Privileged (Talented Saga Book 7)

by Sophie Davis

  Why are we different? Cressa wondered. Why are we the only ones using common sense?

  Even without seeing the electric cages, the other cadets should’ve been doubtful that the dismissed were as happy as the Dame said. Anyone who had seen Damon Bizon in that room, anyone who heard him crying and begging to go home, knew that the dismissed cadets were not there by choice. And Kev told her that the boys had seen a similar demonstration, so they should have realized this fact, too.

  Is it really because we all actually saw the frog pond? Cressa wondered, thinking about the old seeing-is-believing adage. Or is there another reason for their unquestioning acceptance of everything the Dame says?

  “These four will also be remaining at the Institute, but as prisoners for their crimes of treason,” the Dame continued.

  The common room broke out in unadulterated delight. People were whooping and hollering, as if the news that the Institute had a prison was epic. As if the four prisoners hadn’t been their peers—even friends, in some cases—just the day before.

  “You better join in,” Kev muttered, nudging Cressa with his elbow. “Something tells me green isn’t your color.”

  “I don’t see you clapping like a deranged puppet whose master just told him to dance,” Cressa shot back.

  “Right, because I’m an actor,” he replied, as if that explained everything.

  When Cressa turned to look Kev square in the face, she watched as his eyes went from pools of intense emotion back to the dead-eyed expression again. Then, he winked at her.

  I’m so stupid, she thought, stifling a grin. It’s been a performance this whole time. Even that first night in the elevator, he was acting.

  The guy in the tunnels—that was the real Kev Leon.

  But why is he here? Cressa wondered. If he never believed in the Privileged, why did he come to the Institute?

  “The videos, these inflammatory speeches—they’re designed to weed out the nonbelievers,” Kev continued, still speaking under his breath. “Leslie, Gregor, the instructors—they are all watching for our reactions. They’re noting looks of disgust, sort of like yours right now.”

  “How do you know so much about, well, everything?” Cressa asked suspiciously.

  Kev shrugged. “I played a cult leader’s son in Dawn of the Idols. While preparing for the role, I got really into the psyche of a true follower. Believe me, what’s going on here is textbook cult formation and growth.”

  Shooting her a pointed look, Kev brought his hands together slowly and mimed clapping. Reluctantly, Cressa started clapping too, offering a toothy grin to those around her. Daphne and Ritchie exchanged uncomfortable glances.

  “Play along,” Cressa hissed.

  “Many of you may be wondering why I have elected to share this news with the entire school,” the Dame said. The chatter and excited applause died a swift death, everyone anxious to hear what the almighty Dame would say next. “Since founding the Institute nearly a decade ago, I have kept many of the day-to-day dealings private, even from the faithful instructors who have shared my vision since the beginning. But now, as the time for the world to know of our existence nears, I feel there should no longer be secrets between us. After all, the ways of the Institute will soon be the ways of the world.”

  Naturally this brought another round of hoots and cheers.

  “That is why,” the Dame continued, “I want you all to know how I deal with the disloyal, with those who break Privileged law, with criminals like the four you see before you. Each has been offered a choice between two options: incarceration in the Institute’s prison, or participation in Dr. Masterson’s current research trial, which aims to perfect the Privileged serum so that repeated injections will no be longer necessary.

  “I am pleased to announce that all four of these prisoners have decided to pay for their crimes by taking part in Dr. Masterson’s trial. They wish for you all to benefit from their lapse in judgment. And I wish for you all to learn from their sacrifice. Remember this—even if you do happen to stray down the wrong path, redemption is possible.”

  Cressa felt sick inside. The woman’s ability to twist facts to suit her own agenda was enough for Cressa to lose her lunch.

  “Given the transgressions of these four,” the Dame continued on. “I also feel the need to remind all of you that the Institute has a plethora of rules, all of which are in place for your protection. First and foremost, the hidden tunnels inside the school are strictly off-limits to all cadets, without exception. Any students caught in the passageways will face the same punishment as these prisoners. While their participation in Dr. Masterson’s trial is noble, they have still brought shame on themselves and their families. Their flowers will no longer bloom in our Privileged garden, but will instead wither in the graveyard of dishonor. Please, I implore you all not to succumb to temptation and curiosity. Do not condemn yourselves to this most shameful fate.

  “In closing, I thank you all for your dedication to our vision for a Privileged world. I have the utmost faith that you will all stay the course, and will rise up with the rest of us when the Privileged are revealed.”

  With that, the Dame’s voice was gone, replaced instead by a rustling static that sounded through the speakers until the comm system was switched off. The commons was quiet for several long moments, and then excited conversation spread through the room like wildfire.

  Though the announcement was over, the holo-images of Lyla and the others remained at the front of the room, serving as a visual reminder of what happened to disobedient students.

  Cressa didn’t want to look at them, but guilt made it impossible to avert her gaze. It could have just as easily been her up there, branded as a traitor. Truly, it should have been her. If not for Kev’s intervention, Cressa and Daphne would have wearing red instead of navy.

  When Cressa tore her eyes from the holos of the cadets she’d been with only hours before, she shot a grateful look towards Kev. Unfortunately, he’d been surrounded again by adoring fans, and had reverted back to the dead-eyed stare.

  For the rest of their lunch break, the mood in the back corner of the commons was decidedly somber. Ritchie, Cressa, and Daphne talked very little, all three caught up in their own thoughts. If Cressa had to guess, they were all feeling a similar combination of guilt and relief. She couldn’t shake the terror she felt when considering how close she’d been to being a holo along with the other four, serving as a lesson to the cadets who might be considering going against the Dame’s ranks. Several times Cressa tried to catch Kev’s eye again—she still had so many questions for him—but his groupies remained human barricades.

  “Listen up,” Suzu called, dragging Cressa from her miserable thoughts. The older girl blinked the lights several times to get everyone’s attention. “This afternoon’s schedule has shifted. From this point forward, the entire Institute is on lockdown. All advancement exams have been cancelled until further notice, and you will all remain here for the rest of the day. Madame Brink will join us shortly, and we will continue light manipulation and telekinesis practice here.

  “If you need to leave this room, even to use the bathroom, you must ask permission from either myself or Madame Brink. Cadets Abbot and Ivan will be here intermittently, and they can also grant permission. If you have questions, please feel free to ask any one of us.”

  “Lockdown? Do you think something happened?” Daphne asked. She gestured miserably to the holo-images still on display. “Well, something more than that.”

  “Whatever it is, it must be big,” Ritchie replied, eager to take her mind off of their close call. “I’ve been here for six months, and the Dame has never instituted a lockdown.”

  “I hear Natalia Lyons has arrived.”

  Cressa, Daphne, and Ritchie all looked up at the newcomer. Dina, Ritchie’s short, squat roommate, was standing behind their little circle.

  “Hey, Dina,” Ritchie greeted the girl, sounding none too pleased about the intrusion. She tipped her head toward
Cressa and Daphne. “You know Daphne Beaumont, and that’s Cressa Karmine. What makes you say Natalia Lyons is here?”

  Crossing her plump legs, Dina dropped to the floor, wedging herself between Cressa and Ritchie. When she leaned forward, the other three girls instinctually did the same. After glancing around for eavesdroppers, Dina spoke in a faux whisper.

  “Don’t tell anyone, but I was down in med bay just before breakfast, getting my allergy shots.” Her eyes darted to Daphne. “I saw Gracia. It was so freaky. She could be Natalia’s doppelgänger, for real.”

  “That’s sort of the point,” Ritchie said dryly, quickly losing interest.

  Dina looked confused.

  “Gracia is Natalia’s clone,” Ritchie added pointedly. “So, yeah, she should look exactly like her.”

  Laughing, Dina waved off Ritchie’s comment. “Right, I know that. I’m just saying, she could totally trade places with Natalia. I bet no one, not even Erikson, would know the difference.”

  Beside Cressa, Daphne went rigid. Cressa felt confident the younger girl was remembering the third level of the observation cavern. They’d both seen the transformation as it occurred, had watched as Gracia’s features were seamlessly molded into those of Natalia Lyons. It wasn’t something either would forget anytime soon.

  “Anyway,” Dina was saying, “a group of guards was leading Gracia out of the recovery wing. The cute med tech with the glasses who gives me my shots told me to stay inside the cubicle, but of course I didn’t.”

  She grinned conspiratorially, as if waiting for praise from her audience.

  “Get to the point,” Daphne snapped.

  “I am,” Dina said with a frown, though the expression quickly reverted back to one of excitement. “I’m just saying, I knew something big was going down, and I wanted to see it firsthand. Anyway, I snuck out into the hallway. That’s when I saw Gracia and the guards. Then the med bay doors opened, and I saw the Dame waiting by the elevators with Dr. Masterson.”

  “Wait.” Ritchie held up her hand to halt Dina’s rambling. “You’re saying that you saw the Dame? In the flesh?”

  “Well, not exactly,” Dina replied, backpedaling. “Not exactly ‘in the flesh’. She was there, like moving and talking, except she was a hologram—the same one we saw in the auditorium last night. It was definitely her, though.” Dina tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear, which had come loose as she bounced up and down. “Regardless, I heard Dr. Masterson and the Dame talking….” Dina paused, ensuring she had the full attention of the other three girls. “They said Gracia is taking Natalia’s place today. Like, right now, as we speak, they’re swapping. The Dame said, and I quote: ‘Natalia will be with us shortly, of that I have no doubt.’”

  Talia

  London, England

  Two Days Until the Vote

  “Oy, there you are!” a voice I recognized called out.

  I surveyed the crowd in the department store cafeteria from beneath the short brim of a ridiculous black felt and rhinestone hat, searching for a familiar face. A boy about my own age waved excitedly in my direction. His medium brown hair and medium brown eyes were unmemorable, boring even. His facial features were plain, too ordinary to be handsome, too symmetrical and normal to be unattractive. Even the jeans and gray tee he wore made him blend in a way that ensured no one would look twice. Only the power emanating from his medium frame belied his true nature. And his true identity. Riley Wyld.

  In addition to the stupid, albeit trendy, hat, I was decked out in shiny silver leggings, an oversized lace sweater, and matching lace wedges to give me height. I’d also acquired a pair of colored lenses that turned my purple irises a vibrant green. Like Riley’s banal appearance, my more elaborate get-up was meant as a disguise, since many of those sitting at nearby tables were similarly outfitted. Emma and Kip also both wore the latest fashions all three of us had “borrowed” from Harrods department store.

  Like me, Riley was sensitive to other Talents, which was likely how he’d recognized me beneath the haute couture.

  “Is that him? He looks so normal,” Emma hissed as Riley strode towards our table in the corner.

  Emma and Kip had been wary of my decision to wait for Kenly’s emissary in such a populated location. I figured a meeting between two fugitives was better done in a crowd, where we were more likely to blend in. As opposed to a deserted park or shady back ally, where our presence alone would mean we were up to no good.

  Neither of my companions was comfortable in the presence of so many city dwellers, though. They both felt like outsiders, which they were. Even in their new clothes, Kip and Emma screamed rural. Between the way their eyes popped and mouths gaped every time someone in a particularly London-y outfit walked by, and the way they pointed at billboards and advo signs, it was a wonder no one had stopped to ask where they were from.

  “That’s Riley,” I replied in answer to Emma’s question.

  Riley reached our table and swung the lone free chair around so that he could sit with his arms folded over the back. He scrutinized my two tagalongs, and then met my gaze. Twisted blue flames swirled briefly in his irises, causing Emma to gasp. At first I thought it was his strange eyes that gave her pause, then I remembered that she was like Riley and me. She could feel Riley’s power, and it was exponentially more intense than she’d been anticipating.

  “This them?” Riley asked me, cocking a thumb towards Emma and Kip.

  I nodded in confirmation.

  For reasons I had yet to wrap my head around, the reception during the brief mental conversation between Kenly and me had been spotty at best. It had been clearer than on Pelia, yet still patchy and disjointed—almost as though the island’s energy had screwed up my gifts indefinitely. This was a thought I kept pushing aside. I didn’t want to consider a future without my talents. Life was too uncertain these days without the added worry of whether my mental abilities were losing their efficacy.

  I’d given Kenly the barebones version of my escape and detour through Pelia, receiving short bursts of static interlaced with her stuttered responses in return. Enough of her words had gotten through for me to understand that she was sending Riley to meet us. I didn’t need her to explain the reasoning behind the decision. Riley was a proficient Morpher, capable of distorting his human features without the aid of makeup or hair dye. He also wasn’t a ranking member of UNITED’s most wanted list.

  “This is Emma,” I said, pointing to my new friend. Riley’s gaze racked her from head to toe. He drew in a deep breath, as if inhaling Emma’s scent. Keen interest flashed across his expression.

  “Are you an Interceptor?” Riley asked Emma.

  “A what?” I interjected.

  Interceptor was not a familiar term. But Riley was from an area that referred to Talents as Chromes, so his gifted vocabulary did vary from mine.

  “An Interceptor. Someone who blocks a Chrome’s essence. Things are starting to make a whole lot more sense, if that’s the case.” Riley turned to me. “I felt you when I entered the cafeteria, but only just barely. I thought maybe it was a side effect of the drugs they gave you in prison to suppress your powers. But now that I’m sitting here, I’d say it’s her.” Riley nodded in Emma’s direction. He turned expectant eyes on Kip. “What do you do, mate?”

  “The name’s Kip,” Kip said stiffly. “I teleport.”

  Whistling appreciatively, Riley plucked a fry from the pile on my plate. Kip had needed to replenish his strength after our trip, so after stealing new outfits, I’d suggested waiting in the cafeteria so that he could consume calories. Using my own special brand of persuasion, I’d gotten all three of us turkey wraps and fries. Kip was the only one who’d as much as sampled the fare, though.

  “Spot on,” Riley said around a mouthful of mushy potato. “That’ll come in handy to get us back to the bunker.”

  Kip squirmed in his chair.

  “We traveled a long distance. Kip’s powers are burnt out right now,” I said to save the poor
embarrassed boy the trouble.

  Riley waved a hand dismissively. “No worries. I have our route mapped out. Do you want anymore of these?” He pointed to the fries.

  “All yours,” I replied, pushing the plate closer to him.

  “I thought you’d be more interested in eating after a month on Vault. Food must have been bloody awful,” Riley continued conversationally.

  It was the second reference he’d made to my incarceration. This was odd because UNITED had purposely kept it under wraps. Given the frequent disruptions in our conversation, I hadn’t told Kenly about my stint on Vault, only that I needed a place to hide.

  “How do you know I was in prison?” I asked.

  A wide grin split Riley’s middle-of-the-road features. “Our girl is quite the hacker. She’s been inside UNITED’s system for weeks, feeding them false leads on her whereabouts, siphoning info about the people in containment, and leaking inside bits about the vote.”

  One mystery solved. Kenly was the hacker wreaking all sorts of havoc inside UNITED. Maybe my mentee wasn’t the harmless kitten I’d thought.

  “She also found the transcript from your disciplinary hearing. That’s how we know you were incarcerated,” Riley continued, speaking fast and low. “She also installed a program designed to flag mentions of your name, and then send those files our way. That’s how we learned about your escape. I have to say, nice work with the pods. That program you wrote was brilliant. Even Kenly was impressed. And the telekinetic bit you did—jumping down that shaft without a chute.” Riley hugged himself and shuttered dramatically. “It gave me chills.”

  I smiled in spite of myself.

  “You should have seen the shenanigans she pulled to get us off Pelia,” Kip interjected.

  He didn’t sound nearly as awestruck as Riley had when talking about my abilities. Then again, the earthquake I’d conjured might have destroyed a large portion of Kip’s home.

  So, yeah, there was that.

  “So I guess Kenly is doing well,” I said, ignoring Kip’s commentary.