Marie gasped. I bit back a smile. With my innocent face, I asked, “Anyone want a drink?”
I expected the silence to last longer.
“Sure,” Theo said, a gleam in his eyes. “I need a glass, though, so if you want to just float one on over to me, that would be great.” He leaned back in his seat, one ankle crossed over his knee. The pose more than emphasized his toned chest through his tight T-shirt. He took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, stretching the shirt even tighter. He knew I was watching. Before I could stop it, my tongue ran along the edge of my bottom lip. Then I lifted my hand to summon another glass. Thirteen stopped me.
“Allow me,” he said. There was an edge to his voice. I turned to face him. His eyes were hard and his mental blocks tight. What was his problem? He reached the cabinet and grabbed as many juice glasses as his fingers would hold. He slid one to Theo and then to several others who suddenly needed a drink as well. I passed around the whiskey.
“I think we’ve had enough demonstrations,” he said under his breath.
Six years old, I ventured down to the small third-floor kitchen to get something to eat. I wouldn’t be invited to dine with my family until years later, and even then it was only when guests were around. But that night I’d healed several concussions and was feeling woozy. Maybe some bread would settle my tummy.
I’d just found a couple of croissants when I heard Uncle Max approaching. In a blur, I shoved the bread in my mouth and crouched in the shadows behind a plush bench. The space between the bench and the wall was so narrow, I almost didn’t fit. Uncle Max never looked for me when I hid, but if he was here, then Father might join him. And I really didn’t want to go back to the barn tonight.
“…so you thought I would somehow sway my brother’s decisions on the matter, is that it?” His calm voice slithered over me. I shivered.
“A nephew at an Ivy League school would be perfect,” Malcolm said. Uncle Max’s power was so strong I hadn’t even sensed my brother. But now, I could sense Markus there too.
“Just think about it, uncle,” Malcolm continued. “A college-bound nephew will give you a perfect family-matters appearance. And the contacts that could be established in a fraternity or…”
“Enough,” Uncle Max said softly. The fear around my brothers spiked. “So nice that you’ve taken such an interest in my recent political rise.” Uncle Max opened the refrigerator. “What about you, er, younger one?” Uncle Max said to Markus. He poured himself some juice. “Do you share your brother’s desire to leave his family?”
“I, I…that’s not what he meant,” Markus stammered. “He—I mean we—we just thought…”
“You just thought you would leave your blood, take the power it bore in you, and establish your own right in the world. How ambitious of you.” He sipped his juice. “However, that is not your purpose. You are here to cultivate our power. Surely your father explained that to you. After all, the more vessels carrying our bloodline, the more powerful we will become.”
I didn’t understand that at first, but after a moment it made sense. Uncle Max, Uncle Mallroy, and Father were all strongest when they were together. Father could move heavier things with his mind, Uncle Max could probe more acutely into someone else’s thoughts—and they were all faster when they were together. Did it work that way when they were around us too? I’d never noticed it before, but then again, I’d never thought to pay attention.
“But Magnolia has more power than anyone,” Markus said. I stopped breathing. “As long as she’s here—” his words cut off in a gurgled gasp.
“Your sister,” Uncle Max said with disgust, “has power that will only weaken as she matures. She is utterly useless to us. If not for your father’s desire to keep her for his experiments, she would have been dead a long time ago.”
He was lying. My powers grew practically every day and he knew it. And God knew they’d tried enough times to kill me. So why the lie? I thought about looking in his mind to find out, but I was too scared about what I might learn. Finally Markus started breathing again.
“Of course, Uncle,” Malcolm said after a moment. “It was an errant thought. Nothing more. Thank you for your time.”
I stayed behind the bench for over an hour after they left. I was never going to leave the estate. Never. They would try to kill me, use me for their experiments, and that would be it—my life. Six years old, and for the first time, I prayed for a miracle.
Please, God, just let me die.
I sat at the kitchen table next to Thirteen. He’d brought groceries again, just like he’d said he would, so when the others arrived for the next Wednesday meeting there was something to snack on. Not that anyone actually ate.
Heather smiled in my direction then quickly averted her eyes. Again. She’d been doing that for the last hour, wanting to bring me into the conversation but not sure how.
Why the hell she even bothered was beyond me. It was obvious that everyone else just wanted me to go away. Forget reading their thoughts. Their tense postures, the way they looked at each other but just glanced over me—no one wanted anything more from me. Especially Theo.
After a week, I figured I’d steeled myself enough that his presence would have no effect on me. Boy, was I wrong. The minute he’d stepped out of the car, my body had heated up. Then the sight of him stalking through the front door, a frown darkening his face…it was like I had no control whatsoever. I had to force my attention to everyone else, then fight to keep it on the conversation.
He was going through the same thing, too. And he hated it as much as I did.
As for the others, they were eager about giving their status reports. Apparently research was exciting to them. Analyzing the information I’d given them, listing out which new agents had gone missing, trying to pinpoint a weakness in my father and uncles—yeah, good luck with that one. They didn’t seem to have accomplished much, but they were still upbeat, ready to do more.
I wasn’t even sure why I was still being included. I’d given my information, and sure, I answered any questions they had, but for the most part I just sat back and watched.
Then Thirteen had an idea.
My stomach hit the floor when I saw his plans: Me. Training his team. Teaching them how to fight against my powers.
My skin tightened as power swelled in my veins. The only reason I didn’t lash out at him was because of the innocence that coated his thoughts: Why wouldn’t I train his team? It was an obvious next step, right?
He had no idea the implications of what he would be asking.
He didn’t speak his thoughts out loud, but he knew instantly what I had seen. I waited for him to brush the idea away, dismiss it as an errant thought. But he held on, waiting until the updates were over. Then he turned to me, resolution hard on his face.
“You know the purpose of this team,” he said in a low voice. The others milled around the kitchen, arranging plans for the day. “I don’t want to lose another team member. Not when we have the resources to avoid it.”
A resource. That’s all I was to him now. God, I was such a fool. I should just kill him now and be done with it. Reach out, snap his neck. Or even better, I could just fry his heart from where I sat and watch as he crumbled to the floor. This was the betrayal I had been waiting for. I would have preferred a knife to the throat.
“Magnolia…” He sounded like one of those parents whose child was about to pitch a fit.
“You bastard,” I hissed. My fingers curled into themselves, my nails sharp and digging into my palms. The dishes on the table started to shake. Then the dishes in the cabinet. Soon everything not nailed down would be trembling as I held back my power.
Thirteen watched me, confused. Banks moved into a defensive position at his side.
“You’ve already demonstrated the power of your family,” Thirteen said cautiously. “Training would simply be a matter of more demonstrations.”
“Bullshit!” I shouted. “You don’t want another demonstration! Y
ou want me to teach them how to kill someone with my powers. You want me to give them the tools to go after me!”
Thirteen’s face drained of all color. “No, Magnolia, no!” He reached out his hand to me and I jumped from my seat. Banks moved quickly, blocking me from Thirteen.
“Was this your plan all along, Thirteen?” I spat at him, my body aching. “Gain my confidence, get me to train your people, then, when I’d given you everything you needed, have them turn on me? Well, sorry to spoil your agenda, but if my father couldn’t kill me after twenty-two years of trying, your pissant team of nobodies sure as hell won’t be able to!”
“Magnolia, no…” Thirteen stood in front of me, pain plain on his face. I had to get out of there. I turned to leave the kitchen, but Banks blocked my exit.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” I shouted at him. Without hesitation, he scrambled to the side. His mind struggled not to obey my command, but it was pointless. I was too pissed to be subtle.
I maneuvered my way through the slew of kitchen chairs and around the corner to the bathroom. No one else tried to stop me. I latched the bathroom door and hugged myself against the sink. It was like my chest had been ripped open. God, why did this hurt so much? I turned and gripped the sides of the small pedestal sink and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes started to burn.
Do not cry. Don’t you dare cry about this.
I pictured Thirteen’s face, the genuine pain that my words had caused him. Damn it, why couldn’t he just be the callous bastard I wanted him to be right now? Why did he have to have such good intentions? It had never been his plan for his team to turn on me; I knew that. It was just—he chose me. He’d kept me safe, kept me secret, taught me how to live in the real world. He was supposed to care more about what I wanted than what was best for his stupid Network.
I wiped my face and took several deep breaths.
I wouldn’t do it. Decision made, end of discussion. We’d agreed on my giving information. That was it. I was free now. No more torture sessions, no more hiding in shadows. I would not risk that freedom by teaching these people how to hurt me. Because no matter how sincere Thirteen’s intentions were, his team would turn on me. I knew it without a doubt.
A knock on the bathroom door startled me. Boy, someone sure had balls.
“What?”
There was no answer. What the hell! I yanked the bathroom door open and froze.
Theo stood inches away, towering over me with his hands braced on either side of the doorframe. His face was dark, his hair falling over his eyes. My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. My breath caught the moment his scent filled my lungs.
His thoughts were in chaos—and so loud I couldn’t have blocked them if I tried. He was drawn to me. A compulsion. Just like the pull I felt for him. And just like I’d been so sure that he’d done something to cause this pull, he was certain I had done something to him. That strange, warm place inside of me trembled, then grew. Against my will, I calmed down. My breathing steadied, my heart rate slowed. My rage at Thirteen lightened to a manageable pissed off. There was no motive behind Theo’s presence here. He just had to be where I was. And I just had to have him here.
“You’re not going to help us, are you?”
I jumped. Heather appeared from the hallway, breaking through our silent moment. Theo didn’t move. I had to duck down to see her from under his arm.
“I’ve already helped you,” I said coldly.
Theo’s breath turned ragged over me. Ducking had moved me closer to him, and suddenly I had to be closer still. It was like a magnetic pull, stronger than anything I had ever experienced. The force of it put my family’s energies to shame.
And it scared the crap out of me.
I leaped back in a flash, putting my back against the bathroom wall. Unfortunately, the bathroom was so tiny I was still only a few feet from the door. Heather peered at me from under Theo’s arm. Her empathetic impulses alerted her to something heavy and sensual in the air, but she didn’t trust herself.
“You’re right. You have helped us,” she tentatively agreed, looking back and forth between Theo and me. “But we won’t be able to really stop your family unless you show us how.”
Theo turned his head and glared at Heather. He didn’t say a word, but his thoughts snarled at her.
Holy shit…he wanted to defend me. Rough stubble shadowed his jawline as he ground his teeth. A slight crook in his nose warned of long-ago fights. It was a fabulously sexy profile.
“Magnolia?” Heather said.
Theo turned an arched brow to me. Oh, crap; he caught me staring. Heat flooded my face.
“What?” I snapped, my voice cracking.
Heather’s eyes widened. “I said, why not? Given what they did to you. So much horrible stuff that you had to escape. Why not help us defeat them?”
Because you would use what I taught you to try to hurt me. The words were on the tip of my tongue when Heather’s mind swept over me. She was nearly a decade older than me, had worked for the Network for years. Yet she was more naïve to the world than I had been an hour after my birth. I felt the weight of Theo’s stare. For some reason I couldn’t crush that naiveté. Not in front of Theo.
When I didn’t answer, Heather shook her head and walked back toward the kitchen.
Theo’s grip tightened on the doorframe. With Heather gone, the connection between us flared. I clung to the wall because I wanted to go to him. Wanted to touch him, taste him.
His eyes twitched. Amid our overwhelming urges, something occurred to him. “Will you train us, Mag?” he asked softly.
My stomach dipped at the sound of his voice. Before I could stop myself, I nodded. His gaze softened and he leaned toward me. The fluttering in my stomach stole my breath. I had to get away from him. Now. Or God knows what else I’d agree to.
I cleared my throat twice then said, “I, um, need a minute.”
He frowned. He didn’t want to leave. I could feel the effort it took to peel his fingers from the door. With a shake of his hair, he turned away. I waited until his footsteps were past the kitchen and out the front door. Then I shut the door and locked it tight.
And cursed myself repeatedly.
Everyone arrived the next morning at sunup, ready to start training. All because I’d said yes to Theo. I’d stayed up half the night trying to talk myself out of the decision. But the moment I pictured his face I was helpless to resist.
Thirteen had suggested I begin with my mental powers: telepathy, telekinesis, mind manipulation. Well, screw that and screw him. I needed a fight. And if I was going to do this, I was going to do it my way.
Nothing like a little hand-to-hand combat to start your day off right.
Before we could start, though, there was one little thing I had to take care of. With a deep sigh, I called out to Charles. He turned in the doorway to the backyard. The others were already outside. “You can’t train with your hand like that,” I said.
He faced me full-on. He was tall enough to make the hallway look tighter than it was. His buzz cut almost touched the ceiling.
“Thanks to you I don’t have a choice, do I?” he growled.
“What’s going on?” Marie said from behind him. Several others had followed her back into the house. Fabulous. We’d have an audience.
“Little Kelch here says she isn’t going to let me train because of my fucked-up hand.”
OK, so not what I’d said. “Of course you can train,” I continued slowly, “I’ll just have to heal you first.”
Silence and blank expressions.
“You can really heal him?” Jon asked. I nodded. He looked back at Charles and shrugged. “So let her fix it.”
“Are you serious?” Marie squealed. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but she’s the one who shattered his hand in the first place!”
“Then she should be the one to fix it,” Jon said, his voice resolute.
For a long minute they all just looked at each other. Finally, Charles steppe
d forward. Marie sucked in her breath. I stared at his cast.
“Well?” he said.
It was going to hurt. Badly. I’d only ever healed another person once before, but Uncle Max had screamed like a girl when he’d made me fix that gunshot wound in his chest. And then he’d punished me with the drugs that he and Father had stolen from the Chinese politicians who shot him. After a moment I shrugged. Screw it.
I pulled out the sharpest steak knife I could find. Charles jumped back and clutched his hand to his chest. “What the hell?” he yelled.
“I don’t think so,” added Marie. She stepped forward to block me from Charles. It was a sweet move, actually, even if she was a raging bitch.
“I have to get the cast off. You can cut it off yourself if you want, but I can’t do anything with that huge thing on your hand.”
Marie snatched the knife. I tensed. She glared at me then handed the knife to Jon. It took forever for him to remove the damn thing. They were being so careful. I poured another drink and had it half finished by the time Charles rested his hand palm-up on the table. The others stood at his back, watching. I reached across the table. Charles flinched before I even touched him. Oh, come on.
“You have to hold still,” I said. He scowled at me but took a deep breath and braced himself. I gently rested one hand on his forearm then hovered my fingers over the worst of his breaks. He flinched. Before he could pull away again, I lowered my fingers and focused my power into his bones. He gasped and jerked as if electrocuted. Marie and the others closed in behind me. I didn’t stop.
Through gritted teeth a strangled cry escaped him. “Stop it!” Marie shouted right at my ear. I slowly turned to face her. She took a step back.
Finally, it was done—the bones healed around the pins from his surgery. I released him and he sagged to his knees, cradling his hand to his chest. I stepped around the table and lifted my drink.
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