The Delphi Resistance (The Delphi Trilogy Book 2)

by Rysa Walker

  Daniel is on edge about the vision, too, although he hides it better than Hunter. And while I try not to pry, it’s clear that he’s wondering not just about Ashley but also about Ashley’s sister, Sariah. Daniel can’t be certain from the brief glimpse we got in the vision, but he thinks maybe the kid Aaron was carrying on his back, the one who was sedated, was Sariah’s son. And that scares the hell out of him.

  Jaden, at least, is quiet. He’s fading away like Molly did, ready to move on to whatever comes after, and even though my head could use the free space, I wish he’d hold on a bit longer. It’s only partly because I’m not looking forward to processing his final dreams. The dreams will be unpleasant, but I know how Jaden died. I was right outside the room, helpless to stop it. The bigger issue is that I promised to find his parents. To let him say good-bye and give them closure.

  Damn, girl. There you go with that guilt thing, again. All you promised was that you’d deliver a message for me. I don’t have to be there. Yeah, I’d like to see them again, but it’s not a deal breaker for me. That’s not what’s holdin’ me here.

  Then what is? Are you worried about . . . ?

  I’m not sure how to finish the thought. He laughs.

  You tryin’ to get rid of me?

  No, I was just . . . curious.

  I’m jokin’, okay? I know what you meant. I’m not hangin’ on ’cause I’m scared I picked the wrong religion and I’m gonna fry, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. Once you take out the self-serving bits that people add in, all religions boil down to the same thing, anyway.

  Really? And what is this universal bit of wisdom?

  Simple—don’t be an asshole. Treat other people right. My parents taught me that, and I always tried my best to follow it. So I think I’m good. The only thing keepin’ me here is just what you said a minute ago. Curiosity. I want to know how this part of the story ends. But I’m also curious about what comes next. What lies beyond, as they say. At some point, I think the balance will tip in the other direction. Until then, I’ll just hang out at the back of your very noisy head and meditate.

  Maybe you should teach me. I could use some Zen.

  Ooh, no. Think I’ll pass on that. You’d be a real challenge. Hard enough to meditate when you only have to manage one set of thoughts.

  He’s right. Kelsey and I have tried pretty much every meditation technique there is. I suck at it, possibly due to the various walls and partitions I’ve constructed in my head.

  Seems to me you come pretty close when you’re with Aaron, though. Who says peace of mind has to be a place? Maybe in your case it’s a person.

  As usual, Jaden’s right. So, I pull on my jacket and head outside in search of my own bit of nirvana.

  That Aaron has managed to stick it out at Sandalford for this long is nothing short of amazing. Two of the adepts have short tempers, and Ben’s dad is perpetually annoyed at being here, although I don’t know if he’s actively thinking about hurting anyone. Except Miller. Aaron says everybody thinks about hurting Miller—ironically, his very offensive personality means that the guy might actually have reason to be worried about self-defense.

  So, Aaron spends most of the day on the deck to get away from all of it. He’s developed a pretty impressive winter tan on his face and arms. Some days, the deck isn’t far enough, and he ends up out on the beach. This could well be one of those days, since he was already on edge from talking to Sam earlier. A family friend, Beth Wilcox, one of the women who owns the townhouse Aaron took me to that first day we met, was struck by a car on her morning jog yesterday. She’s in serious condition, and they’re not sure if she’ll make it. The news hit Aaron hard—for the past few years, anytime Beth and Virgie travel, he’s been their designated sitter for the cat and the house.

  Aaron’s not in either of his usual spots on the upper deck, and when I look down at the lower deck, I realize why. Jasper is here for a visit with Miranda and the kids. The lone female Vigilance guard sits on the other side of the pool, one eye on her phone and one on Jasper. It took several weeks for him to calm down about Miranda and the kids not coming back to the cabin, about not being able see the kids without supervision. He kept saying Miranda and the kids aren’t safe here, which seems mind-blowingly ironic, given his recent actions.

  Miranda swears that the episode that first week was one of the few times Jasper ever hit her or one of the kids. That the vast majority of the bruises she’s received over the past few years have been the side effect of Peyton’s telekinetic temper tantrums. And while that’s actually plausible based on what we’ve seen, it’s also a very convenient excuse, so I don’t know whether to believe her or not.

  Any meltdowns Jasper has had over the past month have been confined to telephone arguments with Miranda, after which he disappears for days at a time, apparently over at the island. He consented to family therapy sessions and has had a few individual sessions with Kelsey. She can’t, of course, divulge what is said in those sessions, but I know that her eventual goal in these situations is family reunification, assuming the abuse isn’t pervasive and that it’s what the entire family wants.

  Reunification is definitely what the Hawkins family wants. Miranda has already started hinting that maybe Jasper could move into the guesthouse out back. That way, she and the kids could see him more often, and maybe they could eventually move in there with him.

  While Kelsey hasn’t outright rejected taking Miranda’s idea to Magda, I don’t see it happening anytime soon. Everyone is still on edge when Jasper is around, especially Aaron and Deo. I’m not even sure Jasper would agree, since he doesn’t like being around me. His one condition for giving Kelsey what little information he had about my aunt Rowena was that I keep my distance.

  I’m perfectly okay with avoiding Jasper, so I duck back inside and take the service elevator down to prevent any possible confrontation. I snag two bottles of water from the downstairs fridge and grab a portable beach chair from the row of hooks below the deck. Cutting through the sea oats, I make my way down to the beach.

  Aaron is there, reclining in one of the beach chairs as he reads on his tablet. Taylor is next to him, sprawled out on a blanket, with Ein curled in the crook of her arm. We keep Ein to ourselves as much as possible. I know that’s hypocritical. We’re judging these kids in the same way that Pruitt and Miller judge all adepts, and I really don’t think any of them would hurt the puppy on purpose. But he’s still relatively helpless, so the rule stands: they can’t play with him unless one of us is nearby. Just in case.

  “Sorry, Taylor,” I say as I hand Aaron one of the bottles. “I’d have grabbed another, but I thought you were still in your room.”

  “Nope. I quit.”

  “Good. You probably need a few hours off.”

  “No. I mean I actually quit. Not just for today. I’m not going back into that room. Whatever you saw in your stupid vision happens, right? So why should I spend all day, every day, with that damned sneaker in my hand? I’m going to soak up the fresh air on the beach for a while. Maybe drive into town later and eat something with flavor for a change.”

  I ignore the dig, mostly because I agree. Something spicy—Thai, or maybe chiles rellenos. When you’re cooking for twenty-six, including a bunch of kids, you don’t experiment. You stick to the basics—pasta, tacos, pizza, burgers, chicken.

  “So, maybe we should just go,” I say. “Pick up the RV from the storage lot in Kitty Hawk and head out tonight. I know Magda wants us to wait until Taylor nails down the location, but maybe it would be easier if we were farther north? I need to go to Massachusetts, anyway, to deliver Jaden’s message.”

  Aaron sighs. “You know how much I’d like to get out of here. But Magda doesn’t want us driving around aimlessly anymore. That sketch the state police released based on Pruitt’s description of Anna is pretty dead-on.”

  Taylor leans up on one elbow and gives me an appraising look. “I could fix that. Haircut, new color. Boob inserts. And we could dress y
ou more like a girl.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “I was dressed like a girl in the sketch, remember? So no thanks.”

  “Her hair looks great as is,” Aaron says. “And she definitely doesn’t need boob inserts.”

  “TMI, bro. And I was just trying to be helpful.”

  “Changing my hair might not be a bad idea.”

  She smiles. “We can do it once we’re on the road. Maybe a deep blue to match your eyes?”

  “So,” Aaron says, “the two of you are saying you want to hit the road tonight? Do Deo and I get a vote?”

  “Deo’s been ready for weeks,” Taylor says. “He said he had more freedom when we were in the RV since he can hardly leave his room for worrying that he’ll accidentally amp up one of the other adepts.”

  That’s the sense I’ve been getting from Deo, too, but I haven’t been able to get him to say it explicitly. It’s a little disconcerting that he’s more direct with Taylor about this than he is with me.

  “Then that makes it unanimous,” Aaron says. “You know I’m ready to go. But I’m pretty sure Magda is going to veto it.”

  Taylor scoops up Ein and her beach towel. “Nope. Because we’re going to be halfway to Boston before she knows we’re gone.”

  Clarksboro, New Jersey

  December 17, 2019, 8:15 a.m.

  Taylor pushes the mirror away from my hand. “Not until I’m done. Would you ask Leonardo da Vinci to show you his masterpiece before it was complete?”

  “Several of da Vinci’s works were left unfinished,” I say. “The Adoration of the Magi, St. Jerome in the—”

  “Don’t care.” Another snip of the scissors.

  Deep breaths, Anna. Deep breaths.

  We left Sandalford around three thirty yesterday afternoon, on the pretext of going into Kitty Hawk for supplies. It wasn’t the first time that we’d all gone into town together. We’d been to see the new DC comics movie—even though Deo is a Marvel boy through and through, he’s been known to cross the aisle for Wonder Woman. We also drove into Corolla two weeks ago to celebrate my eighteenth birthday, which I’ve been anticipating for as long as I can remember, since it heralds my official independence from the State of Maryland. It seemed rather anticlimactic, given recent events.

  This time when we left, however, our backpacks were a little chubbier than usual, and we also tossed an extra bag into the truck—black with a red-and-white Vigilance logo. It contained several stun guns, a couple of real guns, night-vision goggles, various medical supplies, and syringes filled with the tranquilizer that the med staff used to keep the adepts sedated on their trip to the Outer Banks. Thanks to Daniel’s intervention, two guards and a nurse have little gaps in their memories, gaps that I paid for with a pounding headache that lasted well into the night.

  In retrospect, I’m pretty sure Miller was counting on the tracking device they attached to the truck to keep tabs on us. But we’ve played that game before. Aaron located the tracker when we reached Kitty Hawk and transferred it to a delivery truck in the parking lot outside of a Wendy’s.

  I asked Miranda to cover kitchen duties for the evening, claiming I needed a night off—that part, at least, was true. The only one who knew where we were really going was Kelsey. Leaving her behind at Sandalford was tough. She agreed that we needed to go, although she thought we should run it past Magda first. But I doubt Magda’s answer would have been any different than it was two days ago.

  And it was really hard to leave Ein. We’re going to have enough to worry about without a puppy on board.

  The scissors snip again, and another lock of midnight blue falls to the floor of the tiny bathroom.

  “That looks . . . longer than the other pieces you’ve cut.”

  “Um, yes. That’s because it is longer.”

  I close my eyes and go back to my deep breathing, but it’s hard to relax when Daniel is laughing. It’s the only laugh I’ve heard from him in weeks, so it’s nice to hear, but I’m certain it’s at my expense.

  Go away, Daniel.

  Taylor cut my hair once. And only once.

  You’re not helping.

  She’s improved. No blood this time. I thought my ear was going to need stitches.

  Ha ha. Very funny. Are you better?

  It healed long ago.

  He knows I don’t mean his stupid ear.

  Yesterday at the beach house. When you nudged the guards. I could tell—

  I’m fine, Anna. I bounced back faster than you did.

  I’m not sure that’s true, even though I’ll admit that the headache I had for the first four hours of the trip was vicious. But as with all things Daniel, arguing is a waste of time.

  The scissors snip-snip again, closer to my ear than usual, and I can’t help but flinch.

  “Stop that!” Taylor says, whacking my shoulder with a comb. “You’re going to make me cut you. Just close your eyes until I say you can peek.”

  When the snipping noises finally stop, I glance up at Taylor.

  “Are you done?”

  She responds by handing me the mirror.

  The cut is asymmetrical, just above the shoulder on the left and just below the ear on the right. I can’t remember when my hair was this short, and it’s never been any color other than my natural honey blonde, aside from some temporary streaks Deo applied for a Halloween costume one year.

  It doesn’t look at all like me. And I’m surprised by how much I like it.

  Deo gives a wolf whistle when I emerge from the bathroom. Aaron’s reaction is a little less enthusiastic, but I kind of understand that. If he bleached his hair and got a spray tan, I’d still love him . . . but . . .

  Those words—I’d still love him—take me utterly by surprise. Did I actually just think that?

  Yep. You totally did.

  I wasn’t talking to you, Jaden.

  Oh, I know. But I still heard it. Pretty sure Hunter and Daniel did, too.

  Hunter giggles. Daniel, however, who was so eager to chime in about Taylor’s skills as a beautician a few minutes ago, remains silent.

  Aaron and I haven’t used that word. We’ve danced around it, I guess, implying it by touch and gesture, but never giving it voice. I’m not sure either of us is ready for that. The fact that I even thought the word, that it popped into my head so naturally, stuns me. When the hell did that happen?

  “So, you don’t like it?” Aaron asks, clearly confused by my sudden change of expression.

  “Oh, no,” I say quickly, reassuring Taylor. “It’s great. I really . . . love it.”

  That word again. Totally innocuous in this context, but I still feel the blood rushing to my cheeks.

  “I’m going to go get a better look,” I say, although it’s more a pretext to get out of the room than anything else.

  I hear Aaron behind me and catch his eyes in the closet mirror.

  “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I really do like it. You look beautiful. It’s just . . . you don’t . . .”

  “I don’t look like me. It’s okay. I understand completely.”

  He starts to say something else, but I turn around quickly and silence him with a long kiss. When I eventually pull back, I say, “Don’t bleach your hair, okay?”

  “Okay . . .” Aaron laughs. “Another kiss like that, and I might be able to convince myself that what you just said makes sense.”

  “With pleasure.”

  Once our bargain is sealed, we grab some coffee and a breakfast bar to eat in the cab of the truck. Before we get out the door, however, Aaron’s phone rings.

  “I win!” Taylor says. “I said nine o’clock and it’s not even five after.”

  That Magda would call around this time was a fairly safe bet, given the time difference between here and London. Miller is probably not stupid enough to call and wake her up in the middle of the night, and the information that we slipped his surveillance isn’t something he’d want to relay by text or a voice message. Nor would he want to stay up until
some ungodly hour of the morning in order to be sure Magda got the news that we were AWOL over her morning tea and crumpets.

  “It’s a video request,” Aaron says glumly. “Which means she’s angry enough that she wants to see our faces while she yells.”

  That’s an exaggeration. Magda doesn’t yell. She just scowls very loudly. It’s still not pleasant.

  “Hold on. Let me and Deo get into place.” Taylor snatches up the grimy sneaker, along with her drawing pad and pencil. Deo sits next to her and puts one hand on her knee, her loyal amp.

  “Good morning, Magda,” Aaron says in a chipper voice. “We were expecting your call.”

  “As well you should. You are currently in possession of my truck and caravan, without permission. Supplies and weapons are missing as well. So the real question is whether you were also expecting me to report this larceny to the authorities?”

  “Larceny?” Aaron’s smile wavers a bit, but he laughs as though she’s joking. Because she is, at least on the whole issue of calling the police. I think.

  “We simply left a few days early,” he says. “Taylor’s actually making some headway now that we’re farther north.”

  Taylor dutifully holds up the drawing pad. She pivots it toward the camera for a few seconds for Magda’s benefit and then gets back to sketching.

  “Plus,” Aaron adds, “I can think of many reasons you wouldn’t want to contact the police.”

  Magda raises one sardonic eyebrow at this last comment, but there’s a hint of acknowledgment underlying her expression. I’m sure there are at least a dozen official permits that she currently lacks for housing children—and troubled children, at that—at Sandalford, and she quite possibly wouldn’t receive them if she were to apply.

  “And I can think of at least one reason that you, or at the very least Anna, might want to avoid the police. I’m not sure how much protection I can offer to her if you run into trouble. That police sketch looks very much like—”