SHARD: Book One of The Shard Trilogy (A YA Sci-fi Teens with Powers Series)

by A. M. Pierre

  The three of them looked at each other in stunned silence and then burst out laughing. Well, Mikaël, predictably, wasn’t making a whole lot of noise, but his shoulders were shaking as much as the other two, and his smile stretched from ear-to-ear. Vladimir wiped a few tears from his eyes before he spoke. “Do not be worrying about something silly like that.”

  “Silly? What do you . . . Silly?” Kaia shook her head. “I hurt you—all three of you! That’s not something you should be laughing about.”

  “Seriously,” Dice said between giggles, “don’t worry about it. It was an accident, and no one was hurt bad enough for it to be worth mentioning. You’re learning how to control one of the building blocks of nature. It happens. You should hear Connor’s training story.”

  “I don’t know that mine is all that interesting,” Connor said. “All I did was start a tornado that sucked all the air out of the room. Fortunately for all present, it stopped once I passed out.”

  “See, Kaia? It happens.” Dice picked up a piece of pizza but stopped before it got to his mouth. “Oh, I almost forgot! Ms. Smith asked me to tell everyone she will be away on Company business until tomorrow evening at the earliest.”

  Kaia raised her hand like she was in school. “Will everyone be back by then? Ezio and Alizée, I mean. They went on their mission, right?”

  “To answer your first question, they may. To answer your second, they did.” Dice rubbed his hands together. “With them gone, the rest of us have downtime until they return. It also means I am in charge of morning wake-up duties.”

  Everyone at the table except Kaia groaned. Even Mikaël made a sound of annoyance. “What?” Kaia asked. “What’s so bad about that?”

  “Ignore them, Kaia.” Dice took a bite of pizza and talked through the cheese. “They don’t have any class.”

  * * *

  Daisuke waved happily as Kaia padded into the dining room the next day. “Morning! Sleep well?”

  She ignored him and shuffled over to her seat. “What on earth woke me up?”

  “That would be speck trimmer,” Connor said.

  “It’s pronounced Sprechstimme,” Daisuke corrected.

  “Whatever.” Connor’s expression was tinged with boyish glee—probably at the thought of Kaia leaping up in alarm when the music scared her half to death. “It’s a German singing style, which is honestly all I remember from the ‘informational seminar’ Dice gave after we threatened to delete all his music files. It’s ‘artistic’ and ‘edgy,’ and it sounds like someone strangling a particularly shrill cat. Given that Dice likes to play it at levels usually reserved for rock concerts, we all get to start the day with a minor heart attack.”

  “You’re so uncultured.” Daisuke crossed his arms. “Besides, it’s not like there’s a ton of acceptable music I can play. Do you all want to be brainwashed?”

  “What is he talking about?” Kaia asked.

  Connor had a resigned look on his face. Vladimir sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Mikaël stuck his fingers in his ears. Gabriela held up her hands. “No, Kaia, please don’t—”

  Daisuke wasn’t about to be shushed. The truth had to be told. “What I’m talking about are the myriads of subliminal messages pumped into our heads through the music we listen to everyday. Most people listen to their favorite music tracks over and over and over again. Did you ever stop to wonder why?”

  Kaia hesitated. “Because they like them?”

  “The same 4 minutes of sound, dozens of times, without getting tired of it? I don’t buy it. It’s the messages they’ve hidden in the music that keep you listening.”

  Kaia’s forehead wrinkled. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would musicians tell you to keep listening to the same song? You’d never buy any more of their music.”

  “You’d be right if that were the only message they hid.” Groans started around the table, but Daisuke continued on undeterred. “You see, there’s also a secondary level, and the music producers sell the space to anyone who wants inside a consumer’s brain. It could be fast food companies making you crave a burger or governments nudging you to pay your taxes or even other singers suggesting you buy their music, too. Selling all that premium message space is how the music labels have stayed in business for so long.”

  Kaia stared at him for a moment. “You seem to have a lot of conspiracy theories.”

  Daisuke shrugged. “That’s only because there are a lot of conspiracies.”

  Connor nudged Kaia with his elbow. “You should ask him about his emergency bunkers. I’m willing to bet he’s the only 14-year-old in the world who has his very own bomb shelters.”

  Daisuke scowled. “They’re not bomb shelters. That’s so narrow-minded. My bunkers are stocked and provisioned in the event of any disaster—natural, man-made, or otherwise—that might befall us.”

  “And what, exactly, might fall into the realm of ‘otherwise’ that isn’t covered by the two categories of natural and man-made? Alien invasion, perhaps?” Connor looked like he was about to crack up any second.

  Daisuke gave him a hard look then pointed his finger at each person seated at the table in turn. “You all laugh right now, but wait until the next tornado or hurricane hits. You’ll all be begging to come stay with me.”

  “You’re absolutely right. And the next time a hurricane hits Paris, I will be first in line to let you say ‘I told you so.’” Connor seemed to have mastered the chuckles he had been suppressing but was still grinning like an idiot.

  “Oh, forget it.” Daisuke flopped back in his seat and crossed his arms. It wasn’t his problem if they all lacked vision. It’s called “preparing for the unexpected” because it’s not expected. If you only prepare for the stuff you think might happen, you won’t be prepared for the things you never see coming. That’s just common sense.

  Kaia hesitantly spoke up. “So, what do you all normally do on a free day like this?”

  “Whatever we want.” Gabriela smiled. “Relax and enjoy yourself.”

  * * *

  No matter how hard Kaia tried, she couldn’t relax. No matter what she did—what game she played, what book she read, what TV show she watched—her mind wouldn’t stop turning. She lay on her bed, perfectly still, but her brain was running laps around the room. It had started the evening before, after she had found out today would be a free day. No tests to be nervous about. No difficult elemental exercises to think about. With those two main concerns gone, her mind had drifted to other things, and it had drifted smack into a thought that had made her heart skip a beat: she had never called home.

  “Home” was probably being generous, but that was still how she found herself referring to the foster home where she lived. Her interrogator at the airport said he had called her school and the French foreign exchange family, but he never said he had called her foster parents.

  She had promised to call the Johnsons as soon as she landed and again when she was settled with her new family. And now days had passed, and she hadn’t called, not even once. Besides not wanting them to call the police about her, she didn’t want them thinking she was irresponsible. She knew they didn’t love her, but up until now she had still had their respect. The thought of losing that, too, had sent her stomach flipping over on itself.

  How could she do it, though? Kaia hadn’t seen any phones since she arrived. She figured it was all part of their “no contact with the outside world” policy. One of the other kids had to know where a phone was, though. She’d been trying all day to work up the courage to ask one of them to help her, but which one? Dice? He was the de facto leader for the day, so he probably wouldn’t be too keen on breaking the rules he was supposed to be enforcing. Vladimir? He seemed like a big teddy bear who would do whatever he could to help a friend, but he also seemed too straight-arrow to be any good at sneaking around. Mikaël? Kaia might ask him the question, but somehow she wa
s pretty sure he wouldn’t answer. Gabriela? She’d probably be glad to help, but Kaia doubted she’d be able to keep her mouth shut about it for long. Which left . . . Kaia sighed. Great. Just great. She left her room and went looking for Connor.

  She found him eating chips in front of the biggest TV in the rec room. She walked up behind the couch and tapped him on the shoulder. “Um, Connor?”

  He jumped enough that the chips went slightly airborne, but not enough that they went flying out of the bowl. “Sorry, you startled me. What is it, Kaia?”

  She sat in the chair next to the couch. “I have a small favor to ask. Actually, you might not think it’s small at all. Or you might. I don’t know. It’s a favor, let’s leave it at that.”

  Connor’s dimple was showing even though it looked like he was trying not to smile. “You are asking me for a favor? What brought on this amazing turn of events?”

  “It’s just,” she tugged at her necklace, “I thought you might be the best person for it.”

  He looked at her sideways with half-shut eyes. “I must admit I’m intrigued and suspicious all at the same time. What’s the favor?”

  “It’s . . . I need to . . .” It’s only six words: “I need to use a phone.”’ Six. That’s it. So why can’t I spit them out? “I need to . . . what are you watching?”

  Connor stared. “Your favor is that you need to know what I’m watching?”

  “No, it’s a separate question.” And asking it buys me a couple of seconds to get my nerve up.

  “It’s just one of those old ‘unstoppable villain’ movies.”

  Kaia gave him a questioning look.

  “You know, the ones with the alien hordes that outnumber the heroes a million to one or the killer robots that just keep coming and coming.” He shrugged. “It may sound silly, but I like the idea of people who keep going, who survive no matter what because they’re too stubborn to die.”

  Kaia wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know, don’t those movies have some of the good guys die in the end?”

  “Sometimes, yes.”

  “So . . . they didn’t survive. They died.”

  Connor frowned. “Well, yes, but it’s usually because they sacrifice themselves so those they love can win. Any story that ends with love and determination beating a relentless embodiment of evil is ace in my book.” He turned back in his seat and stared at the screen. “Weren’t you saying something about a favor?”

  “I need to use a phone.” She jumped a little, surprised at how easily it had come out.

  He turned his head to look at her with a studied expression. “I don’t mean to pry, but who would you be ringing? Most of us don’t have anyone on the outside who we would want to phone or, quite frankly, who would want us to phone them.”

  “I need to call the Johnsons.”

  “You know I could get in major trouble for doing something like that. Ms. Smith has very strict rules about when and how contact with the outside world is permitted.”

  Kaia looked away. “I figured.”

  “So, I guess it’s very good for you I’m a complete idiot who doesn’t mind getting verbally mutilated by angry ladies on vid screens.”

  Kaia looked back at him. “Are you serious?”

  He stood up and started walking. “Follow me.”

  * * *

  Connor stood guard at the end of the hall while Kaia used the phone. Despite his natural curiosity, Connor wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He still knew what was being said, though.

  Kaia hadn’t told anyone the details of her background yet, nor should she have to. Still, the whole scenario was fairly easy to figure out. She had mentioned foster parents before. While it was possible that had been a temporary arrangement, she was ringing “the Johnsons”—people who weren’t close enough to be called anything other than their surname. Conclusion? Kaia still lived in a foster home.

  Kaia had only been talking for a couple of minutes, but Connor knew it wasn’t going well. He wasn’t a lip reader, but faces were another matter. When she had first picked up the phone, she had looked like a puppy hoping someone would pat its head. That hadn’t lasted long. Right now, Kaia’s face was talking loud and clear.

  Rejection. Rejection, disappointment, and resignation, all in a glance.

  Connor had a couple more guesses, as well. That Kaia had told “the Johnsons” she would phone when she landed. That Kaia hadn’t phoned, since it’s kind of hard to do so while being arrested and kidnapped. So Kaia phoned now, desperate to alleviate their concerns so they could stop worrying. Only they hadn’t been worried.

  Kaia slowly put the handset down. Her shoulders started to shake, and one hand slid up to rub her eyes. Connor didn’t particularly like comforting a crying girl when he knew full well there was nothing he could do to fix it, but he liked sitting back and doing nothing even less.

  He walked toward her, but what to do once he got there . . . She might freak out if I try to give her a hug, but would a simple pat on the back be enough? It might look like I don’t care at all, and that’s not true. I know that pain. I know how much I would’ve liked to have had someone comfort me back then, to tell me it was going to be all right, even if I had known deep down it was a lie.

  After another moment’s indecision, Connor took a step forward to stand next to her, then wrapped one arm around her back and squeezed her shoulder in a sideways half hug. It wasn’t much, but he hoped it was enough.

  She didn’t lean into him, but she didn’t pull away, either. She just stood there, crying. Connor just stood there, too. He had nothing to offer—no handkerchief, no pithy words of advice, no comfort at all outside of a half-hearted shoulder squeeze. All that came to mind were two words. Two words that could never be enough.

  He said them anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  The corner of her mouth curled up, acknowledging his effort. “It’s not your fault. Thank you for helping me make the call.”

  Connor grimaced. Right. It was my oh-so-helpful nature that started this fiasco. An idea struck him. Ms. Smith would probably kill him, but it would be worth it. “Come with me,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”

  * * *

  Kaia kept her eyes closed like Connor had asked, but, even with his hand to guide her, she still felt like she was going to crash into something. And despite how long I’ve been bumbling along, we still haven’t set foot outside. How big a building do they need for only eight kids?

  The beginning of this little expedition had been completely silent, but then she had started hearing murmurs in the distance. Now, the murmurs were turning into voices—dozens of strange voices. Some spoke French or English, but she heard other languages, too—so many she couldn’t begin to sort them out. She almost opened her eyes in spite of herself, but she remembered her promise and kept them shut tight.

  She nearly bumped into Connor before she realized he’d stopped walking. “Wait here a second,” he whispered, so close to her ear it startled her. “I want to give this big group a chance to move on.”

  She was still running through possible scenarios that would explain all of this when Connor gently pulled on her hand again. “A couple more steps . . . there. Open your eyes.”

  Kaia opened her eyes . . . and let her jaw drop. She was standing in a long hallway that felt as long as a football field. Paintings covered the tall arched ceiling, and elaborate gold-covered trim surrounded each painting in turn. Large crystal chandeliers hung at regular intervals down the middle of the hall and both sides as well. Carved golden stands lined the walls and held additional lighting in the form of small yet intricate crystal candelabras. The walls themselves were made of marble of every color, cut and carved and pieced together—as were the many towering arches lining the hall. But that wasn’t the most impressive thing.

  Each massive arch sheltered multiple panes of glass. To Kaia’s right, they for
med huge windows which looked out onto an enormous landscaped field filled with meticulously tended gardens, marble statues, and fountains. On her left, mirrors matched the windows on her right exactly, as if to make an illusion of walking down a hallway between two magnificent gardens.

  Kaia knew now why they hadn’t wanted her to go wandering around before. Why they’d insisted she would know where she was.

  Kaia knew exactly where she was.

  She was in the Hall of Mirrors.

  She was in the Palace of Versailles.

  “You did WHAT?”

  “Keep your voice down, will you?” Connor glanced around him, obviously wanting to keep his little excursion a secret.

  “No, I won’t keep my voice down,” Daisuke said. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking we needed to show we care, seeing as how earlier today the people who were supposed to care basically ditched her. I know it’s against protocol and regulations and whatever else you want to quote me, but I also know I did the right thing. She needs us, Dice, and keeping her locked up isn’t going to help her see that.”

  Daisuke gave him a hard look. “Needs us, or needs you?”

  “For Pete’s sake, can’t I be nice to a girl without you assuming I want to date her, too?”

  “I am not assuming. I am hypothesizing based on facts in hand.”

  “Well, stop hypothesizing, then. Either that or get some new facts.” Connor crossed his arms. “I’m not sorry I did it.”

  “You will be once Ms. Smith finds out. You’re going to be on pins and needles until she does, too. Never knowing when the hammer’s going to drop. Which is why—”

  Connor wasn’t listening any more. He was muttering to himself. “You’re right. Better to put it out there. I’m going to tell everybody else right now, and then I’ll tell Her Evil Highness as soon as I see her.” He walked towards the rec room.

  Daisuke jogged to catch up. “Whoa, that wasn’t what I was going to say at all. If you’d let me finish, I was going to say, ‘Which is why we convince Kaia to keep it a secret, and, when she finally gets permission to leave, she pretends to be incredibly surprised.’”