He went inside at a run and found Juneau pressed up against the back of the closet. She reached for him first, letting him draw her out. But she was trembling, despite her silent bravery. He hugged her close for a moment and then stepped back.
“Come on. We’ve got a ride out of here.”
“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”
He shook his head. “Not now. If this woman is telling the truth, we can expect more hunters … and soon.”
“Hunters? I thought they were looters, because of the quake. What—”
“Juneau. Do you trust me?”
“I—yeah. If you were going to hurt me, you’ve had more than one shot, and you’ve been nothing but kind.”
Kind. Most men would be offended by that word, but it wrapped around his heart like barbwire. She saw something in him nobody had, at least not for years. Not since before he was taken.
“Then let’s go. I promise you’ll find out more after we get moving.”
Wordless, Tanager led the way back to the road, where a driver waited in a battered Jeep. He looked military from his bearing to his haircut, but his eyes held that hypnotic shine as he turned to watch them cresting the rise. His hands still rested on the wheel, like he hadn’t moved since she got out of the vehicle. Creepy.
“I found my friends,” the woman said. “Now you need to drive us to Ayampe. There’s nothing more important to you than our safety. Understand?”
“Sí.”
So her power works across language barriers. Interesting.
Tanager got in front, and he helped Juneau in back and then swung up himself. The Jeep jerked into motion. This early, the wind was cool. She laced her fingers through his. The trembling had stopped, but she still seemed spooked—and she hadn’t even seen the bodies—or the lemming men drowning themselves.
“What happens once we get to Ayampe?” he asked Tanager.
“I find us a pilot and get us the hell out of Ecuador.”
“Doesn’t that mean using your ability? I thought you said we couldn’t. Isn’t it dangerous?”
“It would be for you, since you don’t know how to block Kestrel. As long as we stay on the move and get back to base, which is built to conceal us, we’ll be fine.”
“Before today, I haven’t done … that in more than five years.”
“Well, you were detained, weren’t you? And hiding your light under a bushel.” She winked at him over her shoulder. “Clever boy.”
Silas set his jaw. “Regardless, I’m not likely to recidivate if I have a choice. I’m more interested in making amends.”
“Whatev. Talk to Mockingbird about that.”
Juneau glanced between them, her eyes widening. “She’s … like you.”
“I wish people would stop saying that,” Tanager muttered. “I’m starting to feel not special, and that makes me bitchy.”
“What are you going to do with him?” Silas asked, indicating the driver. “Won’t he tell the Foundation everything, if they find him?”
If she expects me to let her kill some random guy—
Tanager shrugged. “He’ll remember exactly what I tell him. He won’t say anything about us. As far as he knows, he decided to take a sudden vacation.”
Damn powerful gift.
“Where are you taking us?” Juneau spoke in a low, firm voice, despite the fact that she had to be seriously freaked out.
“I didn’t want you,” Tanager told her. “The big guy insisted.”
Silas sat forward. “That doesn’t answer the question. I’d like to know, too.”
“I’m not telling you where. I’ll tell you what. You’ve been tapped to join the resistance. If you decline the invite, after speaking to Mockingbird, I’ll give you the story I want you to remember, and leave you somewhere safe. After that, you’re on your own. But the Foundation has your scent now, and they’ll never stop looking. So you’re better off with us.”
“The Foundation?” Juneau frowned, glancing at Silas for explanation. “This sounds like an episode of The X-Files I saw once.”
Shit. It’s time I told her everything.
So there, in the breezy backseat of an old Jeep, he did.
ELEVEN
None of this seemed real. Several hours later, Juneau glanced around the “safe house” and wondered what the hell she was doing here. The safe house was more of a warehouse, all random junk, bare swinging bulbs, and echoing, cavernous space. This shit had nothing to do with her. She needed to call her family and let them know she was okay, maybe go visit before she took her next overseas job. She no longer kept a place in the U.S. because she didn’t linger long enough stateside for it to be worth it, and her mother enjoyed when she came home, however brief it might be.
But she glanced across the table at the big man, nursing a cup of coffee, and her heart did a funny dance in her chest. Maybe it was stupid to think he needed her, even a little, but she’d noticed the way his onyx eyes sought her, as if reassuring himself she hadn’t left. It wouldn’t hurt to stay awhile, if they’d let her make a call.
“Tanager,” she said. “Is there a phone I can use?”
“Sure. Back office. Dial nine first.”
“Who pays for this place?” Silas asked.
“Not us. Mockingbird keeps the power and phone on, charges it to the parent company that owns the property.”
Christ. Juneau stood and left what had likely been the break room, crossing the dark floor with its looming ceiling. Broken windows adorned the walls like sharp teeth, casting shadows from the swinging bulbs. She stifled a shiver as she passed into a darker hallway. There were no light fixtures back here, so she had to feel her way along the walls. She slid her fingers through something tacky, and she shuddered.
Inside the office, she found the switch. Radiance flickered overhead, highlighting the general wreckage of the room. The phone was ancient, a rotary dial—the kind her grandmother had leased from the phone company—and it sat on the floor, right beside the jack. Whoever these people were, they didn’t travel first class.
Juneau knelt and dialed; it took way longer when you had to wait for the wheel to finish spinning to input the next number. But the sound quality was good as the call went through. Her mother picked up on the third ring; she sounded faintly out of breath. Maybe she’d been outside in the yard or sitting on the porch.
“Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
“Junie!” Nobody but Melva Bright ever called her that. Right now, she didn’t mind. “God, we’ve been so worried about you, ever since we heard about the quake. Your brother’s been calling all over Ecuador, trying to get news.”
“Jack?” she guessed. He was the lawyer, better suited to getting information out of people than Joseph, the surgeon.
“Who else? Where are you? Are you safe?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.” That much was true. “I got a lift with some other survivors, and we’re making our way out of the country. I’ll come home as soon as I can. Things are … unbelievable here.”
“I can only imagine. But thank God you found a phone to let us know you’re all right.”
“I have to go. There are others waiting to use it. Give my love to Jack and Joe.”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
After she disconnected, she sat for long moments, holding the phone as if she’d lost her lifeline. Her mother’s voice lent the situation an illusion of normalcy, but clearly things weren’t. Taking a deep breath, she headed back to the others. She entered silently in accordance with Tanager’s gesture and propped herself against the wall. The other woman perched on the edge of a worktable, swinging her legs.
At first, she didn’t know why she had to be quiet, and then the laptop crackled. A ray of energy shot from it—and holy shit—she’d never seen anything like it, outside the movies. A small, holographic image appeared, glowing blue. Surely this was fake; this thing couldn’t actually talk. But the figure turned as if acclimating itself, and focused on Silas. It d
idn’t have features—didn’t look like any particular person—it was just an avatar.
“I see Tanager got you out.” The voice was unquestionably male, but it came out with electronic interference, different than a voice scrambler. This was a new thing altogether.
“I always get my man.” The blond woman grinned, showing straight, white teeth. She’d fit right in at clubs where Juneau had partied in college; everyone wore black and too much eyeliner. Leather and metal spikes, preferred attire.
“That’s why I sent you,” the hologram said to her and then added to Silas, “I imagine you have questions.”
“To say the least. Who are you? For that matter, who’s she?”
“I’m Mockingbird. You already know Tan. We don’t use real names, even in private, in case one of us is captured. We’re both part of a resistance movement, working covertly against the private organization that created us.”
Whoa. To be honest, Juneau hadn’t given full credit to the big guy’s story. He’d seemed to want to unload, and it seemed churlish to deny him that opportunity, even if she didn’t buy what he said. Although it was damned hard to explain what he could do otherwise, but her worldview didn’t allow for secret labs and Mengele-style human experiments. That was way darker than she’d wanted to believe. However, now she’d watched Tanager Jedi-mind-trick two men, using the power of her voice alone. In conjunction with Silas breaking people with his brain, she had to admit the evidence was compelling. The Chinese curse May you live in interesting times had come true with a vengeance. Shit didn’t get more interesting.
Which presented an interesting question. If they were a covert operation, what did they do with normals? A cold chill surged through her. She didn’t want to die for the uber-cliché of knowing too much. It might be her imagination, but Tanager watched her with greater than necessary focus, given she wasn’t doing anything.
Surely Silas wouldn’t let them hurt her. If he can stop it, a small voice said. If Tanager works her siren mojo on him, he may not be able to resist. Come to think of it, she’d only seen the ability work on men. Maybe it wouldn’t work on Juneau, and if so, she could defend herself. Die trying, anyway.
“And what do you want with me?” he asked.
“For you to come work for us.”
Silas laughed, but the sound faded as he realized nobody else shared his amusement. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly. We could use a warrior to help us take out their hunters.”
His black eyes turned sharkish. “You mean set myself up as bait. Use my ability to lure them in and then execute them when they show up.”
A shiver rolled through her. He didn’t sound offended; he sounded … intrigued. Silas studied his hands once more, as if he saw blood on them—and maybe he thought he could mitigate that with more. She didn’t know if she agreed, but she couldn’t imagine what he’d gone through either, if what he’d told her was true.
“I wouldn’t have put it that way, but essentially, yes. I coordinate all the agents from a secure location. Under most conditions, you would be working alone, though if we locate another facility like the one in Virginia, you would definitely be on the strike team sent to clear it.”
Silas froze. “There are others?”
“At least four. Two have been relocated since Shrike took out Dr. Rowan, and the other two never pop up on my informational grid. It’s possible those have shut down because they’re old—they were established in the seventies—but I won’t rest until I’ve liberated all the test subjects and shut down this program for good. If we make it too difficult and too expensive, the moneymen will cut off the research and close those divisions down. By yourself, you can go individually to each family and say you’re sorry for their loss. That’s all. With us, you can accomplish much more.”
“I’d work with him again,” Tanager said. “He’s cool in a crisis. He was swatting those bloodhounds like flies when I arrived.”
“How do you pay for all of this?” By Silas’s expression, he didn’t mean the rusty, abandoned warehouse.
“I won’t lie to you. My talent is such that I can skim from corporations without leaving virtual fingerprints. I set up numbered accounts for our operatives and we’re funded Robin Hood-style. But I target the parent companies behind the Foundation, if it makes you feel any better.”
“I have a couple of conditions,” Silas said. “If I work with you, I still need to visit those families. Otherwise, they’ll never know what happened to their children, their mothers and fathers.”
Juneau’s heart gave another little twist; his passion moved her. So few people cared about anything, anymore. God, she loved a man with a mission.
Tanager dropped lightly to her feet. “You’ll need some help with that, hoss. These people will have no reason to accept the truth from you.”
“And you’ll give them a reason?” Silas asked.
“It only works on men,” she answered, confirming Juneau’s hunch. “But chances are, we can find some male relative to convey the news. If I tell him we’re cops and we have news about Sally Missing, he’ll repeat it with one hundred percent conviction.”
“Why would you help me? This is personal.”
Her gaze went hard. “Because I want you onboard, and if this is what it takes, so be it. You can teach the Foundation to fear us—and what it feels like to be hunted.”
“Could you give me a few minutes to talk to Juneau in private?”
“Of course,” Mockingbird said. “Tanager, take the laptop to the back office. I have some things to discuss with you anyway.”
TWELVE
This was a new thing. Unlike most, his ability was constantly evolving. Two weeks ago, Mockingbird hadn’t been able to do this. Unfortunately, such power came at a high cost. He wouldn’t be able to do this forever, which meant he had to step up the recruitment and find someone who could take over for him. Which wouldn’t be easy. As far as he knew, he was unique. But then, everyone was.
What he was doing now, he guessed, was some form of technically powered astral projection, impossible to say for sure. Science hadn’t advanced anywhere near enough to try and chart the reasons why.
“You sure about this, Tan?” In this form, he could see her only in sparks of Tanager-shaped light.
God, he envied Silas. To be able to work out in the field, up close and personal with her? That sounded like a fucking dream come true. Lucky bastard. But the truth was, Mockingbird was far too vital—and too fragile—to survive outside his controlled environment. He hadn’t always been so weak, but the stronger his ability became, the more his body deteriorated. I am an imperfect adaptation , he thought, while waiting for her answer.
“I’m positive,” she said. “We need him. The combat abilities are rare, and even more rare for them to manifest in someone who isn’t batshit crazy.”
That much was certainly true. It seemed as though causing physical harm to others through paranormal means didn’t do the human psyche any good. Part of that could be attributed to the experiments, of course, and long captivity. But they’d found some subjects who’d come into their powers on their own, and to a man, they’d turned to mass murder as a hobby. But Silas was different, and Tanager was right. They had to have him. Her short-term cooperation with his personal penance was a small price to pay.
“Very well.”
He hated thinking of all the time she would spend with Silas in close proximity. Sometimes knowing an operative’s background provided too much insight. But of all his agents, she was the only one he’d formed a personal attachment to, even though he shouldn’t, even though it was stupid, and wrong, and pointless. She’d never even seen his face. Never would.
That’s me, the ultimate untouchable.
“It won’t be a big deal. I like him. And it’ll be nice to have someone around that I can talk to about shit. Plus, he’s had it worse than me, which takes some doing.”
He wished he offered the warning for altruistic reasons. “I think
he has some attachment to the regular who came in with him.”
Her tone turned cold. “Yeah. I was going to ask—what do you want me to do about her?”
THIRTEEN
“You’re going to do it.” It wasn’t a question.
Juneau had borne all the weirdness with an almost unreasonable calm. Not that Silas wanted a woman by his side who couldn’t face the unexpected without melting down. But he didn’t know how much more she could take.
“Yeah. But I don’t know how it’s going to work. You and me.”
Juneau shrugged. “Hey, you’re in demand. I’m just somebody you dug out of a rock pile. I appreciate you looking out for me while we were in Ecuador, but I gather we’re stateside now. That means once I head out, I can take care of myself. I need to get new IDs made, replace my bank card, and go see my family. I’d really like to hug my mom.”
He would, too. But after so long, he couldn’t imagine what he’d tell her. Sorry for six years of silence. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. Yeah, that’d go over well. But he had to address the fundamental misconception in what she’d said.
“You’re not. In fact, you’re the only person I’ve trusted with who I am in years.” Since before he’d been taken. “I’m not ready to lose that. Maybe you’d rather walk away, I don’t know. It hasn’t been long enough to be sure what we feel isn’t what they call emotional response to extremity.”
“Any port in a storm?”
“Exactly.”
She nodded like she agreed with him, and his heart clenched. Doing the right thing sucked. He wanted to beg her to stay with him and never leave, because he might never find anyone like her again.
“So what do you suggest, then?”
He took a deep breath, nearly unable to voice the words for the razors in his throat. “We should part ways, at least for a while. Get some perspective. And maybe you’ll decide you want nothing more to do with me.”
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