Jameson raised his hand. “I have a question.”
She pointed. “Yes?”
“Are there others like us on this mission? And if so, will we be working with them?”
“Simply put, there are no others like you. You three have been chosen out of hundreds considered,” Dr. Wentworth said, “You’ll be getting your orders and will work on your specifically assigned tasks. Don’t worry about anyone else. Just stay focused on your assignment.” The image on the screen changed. “Moving on,” she said in a way that conveyed she wasn’t going to take kindly to anymore interruptions.
The next twenty minutes were a recap of what we’d learned in Edgewood: that the president was in a coma, that Vice President Montalbo was with the Associates, and that the Associates had a plan that put Layla and President Bernstein at risk. Dr. Wentworth said, “Having President Bernstein back in office is imperative. If Vice President Montalbo takes power, it won’t be long before the Associates seize control of the government. When a government no longer has the interest of the citizens at heart, all of society suffers. We’ve seen this happen historically many times over, the most memorable being the Nazis in Germany.”
I think she repeated all this to make an impression on us, but I’d gotten the picture clearly the first time around and it was always in the back of my mind. Life as we now knew it? Enjoy it, because it might all be flushed away overnight.
After the formal presentation, we were allowed to ask questions. Jameson said, “But even with Montalbo as president, things couldn’t happen that quickly, could they? We have three branches of the federal government, and the Constitution is set up as a system of checks and balances to help ensure that no one branch becomes too powerful, right?”
Dr. Wentworth said, “The Associates have found a way to circumvent the system of checks and balances. You should have gotten a handout during your practice sessions in Edgewood explaining how they plan to do just that if given the opportunity.”
“Ah, yes,” Jameson said. I could tell by the look on his face that he was remembering the sheet he’d crumpled up and thrown away thinking it was the same old, same old. Meanwhile, I’d taken mine home and read it, so I knew exactly what she was talking about. It doesn’t help to be a genius if you don’t follow directions.
Carly raised her hand and said, “I’ve been monitored by the Associates for the last sixteen years, and I assume they’re watching Russ as well. How do you know they aren’t on to us? I mean, if they’re following along at all, they’ll know we’re here and they’ll be able to figure things out…” Her voice trailed off and she gulped. Carly always came off as tough, but now her more vulnerable side was showing. She was afraid for both of us. “I mean, they actually told Russ they’d be in touch with him at the end of summer, which is right about now.”
Dr. Wentworth got up and stepped into the aisle to get closer. Her voice was low, like she was speaking just to Carly. “You and your brother are as safe here as you would be at home. Maybe more so. We are taking every precaution.”
“But every precaution might not be enough,” Carly said.
“And yet it’s the best we can do,” Dr. Wentworth answered, her voice once again businesslike. “I think that should wrap things up. Make sure you get your rest tonight because tomorrow is a big day. Russ will meet the president. With his help we have high hopes for her recovery. And later, the three of you will meet Layla Bernstein. Mallory will convince her that she’s already met you in Miami. We want all of you to spend time together so that you’re close friends by the evening of the Bash.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Russ
That night I had trouble relaxing. In the bed next to me I listened to the sound of Jameson’s breathing until it got slower and heavier. When it did, I knew he’d dropped off to sleep. How he managed it, I don’t know. We’d been slammed with so much information my head was spinning. After the briefing, Carly and I lingered behind the others because she couldn’t let go of her question. “I don’t understand why you aren’t concerned about my being watched by the Associates.” She had one hand on her hip, a challenging pose.
Dr. Wentworth said, “I didn’t want to get into this in front of the group, but I think you should know that we’ve investigated and there’s no evidence that the Associates have been monitoring your activity at all.”
“Well that’s where you’re wrong,” Carly said, “because I find bugs and cameras in my apartment and tracking devices on my car on a regular basis. Also, I’ve had messages on my cell phone played back, and not by me, I might add. This has been happening to me for years.”
Dr. Wentworth sighed. “I can’t tell you why that is. Someone with a grudge? All I know is that it’s not the Associates.”
“It’s not someone with a grudge!” Now Carly was getting mad. “Whoever is doing this is very sophisticated. I’m telling you, it has to be the Associates.”
“But they’d have no reason to monitor you. You don’t have any superpowers or anything else they want,” Dr. Wentworth pointed out. “You’re of no value to them.”
“But I know things,” Carly said. “I mean, even the fact that I know they exist—wouldn’t that make me a person of interest?”
“Not really,” she said.
“But I could go to the media and tell them everything I know about the Associates if I wanted to!”
“With what proof? And who would believe you?”
“But…” Carly’s argument was growing thin, but she didn’t want to let it go. “But what about the teenagers that disappear or die every sixteen years? Isn’t that suspicious?”
Dr. Wentworth looked bored. “Teenagers die. They run away.” She shrugged. “It happens.” She took a deep breath and said, “For the record, I understand where you’re coming from. It must be very upsetting to know that you’re being spied on. I don’t doubt what you’re saying. But I can tell you that it’s not the Associates. You might want to contact your local police and see if they can help. It might be a former love interest or someone who has something out for you. That’s the most likely scenario.”
I read the anguished expression on Carly’s face and felt a surge of guilt because I knew that David Hofstetter had been the one monitoring her apartment. He told me so in Peru. He said it was his way of making sure she was safe and the only way he had of keeping tabs on Frank, his son. A little creepy and stalkerish if you ask me, but the guy had been locked away in a research lab for sixteen years and was apparently a little out of touch with the definition of appropriate social boundaries.
After that Dr. Wentworth said, “As long as you’re here, Russ, I have a few questions I’ve been meaning to ask you about Mallory.”
“What about Mallory?”
“I’d like to ask you about the time Mallory spent with Mr. Specter in Peru when she was under the influence of the device he called a Deleo.”
“Jameson and I answered questions like this back at home,” I said.
“Humor me,” she said. “Just one more time.” She’d taken a tablet out of her briefcase and was typing as we talked. “I believe you said that Mallory left the group and went with Samuel Specter for some testing.”
“Yes, Mallory went first, and then me.”
“But when it was your turn, you were able to mentally fight off the effects of the Deleo?”
I nodded. I could still recall the way the Deleo, a goggle-type device, suctioned itself to my head once Mr. Specter activated it. He’d said it would measure how strong my superpowers were, but I quickly realized it was a brainwashing device and I fought it with everything I had by blocking his suggestions with something more powerful—my feelings for Nadia. I came out of it dazed, but it didn’t take long for me to recover. I was absolutely certain that none of the ideas he’d tried to implant had taken hold.
“And Mallory?” she asked.
The doctor’s steely gaze made me uncomfortable. I said, “I don’t know. She was in a daze when she came out of the room
, but later on she seemed fine. Whatever happened, it wore off, I think.”
“You think?”
I met her stare head on. “As far as I know. I can’t get inside Mallory’s brain. Maybe you need to ask her.”
For a second I thought she was going to do another round of questions, but instead Dr. Wentworth just pursed her lips and said, “Fair enough.”
That night, I was lying in my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all this, when I saw the first glimmer of energy enter the room. Nadia! At least I hoped it was Nadia. I sat up, but didn’t speak aloud. Nadia? Next to me, Jameson snorted and rolled over, turning to face the wall.
Yes, it’s me!
Her astral projecting entrances always reminded me of Glinda arriving in her bubble in The Wizard of Oz. It didn’t look the same, but I got the same feeling as I did when I was a kid watching the movie. Magic. Pure magic. See? I teased Nadia. And you were so worried about not being able to find me. I pointed to Jameson’s sleeping form. You can see that it’s very exciting around here.
Why are we underground? she asked.
There’s a whole city underneath the city. Praetorian Guard headquarters. PGDC. It’s massive and deep.
It was creepy as hell to get here. I sensed I was going into the ground and then I kept going down, down, down. At first I thought someone had buried you alive.
I filled her in on everything that had happened since the last time we talked. When I asked what was new with her, she responded by telling me her mom had gotten worse.
She’s always been controlling and critical, Nadia said. But lately it’s been over the top. She watches me like a hawk and questions everything I do. Today she got mad because she said my face doesn’t look right.
What does that mean?
I don’t know. You can’t have a regular conversation with her, so I don’t even try. My dad thinks she stopped taking her medication.
Nadia’s energy was invisible but having her next to me was as soothing as a rush of warm air on a cold winter’s day. Still, I wished she were really here so I could comfort her in person. I said, Maybe when this is all over, I could come over and talk to her? Or maybe to your dad? I had good luck with him before. Maybe he’d let us see each other as long as it’s at your house.
Maybe, she said, but she didn’t sound convinced.
I do love you, Nadia.
I love you, too, she said. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do this again. If I don’t come back after this, just know that it’s not that I don’t want to—
And then she was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nadia
I was yanked back into my body with a shocking force. When I got my bearings, I realized I was in bed, with my mother on top of me, the force of her knees digging into my hip bones. The overhead light was on, making a halo effect around her head but she looked anything but angelic. She held my arms in a tight grip. From the stinging on my left cheek it was clear she’d just slapped me. “Let go,” I cried, struggling to get free.
The whites of her eyes ringed enlarged pupils. She said, “What have you done? What have you done?” It was a wail, an accusation, a tormented cry. “Tell me now before it’s too late!”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said. “Mom, stop it. You’re scaring me.”
“I will shake the devil out of you,” she said. “I will not rest until you’re free of his grasp.” Her voice was a deep growl I didn’t recognize.
“Dad!” I yelled, hoping he was within earshot. “Help!” I had never seen Mom this way. Her intense stare gave me the chills. I felt her fingernails gouging into the fleshy part of my upper arms. “Dad!”
“Don’t bother,” she said. “He’s not home.”
“Yes, he is,” I said, gesturing with my head. “He’s right in the doorway. Dad!”
She hesitated and let go just for a moment to look, and that’s all it took. I took advantage of the element of surprise and pushed her off of me. She lost her balance and fell off the bed. I shook off the covers, ran past her and flew down the stairs.
“Liar!” she yelled from behind me. “Lying to your own mother. You’re not my daughter. Nadia would never treat me this way.”
I paused at the front door, but when I saw she’d locked the deadbolt with a key, I gave up without even trying. The odds were good that she’d secured the whole house like that. The only chance I had was to reach my father. I had no idea where he’d be at this time of night, but he wouldn’t have gone far. I ran to the kitchen to use the landline. It was an old-fashioned phone attached to the wall above the counter. A curly cord kept it tethered to the base. The phone was there when we’d moved into the house and my mother saw no reason to update it as long as it still worked. I punched in the number for my dad’s cell phone and listened as it rang. Come on, come on. Pick up the phone, Dad. I pictured him in line at the grocery store or in the car. If that was the case, it was going right to voice mail. He was old school concerning phone etiquette. He’d never answer the phone when he was driving or if he were talking to a cashier. One was unsafe, the other was rude. I heard my mother clumping down the stairs, her breathing heavy. Right now she didn’t even sound like Mom.
The call went to voice mail. Oh no. I clutched the phone and waited for the beep. I spoke frantically. “Dad, it’s me Nadia. I’m at home and…” Stupid. Of course I was home. I was never not home. “Something’s wrong with Mom. She’s acting crazy and I need you here right now. Please…”
She rounded the corner and came at me with both hands, pushing me against the wall. I lost my hold on the phone and it dropped, dangling from the cord. “Leave my daughter now!” she shouted.
“Mom, it’s me, Nadia.” I tried to talk sense to her but there was no reasoning with someone who had no reason.
“You’re not fooling me,” she said with a sneer. “I knew as soon as I came into the room that you went into my daughter’s body. I saw the change with my own eyes. Believe me, I will cast you out!” She put her hands around my neck and squeezed. I reached up and tried to pull her hands away, but she was incredibly strong. I slapped at her head and kicked with one leg, but it only made her madder and she increased the pressure on my windpipe. Her eyes narrowed. She yelled, “Out I say!”
The sound of the garage door opening didn’t distract her, but I got a rush of hope. Hurry Dad, hurry. I croaked the word “help” but it was barely audible. When the door opened and I saw Dad walk in carrying a paper grocery bag, I was on the verge of passing out. I slammed my fist against the wall to get his attention and it worked.
“What’s going on here?” He set the bag down on the counter and rushed over.
“Out I say!” she said, as if he wasn’t even there.
Dad grabbed her arms and pulled her away from me. I staggered back and gasped, pulling in deep gulps of air. She faced him. “Leave me alone!” Again, her voice was deep and angry. And she thought I was possessed. “I need to do this. I need to get Nadia back.”
“Nadia, are you okay?” he asked. I nodded and he looked relieved. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left.” Suddenly he looked old and tired to me. “I thought a quick trip to Pick ‘n Save would be okay.” Dad held Mom’s arm while she struggled to get to me. “Honey,” he said to her. “I can help you. Let me get your medication. You’ve had a rough time of it lately.”
“No,” she roared. “I will not be silenced.” She broke free of his grasp and ran to the other side of the island counter, opened the drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. “You’re with them,” she said, pointing the tip of the blade in his direction. “I should have known.”
“Put the knife back,” he said in a careful, measured manner. “I will help you, I promise. Just put down the knife. You know I love you.”
This is how it happens, I thought, breathing heavily. Every time you read about a violent domestic death in the news it starts like this: family members living in the same house, going along with their lives day to da
y, never knowing that one day one of them will become unhinged and take things a little too far. I saw how easily my family could become one of those families. When she’d had her fingers around my neck, her thumbs digging into my windpipe, I’d felt my airway close and my life slipping away. And now she held the knife like she meant business. If she succeeded, we would be one more family on the police blotter, one more article in the news. And everyone who read it would wonder how in the world could this happen? Why would a mother murder her daughter or her husband? But honestly? It’s not as complex as you’d think. A knife, some rage, a moment of insanity, and it’s all over.
I picked up the phone and pressed the button to hang up, then dialed 911. At the same time, my dad moved cautiously toward her. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “You know I love you. You know Nadia loves you. We only want to help.”
Her eyes darted back and forth from him to me and back again. I could sense the distrust from several feet away. She was certain we were both against her.
“911, what’s your emergency?” The operator sounded so calm.
“My mother is completely out of control,” I said, my voice coming out raspy. “She tried to choke me and now she’s got a butcher knife.”
“Nadia,” my father said, giving me a sideways glance. “We don’t need to get the police involved. Tell them it’s okay and hang up the phone.”
“Who else is there with you?” From the way the operator spoke you’d have thought we had all the time in the world.
“My father is here,” I said.
Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 66