“It was a sort of attack,” Morgan began.
Lia snapped closed her math book. “So, we’re not studying.”
“An attack?”
Morgan nodded. “Someone was accessing my thoughts.”
“She says calmly.” Lucas let out a humorless laugh. “Unless—unless this isn’t the first time it’s happened?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before an incredulous look crossed his face. “Morgan! Please tell me that you told someone about this—Mr. K or Wen or—”
“I’m telling you, aren’t I?”
Lucas looked unconvinced. “Like you would’ve said anything if I didn’t see you mid-attack or whatever.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling Wen.”
Morgan covered his hand with hers. “Don’t.”
His hand shifted slightly, pressing a button and making his phone light up. But then he froze, eyes narrowing in confusion. “This has something to do with the text you sent us. You don’t trust them.”
The question was in his eyes, not his tone, and it took Morgan a moment to regain her bearings. With all that had happened since she left the school, she’d forgotten she sent them a message. Then there was the certainty with which Lucas spoke: it was as though he had sensed some of her thoughts.
Which, she realized, was entirely possible.
“When I went back… for my phone… I heard Mr. K and Miss Scotford talking—”
“So, what? You eavesdropped on them?” Lia asked, scandalized.
“Not on purpose,” Morgan defended. “It’s just—when I walked up, I heard them say my name. They were saying something about… redirecting my training after what happened when I Saw the other day. But then—then they mentioned my mom.”
Morgan waited for her words to take effect, but Lucas’s face remained passive while Lia’s held polite bewilderment.
“That makes sense,” Lia said. “After what happened at training when you Saw Orrick, of course it would cross your mind to look for your mom the same way. Of course they’d be worried—reaching out like that could be dangerous.”
Morgan shook her head. “You’re not understanding me—they weren’t just mentioning her in passing or something. They know things about her. They know things they’re not telling us.”
“Not telling you,” Lucas corrected softly.
She pressed her lips together in a tight line and surveyed Lucas’s face. He hadn’t said it to injure her, she could tell, but his words still stung. But, really, she shouldn’t be surprised: realistically, she was the only one who cared about her mother’s whereabouts. Lucas, Lia, and Corbin had no emotional stake in her search. Straightening her spine, she took a breath. “Well, if they’re not telling me information about my mom, then think of all the things they might be keeping from you.”
Lia stiffened in her chair. “Well, I’m sure if they’re keeping something from you—from any of us—they have a good reason for it.”
Morgan rubbed her temples. “Of course that’s what you’re gonna say. You’re, like, hardwired to believe whatever adults tell you or something.”
A wounded look spread across Lia’s face and she opened her mouth to respond, but Lucas cut her off.
“What is it that they know about your mom? What exactly are they keeping from you?”
Momentarily taken aback by the question, Morgan didn’t respond right away. Of course he would ask her this, it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But as the information pushed itself to the forefront of her mind, she could already feel his response formulating. The expectant look on his and Lia’s faces pressed the words from her mouth. “They know she’s safe.”
“What was that?” Lia asked, her too-loud voice laced with irritation.
“She said they know her mom’s safe.” Lucas’s eyes didn’t leave Morgan’s face. “You understand why they haven’t told you this, right?”
“No. If they know she’s okay, why wouldn’t they tell me so I can stop worrying?”
The corners of Lucas’s mouth upturned briefly. “And you’re prepared to leave it at that?” He shook his head. “You’re not wondering how they know or who told them or how, if they know she’s safe, they don’t know where she is? I can see why they’d wanna keep this from you. And if you let yourself think about it logically, you can see it too.”
“I can see it.” Lia turned her attention back to her color-coded notes.
“You know you’ve gotta tell them about the attack, right?”
Morgan’s shoulders slumped. She knew she’d lost the argument, so she said the only thing she could: “Yeah, I know.”
Lucas surveyed her face for a moment more before picking up his backpack, her response clearly having satisfied him.
There was a knock at the door. Without waiting for a response, Mrs. Roderick pushed it open and stood in the doorway, smiling, holding a tray laden with glasses of water and a variety of fruits and cheeses. “I brought snacks,” she announced.
Lia’s smile looked just the slightest bit forced. “Thanks, Mom.”
Dutifully, Morgan and Lucas murmured their thanks as well. Mrs. Roderick set the tray on the desk and surveyed the room carefully before leaving, being sure to keep the door ajar.
Lia picked up an apple slice. “Lucas, could you take a look at my work and make sure I’m doing it right?”
Lucas moved to Lia’s side to go over her equations and Morgan reviewed her notes. After a few minutes, she realized she couldn’t really focus. Absently, she reached for some fruit. As she put the grapes to her lips, she felt a pang. If things were different and Chelsea had never left home, would they be having this study session at Morgan’s house? Would it be her mother who spent half an hour vacuuming and prepared refreshments for a study session?
It should be enough to know her mother was safe. Shouldn’t it? Safe was far more palatable than the alternative. If she was safe, there was the possibility that she could return one day.
Still, why couldn’t the Watchers just tell her that? From the conversation she overheard, it was clear that Mr. K cared for her. Why wouldn’t he want to give her the tiniest bit of reassurance?
Unless he didn’t trust her. And if he didn’t trust her, how could she trust him?
At that moment, she knew that despite what she told Lucas, she would not tell anyone about the attack. If they could pick and choose the information she needed to know, she could do the same.
Chapter Fourteen
Since the living room and dining room had been painted, Morgan avoided spending time in either of them. Though all the furniture was back in its original positions, the rooms felt alien to her and she couldn’t get comfortable in them. It was as if she were visiting someone else’s house and that person would get upset if she put her feet up on the couch as she usually did or if she snacked while watching TV.
But that night, when she got home from studying, she couldn’t evade the dining room. Dylan brought home Chinese food and insisted they eat together.
Morgan had eaten her egg roll and was started on her chicken fried rice when Dylan cleared his throat.
“Are you mad at me?”
She looked up at him, startled. “Mad at you?”
He put down his fork. “You just… You’ve kind of been avoiding me all week. You’re spending all your time in your room. Are you mad because I painted?”
“No,” Morgan said quickly. “It’s just… it still smells like paint in here.” The statement was true, even if the smell didn’t bother her. The fact of the matter was that she was avoiding her father. She was afraid that if he looked at her in just the right way, she would tell him about Chelsea being safe. And if she told him that, she would have to tell him everything. But she couldn’t give that as her explanation. “The paint smell kind of gives me a headache.”
Dylan studied her for a few moments. “I just feel like we don’t talk anymore.”
Morgan sighed. “I know. It’s just… this year’s been kind of stressful so far, you know?”
<
br /> He nodded. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
A soft laugh escaped Morgan’s lips. There were so many things she couldn’t talk to him about that she didn’t know where to begin. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “I know.”
He continued to study her for a few seconds before picking up his fork and resuming his General Tso’s chicken. “So,” he said between mouthfuls, “I’m thinking of taking a camping trip this weekend. Kyle was talking about going. Doing a little fishing, you know.”
Morgan nodded. “Sounds fun.”
“But, I’m not sure I should go.”
She made a face. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “I don’t want to leave you here alone if… you know… you need me.”
She surveyed him for a moment, fearing where this conversation could be going. If he was under the impression her distance was because of some guy, he might feel that now, over Chinese food, was the appropriate time to bring up safe sex practices. She didn’t know if her stomach could take it. “I’ll be fine, Dad. It’s not like I haven’t stayed home alone before.” And it was true: Dylan had taken weekend-long camping trips before and left her at home without supervision. Besides, with all the Watchers stationed in the neighborhood, she would probably be safer now than ever.
“I don’t know. Maybe you could stay with Ashleigh and Wes?”
“Dad,” Morgan said, employing her best are-you-kidding-me tone. “Totally unnecessary. Maybe I’ll have Ris over and we can have an epic sleepover.”
Her father still looked unsure.
“Seriously,” she pressed. “It’s been too long since Ris and I had a crazy night of ice cream and lame movies. So, see? It’s fine. Go on your trip. You deserve some guy-time with Kyle. You didn’t go camping once this summer.”
“It’s true,” Dylan conceded.
“And I’ve got some English stuff due next week, so I’ll probably be at my desk most the weekend anyway.” Though not technically true, Morgan thought it a judicious use of a lie.
It seemed to work. Dylan nodded slightly. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
Morgan smiled as she turned her attention back to her fried rice. “We’ll see” was Dylan-ese for “yes.”
Later that night, Morgan lay in bed, thoughts chasing each other through her mind. Should she tell someone about Dylan going out of town for the weekend? If she did, she wasn’t sure that Wen or Mr. K would be okay with it. Would they insist she tell him he shouldn’t go? Would they have her stay the night somewhere—perhaps with Lia? While Morgan would admit the two of them were on the road to becoming friends, she wasn’t sure how comfortable she would be with a sleepover with Lia.
Besides, was extra precaution really necessary? With all the Watchers in the area, did the absence of Dylan really make her more unsafe? If Orrick really wanted to come get her, what exactly could Dylan do, anyway? Being common, he could be easily Pushed or Moved to keep him out of the way while Morgan was taken…
She shook the idea from her head. Orrick wouldn’t come for her here, she convinced herself. Of all the places she spent time, her home had to be the best protected, didn’t it?
That settled it. Morgan decided she wouldn’t mention to anyone that Dylan would be out of town. She wouldn’t lie if directly asked, of course, but she felt that a weekend alone would be nice. No worrying about her dad and how he might be worrying about her, no having to act like everything was okay with Ris, no lectures about what she should and shouldn’t do from Lucas or Lia or Corbin.
Yes, time alone was what she needed.
***
As Morgan lay in bed that night, she couldn’t get comfortable. No matter how she moved, her body wouldn’t relax. She had a feeling this problem was less physical than mental: The information she’d gained from her conversation with Dylan about her mother had been attempting to push its way to the forefront of her thoughts since the weekend. Images of Orrick Williams floated through her mind. She was again reminded of what he said about him being her father. Irritated, she kicked at her blankets. If only she talk to her mother. Though Lucas had been right—she should be happy to know that her mother was safe—she felt her life could be so much easier if she could just have a conversation with her.
She rolled over in bed once more, determined to clear her mind. She began breathing in the rhythmic way she did before a reading, and slowly, slowly, her mind stilled.
Morgan walked down an unfamiliar street. The houses were large and beautifully built, but in disrepair. Some had boards up over broken windows, others had gaping holes in the roofs. Only a handful of houses looked well-kept enough to be habitable. It was to one of these houses she was drawn. The siding was stormy grey and the trim white. Flower pots lined the wooden staircase leading up to the large porch. Morgan walked up to the house and, without knocking, entered.
The interior was worn, but warm, comfortable. She walked into the room to her right. Sunlight fell in shafts across the floor, across the floral-printed sofa, across the afghan-covered recliner. On a rocking chair in the corner sat a woman who stared out the window, rocking gently. She was wrapped in a soft grey sweater, her brown hair twisted into a bun at the crown of her head. Slowly, silently, Morgan crossed the room. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt she needed to see the woman. She felt as if the woman were the reason she was here.
A cell phone rang and Morgan jumped. The woman removed the phone from a nearby table and brought it to her ear.
“Yes,” she said by way of greeting. Her voice had a note of sadness to it, but Morgan had a feeling it had once been beautiful, musical even.
The woman listened intently to what was being said by the person on the other line. “What about the safeguards?” She listened again. “And the current security?” She sighed. “I suppose… Yes… No—no. That wouldn’t help things. In fact, it would probably make them worse.” She stood, placing her free hand on the windowsill. “I’m relying on you to keep me informed. After what happened at Desideration Tower…” She paused, nodding. “See that they are. They need to be your number one priority. She needs to be.” She took the phone from her ear and replaced it on the table. Tapping her fingers softly on the windowsill, she turned and faced Morgan.
Morgan felt all the breath leave her lungs. Standing before her was her mother.
Morgan awoke with a start, drawing in a gasping breath. She looked around the darkened room and it took a moment for her to realize she was in her own bedroom. Panting heavily, she tried to catch her breath.
Her mother. She’d seen her mother.
It shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did that her mother seemed to be living in moderate comfort in a grey-sided house on a nearly-deserted street. Hadn’t she heard her mother was safe? But, as they say, seeing is believing. And the sight of her mother filled her chest with a such a swelling hope she thought she might burst.
But who had she been talking to? And what had she been talking about? Morgan searched her memory, but key parts of the conversation slipped away from her. The more she tried to focus, the more detail she felt she lost. She was only sure about two things: Chelsea had been concerned about something, and she wanted to be kept apprised about a situation. But by whom? Who was she in contact with?
When she overheard Mr. K say something about a source, she had assumed he meant a Watcher—perhaps a Seer or a Knower—who had visions of her mother being safe. But her dream forced her to rethink this: perhaps the source was the person on the phone.
And that thought left only one question in Morgan’s mind: Who was the source?
Chapter Fifteen
Morgan considered carefully who to tell about her dream. Despite her previous feelings that it was fair for her to keep things from the Watchers, her first thought was to tell Wen or Mr. K or Miss Scotford. She even had her phone in her hand, Wen’s number pulled up, before she decided against it. She realized there was a strong probability that, instead of being impressed by Morgan’s growth in
abilities, the three of them would be angry and reprimand her for being reckless. Even though she hadn’t necessarily willfully disobeyed them—after all, she hadn’t Seen Chelsea while she was awake—she didn’t think they would appreciate that she couldn’t control her dreams. In fact, as reluctant as she was to admit it to herself, if she had been keeping up the wall like Kellen had told her, she would never have had the vision to begin with.
No, what she needed was the help of her Naturals. In this moment, that was actually how she referred to them in her mind. Though it seemed a little awkward, she reasoned that was what they were, according to the Prophecy, anyway. They were supposed to help her—to make her stronger.
She considered her options. There was Lia, who had extended the hand of friendship to Morgan. But Lia was also a teacher’s pet by nature, and Morgan wasn’t positive she could trust her to not tell the Watchers. That left the decision between Corbin and Lucas.
After the Senior Math test, she almost told Lucas. To kill time before the end of the hour, they were passing a note to each other. He had just passed the picture back. He had added a Tyrannosaurus to a hilltop. He was looking so expectant when he handed the paper to her, for a moment, she was sure he was waiting for her to tell him about the dream. But then she felt it—subtle, but there: She Felt Lucas’s mirth at the thought of what he’d draw next. For a moment, she was taken aback; it was so seldom she Felt anything from Lucas, so good was he at keeping a wall up around his mind. Then she turned her attention to the drawing. Besides, based on their conversation yesterday, he would probably just insist she tell the Watchers, and then it would come out that she still hadn’t told them about the attack.
A note came to Morgan and Lia during sixth hour JY. Morgan was surprised to learn that Mr. K and Miss Scotford had set up a training session for that afternoon. Wednesday had gone so well, she supposed she just imagined that would mean they’d be given a break as a reward.
“Nah,” Lucas said when Morgan voiced this idea on the way to the training house. “I bet they wanna strike while the iron’s hot, you know? Now that we’re all feeling so empowered about our success yesterday, they want us to keep the momentum going.”
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