Sightlines

by Santion Hassell

  Had she swapped his psy-sups for Flintstone vitamins, or was he losing his shit?

  “See you tomorrow, Shelby.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She left the room without ceremony, and he wondered if he’d just created an ally out of pure desperation. Not knowing when Elijah would be released was killing him. He’d been on edge all along, but now that he’d seen what they were doing to Elijah, he felt ready to come out of his skin. Especially since his father had yet to let him leave the cottage.

  The sound of footsteps outside his door drew his attention and sparked his hope. Usually, he was left alone until breakfast was served about an hour after his meds, and then the cycle of questions and counseling started. A full day of gaslighting all day every day. The Community special. No one ever dropped by before that routine because things never changed.

  But this time, someone stopped in front of his door. It was Richard who slipped into his room, wearing the same sharp suit he always wore but minus the tie. For Richard, that was seriously dressing down.

  “Can I finally do something useful?” Chase asked. “Because I’m pretty sure our agreement had been for me to work on Elijah, not be subjected to sixteen hours a day of—”

  “There was no agreement,” Richard said. “You’re lucky to be here and not in the silo with your boyfriend. Jasper doesn’t trust either of you.”

  “And I should give a fuck what Jasper thinks?”

  “Yes. He’s been an incredible asset to the Community, even if his methods aren’t easy to tolerate or understand. But he produces results.”

  Chase swallowed his disgust. “What results has he ever fucking produced with me?”

  At that, Richard looked at him sideways. “You’re here, aren’t you? Not off playing rebel like your brother. Or Six.”

  In that moment, Chase realized his father was seriously sold on his own crap. There had been times when Chase had listened and observed people in the Community, and wondered how they could talk so much bullshit without ever once having to wipe their mouths. He’d assumed they were all faking their devotion, lying about their beliefs and opinions with the sole purpose of either sucking up or not pissing off the wrong person and getting a concerned write-up and a trip for realignment. And for Richard, Chase had always assumed he was in this one hundred percent for the power.

  Now he had to wonder. Did Richard really see brainwashing as an effective tactic for instilling loyalty to the Community? Did he seriously not get how forcing Chase and Elijah to stay on the Farm was kidnapping and exploitation? Did Richard really regret not putting Holden in the same situation so he would never think of leaving either? It was amazing to think the person who was destroying the sanctity of the Community still thought it was the safest place for them all.

  Chase swallowed every response that sprang to his mind, and nodded slowly. “What am I doing today?”

  “You’re finding your place here.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you stop being my child. You stop being a tool to be utilized in a menial role. And you become part of this.”

  “And when you say ‘this’ . . .?”

  “Our future.” Richard turned to the door. “Get dressed and wash up. We have a lot to do.”

  Chase did as he was told, but all the while his mind was racing. This would be his chance to not only gather information about who else was being held on the Farm, but to learn how they’d revamped the security, and to get a chance at seeing Elijah. After that last vision, he desperately needed to.

  It was the first thing he wanted to demand upon meeting his father downstairs in the sitting room, but he held on to it. It had to look like his priority was the Community, and the operations that would lead them to progressing.

  “Things have changed since you last had run of the place,” Richard said once they were leaving the cottage together. “In the past, this place was primarily used for rehabilitation for troubled psys. Now it’s the main base of operations.”

  “I’m not too clear on what those operations are,” Chase said. “Because I see and hear a lot of little kids scampering around, and I have a hard time believing they’re next in line to join your ranks of covert operatives and super psys.”

  “Because you’re not thinking broadly enough.” They stepped out into the sunlight, and Chase took a deep breath of clean cold air. “Those children will be raised surrounded by members of the Community. Everything from their thought patterns to their responses will be shaped by their upbringing here.”

  “So, they’ll be good little robots for you to control,” Chase said shrewdly. When Richard only stared, he shook his head and asked, “Who’re the parents?”

  Richard looked out over the property, his gaze resting on the guesthouse before flicking to the cottage again. “Different people. We matched individuals based on ability. It’s a crudely designed operation, but until we have more technology—”

  “Wait, hold up.” Chase raised both hands as if in surrender, and stared at his father without hiding his shock. “You match people? What the fuck? Are you making this a nice safe place for psy families and staff, or are you crossbreeding psychics?”

  “Both,” Richard said crisply. “They’re not mutually exclusive. We provide a safe haven for those who volunteered to be part of this project.”

  “The project of . . . crossbreeding psychics.”

  “Yes. As I said, they gave their consent.”

  “Did they also give their consent to stay stoned out of their minds?” Chase demanded. “And speaking of, I didn’t give the go-ahead for that either. I don’t need the fucking psy-sups.”

  There wasn’t a hint of warmth on Richard’s face as he said, “You need them until I can be sure that you won’t defect or use your abilities to summon your brothers.”

  What a laugh. Chase wasn’t summoning a goddamn person until he knew what they were up against. What he was up against in his desire to free Elijah. Everything else could wait.

  When he appeared sure that Chase wasn’t going to ask another question, Richard nodded and began walking in the direction of the silo. He indicated the other buildings as they walked, flicking his fingers.

  “Families are kept in the cottage and the guesthouse,” Richard said. “Depending on ranking.”

  “Ranking, huh?” Chase squinted over at the guesthouse. “Any of those kids mini Richards?”

  “Would it matter to you if they were?”

  Chase didn’t think any of it mattered either way. They were all fucked. He shook his head, and they kept moving. Richard pointed out the names of guards and other staff, keeping a sharp eye on the people around them. If he didn’t trust his own staff, how could he ever trust Chase?

  Chase listened closely as Richard noted their medicine closet and kitchen, where they stocked goods and what the plan was in case of an emergency. The place wasn’t a working farm and it wasn’t self-sufficient, but they’d prepped for disaster.

  “And the silo,” Chase said after they circled the Farm and set eyes on everything and everyone who’d been out wandering. “Did you always want to use that for Jasper?”

  “It was his idea. He thought his research into multis and the more extreme realignment should be kept separate from the psy village I was trying to create.”

  “You take all of Jasper’s suggestions?” Chase asked. “Because I can tell you right now, honestly, that whatever plan you think you have to save us in the long term . . . having a motherfucker like that working for you will ruin everything.”

  “Without Jasper, there wouldn’t be anything to ruin.” Richard followed Chase’s gaze to the silo. “Not many people know much about Jasper, and he prefers it that way. Even though he was my original founding partner. Not Kyger or Hale. It was Jasper who suggested we organize and come together. It was him who saw the need for a way to protect ourselves against the voids. That was how this all started.”

  Chase looked away from the structure to focus on his father. “So, you�
��re saying this was always your goal? Creating a psy army?”

  Richard didn’t look away from the silo as he said, “Yes.”

  Nothing had ever been how it’d seemed. That much was certain. What wasn’t certain was how much the rest of the Community, especially the other founders, knew about Richard’s plans. And about Jasper’s existence.

  As Chase walked the “village,” it was hard not to consider how long this plan must have taken to create and then put into action. This wasn’t just a couple of madmen rounding up powerful psys to experiment on them and research their powers to absorb them or breed them—this really was an entirely different world.

  Chase had never been sold on the CW being a haven, because he’d seen where misbehaving psy kids wound up. But the Farm? Whole new ball game. There were more staff members than he remembered there being—medical staff, cooks, maintenance, and of course the mysterious people who worked in the silo. And they were all members of the Community. People who’d given up their life to exist on this Farm and help to create a perfect generation of psy babies.

  And there was no doubt these kids were powerful. Chase could see himself in the toddlers, the kids, and the preteens. The eyes that glowed a little too long, the perceptive way they glanced at him, and the way pairs sat around together and looked at each other without speaking.

  Richard had taken Chase to observe the children during one of their “lessons” in the main house’s great room, and it seemed to consist of the children finding ways to communicate with each other without words. It was the stupidest shit Chase had ever seen in his life, but one little boy caught his eye. He had golden hair and big gray eyes that looked blue in some lights and silver in others.

  “Why’s that kid look like Nate and Theo?”

  Richard looked at the boy for a long moment before speaking. “Are you paranoid over every blond child you encounter?”

  Chase stared at the kid, trying to pick out familiar details, and finding more than just the hair and eyes. He had Nate’s—their—somewhat delicate features too. Small nose, high cheekbones, the thin willowy build . . .

  A creeping sensation slid down Chase’s spine. He swallowed thickly, willing the feeling away. “Can you blame me? I didn’t know I had an entire family of clone-looking motherfuckers until I had a vision of them when I was twelve.”

  One of the staff members attending to the kids gave him a disapproving look, and Chase just jerked his chin at the guy. Richard steered Chase away, not bothering to hide his smile.

  “How did you know what your vision meant?” he asked. “Premonitions are usually vague. Contextless. Why did you assume it was real?”

  Because he’d stalked them online until he’d found their information, and then had spent years trying to make a telepathic connection. His mental antenna hadn’t been strong enough until he’d watched Theo die.

  Chase shrugged off his father’s hands and headed out to the brisk air again. He hadn’t missed Richard’s not-so-subtle subject change away from the little blond boy, but poking at him with questions he’d refuse to answer wasn’t the best strategy at the moment. “I didn’t know the visions were real until Theo showed up. And all sarcasm aside, I have a question for you. A real one. And you need to answer it if you want this to work.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What, specifically, is your plan with all this?”

  Richard slipped his hands into his pants pockets and looked around the property. There was a gleam of pride in his eyes as he did so. “Have you ever heard of the Skull and Bones society?”

  Chase snorted. “No. Sounds fake.”

  “It’s not. How about the Illuminati?”

  “Yeah. I also stayed up one night reading the theories that Beyoncé is their queen. Good shit. I enjoyed her rebuttal.” The smart-ass retort was evidence that Chase had been hanging out with Elijah too much, and that reminder made his chest ache. “What’s the point, Daddy-o?”

  “My point,” Richard said slowly, impatience seeping into his tone. “Is that I don’t know if those organizations and societies exist, but I can believe they do. I don’t think there’s anything supernatural about them, or that they are run by psychics, but I do think a tradition started generations ago for several people to come together and decide to make a difference in the world. I think they succeeded by obtaining positions of power and then nudging the right people into the right places over time.”

  “So you want to be the psychic Illuminati.”

  Richard pursed his lips, and he had that look again. The I want to backhand you look. “I think the only way this world can be safe for our kind is if we’re the ones in control of it. But we’re a young organization, and a large one with inefficient leadership across the board. We’ve had limited success with planting adult psychics in key places, and Hale and Kyger keep a sharp eye on the younger ones who come through the CW.”

  “Except the troubled ones,” Chase said. “’Cause you’re in charge of realignment and rehabilitation here.”

  “Correct. Hale and Kyger treat the functional children like they’re their actual children, and dedicate their time to shepherding them to safe places instead of positions that would benefit the Community as a whole.”

  Aha.

  Hale and Kyger didn’t know about the master plan. Or if they did, they weren’t in agreement. Worse but still more plausible—they’d agreed to let some kids end up in Richard’s projects but only the troublesome ones like Chase. And Six.

  “So you try to rehabilitate the fucked-up ones like me and use us as muscle or guards, and you’re trying to breed a whole bunch more to create your Skull and Bones society. Do I get you?”

  “You do.” The wings of Richard’s brows rose. “Your thoughts?”

  Chase smirked through the biggest lie he’d ever told. “I think you’re fucking nuts, but I also think you’ve got a point.” The roar of a motorbike cut off the last half of his sentence, and he glanced away to see Frick and Frack, or Will and Kyra, taking off out of the Farm. “Question number two for you, Pops. Your dynamic duo of assholes.” He pointed at the dust their bikes had kicked up as they sped away. “Did you find ’em or grow ’em?”

  Richard’s lip curled at the question. Chase couldn’t tell if he was amused or annoyed at the phrasing.

  “They were found in a group home in Illinois.”

  “Long way,” Chase said. “Who found ’em?”

  “Beck. My former spotter.”

  “Ahhh . . . Where’s ole Beck now?”

  The coldness that crossed Richard’s face was enough of an answer, but he said, “She wasn’t fit to serve in this operation any longer. Her desire for power took her to new heights of desperation, and she wasted valuable talent.”

  Wasted. Like she’d spilled a drink or dropped an expensive bowl of strawberries, not, like, consumed actual humans to absorb their talent.

  “Are there other people like Beck?”

  “Spotters or psychic vampires?

  “Both.”

  Richard looked toward the silo. “As you know, I’m a spotter and have a touch of empathy, but my powers do not extend beyond my immediate area. I can sense when another psychic is using their gift, but not like Beck. Or, rather, not like what she absorbed from someone else.”

  Chase nodded slowly. “Are there more vamps like Jasper and her? ’Cause I’m pretty sure it’d be hard to not be corrupted by the ability to fucking absorb another person’s psychic ability.”

  “Agreed. But if you can’t summon the self-control to not put the entire Community at risk, then there’s no need for an individual to be in it. Regardless of their talent.” Richard began walking again, his feet taking him toward the silo. “And there may be others like them, but it’s very rare. You’re more likely to find a real vampire.”

  Chase didn’t even want to consider that possibility. He was pretty done considering all the other weird shit that must exist in the world in general.

  “So, what’s my place in
all this?” he asked. “I serve as your right hand? The muscle? An enforcer? Take out the people who need to be taken out?”

  “No. Your future role would be to run this facility while I return to the city to make changes with the board.”

  That smelled like an entire casserole of trouble and mayhem, but Chase made his face look like impressed, and nodded. “Why not Frick and Frack?”

  Again, Richard gave him one of those long slow looks, as if he couldn’t believe he’d helped to spawn someone so dim-witted. “They’re impulsive bullies. Fine for enforcers but not for leadership. I had Six in mind for this role, but he was—”

  Richard broke off and pursed his lips. The way his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared were intriguing enough for Chase to gently reach out with his telepathy to see what the old monster was thinking. It came in the form of angry screaming phrases in Richard’s mind: He fucking betrayed me. After all I did, he fucking betrayed me. I looked at him like a son, and he betrayed me. That bitch took him from me.

  Chase withdrew before the tickle of mental fingers alerted Richard to the fact that the psy-sups were inactive in Chase’s system. He took a chance every time he tried to read someone, but he was going on faith that his own shield was strong enough for them to not detect his talent unless he got sloppy and lingered too long.

  “He had other plans,” Richard said.

  With your wife, Chase wanted to say, but didn’t. He had no idea when Jessica Payne had transitioned from philanthropist and First Lady of the Community to someone who was secretly working to take it all down, and it wasn’t his place to ask. He’d just scrape at Richard’s mind little by little in the hopes of catching him unshielded in an off moment, and find out on his own.

  “When do I take over this role?”

  “Once you’re through with your realignment sessions.”

  Chase didn’t hide an eye roll. “And when the fuck do I get to see Elijah?”

  Richard arched a brow. “You’ll be excited to know that he broke last night. Confessed his crimes and pleaded for realignment to be returned to our fold. You can see him as soon as he’s transferred back to the cottage.”