Book One

by K. C. Archer

  This morning she would tackle a grueling four-hour written exam testing her knowledge of police procedure, courts and the prosecution process, forensics, and evidence analysis. But the true test of their ability would come later: a rigorous, hands-on tactical course meant to challenge their physical and psychic skills.

  Fittingly, the exam was scheduled on the school’s last day before winter break. Those who passed the exam would pack a bag, enjoy the holidays, and then return to Whitfield after New Year’s Day rested, refreshed, and ready to begin the second semester. Those who didn’t would clear out their dorm room and go home for good. Teddy refused to even consider that option—especially now that she knew Clint could have a link to her past. A past that he’d been keeping from her.

  She showered, tossed on her leather jacket, and walked toward the dining hall. She pictured herself successfully running the course. Overcoming obstacles. Returning fire. Apprehending and interrogating a suspect. She captured every image in her mind.

  She could do this. She could absolutely do this.

  She had to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  FOUR MONTHS OF CONSTANT WORK, of staying on the straight and narrow and keeping her nose as clean as possible, all came down to one more exam. The first-year recruits had finished a morning of grueling written tests; the practical test was next.

  The students, dressed in their black-and-blue athletic uniforms, were ushered into a boat and then into a van as they traveled to an undisclosed location. Teddy’s brain had melted from the seemingly unending list of multiple-choice and essay questions about forensic procedure and the pineal gland, and the drive gave her time to collect her thoughts. She kept her face pressed against the window. Eventually, the streets of San Francisco gave way to the hills of Northern California, and the van turned in to a military facility. Sign after sign warned visitors to keep out, but the van barreled forward. Teddy tried to replay the major lessons she’d learned this semester: Dunn’s breathing techniques, Boyd’s torturous workouts, Clint’s empathy lectures. Clint: she couldn’t think about him without her mind spiraling out to other questions, about her parents, Sector Three, and the past he had kept from her. Her thoughts were jarred as the van hit a pothole, rocking the car. Next to her, Dara swore.

  They drove past a razor-wire fence, through an electronic gate, and into a compound of enormous metal warehouses. The car stopped in a circular drive where Clint, Dunn, and Boyd stood waiting. The first-year recruits exited the vehicle and gathered around their professors. Teddy shifted her weight between her feet, anxious about the next part of the exam.

  The fog still sat low on the horizon, obscuring the skyline. It seemed like they were in another world, an alternate universe of metal warehouses and clouds. “Welcome, recruits,” Clint said. It was cold. He wore a cap pulled down over his ears. Teddy couldn’t help thinking of the hat as a kind of costume that made him look more serious, more official—something that he really wasn’t. She stood her ground, preparing for what was coming next.

  Teddy watched as a SWAT officer signaled to Clint, who pulled the cap off his head and put a handful of folded papers inside. Without looking, Professor Dunn reached inside the cap and withdrew a name. “Zac Rogers.”

  Boyd reached in and withdrew the next. “Dara Jones.”

  “Team One,” Clint announced.

  Zac and Dara stared at each other, appalled.

  The instructors continued, randomly pulling names to create teams. Jillian Blustein and Henry Cummings. Lucas Costa and Ava Lareau. Theodora Cannon and Kate Atkins.

  Anyone but Kate, Teddy thought. Why couldn’t she once—just once—catch a break? Teddy glanced across the group at Kate, whose lips tightened into a grim line as she returned Teddy’s nod. At least Kate seemed as determined to succeed as Teddy.

  Teddy watched as Ben Tucker and Liz Cook were paired up, which left Molly Quinn and Jeremy Lee. Lucky breaks for them.

  Boyd explained that they were about to enter an obstacle course like ones used by local police departments, SWAT forces, FBI, CIA, and the military as a training ground designed to test and perfect combat techniques. Whitfield recruits were expected to meet the physical challenges of the course and go one step further, using the lessons from Dunn’s and Clint’s classes to complete tasks. One team member would run the obstacles while the other remained outside the facility, telepathically sending the instructions required to complete the course. In addition, special “enemy combatants” would be situated throughout the course. Teddy had heard that these were special-ops marines whose job it was to take down as many recruits as possible. The fact that there was no live ammo was little consolation. Teddy could only guess what else awaited them inside that warehouse—they were told to trust no one but their teammate.

  Clint passed a radar gun and a padded radar-sensitive vest to each team. On the back of each vest was a brightly colored triangle. Teddy and Kate were the red team.

  “There are four checkpoints. At each, you’ll find a color-coded card that corresponds to your vest. Collect all four cards, as well as a color-coded key, which will unlock the exit door. If you don’t, you fail. If your vest lights up, you’ve received a fatal hit, and you fail. If you shoot a fellow recruit, you fail. You have one hour to complete the course. If you don’t make it through in the allotted time, you fail. Is that clear?”

  Teddy thought, A lot of ways to fail.

  “I’ll stay on the outside,” Kate said. “I’m better at projecting telepathic messages than receiving them. And we don’t want to risk you going all astral on me in there.”

  Teddy hesitated. She knew Kate was right. Her astral powers were unpredictable. Still, Teddy wasn’t great at taking direction, psychic or otherwise.

  “Of course, I’m also better at running obstacles,” Kate said.

  “How good are you at keeping your mouth shut?” Teddy asked. “I’m going in.” She shrugged on the vest, grabbed two pairs of handcuffs and a wooden baton that had been given to each group, hooked in to the straps, and holstered the radar gun.

  Kate gave the belt on Teddy’s vest an extra tug.

  “Too tight,” Teddy objected.

  “Can you breathe?”

  “I guess.”

  “Then it’s not too tight. You don’t want the vest bumping around while you run. It’ll throw off your balance.” Kate fastened the last buckle and stepped back. “Listen. I talked to a friend of mine who’s an upperclassman. She said you’ll find a couple of prehistoric assholes in there who consider the course a private boys’ club. They go harder on the women than they do on the guys, so watch out for them.”

  Teddy nodded.

  Dunn moved among the teams, distributing sealed envelopes containing maps and clues to be psychically transmitted.

  Beside her, Kate swatted the envelope against her palm. “Hey, Cannon. We got this. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So if anyone tries to hold you back in there, you have my permission to take them out.”

  For the first time in hours, Teddy smiled. “Where? The Cantina? Or just for a grain bowl at Harris?”

  Kate scowled. “Channel?”

  Teddy dimmed the energy she was diverting to her wall, now second nature.

  “How about lucky number seven?” Kate said. She took Teddy’s hands in her own. They started to breathe together, trying to sync their connection. Kate’s mind was nothing like Molly’s. It was easy to find Kate’s rhythm: steady, regular, strong, constant like a metronome. Teddy pictured the now familiar walkie-talkie, turning the channel to seven, hearing first static, then Kate’s voice.

  I’m in, Kate said.

  I know, Teddy said. I’m not an idiot.

  Prove it.

  A starter pistol split the air.

  Teddy took a deep breath and jogged through the entrance of the first of three warehouses, labeled with a huge letter A. Inside, it was darker than she’d thought. She had to squint to make out her first obstacle.
A couple more steps and it came into her line of vision. One hundred feet ahead was a vertical wooden wall with a knotted rope. She’d have to climb that before she got a glimpse of what else awaited her. But she could do that. As a matter of fact, after half a year at Whitfield, she was goddamn good at rope climbing.

  She hurled herself upward and grabbed the rope. But it came loose, and Teddy pitched backward, grunting as she landed flat on her back. Her breath whooshed from her lungs and she fought to catch it.

  The rope hadn’t been attached to anything, and Teddy hadn’t bothered to check it, as she’d been trained to do. Nearby, someone cursed. At least she hadn’t been the only one to fall for it.

  I thought you said you weren’t an idiot, Kate telegraphed.

  Teddy rolled over, got to her feet. She examined the wall, noting for the first time its notched grooves and discrete wooden footholds. She scaled to the top to survey the other side.

  An obstacle course. But this one was far more elaborate than anything she’d ever run in Boyd’s gym—from the top of the wall, she could see that they’d set up what looked like a small town inside the warehouse, ramshackle structures created twisting alleyways. People milled about the course, some dressed as civilians, others outfitted in combat uniforms. It looked like a two-bit dystopian movie set. One of Boyd’s “real-world scenarios.” Teddy’s gut churned.

  First checkpoint—flagpole.

  Got it, Teddy said.

  She spotted the flagpole at her three o’clock, just east of a pile of tires. For a second, she wondered about that obstacle but then remembered her task. She scanned the area again, plotted a path as she climbed down the wall. She lurched forward, shoving through a stack of wooden crates. Teddy reached the flagpole only to find coils of wire wrapped around the base, extending six feet into the air.

  How the hell am I supposed to climb this? Teddy didn’t realize she had telegraphed the thought until she heard Kate’s response.

  What? Talk to me, Kate said.

  It’s wrapped in wire.

  Don’t climb it. Climb something else.

  Teddy saw a metal Dumpster a few feet to her left. She felt she ought to thank Boyd for all the fun and games, for she easily hoisted herself onto the lid. She planted her feet, bent her knees, and hoisted herself onto the pole just above the razor wire. Putting one hand over the other, she propelled herself to the top and reached for her first red card, stamped with Checkpoint #1.

  One down, she said to Kate.

  Teddy tucked the card into her vest pocket and skimmed down the pole, launching herself back onto the Dumpster. If only she had known how to do this in Vegas. Teddy smiled. That would have given Sergei a run for his money. Or rather, a climb for his money.

  Behind schedule, Kate said. Hurry up.

  She thought she’d been moving fast. Got it. Next?

  Second checkpoint. Bravo warehouse, back office.

  Teddy retraced her steps, exiting the first warehouse, which was probably A, Alpha, and entering the second, Bravo. Unlike Alpha warehouse, where the lights were dim, Bravo was pure chaos. Flashing strobes, smoke, alarms. Another one of Boyd’s tactical drills meant to distract recruits and challenge their focus. Teddy took a deep breath. She had to find a back office in this mess?

  Teddy raised her head and surveyed the ground. In between flashing lights, she saw a door above a catwalk on the southwest corner of the warehouse. When the next alarm went off, sending another surge of smoke through the space, Teddy sprinted toward the structure, raced up the steps, and threw open the door. The high-pitched buzz of radar guns sounded all around her. Crap. She’d forgotten to check for potential threats before she’d entered.

  Teddy froze. From the corner of her vision, she spotted Zac crouched in the corner. His gun was trained on her.

  She raised her hands in surrender, and he nodded at her. If he shot her, they’d both be out.

  “Hell of an entrance, Cannon,” Zac said.

  What’s happening? Kate said in her head.

  Zac.

  Trust him.

  Teddy wasn’t so sure. She held her finger to her lips, withdrew her weapon, and peered out the window, assessing the situation. Three enemy combatants were stationed atop the metal catwalk that ran along the right side of the building. Even if Teddy and Zac found their cards, they’d never make it out.

  “Let’s take them out first,” Zac said. He lined up his shot, preparing to fire at the first man on the catwalk. The enemy had higher ground, but the lack of cover left them vulnerable to attack. The proper response was to open fire, get the enemy to abandon his position, then claim the warehouse.

  But that would take time. Time that Teddy didn’t have.

  “Cover me,” she whispered. “Kate said I could trust you.”

  “Are you crazy?” Zac said. “You’ll never—”

  She jumped out from her hiding spot, gun blazing, like the hero at the end of a Western movie. Zac opened fire. Teddy whirled around to see that two of the enemies were down, but the third one had his radar gun aimed at Zac. For a second, Teddy thought about letting the combatant take Zac out, until she remembered that he was paired with Dara. Teddy got off a quick shot, and the combatant’s vest lit up like a Vegas slot machine. Zac gave her a thumbs-up, but there was no time to respond. Teddy ran back into the open office and began to look for her card. She rummaged through the paperwork, swept her arm over the files on the desk, and found her red card buried underneath.

  Number two complete.

  Kate responded: Don’t gloat. Fourth checkpoint. Exit through front of Bravo warehouse. Apprehend suspect. Female. Caucasian. Flannel shirt. Red cap.

  But that wasn’t right. Kate had missed the third checkpoint.

  Third checkpoint Third, Teddy said.

  Fourth checkpoint’s in the next warehouse. Third checkpoint’s in motion.

  Fine. What’s the fourth checkpoint? Teddy said.

  Exit through front of Bravo warehouse. Apprehend suspect. Female. Caucasian. Flannel shirt. Red cap—

  I have a clear path out the back exit. On the move.

  You’re supposed to be listening to my directions, Cannon! Front exit.

  Kate didn’t know what she was talking about; she wasn’t on the course. If Teddy had a clear exit, she was taking it. She was tired of following Kate’s orders. That was when Teddy’s anger got the better of her. The change in her mental state altered the pitch of her brainwaves, which in turn severed the telepathic connection: Kate was gone. She’d lost her. Teddy closed her eyes and tried to reach Kate again, but over this distance, it would be nearly impossible.

  How had she come this far and blown it? Teddy took one more breath. And then another, trying to remember Dunn’s exercises. She’d fall apart later. Right now she had a suspect to apprehend. They still had time. She’d get that done and then reconnect with Kate. She had to keep moving.

  She shot out of the office and stopped, then remembered the message she’d received from Kate: Exit through front of Bravo warehouse.

  It didn’t make sense. She could see a clear path through the back exit, all the way to the next warehouse. Kate was wrong. She’d missed a checkpoint, screwed everything up somehow. Was she trying to sabotage Teddy?

  That had been the only time Kate had given explicit directions since the beginning of the course. Kate had told her to listen to Zac. And he’d helped her. Teddy had to trust her teammate. Even though she didn’t understand why, she turned around to exit through the front.

  Teddy flew down the steps and was immediately hit by a flying tackle. She hit the pavement hard, with what felt like a bag of bricks falling on top of her. For a moment, she was so dazed she couldn’t move. The man caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, squeezing hard.

  It took another moment for the months of Boyd’s self-defense training to kick in. Teddy let her eyelids flutter shut and her body go limp. The man’s grip loosened, and Teddy instantly twisted her wrists to break free. She slammed her for
earm into her assailant’s throat.

  Teddy shot to her feet. So did he. Her mind racing, she considered her options. He wasn’t wearing a radar vest, so her gun was useless. She guessed this was meant to be a test of hand-to-hand combat skills. But how far were they supposed to take it? Teddy heard Boyd’s voice in her head: Your enemy doesn’t care how hard you try.

  She thought about employing her baton, but it was no longer attached to her vest. She must have lost it somewhere on the course. Teddy hoped this guy wasn’t one of the assholes Kate had warned her about. Maybe they were just supposed to spar a little bit, and then he’d let her go.

  Then again, maybe not. Lowering his head, he charged, lifting Teddy off her feet and slamming her against the warehouse wall.

  Her entire body throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to her desire to take him out—not for a grain bowl, but for a knuckle sandwich. Grabbing him by the ears, she snapped his head forward while bringing up her knee and driving it between his thighs. She was from Vegas. She could play dirty, too.

  The agent collapsed onto his side, moaning. Teddy snapped a pair of cuffs on him and stood. She brushed her hair out of her eyes. That’s when she saw a flash of red in his back pocket. Bingo. Checkpoint number three. So that was why Kate had wanted Teddy to exit through the front of the warehouse; she must have been hoping Teddy would encounter the third checkpoint on the way to the fourth. Teddy swallowed. Her first instinct had been to doubt her partner—if only Kate had been more specific, Teddy would have listened. Then again, she had to admit, it cut both ways: if Teddy had trusted Kate, they’d still be connected, and she wouldn’t be going through the course alone.

  Teddy tucked the third card in her vest and went after the fourth. Her perp in flannel knelt on the ground outside Charlie warehouse. She held a radar gun at her side. Teddy tried to remember Kate’s exact words: Apprehend suspect. Female. Caucasian. Flannel shirt. Red cap.