The MORE Trilogy

by T. M. Franklin

  She sighed, a mixture of fear and excitement racing through her. “Okay. What sho—”

  “Anything,” he hissed. “Just think something over and over, and I’ll try to guess what it is. Maybe a number?”

  Pfft! Too easy.

  She tried to come up with something even better but got distracted by the pink flowers blooming behind the teacher’s shoes. She wondered if they grew naturally in the area or if they were something unique, created by the woman’s power.

  The color’s so bright. Almost Pepto-Bismol or Barbie Dream Hou—

  “Pink,” Isaiah said firmly.

  Sophie gasped. “I wasn’t ready!”

  Isaiah laughed. “I was right, wasn’t I? I couldn’t make out specific words—not like before—but I could hear ‘pink.’ Or maybe see it? Feel it? I don’t know. I just knew it was pink.”

  Sophie forced a grin through her trepidation.

  This is real.

  Isaiah, apparently, had a gift as well, which meant he really was one of the Twelve.

  Which means . . .

  She didn’t like to think about what it meant, so instead, she bumped his shoulder with her own and whispered, “Let’s try again.”

  By the time they made it to the SUVs concealed in the metal garage off a dirt road leading to the Trans-Canada highway, Isaiah could pick individual words or numbers out of Sophie’s head with little or no effort. Complex thoughts were a little more difficult, although it seemed as if he could also sense emotions to a certain extent. It only worked one way, though. He tried to push words into Sophie’s head, and at one point even tried to get Tyra to scratch her nose, but to no avail.

  It reminded Sophie of when they were kids sharing secrets—the two of them against the world.

  They’d been on the road for about six hours when Isaiah nudged Sophie out of a near-doze against the window.

  She cast him a questioning glance, and he nodded toward Tyra, who was in the front passenger seat, talking quietly on her cell. Isaiah opened his mouth, but something made Sophie hold a finger to her lips. She rummaged in her bag for a small notebook and pen and held them out to him.

  He tilted his head and stared at the back of Tyra’s head, his eyes narrowing in concentration. After a brief moment, he scribbled in the book and turned it so Sophie could read it.

  Something’s wrong. She thinks we’re being followed.

  Sophie started to take the pen, but Isaiah apparently knew what she was going to ask.

  Not sure who. Tyra thinks Rogues? Council? He paused then added, She’s worried.

  Sophie didn’t know Gideon’s second-in-command that well, but she knew enough to know the woman didn’t get worried, at least not easily. She took the notebook and tucked it back into her backpack, glancing over her shoulder out the back window of the SUV. She saw the second car close behind them and a third in the distance, but nobody beyond that. A shiver of unease settled between her shoulders. Not fear, at least not for herself. Her little brother, though . . .

  “Are you okay?” Isaiah whispered.

  Sophie nodded and took his hand. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” She fought to believe it herself, but as she snuck another look out the back of the car, she knew she’d do whatever it took to protect Isaiah.

  Ava had said that others would want her, would want Isaiah. Whether it was the Rogues or the Council, it didn’t matter. Sophie knew that if there was someone following them, and that someone was after Isaiah, they’d have to get through her first.

  And something Sophie was quickly learning was how to put up a good fight.

  “Five minutes and I’ll be good,” Caleb said, collapsing on a fallen log to catch his breath. “Maybe ten.”

  They’d been shifting all morning, taking short breaks in between for Caleb to chew on R-cubes and regain his energy. Gideon and Tiernan opted for a helicopter out of Winnipeg, but Caleb preferred not to fly unless absolutely necessary, so shifting it was.

  Ava was enjoying having Caleb to herself for a while, and if she got to spend most of that time in his arms, well, all the better.

  “How much farther?” she asked as she took a seat next to him and leaned into his side.

  Caleb consulted the GPS on his phone. “Another six or seven shifts should do it,” he replied. “We should get there a little after Gideon.”

  Ava nodded, sliding an arm around his waist as she curled into him.

  Caleb popped another R-cube into his mouth before stretching his arm over her shoulder and pressing a kiss to her temple. “You okay?”

  She hummed, closing her eyes and basking in Caleb’s warmth, his scent. She could almost fall asleep like this. Her night had been frustratingly short and interrupted by vague nightmares that she couldn’t remember once she’d awakened—flashes of shadow and blood, fear and fury. The dreams had left her exhausted and unsettled with her intuition on edge ever since.

  As if sensing her discomfort, Caleb pulled her onto his lap. He traced light fingertips over her cheek, lifting her face so he could kiss her.

  She sighed into the touch, melted into the kiss, and wished this was it—that everything else could just fade away while they lived in the moment forever. She was hyperaware of every place Caleb’s skin touched hers, his palm against her cheek, fingers tracing lightly over her ear, his lips moving softly against hers, reassuring and firm. She slid her own arms around his neck to hold him close, the mingling of their power comforting her in her very core.

  But . . .

  There was something else, too. Another niggling sensation pushing through. An echo of her nightmare, perhaps, or maybe something more.

  Ava broke away and drew a shaky breath.

  “What is it?” Caleb asked.

  “I don’t—I’m not sure.”

  Sophie’s heart raced as the SUV sped around a wide curve and Tyra shouted into the cell phone, “Get Adam on that pyro or something! We’ve got to get—”

  The crash of a fireball next to the car cut off her words, the resulting explosion rocking the vehicle.

  “We’ve got to get off the highway,” Tyra told the driver. “Get out of this damned car so we can fight back!”

  “You want to face that pyro head-on?” he replied, swerving around a slow-moving car in front of them.

  “A bullet will take him out. Doesn’t matter what his gift is.” She pointed to the right. “There—take that exit. Try to shake him through town.” She turned her attention back to the cell. “We need to split up. They can’t follow us all. We’ll rendezvous in Medicine Hat—but only if you know you’re clear. We can’t risk exposing the safe house.” She listened for a moment, grim-faced, then disconnected the call, and pocketed the phone without another word.

  Sophie saw one SUV continuing down the highway while the third chased them into town—Moose Jaw, according to the sign that whizzed by. They split again at the first light. Their car turned right as the one behind them sped left, tires squealing. For the first time, Sophie saw a car chasing them—a black sedan with dark windows—and she held her breath as it neared the intersection and turned right to follow them.

  “They’re behind us,” Sophie said unnecessarily. She wasn’t surprised. She knew what they were after. Her heart sped up, pounding in her chest as she gripped Isaiah’s hand, both their palms slick with sweat.

  “Sophie?” Isaiah’s voice was small.

  Sophie was vaguely aware of the tingle of her gift. Frost edged the car windows.

  “I see them,” Tyra muttered.

  Another fireball hit wide to their left.

  Warning shots.

  They don’t want to kill us.

  Sophie knew that wouldn’t serve their pursuers’ purpose, but it didn’t slow her racing heart or ease the grip she had on Isaiah.

  Tyra braced her hand against the seat and cursed as the car swerved wildly. She asked Sophie, “Can you—do you think you can do something?”

  “I don’t know. I can try.”

  An
other fireball hit, and the explosion threw the SUV sideways.

  The driver fought against the wheel, tires squealing as it slid across the road on two wheels.

  Oh, g—we’re going to flip.

  “Is someone coming?” Caleb asked.

  Ava’s face had taken on a pale, sickly cast, her eyes glazed as she breathed shallow and fast. “No. Not here,” she said. “Not here.”

  Sophie grabbed Isaiah’s hand with both her own, her gift flaring inside her.

  A gust of wind came at the SUV from the opposite direction and knocked it back onto all four wheels. It skidded into a couple of garbage cans before jolting to a stop at the curb.

  “Everybody out!” Tyra shouted. “Take cover in the alley!” She ushered Sophie and Isaiah out, putting herself between them and the coming threat as they ran for the dark space between two brick buildings.

  People along the street had stopped to stare, and Sophie couldn’t help wondering how the Race or the Council or whoever would go about hiding this from the world.

  Not my problem.

  Not for the moment, at least.

  Their pursuers screeched to a stop behind the SUV, and four men stepped out of the vehicle. They seemed to be in no hurry, walking slow and purposeful toward the alley, like they hadn’t a care in the world. Sophie even saw one of them nod and smile at a gaping child standing astride a bicycle.

  Sophie backed into the alley and yanked Isaiah behind her as she reached for that feeling, that spark she’d accessed back at the training field. The men appeared in the mouth of the alley, and Sophie glanced behind her, looking for a way out. There wasn’t one.

  Tyra and the driver didn’t waste any time. They dropped to a crouch and fired toward the mouth of the alley.

  One of the men grinned in response, cold and terrifying, and nodded to the younger man next to him. He lifted a hand, and a fireball shot toward the Guardian driver.

  He never had a chance.

  The driver fell to the ground, his screams cutting through the air.

  A gunshot—two—and the screams were silenced.

  Sophie shuddered.

  “Sophie,” Ava murmured, a drop of blood bubbling at her nose.

  “Ava?” Caleb wiped it away while panic clawed in his chest. “Sophie’s going to the safe house. She’s fine.”

  Ava’s eyes cleared as she looked into his. “No. She’s not.”

  The temperature dropped and the air turned to icy frost around them. Sophie recognized the tingling electricity of her gift racing along her nerve endings and sparking at her skin.

  Another fireball hurled toward Tyra, who dove to the ground and rolled into the brick wall.

  With a thought, Sophie diverted the fireball with a ball of ice, the combination sizzling in the air and filling it with a cloud of steam, the remnants dripping to the ground.

  Everything seemed to speed up.

  One moment, Tyra was rolling over to get to her feet. The next, she had a knife to her throat, and the pyrokinetic was bouncing another fireball in his palm next to her.

  Two other men—one strawberry-blond, one dark-haired—approached Sophie and Isaiah, slow and easy, both moving with a confidence that had Sophie’s instincts flaring.

  “Stay back,” Sophie warned, another ice ball forming before her. Isaiah trembled behind her, feeding her fear, feeding her gift.

  The blond man stepped forward and tilted his head. His eyes flashed—one blue, one brown—pupils blowing wide as he smiled softly.

  Sophie was barely aware of the ice ball falling to the concrete before her knees gave out and darkness enveloped her.

  “What is it, Ava? You’re scaring me.”

  Ava blinked, the images blurring and fading away. She’d never experienced something like that before—not outside her nightmares. A waking dream. A vision of sorts. And like her dreams, the images melted away, drifting like whispers of smoke through her fingers and leaving behind anxiety and unease in their wake. “I . . . I’m not sure,” she said finally. “But something’s wrong. Something’s happened to Sophie. I’m sure of it.”

  Caleb had his phone out before she’d finished talking. He dialed Gideon and frowned when he got voice mail. “They must still be in the air. I’ll try Tyra.” He waited, watching Ava worriedly as it rang.

  She heard Tyra’s curt voice mail message as well. “What are we going to do?” Ava stood up and wiped at the remaining blood on her lip. “Something’s happened. I know it.”

  Caleb stood as well, pocketed his phone, and pulled her close. “We can’t do anything from here,” he said. “We need to get to New Elysia.”

  “But—”

  “We’ll call every time we stop. Think about it, Ava. We have no idea where they are. We can’t go chasing after them until we have more information. And Andreas Petrov has a sensor. He’ll have a better chance of tracking Sophie down than we will, right?”

  Ava thought back to the man who had helped Tiernan track Caleb. Tiernan had told her he was gifted. He’d actually never heard of a sensor with such strong abilities.

  Ava didn’t like it, but she nodded. “Okay, let’s go.” And as she clung to Caleb, she clenched her eyes shut as they shifted through the miles, thinking only of her promise to Sophie that she’d be safe, that Isaiah would be safe, and she prayed that it hadn’t been a lie.

  Chapter 8

  The helicopter touched down at the base of the mountain, and Gideon searched the steep incline with a frown. “Sure would have been easier if they would have let us land in the city.”

  Tiernan grunted and started up the mountain. “Pretty sure the Council wants to keep your visit under wraps. The head of the Guardians walking into New Elysia? Might draw some attention.”

  Gideon couldn’t hold back a grin. “Yeah. I can imagine.”

  They took their time, and Gideon wondered if the Protector was apprehensive about everything. Or perhaps, like Gideon, he was simply enjoying these last moments of quiet—of peace—a respite from the insanity, if only for a brief time.

  He wondered how Madeleine was handling it all.

  I haven’t seen her since . . .

  He couldn’t remember, actually.

  Too long.

  He felt her, the twinge of her power growing stronger with every step he took up the mountain, settling into his bones and relieving the tension in his shoulders. He tried to ignore it. Tried to focus instead on the dirt and rocks beneath his feet, the sunshine overhead, the cool breeze ruffling his hair.

  “You okay?” Tiernan asked, shooting a quick look over his shoulder.

  The Protector was more perceptive than many suspected, but Gideon didn’t want to talk about his feelings. About Madeleine.

  “Fine.”

  “Any word from Foster?”

  Gideon frowned, irritated that he’d allowed himself to be so distracted, and reached for his phone. “I should check in with him. And the safe houses. Make sure ev—” He stopped mid stride when he saw the number of missed messages from Caleb and cursed under his breath. He didn’t bother listening to the voice mails and was about to dial Caleb directly when the phone vibrated with a call from Tyra. “Everything okay?”

  “Not even close.”

  Gideon’s skin chilled. “What happened?”

  “Attacked by Rogues.” Tyra’s hurried words belied her nerves, even in the face of her military bearing. “They came out of nowhere. A pyro took me out. Davis is . . . he’s dead. We tried to fight, but they had a blank or a stunner . . . I’m not sure. The cryo and her brother—”

  “Sophie?”

  Tyra heaved a heavy sigh. “She’s alive. At least she was the last time I saw her. They knocked me out—knocked us all out—and when I came to, she and the boy were gone.”

  Gideon looked up and could tell from Tiernan’s concentrated frown that he had heard the entire exchange.

  They started up the mountain with a greater sense of urgency.

  “Any idea where they went? Direction? Any
thing?”

  They picked up the pace, half jogging, half running, and their booted steps echoed on the rocks.

  “I don’t know. I don’t—” Tyra let out a groan. “Maybe if we had a tracker, but none of us can pick up a trail of any kind. They might have masked it. I just don’t know.”

  “What about the others?”

  “Everyone else is all right, except Davis.” Her voice caught. “I stayed with him while Adam and the others continued on to the rendezvous point. They should reach the safe house tonight, but there’s something else you should know.”

  Gideon stepped around a large rock. “What is it?”

  “The boy—Isaiah? From what I could gather listening in on their conversation, it looks like he’s a telepath, perhaps a bit of an empath as well.”

  “Which way?”

  “Looks like he can just read, at least for now, but if he’s like Ava, like Emma? Who knows when the block’s completely lifted?”

  Gideon groaned quietly.

  “Exactly,” Tyra replied.

  If Isaiah could plant thoughts and emotions and influence people like Emma? They definitely needed him on their side.

  “Well, we’ll just have to get them back,” he said, voice firm despite his own doubts. “Are you . . . can you handle things there?” It was a lot to ask, he knew, but the local authorities would have to be dealt with, as well as Davis’ remains.

  “I got this,” she said in a low, resigned voice. “But Gideon?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When you figure out where they are? I want in.” Her voice was icy, deadly, and Gideon was reminded why Tyra Resick was his second-in-command. She was tough. She was ruthless. She was capable. And she wouldn’t rest until these Rogues were dealt with.

  “Got it,” Gideon said and hung up.

  The higher they got, the colder the temperature and the bigger the patches of stubborn snow clustered alongside the path interspersed with spring buds and green. They finally rounded a familiar corner and came to a stop at the cloaked gate to New Elysia.