by Sophie Davis
“With my talents,” I said as though it should have been obvious, which it should have been. Emma had said she knew about me, which meant she knew what I was capable of.
“Doubtful. The energy around the island is too great. Your mental reach would have to be pretty incredible to push through the barrier. No offense, but not even you are that strong. You’d need a boost. So will Kip for that matter. That might be tricky come to think of it. Boosters are locked up tight.”
Emma kept talking, but I stopped listening.
If the energy surrounding the island was too great for me to mentally communicate with Kenly in London, how had I heard Erik earlier?
He’s Created, I told myself. It wasn’t my talents that had allowed us to speak, but rather his. That had to be it.
I opened my mind completely, fully expecting a barrage of mental voices to invade my mind. And they did. I heard Emma contemplating whether to ask if she could come with me to London. I heard Ross reading to himself in the room next door. I heard Jeb debating whether to turn me in. I heard an unfamiliar female voice humming a tune somewhere inside the house, and could only assume it was the healer, Andromeda.
Other, fainter, mental ramblings reached my ears from nearby houses, all jumbled together in one buzz of white noise. Just like when I’d talked to Erik earlier, the reception was patchy, though. I only heard bits and pieces of random thoughts. I concentrated on the white noise, attempting to parse out the individual thoughts. But I couldn’t.
I cast my mental net wider. Louder buzzing, but the thoughts reaching my ears were still disjointed. Then, because I was clearly a glutton for punishment, I decided to try reaching Erik again. Pushing my talents to their limits, I called into the ether. “Erik? Erik? It’s me. Can you hear me?”
The words reverberated inside my head, as though they’d bounced off a wall and were hurdling back towards me.
I concentrated harder. I could do this. I was the most powerful manipulator alive today.
“Erik? Talk to me. Say something. Say anything,” I begged.
“Talia? Talia? What’s happening?” Emma’s hands were on my shoulders, shaking me insistently.
I blinked, surprised to feel soggy fabric against my cheek. I was no longer sitting, but curled on my side on Emma’s bed.
“I’m okay,” I muttered to Emma, who was leaning over me with pure terror in her eyes. Pushing myself to a sitting position, I saw a small puddle on the blanket where my face had been. I touched my cheek. My fingers came away wet. Tears were pouring from my eyes, dripping down my chin and onto my chest.
“Did I pass out?” I asked Emma, stunned.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. Power was shooting out of you in sparks, and you started convulsing. Then you fell over. It happened so fast.”
Shakily, I patted her hand. “I’m really okay. I was just trying to contact Erik. And, I don’t know, it didn’t work.” Using the sleeve of the sleep shirt Emma had let me borrow, I wiped away the last of the tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding.
“Of course it didn’t. I told you, you can’t use telepathy to talk to someone not on the island.”
“I did earlier today. Twice,” I replied, frustrated by my shortcomings. “Or, I don’t know, I guess Erik contacted me earlier.”
Emma shook her head adamantly. “No. He didn’t. Erikson Kelley, your boyfriend, that’s who you are talking about, right? He’s where exactly? The Isle of Exile?”
“Yeah. He was last time I checked, anyhow.”
“Then he definitely wasn’t contacting you earlier. It’s not possible. I’m telling you, it takes like a thousand times your power to break through the energy field. It’s not possible to do without a booster.”
I thought a thousand times was a pretty large exaggeration, but I understood the message.
“Erik is Created,” I told Emma. “He is like a thousand times stronger than I am,” I added with a smile. “He’s always got a booster in his system.”
“I guess it might be possible in that case,” Emma said dubiously.
“The conversation was broken up. I couldn’t hear everything he said, just every couple of words.”
Emma nodded. “Okay, well that makes more sense. I guess I’ve just never met someone that powerful.”
“He’s one of a kind,” I said. Remembering Penny had all the same abilities as Erik, I amended, “Well, technically he’s one of two of a kind. But that’s not important.”
Just then, a high-pitched whining noise started somewhere deep inside the house. I heard Jeb’s bedroom door open, and then his sock-clad feet moving across the wooden floorboards. A second door opened. The whining noise grew louder.
“Can you hear that? What is it?” I asked Emma.
“Fax machine,” she replied absently.
The noise ended abruptly. I focused on Jeb’s mind, curious as to whether this newest fax was another alert about my escape. His thoughts were laced with static, but I was able to hear every word. Those words terrified me.
Received word the Lyons girl washed up on Freedom Beach and is currently staying at your home. Please confirm immediately. Once you do, we will send a team to collect her. Do not warn her. She is dangerous. Bounty on her is large. You will receive twenty-five percent, as you have in the past. NS.
Who the hell was NS? And how did he or she know I was on Pelia?
The Privileged
Besançon, France
Three Days Before the Vote
Cressa watched the minutes drag past on the desk clock. Exactly fifty-eight minutes after entering her room with Nydia to change for bed, Cressa peeled the covers back and climbed out of her bunk. She positioned her pillows in a reasonable facsimile of a body beneath the blankets, figuring the ruse would be passable at a glance.
“Be careful,” Nydia muttered, just as Cressa was easing the bedroom door closed.
“I will,” Cressa whispered back.
The twins, Daphne and, to her surprise, Ritchie were waiting in the atrium.
“Thought you might chicken out,” Lyla said when Cressa entered the rotunda.
“Guess you have more stones than we gave you credit for,” Shyla added, sounding simultaneously impressed and annoyed by this fact.
Shrugging, as though she routinely took midnight strolls around top-secret facilities, Cressa tried her best to sound nonchalant. “I’m curious, same as you.”
Ritchie tossed her mane of coarse magenta hair behind one shoulder.
“Don’t lie, you just want the chance to rub shoulders with a celebrity,” she taunted. “Daphne says you’ve already met him once. Well, so have I, Cressa.” Ritchie pronounced Cressa’s name as though it were a dirty word. “My father’s stylist is partners with Kev’s manager’s brother’s best friend, so Kev knows me. Don’t get any silly ideas—he can spot a fame troll a million miles away.”
Cressa simply stared, unable to follow the convoluted connection between Ritchie and Kev Leon.
Whatever, it doesn’t matter, Cressa told herself. She hadn’t joined their excursion because of Kev, anyway. Cressa was risking her parents’ disappointment and possible dismissal from the program for answers, not some guy. Even if that guy was Kev Leon.
A scurrying noise drew all five girls’ attention towards the corner of the atrium. Cressa blinked as the smooth, stone wall began to move. Before she could react, a section of the wall swung open and three boys tumbled through the doorway, giggling loudly.
Lyla sighed and rolled her big brown eyes.
“Could you toads be any louder?” she demanded.
A tall, slim boy with skin the color of café au lait crossed over to where Lyla was standing with her hands on her hips, and slung an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s all good, Ly,” he drawled. “All the floor captains are out for the night—the Dame is having them watch Gracia become a clone. So, we’re free and clear. We have the run of this place.” He directed a dazzling smile at Cressa. “I don’t believe we’ve had t
he pleasure.”
“Hartley, this is Cressa, she’s the newest 2P,” Lyla explained, then pointed to the other two boys in turn. “And that’s Jacob, and Jacob.”
Cressa gave a little wave, and the Jacobs nodded.
“It is very nice to meet you, Cressa, I’m so glad you’re up for a late-night romp around this old place,” Hartley said. He turned to the rest of the group. “Where do we want to start?”
“Where’s Kev?” Ritchie demanded. “You promised to bring him along.”
Hartley rolled his vibrant indigo eyes.
“Sleeping, the ninny. The kid barely speaks. I think the head docs are giving him something for his ‘adjustment disorder,’” he said, using air quotes.
“Aren’t we good enough for you?” one of the Jacobs asked, sticking out his bottom lip.
“No, you aren’t,” Ritchie snapped. “This is dumb, I should just leave.” Despite her words, she stayed put.
“I say we start in med bay,” Lyla declared with a mischievous smile.
“Are you mad?” Daphne demanded. “Hartley just said that’s where everyone is tonight. We’ll be seen for sure.”
“Not likely, as long as we stick to the shadows and use our invisibility. We’ll be fine. Besides, don’t you want to see your sister’s transformation? I know I do,” Lyla said. “Unless, of course, you’re too scared?”
Daphne took the bait. “I’m not scared. I’m just not stupid, either. But,” a shimmery light appeared around her small frame, “I have all but mastered invisibility.” With a nearly inaudible pop, Daphne blinked out of sight. “Can you say the same?”
Cressa felt a tug on her ponytail. An instant later, Daphne reappeared by her side.
By the uneasy expressions on the others’ faces, Cressa surmised that they weren’t nearly as adept at using light manipulation as Daphne.
At least I’m not the only one, Cressa thought.
Hartley chuckled nervously. “Med bay it is, then. Follow me.”
The group, including Ritchie, who evidently didn’t want to be left out of the fun, clamored through the opening in the stone wall.
Inside, the passage was dark and smelled like mold.
“I can’t see a damn thing,” Lyla whined. “Hartley? Is that you? Get your hand off my butt.”
Buzzing came from somewhere in the distance, growing louder by the heartbeat. Suddenly, a soft yellow light brightened the passageway. It wasn’t bright enough to banish every shadow, but it was a huge improvement over the pitch darkness.
“Who did that?” Ritchie asked.
The cadets all stared at one another, Daphne wearing a smug smile.
“This place is an old boarding school, from before the Great Contamination. It’s been in the Dame’s family for generations. She only had it overhauled like ten years ago, when she first opened the Institute. Daddy’s firm did the renovations. These secret tunnels were part of the original structure, and the Dame asked daddy to keep them. I bet she uses them all the time.” Daphne pointed to the row of lit antique lamps affixed to the stone walls lining either side of the tunnel. “I happen to know all of those are connected to the same switch.” Triumphantly, the little canary gestured to a panel next to the entranceway they’d come through. “That one.”
Cressa followed Daphne’s finger towards the panel. The stained glass mosaic was too fancy for the stone walls and earthen walkway. Squinting for a better look, Cressa saw three interlocking circles that formed a triangle at the center, with an unblinking eye in the overlap. There was something unsettling about the image, sending a chill up Cressa’s spine that settled uneasily at the base of her skull.
It’s just decoration, you’re being silly, she told herself. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the eye was watching her.
The others didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the strange picture, save Ritchie. She kept shooting the panel furtive glances, as though expecting to find the eye following her as she hopped from one foot to the other.
“Well, guess that makes this sort of useless,” Hartley said sheepishly, pulling a flashlight from the waistband of his pants. The other two boys also produced flashlights.
“So you were just using the darkness to cop a feel?” Lyla rolled her eyes. “Such a charmer.”
“Can we just go already?” Ritchie asked, hugging herself to ward off the chill only she and Cressa seemed to feel. “This place is super creepy. And there are freaking cobwebs.” She nodded to shimmering tangle of webbing in one corner of the low ceiling. “Are you lying, Daphne? Because the Dame would have had these tunnels cleaned if she used them. No way that woman slinks around in here with the spiders and who knows what else.”
“I’m not lying,” Daphne protested. “You’re just jealous because your family isn’t tight with the Dame. Once the Privileged take over, the Beaumonts will be rewarded far above your lot. My sister is about to be the Dame’s most prized disciple, and I’ll likely be next. Dr. Masterson said—”
“Oh, please,” Ritchie retorted, rounding on Daphne. “Gracia becoming a clone is simply dumb luck. It has absolutely nothing to do with your family.”
“Shut it, both of you. I think I hear someone,” Lyla snapped.
The group went silent. Cressa concentrated, listening for an indication that they were not alone. She heard what sounded like running water, and possibly rodents scurrying about, but nothing that made her think other people were farther down the passage.
“It’s nothing, you’re just paranoid. Let’s go,” Shyla said, elbowing her twin.
Hartley took the lead, using his flashlight to point out cracks in the steeply sloping ground so the others wouldn’t trip over them. The twins followed right behind, Lyla asking him question after question about Kev Leon, much to Hartley’s annoyance.
Cressa hung towards the back with Daphne and one of the Jacobs, who was also using his flashlight to illuminate the path beneath their feet.
“Does he know where we’re going?” Cressa asked the other two, after Hartley chose to turn down a tunnel off of the main passageway.
“Down,” Jacob said with a smirk, indicating the gradient that was carrying them ever downhill.
“Wow, that’s really helpful,” Daphne shot back.
“Yes, he knows,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Med bay is one of our favorite haunts.” A mischievous grin spread across Jacob’s face. “You can see into certain of the rooms from inside the tunnels. We’ve seen all kinds of crazy stuff. Never a clone being made, though. This will be a new one for us.”
A pit of dread formed in Cressa’s belly.
“What sort of crazy stuff?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer. Had the boys, and possibly other trouble-making cadets, watched her injection procedures? Had they seen her panic attacks inside the incubation chamber?
Jacob’s smile grew impossibly wider. “Want to take a detour?”
Before Cressa could answer, Jacob yelled up to Hartley. “Hey, Hart, let’s take them to the farm. We’ll make it a quick trip.”
The farm? It sounded benign, but Cressa somehow doubted that they would find adorable piglets and fuzzy lambs in the Institute.
“Yeah, sure. The turn’s up here on the left,” Hartley called back.
“Does the Dame keep horses here?” Daphne asked, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Back home, we have a racing stable. There’s a professional breeder on staff that flies all over the world to find the best mares to carry our stallions’ foals. Daddy lets me ride the slow horses—the ones who lack the mutation that makes them run real fast. We can trace our horses’ lineage all the way back to the Contamination, to the very first racing horse with the mutation,” Daphne finished proudly.
In that moment, Cressa finally saw the familial resemblance between Daphne and Gracia. Like Cressa and pretty much all of the other cadets, the Beaumont sisters were from an affluent family. Unlike most of the cadets, they liked to boast about their wealth and social status.
�
��There are a few horses,” the other Jacob, who was walking beside Ritchie, replied with a chuckle. “And plenty of livestock.”
Something about the way he said it gave Cressa the impression that ‘livestock’ was an euphemism. She couldn’t imagine what Jacob was eluding to, but felt queasy.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have to wait long to find out.
The entrance to the tunnel that housed the farm was hidden. Had Hartley and the Jacobs not already known the location, the group would have walked right past the moveable stone slab.
“All the doors down here can only be opened using telekinesis,” Hartley explained, pressing his palm flat against a section of stone. He screwed up his face in concentration, and there was a slight stirring beneath his hand. The thick slab slid an inch or so to the left, just enough to emit a thin beam of light into the tunnel.
“Here, I got you, Hart.” The Jacob with Cressa and Daphne elbowed the others aside to stand beside Hartley.
Together, the two boys focused their energy on the section of stone. It moved another couple of inches, before refusing to go any farther.
“I don’t understand,” Hartley said, wiping a trickle of sweat from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Usually I can open it by myself.”
“Maybe it’s been reinforced to keep flunkies out,” Ritchie said, sounding relieved. Besides Cressa, Ritchie was the only other member of their illicit excursion team showing reservations about entering the farm.
“Or maybe your powers are fading,” Lyla suggested snidely. “I hear that can happen. Better watch out, Hart. It might not be your nighttime wanderings that get you dismissed.”
Hartley laughed, but Cressa could tell Lyla’s flippant remark bothered him.
Dr. Masterson’s serum did not give them indefinite power. In order to retain their abilities, they needed regular injections, some more frequently than others. The timing simply depended on how well the individual’s body retained the foreign genetic material.
“Let Cressa and me try,” Daphne called, grabbing Cressa’s hand and dragging her forward. “We both advanced recently, so our telekinetic powers were just boosted.”