by Sophie Davis
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” I whispered.
“Commander Byrnes and his team will be ready at four a.m. I want you all in North Carolina by sunrise.” Mac hugged me, and I reluctantly reciprocated.
Back in my room, I had little time to mull over my new assignment. The light on my communicator was flashing and I gratefully pushed it, assuming it would be Erik. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I was wrong.
“Hey, Talia, its Anya. A couple of us were getting together for dinner tomorrow, wanted to see if you were interested. Same place as last time? Send me a comm back if that works.”
I stood frozen in the middle of the hotel room. She had the blood results. Anya knew what was wrong with me. Sure, her message didn’t hint at that, but we weren’t actually friends and she wasn’t really calling to invite me to hang out. The only reason for her to call was the blood work.
Eagerly, I sent her a quick message, confirming I would meet her at five. That would give me plenty of time to get back from my dreaded mission in North Carolina and make it out to the food court and back by curfew, I thought.
No sooner had I sent the message than Erik finally appeared at my door for the first time that day. Exhaustion deepened the shadows under his eyes. No trace of humor or excitement sparked life in his irises. They were dull and flat. He was in a foul mood. Disgust and despair seeped from his pores, making the air in the room feel oppressive. The acrid smell of burnt chemicals and death stung my nose when I hugged him, nearly choking me.
Erik said nothing when he grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the bed. Agitation made him restless and distant; I didn’t need a mental connection to read his thoughts. I hated seeing him this way. He was always so strong: the rock that kept me steady, the gravity that kept me grounded. My chest ached as I watched the horrible images of the destruction at Rittenhouse float through his head. I wanted to help him, make him feel better, ease the tension, as he’d done for me countless times before.
I easily took control of his mind, filling his head with calm, happy images: the lake at Headquarters, with its glass smooth surface; the rock ledge at school where you could see over three states and it seemed as though you could touch the stars; the pebble beach in Capri where I’d played as a child. The rigidness slowly ebbed from his muscles and he sighed contentedly. His lids became heavy and I watched as they fluttered before closing completely.
“No fair. You’re manipulating me,” he mumbled, but a smile tugged at his lips. He’d come here hoping I would do just that.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Nope, just keep sending those happy thoughts my way.”
I built the stage and crafted the set with my mind and Erik wrote and directed the mental play. Soon our scenarios melded together and I was fairly confident I would never be able to go swimming without blushing again. After a time, he no longer needed my help to relax. He lay peaceful and serene on his back, one arm bent behind his head and the other wrapped lazily around my waist.
“Erik,” I began tentatively, “have you talked to Mac today?” His serenity evaporated like water on a hot summer’s day. I wanted to kick myself. I should have waited to bring up unpleasant topics.
“Yeah, this morning when he came to tell me that I was going to Bethesda,” Erik replied tightly.
“Did he tell you about tomorrow?” I asked, crossing my fingers that Mac had saved me the uncomfortable task.
“Yes,” Erik answered shortly.
His mind was open and I could see him reliving the conversation. It had gone about as well as mine had. Erik had also argued with Mac about the legalities of “retrieving” such a young child. Like with me, Mac had reiterated the need for discretion and the importance of obtaining a potentially powerful Talent. Mac had left out one salient detail of the mission during my briefing, however. Howard’s Knob was the same place the Agency had “retrieved” Erik from.
“Are you serious?” I gasped, forgetting that Erik hadn’t willingly shared that detail with me.
“Tals, I really don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ve had an awful day.”
“But, Erik, it’s unfair to send you back there. He can’t expect for you to relive what happened to your mother,” I said, indignant on his behalf.
“That’s exactly why he’s doing it. Just let it go, please,” he urged me, squeezing my waist a little tighter to emphasize his point.
I didn’t want to let it go. Mac was crossing all sorts of boundaries these days and this was just one too many for me. He was baiting Erik into doing something stupid and it made me furious. Worse, it was my fault. If Erik weren’t involved with me, then Mac would leave him alone, but instead, Mac was purposely putting him in uncomfortable situations and testing his loyalty to Toxic. I wanted to march back up to Mac’s room and tell him I would go alone. I dreaded the mission, but I would have much rather gone alone than make Erik relive the tragic death of his mother.
I silently fumed, growing angrier by the second. My mistrust in Mac grew to loathing. My hands twitched, and I fisted them at my sides to keep from striking a pillow while I envisioned it was Mac’s face. How could he do this? I knew he was cold, but I never thought him cruel – until now.
My “silent” stewing must not have been so quiet because soon, Erik was rubbing my back and making soothing noises like one does to a crying child. The fury instantly turned to guilt. He was the one who’d had a lousy day. He was the one who deserved comforting. He shouldn’t have to take care of me, worry about me. I’d spent the day in my room, gorging myself on chocolate cake and painting my nails.
“Your nails look pretty,” he offered, holding one of my hands close to his face so he could examine my work. “What else did you do today?” he asked, trying to distract me. Normally my one track mind wouldn’t have been so easily derailed, but something about the nail painting reminded me of Anya.
“Anya called. She wants to meet for dinner tomorrow,” I sent back, the excitement from earlier brightening my mood.
“She did? Did she find something?” Erik asked hopefully, crushing my fingers in his own fervor.
“She didn’t say. Just said she wanted to meet at the same place. I sent her back a comm saying we’d be there at five. Didn’t she call you, too?” I’d been a little surprised by her message since I’d assumed when the time came, she’d call Erik since she was his friend, not mine.
“Nah, but she probably didn’t want to upset you,” he replied. Upset me? So she knew we’d fought over her.
“Did you tell her that I was jealous?” I sat up, staring at his still closed eyes while trying to suppress the bitterness at his betrayal. How could he talk about me to her? That was supposed to be private. I didn’t want the whole Agency thinking I was psycho jealous. I’d never cared whether other people liked me and I still didn’t. But there was a significant difference between dislike and crazy. And I knew if Anya told people, they’d think I was nuts.
“Tal, it’s not like that.” He pulled me back against his side, “She noticed how agitated you were when we met on Monday, so I just told her that the medication puts you on edge. You weren’t exactly hiding your feelings.” Erik ran his fingers up and down my spine soothingly.
Slightly mollified, I relaxed into him. He had a point. I hadn’t tried to conceal my discomfort. My jealous streak was bad enough, but now a girl I barely knew had picked up on it. Maybe I seriously did need a higher dosage of my medication, after all.
Erik stiffened, and his hand stilled on my back. “Are you really thinking of calling Dr. Thistler?” he asked.
When I met his disbelieving gaze, I hesitated before answering. “Well, yeah, I thought about it. I mean, we fight constantly and it’s my fault. I get so upset over stupid stuff. I just thought that maybe the equalizer was too weak. If she upped my meds, then maybe I’ll be able to control myself better,” I said weakly.
Erik hated the idea. “I’d rather you didn’t,” he said
slowly. His words were measured, the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he tried to remain calm.
“Wouldn’t you rather I be sane?” I teased, trying to ease the mounting tension.
“You are sane. You’re just a little emotional, but I’d rather that than the alternative.”
“The alternative? The alternative is that I act like a rational human being, that I don’t lose my temper and yell at you all the time,” I pointed out.
“I don’t like the yelling, but I do love how passionate you are. I like the way you react when I touch you. I like the intensity between us. If that means I take the good with the bad, well, that’s fine. When I talked to you in the days after the sentencing, it pained me how empty you sounded. I don’t want you dull and uncaring. Promise me you won’t call her, at least until we talk to Anya again.”
“Are you sure?” I asked hesitantly. “Are you sure you won’t rather that I be more subdued?”
“Positive. If you were more subdued then you wouldn’t get all hot and bothered when I did this.” Erik slid his free hand up the front of my shirt and I gasped. He rolled me on my back and brought his mouth to mine. I parted my lips; his tongue slide into my mouth, and I ran my fingers through his hair. He was right. Subdued would be no fun at all.
After a make-out session that left us both wanting more, but also feeling better about my decision not to call Dr. Thistler, we spent the next several hours discussing the possibilities of what we would find out from Anya. For so long, my medical condition had been a point of concern and it still was, but tomorrow, we might finally have some answers. Whether her news was good or bad, I didn’t much care. I just wanted to know.
Ever since I learned about Donavon’s blood donation, I felt as though I were living in a bubble. Mac allowed certain people and specific information to cross the invisible barrier, but for the most part, I was isolated. Half-truths and thinly veiled lies had become the norm and I was fed up. I craved the truth, the whole story, and I hoped that Anya could give that to me.
Before long, I was inexplicably tired, considering I’d slept all day. Erik promised to stay until I fell asleep, even though he needed rest worse than I did and that was saying something. I succumbed to darkness with the thought that no matter what happened in North Carolina tomorrow morning, by nightfall, I would finally know what was really wrong with me.
Chapter Twenty
The atmosphere was strained when I dragged myself to meet Graham Byrnes and his men at ten of four the next morning. Naturally, I was the last to arrive; Cadence and Erik were already armed and ready along with Graham’s team. Whether it was the early hour or the fact that the others shared my distaste for being sent to collect a four year old child, I couldn’t be sure, but nobody spoke.
The streets of D.C. looked much as they had when we headed off to Pennsylvania, except lonelier and more imposing since the moon was the only source of illumination besides the SUV’s headlights. Graham didn’t insist I sit in the co-pilot’s seat on the flight, so I stayed with Erik, our fingers tightly laced. Darkness shrouded Erik’s haunted thoughts in thick shadows; I hated seeing him this way. Even worse, I hated there was nothing I could do about it. No one else knew him as I did, so the others didn’t pick up on his uncharacteristically quiet and tense demeanor. Cadence gave us a couple blurry-eyes glances, but even she didn’t comment.
Under different circumstances, I might’ve tried to read her mind and gauge her reaction to the situation, but today, I didn’t care. I only cared about Erik. The closer we got to North Carolina, the further Erik drifted from me. Memories of his mother and his childhood dominated the space between his ears. While I wanted him to know I was there for him, I also didn’t want to intrude. I settled for tracing the blue web of veins that bulged against the whiteness of his hand. It was hard for me to tell if he even registered my presence, but the pressure on my palm never decreased.
When we finally touched down, just an hour after takeoff, in a town Graham informed us was called Boone, North Carolina, the sun was just starting to peak on the horizon. Boone was a small town that had once played host to a University, but was now a well-known sanctuary for people attempting to live off of the grid. We encountered no human life at the early hour as we climbed into the two waiting SUVs and made our way in search of the road that would take us even further up the mountain into Howard’s Knob.
The entrance was tucked behind an abandon strip mall that still had signs for a place called Harris Teeter. Graham deftly navigated the windy road, our car climbing higher and higher into the mountains. My ears popped uncomfortably several times on account of the higher altitude. Graham had insisted the mission was so potentially dangerous that I needed to carry not just a handgun, but a small arsenal of weapons. Instead of making me feel safer, the weapons made me uneasy and weighed down my small frame so much that I felt as though I were drowning.
Thirty minutes later, we finally pulled to a stop at the foot of a long, twisty drive that ostensibly led to a wooden cabin I could just make out in the distance. Graham instructed his men and Cadence to surround the perimeter, covering all vantage points. Then he directed me and Erik to use the driveway and make our way to the front door.
The steepness of the incline, combined with the thinner air, left me winded and gasping when we reached the top of the driveway. I paused to catch my breath before we climbed the ten wooden steps up to the porch.
I barricaded my mind from Erik’s. My nerves were frazzled, my stomach somersaulted, and I worried the added weight of his emotions might send me tumbling back down the mountain.
At the front door, I knocked softly and waited for a reply. None came. In retrospect, I hadn’t actually thought there would be since it was ungodly early. I looked at Erik for a clue as to how he wanted to proceed.
“They’re in there,” he sent. I opened my mind and felt the strong buzz of two distinct brain patterns. My stomach dropped to the porch. I’d been praying Mac’s intel was wrong and that the boy would not be a Talent. But my hopes were dashed when I felt the extremely strong pull of one of the minds.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Do you feel that?”
Erik nodded.
The pull was overwhelming. I felt as though the child’s powers were singing to me, like calling to like. I longed to go to the child, to be closer to him. The little telepath affected me in much the same way, except the boy inside the house was so much stronger. Next to me, Erik’s muscles thrummed with anticipation and I knew he felt the same way. But the anticipation was heavily laced with dread. We weren’t going to meet another powerful Talent. We were going to take a child away from his mother.
I tested the knob and it didn’t budge. I used my telekinesis to disengage the deadbolt and the safety chains and then eased the door open. Inside was a small, tidy living space. The room was decorated in dark greens and burgundies and all the furniture had wooden frames. A large stone fire place took up the left wall. To the right was an open kitchen with a wooden breakfast island and two wooden bar stools. An opened-back wooden staircase led from the main living space to a lofted area above. Both brain patterns were coming from the loft. The boy’s dominated, nearly masking his mother’s completely.
I glanced at Erik and he nodded toward the loft. He started for the stairs, his feet gliding soundlessly over the wooden floor. Erik drew a small handgun from the holster at his waist and held it securely in both hands. I should have done the same, but I couldn’t bring myself to. Following Erik, I clung to the wooden banister to steady knocking knees. At the top, there was a short hallway to the left with two bedrooms and a bathroom at the far end. The boy’s power shone like rays of golden light from underneath one of the doors guiding our way.
I held my breath, willing my head to stop spinning when Erik pushed the door open. Crouched on the floor, between two twin sized beds covered in oddly familiar hand woven quilts, was a pretty blonde woman not much older than me. Her arms were wrapped protectively around a small tow-headed boy wi
th milky blue eyes that refused to focus.
Thoughts of a different day, in a different bedroom, filled my head. I remembered the feel of glossy paper between my fingers. A picture of a small blonde boy stared up at me. He was younger in the photograph, but there was no denying that the same child sat in front of me now.
A strangled scream filled the room and I tripped over my feet as I shoved Erik aside in my haste to get inside. Erik lowered his gun and reached out an arm to steady me. I was aware of his fingers on my arm, but my eyes were glued to the boy. When I tried to move close, Erik stopped me.
“Natalia?” the blonde woman asked in a small, frightened voice. Her voice broke through my shock over seeing the child and an intense rage swelled in my chest.
“You,” I accused, raising one shaky index finger in her direction. Erik’s grip tightened, but I barely felt the bite over the adrenaline pumping fast and furious in my veins.
The room swirled around me and suddenly, I was standing in a different doorway, in a different cabin. Blonde hair spilled over the side of Donavon’s bed, the same blonde hair cascading down the shoulder of the woman crouched on the floor.
“No, no!” I screamed, the pain in my chest increasing exponentially.
The remembered photograph swam before my eyes once again. “Aww, you’re so cute here,” I heard myself say.
The pain in my bicep became too intense to ignore. My vision cleared and once again, I stared at the boy in the photograph. Except now, he was real and clutched in the arms of his mother. Understanding crashed over me in tsunami-sized waves. My knees buckled and I fought against the undertow threatening to pull me under.
Erik wrapped his arms around me from behind as he tried to stave off the inevitable disaster that would surely ensue if I didn’t gain control. Kandice’s eyes went wide with terror, but the faraway expression in the boy’s remained unchanged. The butt of Erik’s gun dug painfully into my spine as he squeezed me tighter.