Gypsy (The Cavy Files Book 1)

by Trisha Leigh

  “We’re evolving, passing up their countermoves,” Geoff muses. “But I still don’t think we should count on it. It’s too patchy.”

  “I say we make a plan that utilizes our mutations to the best of our advantage, but make sure that at least some of us stay out of range in case we need backup.”

  We agree with Haint and set to work, pulling up a map of Concord Street on her iPad. There’s no street view, which is frustrating, and there’s not much but a series of warehouses and a giant parking lot. The Port Authority has a few offices and checkpoints in the area, but they’re a little farther down the block.

  “I think we should stick together as much as possible,” I say, glancing around for approval. “If Haint or Goose go alone again and get caught because they can’t perform, we’re just going to end up with two or three people to rescue instead of one.”

  “Agreed.” Mole flashes a smile my direction, one devoid of all the stress and conflict of the previous few weeks, and it makes my heart grow three sizes. “The trick will be to stay far enough away to be able to use our abilities, but close enough to be able to step in.”

  There’s a cohesion to our group that has only been present in fits and starts since we left Darley. It’s warm and comfortable, familiar and safe. Even though we’re about to walk into the unknown, perhaps ending up captured and used, at least we’re together.

  “It’s still best if I try to stay invisible,” Haint argues. “And if Goose can, it makes sense for him to speed around and locate Flicker.”

  “Right,” Geoff agrees. “But what if he finds her and she’s locked up, and we need Pollyanna to try convincing a guard to give up the keys or something?”

  “We have Athena. He and Goose’s connection is strong and that shouldn’t be affected.” Mole seems confident that our ability to use our gifts on one another won’t be blocked.

  “If Haint’s going to be invisible and Goose is going to try to sneak inside, the rest of us should create a diversion.” My mind whirrs and ticks, leaps ahead. “Geoff can throw stuff around, Mole can blow up a few crates or something. If guards show up, Pollyanna should be able to influence them in some interesting ways.”

  It makes sense that their agents, the ones they know are dealing with us, will be prepped with whatever nullifies our abilities, but I wouldn’t think regular security would need to be. Outside the building, our chances for using them are much better.

  “What about you?” Mole watches me, and there’s a tenderness in the set of his shoulders, as though he wants to protect me from the fact that I’m more liability than asset.

  It makes me love him more than I ever have, but it’s also useless. I can’t be inconsequential anymore. I can’t put them at risk, and if I’m a Cavy, I do my part. “I’m going with Goose. Two heads are better than one.”

  “You’ll slow me down.”

  “That’s okay. You zip around, I’ll do a slower search. You find her first, come get me, and vice versa.”

  He would find her first, and it wouldn’t take more than a couple ticks of the clock for him to get back to me. Then we could free Flicker together.

  “I’m not convinced that making a scene at the outset is the best idea. What if Goose can get in, get Flicker, and get out before they even know we’re there? Haint can keep watch, warn us if they’re onto us.” Athena shrugs, the tips of his ears pink. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m not up for a fight, but why risk it?”

  “Maybe, but we don’t know what kind of countermeasures there are going to be, or what variables we’re dealing with. Like, how many people will be inside? Will Goose lose his light-speed as soon as he steps through the doors?” Mole shakes his head. “We can’t risk it. We need to draw as many of them outside as we can and then keep them busy.”

  Pollyanna nods. “Go on the offensive.”

  It’s quiet for a few moments, then Haint looks around, meeting all our gazes in turn. We nod in response to her silent question, the one we all hear, all feel. Are you in?

  We’re in. For Flicker. For us.

  For the chance to know the truth about where we come from and maybe, just maybe, what we can expect from our futures.

  We don’t talk about what happens afterward, even though there’s no way we can return to these lives after we steal an Asset from the government. We won’t be able to go home as though nothing happened.

  We all know that, even though we don’t say it aloud. I wonder if I’m the only one who’s sorry.

  My phone rings in the middle of the night, but I’m already awake. I can’t stop sweating, for one thing, and am lying on the floor in nothing but shorts and a tank top, but mostly it’s the thought of the morning’s adventure that’s got me too riled up to sleep.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” It’s Mole. “You awake?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I want to go and see Jeannie. Gills. Let her know what’s going down tomorrow, see if there’s anything she can tell us that we don’t know.” He pauses. “I don’t know why they never contacted us again, and maybe she’s going to be pissed, but I don’t really care.”

  “Okay.” Dane’s veiled warning, the suggestion that the Olders are not what they appear, tickles my worry. Still, it’s not a bad idea. Nothing is more valuable than information right now. “You want me to come?”

  “I was hoping you’d offer.”

  “Give me half an hour.”

  “Gypsy?” he says the second before I hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t walk. Call a cab. It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Gotcha.” His concern makes me smile as I hang up with him and dial a taxi company, requesting they meet me at the corner of Water and Meeting in ten minutes.

  I get dressed, grab my coat, turn off the alarm, and slip into the hazy, cold December night. The streets are deserted, shiny from the fog, but even in the middle of the night, Charleston doesn’t feel dangerous. It takes fewer than five minutes to get to the end of the block, and thirty seconds after that, a taxi pulls up and verifies my name, like I arranged on the phone.

  Mole’s waiting in front of his group home, wearing mismatched shirt and pants. We could walk from here, since we’re together, but we’re supposed to meet the other Cavies before dawn. There’s no time to waste.

  The driver drops us on King Street; it’s glowing under the streetlamps, like a postcard. The dark storefronts peer at us like empty eye sockets, tracking our progress down the block and up the steps to Jeannie’s apartment.

  She answers after five minutes of grumbling, but the half-ash cigarette between her lips makes me think we didn’t wake her up. The way she narrows her eyes at our appearance doesn’t convey surprise so much as annoyance, but she opens the door to let us in anyway.

  We sit on the smoky couch in the living room this time. The place doesn’t seem quite so small with only three of us inside. She watches us in the glow of the television, which is tuned to some twenty-four-hour shopping network. “Well? You gonna tell me why you’re here in the middle of the night? You have questions about Cavy sex? Because let me tell you, you should.”

  “What?” I shoot a glance at Mole, one full of mortification. “No.”

  “Cripes, Gypsy, I can feel you blushing,” Mole snaps. “It’s not that crazy of a question.”

  “No, it’s crazy.” I take a deep breath, trying to cool off my embarrassment, and turn back to Gills. “We found a building where the government might be keeping Flicker, the girl from our generation who’s been missing.”

  “We’re going after her in the morning,” Mole adds, picking up the story. “One of the agents we’ve met has a kind of nullifying effect on our abilities, though, so we’re worried they won’t work. We were wondering if there’s anything you can tell us about this agency, or the serum you gave us, that might help us.”

  She takes three long drags of her cigarette, until ashes hang precariously off the end. “Where?”

  “Conc
ord Street. By the Port Authority,” I supply. I hold my breath, only partly because of the smoke. “Do you know anything about it?”

  “That’s one of theirs, all right.” Another two drags, then she stubs it out and lights another. “This agent you’ve run into… his name?”

  “Dane Kim,” Mole supplies.

  “The one at the fancy-pants high school? He blocks your gifts?” When we nod, my mouth open a little at how much Jeannie knows, she continues. “They developed that little trick several years back, but it’s hard on the system. Not everyone can handle it, and the Olders came up with a counteradjustment two years ago. The serum should have given you the ability to overcome it.”

  “We’re starting to, but it’s kind of hit or miss.” Mole picks at his cuticles. “Why didn’t you get back to us after the other day?”

  Gills is quiet for a long time, finishing her second cigarette before answering. “I’m not sure I should say, but maybe there’s no harm. We’ve been watching you, and listening, and Chameleon worries that you’ve been compromised. That you’re turning willing Asset, maybe already are, and they’re using you to lure the Olders into the open.”

  My head shakes of its own accord. “That’s not true. All we want is to help Flicker. They’ve been hurting her, making her do things for them, keeping her trapped. Everything we’ve done since we found out is to find her.”

  Her blank, steady gaze pins me down. “You’re one of the main suspects. Been running into that Agent Kim pretty often in the past two weeks.”

  “Because his job is spying. He’s tried to recruit us, but don’t worry. He knows I’m not interested.”

  She ignores me, taking a lengthy pause, but doesn’t light another cigarette. “Your gifts may work tomorrow morning, they may not. Can’t promise anything, including that your tenth is in that warehouse.” Another lengthy pause, but she doesn’t light up again, thank goodness. “It could be a trap, you know. They’re aware you took Agent Kim’s laptop and files.”

  “It could be,” I admit, wondering how she’s aware of that fact.

  “Tell you what. No matter Chameleon’s reservations, he won’t want you all to be caught and kept. Their nullifying agent doesn’t work on us, that’s for sure. I’ll round up a few Olders, and we’ll be there tomorrow, just in case. You won’t see us, and if nothing goes awry, you might never again. But if you need help, we’ll be there.”

  We thank her, and even though I can feel Mole wondering the same thing I am, which is why she would promise to do this after days and days of silence, we don’t ask the question.

  Maybe we don’t want to hear the answer.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It hits me while I’m brushing my teeth that Christmas is almost here. I bought a book for my dad, just a nonfiction one about the French Quarter that he’d mentioned wanting to read a couple of weeks ago, but nothing else. It seemed a silly thing to buy on a whim, but it’s the only thing I know he wants.

  Now I realize he’ll open it after I’m gone. That to him, I’ll be the ghost in this house.

  My soul aches at the thought of breaking my father’s heart. In the wee hours of the morning I write the best explanation I can come up with in the front of his book, then wrap it up and tie a pretty bow with shaking fingers. I hope he knows it’s not because of him, and that he can see the regret smeared among the letters and words.

  I want to stay. I just can’t.

  The presents from Jude, a strange mesh of my past and present, go into a backpack I fill with the few things I want to take with me. A spare pair of jeans, five pairs of underwear, a second bra, two sweaters, and one tank top. These things, combined with the sneakers on my feet and the coat trying its best to thwart the shivers wracking my body, are all of this life that comes along when I leave.

  Mole waits in the alley, like we planned. His blank gaze finds my face, making me feel stripped bare and raw. I don’t bother to blink away my tears since he can’t see them, but he reaches up to brush them away, anyway.

  I jerk at the last second, causing him to miss, and I frown. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t care if we know when I’m going to die, Gypsy. You’re sad, and I want to help. I want to touch you, and not through pieces of cloth.”

  My lungs squeeze. I want that, too. It’s what I’ve always wanted, to find physical comfort in the people closest to me.

  “I can’t. I don’t want to know, Mole, especially not now that there’s a chance I’ll see details.” Disappointment pinches his face, and I tug his bare fingers through my gloved ones. “It’s too much. I can’t see you that way and still keep it together.”

  He sighs, pulling me down the street toward where Pollyanna should be waiting at the corner of East Bay. “I understand. I don’t like it, and I have to say, I’m pretty miffed to be the only guy in your life that you haven’t touched at this point.” His fingers tighten, and his voice lowers to a whisper. “But I understand. Because the idea of losing you—just thinking about it—kills pieces of me so fused with everything that matters in this world, that it’s impossible to imagine a day without you.”

  They’re strange, these sweet, heartfelt words. They flutter around us, brushing my cheeks and hair and heart like the wings of a million butterflies that have spent years flying around me but only now come close enough to touch, to reveal their vibrant, stunning beauty. Instead of trying to touch them back, to capture them, I turn up my face and try to memorize the way they look. How they feel. Because I know they can’t stay.

  “I love you, Gyp.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “Yeah, and I love you both. What the fuck are we talking about?” Polly steps out of the darkness against a brick building, annoyance shadowing her face. “I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “Where’s Geoff?” I ask, pulling my gloved hand out of Mole’s and trying to focus on the morning’s task. The butterflies lift off toward the sky, still there but in a different stratosphere.

  “Haint’s busting him out.”

  “Has anyone heard from Reaper yet?” I look at Mole, who shakes his head.

  Pollyanna nods. “She called me yesterday, and I filled her in on everything that’s been going on. She said she’s going to meet us by the Port Authority this morning.”

  Relief blooms inside me like a bush of peonies in the spring. We need her. Even though I hope we don’t hurt anyone, or feel as though we need to, just having the threat of another lethal Cavy could up our chances.

  We don’t talk for the rest of the long walk. My friends’ thoughts are a mystery, and my mind is somewhat of a blank slate. We’re on the path to somewhere new, unknown, dangerous. Instead of tumbling down a hill covered in prickly worries, I push my face into the brisk, early morning breeze and breathe deep. I stare out at the horizon, where the first pinkish glow touches the waves and the sky, and take it one step at a time.

  Everyone but Reaper waits at the assigned checkpoint, a parking lot behind one of the Port Authority buildings. Gray has smudged out the blackness of night, and now streaks of orange join the pinks and purples lightening the sky. Morning arrives, and the nervous energy that thrums through us, increasing with every heartbeat, says it’s time to get this showdown started.

  In whispered voices, Mole and I tell the others what we learned from Jeannie last night, which isn’t much, but the idea that they’re here, that we have backup, straightens everyone’s spines.

  We creep toward the address from my vision. The warehouse is unimpressive from the outside, just a haint blue building built from corrugated steel and topped by a bright white roof that’s home to a roost of pigeons this morning. They coo, covering the crunching sounds of our footsteps in the gravel.

  Once we’re close, it’s easy to spot items that Mole will be able to use for his diversion. Crates and wood pallets slump in a tumbling pile next to a dumpster, which is probably filled with more of the same. We stop, meet each other’s eyes. When Goose nods and disappears, then Ha
int follows suit, and Athena and I head for the back door. He’s going to wait there in case Goose needs him.

  Behind us, there’s a deafening screech of scraping metal, a whoosh of wind, then a tremendous crash as what must be that Dumpster flies up in the air, drops its contents, and smashes back to earth—courtesy of Geoff, who can now move objects without fear of conking himself on the head. Or, he says he can, anyway. We haven’t seen it yet. My shoulders tense, waiting for the explosive heat of Mole’s fire, only relaxing when it comes.

  I risk a peek over my shoulder, knowing that Athena and I need to hurry before the commotion brings everyone and their mother outside, but I trip and fall at the sight of something completely unexpected.

  Jude’s lying in the scraggly bits of grass and gravel to the side of where the Dumpster was.

  His face and hair are blackened with soot, and I almost throw up until I see him roll over. His eyes, keen but watering from the heat and dirt, grow into huge round orbs as they take in the scene and the Cavies.

  Mole and the others run over, dragging him around the side of the building with them.

  “Gypsy, we’ve got to hide. They’re coming,” Athena begs.

  The demand in his voice triggers my instincts, but they can’t override the stuttering, desperate voice in my head asking what Jude is doing here. What he saw, what he knows, how he found us—whether he could have been involved this whole time, but slipped my radar because Dane was so much more obvious.

  No. It’s possible, I guess, but my gut says that if he’s here now, it’s because of me.

  The sight of the thick, tall hydrangea bushes that sprout along the back side of the building, all but obscuring the entrance and hiding a row of windows that sit just above the ground, makes me stumble. They’re not flowering, but I know they’re purple.

  This is it—this is where Jude is going to die. Not today. But soon.

  Athena has no idea why I’m freaking out. He reaches back and snags the hood of my sweatshirt, hauling me up and forward, straight into the bushes. Branches and leaves scrape my face and arms but I hardly feel them as I twist around to make sure the others got out of sight.