Will quickly grabbed a phone and an unlabeled envelope from his locker, and looked around at all the faces turned toward them. He turned a meaningful glance on his friend and indicated they should leave before making more of a scene.
“Where we gonna go, Will?” Jim asked.
“We’re going back to the island until we get orders to do otherwise,” replied Will with determination, and he walked straight back toward the doors leading out of the building.
Jim stood stock-still for a moment with his mouth hanging slightly open. “Will, you can’t go there without permission. You know that. How can we even afford to get there?” Jim was practically jogging to catch up as he wove in and out of the crowd of students.
“Hey, Jim!” a girl called out as they were leaving.
Jim turned just in time to see the kiss she was blowing in his direction. He growled as he struggled to keep up with a very determined Will.
“You have to call him. You know that,” he said to Will as they pushed past the double doors and walked toward the parking lot. “People are going to be talking about us leaving in the middle of the day. It’s going to create a scene. Just think for a minute about what you’re doing.” Jim was practically begging now. “It isn’t going to help her if we draw attention to ourselves.”
This last statement made Will stop walking. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he stared for a minute at the gravel underneath his shoes.
“Fine,” he conceded. “We finish the day, but then we call him. I’m leaving tonight regardless of his answer.”
The rest of the day was a blur for Will. He went to his classes in a daze. He kept repeating the events of that morning in his head and the look on her face as she left the classroom. At lunch he sat alone. Why was Preda retrieved so early? he wondered. What could possibly have happened? Anxiety for the people he knew back home forced him to consider that it wasn’t something that had happened here to force their hands. The Soundless might have finally taken action.
Jim kicked him in the leg as he sat down next to him at the lunch table, which interrupted Will from the dangerous line of thought. As usual three girls followed Jim to the otherwise empty table. One of them was Ashley Burke, an annoying blonde who liked to talk down to Preda. Will sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
The look on Jim’s face was one of forced joviality. Will forced himself to take a cue from his friend, and with barely a trace of the emotion he felt roiling through him, he smiled. “Good afternoon, ladies. How are you on this fine day?”
One of them—Will thought her name might be Kerri—started talking animatedly. “Oh, Will, you were there, weren’t you? We heard the cops came and took the mute girl to prison!”
Another girl chimed in before he could reply. “No, Kerri. They took her away in a straitjacket. Ben Pearson said so.”
Will clenched his jaw to keep from drawing attention to himself. Jim smoothly interceded. “Ladies, you know it wasn’t like that. It was just the school principal. Nothing major.”
Jim took a bite of apple and winked at Will as if it was all just a big joke.
“But that’s not what Silvia said.” Kerri wasn’t about to let it go.
“She’s always following you around, Will,” Ashley Burke said too innocently. “What do you think happened to her?”
She looked at him with carefully lowered eyelashes and a sickly sweet smile. Will glanced at Ashley’s expectant face and decided she thought too much of herself. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but Jim elbowed him sharply in the ribs.
“Silvia said we were going to her party tonight. You ladies going?” Jim asked, and he smiled.
With that they started talking excitedly about what they were going to wear and which girls they didn’t want to show up. Will felt slightly nauseated as the conversation continued. It wasn’t until Jim kicked him again that he realized his leg was bouncing up and down and causing the table to vibrate.
“You OK, Will?” Kerri asked. “You nervous about the game tomorrow night? Don’t worry. We’ll cheer our hearts out for you!”
Will mumbled his thanks and stood up to bring his tray back. The rest of the day went by in a series of similar exchanges before the last bell finally signaled his freedom from the charade. He stood and unzipped his bag to ensure the phone and envelope were still where he had left them, and made a quick getaway to the car.
When he was safely in the driver’s seat of his old green station wagon, the passenger door opened abruptly. Jim quickly got in. His friend finally had a serious expression, and Will slowly shook his head. He wished he could feign ignorance as easily as Jim seemed to be able to.
“We need to drive away from here before we call him,” Jim said.
He was all business now. Will nodded and pulled out of the parking lot a little too fast. His nervous energy had built up for too long, and when they were on the highway, he was speeding. Jim seemed to understand his friend’s need to move quickly after stalling for the entire day, and he remained silent. He was tense, though, in the passenger seat.
Will drove to Miami International Airport without even thinking about it. Jim didn’t say a word as they parked the car in long-term parking and walked toward the departure terminals. Will was a rank above Jim, and when push came to shove, Jim could say he was just following his superior ranking officer’s orders.
Will bought two one-way tickets to Buenos Aires, Argentina, with cash produced from the envelope in his bag. Jim gaped at the substantial stack of hundred-dollar bills, but he held his tongue. The flight was for later that evening. They had approximately seven hours to wait, and the sun was setting. They went through security and sat wordlessly in the lounge near their gate.
After about an hour, Jim finally spoke up. “What’s going on, Will? You’ve never gone against orders before.”
Will quietly replied, “We currently don’t have orders, Jim. As far as I’m concerned, this is part of the previous assignment. We are supposed to maintain surveillance over her, and I know this is where they’re going. I’m simply following an educated deduction.”
“More like a wild guess,” Jim hissed. “We have no idea where he’s taken her. For all we know, he brought her back to Phillip Torrance. Maybe they’re moving again, which would mean our assignment is finished.”
“Either way we would be heading to the island eventually,” Will replied calmly.
Jim groaned and realized Will wasn’t budging on this. “Fine, but I’m going to order some chicken wings before we call him and he kills us.”
With that statement he ordered two dozen wings and ate every single one by himself.
8
Preda woke the next morning to the smell of bacon. She tried to lift her head, but the weight of a cat tangled in her hair weighed her down. She groaned, and reached back to carefully extract the sleeping feline. Fiver yawned lazily and stretched his front legs out. A paw landed on top of her eye. He was clearly not interested in helping.
After what seemed like minutes of struggling, Preda was free of the cat, and she clumsily rolled out of bed. She looked around the room in the light of day and sighed at how beautiful it was. Compared with the stark furnishings and bare walls she was used to, this room was lavish. Attention to detail was obvious in the coordinated colors and trinkets all around the room.
Preda gently picked up a teddy bear from the bedside table. She hadn’t even noticed him last night. He was wearing a red bow tie, and the plush fur was soft underneath her fingers. She hugged him for a brief instant and felt like a child again.
As she put the teddy bear carefully back in his place propped against the lamp, Preda turned to Fiver. “Ready to face this, buddy?” The cat hopped off the bed, trotted to the door, and purred. She laughed to herself and muttered, “That makes one of us.”
Fiver led the way down the hall toward the kitchen, and Preda could hear t
he comforting sounds of a metal spatula scraping a pan. She walked into the kitchen to see Mr. Scott standing at the stove. He was wearing an apron. He had his back to her as he was cooking. Foxy was nowhere to be seen, and she smiled in relief as she quietly pulled a chair out to sit at the table.
Mr. Scott was humming “Moon River” and didn’t seem to notice Preda was in the kitchen. She took a minute to take in her surroundings. The kitchen seemed well used. Dish towels were on the counter, and a spice rack was in complete disarray. Despite the chaos, Mr. Scott grabbed things off the shelves without even looking to see where they were. Preda chewed her lower lip absentmindedly and watched him. How long has he been living here?
As she watched the veritable ballet that was Mr. Scott in the kitchen, Preda realized no one had ever cooked for her like this—at least not that she could remember. As soon as she was old enough to reach the counter with a step stool and use a can opener, she had learned to fend for herself. That was the way of the Torrance household.
Just as she was about to speak and tell him so, Mr. Scott turned around with a panful of scrambled eggs. Seeing Preda sitting there quietly startled him, and he flung the pan back so that eggs fell over the side and onto the floor. Fiver immediately jumped off the chair next to Preda where he had been perched. The cat started making quick work of the eggs before anybody else could clean them.
Preda stood and stammered, “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner. I was just watching you cook and…well…it was wonderful.”
Mr. Scott gave her an appraising look. “It’s all right,” he said after a moment. “I’m just not used to having people sneak up on me in my kitchen. You’re like Tamron in how quiet you can be.”
Preda moved to get one of the dish towels from the counter to wipe up the eggs. “Quiet is my specialty, Mr. Scott.”
“Don’t call me that. Please call me Al,” he said a little too quickly, and he carefully put the pan and the rest of the eggs back on the stove. “And please don’t clean that up, Preda. I’ll get it. You just sit down. What would you like to drink? I have orange juice.”
Preda giggled to herself at his effortless selflessness and continued to wipe the floor anyway. Fiver put his paw on the towel to prevent it from moving, and he quickly tried to lick up the last bit of egg.
“I almost forgot,” Al exclaimed. “I have something for you, Fiver.”
Al rummaged through the pantry until he found the stack of gourmet cat food tins. He picked out one labeled “Ocean Delight.” He emptied the can into a bowl and placed it on the table in front of the chair Fiver had been sitting in. Fiver jumped back onto his chair and politely ate at the table as if he ate breakfast there every morning.
Preda stared in wonder as she sat back down. Al served her breakfast with orange juice. It was delicious. When she and Fiver were cleaning their plates, Foxy walked in from the back door in the kitchen. He was wearing the same gray suit jacket he had been wearing when he had picked her up from class the day before.
“Good,” he said. “You’ve eaten. Let’s go. We can talk more on the way.”
Preda gulped down the last of her orange juice and said, “I have some questions first.” Then she looked at Al. “For both of you.”
Al stopped cleaning the dishes and sat down at the table. “I think that’s only fair.”
“We’ve wasted precious time sleeping this morning. I would like to make sure we reach the airport before this evening,” Foxy grumbled, but he still sat down with his fingers laced together on the table in front of him.
Preda swallowed. “The airport? Not the Miami airport. We drove away from it last night.”
“No. A different airport,” he replied. “By necessity we’ve had to detour from the most direct path.” Foxy glared in Al’s direction.
Al shrugged. “A little detour and delay will throw them off her scent.”
“Throw who off my scent? I have had enough secrets. I want to know where we’re going, why I’m in danger, and who I am!”
Without realizing it, Preda had stood and raised her voice. She looked at both men and then sat down. She immediately regretted her outburst. Al was shaking and staring at the table. Foxy had his hands over his ears and an expression of extreme concentration while he gazed at her.
“I’m so sorry.” She spoke barely above a whisper. She realized she had actually come close to hurting them. “I thought my voice didn’t affect you.”
Foxy lowered his hands and took a moment to collect himself before speaking. “It does affect us, Preda. We are devoted to you. On a genetic level, we live only to protect you. When you speak, your voice does not force itself on us, but it does affect us.”
“What do you mean, genetic?” Preda was speaking normally now but in a quiet tone. She could see Al was starting to recover.
“I mean our families have been linked for generations,” Foxy said with a serious expression. “Our ancestors have been aligned with yours since the beginning of our written history. You are not human, Preda, and neither are we. We share a common ancestor with humans, but we have evolved on a different path. In a different place.”
Preda’s head was spinning, but she tried to keep her voice calm and level. “Why am I here then? Are you both from these families?”
Al answered this time. “Tamron and I are cousins from the same family. We are from the Kait family, but there are three others.” After a moment he added, “Besides yours.”
Preda smiled at this. “You and Foxy are related?”
Al burst out laughing. “Foxy?” he exclaimed as soon as he caught his breath. “Oh, I love that.”
Tamron Fox looked less amused and continued as though nothing had occurred. “I know this is a lot to take in. To put it simply, you’re here because we are at war. The sole purpose of your isolation was to allow you to grow up, but we have been here with you every step of the way. Even if you didn’t know it. You are younger than we’d like, and we will have to train you and teach you along the way, but your family has always been resilient.”
Both men stood expectantly, but Preda numbly stared straight ahead. After a minute she said, “My family? Along the way where?”
Al answered. “You are the last of the Vozia family, and we’re taking you home, Preda.”
9
Preda Vozia had such a nice ring to it. Preda tried speaking it aloud a few times quietly to herself as she walked back to the bedroom where she had slept the night before. It sounded so much better than Torrance. She thought back to all the times her father—no, Phillip—had used her full name as a taunt against her. Preda-Tor. Maybe she was a predator, but she was also a Vozia. Whatever that meant.
Fiver led the way down the hall. She galloped with the excitement and anticipation she felt. By the time she followed him into the room, he was already turning around in his carrier and settling in. The cat acted as if it was a chariot rather than a cage.
Al was right behind her and indicated she should open the closet. Preda did and found several sets of shirts and pants as well as a bag to keep them in.
“I hope everything fits all right,” he said. “We’ll be waiting in the car whenever you’re ready. I’ll take Fiver.”
After Al left with Fiver in his arms, Preda immediately started rummaging through the new clothes. They felt expensive. They looked fitted. There wasn’t enough black, though. She sighed and grabbed a light blue silk top and jeans and went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and change.
As Preda gazed in the mirror with her toothbrush in hand, she felt as if her face had changed. It seemed impossible, but the girl who had woken up yesterday was a different person today. Her eyes looked a shade brighter green. This time, though, when she gazed back at herself, she didn’t have the compulsion to look away.
When Preda was finished, she stuffed her new wardrobe into her bag and considered her oversize gray hoodie. With
a sense of finality, she chose not to take it with her and left it lying across the bed. She took one last look at the cracked ceramic pot Al had saved for her and shut the door behind her.
Preda walked out of the house and locked the door behind her. Both men were sitting in the front of the Crown Vic, and she crawled into the backseat with Fiver. “Would you like music?” asked Al.
Preda said yes, and he found a generic classic rock station they could all agree on. Foxy gave his assent with a grunt when asked if it was acceptable. They drove back onto I-95 northbound, and no one in the front of the car seemed eager to divulge exactly where they were going. Preda busied herself with stroking Fiver’s fur through the bars of the carrier door, and she felt him purring. Eventually she rested her head on top of the carrier and fell asleep. She drifted in and out of sleep but occasionally caught snippets of conversation.
“The cat is going to be an issue,” she heard Foxy say.
“The only issue I foresee is if we try to take the cat from her,” Al replied.
Preda smiled to herself. She knew he was right and fell back asleep. She had no dreams and no concept of how much time had passed until she awoke suddenly to Foxy parking the car. She looked out the window and saw a sign that said Fort Lauderdale Airport.
Preda wiped the drool from the side of her face with the back of her hand and dried it on her jeans. She imagined this probably wasn’t very Vozia-like behavior, whatever that was supposed to be like. She hastily smoothed her straight black hair back from where it was sticking upward on the left side of her head, and moved to open the door. It was locked. She caught Foxy’s eyes in the rearview mirror and belatedly realized Al was no longer in the car.
“We’re waiting for Al’s signal,” Foxy said.
Al’s signal? Preda almost laughed to herself. This was too much like a spy movie to take seriously. She stopped as soon as she saw the trace of anxiety in Foxy’s eyes. Fine, she thought. We’ll wait for Al’s signal.
Preda's Voice (Guardians of Vaka Book 1) Page 5