A man spoke first, followed by a woman’s laughter and more conversation. She was flattered by his advances and thanked him for his help. Her car broke down. Her voice sounded younger than his did. “I’m sure I can help,” he offered. He told her he was a mechanic.
I wanted to propel to her, but leaving my body even for short stints of time was unsafe within a pack of hybrids and without knowing Victor’s whereabouts. Destruction of my spirit meant total elimination. I could slip into a portal and escape. Although my goal was to release the hybrids, not run from them. Most were so brainwashed, they were unaware they were being held against their will.
To be sure the young female voice was not Emma’s, I reached out to Molly. She reported that Emma was safe at home, updating me that Claire recovered from her poor performance earlier in the night. Molly’s tone was light and airy, unlike her normal, snippy response.
When the man down the road suggested the girl accompany him to his home for tools, I felt tension within her thoughts.
Her comments were random and disjointed.
His response was soothing and persuasive.
She was reluctant and offered to stay by the car. He advised against it. “It’s not safe out here all alone at this time of night,” he said.
A hybrid moved. Then another.
As hard as it was, I had to focus my attention on the army around me. The girl would need to wait. The man was probably harmless, anyway.
When another hybrid shifted, I had to concentrate.
One by one, they began to close in the circle around me. It would be impossible for them to sense me. Only another immortal, a strong immortal, would know where I was.
My thoughts shifted to Victor. He had to be orchestrating this, even though I didn’t feel his presence. The only other beings here with me were hybrids. I outlined the plan of attack. I could easily take them. Molly could call out a distraction and remain safe at home. The old man would not be my first target, but instead, my last. I felt a slight possibility he would come to my aide when he realized what I was. I could take out the three hybrids to my left before the ones behind me figured out what was going on. I’d start with the one directly in front of me. He was the largest, strongest, youngest hybrid within the pack. Except, he was not the leader. That title was held by their creator.
I’d work counterclockwise and hope the old man would meet me on the other side of this tree. As the last one, I could save him. I could throw the remains of his soul into the portal. It would be out of my hands then.
Molly’s screeching voice interrupted my plan of attack. Benjamin! Benjamin… it’s him. It’s Victor!
Everything stopped. Where?
He’s with the girl near the bridge.
The voices I heard?
Yes, she answered. And, Benjamin? The girl is Stephanie.
What would she be doing out here at this time of night? I eavesdropped on Stephanie’s thoughts and realized he coerced her into the empty barn. Instead of a sexual assault, his intent was conversion.
Healthy human to hybrid.
The only difference was Stephanie Carlson’s contract was not up. Victor moved beyond the worst of crimes. He was now taking lives. A crime punishable by extinction.
“Let me go!” Stephanie’s weak voice screamed, as I searched for the portal near the barn. I streamed her thoughts and visions, watching when Victor compelled her to silence. Once she was calm, he wiped his brow and pulled out a switchblade.
He was in his mid-forties with shoulder-length dark hair and a receding hairline. His mustache and beard were neatly trimmed and clean. He wore a leather jacket, black jeans, and a red, collared shirt. A cross hung against his hairy chest from a thick, gold chain. He was physically fit and humanly strong. Though I knew his strengths were enhanced like an athlete on steroids. No one ever saw his human façade, until now.
Molly lifted her shield in thought and called his name in a disguised voice.
He stopped and turned toward the door, knife in hand. She called again and again. He spun around and around, searching for the source.
Stephanie was nervous.
Molly didn’t identify herself, or the agency. Her distorted voice echoed his name at a pitch only Victor heard. After all, we needed to take him in alive. The distraction was all I needed to enter through the portal behind Stephanie.
Despite Molly’s attempts, he heard me coming.
Instead of taking on the attack, he fled in a flash, leaving Stephanie and me alone in the dilapidated barn.
Chapter 58
Emma's Story
I checked the time on my phone.
Melissa wouldn’t be happy that I kept her waiting. I was running thirty minutes late. I sent her a quick text, but she didn’t respond. That was never a good sign. She couldn’t be that mad, could she? It was a long drive from Westport. Shouldn’t she understand that?
I picked up my pace. Hawthorne Mall wasn’t huge for Chicago standards, but it was big enough. I walked the upstairs corridor and realized I didn’t remember driving there. This mall wasn’t our usual meeting place, either.
We planned to meet at a restaurant near the middle of the mall. Funny. I couldn’t remember its name. I ran down the flight of stairs as fast as I could. When I reached center court, I lost my speed and was suddenly walking in slow motion.
A familiar-looking man sat at a bench alone. When I approached, he stood and everyone around us disappeared. He was the man in my dreams. The lights around us dimmed except for a spotlight focused on him. He was in the same wool overcoat as before, though he no longer had his pipe.
“Your parents are fine,” he said.
“I… I miss them,” I whispered, tears already building in my eyes.
“I know. That’s why I sent him.” He removed his hat, holding it near his heart. “He cares about you deeply, Elizabeth. Be patient with him. You will be rewarded for your efforts.”
Before I could speak, he vanished. The lights brightened, and people buzzed around.
A wave of panic awoke me.
I couldn’t remember the man’s face, but being called Elizabeth felt strangely right.
Chapter 59
Ben's Story
Molly and I stood before Commander E at headquarters.
It was an hour after Stephanie was safe at home with an agent on guard outside her window. Other than her recalling car trouble and a stranger coming to her rescue, we blocked out the memory of being abducted and taken to the abandoned barn. No sense in messing with her already-fragile mind.
Our detailed report with images of Victor’s human disguise was distributed to regional directors within the Midwest. Briefings were scheduled in key communities suspected of harboring Victor and his hybrids. A platoon of trackers was dispatched to the farm fields on Summit Road, but as everyone expected, Victor and his crew were long gone.
Commander E recognized my performance in front of his peers. Molly was similarly commended for her offsite participation. She was composed and confident during the meeting. As soon as we reached the hub to leave our world and return to Westport, she became quiet and reserved.
You don’t have to do this. I can handle this on my own, I said to her in a conversation I shielded from Pete Jorgenson, who escorted us.
Molly was silent, as we walked to the gate.
Jorgenson shared his comments with us earlier. Commander E left it up to Molly. She could take a leave of absence, though we both knew that meant she would go into hiding in our world.
Images of the abuse Molly suffered at the hands of Victor crossed her mind and flooded into mine. Even though I encouraged her to put the past behind her, she was unable to. Her feelings for Victor, both good and bad, lingered.
She stopped mid-stride and began to shake. In the years I worked with Molly, she never hit rock bottom like this. Not even close.
Pull yourself together, I told her.
It’s like it happened yesterday, Molly said without shie
lding her thoughts.
Molly, I recommend you reconsider the commander’s offer to remain here. At least temporarily, Jorgenson responded. Benjamin can handle this.
No, I’m fine. And I don’t want to go into hiding, Molly snapped.
I’ve notified Bianca. She’s ready and able to provide companionship for Benjamin.
Wait a minute, I interjected. I do not need a companion. There’s a team in place in Westport already… even if Molly chooses to stay behind.
Jorgenson shook his head. Your onsite team is made up of sleepers. They are not experienced—
They’re field agents, and they have experience, I said, cutting him off. Bianca doesn’t have experience.
Benjamin, calm down. Jorgenson’s voice was soothing. Poor word choice on my behalf. Yes, your team’s experienced. Frankly, the Prestons have more fieldwork on their resumes than most other agents in the vicinity. However, not one agent within a fifty-mile radius of Westport has this type of experience.
Pete, Molly said, with more confidence than I saw from her since Victor surfaced. No one does. There are only a handful of agents that have had combat to begin with. And not one single agent has ever battled Victor.
Yes, but Bianca’s trained for such combat. You both know that Sleeper Agents don’t endure the vigorous simulation exercises that Special Investigators do.
Molly’s shoulders drooped. She remained silent.
Molly, I appreciate your concerns, but this is out of my hands. Commander E has authorized the implementation of Bianca. She’s been on standby ever since the bulletin was posted.
What? I asked.
Whenever you need her, she’s ready. It’s your call. Either of yours, he answered.
I’m fine, Pete. Please let Commander E know that I am fully capable of putting my personal feelings aside for the betterment of the team.
Jorgenson looked at Molly. Their eyes connected until the thought exchange was complete. Molly would return to the front line with me. Jorgenson gave her a hug, and then turned to shake my hand. May you succeed in your mission, he said and left.
Molly’s face was pale and her shoulders slouched when we returned to my house through the portal. She slumped into the white leather armchair that enveloped her weak, human body. She was exhausted, nervous, and anxious. Yet, I knew she would never give up.
The attic was converted to a regional office long before Molly or I ever stepped foot in Westport. Within minutes of our return, Claire and Marty arrived, as did Grant and Ava Preston, Molly’s fake parents. Each sat around the marble top, oblong table as silhouettes of other dormant officers in the area appeared around us. Commander E addressed our group, briefing everyone on what Molly and I already knew. He was cautious, leaving out confidential details above their security level, but still gave enough information to put us all on alert. Our security level was raised to red, a level not seen during my tenure.
When his speech concluded, I knew it was simply a matter of time before Bianca joined us. What capacity that may be, I wasn’t sure. It all depended upon Molly. And for now, Molly was not at her peak.
The group dissipated slowly. News of Victor was difficult to absorb. Most, if not all of, the agents in the area never experienced firsthand the workings of one of our most notorious criminals. Shock ran through everyone, as did commendation to Molly and me for our quick wit. Though it wasn’t recognition I wanted at that moment. I wanted to see Emma.
I had to see her.
I hated the stalking feeling I got every time I eavesdropped in on her. When her thoughts were quiet, I felt the need to confirm she was safe.
I propelled to her house and hovered over the window. Chester raised his head from his spot on the bed. He rolled his eyes, and then put his head between his paws. You’re a sap, man, Chester said in thought. She’s fine. I’ve been here all night. You’re right. Something’s wrong with Lucas. In all my years, I’ve never experienced it either.
Chester was an agent for a century. He specialized in youth, in helping children and teenagers in the aftermath of losing a parent.
He saw it all. He was solid and stable.
Except he didn’t have experience with Victor, either.
Chapter 60
Emma's Story
My second week at Westport High School was better than the first.
At least, I felt better about it. When I walked down the hall, people smiled and waved. Claire waited for me every day for lunch and each afternoon for soccer practice. Things fell into a routine. I turned in all of my assignments and made up the last of the quizzes I missed in calculus.
Being caught up was a satisfying feeling, though I still missed Highland Park.
“Claire reminds me of you,” I told Melissa when she asked how I was doing. Melissa and I spoke almost every night and texted several times a day. Mostly it was small talk about school or soccer. I told her about the team I joined in Westport, and she kept me up-to-date on people we knew. Matt had asked Aimee to the homecoming dance, but supposedly only as friends.
“You should come for a visit,” Melissa suggested.
“I know. I want to, um… well, I’m not sure I should ask my aunt. At least not yet.”
“Yeah. I’d ask my mom, but I know she won’t let me drive there,” Melissa said. “Hey… we’re going to a football game at Northwestern in a few weeks. Wanna come?”
“Umm… I’ll have to ask,” I said. A college football game, out of state? There was no way Aunt Barb would agree to that. At least, I didn’t think so. “I’ll let you know.”
We both knew that meant no.
I couldn’t get the idea out of my head, as I worked on my pencil sketch in art class. I wondered if Aunt Barb would say no. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t even ask. I could just tell her I was visiting Melissa. I didn’t think Aunt Barb would call Melissa’s mom.
Or would she?
“Emma, you’re so quiet today,” Hannah said. She and Claire chatted most of the class about anything and everything. She drilled Claire about Drew for a half hour, before moving on to TJ and Molly’s break up.
“Ah… no reason,” I answered and looked up. Lucas glanced at me and smiled.
“Are you going to the football game tomorrow night?”
“Um, I’m not sure,” I answered, refusing to look up.
“You should. Claire, you’re going, right?”
“Of course,” Claire answered as the teacher instructed us to pack up our supplies. “Emma, you can ride with me.”
“Okay.”
“Did you get your homecoming dress yet?” Hannah asked without looking up.
Claire glanced at me, and then answered. “Not yet. How ’bout you?”
“Yup. I got it in Chicago when my mom and I went to Emma’s—”
“What does it look like?” Claire cut her off.
Hannah paused and looked away briefly before describing her dress as short and strapless in metallic-silver taffeta.
“When is homecoming?” I asked as the bell rang, acting as if I didn’t figure out she was talking about the Chicago trip for my dad’s funeral.
“In a couple of weeks. You have time to find a dress. You know, your aunt’s boutique at the Inn has really nice dresses. Maybe she’ll have something for you,” Hannah said as we walked out of the classroom.
“Oh. I don’t think I’m going,” I said.
“You have to. Everyone that’s anyone goes to the dance,” Hannah said just before the three of us parted ways.
I hurried down the hall, Hannah’s thoughts fluttering in my mind. It was flattering, being “in” with the popular crowd. On the other hand, it meant I couldn’t go to the dance alone. Thoughts of Ben entered my mind. It was silly, actually. Getting my hopes up was a guaranteed letdown. He would never ask me to the dance. Especially since Stephanie Carlson targeted him all week.
I strolled into literature class and took my seat as the bell rang.
I dreaded literature. It meant lots of r
eading of old historical novels by authors that wrote in a language too difficult for me to understand. Mrs. Moore called the class to attention, as my mind began to wander.
Did Ben like Stephanie? I never saw him smile or flirt with her. He seemed to tolerate her.
Mrs. Moore’s irritating voice interrupted my thoughts. “Their writing is exceptional. Their stories have messages we must decipher. This is why American literature is so interesting and one of the reasons I love it,” she said, and then paused for a moment. The silence was eerie. “Reading classical literature is my passion.” She looked around the room and pointed to no one in particular. “My wish for each of you,” she smiled before she completed her thought, “is that you will achieve a passion for literature after this semester project.”
There weren’t any weird teachers like her back in Highland Park. At least, none that I knew, anyway. She obviously loved her job. I, on the other hand, was not interested in literature. I found it boring. I loved to read, but I liked modern novels by authors that wrote about topics I enjoyed, not ones with hidden messages and old English I had to interpret in order to understand it. I was told we would study Romeo and Juliet this year, which I heard was a good section. But this project was not.
Mrs. Moore counted out sheets of paper and handed them out by row. The girl in front of me, whose name I didn’t know, passed the stack back to me. As I grabbed my copy and turned to pass the rest back, I noticed Ben for a split second. He sat three rows to my left and two seats back. Our eyes met momentarily; at least, I thought they did. Maybe I just hoped for it. He certainly didn’t acknowledge me in calculus first period that morning.
The class was distracted by the handouts, with small chitchat going on in various corners of the room. Mrs. Moore spoke loudly after handing out the last stack of papers, “Okay, settle down, class,” she said and proceeded to explain the project. It sounded more like a sales pitch on how wonderful early American literature was.
I scanned the list of authors and suggested titles. Most I never heard of, or had any interest in reading. Maybe Hemingway, I thought. Mrs. Moore’s voice jumped me back out of my daydream.