Unlocked 8.5 (Keeper of the Lost Cities)

by Shannon Messenger

  He sank onto the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands and closing his eyes.

  “Oh goody, looks like we’re back to the overthinking,” Ro announced, and a burst of her annoyance hit Keefe like a gut-punch.

  It took all of his willpower not to shout back, Of course I’m overthinking—I could turn everyone into mindless murderers for my mommy if I don’t figure out how to stop this!

  “Hey,” Dex said—and when Keefe didn’t respond, the bed shifted, like Dex had sat down beside him. “I’ll see what I can come up with, okay? And if I can’t figure it out, I’ll check with Tinker. Or I can always have Sophie enhance me. Sometimes that helps me find the right answer.”

  The promise should’ve made Keefe feel better—especially since he wasn’t picking up any pity in the air.

  But his brain was too stuck on the word “enhance.”

  What would happen if Sophie enhanced his ability?

  He did not want to find out.

  And there were only two ways to make sure that never happened.

  He could stay away from Sophie from now on, or…

  He cleared his throat and raised his head, trying to focus on calm, steady breaths.

  “Wait—I think he’s going to speak again!” Ro called out.

  He was, because this request was too important to risk any misunderstanding.

  In fact, it required a whole sentence.

  He cleared his throat again, lowering his voice to something barely more than a whisper as he said, “I need you to make me an ability restrictor.”

  And whoa, did he get hit with worry, anger, and panic.

  His ears rang and his vision dimmed and he sucked in a long, deep breath as Dex jumped to his feet and told him, “I’m never making one of those again!”

  Keefe wasn’t surprised.

  The other ability restrictor that Dex had made was an epic disaster and had left Sophie powerless and in a whole lot of pain. Their entire group also had to flee the Lost Cities after Dex defied the Council and destroyed the gadget.

  But this was different.

  This new ability needed to be restricted.

  And it was only a matter of time before the Council realized that and locked Keefe away somewhere.

  “Please,” he whispered, keeping the word barely audible. “You can find a way to key it to my DNA, so it’ll only work on me.”

  Dex shook his head so hard it made his ears jiggle. “Then the Council could have one of their Technopaths figure out a way around that. Or copy my design and build a bunch more—why do you think I threw the other one into the fire?”

  His resolve felt like a wall between them.

  “Please,” Keefe begged again, trying to wear Dex down with as few words as possible.

  But Dex’s determination strengthened, and Keefe could tell that nothing he could say would get through.

  Unless…

  His heart started racing and his palms started sweating and he felt a thought start itching in the back of his brain.

  No—not a thought.

  A word.

  A word that Keefe refused to acknowledge because he knew it was his need taking over again, and if he said the word, it would smash through Dex’s doubts and make him cooperate.

  But he couldn’t shove the word out of his mind either, because the need kept reminding him that if Dex wouldn’t make him an ability restrictor, he could never see Sophie again.

  He’d probably never be able to see anyone.

  Those were his only options.

  He had to make Dex understand.

  Had to. Had to. Had to.

  The command burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back, hacking and coughing as the unspoken word caught in his throat.

  His instincts were screaming at him to stop resisting, but he slammed his fist into his chest, and the pain distracted him enough to make the word fade.

  “Whoa, easy, boy,” Ro said, grabbing Keefe’s arm to stop him from hitting himself again. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  Keefe shook his head, feeling tears pour down his cheeks as the rest of him collapsed into Ro, clinging to her as hard as he could.

  “Uh, I’m not much of a hugger,” Ro warned.

  But she also twisted Keefe’s head so it rested on her shoulder, away from the spikes on her armor. And mixed with her surprise and awkwardness was a tangle of anger and concern so tightly woven together that they felt almost solid.

  Protective.

  Which was good, because Keefe couldn’t let go.

  Couldn’t move.

  Could barely open his eyes—but he made himself focus on Dex, pouring the full force of his plea into his stare.

  Ro whistled. “Wow, now that’s what desperation looks like.”

  “It is,” Dex agreed, dragging his hands down his face so hard, his fingers left little red lines. “But you don’t understand what you’re asking for, Keefe. You weren’t there in Magnate Leto’s office when the Council made me put the ability restrictor back on Sophie. Even with the adjustments I made, I could tell it was super painful—and I don’t think I can fix that. I also can’t control which abilities it blocks. I’d have to restrict all your abilities.”

  “I don’t think my boy cares,” Ro said quietly. “But you know what, Hunkyhair?” She grabbed Keefe’s shoulders and leaned him back, so he’d have to look at her. “I think you should care. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I’ll always think you elves put way too much emphasis on your little ability things. But I’ve also been here long enough to see how much drama it causes if you don’t have them—and you have enough drama in your life already. Plus… you do have abilities. They’re part of you. It never goes well trying to fight who you are—trust me on that.”

  Keefe jerked away and sank onto his bed, curling into a ball and wishing he could shout, THIS ISN’T WHO I AM—MY MOM CHANGED ME.

  But… did she?

  Or had she just activated something that had always been there?

  Some awful, creepy thing she’d planned from the beginning?

  And did it matter?

  This was his life now.

  He had to deal with it.

  Dex sank onto the bed next to him again. “Wow. You’re really scared. I’m not even an Empath, and I can feel it.”

  “So can I,” Ro mumbled, and the protective energy in the air ramped up a bit.

  Which made Keefe want to deny it—want to smirk and crack a joke like he always did.

  But those things felt like they belonged to a different life.

  Seconds ticked by.

  Finally Dex said, “Okay. I get it. Elwin described what happened yesterday, and… yeah, it’s pretty terrifying. But… you just manifested yesterday, you know? You haven’t given the ability any time to settle. You don’t even know exactly what the ability is, or have a name for it yet! And you haven’t tried whatever concoctions Elwin and my dad are making right now. You also haven’t let me see if I can come up with some gadgets to help—or some elixirs. I make a lot of those, too—and I’m pretty good at it. And you haven’t tried training. So… can’t we start with all of that? Before we try anything more drastic?”

  “Come on, Hunkyhair,” Ro said, shaking his shoulder. “Your techy friend is right. You’re giving up way too easily. Where’s the stubborn guy who set the record for detentions at your fancy elf-y academy? The guy who’s spent years finding creative ways to annoy his jerk of a dad instead of giving in and cooperating?”

  “The guy who spent weeks setting up for the Great Gulon Incident,” Dex added, nudging Keefe with his elbow. “I know I wasn’t there for that, but I’ve heard lots of stories. And I know you planned it so perfectly that Dame Alina never found enough proof to nail you for it.”

  Ro laughed. “Sounds like someone needs to give me the details on this gulon thing I keep hearing about someday. But right now”—she dragged Keefe up to a sitting position—“you need to get your fight back. I didn’t leave my home and suffer all these mon
ths in Sparkle Town so I could protect some boy who gives up the second things get tough. I came here to protect the scrawny elf who beat my dad in a sparring match, because I figured that guy might be someone worth keeping around. And I’ll deny saying this later, but… you are worth keeping around.”

  Keefe looked away, not sure if the tears burning his eyes were from Ro’s pep talk—or the fact that he couldn’t quite believe it.

  Ro shook him until he turned back to face her. “I know you think your mom won, but trust me, this isn’t over. You have an infinite number of ways to keep resisting her. Don’t give up. And don’t hide from the power she gave you. Learn how to use it against her.”

  “Exactly,” Dex agreed, placing a hand on Keefe’s shoulder. “And remember, you’re not in this alone.”

  Keefe had never felt more alone in his entire life.

  But… when he read Dex’s emotions, all he felt was determination and confidence and hints of the same warmth he’d felt from Elwin.

  Dex was on his side.

  So was Ro, strangely enough.

  Her protective vibes were stronger than anything he’d ever experienced before.

  He didn’t want to let them down.

  And he definitely didn’t want to let his mom win.

  So maybe if he was careful, and stayed hidden, and didn’t talk, and worked super hard—maybe he could get a handle on this new power in a more manageable way.

  He’d already resisted using a command on Dex.

  That had to be a good sign.

  So he sat up taller and nodded—but he also grabbed Dex’s wrist when Dex started to pull away, took a steadying breath, and risked nine more whispered words.

  “If it doesn’t work, you have to help me.”

  He didn’t specify how—too afraid it would turn into a command. But Dex seemed to know he meant the ability restrictor.

  Dex sighed. “I’ll think about it. That’s all I’ll agree to.”

  Keefe tightened his grip as the itch surged back in his brain—the word so loud this time that he could almost hear it, almost know what to say.

  But he closed his eyes and breathed until he’d buried it again.

  That was twice now.

  Twice he’d kept control.

  So maybe there was hope.

  If not, he’d make Dex take the ability away.

  By any means necessary.

  - SEVEN - Sophie

  What are you doing here?” Fitz asked as Lord Cassius flashed an oily smile and said, “To what do I owe my sudden popularity?”

  Sophie ignored both questions.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked Fitz.

  “Providing me with an update on my son,” Lord Cassius told her, “since no one else seems to have considered that to be a priority—unless that’s why you’re here.” He fanned the air. “No, it feels like you were very much hoping I wouldn’t be home.”

  “I’m always hoping you won’t be anywhere I’m going,” Sophie snapped back, deciding she was done trying to be polite to Keefe’s father. She should’ve used every word—every conversation—to shame him for the countless ways he’d hurt his son. “If you wanted updates on Keefe, you could’ve shown up at the Healing Center. He was there for three days. So was I. Where were you?”

  Lord Cassius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need to explain myself to anyone—least of all to a teenager with an inflated sense of self-importance. But, since you seem to think you have everything all figured out, it might interest you to know that I’ve been working on an assignment from the Black Swan.”

  He paused to let that sink in—let her wonder what the Black Swan might be hiding from her.

  Sophie refused to ask any questions.

  “Your stubbornness has gotten much stronger since you first arrived in our world,” Lord Cassius noted. “Perhaps this new separation from my son will help you learn better deference and respect.”

  “You told him about that?” she asked Fitz—then realized she probably should’ve transmitted the question.

  Lord Cassius looked much too pleased with her response.

  She couldn’t take the words back, though, so she decided to remind Fitz, “He went along willingly with Lady Gisela’s plans for Keefe’s legacy. So he’s just as much to blame for what’s happening to Keefe as she is.”

  “The only thing I’m to blame for,” Lord Cassius argued, “is wanting the best for my son.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “No, you wanted the best for yourself. You wanted to be the father of someone powerful and important and special, so that maybe people would think you were powerful and important and special too—but all they’re going to think is that you’re a creepy jerk who let his wife experiment on his family. And the really sad thing is, Keefe would’ve been all of those things without you messing with his abilities. So you put him through this nightmare for no reason.”

  Lord Cassius’s glare felt colder than staring down a Froster. But when he spoke, all he said was “Interesting.”

  “What is?” Fitz demanded when Sophie stayed silent.

  Lord Cassius kept his focus on Sophie. “Should I tell him what you’re feeling right now?”

  “Don’t bother.” She turned to Fitz. “I’m trying to decide if I’d rather inflict on him or zap him a few times with this melder.”

  She patted the pocket hiding her weapon.

  “Interesting,” Lord Cassius repeated, his lips twitching with something between a smile and a scowl. “Seems you’ve also picked up my son’s habit of using jokes to deflect attention. But they never fully mask what you’re hiding, do they?” He waved his hands through the air again before shaking his head and dropping his arms to his sides. “Actually, it seems like you’re even hiding these feelings from yourself—and I have neither the patience nor the desire to deal with adolescent drama. So I’m just going to say this: Hate me all you want—blame me all you want. It won’t change anything. And it won’t make you feel any better.”

  “Probably not. That’s why I’m leaning toward using the melder.” Sophie patted her pocket again. “It’s so much less exhausting than inflicting, but equally painful.”

  “Okay, it’s official,” Grizel said, applauding as she stepped out of the shadows near Candleshade’s vortinator. “I’m a big fan of this new Sophie. Don’t get me wrong—you’ve always been a fierce little force of nature,” she added when Sophie frowned. “But this is a whole other level of confidence—and I’m here for it!”

  “So am I,” Flori agreed.

  “Me too.”

  Fitz’s voice was quiet enough that Sophie almost wondered if she’d imagined it. But she dared a quick look at his face and found him focused right on her.

  And when their eyes met?

  Man, she’d missed having him smile at her.

  His smile was more tentative than it used to be—and her heart was too shrapnel-filled to react.

  But it was still a nice change.

  A tiny shift that helped her believe they could save their friendship.

  “Anyway,” Lord Cassius said, reaching up to smooth his hair, “you still haven’t explained why you’re here—with two bodyguards, no less. Clearly it wasn’t to see me, even though this is my home.”

  “Before we get to that,” Grizel cut in, “how about we finish the conversation we were having, before we were interrupted?” She side-eyed Sandor with the last word.

  “If you’d told me that you were coming here, I could’ve coordinated our arrival,” Sandor reminded her.

  “That argument applies just as easily to you, Captain Cuddles,” Grizel countered, bopping his flat nose with her finger.

  “Captain Cuddles?” Flori asked, giggling as Sandor’s gray skin took on a pinkish hue. “Can we all use that title?”

  “No,” Sandor told her, at the same time Grizel said, “Absolutely!”

  Sandor let out a squeaky growl. “Can we focus?”

  “I suppose we can try.” Grizel turned back to Lord
Cassius. “In case you’ve forgotten, you were about to tell us about your wife’s abilities.”

  “No, I was about to reiterate that—as far as I know—she only has one. And yes, I’m sure it is possible that she’s been hiding a second ability, since, as you know, Gisela has no problem erasing memories—or lying. But, I do remember asking her once if she was bothered by the fact that most Polyglots have an additional talent, and the disappointment and frustration I felt from her would be hard to fake.”

  “Unless she was disappointed and frustrated that she couldn’t tell you about her other ability,” Fitz suggested.

  “I suppose that’s possible,” Lord Cassius admitted. “But the real question is: Why does it matter? I assure you, if my wife could’ve affected people with her voice the way you say my son now can, there’s no way she would’ve been able to resist using the ability for all this time.”

  He had a point.

  And Sophie tried to find that comforting, since Lady Gisela would be almost unstoppable if she could do what Keefe did.

  But it also meant that Lady Gisela must have an elaborate plan for how to make Keefe use his new ability the way she wanted.

  And her plans usually succeeded.

  “It matters,” Fitz told Lord Cassius, “because Councillor Oralie thinks the numbing command that Keefe used might not be a sign of a new ability. She thought it sounded more like the elements made his empathy merge with his new Polyglot senses, and that’s why he’s able to affect emotions with his voice. So I figured it’d be smart to make sure there aren’t any other abilities that Keefe might’ve inherited.”

  “Merged abilities,” Lord Cassius said quietly.

  “Did that word trigger any memories?” Sophie asked when he turned to pace the foyer.

  “I wish.” He reached up to rub his temples, crossing the length of the room twice more before he added, “But it does feel…”

  “Feel?” Fitz prompted.

  When Lord Cassius stayed silent, he added, “Would it help if we did another probe? Or I could try to do it myself, if…”

  His eyes darted to Sophie, like he wasn’t sure if he should suggest working together.

  But Sophie was more interested in the way Lord Cassius had frozen midstep—foot dangling in the air—the second Fitz had mentioned searching his mind.