?”
Dane dipped his chin once, and we all fell into line behind him, hoping his heightened senses could lead us without another false image. The normal teddy bear demeanor the otherwise intimidating enforcer affected was completely absent in this hunt, in its place was a focused and calculated hunter. I didn’t hear the two soldiers following us. We must have lost them among the stalks– for now.
Devlin echoed my thought out loud. “Don’t trust your eyes. Dane, your nose,” then to me, “Nat, your telepathy. These are our guides.”
False images kept popping up. He’d be sitting off to our left, then peering out from between the stalks on our right. It seemed as he moved, he pushed out illusions that were stationary decoys. Enough to fool the eyes, at least for a moment. We all trudged by surprisingly quietly, little in the way of unnecessary or snarky comments. Maybe Steve was teachable. After the third dude we came upon, I brushed our target’s mind again.
“We’re coming up on him.”
We slowed, Dane inhaling deeply for confirmation. I kept my mind roving, trying to tune out the determined thoughts of the team. We were almost back to the road and the truck. This was our moment, but it could be tricky. We would be closer to the checkpoint and the border patrol unit. A few more cautious steps and we once again saw a figure standing just inside the crop line. With the knowledge that this was the physical truth, I aimed a question at Steve.
“Hey, can you immobilize him for a few moments so we don’t run the risk of him bolting?”
The smirk that spread across Steve’s thin face could only be described as sinister. Adjusting his wire frames, he narrowed his eyes and concentrated on the shadowed figure ahead. When Steve gave a decisive nod, we all moved at once, Devlin once again on point. He wanted his redemption.
It wasn’t until Devlin was towering over him that the illusionist realized he’d been caught. Dev’s crazed smirk and triumphant demeanor had the guy’s eyes widening, especially when he realized he couldn’t move, thanks to Steve’s immobilization.
He opened his mouth to shout, but Dev’s fist was there, not giving him the time to do more than squeak his fear. Being that knuckles are mainly skin covered bones, just like the face, the crunching sound of connection was easily audible. I cringed as the illusionary flew backward out of the field and onto the low-cut grass. He didn't move. Devlin's punch had knocked him completely unconscious.
Good.
"You, there! Down on the ground!" The guards near the gate turned in our direction, weapons up and ready. Devlin slowly raised his hands, the gun luckily tucked into its holster at his waist and not in hand. I couldn't imagine that would have gone over well.
He stepped out onto the grass next to the splayed body of our suspect. "I'm an Enforcer," he rumbled.
"I said, down on the ground!" the man shouted again, another man slowly crossing to Dev, his gun up and trained on our teammate, finger on the trigger. These guys sure didn't mess around, they'd shoot anyone they deemed a threat.
"Devlin Harlow, part of Commander James's uni–" That's all he got out before he was tackled to the ground. He didn't struggle; just let them roll him onto his stomach and cuff his hands behind him.
"What are you doing here? Is this the other driver?" The soldier peppered Devlin with agitated questions and motioned to the unconscious illusionary. The rest of the team, me included, watched as Devlin was manhandled. Still, he didn't resist, didn't complain. It was definitely not a side of Devlin I was used to seeing. Grass clung to his shirt back and tactical pants, a large clump wedged between his gun and his side.
I hated cowering, but it was the smarter move. We were outmanned and outgunned. If we revealed ourselves as Devlin's companions, tensions would only mount and someone could get hurt. Most likely one of our team. We couldn't risk it.
"Check my back pocket, you'll find my identification and credentials. My badge is on my belt. Did Commander James contact your unit?"
After the soldier divested Devlin of his weapon, he hauled him to his feet, but only with help and cooperation, because let's face it, Dev's a big boy and one ninny was not going to toss him around without his say so. The soldier rifled through Dev's pockets, pulling out his wallet. He flipped it open, read, then looked back at Devlin, reaching forward to push up the hem of his shirt where it now hung loose over his belt. A shiny gold shield at his waistline glinted accusingly in the sunlight.
"Sorry," the soldier mumbled, stepping forward to release Devlin from the handcuffs at his back. “We got a call about your team a few minutes ago.”
"What are you doing?" another soldier yelled from his spot by the gate, weapon still up, clearly not understanding why Devlin was being uncuffed and having his weapon returned.
"Thanks, man," Dev said as he brought his hands in front of him and rubbed his wrists, looking down at the unconscious illusionist. "My team is out there." He motioned toward the field where we all crouched like shadows seeking shelter from the light. "We need to get this man into custody. Preferably before he wakes up and I need to knock his ass out again." He gave a wry smile and drew his eyes to our location. "All clear!"
At the call, Dane stood, his head now above the waving stalks, hands up and palms out. The rest of us followed his lead, adopting the same position with our hands, moving cautiously toward Devlin, the soldiers, and the unconscious subject.
The emergence of so many put the rest of the soldiers on edge, their weapons not d
ropping and minds whirring. They were still unsure of our intentions and weren't going to take chances with any Enhanced, so the weapons stayed raised and ready, their adrenaline high and eyes wary.
"Let's get him cuffed," Devlin said as he moved slowly, deliberately, to our target. Whether the comment was for Dane or Holden, I had no idea. I just knew he wasn't talking to any of the trainees, me included.
CHAPTER 26
THE SUBJECT UNFORTUNATELY DID not, in fact, stay unconscious. Once we had the cuffs on him, Devlin hauled him up and over his shoulder so easily, you would have thought he was hauling potatoes.
He said he didn't want to cradle the man like a damsel in distress, namely because he didn't like him enough to put that kind of care into his transportation. The rough treatment apparently roused our boy, who decided he wanted to struggle. What a futile idea, a Sage attempting to physically maneuver themselves away from a Primal, rather laughable really.
Devlin clamped his arm tighter around Mr. Baddie's legs and grumbled, "Don't. Don't even think about using your illusions right now, Picture Boy." He used his free hand to grab the man's handcuffed wrists and bent at the waist to put the subject to the ground.
The illusionist narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips, a pathetic attempt to stare Dev down. There was zero intimidation in that look, and I couldn't quite keep the chuckle from squeaking out of my pressed lips. Still the typical Sage, assuming a spot of superiority, even when clearly disadvantaged. This one buried his feelings like a champ, only to use them for illusionary fuel.
"If my girl, Nat, over there," he continued, pointing at me, "gives me any indication that you are working on an illusion–" He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, punctuating his unfinished statement. "Well, then, I’m just going to have to knock you out again. Or maybe I’ll let Steve here, seize your muscles. You got a taste of that already. Did you like it?" He shrugged like he couldn't care less if it came to that.
Steve hoped he'd get to. I smirked, but successfully contained my mirth this go around. "Now, unless you want me to call you 'shithead,' you may want to give me your name." Devlin continued.
The illusionary looked slowly around him, taking in the faces of his captors. He sneered when his eyes alighted on Steve.
"Never thought I'd see Alan Davidson's boy playing cops and robbers with a bunch of Primals." He practically spit the word. This guy was a real treat, definitely one who felt he was entitled to everything, and that all of those "lesser" than him should move out of his way. Nice.
Wait, Davidson? The douchey politician? The council member? The guy I humiliated on so many levels the last time we met? Well, that explained a lot about Steve. Apparently douchiness and entitlement didn't fall far from the daddy-tree.
Steve never let his arrogant mask falter. In fact, he stood taller, squaring his shoulders. "Father is behind this collaboration. Besides, these enforcers need our help. The aid of those who are more intelligent. I will be a part of cleaning up the filth from Minefield, whether Primal or Sage."
I actually wanted to applaud Boat Shoes for the first time since we met for that little soapbox monologue, but again, now was not the time and I made sure not to deviate from my professional façade.
Devlin pushed at the illusionist, making him stumble a few steps away from our circle. "Get moving."
Once back at the main road, we remembered that our van was incapacitated further inside the field, and the only available vehicle which could transport all of us safely was the subject's truck—the truck Holden and I had stowed at the curb of the restaurant. A single cab. Go figure.
My eyes floated to the right and landed on the downed enforcers. Neither was moving, their eyes closed and chests still. The pools of red now darkened to a more inky color as it sat exposed on the bodies as well as the rough, cracked roadway.
Our capture procedure had taken too long to save them. They would not be leaving the wall. Well, they would, but only to find a more permanent resting place. That realization brought us all to a halt around the fallen.
The illusionist had succeeded in bending others to take a life. Two fewer enhanced in Minefield, all due to a madman’s whims. “We need to take these men.” I only forced my attention away after I realized moisture was escaping the corner of my eye. This sight, this day, would stay with me forever.
Medics are on the way now that the threat has ended, Holden assured me. Nat, you should drive. Jade and Steve in the cab with you. The rest of us will file into the bed. We'll hang onto the illusionist.
"Why us in the cab?"
"You're fragile," Dane answered. Not sure how he knew what I was referring to, but maybe it was just the obvious answer to that question. I glared at him all the same. I was not fragile. But Jade and Steve were. I nodded in agreement and reached for the driver's door of the old truck while the Primal members of our team, plus one captured baddie, piled into the worn bed.
The door creaked loudly as I yanked it open and threw myself inside. I slid open the little center window embedded in the rear panel of glass. I needed to be able to hear everyone clearly. "Back to the CP, or is there somewhere else you want to take him?"
"CP," Dane barked as he slapped the side of the truck bed with his palm, twice. The understood signal for go. "We have more privacy there."
The way he looked at the illusionist when he said this was one of the most ominous things I had ever seen. Our captive seemed to agree, because he nearly pissed himself at Dane's statement. He didn't want to find out what we could do with said privacy. Good, maybe that would make this easier.
I turned the key, which was still in the ignition, and the truck roared to life. Man, we must have been out of it if we hadn't been able to pursue this vehicle immediately. Its loud idling would have made it easily identifiable, not to mention it was one of our trucks. Well, I had been temporarily unconscious and was beginning to feel the after effects once again, now that the adrenaline was abating. Speaking of…I reached up and felt for the gash on my cheek. Nothing. Just smooth skin. Tender, but smooth. Please, don't let them realize it hadn't always been.
With that last terrifying thought, I gave the posted soldiers a little wave and eased the truck around to head back into town. Steve’s and Jade's minds were spinning, reliving everything we had been through in the last hour or so. Had it really only been that long? So much adrenaline and tension. So much fear and uncertainty in such a short amount of time. The minds in the rear of the vehicle were much more subdued. Wary of our captive, but calm.
I tried to focus on the illusionist's mind while not alighting too much on my teammates and still paying attention to the road and everything around it. Needless to say, it was difficult and was pulling my attention in too many ways to be effective in all of them. I decided that I needed to concentrate on two: the illusionary and driving.
Just as we were pulling up to the first stop sign heading back into civilized Minefield, I gleaned that our captive was working on another illusion. "Hold on," I murmured to Jade and Steve. Jade gave me a quick look, then threw her hand out to push against the dashboard murmuring for Steve to just do it. Steve rolled his eyes but reached up to grab the handle over the window.
I tapped the brakes to give a quick jolt to all in the truck, a warning, and met Holden's eyes in the rearview mirror. Then I smashed my foot onto the brake, bringing the truck to an abrupt halt. All the Primals in the rear kept their balance and swayed with the motion, their hands against the metal in some fashion. The illusionist on the other hand went tumbling, stopped only when his face met the metal of the truck bed.
He tried to brush the blood running in rivulets down his chin by rubbing it on his shirt. He wailed in agony as his nose also made contact. Seeing as he was still restrained with hands cuffed behind him, he had no way to break his fall to the metal truck bed except with his face. Seeing his ineffectual efforts, nose still gushing blood and dripping onto dirty jeans to mingle with the dirt and grass which also adorned them, he gave up and just glare
d at me.
Still sitting idly at the stop sign, I turned around in my seat so I could look out the rear window, and made sure he heard me. I wagged my finger, "Uh uh uh, none of that Mr. Baddie." He glared. "I have no problem telling one of the guys to knock you out again, maybe give you a nice shiner to go along with that jaw and nose." I shrugged and gave a false look of sympathy before grinning wickedly and turning to face forward.
CHAPTER 27
THE REST OF THE drive to Sam’s, the dual purpose facility acting as both gym and CP, lasted only another few minutes. Though as we drove through Minefield's streets, we received several curious or appalled stares from whoever was out and about. So many questions flitted through minds. It wasn't a stretch for the enforcers to have someone in custody, it was however, for that person to be a Sage. Couple that with the group of Sages in the cab of the truck and we were an enigma for the good people of town.
I don't think our joint task force would be kept secret for much longer. There would be too many questions in need of answers, too many sightings to ignore or brush off. Especially when we continued to investigate in the future. This couldn’t be brushed aside as a one-off.
I brought the truck to a stop outside the rear entrance to the gym. Our entrance. The truck bounced as Dane left his seat by launching himself over the side of the truck's bed and landing lithely and silently on the asphalt. He then walked to the rear of the truck to release the tailgate. "I think she improved your look," he snickered at our captive as he reached in and grabbed the illusionist around an arm and pulled.
Our baddie tried to resist, but without his hands and the slickness of the metal, all he succeeded in was making obnoxious squeaking noises as his shoes scrambled for purchase and his dirty pants slid across the ridges. He still refused to talk and determinedly pressed his lips together while shooting daggers at the encroaching Primals.
