by Sophie Davis
It belonged to a guy a little older than Cressa with shining blond hair and endless sky-blue eyes. She probably would’ve found him attractive if she didn’t know who he was. Or, who he was supposed to be. The clone of Donavon McDonough sat beside the Dame.
Kev’s fingers squeezed Cressa’s, and she felt a wave of relief. Sure, she was riding on a hover plane with the Dame, a clone of a dead son, and Sir Tate, but Kev’s presence made her feel a million times better.
For the life of her, Cressa couldn’t work out why she was on the craft with them, why she was suddenly within the highest echelon of the Privileged. Her latent talent attempts had all failed, there was nothing special about Cressa. Kev was a movie star, so at least his presence made a bit of sense; his rampant fanbase was a boon for the Privileged.
Did the Dame simply want to keep Cressa as a pet? Or…a clone?
She was smart enough to not pose the question aloud. Or maybe it was the fear, an instinct for self-preservation. The reason for Cressa’s inclusion wasn’t going to be something good, and she’d had enough world-ruining surprises to last a lifetime.
“Why aren’t we staying with the fleet?” Kev asked. Cressa shrugged and shook her head. Her gaze darted back to the Dame again, worried about disturbing the weird trance.
Tate was across the aisle but must’ve overheard the question. He moved to join the cadets, swiveling a chair from the next row to face them before sitting.
“The Dame’s oracle has conveyed a specific plan for successfully retrieving the child,” Tate explained. “We are simply following that.”
The words didn’t entirely comprehend to Cressa. An oracle? What was an oracle? And why was Tate telling them about it? Privileged cadets were told not to ask questions, so she’d expected to be reprimanded for the forwardness.
Tate removed his glasses as he answered. “An oracle is a talent who can foresee all iterations of decisions and determine the best course of action for a desired result.”
Cressa’s jaw dropped. He’d read the question from her mind. Think about kittens, think about kittens. She focused on the words, her fingers trembling.
“Why are we here?” Kev demanded. “Why are we part of this plan?”
Cressa sucked in a breath. For a moment, Tate looked amused. His face quickly resumed its deadpan expression.
“You are part of her larger plan for the Privileged,” he answered, swiping the lenses with a cloth from his pocket. “Dame de Glace wants you to see why we do what we do.”
“But why us?” Kev pressed.
“You are a movie star, beloved by the world,” Tate replied, his eyes hawkish. He shifted his gaze to Cressa. “And you are more part of this new world than you could possibly imagine.”
A cold finger of dread traced a shiver down Cressa’s spine.
“Actually,” Tate continued. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you about your latent talent.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” Cressa said in a rush. “I promise, I would tell you if I did. Please don’t test me again, I can’t bear it.”
Sir Tate shook his head as he replaced his glasses. His mouth pulled down at the sides, his gaze intensely serious.
“I know exactly how unpleasant the process can be. We are quite puzzled by you, that’s for certain.” He jiggled one foot and stared out the window. “You see, we know that you have a latent talent—your DNA testing confirms a signature. Yet it is not one that we have been able to identify, even with every ounce of talent data we possess. You are quite an anomaly.”
“What’s she going to do to me?” Cressa whispered the words before she could stop herself.
Tate’s eyebrows raised impossibly high. “The Dame would never physically hurt you. I can assure you, she is much smarter than that. Your father would never abide it, ev—” He stopped speaking abruptly and shook his head. “Dame de Glace will not hurt you, that is all you need to know right now.”
Kev leaned forward.
“What don’t we know?” he pressed, his voice low.
“A lot,” Tate said. “Patience, Kevin.”
With that, the Dame’s second-in-command swiveled his seat to face the front again.
“Prepare for landing,” he called over his shoulder.
Cressa leaned her head on Kev’s arm, wishing they could speak privately. Were the Dame and her father truly in contact? Was that even allowed at the Institute? Did her father know what she’d been through? Did he know she’d disobeyed orders and snuck around in the school’s tunnels? Or that she’d tried to escape with Kev? Was her father aware of the terrifying sims the Dame had been putting Cressa through? Did he approve?
All those questions were shoved from Cressa’s mind when they disembarked from the aircraft. Mountains rose high on two sides, bigger and greener than anything she’d ever seen before. They’d been taught to fear nature in school; lush landscapes and deep bodies of water held innumerable toxic possibilities. The Dame spread her arms wide and inhaled deeply, clearly not sharing Cressa’s fears. The older woman turned to the proxy for Donavon with a wide smile.
“Son, we are finally home again.”
The clone crossed his arms, a vein pulsing in his neck, but he nodded stiffly. Faux-Donavon had been the last to board the hover, arriving just before takeoff, and Cressa still hadn’t heard him speak.
“Where exactly are we?” Kev asked quietly.
“In Maryland,” Gretchen said. “This is my late husband’s legacy, the McDonough School for the Talented.”
Without another person in sight, Cressa felt like she was missing something. Weren’t they supposed to be rescuing Alex McDonough from the evil clutches of UNITED? Why would the Dame’s grandson be at an abandoned school?
“Come along,” Gretchen said, gesturing for the odd assembly to follow her. “This way.”
The Dame headed down a dirt pathway with Donavon on her heels and Tate trailing after. Cressa and Kev followed, his leisurely pace matching hers. It felt like ages since she’d been outside. Never in her life had Cressa seen such a large space that wasn’t filled with buildings and people and traffic. Her wide eyes darted, taking in the rugged, scenic views. A deep breath of crisp air cleared Cressa’s head. Tilting her head back, she basked in the warm sun on her face.
With a gentle tug of Kev’s hand, she started walking again. Around a bend, Tate waited alone on the path. What appeared to be a large rock had a sliding façade that led into a dark space beyond. With one gangly arm, he gestured Kev and Cressa through the hidden entrance.
It was significantly cooler once they’d passed through the opening, like the temperature had dropped by twenty degrees. The space reminded her of the hidden openings in the tunnels of the Privileged Institute. A short walk and two turns later, their group entered a room and saw a computer set up that rivaled any Cressa had seen before. The long low desk had actual keyboards, with screens mounted above that were coming to life. It was the most antiquated set-up that Cressa had ever seen, though the facilities didn’t look particularly old. There were over a dozen feeds represented when all the screens were on. The Dame selected one and zoomed it in larger.
“The team has landed in Virginia,” she said to no one in particular. Gretchen consulted her watch face. “Precisely on time.”
Sir Tate’s posture was rigid as he stared intently at the screen, hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m going to stay here,” he said. “I want to keep an eye on this.”
The Dame waved her hand indifferently.
“You may do as you wish.” She turned to face Cressa, Kev, and Donavon. One hand clutching her chest, a wide grin spread across her face. “My family will be together again soon. Come this way.”
Cressa’s heart pounded. The Dame sounded like she was starting to lose her grip on reality, but the group didn’t have a choice other than to follow her. They emerged from the underground tunnels into what looked like an ordinary basement. Up two flights of stairs, Cressa found herself in the l
iving room of an immaculate house, the sun shining through large windows. She swallowed thickly.
The Dame said “home”, Cressa thought. The furniture and décor were the same shades of ivory and blue as the Privileged leader’s private quarters at the Institute. Her teeth ground as Cressa looked around at the surreal setup. With Donavon’s doppelganger perched on the edge of a sofa, it was like Gretchen was playing a creepy game of house.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” the Dame said. Her gaze landed on Cressa and lingered a beat longer than comfortable. “I’ll just see what we have in the kitchen.”
The door swung shut, and Kev grabbed Cressa hand tightly.
“You have to stop thinking about how weird this is,” he hissed. “She can hear you.”
“What are you talking about?” Cressa asked.
Your mind is wide open. Work on that.
As the thought flit through Cressa’s mind, her jaw dropped. It wasn’t Kev’s voice invading her mental space, he didn’t have that ability. She glared at the clone.
“Work on what, exactly?” she snapped, her lips tightening until they were nearly white.
Was he supposed to be so surly? Cressa wondered. Had Donavon McDonough been a pompous pain in the ass?
“I have no idea,” faux Donavon replied. “Last week, I was thrilled to pass my 4P exam and avoid the frog pond. I was supposed to be fighting bad guys and impressing girls. Instead, I’m suddenly this lady’s dead son.”
Kev held up a hand.
“Not now. Cressa needs to focus.” When he turned to her, Kev’s palm cupped the back of her head. “While I adore how open and unassuming you are, you must work on shielding your mind, particularly when the Dame and Tate are around. Or anyone who received the 8P injection for mind manipulation.”
Instead of fear or anger, a thrill of excitement ran through Cressa. Kev Leon adored something about her.
“You should’ve been an actor,” he said. “Your face expresses everything.” The billion-dollar smile flashed for a moment before Kev turned serious again. “Think of how angry it makes you to have someone invade your mind. Do you want to have the Dame controlling your mind?”
“Of course not!” Cressa exclaimed. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice. “Has she been doing that?”
“Just some propaganda, nothing serious,” Kev said, shaking his head. “Still, take that anger and pull it into a shield. Or start with a fence. Just imagine that there’s a barrier there, something to keep you with us and dull her influence.”
“Avoid the Kool-Aid,” Donovan added unhelpfully.
The Dame strode back into the room, a tea tray in her hands. The three guests watched while she set out five teacups, then Gretchen added a small cup of milk in front of a child-sized chair at the end of the table. Donovan might have had his mind shield on lock, but he needed to work on his poker face. Cressa leaned against Kev. When was the last time she’d slept? Maybe she was hallucinating the odd scene.
A clap of her hands brought everyone’s attention to the Dame. As if it hadn’t already been there.
“Cressa, my dear, are you becoming acquainted with your brother?” She gestured to Donovan. “We cannot tell you how pleased we are that you’ve joined our family of Privileged.” The Dame nodded to Kev. “And of course, we are so very pleased to have you with us, Mr. Leon. Your charismatic powers are unparalleled. You belong here, with the most honored of the Privileged. Our compatriots are establishing order among the rebels from UNITED.”
Silence fell over the room when her speech ended.
Shield, she thought, holding on to the wish like it was her last v-credit. Shield.
The Dame checked her timepiece again, then nodded vehemently. She stood and signaled for the others to do the same, as if they were greeting a new arrival. Cressa’s eyes darted to the door, dread filling her.
It never opened. Nevertheless, a teenager with wild, darting eyes appeared in the sitting room. Clutching his hand was a small, angelic boy. Somehow, the child radiated calm. It wasn’t a situation that warranted calm. Not by far.
The Dame’s grandson. Where the hell did he come from? One minute, the welcoming party was staring at a blank space. The next, there were two additional people in the room.
Gretchen stepped forward and crouched to face the child. Even though he couldn’t see the hand moving to his shoulder, the little boy pulled back to avoid her touch.
“Alex,” Gretchen said gently. She gestured for Donavon to join her. His face drained of color, but the clone complied. “Alex, my dear. You remember your father?”
The teenager blinked from existence, leaving Alex’s hand empty. He dropped it to his side and tilted his head. The boy didn’t seem to be scared but still hadn’t said anything. The Dame shot Donovan a pointed look, nudging him toward Alex.
“H-hello,” the clone said.
Alex shook his head. “You’re not my father.”
As suddenly as the scraggly teenager had disappeared from the room, he materialized again. An arm darted out and pulled Alex backwards, away from the Dame.
Purple eyes firing ultraviolet, Talia Lyons glared at the older woman. Cressa would’ve shrunken like a shriveled flower under the seething rage. But Gretchen didn’t seem the least bit affected by the newest attendee.
In fact, she clapped.
“Now that we’re all here, let’s get caught up.”
“You’re way more deluded than your husband was,” Talia spat. “And you know exactly what happened to him.”
For the first time ever, Cressa’s second talent signature worked. Evidently, simply wanting to become invisible was enough to make it happen.
Chapter Thirty-One
Erik
Sweaty, disheveled, and practically vibrating from all the energy he was expending, Kip reappeared inside the mountain facility several minutes after leaving with Talia. Several of the Nightshade agents were stirring after my girlfriend’s blast had knocked them off their feet. Unfortunately, that same energy wave had also rendered some of our people motionless.
In the corner, Janelle groaned loudly and cradled her right arm. Brand was flat on his back, but his eyes were open and staring up at me. I offered him a hand and helped him to his feet.
“Get Janelle out of here,” I barked to Kip.
“No, I’m fine,” she protested as she used the wall to help her stand. “I’ll help you find Miles.”
Movement in my periphery caught my attention. One of the Nightshade agents had her weapon raised, and it was pointed at Janelle’s chest. In one fluid mental motion, I grabbed the gun with an invisible hand and slammed her against the ground. The impact held so much force that her eyes rolled back in her head. She may or may not have still been breathing.
“You’re injured. Go,” Brand snapped.
“And don’t come back for us until I tell you to,” I added.
Kip grabbed Janelle’s good arm. Before I blinked, they were gone.
“You’ll never make it out of here,” a voice rasped near the doorway.
A large man with three horizontal streaks of silver down each of his cheeks peered in our direction. He was badly injured, likely a broken back by the weird angle of his body. A large chunk of the stone wall had crushed his leg, yet he seemingly felt no pain.
Brand stepped over him without a word. When I followed, fingers caught hold of my ankle. Instinctively, I snatched Brand’s gun from his waist and pointed it downward. The man with the silver claw marks laughed, blood trickling from one nostril.
“The Dame knows all,” he wheezed, licking his lips. “She sees all. You can’t run from her. You can’t hide from her. We, the Privileged, the chosen ones—“
“Gretchen McDonough is just a woman,” I snapped.
Confusion washed over his face. Like Gracia, it seemed he had no clue who his leader truly was nor the significance of her identity. He shook it off quickly, though.
A sneer curved his lips as more blood trailed from his nose, staining his
teeth a pinkish-red. “Call her whatever you like, she knew you’d come here.”
“No, she assumed we’d come,” Brand said dryly. He nudged my arm. “Come on. Let’s find Miles and get out of here.”
I holstered Brand’s gun on my belt and yanked free of the dying man’s grip. Though he wasn’t completely beyond medical attention, something told me Gretchen McDonough had little use for wounded soldiers. Putting him out of his misery would’ve been the humane thing to do. Nevertheless, after walking into an ambush, I wasn’t feeling very humane.
“She knew I’d die in New Mexico!” the man hollered as Brand and I walked away. “I made the sacrifice willingly. I would die a thousand deaths for the Dame!”
“I’ll make you feel like you died a thousand deaths,” I muttered under my breath. It wasn’t an empty threat. I just had better things to do than follow through on the promise.
“Who says shit like that?” Brand wondered.
Despite the gravity of our situation, I smiled at his words. It had been a long time since I’d spent time with Brand, and I’d forgotten how much I liked his company. If only he and Talia could reach some sort of understanding. Like maybe they’d agree to only fight on days of the week that started with S.
“Don’t believe me?” called the Privileged man.
I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head like needles.
“Where’s that crazy-ass girlfriend of yours?” he sang in a lulling voice. “I know. Do you?”
My steps faltered. Even Brand stopped short.
“Tals? Where are you?” I sent.
Brand met my gaze over his shoulder.
“Natalia,” he snapped inside my head.
“Not answering? Maybe her mental shields are up—that is what you call them, right?” The man’s laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit. For one terrible second, I thought he might die before telling me Talia’s location.