The shorter agent doesn’t allow Mike to respond. “Yes, of course he has.”
“Of course he has,” says the taller agent, continuing to dial his phone. “Who hasn’t? So as I was saying, The General and I had a very interesting conversation in which he expressed a very deep concern, which is why we’re standing here on your front porch. Do you know what that concern might be, Michael?”
“I’m pretty sure he does,” says the shorter agent.
The taller agent brings the phone to his ear. “Yes, I’m fairly certain he does as well. So the concern is that you were just speaking with his daughter, Dia Davenport, and some of her friends, all of whom happen to be wanted criminals. The General would like to speak with you, and he’d like for you to tell him everything you know, starting with what they wanted from you. And then you’re going to tell him where they went after they left here.”
“I don’t know,” Mike replies, his voice trembling slightly as he forces out his words. “They could be anywhere in the world by now.”
“Be that as it may,” says the agent, “I’m going to let you explain that to The General yourself.” He hands Mike the phone and he nervously accepts it, staring down at the device in his sweat-drenched palm. “But it might be in your best interest to hazard a guess.”
The shorter agent unbuttons his jacket and loosens it slightly, revealing a flash of the holster hidden beneath his armpit. “For your sake, I hope you’re a good guesser.”
Chapter Fifteen – Tristful
Paris | August 29, 2011 | 8:57pm, Central European Time
A few tense hours roll by after the confrontation in the living room. Dia is still unsure about how to process this information, feeling conflicted about her father – a man she scarcely remembers. Sitting on her rooftop terrace Dia gazes out towards the iconic tower in the distance; she takes a final sip of red wine from her glass and sets it down when her sister emerges behind her.
“Need a refill?” asks Paige with a soft smile; holding an uncorked bottle in one hand, and an empty wine glass in the other. “I thought I’d come up here with a peace offering.”
“No need,” Dia replies, holding up a half-full bottle of her own. “I’ve got it covered.”
Paige approaches and takes a seat next to her sister on the ledge, filling her glass to the top. “Look, I’m sorry about everything that happened earlier. I didn’t mean to throw down with you in front of the gang, but things are just getting a little crazy. It’s weighing on everyone.”
“Yeah, I noticed. You weren’t in the room when Cole decided to Hulk-smash a hole through our living room wall. I don’t know if it’s the fact that he’s in full-time manifestation mode or just the pressure that’s getting to him, but he’s crumbling.”
Paige takes a quick sip from her glass and places it on the ledge at her side. “So how are you holding up?”
Dia blurts out a short laugh under her breath. “Things are just fab. We’re wanted criminals, Cole is coming apart at the seams, our father is hunting us down, and to top everything off, someone who’s living in our apartment is probably a serial killer. But I’m not worried…I have a plan.”
“You do?”
“Absolutely,” says Dia, taking a swig directly from the bottle. “I plan on getting very, very drunk. Then, if I have time later, I plan on throwing up.”
Paige nods approvingly. “I like it. Simple. Not to mention classy. So what’s the next step after that?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead. But I figure as soon as I’m drunk enough I’ll have some better ideas.”
A few seconds tick by and Paige’s smile fades. “This is going to turn into a war, you know.”
“Probably,” says Dia softly, almost indifferently.
“And wars need soldiers. I’ve started contacting our friends who have manifested. The allies we have left, anyway; we have to assume that the Collectors have captured most of them. The clock is ticking, and if any new potentials manifest, we need to get to them before the Council does.” Paige typically spends several hours a night online, researching suspicious events and reaching out to people around the world who she believes may have manifested. Over the last several months it has been increasingly difficult to get in touch with her existing contacts, and she fears the worst; although she doesn’t want to cause a panic and reveal that she hasn’t had a single response from anyone in the past two weeks.
Dia lets out a frustrated groan, staring into the distance. “Our biggest problem might not even be the Council. We could have a traitor living with us, and I’m thinking it could be Jens.”
Paige raises her eyebrows. “I’m guessing you told Cole this theory of yours?”
“Yup.”
“Ah,” Paige replies with a nod. “His redecorating in the living room is starting to make a lot more sense.”
Dia lowers her head and massages the back of her neck. “Cole suspects Brodie...for all I know he’s right. I don’t know what to believe anymore, or who to trust.”
“Well there’s nothing we can do about it tonight,” says Paige. “I’ll keep looking online and hopefully we can gather some more troops. We’ll come up with something; that’s what we do, right? When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep?”
Dia lets out a small yawn as if on cue. “I don’t know; maybe a week ago? I’m not sleeping well. I keep having these dreams about Govinda.”
“Really?” says Paige with increased interest. “Tell me about it.”
“I can’t help but think that I know him from somewhere. Ever since Cole and I ran into him in The Backyard I’ve had this strange feeling that I have a history with him; I just can’t seem to piece it together. Plus the confusion and headaches are coming back worse than ever. I keep feeling like I’m not me sometimes...does that make any sense?”
“It’s probably sleep deprivation.” Paige reaches into her pocket and produces a small plastic bag that contains two dark purple capsules, extending them towards her sister. “Finish off your wine and pop a couple of these. Brodie says you’ll pass out for a guaranteed ten hours of sleep that will feel more like twenty. You’ll wake up feeling better than ever.”
Dia accepts the bag and places it in her pocket. “Thanks sis, I appreciate it. What would I do without you?”
“I have no idea, because I’m very awesome.”
“I suddenly have the urge to hug you,” says Dia with a tiny smirk.
“I’m not nearly drunk enough for hugs right now,” replies Paige, expressionless. “But if I polish off a few more bottles of wine I might send you one of those eCards with flowers on it.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
Chapter Sixteen – Kismet
Paris | August 29, 2011 | 9:29 pm, Central European Time
Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Dia returns from the rooftop terrace with an empty wine bottle in-hand. She shuffles through the living room area, and passes Jens and Brodie, who are engrossed in what appears to be the beginning of yet another all-night video game session.
Paige is doing her best to ignore them, sitting in a lounge chair with her head engulfed in an oversized set of earphones plugged into her laptop.
Cole, having gone to sleep early, is nowhere to be found.
“Good night, guys. I’ll catch you tomorrow…hopefully no earlier than noon.” Just as Dia completes her sentence a buzzing sound emanates from her phone – the untraceable cell that Brodie distributes to team members. She retrieves it from the coffee table and reads the call display. Franco.
Franco: the Italian student that used to work as their security guard at the high-rise condo back in New York City. That is, before he was taken captive by a SWAT team during an early morning raid.
Prior to his capture Franco was being paid ten thousand dollars a month to perform simple, albeit illegal tasks for Dia and Paige, which included everything from alerting them when police were present to making security camera footage disappear.
Dia answers the phone with
a sense of relief. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he replies in his thick Sicilian accent. “I was taken before your building exploded. I’m so sorry, Dia. I tried to phone you to warn about the polizia but they came in too fast. They hit my head with a gun and I was asleep before I knew what happened.”
“It’s alright; there was nothing you could do. We’re all fine and we got out of there. Where are you now, still in New York?”
Paige removes her headphones and makes a shrugging motion at her sister, mouthing the words ‘who is it?’ Dia pressed the speaker button to allow everyone in the room to hear the conversation.
“No, I’m in London,” says Franco. “I landed here at Heathrow Airport just now. I didn’t know where else to go. I was going to take the connecting flight back to Italia but I thought you might be somewhere in Europe. I wanted to know if I could stay with you? I’m feeling not so safe by myself.”
“With me?” says Dia, surprised at the request. “Um, I guess…I mean, I don’t see why not?”
“Don’t give up our location over the phone,” Brodie suggests, munching on a mouthful of pretzels. “I’ll drive over and grab him myself. Tell him to stay at the airport and make sure he’s alone.”
“Okay, you heard Brodie; he’s on his way. He’ll take the Ferrari so he shouldn’t be long. As luck would have it we’re not that far from you.”
Dia presses the mute button. “Brodie, are you sure that you want to do a pick-up right now? London is at least a six-hour drive from Paris, so you’ll be driving all night. I could just open a portal.”
“No worries, D; get some sleep. I just popped a Nitro so I won’t be sleeping anyway. It’ll be nice to go outside for some fresh air. And I won’t need six hours to get to London. With the way I drive, I can get there in four.”
Dia resumes speakerphone. “Okay then, Brodie will be there in around four hours. Hang tight and we’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you, Dia,” says Franco with an outpouring of sincerity. “I appreciate it so much, my friend. I will see you soon. Ciao.”
“Ciao, Franco.”
Paige slams her laptop shut and her demeanor darkens. “Dia, don’t you think the timing is just a little bit convenient? Franco wanting to know our location right after we become fugitives?”
“Maybe just a little,” says Dia, “but as long as he’s alone I don’t see the harm.”
“Why do we need to risk bringing Franco here all? If the Council let him go then he’s probably better off on his own than with us. Besides, we already have two derelicts living here.” Paige sticks her thumb towards the couch where Brodie and Jens are sitting.
“What did you just call us?” shouts Brodie, leaping to his feet as half-eaten Doritos and empty cans spill from his lap. “Jens and I are just friends, Paige! This has never gone further than a friendly foot massage.”
Paige rolls her eyes. “The word ‘derelict’ doesn’t mean you’re gay, you idiot. It means that you don’t pay for anything, and that you...wait, you two give each other foot massages?”
Dia crinkles her nose. “Okay, first of all, that is so many different kinds of weird. Secondly, we have to do this, Paige. We owe Franco.”
“We owe him shit,” she thunders back. “We paid him ten grand a month just to watch out for us. Guess what? He failed. The only reason we got a jump on Plan B was because you happened to see the helicopters out the window. Two minutes later and who knows what would have happened.”
Dia softens her tone and sags against the wall. She’s exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and is in no condition to argue. “We dragged him into this, Paige. He never asked for this crap. He just wanted to pay for tuition and get on with his life. If Goto thinks he might be valuable the Collectors will find him; you know that. If we don’t help him it’s only a matter of time before they trace him back to his hometown.”
“Fine,” says Paige with a bitter groan. “Whatever. But if Franco is moving in here we’re literally renting a separate apartment, because I’m sure as hell not going to live together with you, your bipolar boyfriend, some homeless Italian kid, and Will and Grace over there.”
“Okay, I know what that means, Paige!” shouts Brodie, pointing his finger.
Dia steps in between them as she usually does, like a referee separating two prize fighters who have continued to throw punches after the bell. “Alright guys, let’s just take it easy and calm down. Brodie, grab the keys to the Ferrari and go get Franco. Make sure he’s clean before he gets into the car, and nothing electronic comes back to the apartment except for the untraceable cell you gave him. If you think you’re being trailed go to our London hideout and call us immediately. Paige, start researching and see if anyone else has manifested. If you find someone, wake me up and we’ll try to make an extraction before the Collectors or the Council gets to them. And Jens…”
“Yeah,” he replies, brushing a mop of blond hair from his eyes.
“Sit there, eat chips and drink beer until we figure out something useful for you to do.”
“Way ahead of you, babe,” says Jens, tossing an empty can over his shoulder. “I’m all over it.”
Chapter Seventeen – Damasu
Paris | August 30, 2011 | 1:14 am, Central European Time
Only the bluish glow of the living room television provides a source of light throughout the long, dim corridor. The soft clacking sound of Jens tapping the buttons on his video game controller have become omnipresent in the apartment, but they’re only this audible late at night in the absence of other noise.
As per Paige’s new rules, anyone playing video games or watching television after midnight is required to wear noise-cancelling earphones as to not wake everyone else in the apartment.
The newly implemented rule, not coincidentally, was serving a completely different purpose tonight. Paige tiptoes through the hall completely undetected, making her way towards the guest bedroom.
The door swings open and she steps cautiously into the room. The floor gives off a faint creak as the balls of her feet press into the hardwood, but she’s in no danger of waking her sister; Dia is out for the night, and thanks to Brodie’s sleeping pills it would take the sound of a gunshot to disturb her at this point.
She sits on the edge of the bed, curiously observing her sister’s peaceful state. It’s not often that she gets to see Dia so vulnerable; transparent, even.
When Dia seems content there’s still a fire burning behind her dark eyes; an unmistakable intensity that doesn’t allow her to live in the present and enjoy life to the fullest – to just be. Moments like this remind Paige of the sister she had so many years ago, before they were manifesting. Before the complications of their abilities changed them and threw their lives into upheaval.
Brushing the dark hair from her sister’s face, Paige leans down and lets her eyelids fall shut, gently kissing her forehead.
When Paige opens her eyes they’re radiating with power. The Muse that she swallowed a minute ago has taken effect. A glowing purple energy illuminates the darkened room, and a low hum of electricity begins to increase in volume and intensity.
She places her hands on either side of Dia’s forehead, fingers pressing firmly into her temples. The initial contact causes Dia to convulse, eyes snapping open in shock. With a moment of concentration Paige is able to restrain her sister, once again inducing a deep, dreamless sleep.
“I’m sorry,” Paige whispers, “this is for your own good.”
Chapter Eighteen – Perfidy
Paris | August 30, 2011 | 8:01 am, Central European Time
Cole emerges from his room and stretches out his arms, thinking of nothing but the dozen eggs and pound of bacon he is about to devour. Since his muscular frame grew and expanded he’s finding it increasingly difficult to skip meals. Even though he doesn’t have to exercise to maintain his nearly two hundred and fifty pound physique, he still has hunger pangs every few hours, and can now consume three times the food that he did
before his transformation.
Making his way towards the kitchen he’s surprised to see a lanky Italian kid with a mess of curly black hair stooped over the breakfast bar, quietly sipping a coffee in an attempt to stay awake. He’s so tired that he doesn’t notice Cole until he’s practically standing right next to him, pulling a wooden barstool from beneath the bar. “You’re Franco, right?”
“Oh, I didn’t see you,” he replies, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “I apologize. Yes, I’m him.”
“I almost didn’t recognize you without your jacket and tie,” says Cole, his eyes trailing down to Franco’s loose-fitting white track suit. Aside from passing him a few times in the lobby of Dia’s New York City apartment, he had never interacted with Franco before. It just occurred to him that he’d never even heard him speak.
Franco explains that he called last night in search of protection, and that Dia had generously offered him a place to stay until things cooled down.
Brodie strolls into the kitchen, appearing far too alert for someone who hasn’t slept in several days. He’s holding a shopping bag filled with various alcoholic beverages in one hand, and a bag of pastries in the other. “What’s happening, guys? Are you up for some breakfast?”
Cole shakes his head. “Beer and chocolate croissants at eight o’clock in the morning? Tempting, but I think I’ll pass.”
“I wasn’t just going to have this stuff,” says Brodie with a chuckle. “I’ll have you know that I was planning on taking a multivitamin, and eating one of those little flaky donut things with the fruit inside. You know, it’s all healthy and shit...because of the fruit.”
Brodie deposits his bags on the breakfast bar and notices that Franco has emptied the contents of his pockets onto the marble surface; a wallet, some loose change, a pack of mints and a cell phone. “This really takes me back,” he says, picking up the phone. He turns it from side to side, admiring the design. “The first version of the cells I was modifying back in 2009. Man, I kinda miss the old-school phones that flip open.” As he holds the device in his outstretched palm he hesitates for a moment and squints his eyes with suspicion. He raises and lowers it several times, testing the weight. He turns over the phone and removes the battery cover. Poking around the back he unplugs a tiny red wire, and then a blue one. He yanks out a small piece of light grey plastic that’s tightly packed around the internal components.
Relapse (The Vs. Reality Series Book 2) Page 9