The Unseen Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  I put out a hand to steady myself, but I wasn’t close to a chair or anything to grab onto, and I ended up sort of flouncing to the floor.

  “Bet you wish you’d taken the chair now,” O said. He met my glare with a smile.

  Here I was, in a room full of people just like me. All this time, I had thought I was alone. A freak. But now I knew there were others who shared my ability.

  Picking up on my thoughts, O bristled. “You are not a freak. None of us are.”

  “Stop.” I put my head down on my knees and covered my ears, like that would keep my thoughts from escaping. “I can’t think with all of you in my head.” With each word, my voice raised another decibel.

  “Okay, you’re right. This is a lot to handle. Let’s start over.” He stuck out his hand. “Hi. My name is Owen, but everyone calls me O. I’ll take you downstairs to meet the boss. He’s the one with the authority to give you some answers. On our way, maybe you’d like to see the joint?”

  I eyed him, completely unsure of what to do. I felt caught between two worlds, the one where I had direction and purpose, but no sense of belonging, and this new and scary one. I took a deep breath. You came here to find out who this guy was. Now you know. And it’s more than—

  “I’m gonna stop you right there. Let’s leave a few things to the imagination, shall we?”

  A crushing thought occurred to me. He’s heard everything. All my stupid, girlish thoughts. My stomach rolled at the thought.

  He chuckled. “You’re not the first girl to fall for my devastatingly good looks.”

  “Your arrogance takes off a few points,” I said aloud.

  He laughed. It was a deep, rolling sound, but there was obvious joy in it too. He was someone who took great pleasure in laughing. “Indeed. Should we take that tour?”

  “Why not?” I said, liking him a little more in spite of myself.

  “Great.” He didn’t waste any time. “Well, this is the sitting room. It’s where we all sort of gather to relax or watch movies and TV.”

  I nodded to a few people who were smiling encouragingly at me as we walked to a set of double doors across the room.

  “Through here is the kitchen.”

  It was huge and state of the art. Stainless steel covered every appliance, the countertops were granite, dark wood cabinets lined three of the walls, and an island divided the food prep area from the eating area. Two long tables with seating for about twenty helped me envision fun, noisy meals here. After spending so many meals alone, even when I was a kid, it was hard to imagine myself at the table.

  “Yeah, it can get loud if we all eat at the same time. But it’s rare for every seat to be full, if that helps.”

  I nodded, and he led me through a second set of double doors at the back of the kitchen. This room was smaller and narrower than the previous two. All four walls were lined with books. A small table with a lamp was at its center, and there were plush chairs scattered around.

  “This is our library, obviously. There are a few here who like to read, and a few others who like to study and try to learn more about the science behind mind reading, things like that.”

  “Science behind mind reading? I thought the general belief was that mind reading is science fiction, not science,” I said as I gazed up at the floor-to-ceiling shelves. There was everything from Dante’s Inferno to What Every Body is Saying by some guy I’d never heard of. I had to stop myself from reaching for that title, wondering how much truth there was in it.

  “That one’s good. I wonder if he actually is a mind reader, to be able to read so much into body language and what people are communicating without actually saying.”

  I nodded, making a mental note to buy the book.

  “You could just read it here.”

  I looked at him blankly. He expected me to come back, like over and over again. At least enough times to read a book.

  “Right. Let’s move on.” He led me through another set of doors that opened to a room just as narrow as the library, but a little longer.

  “This is our game room. Mostly the guys hang out in here, but we have one or two gamer girls who like to join us.”

  They had everything—Ping-Pong, pool, and at the end of the room, a huge television with several of the latest gaming systems connected to it.

  I whistled. “Man. You guys don’t spare any expense here, do you? How do you afford all this?”

  “Our benefactor is very generous.” He held the next set of double doors open for me, which led us back to the sitting room. We’d made a giant square, as far as I could tell.

  “Whatever that means.”

  Mitchell made eye contact with Owen from across the room, nodded, and got up to leave.

  “What’s his deal?” I asked, wanting to know more about my rescuer.

  Owen didn’t answer right away. I wasn’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t want to betray his friend’s confidence, or if he truly didn’t know. “Mitchell is complicated. His journey to the Unseen left him a bit broken. Someday, he might share his story with you. But it should come from him, not me or anyone else.”

  “You two must be close if you’re privy to that information.”

  “Well, we’re all friends, but yes, I suppose Mitchell and I are closer. He and I joined the Unseen around the same time a while ago. He’s the closest thing to a brother I have left.” We started walking back to the stairwell.

  "He joined the Unseen before I did, but only by a few weeks. My road here was… rocky to say the least. Mitchell took me in, showed me the ropes, and really helped me feel at home. And it had been a long time since I’d felt that way anywhere.” He looked wistfully in the direction his friend went, and I wondered just how deep his ties to the Unseen were.

  I waited for him to elaborate, but he moved on. “At any rate, lucky for me, it turned out Mitchell is a pretty cool guy once he lets you get to know him. Just give him a chance.”

  I nodded, knowing I wouldn’t get any more information on the subject, and I’d gotten what I wanted initially anyway, so I changed the subject a little. “Where are we going now?”

  “To finish the tour.” I followed his gesture and realized the stairwell didn’t end at this floor, like I’d assumed it did. He led me down another flight. This one too was protected by a huge, metal door, but it had a keypad lock. Once he’d punched in the code, the heavy door creaked open and dumped us into a hallway.

  “These are the dorms.” He walked to the third doorway. “This one is mine”

  He pushed inside, revealing a relatively large room with a double bed against two walls, a dresser next to the bed, and a small television on the back wall.

  “You live here?” I surveyed the room. It was every bit as nice as my own room, except it didn’t have any windows. They’d added plants and other natural textures to make it feel less confining, despite the lack of natural light.

  “Yup.” He paused, possibly debating his next words. “You could too, if you wanted.”

  “I could…” I paused. “Wait, what?” I could live there. This could be a good option if I don’t find a job before the end of the summer. My heart began to race.

  “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. There’s a lot to consider before you decide whether you want to move in.”

  “What do you mean?” A catch. I knew it.

  “Not so much a catch as a commitment.”

  “Commitment?” What kind of commitment? Who exactly were these people? Is this a creepy cult or something?

  He laughed. “No. We’re not a cult. Let’s finish the tour, and maybe that will help answer some of your questions.”

  We walked back to the stairwell. “All the dorms are the same as far as furnishings go. But we decorate them however we want.”

  “Does everyone have their own room?”

  “Yup.”

  “What about the fact that there aren’t any windows? How would you get out in a fire? Aren’t there laws against that?”
/>   “I’m sure there are. Those who choose to live here accept the risks.”

  He didn’t elaborate. Risks? I didn’t care much for that word… or the fact that he’d used the plural form of it.

  The next floor was guarded a little more heavily. Owen stood in front of an eye scanner, then when the light turned green, placed his thumb on a pad next to the door and it creaked open, just as the one above did.

  The floor was organized into smaller rooms resembling offices. There were windows on all the doors, making it feel more open and inviting. Most of the rooms were empty, but there were a few people sitting at tables flipping through paperwork, working on computers, or listening to laptops or iPads with headphones.

  “This is what we call the work floor. It’s where the magic happens when we’re not out on assignment.”

  “Out on assignment? What kind of work do you do?” Maybe I could work with these people, I thought. But what would they want with a music therapist?

  He laughed. “We do mostly confidential stuff,” he said. His debonair smile didn’t do anything to quell my curiosity, but I decided to keep quiet for now. “As for our current openings, you can ask the boss when you see him. We always have room for more readers, though.”

  We came to the bottom floor, and he pushed open the door. It was a gym filled with an extensive array of equipment. Punching bags hung from the ceiling, machines and free weights lined the walls, and the open space off to one side was…

  “That’s for hand-to-hand training,” Owen filled in for me.

  “Hand-to-hand training? Like fighting?”

  “A bit more elegant than that, but I suppose.”

  “So, karate?”

  “Not quite that elegant.”

  “I see,” I said, even though I didn’t see at all. Who on Earth were these people?

  He led me toward three sets of doors along the back wall. “The first two rooms are for individual training.”

  “Individual training, like what?” I peeked through the tall, skinny window in one of the doors. The room was small, with two chairs, a white board, and a television. It reminded me of a practice room at FSU, without the piano.

  “Oh, like learning to guard your mind.”

  I had never dreamed of doing something like that; until now, there had been no need. “Is that something I could learn to do?”

  “Absolutely. You’ll learn that and more if you join us.” He smiled slyly at me. “That way, we can all get a little peace.”

  I shoved him, and he laughed that beautiful laugh of his. When he stopped, I wanted to say something funny just to hear it again.

  He cleared his throat, and I realized he’d probably picked up on my thoughts. If he did, he was kind enough not to draw too much attention to it. “And here we are at the end of our tour.” We stood in front of the last door in the back corner of the gym. It looked just like the other doors, so I assumed it led to another training room.

  “This is the boss’ office. Normally, he doesn’t see people on their first day, since not everyone decides to stay. But he asked to see you.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Who knows? Maybe he could hear your incessant and scattered questions and wanted to silence them.”

  “Silence them like how? Kill me and stuff me in some creepy drawer four floors underground?”

  He laughed. “I think you watch too many serial killer movies. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re safe here.”

  I spied some of the heavy equipment on the other side of the room and raised my eyebrow skeptically.

  “You are. Anyway, he knows you’re here and he’s waiting to see you.”

  I hesitated, knowing Maddie would not approve of any of this. In fact, she was probably going nuts since I’d ignored her texts for the last hour or two. I glanced at my watch. It was already 2:30, so she was probably most of the way home by now.

  “He will only take as much time as you want to give him.”

  “You make it sound like it’s his privilege to see me, not the other way around.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll be waiting out here to take you topside when you’re done.”

  Something puzzled me. “Why are you the one guiding me through this?”

  “You better go in,” he said, ignoring the question.

  “There may come a time when you won’t have an unfair advantage over me. Then what will you do?”

  His eyes danced with merriment. “Enjoy the challenge.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, and turned to go into the boss’ office.

  I raised my hand to knock on the door, but he called out, “Come in,” before I could make contact.

  “Hello Mackenzie. I’ve been waiting a long time for you.” He sat behind a cherry wood executive-style desk with bookshelves behind him filled with books on every possible subject, everything from All the King’s Men to something called The 33 Strategies of War.

  He let me linger a bit, allowing me to take in the room and my surroundings before gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

  After easing myself into the surprisingly comfortable chair, I looked him over. He looked middle aged, and was by far the oldest person I’d seen in the place, with salt-and-pepper hair, glasses, and a huge mustache that hung down over his top lip. I wondered how he kept it clean, but of course, I didn’t ask. Instead, I said, “So, how come you’ve been waiting so long for me?” After what Owen had told me, I had the impression I was special in some way, but I couldn’t put my finger on how.

  He chuckled. “I try not to eat anything terribly messy, but it generally cleans up pretty well. Don’t hesitate to tell me if something is caught in it though. Wouldn’t want to look foolish.” I laughed, and he continued before I could comment. “You are special, but you need to discover the reason for yourself.”

  “Is that the name of the game here? Aloof answers to direct questions?”

  “Depends on the question, I suppose. What else do you want to know?”

  “Got any job openings for a music therapist?”

  He smiled. “No, but I do have an opening for you if you’re interested.”

  “What are the pay and benefits like?”

  “Excellent.”

  I eyed him, feeling like I was missing something important. “A short answer.”

  “I can go into details once you agree to work here.”

  That seemed fair to me. Not all employers would be free with information, particularly where it came to confidentiality of patients, duties, and possibly methods.

  “And what exactly would my job responsibilities be?”

  He sat back in his chair. “Each assignment is different and all are highly confidential.”

  “Okay, well, give me a for instance. I’m having trouble picturing what mind readers do for a living.”

  “We read minds, Mackenzie.”

  I frowned, getting frustrated, but before I could ask another question, he held up his hands. “Fine. For example, in the beginning, you might be asked to provide background information on a mark for an assignment. As you advance with us, your tasks will involve more and more reading.”

  “Background information? So you target certain people for readings? To what end?”

  “To all different ends. It depends on the assignment.”

  “Also, I’m not a researcher. I’m a music therapist. How do you know I would be any good at this job?”

  “Let’s just call it a gut feeling.”

  His evasive answers were making me uneasy. Clearly picking up on my thoughts, he said, “Listen, as with any job, I’ll be able to provide you with more details once you commit. The work is classified, so for now, this is all I can give you.” He looked like he meant it—that he’d like to give me more information but couldn’t—so I decided to let it go for now.

  “Fine, but I have one question that has nothing to do with me working here. It’s pretty clear that Owen and Mitchell followed me. Why?”
>
  He frowned. “I hope you don’t see that as a breach of privacy. Mitchell wasn’t following you initially. He stumbled upon you in your time of need, and then he reported to me that he’d found a reader who had no idea other readers existed. He felt your need to belong, all your questions about who and what you were. So I sent Owen to confirm his suspicions. When he did, I gave him the go ahead to make contact.”

  Finally, a straight and truthful answer, from what I could tell. It gave me the confidence to go back to asking him questions about my potential future with the Unseen. “Owen said I could live here if I wanted, and he implied it would be rent free. But he also said it would require a commitment of sorts. What exactly does that mean? Is room and board one of the benefits?”

  “Owen is right, our members live on site, and I suppose it is part of the benefits package. If you want to be one of us, you must live here, and make a full-time commitment to honing your gift.”

  “My…” I hesitated. “Gift?”

  “That’s right.”

  I’d never thought of it that way. It had always been more of a curse—a burden, at best.

  The boss frowned. “I am sorry you’ve been alone for this long. Normally, we would have tried to approach you sooner. Circumstances kept us apart. But I do hope you’ll consider staying. Just imagine your potential, Mackenzie, how different your life could be if you knew how to control your gift.”

  Control it, I thought, tempted by the possibility. I shook my head, struggling to bring rational thought back to the forefront. “Although I’m excited about this new opportunity, I just graduated from grad school, and I have a lot of applications out there. I’ve spent the last six years pointing myself down the road I’m on. I’m not sure I want to change direction so suddenly.”

  “Music therapy is important to you, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s been my dream ever since I found out about it. I need to help people. I need to be surrounded by music.” I paused, trying to picture myself living there. “Come to think of it, there’s nowhere really for me to play, if I did move in here.”

  “We would find a way to accommodate your recreational playing. But if you decide to work here, it would mean giving up a career in music therapy.”