Awakening (TalentBorn Book 1)

by C. S. Churton

  The canteen is mostly deserted – a quick glance at the clock tells me I've missed the lunchtime rush – so I claim a table in the corner where I can see the door and settle down to wait for Scott. I dedicated a bit of time to idle daydreaming, marvelling at how much my life has changed since he came barging into it. I’m glad the awkwardness from our non-event in the lift didn’t linger. My mind runs back over his tender contact, and I can’t help wondering what would have happened if I’d had the guts to say what I was really thinking; if I’d raised my hand and touched his face, drawn him towards me and–

  A tray clatters onto the table in front of me, shattering my fantasy. I look up guiltily into Eric’s apologetic face.

  “Sorry, Anna. Say, are you okay? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine, thanks, Eric. You just made me jump,” I lie. He apologises again and then disappears, leaving me alone with the steaming soup. I chastise myself for my errant daydream – I’ve forbidden myself from thinking about Scott in that way. You’d think him almost throttling me this morning would have driven that particular memory from my mind, but apparently not. I dip the spoon into the thick liquid, pausing to blow on it, and then take a tentative sip. I’m pleasantly surprised – the soup is definitely edible, and I can’t help but wonder if Eric poured it out of a tin. He doesn’t seem a likely chef.

  My stomach churns in reaction to the warm food, but as I take another mouthful, then another, I start to feel better. I’m over halfway through by the time Scott appears and takes a seat in front of his tepid coffee. He takes a sip and grimaces, then sets it aside. I watch him closely for a moment, startled to realise that he looks even more exhausted than I am. I hope he’s not losing sleep over the trouble I’m causing. I would comment on it, but I’m feeling way too awkward after catching myself thinking about him in a very non-professional capacity. I lower my spoon into my soup to mask my embarrassment, but I’ve lost my appetite. Deprived of my distraction, I abandon the spoon and look up to catch him staring at me intently.

  “Do I have soup on my face?” I ask him, and feel myself turning red. I’m such a messy eater. I look for a napkin on the tray and realise there isn’t one.

  “Sou–? No,” he says, appearing embarrassed himself, like I’d caught him spying on an intimate moment.

  “Oh.” I look back down at my soup for a distraction, then push it aside.

  “So, what’s the plan for this afternoon?”

  Scott seems grateful for the change of topic.

  “The techs have prepared a new lab for us, if you feel up to making another attempt?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He’s still scrutinising my face, and I wonder what he’s seeing there – fear? Reluctance, frustration? Or anticipation? I’m more enthusiastic about the training session than I’d expected, which brings me back to Sandra’s theories. I outline them briefly for Scott, who looks thoughtful for a moment. I hope it doesn’t mean he’s planning any more tricks.

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Let’s do it.”

  I’m soon back sitting in the same chair as this morning, but everything else has changed. Only one of the white coats from earlier is here, the one with shaggy, unkempt hair and glasses – Toby, I think his name is – and he has the decency to look a little sheepish. Apparently the other two are monitoring us from another room, which is just as well since this one is tiny. Even with just the three of us it’s more than a little cramped in here. The walls are lined with some sort of plating, which will apparently stop my EM pulse from disrupting anything outside of this room. Part of me is impressed that Gardiner hasn’t ordered them to see how strong the pulse is in order to weaponise it. The other part of me wonders if he’s just waiting until I have some control over it.

  The white coat is nodding; either in response to a gesture from Scott or a voice in his earpiece, I’m not sure which.

  “Okay, Anna, when you’re ready.”

  I have nothing to fear from shifting, I remind myself, trying to get comfortable in a chair that clearly wasn’t designed for comfort. I’ve just got to trust these guys. If Sandra’s theory is right, then I just need to work through it. The headache and nausea will pass. Okay, so I’m not exactly thrilled about the blackouts, but the more I shift, the sooner Doc Maynard can work out what’s causing them and fix it. Scott will be there by the time I wake up, and if I’m honest, the whole thing scares me a whole lot less now that I know I’m not losing my mind.

  I exhale slowly and close my eyes, and focus on the terror I felt back in the shopping centre when I was stealing that stupid ring. I bring it to the centre of my mind: the stones on the ring’s surface biting into the palm of my hand, the shocked gasps and startled stares of the other shoppers, the desperate need to escape. The fear has imprinted the scene in my memory and it’s like I’m living it again: I can hear the sound of boots on metal ringing in my ears, signalling the proximity of my pursuers, but I don’t dare to look at how close they are.

  I reach the bottom step and get ready to run again. Something snags my shirt. A hand. I twist and manage to wrench myself free, but as I look across the empty floor to the exit, the second cop appears and cuts me off. I skid to a halt, swivelling my head around frantically. How did he get in front of me? I don’t have time to think about it – I have to find a way out. I can’t go forward, I can’t go back, and I can’t let them catch me. I’ve only got a split second to react, to do something, anything – I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got to–

  Chapter Ten

  A week has passed since I first managed to shift at will, and it gets easier with every attempt. The blackouts and headaches are still a feature, but the nausea is thankfully a thing of the past. The white coats theorise that my body has simply gotten used to the sensation of shifting. Apparently, they have a theory about the headaches and blackouts as well, which they’re keen to “discuss” with me this morning. I’m headed there now, on my shiny new motorcycle, courtesy of AbGen (since, although I can shift at will, I still can’t control where I end up, so it’s not really practical for commuting.) I turned down their offer of a flat closer to Langford House, partly because the idea of them having that much control of my life creeps me out, and partly through a desire to cling to something familiar in all of this craziness.

  I quit my job at the restaurant, of course – though it was hard not being able to tell them what I was really doing. I gave them the thin cover story concocted by Scott, which Lloyd had swallowed whilst muttering about having to find a replacement at short notice, but Janey eyed me suspiciously, hugged me fiercely and told me not to be a stranger – a promise there’s no way I can keep. Leading a secret life and having girly nights out just aren’t compatible, and keeping my secret has to take priority. Plus, who knows what shady world I’m getting involved in? It would be unforgivable to put Janey at risk for my own selfish reasons. I miss her like crazy, but AbGen have got me on such a hectic schedule that I haven’t had much time to feel lonely.

  Despite Scott’s best efforts, my feelings towards Gardiner haven’t warmed. Scott doesn’t get it, given everything the man has done for me, but it’s not something I can explain. I just don’t trust him. Every time I think of him, I see the look on his face the first day we met. I guess it’s true what they say: first impressions count. I try to keep him from my thoughts and focus on the positives instead, like my gorgeous new motorbike. No speeding tickets, so far, which is another positive.

  I pull into AbGen’s car park and leave my bike next to Scott’s, then make my way through security into Langford House. The armed guard who had terrified me only a couple of weeks ago now seems like part of the scenery: I barely bat an eyelid other than to nod a greeting. His name’s Joe and he’s actually a nice guy, once you get past the gun and the creepy tattoo. It turns out he got it as a dare during his military days. He’s not much older than me, but he has a wife at home who gave birth to a boy a couple of months ago. Joe carries photos of mother and bab
y in his wallet, which he proudly shows to anyone who asks. I find it hard to believe that Mrs Joe is entirely okay with his career choice, but that said, I understand that AbGen’s generosity extends to all of its employees, and this has got to be a whole lot safer than being deployed in the Middle East. And it can’t hurt what with Joe being a mind reader, which I imagine must come in handy for sensing when visitors have an ulterior motive. It takes a lot of focus apparently, and honing in on a specific person’s thoughts leaves him drained, but still.... way cooler than erratic shifting.

  I check in with Nora behind her bullet-proof glass – Nora, of course, is his handler, I don’t know how I didn’t spot it before – and then duck into the lift, heading up to the rec room to lose my helmet and leathers. When I step through the doors, Scott is already waiting for me. I spare a quick glance at the clock on the wall: nope, not late. He’s obviously angling for employee of the month.

  “Morning, Anna,” he greets me with a genuine smile.

  “Morning,” I return the greeting, stripping off my leathers and carefully placing my helmet inside my locker. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

  “Another exciting day of physical training,” he says with entirely too much mirth – he knows how I feel about working out. “But first things first – we need to get you down to the lab before the techs explode with excitement about their latest idea.”

  “That good, huh?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, because truth be told I have a hard time visualising the lab guys getting excited about anything except superhero movies.

  A few minutes later, we push through the doors into the lab. Toby almost leaps from his seat when he sees us; Scott clearly wasn’t exaggerating about how excited he was about this revelation of his. Two more white coats join us, though I notice Dr Pearce isn’t here – apparently he’s not so excited about this discovery.

  “Hi, Toby.”

  “Hey Anna,” he says, and then a quarter second later: “What’s the one thing you’ve wanted since the day you got to AbGen?”

  “You mean you’ve managed to build me a jet-pack?” I gush with mock enthusiasm.

  Toby’s face falls momentarily.

  “Uh– I could probably build you a jet-pack,” he rushes with a nervous swallow, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I mean, it can’t be that hard, you’d need to give me a few days, but I think I–”

  “Anna…” Scott interrupts him reproachfully, shooting me a disapproving look.

  “I’m sorry, Toby,” I say, and mean it. It’s easy to forget that these guys don’t get out of the lab much. “I was only joking. You know the only thing I want is to be rid of these blackouts.”

  “In that case, I’m your man,” he says, his face lighting up again.

  “Seriously? You’ve found a way to stop them?”

  One of the white coats behind Toby elbows him, and he amends his statement.

  “We might have found a way. But we need to run a few tests first.”

  “I’m game,” I say, with a quick glance at Scott to make sure I’ve got time before the PT session from hell – scheduling never was my strong suit. He doesn’t raise any objections.

  “Okay then, this way please, m’lady,” Toby says, gallantly sweeping his arm in the direction of the EM shielded room. I lift the hem of an imaginary dress and curtsey, then lead the five of us into the tiny room.

  “Tadaa!” he announces, producing an innocuous-looking white pill.

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure there are rules about taking magic pills at work.”

  “Ha ha.” This time apparently my sense of humour isn’t wasted on him. “But seriously, Anna, this might be the answer you’ve been looking for. How much do you know about how your ability actually works?”

  “I get scared, panic, and wake up some place else with a headache.”

  “Well, yes, that’s true,” he says, “but biologically speaking, it’s a little more complex than that. When your body gets ready to shift, it dumps an enormous amount of epinephrine – adrenaline – into your system, which in turn burns through your body’s glucose reserves in order to generate the EM pulse and shift. We’re not sure if the EM pulse is a side effect of the shift, or vice versa, but either way it completely depletes your blood sugar levels and leaves you hypoglycaemic. The hypoglycaemia causes the blackout, and it’s responsible for your headaches when you regain consciousness, which doesn’t happen until your body compensates and your blood sugar levels start to climb again.”

  His explanation seems long winded and overly complex, and leaves a frown on my face as I attempt to decipher it. His face is lit up with excitement and he’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waits for me to catch up.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I manage after a moment. “I just need more sugar?”

  He nods, looking extremely proud of himself. I can’t blame him; I’m pretty impressed.

  “How does it work?”

  “Okay, so this–” he gestures to the pill, “–is actually just a glucose pill. You chew it thoroughly, and then wait ten minutes for it to get into your bloodstream. Elliot made this one. It’s more potent than the over-the-counter varieties, so you should only need one.”

  Behind him, Elliot beams with pride at the acknowledgement. These guys are clearly starved of attention. I make a mental note to send them some chocolates.

  “Now hopefully,” Toby continues, apparently keen to get my attention back, “it means that your body’s going to have enough glucose to help you shift, without draining your reserves and leaving you unconscious. It might take a little trial and error to get the dosage right, though.”

  Behind him, Elliot nods, and adds in his own warning.

  “You should bear in mind that you don’t want to take this more than half an hour before you’re planning on shifting – otherwise your body will release insulin to cope with all the excess sugar, and you’re going to end up worse off than you started.”

  “Okay then, let’s do it,” I say, and chew the pill. Elliot and the other technician spend the next ten minutes fussing around, getting me equipped with the tracker and making sure it’s set up with the computer in the next room, while Toby checks his watch every few seconds. When I’m certain I can’t stand it a moment longer, he finally gives me the nod.

  “Okay, that’s ten minutes, and the computer’s set. Whenever you’re ready, Anna.”

  I nod and settle back in my chair, closing my eyes and allowing the feeling of terror to build, until I can’t stand to be here, I’ve got to move, I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got to–

  I stagger, and reach my hand out to the wall – and that’s when I realise I’m not in the lab any more, and neither am I on the floor unconscious.

  “It worked,” I gasp. It’s official: Toby is a genius. I’m going to owe him more than chocolates for this one. I take a moment to get my breath and do a mental inventory. My head is pounding but it’s bearable. The nausea is back but mild compared to when I first shifted. I feel a little dizzy, but all things considered, if this is the trade-off for not blacking out, I’ll take it.

  I look around, glad as always that my erratic talent has dumped me somewhere away from prying eyes, although yet again I have no idea where I am. There’s a lot of grey around me – smooth grey walls, grey asphalt floor, high spiked railings with the paint faded to expose bare metal. The only traces of colour are the weeds growing through the cracks. It looks like I’m outside an abandoned warehouse; a smashed window suggests that the only people who come out this way are kids. I pull out my phone to check in with Scott, and see that it’s still rebooting itself. Right, because of the EM pulse. That’s going to get old. Luckily the tracker around my wrist is shielded, so hopefully Scott is already on his way.

  When the nausea fades to a tolerable level, I start walking around the edge of the compound, looking for a way out. The flat spiked railings are so close together that I can’t see what’s beyond them: I squint through a gap but see o
nly green foliage. After a few minutes I find the gate – at least, I assume it’s the gate – a hole has been cut in the rails and a chain fed through it. I pull the chain but something blocks its progress. I give it another yank but am rewarded with nothing more than a louder rattle. Another squint tells me it’s a padlock, and it looks like it’s securely locked. Not that it would matter anyway, since I can’t get my hand through the gap to release it. Just typical. What sort of stupid talent leaves me trapped inside a locked yard? If I had any sort of control over this, I could just shift back to Langford House and save all this messing around – but I guess that would actually be useful. With a stamp of my foot, I let go of the chain and stare up at the grey sky above me. Looks like I’m just going to have to sit here and wait to be rescued.

  Sitting still isn’t work for me, so I pace around the courtyard some more, pondering why exactly it is that I can’t control where I shift to. After all, the first time I shifted, I wound up back at my flat, and that was pretty specific. But since then…. It’s completely unpredictable. The playing field, that alley two towns over, and a whole host of places since there. None of them have anything in common. But there has to be some way that my body is selecting these places – surely it can’t just be completely random?

  I pull my phone out of my pocket again, just to keep my hands busy, and see that it is starting to come to life. The screen lights up and the signal bars reluctantly flash up. Immediately, it rings. The display flashes up Jaqen H’ghar, which is what I have Scott’s number programmed as. I hit answer and take the call.

  “Hey, Scott, what’s up?”

  “Anna, you’re alright. Thank God.” He covers the mouthpiece and speaks to someone, and I frown at the relief in his tone. It’s not like him to get flustered.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him, working to keep the confusion out of my voice and failing. I want to ask him why I wouldn’t be, but I don’t want to sound defensive, so I move to a more pressing issue. “How far away are you? It looks like rain.” I glance down at my cotton t-shirt doubtfully and try to remember what the weather had been like when I pulled up at Langford House this morning. Scott doesn’t answer my question.