Caged (Talented Saga)

by Sophie Davis

  My throat was raw, and the ache in my chest was painful. My head began to feel like it might explode. Black spots dotted my vision like inkblots, slowly bleeding together until my family and Crane were only visible through spider-web-thin slits.

  “Please, Tal, come back to me,” the voice pleaded. The words increased the pounding in my head, and my desire to stay in Penny’s world gave way to a silent prayer for the blackness to take over. Just when I thought that my mind would split in two, the connection broke. My muscles turned to jello, and I collapsed against something hard as I finally lost consciousness.

  Epilogue

  Tramblewood Correctional Facility.

  With what little strength remained in her thin arms, she struggled in vain against the restraints that bound her wrists to the uncomfortable metal chair. Her fingers and toes tingled from sitting in the same position for so long. It wouldn’t take very long for her eyes to adjust, and she could make out the faint outline of the door. The grumbling in her empty stomach reminded her that her captors hadn’t fed her in hours ...or was it days? Time held little meaning for her anymore.

  Suddenly, the dank space was bathed in a harsh, blinding light. She squeezed her eyes shut against the painful shock to her retinas, barely managing to suppress a groan that threatened to escape her cracked lips.

  “Ms. Latimore, good to see you again,” a cold voice greeted her. He paused briefly, drinking in her emaciated appearance, and she took the opportunity to open one eye just a slit and chance a glance at her visitor. “Or should I say, Ms. Crane?” he continued, cocking his head to one side in a questioning gesture.

  The visitor was backlit, his features hidden in shadows, but she would’ve known his voice anywhere. She also knew that his question was rhetorical. He was taunting her, hoping that if he let her know that he knew who she really was, she might be more inclined to engage in the banter that had been one-sided thus far.

  “You are what, Ian’s niece, I assume?” he continued, taking several steps inside the room. The armed men flanking either side of the visitor advanced as well. One of his bodyguards moved to stand within arm’s reach of her chair. She scowled in his direction, but the guard’s face remained impassive.

  “Ian never had any children that I’m aware of, so I know that you are not his daughter, and you are too young to be his wife......” The hulking blonde man crossed one arm across his still-impressive chest, cupping the opposite elbow in his upturned palm. He tapped a large finger thoughtfully against his square jaw.

  “Regardless, whatever the relationship is, he must not hold you in very high regard. After all, it’s been, what? Two weeks? And there is no indication that he plans to come for you.”

  The sinister smile that spread across his face sent chills from the roots of her hair to the tips of her bare toes. Her resolve to not rise to his baiting weakened.

  The drugs that the prison guards were using to suppress her Talents had considerably weakened her gifts, but her anger and humiliation fueled a last-ditch effort. She focused every ounce of inner strength that she could muster to glom onto his morphing ability.

  Slowly her right arm began to tingle, and she knew that she still had some fight left. In the blink of an eye, a bluish-gray tentacle appeared where her arm had just been. The point of the tentacle was slick and narrow; while the bones of her wrist had been too large to slip through the cuff that was holding her to the chair, her new appendage was not. She whipped her tentacle free and flung it towards the visitor, wrapping it around his meaty neck. She squeezed. His eyes bulged, and panicked gasps echoed off the stone walls.

  The closer of the two guards was on her before she could even smile with satisfaction. He repeatedly struck the appendage with the butt of his rifle until the grip on her prey slackened. She was too fatigued to hold the morph any longer, and it wasn’t long before his gun made contact with her wrist instead of a tentacle.

  A shock of pain reverberated up her arm to her shoulder, and she yelped in spite of her resolution to remain silent. The guard quickly holstered his weapon and grabbed her forearm, twisting it painfully.

  “I should break it,” the guard growled, his breath hot and rancid next to her ear.

  She clenched her jaw against the mounting agony in her shoulder and tried to breathe through her mouth so she wouldn’t inhale any more of his noxious fumes. The guard didn’t release her; instead he looked to the visitor, now rubbing his throat, for direction. The visitor nodded, and the cracking of her radius filled her ears, followed by a pain so intense that her eyes poured tears. Despite her best efforts, she began to sob.

  Along with her cries, words that she’d longed to hurl at the hateful Director spewed from her pursed lips.

  “You’re one to lecture on the merits of a family tie,” she gasped, boldly meeting his eyes. “Look at what you’ve done to your own son!”

  The Director’s laugh contained no mirth. “I have given him the chance to be great, to be special,” he said quietly.

  “She knows,” Penny hissed as the guard finally released her now-broken arm. She cradled it in her lap, wishing that she’d go into shock, so that the limb would go numb.

  “Natalia? Natalia knows nothing.” Mac re-crossed his arms over his chest, and Penny could see the ring of bright red spots that her tentacle’s suckers had made on his exposed throat. Pleasure coursed through her frayed nerves.

  “I have made sure that she chalked your little episode in the courtroom up to the fantastic delusions of a very disturbed traitor.”

  It was Penny’s turn to laugh humorlessly.

  “You think that you have so much control over her, don’t you? But what you don’t understand is that deep down, she knows what you are. Once she is willing to admit that to herself, she’ll run.”

  Danbury McDonough’s eyes flickered with fear, belying the neutral tone in his voice when he shrugged and answered. “We’ll see.” He scrutinized her for a long moment. “Actually, I will see. You won’t be around to watch me crush the Coalition and Ian once and for all.”

  If her broken arm hadn’t been causing waves of nausea and dizziness to wash over her, she might’ve attempted another attack. As it was, the most that she could hope for was ruining his neatly tailored suit with projectile vomit. She cursed her weakness; she’d failed Talia too many times already. Now she could do nothing more than whimper as the man who’d been treating her best friend like a puppet for years succeeded in destroying the Coalition’s last hope at getting Talia to safety.

  Loud voices echoed through the hallway behind the Director. The high-pitched giggle that assaulted Penny’s ears sent a fresh wave of panic through her, and she visibly trembled.

  Danbury McDonough chuckled and stepped to one side to allow the new visitor and his entourage to enter the cell. The owner of the childlike voice was small, just over five feet. His boyish face was freckled and tan, his impossibly clear eyes sparkling with mischief. Penny wasn’t fooled; the man might look like he was twelve, but his real age was probably closer to forty. His deceptively youthful appearance wasn’t his only oddity. As a Mimic, Penny could always identify the exact abilities that another Talent possessed. But somehow, the man-boy’s gifts were impossible for her to pinpoint. He wasn’t a solitary Talent, that much she knew. It was the extent and nature of his abilities that confused her.

  “Penelope, you remember Dr. Wythe,” Danbury McDonough announced, clapping the shorter man on the back.

  “So we meet again, Ms. Crane,” Dr. Wythe greeted her, shoving his small hands into the front pockets of his gray dress pants.

  The pain in Penny’s arm paled in comparison to the memories of the torture-filled interrogations that she’d experienced at the hands of Dr. Wythe. The sessions always ended in the same way – with Penny blacking out. The only bright spot in her otherwise-bleak horizon was that he kept coming back; it meant that, despite his best efforts to physically extract her memories, he’d yet to uncover the information that Toxic desired.
r />   “I just came from a delightful morning with a mutual friend of ours,” he tempted, watching her closely with his unnerving eyes to gauge her reaction.

  The breath that she’d been about to take hitched in her throat. There was only one person he could be talking about: Talia. His strange, nearly translucent irises seemed to widen with delight at her reaction.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Penelope. My methods can be painless, almost pleasant even ...if I want them to be.” It was like he was reading her mind. Maybe he was – she thought that Telepathy was one of his Talents.

  “Leave Talia alone,” Penny hissed, renewed hatred causing her to fight against her restraints. She didn’t care what they did to her anymore; they were going to kill her anyway. But the thought that he was rifling around in Talia’s head was too much for her to bear.

  “Maybe I will. Maybe you and I can reach an accord, Ms. Crane. Tell me what I want to know,” he shrugged his narrow shoulders noncommittally, “and I’ll declare Ms. Lyons cured and end our sessions.”

  Penny contemplated his offer for one accelerated beat of her heart. Talia would never dredge up the memories that Dr. Wythe had forced her to repress if he kept “treating” her, but Penny divulging the Coalition’s confidential secretes wouldn’t help her Uncle Ian reach Talia either. Penny warred with her conflicting emotions. No, Talia was strong. No matter how good the man-boy was, Talia was better. Penny would just have to trust that Talia would allow herself to remember to understand.

  Penny straightened her spine, forcing her posture into a defiant and confident stance.

  “You’ll have to kill me first,” she declared, staring straight into the man’s imploring eyes.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Crane, we have big plans for you,” he said softly. “Now, let us begin.”

  Keep reading for a sneak peek at Hunted, the third installment in the Talented Saga!

  Chapter One

  “Do you have to go, Talia?” Kenly Baker whined for the hundredth time since she found out about my new assignment. She batted her long lashes, jutting out her lower lip as if she were five instead of sixteen. I rolled my eyes at her failed attempt at manipulation. She’d clearly forgotten who she was dealing with. I, of course, was a master manipulator; her efforts didn’t hold a candle to my abilities.

  “I have to, Kenly,” I soothed my protégé. “But like I’ve told you a million times, I’ll only be gone for three weeks. Donavon promised to oversee your training, and he has the practice schedule that I made. .You’ll be fine.”

  “I know, I know, but it’s not the same. He’s not you,” the younger girl pouted.

  “No, in many ways he’s better. He actually became a Hunter,” I reminded her - and myself - a little bitterly.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she grumbled, refolding a dress shirt from the pile on my bed.

  Guilt washed over me. As much as I wanted to get away from the School, I hated leaving Kenly. Over the past few weeks, she’d become more of a friend and less of a mentee. I knew she would never be the best friend and confidante that Penny had been, but Kenly put me at ease, and the calm that I felt while with her was a welcome respite. Training her soothed the hurt and confusion of Penny’s betrayal, and Kenly’s loyalty and dedication to the Agency helped renew my own.

  “You’ll be fine,” I promised, liberating the shirt from her long fingers before she could make any more creases in the soft fabric. I held up a basic black cocktail dress and matching jacket. “What do you think about this?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Kinda boring,” she mused, barely sparing the frock a second glance as she made her way across my bedroom. Kenly rifled through the assortment of garment bags in my walk-in closet.

  “How about this one?” She held up a long green silk dress with a cinched waist.

  Pursing my lips, I shook my head and returned my attention to the stacks of black pants and white shirts covering my king-sized bed. Tears stung the backs of my eyes and I blinked furiously to hold them at bay. The dress she’d selected brought bittersweet memories back.

  The first and only time I’d worn that dress was for Festivis two years ago. I was still a Hunter Pledge then, and Mac, the Director of Toxic, had given me and Penny permission to go into Washington, D.C. to celebrate. It had been an incredible day…but having spent it with Penny made the memory so conflicted. And it wasn’t just that one; every thought of Penny caused nauseating spasms to rip through my stomach, and ropes of anger, pain, and guilt to wrap around my lungs, making every breath that followed a chore. I’d thought that I knew her. I’d thought that she was my best friend. And until three weeks ago, she was. When I’d learned that Penny was the spy for the Coalition, the person responsible for my brush with death and subsequent health problems, I was livid. But when I confronted Penny, she’d pleaded with me to understand that Mac was not who I thought he was, and that the Agency couldn’t be trusted. I hadn’t known what to think then, and I still didn’t now.

  I wanted to hate her for her deception. I wanted to be happy that she was getting what she deserved, wanted to feel pride that I’d been the one to uncover her treachery. Yet every time that I tried to summon any of those emotions, I found it impossible. When I thought about Penny and the price she’d paid, I mostly felt disgust – for her, for me, for the Agency.

  “I just don’t understand why you’re taking all black,” Kenly commented, replacing the dress and drawing my attention back to her.

  “I’m going on assignment, Kenly. I’ll be working the entire time. It’s not as if this is a vacation,” I answered absently.

  “It’s not a funeral, either, Tal.”

  She rolled her large brown eyes. Kenly knew about Penny - it seemed to be the only thing anyone talked about anymore - but like everyone associated with Toxic, she didn’t understand why I grieved for a traitor. Sometimes I didn’t either.

  “Right, I guess you have a point,” I mumbled, gripping a shirt so tightly, the skin over my knuckles turned as white as the fabric. Kenly did have a point. Except, while it wasn’t a funeral I’d be attending, I was in mourning.

  I glanced at the communicator sitting on my bedside table - 3:12 p.m. I hugged myself to still the tremors starting in my limbs. Penny had been dead for just over ten hours.

  The memory of Penny pale and gaunt, in the courtroom on the day of her sentencing, haunted my dreams. I hated remembering her that way. When we’d first met, Penny was vivacious and carefree. I tried to concentrate on that version of my former best friend - so full of life. Thinking about the fun we’d had together, and how much she meant to me, I could almost block out the painful memories of the last time I saw her…almost.

  “It’s okay to miss her,” Kenly said, startling me out of my reverie once again.

  “Huh?”

  “I can tell you’re hurting, Tal. It’s because of her, right?” Kenly rarely said Penny’s name, if she mentioned her at all.

  I preferred it that way. I couldn’t stand the feelings that emanated from people when they thought about Penny. Some hated her. Some felt sorry for her. And worst of all, a lot felt sorry for me. I didn’t want anyone’s sympathy

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” I replied, more harshly than I intended. I knew Kenly was only trying to help, but I could feel her pity, and it made irrational anger bubble up in my stomach. Kenly paled.

  “Right. I’m sorry.”

  She turned away to hide her hurt feelings. The overload of emotions that I was already experiencing left no room for shame at the way I’d spoken to her.

  “You ready? Dad will be back soon,” a deep voice called from my sitting room.

  I looked up from the open suitcase that I had yet to actually pack. Donavon McDonough’s blonde head peeked through the open doorway. His bright blue eyes darkened as he took in my black pants, black sweater, and even blacker mood. Sympathy slipped through his mental barriers, washing over me in a cool embrace. I couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “Does it l
ook like I’m ready?” I snapped, gesturing to the clothes strewn across my burgundy comforter.

  “What can I do to help?” Donavon asked, lightening his tone.

  I sighed. First Kenly, now Donavon. I needed to get it together, or I wasn’t going to have any friends left. They weren’t the source of my irritation. In actuality, I wasn’t at all sure who I was really mad at, but I had plenty of options: Penny for lying, Mac for taking pleasure in extinguishing the life of another human being, or myself for being too trusting and weak.

  “Just promise me that you’ll make sure Kenly is ready for her Placement Exams,” I replied, glancing to where the younger girl stood in my closet, still studying my wardrobe.

  “Don’t worry, Kenly, you can count on me,” he called, pitching his voice so she’d be sure to hear. “I’m not as good as Tal, but I’ll do my best.”

  Kenly’s face flushed as she basked in his attention.

  God, don’t let her get distracted, I prayed.

  “Thanks, Donavon,” she mumbled, studying the plush carpeting beneath her feet, too shy to meet his eyes. Donavon had been helping me since I began coaching Kenly, but he still made her nervous.

  “Kenly, I think my mom made lunch. Why don’t you go get started while I help Tal finish packing?” Donavon suggested.

  Kenly nodded jerkily as she scurried from my bedroom.

  “How ya doing?” Donavon asked once we were alone.

  How was I doing? My best friend had just been executed, I wasn’t allowed to mourn her death openly, and I was so on edge that I rarely knew which way was up. I was doing just peachy. But I didn’t say any of that.

  “I’ve been better,” I answered instead, finally starting to jam the piles of clothes from my bed into the empty suitcase.