Run to You Part Six: Sixth Sense

by Clara Kensie

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Mom relented to my appearance in the Underground’s visiting room because I brought her two coveted gifts: Jillian and Logan. She even sobbed a thank you.

  The warden wouldn’t let them hug. “No touching,” he grunted, as usual. Four guards stood against the wall with their tranq guns loaded, and Tristan remained on the do-not-allow list. He waited just outside.

  The stainless steel table glittered and glowed in the gray cinder-block room. Jillian, Logan and I huddled on one side of it, and Mom was shackled to her chair on the other.

  “This is where they’re keeping you?” Jillian whimpered. She peered from behind her limp brown hair at the knobless door, the intrusive security cameras, the scowling guards. “They took away your PK?”

  Mom looked at her hands, chained to her waist. “They took everything away.”

  “Tell us Tessa’s wrong, Mom,” Logan said, sitting straight on his metal chair. With white knuckles, he clutched the green evidence binder. It trembled in his grip, like he was trying very hard not to rip it apart. “Tell us everything in this binder is false. Tell us you didn’t cut those scars into Tessa’s stomach. Tell us you didn’t kill all those people. Tell us you didn’t lie to us our entire lives.”

  Jillian sniffled. “Tell us you didn’t kill Gavin.”

  A tear trailed down Mom’s cheek as she shook her head.

  She’s going to lie to them, I flashed to Tristan.

  You need to convince her to tell them the truth. Otherwise—

  “Mom,” I said. “Tell them the truth.” The lies were awful. The truth was agonizing. But they still needed to know it.

  “We attacked the manager of a motel because we thought he was there to kill us,” Logan said. “We threw some guy’s car off a cliff. Mom. Please tell us we didn’t hurt innocent people.”

  “Tell them the truth,” I said. “You owe them the truth.”

  Mom wouldn’t look at me. Her anguished gaze fluttered to guards, then to the door, then locked onto Jillian’s identical gray eyes.

  My sister gave a tiny little nod, and the door started to rumble.

  “Jillian,” I whispered. “Are you doing that?”

  The locked door trembled. Buckled.

  “Jillian,” I hissed. “Stop it. Don’t.” Tristan she’s breaking our mother out you need to stop her.

  Mr. Milbourne shouted, and the guards pulled their guns, each aiming at one of us: Jillian, Logan, my mother and me.

  Tristan! I cried.

  Logan flicked his hand at each of the guards, and the barrels of their guns bent up with a screech and Mom’s shackles fell off with a clatter. The table slid across the floor, barricading the guards against the wall.

  The door exploded open with a tremendous boom, and I screamed for the first time since I was unconscious in the Underground. “Tristan!”

  Jillian grabbed my arm with an unyielding grip and pulled me from the chair. “Go. Run!”

  “Mom,” I cried as Jillian dragged me to the door. “Tell them the truth. Do you really want this kind of life for us again? Running and aliases and never being safe?”

  The guards shouted and struggled, but using only his open palm, Logan used the table to hold them against the back wall. He backed toward the door. “Mom, get up! Let’s go!”

  Underneath all the screaming and screeching and shouting, there was a whisper, just one word, one syllable. It came from our mother, and it made everything fall silent:

  “No.”

  Jillian froze. “Mom?”

  Mom was staring longingly at the door, and even though her shackles had fallen away, she hadn’t moved from her chair. “Everything Tessa told you is true,” she said. “Your dad and I are guilty.”

  Logan’s hand dropped to his side.

  The table dropped to the floor.

  Jillian dropped her grip on my arm.

  She dropped to her knees.

  Now they knew. They knew the truth. They knew our parents were killers. They knew their whole lives had been a lie.

  The guards brushed themselves off, and from down the hall came the echoed sound of rushing, booted footsteps. A new guard rushed into the visitors’ room, his beady eyes barely visible under his large forehead, muscles so large that his black T-shirt strained against them.

  “Jillian, Logan, come to me,” Mom said, calmly, from the chair. She patted her lap. “Babydoll, you too.”

  My siblings and I knelt around our mother. Jillian buried her face in her lap. Logan’s chin was thrust out like he was trying not to cry. I brought in the fog to numb the pain. I took their hands, trying to comfort them.

  Mom smoothed Jillian’s hair. “Your dad and I did some horrible things. We hurt a lot of people, and I regret it. I regret every single moment.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “Most of all, I regret hurting you. I only wanted to keep our family together. But you three are together now, and that’s what’s important.”

  Jillian sobbed. I expected the table and everything else that wasn’t bolted down to start vibrating, but nothing did.

  “I’m going to stay here with your father,” Mom said, “where we belong. But you three, I want you to leave this place. Leave here and never come back. Not because I don’t love you, but because I do.” She cupped my cheek with her hand, and something inside me broke free. “I want you to go live the life I should have given you a long time ago. A normal life. A peaceful life. A happy life.”

  Mr. Milbourne came at her with handcuffs, and she wiped her tears before meekly offering her wrists to him. She sniffled one last time as he locked them on.

  Mom looked to Logan. “Kiss me goodbye?”

  With tight lips, he stared hard at an invisible spot on the ground and shook his head.

  She sighed resignedly. “Jillian?”

  Jillian covered her face in her hands and gave an aching, breathless sob, then turned away, too devastated to make anything tremble except for herself. I put my arms around my grieving sister.

  “Babydoll?” Mom quivered.

  I patted Jillian and murmured that I would be right back, then obediently hugged our mother. Kissed her cheek. She was setting us free. It didn’t change anything; it didn’t negate her lifetime of lies. It didn’t bring back the people she’d killed.

  But maybe she hadn’t rejected me during my last visit, when she told me to leave and never come back. Maybe, for the first time in her life, she had been trying to do the right thing: to be a good mother.

  “You’re the strong one now, Tessa,” she whispered in my ear. “Take care of your brother and sister.”

  “I will,” I said. “I promise.”

  She kissed my cheek one last time, and Mr. Milbourne took her away.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I helped Jillian and Logan up from the concrete floor of the Underground’s visiting room, and the enormous, beady-eyed guard escorted us through the exit that used to be a locked door before Jillian blew it up. My siblings went without protest, their gazes blank. I was a little stunned too, but they had been assaulted with so much new, agonizing information, no wonder they were in shock.

  Now Tristan and I would bring them home. Deirdre would set up cots for them, and while they slept, Dennis would come back from Star River. Then together, we would help them heal.

  But Tristan wasn’t there, waiting outside the door.

  “Tristan?” My voice echoed down the dim and musty hallway.

  “He’s in Milbourne’s office,” the guard said. “I’m supposed to bring you there.”

  “Is he okay?” I asked as we followed him. “Did he get hurt when the door exploded?” But as I said it, I knew the answer. Something like that wouldn’t happen to Tristan. He’d get a warning premonition first.

  �
�Some guards brought him there when things got out of hand in the visiting room,” he said, and ushered Jillian, Logan and me in.

  Tristan sat across from the warden’s streamlined desk. Knees wide, head down. When we came in, he lifted his head. “Tessa—”

  That’s when I saw his arms were behind his back, handcuffed to the chair.

  A smirking Nathan Gallagher was standing on the other side of the office, and next to him was John Kellan.

  I pushed my siblings behind me.

  How did Kellan get here? I flashed to him. He’s supposed to be in Star River. Was it Mrs. Jacobs? She called him back after she saw us at Hawthorne’s, didn’t she?

  It was Nathan. Tristan shook his head with disgust. He saw your doodles on your geometry homework at Hawthorne’s and figured it out. And then he safeguarded Kellan when he got to the Underground. He tugged at the handcuffs. He sneaked up on me and I never saw him coming. “I’m sorry,” he said aloud. “I can’t stop this from happening.”

  “Stop what from happening?” Jillian asked, her voice high with panic.

  Kellan approached us, drawing something from his jacket. A gun? A real gun?

  “I can’t shoot to kill unless someone’s life is in jeopardy,” he said, reading my mind. “Fortunately for them, and no thanks to you, we are able to take them into custody without incident.” He pulled two pairs of handcuffs from his jacket and let them dangle from his fingers.

  Jillian whimpered, and Logan stiffened. “Custody? Tessa, what is he talking about?”

  “Don’t bother trying to use your PK, hotshot,” Kellan said, and gestured to the hulking guard in the doorway. “This guy’s inhibiting it.”

  “But they know the truth now,” I said. “They won’t hurt anyone. I’m taking them home.”

  “They’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Not after what they did to Aaron Jacobs. Jillian and Logan Carson are dangerous criminals. I may not be able to shoot to kill, but I can neutralize and incarcerate them. They’re staying right here in the Underground.”

  He grabbed Jillian and she screamed, and the guard grabbed Logan’s arm in one meaty hand.

  “Take them off,” Jillian cried as Kellan handcuffed her. “Please. Please!” She closed her eyes and held her breath, the way she activated her PK when she was little, but the chains didn’t fall away. Logan tried to fight, but the guard easily apprehended him, too. They struggled powerlessly, screaming and shouting, as Kellan and the guard dragged them toward the door. Nathan sneered and followed close behind.

  Tristan wrestled helplessly against his own restraints. Tessa, I’m sorry, I can’t help, there’s nothing I can do....

  I’d promised my mother I would take care of Jillian and Logan. I could not let Kellan tow them away and neutralize them and toss them into tiny gray cells. I raced to the doorway, throwing my arms wide to block their exit. “No!”

  But I was like a hummingbird trying to stop a stampede of elephants. Tristan shouted a warning a millisecond before Kellan pushed me aside, and I stumbled to the floor.

  He glowered down at me. “You sent me across the country when you knew the targets were coming here.” He swung his pointed finger at me, then at Tristan. “You both impeded my investigation. So did Dennis. I should arrest the three of you for obstruction of justice.”

  “You will do no such thing,” a voice echoed from down the hall. Beverly Jacobs strode over to us, her gold Executive Director badge pinned to her starched white shirt, her face hard and still as ice.

  “It’s not justice you’re seeking, John,” she said. “It’s vengeance. You want the Carsons to suffer, and they have. We’ve all suffered. Let the kids go.”

  “They’re psychokinetic, Beverly,” Kellan said. “They’re dangerous.”

  Mrs. Jacobs raised one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. “Are you saying all psychokinetics are dangerous? I’m not dangerous.” She gave the smallest of glances to Jillian and Logan’s handcuffs, and they broke apart and fell to the floor with a metallic clang. She did the same for Tristan.

  “Even the friendliest dog will bite when threatened, John,” she said. “Jillian and Logan Carson were dangerous because they were being pursued. I stand by our policy to use deadly force if innocent lives are at risk. But they are no longer being pursued. They are no longer a threat. Under no circumstances will you neutralize and incarcerate them.”

  “But they tried to kill Aaron,” Kellan said, his mouth agape behind his red beard. “Your son.”

  “There you go again with the vengeance,” she said. “What they did to Aaron was a regrettable but warranted act of self-defense.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to go home now to take care of him. He’s in a lot of pain today.”

  Jillian gave a soft cry and covered her mouth with her hand. “The boy from the car? He’s your son?” she whimpered. “Please, please, ma’am, please tell him we’re sorry.”

  Mrs. Jacobs gave her a tiny nod. There was no warmth in that nod, no softening of her features. It was simply an acknowledgment of their shared distress.

  Tristan put me under his arm. “Come on, guys,” he said wearily. “Let’s go home.”

  Now Kellan and Nathan were the helpless ones. They could do nothing but watch us walk away.

  “It’s not over, Spawn,” Nathan shouted as we turned the corner. “Now there’s three of you infesting my town.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  We went home, and slept. We’d all been awake for too long. So much had happened since we last slept. I got my brother and sister back. They learned some agonizing truths. Our mother sent us away in an act of love. They were apprehended in an act of revenge, then freed in an act of magnanimity.

  And through it all, Tristan was there. Supporting me. Loving me.

  Jillian and Logan slept on the cots Dennis and Deirdre had set up for them in the family room. I wasn’t ready to leave them, not even to sleep in my room right upstairs, so I curled up on the couch with Marmalade. Tristan reclined on the La-Z-Boy, close enough that we could reach out and hold hands. I woke up sometime in the darkness when he squeezed onto the couch with me.

  You okay? he asked, entwining his fingers in mine. About your mom?

  Yeah, I replied silently, and sighed aloud. She did the right thing. For the first time in her life.

  Logan stirred in his sleep, muttering, and Jillian whimpered.

  What about them? he asked. Think they’ll be okay?

  Eventually.

  My brother and sister were just starting to grieve. They might even have their own versions of the Nightmare Eyes. And Tristan and I, along with Dennis, Deirdre and Ember, would help them through it.

  Thank you for helping me find them, I said. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Kellan today. And Nathan...

  I deflected his regret with a kiss. You helped me get my brother and sister back. That’s what’s important.

  Marmalade purred. I scratched her behind her ears, then snuggled into Tristan. I put my head on his shoulder and fell back to sleep.

  * * *

  Jillian seemed better when she woke up later that day. Still devastated, but she managed a small smile when Deirdre offered her a bowl of ramen noodles and a PB&J for lunch. She liked Marmalade a lot, and held her on her lap. She kept looking at Ember’s hair, which was purple today. She brought her hand up to her own brown hair. “I can go back to blond now,” she murmured.

  Ember showed her pink electric guitar to Logan. With her cheeks flushed almost the same shade, she asked him to demonstrate the music prowess I’d bragged about. “Tessa said you can play any instrument,” she said. “Will you show me? I also have a classical guitar if you’d rather play that.”

  Logan just shook his head.

  They kept staring at Dennis, who wa
s tired and pale from his trip to Star River and chasing Kellan back home, but was patiently trying to build their trust. It would take longer than a few hours to erase eight years of fear.

  Neither of them wanted to visit our father. He wouldn’t send them away—even if he was conscious, he wouldn’t send them away, I was sure—but it would also take longer than a few hours to erase their heartache over his crimes and lies and betrayal.

  They both stiffened instinctively whenever we used their real names. I made sure to say them a lot so they’d get used to it. I showed them my paintings and demonstrated my retrocognition a few times. They were very impressed, and I was very proud.

  I offered to bring them to school to show them my fruit mural and to Hawthorne’s to have a slice of blueberry pie. Tristan offered to show them around Lilybrook and give them a tour of the APR, but they declined it all. “You don’t have to hide anymore,” I reminded them, but I didn’t push it. They needed time to get used to the idea.

  The next morning was a school day, but except for Ember, Dennis and Deirdre didn’t make us go. Instead, they allowed us to continue our reunion at home. Dennis and Deirdre went to buy two beds to replace the cots. Dennis wanted to build a couple of bedrooms in the basement, but for now, Jillian would sleep in my room, and Logan would bunk with Tristan.

  Jillian and Logan didn’t come downstairs after taking their showers, so I went upstairs to find them. They were in my room. Jillian cooed at Marmalade, rubbed under her chin, then stood at the mirror over the dresser to brush her hair, which she had already dyed back to blond. Another night’s sleep had done wonders for her: no longer huddled into herself, she’d regained her confident ballerina posture with shoulders back and chin up. Logan sat on my bed, tying his worn sneakers.

  Their scuffed getaway bags hovered in the air behind him, his packed neatly and zipped up, hers unzipped with toiletries sticking out and one red sleeve dangling from the top. The duffle bag full of cash sat on my bed.

  Instantly alarmed, I asked, “What are you doing?”