Created (Talented Saga)

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Created (Talented Saga) Page 19

by Davis, Sophie


  The blood tracker must’ve been why Captain Alvarez told me that there wasn’t a choice for him. He’d been injected with the same tracking serum. Mac was reaching new lows. I wondered if he’d used a mechanical tracker on Erik for fear of contaminating his Mimic blood.

  “Besides, I’m no good for Alex. That’s why I stayed away from him and Kandice in the first place. Dad did have me removed from the Hunters as punishment for giving you my blood. But there was more to it. The creation drug screws with people’s heads. I was starting to forget things, have huge memory lapses. I messed up on missions. I was a liability. Dr. Thistler gives me drugs that help, but it’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. I don’t have much longer.”

  My heart broke because he was right. For Donavon to have remained talented for over a decade, he’d have been given numerous injections. The side-effects might not be reversible in his case.

  “Look, Tal. We don’t have much time, dad will be here soon. I need you and Alex out of here before he is. Right now Dad doesn’t have a strong Viewer to steal blood from to make more. Alex is exactly what he’s looking for. Crane’s forces have nearly breached the perimeter we have set up around this place. Get Alex, join them, and get the hell onto one of the Coalition hovercrafts. Otherwise, the camp’s emergency evacuation planes are approximately three kilometers due south. You should be able to pilot one of the smaller ones on your own.”

  “Where’s Ian?” I asked. No way was I returning to the cottage without him and risk facing Brand’s wrath and Penny’s grief. Donavon blanched when I referred to Crane as “Ian.”

  “Last I heard he was leading the charge to break through the perimeter we have set up around the rec center.”

  “So he wasn’t captured?” I clarified.

  Donavon shook his head. “Guy’s an escape artist.”

  No, I thought, even better – a Perception Manipulator. Once alone, he’d have been able to hide in plain sight by giving off the perception that he was a TOXIC operative or maybe even a tree.

  “Is Alex with Erik’s family? Captain Alvarez said they were being held separately from the rest of the prisoners.”

  “Yeah. I was able to keep them together so Alex wouldn’t be scared.”

  “Where are they, Donavon?”

  I met Donavon’s cornflower blue eyes, and they were Donavon’s eyes now. The years had fallen away, and with them the deepest of the wrinkles and worry lines. Mac’s silver-streaked pale gold hair had been replaced by Donavon’s darker blonde locks. The gray suit was gone, replaced by an adapti-suit that showed off Donavon’s trim frame.

  Donavon offered me his hand and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, and I buried my face in his chest. I needed to get moving if I wanted out of here before the real Mac arrived, but I didn’t want the moment to end. Donavon had been my everything for so long, and I wasn’t ready to give him up yet.

  “They’re three doors down to the right. There is one guard stationed outside. I’ll distract him long enough for you to slip inside. Don’t waste time. Get in and get them out. Follow the hallway to the staircase at the end. Go all the way to the basement. There are exit doors from the stairwell that open to the back of the building. There should be five guards back there. I’ll radio that we need reinforcements to the front to draw them away. That will give you a clear exit. Don’t hesitate, Talia. If you do run into any guards, they won’t intentionally kill you, but they are likely to shoot first, ask questions second. I’ll give you my gun, use it. You don’t have friends here anymore, you hear me?”

  “I have one friend here,” I told him sadly, tears filling my eyes and wetting the front of his suit. But that wasn’t exactly true, I had at least one other. Captain Alvarez had tried to engineer my escape, too. How many others weren’t loyal to Mac anymore?

  “I love you, Natalia. Always have. Always will.”

  I pulled back from Donavon, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. Donavon’s eyes glistened, too, and I reached up to wipe a single tear weaving down his cheek. “I love you, too.”

  Donavon worked the strap of the gun over his head and handed it to me. Then he drew another from a holster at his hip. I slung the larger weapon across my chest, deciding to keep the smaller clutched in my hands.

  “Give me two minutes before coming out,” Donavon sent.

  I nodded, and watched as he turned and left. I counted to one hundred and twenty, forcing myself not to rush the numbers. As the final seconds ticked off, I hurried to the door. I turned the knob, and found it locked from the outside. He wasn’t making this too easy on me, I thought dryly. Using my powers, I disengaged the lock, and then eased the door open. My muscles relaxed slightly when I found the hallway empty. Tip-toeing, I counted the doors as I passed until I found the third one. There was a rectangle of frosted glass in the door. I glanced in, making sure that there were no additional guards waiting for me. I could make out several distorted shapes, but couldn’t see the entire space.

  The door was, of course, locked as well. This time, though, all I had to do was turn the bar. I said a silent prayer that the Kelleys and Alex were alone, and then pushed the door open. Erik’s father was sitting slumped over what looked like a school desk. Edmond, the middle of the Kelley boys, leaned against the far wall, cradling one arm to his chest and Alex with the other. And Evan, Erik’s youngest brother, was at his father’s feet, holding a balled up wad of fabric to his father’s thigh. His shirt, I realized, when I registered the fact he was naked from the waist up.

  Edmond saw me first. “Talia?” he exclaimed, too loudly for my liking.

  Alex’s tiny head shot up, and my heart clenched. “Tals,” he squealed.

  I put my finger to my lips to shush Edmond.

  “It’s me, baby, but you need to be quiet,” I said softly to Alex.

  “Quiet,” he parroted in his little-kid whisper.

  Mr. Kelley’s head bobbed, blood dripped down the right side of his face.

  “Are you here to rescue us?” Edmond asked, speaking more softly this time.

  “Yeah. We need to move. There isn’t much time.”

  Evan scurried to his feet before helping his father from the desk. Mr. Kelley slung his arm around his son’s shoulders, leaning heavily on him for support. The wound that Evan had been applying pressure to was a bullet hole.

  “Crap,” I muttered, moving farther into the room. I knelt in front of Erik’s father, trying to assess the damage. I could see bone. Not good. Racking my brain for a way to staunch the bleeding while we made our escape, I came up empty. Then I remembered the tear from my own brush with a bullet. I gripped the tear in my suit and yanked. The fabric ripped, but only a little. Realizing what I was doing, Edmond hurried to join the effort. It took both of us to get the sleeve of the suit free. I deftly used the material to create a tourniquet.

  “It’s good to see Talia,” Mr. Kelley mumbled softly. He was losing too much blood too fast.

  “We need to go,” I said, speaking to Edmond since I figured he was most in control. “Here.” I handed him the handgun, keeping the rifle for myself. “You know how to use a gun, right?”

  Edmond rolled his eyes dramatically. “Of course I do.”

  “Good,” I replied, ignoring his patronizing tone.

  I collected Alex from where he was curled up on the floor. “Can you be brave and walk on your own?” I asked. Carrying him would tie up my hands, and I needed them free to fend off attackers.

  He nodded and scrambled to his feet. I gave him a quick once-over, patting my hands up and down his body to make sure he wasn’t injured.

  “What I need you to do is follow me,” I whispered. “Can you concentrate on my mind? View me?” I wasn’t sure if he knew what I meant, but he nodded like he understood. “Okay, let’s move.”

  I took the lead, Evan and Mr. Kelley limping awkwardly behind me with Alex clutching Evan’s free hand. Edmond brought up the rear. The hallway was still empty, and I sen
t waves of gratitude towards Donavon, wherever he was. We moved slowly, but managed to get to the stairwell without incident. Once inside, Edmond hurried to help Evan carry their father down the stairs. I ran ahead to scout for threats.

  “It’s clear down here,” I called up, my voice echoing off the walls. I cringed, hoping that it hadn’t carried to anyone on other floors.

  Edmond, Evan, Mr. Kelley, and Alex joined me several moments later. Edmond looked at me expectantly. “What now?” he whispered, his normal hostility absent.

  “There might be guards on the other side of these doors,” I indicated the exit. “Let me go first, check it out.” To Alex, I sent an order to stay with Evan.

  Edmond nodded, but moved forward to put himself between his family and Alex and the doors. I closed my eyes, counted to three, and slammed my booted foot into the door.

  Noise blasted through the opening, nearly knocking me back. Soldiers in camouflage suits barreled across the field towards the building. Black-clad operatives stood between me and Crane’s men. A number of people had morphed; a menagerie of animals was interspersed with the humans, claws and teeth seeking exposed flesh. It was impossible to tell whether the Morphers were TOXIC operatives or Coalition soldiers. I stood momentarily frozen, not sure how best to proceed. Bodies were falling right and left, creating a morbid picture of death across the grass. There was no way that I could get Mr. Kelley through the firefight in his condition. I looked to Edmond for direction, but his features were paralyzed in a horrified mask.

  As if in slow motion, I turned back to the battlefield. Do something, don’t just stand here, I chastised myself. My feet were in motion before my brain could devise a plan. I charged the operative closest to me. The butt of my rifle connected with the back of his skull with a sickening thud, and he crumpled like an accordion. A second operative moved on my right. I spun to face the new threat, and in the same motion brought the barrel of the gun up to eye level. Instead of firing, I whipped the weapon across the operative’s face. His head snapped back, causing him to lose his footing and tumble backwards. Using telekinesis, I robbed him of the weapon still clutched between his meaty palms, but recalling Amberly’s question about how many I’d killed, left him alive.

  Satisfied that he was no longer a threat to me, I glanced up to find my next target. The TOXIC operatives closest to me were preoccupied by Coalition soldiers, and paid me no attention. Across the sea of fighters, I sought out Crane.

  “Talia, thank god!” his voice sounded in my head.

  My gaze went directly to him, led by the mental thread connecting our minds. Crane’s long, lean form was sprinting through the battle, dodging and ducking, bobbing and weaving, as he single-mindedly tried to reach me.

  “Ian, Mr. Kelley, Erik’s father, he’s been shot. He’s in bad shape, he can’t walk well. I think, I think he might need to be carried. And Alex is with them,” I sent, hysteria gripping my lungs like an iron fist. Being in charge had kept me focused, but Crane’s appearance meant I no longer had to make life or death decisions. He would know what to do.

  “Okay. Let me worry about them. Just get to the plane.” Crane pointed behind him, at a waiting hovercraft.

  One hundred yards separated me and safety. One hundred yards, and Mac’s army of death.

  “What about Alex? He’s just a little kid.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to him,” Crane promised.

  Crane managed to reach me without being shot. He was like the invisible man. No one even registered his presence, let alone tried to stop him. He was using his manipulation, I realized.

  “Go!” he screamed, and gave me a not-so-subtle shove forward.

  I glanced behind me to where Edmond stood in the doorway like an impenetrable force of nature, daring anyone and everyone to make a play for his father or Evan or Alex. I trusted Crane to get Erik’s family and Donavon’s son through the fray, but still hated leaving them behind. I debated taking Alex myself. After seeing the way Crane had navigated across the battlefield, though, I knew he was the better option.

  Janelle and another soldier broke free from their combatants to follow Crane into the building. Crane and Edmond exchanged words I couldn’t hear, and then Edmond finally relinquished his post.

  “The soldiers have dad, let’s go,” he called, and grabbed my hand. Edmond fired the handgun haphazardly at anyone wearing a black suit to clear our path forward.

  We’d made it halfway to the plane when a storm cloud of black descended upon us, blocking the escape craft from view. Edmond didn’t slow his pace, charging ahead like a madman on a mission. As the operatives took aim, I used my powers to tear the guns from their hands. Several managed to get shots off beforehand, and I deflected the bullets as they raced in our direction.

  Behind us, Crane and his soldiers were in a tight cluster around Mr. Kelley and Evan, shielding them from stray gunfire. Janelle had Alex cocooned in her arms. A plane appeared overhead, bringing with it a fresh wave of reinforcements. I didn’t take the time to determine whether the new soldiers were ours or TOXIC’s.

  “Talia, watch out!” The voice in my head was tight with panic. I yanked free from Edmond, frantically scanning the scene for the cause of the warning.

  This time, I had no doubt the man barreling towards me was the real Mac. He wasn’t wearing his usual gray suit and impeccably-polished loafers. Today he was the commander of his army, dressed in a black adapti-suit and toting a semi-automatic assault rifle. He wore no helmet, and his short hair was tousled and unkempt, which only added to the crazed gleam in his cold gray eyes. For a man so old, he sure runs fast, I thought as he closed the distance with surprising speed.

  The gun was in my hands, but I never thought to raise it. My icy purple gaze found Mac’s, and all I could do was watch. Seeing him stirred the pot of anger and frustration churning within me. A million thoughts raced through my mind at once, but I couldn’t concentrate on any one. When Mac’s finger tightened on the trigger, all those thoughts drained out as if someone had pulled the stopper holding them in. Frozen, I stared at the man I’d thought of as a father, a leader, a friend, and now my killer.

  It all happened in a flash of gray fur and white canines. The wolf collided with Mac from the side, surprising the Director enough that he pulled the trigger even though he no longer had me locked in his sights. The crack of the bullet leaving the barrel should have been louder, instead it was muffled, muted somehow when it reached my oversensitive ears. A whimper followed, and the wolf went still. I’d seen him take the shape so many times over the years, the animal was nearly as familiar to me as the human.

  Mac shoved the wolf’s weight off of his chest, rolling the animal onto its back and exposing matted crimson fur.

  “NO!!!” I screamed, as the glue pasting my boots to the grass gave way and I surged forward. “You bastard!” I shot the words at Mac like an arrow as he stood staring down at his son’s dying form, no hint of remorse in his expression.

  I raised my gun to fire. I pumped the trigger, releasing one bullet after another and screaming Donavon’s name over and over again. Several of my shots found their mark, embedding themselves in the suit covering Mac’s body. Hot tears obscured my vision, making aiming impossible. I wanted Mac to die. For years I’d thought I’d known true hatred: real teeth-clenching, gut-burning, rage-fueling hatred. Now, I understood that even when I’d thought Ian Crane had murdered my parents, I’d never truly hated him. I’d never had the desire to rip Crane limb from limb, to inflict pain and suffering on him the way I wanted to do with Mac in that instant. Using my talents didn’t occur to me. I craved physical violence, the satisfaction of feeling Mac’s life leaking out of him by my hand.

  Before I could reach the father and son, Captain Alvarez intervened. He appeared at Mac’s side and began dragging him away from Donavon’s wolf body. I would have pursued them, had it not been for Donavon’s voice in my head.

  “Alex. Take care of him, Tal.”

  More tear
s. I willed Donavon to fight, hold on just long enough for help to arrive.

  “He needs you,” I sent back. “I need you.”

  My pleas were met with silence. The connection, my strongest and longest, broke like a branch snapping. I immediately felt his absence. It was a physical hurt, as if a piece of me had been torn off, and it rocked me to my very core. My brain was slower to register the loss.

  “Donavon, answer me,” I shouted at him. “Damn it, answer me!”

  The air near his flattened ears began to shimmer, the disturbance traveling down his body until he was human once again.

  I stared into dull, cerulean eyes. “No, you won’t die. Do you hear me, Donavon? You will not die!” I slapped him hard across the face, hoping, praying to get a reaction. He didn’t move; his eyes still stared skyward. The change from wolf to human was a clear indication that he was gone, but I found the reality hard to accept.

  A hand touched my shoulder; I didn’t look up to see who it was. I didn’t care. Donavon was gone. The hand squeezed, and I thought someone spoke, but the voice sounded far away. I stroked Donavon’s cheek where I’d slapped him. No red mark showed on his skin because no blood had rushed to the injury.

  “No, no, no,” I moaned.

  Fingers closed around mine, gently pulling my hand from Donavon’s face. Two thick fingers lowered Donavon’s eyelids. An arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me to my feet. Pressure behind my knees made me fall back. Someone caught me before I hit the ground. I didn’t struggle or protest, just admitted defeat. The person began running, my added weight not seeming to encumber his movements or slow his stride; I didn’t bother to glance up to see who “he” was.

  “Is she hurt?” someone, Crane maybe, asked.

  “No. Just in shock. Do you know, were they friends?” the person holding me said. His chest vibrated when he spoke, and I rested my cheek against him because it reminded me of Erik.

  “Yes … friends,” the person I thought was Crane replied.

  “He saved her life.” The guy sounded a little like Erik.

 

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