“What do we now?” Mrs. Latimar asked softly.
She regarded Amanda plaintively, as if she was suddenly the adult. It was a fair question. One Amanda had no idea how to answer. “You can’t tell them that I know,” she said. “That’s the most important thing.”
“No, of course not!” Mrs. Latimar looked horrified. “I would never put you in that kind of danger.”
Amanda bit back the retort that she hadn’t had a problem putting kids in danger up until now. She continued forcefully, “And you can’t give them any more files.”
“But he’s supposed to come tomorrow,” Mrs. Latimar said weakly. “I have to give him something.”
The rough outline of a plan was forming in Amanda’s head. It was risky, but might work. “We’ll give him old files,” she said slowly. “Kids we know are safe. We can change the dates on them, so they won’t figure it out for a while.”
“Which kids?” Mrs. Latimar asked, her eyes narrowing.
“The ones who never came back, from years ago. By now, they’ll either be too old for the project, or—”
“Or dead,” Mrs. Latimar said, nodding. “Good. That’s a good idea. Of course . . . they’ll realize soon, won’t they?”
“Probably,” Amanda conceded. “But it gives us some time. And we don’t risk anyone else’s life,” she added firmly.
“Okay.” Mrs. Latimar looked relieved. “I guess we’d better get started, then. The old files are in storage in the back.”
“I’ll get them,” Amanda said. “I know where they are.”
“Yes, of course you do.” Mrs. Latimar wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you, Amanda.”
“You can thank me,” Amanda said through gritted teeth, “by doing everything you can to try and repair the damage you caused.”
Teo bounced in place, trying to ease the pressure on his swollen bladder. They were at a gas station off Route 5, indistinguishable from a dozen others they’d passed on the road. Noa had allotted ten minutes to use the facilities and grab some food from the mini mart. He’d ended up last in line for the restroom.
He’d let Daisy go in ahead of him, and was now sorely regretting his chivalry. She was taking forever.
The door finally opened, and Daisy appeared, looking apologetic. “Sorry it took so long.”
“No worries,” Teo said, his voice strained.
She stepped aside, and with an overwhelming sense of relief, he slipped past her.
When he emerged a few minutes later, Daisy was waiting for him.
“Hey,” she said earnestly.
“Hey,” Teo replied. Daisy must’ve splashed some water on her face; she looked great, even though like the rest of them she’d barely slept. The unconscious girl took up a disproportionate amount of floor space in the van, and the addition of Taylor and Matt meant that the whole group was piled on top of one another. Teo had spent most of the day waking up from a restless sleep with an elbow in his back or a foot in his face.
Daisy looked fantastic, though. Her blue eyeliner was perfectly applied, and her lips looked shiny and full. And once he’d noticed that, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at them. Even her outfit looked put together: tall black combat boots, ripped tights, a sheer white shirt over a black tank, and layers of bracelets on her wrists. Like she’d just stepped off the pages of a hip magazine.
“I wanted to apologize for, you know . . .” Daisy’s eyes drifted to the ground. She kicked a gum wrapper away with the toe of her boot. “How I lost it last night during the raid. I’m, like, totally embarrassed about it.”
“No worries,” Teo said, even though he felt a flash of irritation at the memory of struggling with the gear shift while she wailed in the background. “You did all right in the end.”
“Yeah, but I almost got us caught.” She raised her head. “And if anything had happened to you, I would’ve felt really awful. Anyway, I’m sorry.”
Teo pictured Boss Man, his face contorted with rage as he shot at them. . . . It had been close. And it had, at least partly, been her fault. But he wasn’t the kind of person who held grudges. “I know how you can make it up to me.”
“Really?” Daisy’s eyes widened. “How?”
“Teach me to drive.”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess you do kind of need to learn that.”
“It would help,” he said drily. “You know, in case you freak out again.”
For a second he worried that he’d pushed it too far, but she took the teasing in stride. She poked him in the arm and said, “I can’t believe you didn’t strip the transmission last night, the way you were grinding those gears.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” he confessed, smiling, and she laughed again.
“All right, I’ll teach you. But we’ll have to wait until Santa Cruz. I don’t think Zeke’ll trust you with the van.”
“Sure,” Teo said. “That’s cool.”
“What’s Teo short for, anyway?”
He considered lying to her. Plenty of times he’d told people that it was from Mateo, because that sounded a lot cooler than his real name. But Daisy was gazing up at him with her enormous trusting blue eyes. He swallowed hard and said, “Teodoro.”
The corners of her mouth tweaked and she said, “Like, Teddy?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Like that.”
“That’s so cute!” She punched his arm playfully. “I love that, like you’re a teddy bear! I’m so calling you Teddy from now on.”
With his slight build, it was unlikely he’d be mistaken for a teddy bear; certainly, no one had ever accused him of being cuddly. But as far as he was concerned, Daisy could call him pretty much anything she wanted.
They stood there for another minute, the silence between them suddenly awkward. Teo didn’t know where to focus—no matter what he tried, his eyes kept coming back to her lips.
Then, without warning, those lips were suddenly pressing against his. Teo’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he’d been focusing so intently that he’d moved in unconsciously, or if she’d started it. The kiss felt strange at first, almost too rough. But after a few seconds she tilted her head slightly to one side, and suddenly it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be standing outside a filthy roadside bathroom, making out with a girl with bright blue hair.
A car horn sounded, startling them. They broke apart. Daisy’s lips were slightly parted, and she was breathing hard. Her cheeks had flushed bright red. Teo’s whole body was humming in a way he’d never experienced, like kissing her had thrown some sort of switch.
“Um, we should probably go,” Daisy said when the horn blared again.
“Yeah, I guess . . . um, yeah.” His brain was still thrumming so loudly he was barely capable of coherent speech.
As Teo followed her back around the corner, his mind did some sort of reboot, and with it came a flood of worries. He’d never kissed a girl before, not really, just pecks on the lips when he was a kid. And this . . . Well, it hadn’t been anything like that. What did he say to her now? How was he supposed to act?
The onslaught of thoughts made him feel slightly nauseous.
Footsteps behind them; he turned to find Taylor trailing a few feet back. She was wearing a pair of Vans, a tight pink T-shirt, and jean shorts, all donated from the other girls—who were smaller than her, so the clothes clung tightly to her frame. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, Teo caught himself thinking. He flushed again.
“Hey, Taylor,” Daisy said, noticing her. “You get to use the bathroom?”
“Yeah, I’m just coming from there.” The girl smiled breezily at them. “Nasty, wasn’t it?”
Teo frowned. “What, just now?”
“Yeah. Why?” Taylor tossed her hair. “Are you the bathroom police or something?”
Daisy laughed, which threw him. He stared at the ground, feeling like an idiot.
“Ugh, I cannot wait to get to Santa Cruz,” Taylor continued, making a face. “The van sucks, right?”
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Teo wanted to say that considering she’d been strapped to a table the night before, the van was pretty comfy by comparison. But he simply nodded and said, “Yeah, it’s pretty crowded.”
“I hope we get some real food there, too.” Taylor fell in stride beside them. They rounded the corner to the front of the station, where the van idled in front of the mini mart. “I hate junk food.”
Teo couldn’t help himself—his eyebrows shot up. You lived on junk food as a street kid; candy bars were cheap and easy to steal and had enough fat and calories to get you through the day. No one who had spent any time on the streets dissed junk food; it was their staple, the main thing keeping them alive.
“I don’t know, I’d kill for some Cheetos and a Coke,” Daisy said.
“Well, they probably have those inside,” Taylor said. “Enjoy. I’m going to try to find a spot where I don’t have to lie on anyone.”
“Good luck with that,” Daisy said breezily.
Teo watched Taylor slide open the van door and pick her way gracefully through the forms huddled in back. “Huh,” he said hesitantly. “That was seriously weird, right?”
“Weird how?” Daisy asked.
“Well, I mean . . . she couldn’t have been in the bathroom. We would’ve seen her, right?”
Daisy shrugged. “So what?”
She was looking at him like he was some kind of paranoid freak. Hurriedly, he said, “Yeah, you’re right. No big deal.”
Another long blare of the horn. Daisy rose up on her toes, pecked him on the lips, then winked and said, “Race you!”
She tore off, her combat boots chewing up the pavement between them and the van. Teo recovered and followed, watching her blue ponytail bounce against her back as she ran.
Peter was finding it difficult to breathe. The words on the screen seemed to pulse with malevolent intent. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as if Mason was actually standing behind him. How did he know about the break-ins? Peter cursed himself. He must’ve triggered some sort of backup system. He should’ve known that Mason was too smart to be cavalier about home security.
Still, he didn’t dare touch his keyboard. It was silly, but he could picture Mason’s hand reaching straight through the screen and wrapping around his throat, like something out of a horror movie.
More words appeared. I KNOW YOU’RE THERE, PETER. DO YOU THINK YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE WITH COMPUTER SKILLS?
That gave him a start. There was no way Mason could have installed a Trojan horse on his laptop—it was never out of his sight. Peter even left it perched on the bathroom counter when he showered. So what the hell?
GETTING BORED HERE, PETER. THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO CHAT.
Peter drew a deep breath, then lowered shaky hands to the keyboard and typed, It’s creepy for guys your age to chat with teenage boys online.
False bravado, but Mason didn’t have to know that he scared the crap out of him.
OH, BUT WE’RE OLD FRIENDS, PETER. I CAN’T TELL YOU HOW SORRY I WAS TO HEAR THAT YOU HAVEN’T BEEN BEHAVING YOURSELF.
“Old friends my ass,” Peter muttered, feeling a flare of rage as he pictured Amanda’s gaunt frame. GO TO HELL, he typed back.
WE’RE ALREADY IN HELL, PETER. WE MIGHT AS WELL HELP EACH OTHER SURVIVE IT.
Peter hesitated, momentarily dumbfounded. What kind of game was Mason playing? He finally wrote, I’d never help you.
YOU ALREADY HAVE, Mason wrote, BY TAPPING INTO THOSE SERVERS. OF COURSE, THERE’S NOTHING VALUABLE THERE.
Peter’s jaw nearly dropped. How could Mason know about that? Had he been followed this entire time? And if so, had he inadvertently put Noa in danger?
More words materialized on-screen: DON’T WORRY, PETER. YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME.
Peter considered claiming that he had no idea what Mason was talking about, but that seemed futile. It felt like the ground was dissolving beneath him, swallowing him up. What do you want?
I TOLD YOU, PETER. THERE’S A WAY WE CAN HELP EACH OTHER.
This had to be a trick. There was no way Mason would come to him for help; he had a seemingly limitless supply of goons at his disposal. But, Peter reasoned, there was no harm in finding out what he wanted, right? How?
After a beat, Mason wrote, I WANT YOU TO HACK INTO SOMETHING FOR ME.
Peter snorted. Pretty rich coming from the guy who’d stolen his iPhone and laptop months ago to keep him from hacking. Ironic didn’t even begin to describe it. Really, he typed. Trying to get out of paying taxes? Or did you get kicked out of the Evil Villains forum, and you want to see what they’re saying about you?
The worst part was that Peter could picture Mason smirking as he read that; and when the response came, he could practically hear the words being spoken in that oily voice. SUCH A COMEDIAN, PETER. SHAME THAT YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE TO PURSUE THAT TALENT INSTEAD.
“Yeah, right,” Peter muttered. “I bet you’re really bummed about that.”
More words were already streaming on-screen. I WANT YOU TO HACK INTO THE PROJECT PERSEPHONE FILES. I KNOW WHERE THE SERVER IS LOCATED.
Peter sucked in a breath. What was going on here? His heart racing, he typed, I got those files months ago, jerkwad.
YOU’RE MISTAKEN, PETER. THERE ARE MORE FILES THAN YOU EVER SAW.
Peter cracked his knuckles, trying to ignore the shiver that was running up and down his spine. It felt like the temperature in his room had dropped at least ten degrees. He finally wrote, What makes you think I’d get messed up with all that again?
Rather than text, a jpeg link appeared on-screen. With a twinge of dread, Peter clicked on it, expecting to see a creepy shot of Amanda in her dorm room, or heading to class.
When an image of Noa materialized, it struck him dumb. For a second, his heart clenched with terror; had Mason captured her again?
No, he realized, examining it more closely. This was an older shot of Noa. The leaves on the trees behind her were red and yellow, obviously autumn foliage in New England. It must’ve been taken back when they were stalking her, preparing to kidnap her for their nasty experiments.
That ticked him off again. WHY ARE YOU SHOWING ME THIS?! he typed.
BECAUSE IF YOU DON’T HELP ME GET THOSE FILES, PETER, MISS TORSON IS GOING TO DIE.
PART THREE
INVASION
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Noa got out of the van and stretched her arms high above her head. She’d driven the last leg of the trip, a four-hour stint, and her whole body felt sore and cramped. The rear doors opened and everyone spilled out, clearly relieved to escape the close quarters.
It had taken fourteen hours to drive from Phoenix to Santa Cruz. They’d made good time, all things considered. They were arriving a little past seven p.m. The sun had already set, and as she stood in front of the Forsythes’ palatial compound, Noa could hear the distant sound of waves lapping at the shore. Fields and orchards stretched away from her, leading to cliffs that plummeted down to the Pacific. Lights glowed out of every window on the ground floor, warm and inviting.
The Forsythes’ place was a sprawling complex, with barns, sheds, and guesthouses strewn across fifty acres. The main house had six bedrooms on two levels; most were part of the original farmhouse. The Forsythes had remodeled, but retained the stone walls and original rough lumber ceilings. Noa knew that the place was probably worth a fortune, but you’d never guess the Forsythes had money. They dressed like aging hippies: tie-dye shirts, jeans, and what she considered to be an excessive amount of hemp.
The couple had never told her where their money came from, and Noa had never asked. Zeke had explained that they were both trained doctors who ended up working in biotech. Apparently they’d patented something that earned them a fortune, allowing them to retire in their early fifties. He’d never been clear on why they were so motivated to fight Project Persephone; but after meeting them, Noa figured they were the type who threw themselves wholeheartedly into a cause. They’d just happened to settle o
n this one.
The front door of the main house popped open, framing Monica Forsythe. She was drying her hands on a dishtowel, her face crinkled in a wide smile. Noa lifted a hand to wave, hoping that their arrival wasn’t poorly timed. She’d tried calling to give them a heads-up, using a burner phone bought at the gas station. But they’d changed numbers again. Which wasn’t surprising. With everything they’d learned about Pike & Dolan, the Forsythes suffered from a healthy dose of paranoia, which Noa could certainly appreciate. Knowing how careful they were made this the one place on the planet where she was almost able to relax.
As Noa walked across their gravel driveway toward the main house, the tension eased from her body. Even though she had spent less than a month here in total, it felt more like home than anywhere she’d been in the past eight years. The main house looked like something out of a fairy tale: Vines wound along the outside walls, almost covering the windows. There were high-peaked dormers, and a round tower that used to be a silo. The second story of the tower had been turned into a bathroom with stained-glass windows surrounding an enormous claw-foot tub. Noa could already imagine sinking into it, a damp washcloth over her eyes as she used her toes to send more hot water coursing into the bath. She sighed. The terrible events of the past few days: the dead bodyguard, the debacle at the warehouse, the flight across several states . . . all of that receded.
“It’s so good to see you!” Monica enveloped her in a tight embrace. Normally, Noa shied away from physical contact, but that wasn’t really an option with Monica Forsythe. And for some reason, it never bothered her. She leaned her head against the shorter woman’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of cinnamon and dish soap and lavender.
“Really happy to be here,” Noa said, smiling back.
“Well, we’re thrilled to have you home, safe and sound.” She patted Noa’s cheek as if she was an elderly aunt and Noa was ten years old.
Monica reached for Zeke next, but her eyes were already scanning the group; Noa could see her doing a mental head count. “Is everyone okay?”
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