Specter: Circuit Series Book One

by Dailey, Lacey

  “Wh... what?”

  “Candy. Do you have a favorite?”

  “Uhm...” He looks entirely serious. This guy truly wants to know what type of sugar I prefer consuming. “I like gummy bears too. But also Sour Patch Kids.”

  “Oh, those are so good. When I was a kid, I used to suck all the sour stuff off and just plop the soggy candy back in the bag. My sister lost her shit when she ate one of them. Brushed her teeth like a million times.”

  He smiled and waited for me to reply. When I said nothing, too stunned he was talking to me like I wasn’t a basket case, he peered at the box still on the welcome mat.

  “May I open it?”

  I nodded and watched him lift the box and set it on his lap. He unwrapped it carefully as if he were trying to preserve the moment though I’m sure it was more about preserving the paper. He set aside the wrapping and lifted the flap of the old shoe box I’d set them in. His brow furrowed as he studied the contents.

  Three dozen cyan crayons lay inside.

  “I wasn’t sure how many people are on your team.” I mumbled.

  “Thirteen.” He said, lifting a crayon. “Would you like me to give one to each person?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Okay. May I ask what they stand for?”

  I cleared my throat. “I equate cyan crayons with badasses. And I believe you and your team to be the most badass of them all.”

  “Oh boy.” He smiled wide, freckles rising high on his cheeks. “Ace’s ego might not be big enough for his head when he hears that.” He peered at the crayon between his fingers and set it back in the box. “Thank you, Sage. This is really cool.”

  “Take two. There’s enough, right?”

  “Right. Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay. I’ll make sure everybody gets two.”

  “Th... thank you, Wren.”

  “No, Sage. Thank you. This is probably the most unique gift I’ve ever gotten. I’ll put it on my desk.”

  “No.” I shook my head and swallowed the ever-growing lump in my throat. Over the course of three weeks, I’d been thanking him in gifts and cards and disappearing tricks. Now I had the chance to thank him properly.

  “Thank you, Wren.” I stressed. “Thank you.”

  “Sage.” He set aside the box and looked me in the eye. Something started bubbling beneath my skin. I wanted to look away but I simply couldn’t. The green eyes behind the thin layer of glass kept my gaze rooted. “Please know that everybody on my team is proud to have had a hand in helping you. Your story reminds us why we do this, and though our methods are risky, we do not regret them because you’re sitting here right now. If you ever need anything again, big or small, we would be honored to help you. Okay?”

  Moisture pooled in my eyes, and I chalked it up to being exceedingly overwhelmed.

  “Are you okay, Sage?”

  “You’ve asked me that three times.”

  “I’ve wanted to ask you since I saw you buying candy on a security camera.”

  I sniffed. “That’s how you found me, huh? I thought I was being sly with the cash thing.”

  “That was smart.” He admitted. “But I’m pretty good at what I do.”

  “I’m proof.”

  His expression changed. His smile dropped just a little as he regarded me with what looked like empathy. “Anything you need, Sage. I’m not sure how, but you know where to find me.”

  “No offense, but I’ll be forced to believe the universe hates me if I ever need your services again. I already got kidnapped once, I’m at the back of the line.”

  He blinked, almost like he couldn’t believe I was making inappropriate jokes about what happened to me. But I became rather good at it. Julie hates it.

  “I meant for anything. Big or small.”

  I nodded. “Would it be alright if I stay here until my legs begin to work again?”

  “Sure. Would it be okay if I sat here with you?”

  “Sure.”

  We went silent for a few minutes. I rested my head against the wall behind me and took long breaths like Julie taught me. When I looked back at him, I found him twirling a crayon around in his fingers.

  “Is blue your favorite color?” He asked.

  “No. Yellow is.”

  “Yeah?” He peered down at his outfit. “What do you think of my shirt? Be honest.”

  “I think it’s quite loud. But also very wonderful.”

  His smile told me he was pleased with my answer. “Ace told me I look like golfer Ken.”

  “The Barbie? I think you look more like a sunflower.”

  “A sunflower? God. That’s worse.”

  “Why is that worse? Don’t you want to be bright? Isn’t that why you wore the shirt?”

  He seemed to consider my question. The twirling of the crayon stopped, and he stared into space for a long moment. “I suppose. I really just bought it because I thought it vomited happiness at people. I guess I like things that feel like sunshine.”

  “There’s this pillow.” I said. “It’s yellow. My favorite because of that same reason. My life was kind of void of color for a while. It seems like I missed yellow the most.”

  I was getting deeper with him than I did in some sessions with Julie. Except he didn’t know the follow-up questions to ask. Didn’t know how to analyze me or every move I made. He didn’t even attempt it, and it was such a relief.

  “Maybe I should buy Ace this shirt. He could use some color.”

  “Does he always wear white pants?”

  “No.” He laughed. There was a faint snort in his chuckle that made it overly dorky and oddly unique. I liked it. “He wears white pants because he works at Tranquility Spa as a masseuse during the day.”

  “Oh God.” Everything inside me repelled with that sentence. “He touches people? And they let him?”

  He chuckled again. “And they pay him for it.”

  “That sounds like hell.”

  “He seems to like it. I told him today if I was golfer Ken than he was masseuse Ken.”

  “I think he looks like a strange version of Jesus.”

  Wren stared at me before hollowing in deep laughter. Snort after snort barreled out of him as he clutched his stomach. Freckles were bouncing on his newly red face, and I was stunned into silence when I felt the makings of a smile on my own face.

  “I can’t wait to tell him you said that.” He wheezed. “He’ll crack up.”

  “Does it take much to make Ace laugh?”

  “God, no. Dude is like a giant 10-year-old. He still laughs when somebody farts.”

  “So does my brother.”

  “Brett, right?”

  I nodded slowly. I wasn’t surprised he knew my brother’s name. It just struck me as strange he had a key to my past. “You know everything, huh?”

  “Not everything.” He shook his head. “I know what the FBI does. Just background and facts. Enough so I could be sure you weren’t a mole or working in the police force. The thoughts inside your head are safe, Sage. You have my word nobody at Circuit will invade your privacy again.”

  I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that until what felt like a hundred pounds lifted off my chest. The idea that someone was analyzing me added to the suffocation already induced by fear. Between Julie and my family, I couldn’t handle a group of hackers attempting to learn all the horrors in my head.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded politely in response, and I had no choice but to believe him. There was nothing that said he was lying to me. He didn’t avert his gaze or pull his lip between his teeth. Didn’t wring his hands together or grip the back of his neck. Didn’t pull out his phone to attempt avoiding my gaze. He simply stared at me calmly with a genuine expression resting on his face. “I appreciate that, Wren.”

  He smiled softly at me, noting the way my foot was tapping anxiously. It was then I realized my legs felt like they were part of my human body again. In no graceful way, I peeled myself off the floor.

  “I sho
uld go before my family figures out the figure asleep in my bed is a body pillow and an old American Girl Doll.”

  His eyes seemed to fall right from their sockets. “You snuck out?”

  “It was necessary. Ya know, secret identity and all that, Specter.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, Sage.”

  “You’re welcome. Is it okay if I keep leaving gifts?”

  “If you’d like to. Please don’t feel like you have to.”

  “I would like to.” It’d been a long time since I was able to express my emotions in any way. Though leaving a box of blue crayons to express my gratitude was hardly a start, it made me feel so much lighter. It made leaving my home and risking my parents breaking out into a worried frenzy worth it.

  For the first time in my adult life, I found a purpose. And I would fulfill it until I found a new one.

  “Okay then.” He nodded. “I’ll look forward to finding them then.”

  “Okay.” I lifted my hand in a wave and kept my back to the wall as I shuffled towards the elevator. He stayed seated, almost like he knew that’s what I needed from him.

  “Hey, Sage? May I ask you something?”

  I froze, nodding slowly. “Sure.”

  “Could you tell me how you found me?”

  I brushed my hair from my face. It only seemed fair I explained how I found him, seeing as how I followed him to both his place of business and his home. “Uhm, it was a girl. I believe she’s your sister.”

  His body jerked like he didn’t hear me right. His forehead wrinkled as he gaped at me like I just sprouted a second head. “Lilah?!”

  11

  Wren

  Little brothers were nuisances. It was easily a known fact. We could be complete little shits, especially when we were younger brothers to an older sister. The possibilities in which we could annoy our beloved sisters were endless. Reading diaries, spying when they talk on the phone, embarrassing them in front of Lonnie LaLone in eighth grade, eating the food in the refrigerator that had LILAH'S, DO NOT EAT written in bold letters. But we could also be loyal little dudes. Covering when they snuck out at night, sliding letters beneath a bedroom door, keeping secrets when the truth would’ve resulted in a grounding, and tying each other to a chair to stage a sit-in when we refused to go to summer camp with Petey the singing puppet in attendance.

  There was a fine line between loyal and little shit.

  I usually stood right on the border, if not swaying more towards the loyal side. But the last five days I had been the highest degree of little shit one could possibly reach. Not because I was mad at her, or because I felt betrayed she exposed me to Sage, but because it was really fun torturing her.

  It made me giddy.

  “Lilah.” I crooned, wagging my eyebrows at her from across the table. “Do you think you could get me more water?”

  Her eyes rolled deep into the back of her head. She dropped her fork with a clank against her plate and pushed out of her chair in exasperation. She walked around the table with disdain marring her red lips and lifted my empty glass off the table with a low growl before stomping from the dining room and into the kitchen.

  “Wren, honey.” My mom caught my attention. She was sitting to the right of me, placing her napkin in her lap. “Why is your sister acting as your maid?”

  “Ah.” I grinned widely. “She lost a bet.”

  “What bet?” My mother pressed.

  “Just a bet.”

  The grin on my face would likely be there for a few more days. The moment Lilah came home that night, I recited every word Sage told me. Her face grew paler and paler each second that passed by. My sister had given me up in the center of an emergency room while waiting for a doctor to come sew her up. I wasn’t really mad, but I definitely didn’t pass up the opportunity to give her a lecture on keeping her damn trap closed in public.

  She felt awful, and I was milking it for all it was worth. It’d been five days, and I knew she was close to cracking. I was reveling in her doing my laundry and waiting on me hand and foot in an attempt to earn back the trust she’d never actually lost.

  “Here you go, brother.” My glass hit the table with a thud, sending water sloshing over the rim and onto the table.

  I smiled at her like she’d just given me a hundred bucks. “Thanks, Gracie. You’re wonderful.”

  She cocked her head with a wicked smile and made her way back into her seat, plopping across from me. She placed her napkin back on her lap and stabbed a sausage with her fork, giving me a look that told me she wished to stab her fork somewhere else.

  It had me cackling.

  “What on earth is going on?” My dad scanned the expressions on his children’s faces, clearly confused. “Are you two fighting?”

  “I had a secret.” I announced. “Only Lilah and Ace knew. And then-" I paused, clearing my throat for dramatic effect. “Lilah told somebody.”

  Lilah rolled her eyes.

  My mother gasped. “Lilah Grace Wilder!”

  “It was an accident.” She mumbled, giving my mother a tight smile. “A slip of the tongue. I was being careless. It will not happen again.”

  Lilah flashed me a look, her eyes gazing at me intently. They were pleading with me, not to lighten up on this bizarre punishment, but to believe her when she said it. She was sorry. I knew that for certain. Call it younger brother’s intuition, but I knew she’d never felt worse in her life.

  “I know, Gracie.” I said fiercely, nodding. “I forgive you.”

  She slumped her seat, throwing her hands in the air. “Finally. Get your own damn water next time.”

  “Do not swear at your mother’s table.” Dad clipped. “You two are grown adults still acting like children.”

  “You think we’re bad?” Lilah gaped. “You should hear him and Ace. The two of them were arguing over who looked more like Barbie!”

  My dad looked at me, the word “yikes” written across his forehead. He cleared his throat. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” I asked him.

  “Who looks more like Barbie? You or Ace?”

  “Wren.” Lilah answered. “I believe Ace said he looked like golfer Ken.”

  “Aw.” My mom swooned. “You loved Ken.”

  I choked on my eggs. “I did not!”

  “You most certainly did! You used to carry Lilah’s doll around everywhere.”

  I took a slow sip of my water, making eye contact with Lilah. “Do not breathe a word of this to Ace.”

  It wasn’t that I’d found joy in playing with a doll. I actually didn’t find that hard to believe at all. I was a strange little dude. Would have rather been inside with my sister or Ace than outside with the neighbor boys getting trampled during a game of soccer. Video games and Dungeons and Dragons were my shit. Go ahead. Call me a nerd.

  You won’t be wrong.

  “Why can’t I tell Ace?” Lilah smirked.

  “Because then we will both have to hear about it for the next ten years.”

  “Touché.”

  “So, darling.” My mom stretched her arm across the table and grabbed my hand, giving it a shake. She didn’t have to reach very far at all. The dining room table at my parent’s house was just a small wooden square with four legs and a simple chair on each side. It was stained a light color, but still had decade old scratches, paint drips, and faded crayon markings across the top. Infomercials told me there were several products that could have easily removed Lilah and I’s childhood, but my mother was sentimental in all the ways a parent could be. Our bedrooms barely looked like they’d been touched. Still the same as they were when we left at eighteen. Just a small knick-knack here or there moved for cleaning purposes.

  “What’s the secret?”

  I shoved an entire sausage in my mouth. “What secret?”

  She swatted my head for talking with my mouth full. “The secret Lilah wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”

  “It’s a secret, mom. I can’t tell you.”

  “Oh,
pish posh! Mothers and sons don’t keep secrets from one another.”

  “It was nothing.” I shrugged. “Just that I have a secret identity and spend my evenings in a dark underworld fighting crime with my computer nerd friends.”

  Lilah spat out a gulp of water and choked on her laughter.

  Both my parents stared at me, slow smirks marring their faces. My mother let out a loud giggle, and my father patted me on the back with a chuckle.

  “Funny, son. Always went wild with the imagination.”

  “What’s the real secret?” Mom asked, wiping her mouth with her napkin and placing it on her empty plate.

  “He had a pimple on his butt cheek.” Lilah blurted, and I pictured myself strangling her.

  “Oh, honey, I have a cream for that.”

  Of course she does.

  “Thanks, mom.” I smiled, reverting back to middle school and kicking Lilah under the table. “But it’s gone now.”

  “Could come back. I’ll send it home with you.”

  “Awesome. Thanks.”

  “Who on earth cares that Wren has acne issues on his ass?” My dad gawked. “Why? Just why?”

  “Mooooom!” I threw a finger towards my dad. “Dad just said ass at the table!”

  “Knock it off!” My mother clipped. “Both of you!”

  “Aye aye, ma’am!” I shouted, saluting her.

  She rolled eyes and finished her iced tea, staring lovingly between Lilah and I. Sunday brunch was the highlight of her week. I knew it. Lilah knew it.

  We all knew it.

  My mother lived for taking care of her family. Doting on her children was her favorite pastime. Having all three of her greatest loves at one table was like Christmas on crack. Personally, I got a kick out of when we all got together these days. We looked like a couple of Cheese Puffs sitting at one table, redheads and freckles all around.

  When my parents first tied the knot, people used to mistake them for brother and sister, that assumption based entirely on the matching flames sprouting from their heads. Really, it was mere coincidence. A mutual friend in college set them up on a blind date because he thought it’d be funny to hook up the two gingers in his vast friend group.

  Well, joke’s on that dude.