“This thing you can do—the ability you have to see things happening someplace else—has made you a target. Before you were born, your mother—your real mother—was given a drug. It was supposed to enhance your ability so you’d be stronger. More powerful. She was part of a science project called Supremacy just like my mom.”
“The problem is,” Alex cut in with a harsh sidelong glance in my direction, “it has a nasty side effect that eventually leads to death.”
“Or murder,” I added. Ashley looked a little green. Good. She needed to understand this wasn’t a game. “What do you know about your parents?”
She picked up something on the table next to the couch and began fidgeting with it. A paintbrush. “My real parents? Nothing. I was adopted two weeks after I was born.”
How was I supposed to tell this girl her adoptive parents were probably going to kill her in her sleep? It wasn’t something that rolled off the tongue. “Think of this house as—as a zoo.”
“A zoo?” she whispered, pale.
“You were raised in captivity by people hoping to breed a monster.”
Her eyes bugged out and she dropped the paintbrush. It hit the floor and bounced, ending up under the coffee table between Alex and her. “Breed— Wha—?”
I thought my analogy was pretty sharp, but Alex didn’t agree. In hindsight, it might have been a little too graphic. Accurate, but graphic. He shot me a look that threatened violence and continued in a more neutral tone. “We think your parents—the people who adopted you—work for a company called Denazen. They’re supposed to watch you for signs of development.”
“Development?” she squeaked, fingers gripping the edge of the cushion. “What are you talking about? My mom is an artist and my dad works in construction.”
“Have you noticed anything strange about your abilities lately? Anything abnormal or new? Maybe something you couldn’t do before but can now?”
Her eyes narrowed and the fingers on her right hand started picking at the fabric on the couch cushion. Bingo! She’d given herself away.
“Look, I wasn’t kidding. There’s no time to play games. Not for you and definitely not for us. Cut the crap and just be straight.”
“Dez—”
“Sorry, Alex. No one coddled me when I found out. It’s like ripping off a Band-Aid. Just do it.”
“That’s the Nike slogan, not Band-Aids,” he said with an exasperated sigh.
I always knew I was different from everyone else, but it wasn’t until I met Kale that I learned how different that was. The truth of it had turned my universe inside out. But I adapted. I had to. It was the only way to survive. Ashley was either going to sink or swim.
“Whatever good-cop-bad-cop routine you two have going, I’m not really interested.” Ashley stood and pointed to the door. “I think you guys should go.”
“There’s no good-cop-bad-cop. Only the truth. And if you don’t let us help you before it’s too late, you’re going to die. Maybe it’ll be a stranger. Maybe it’ll be your own parents. But you’ve been scheduled for termination. You and me—we’ve officially become obsolete.”
“You know you sound insane, right?” She threw both hands into the air. She might not believe us 100 percent, but we’d planted a seed. Sometimes that was all we could hope for.
“We know how this sounds, but it’s the truth,” Alex said. He flashed her a smile that, at one time, would have made my heart stop. He’d always been good at putting people at ease. Maybe it was the way he looked at you. Like you were the only one in the room and he was totally absorbed in anything and everything you were about to say.
“These people want to use your ability to do some really messed-up things. The problem is, the drug they used to boost your power is toxic. As you get older, your body can’t handle it.” He tapped the side of his head, frowning. “Screws up your mind. The signs come on slowly, but they probably would have started by now. You turn eighteen soon, right?”
“A little more than four months.”
“Humor me for a sec,” I said, balancing myself on the arm of the couch as she sat back down. “Hallucinations, paranoid delusions, unsteady mood swings… Any of that ring a bell?”
Ashley’s brow furrowed. “As in, have I experienced any of them?”
“These are just some of the more common warning signs. There are others,” Alex said. “Please. Just give us a few more minutes?”
From the way she kept looking from Alex to the door, I didn’t think she’d agree, but after a moment, she nodded. “How can you even be sure I’ve got one of these—”
“Abilities?” Alex flashed her his patented Elvis smile and leaned a little closer. “We know you can see things that are happening in other places. It’s called remote viewing.”
She hesitated for a moment before sighing, then stood. “You showed my yours, so I guess I could show you mine…” Ashley bent over and pulled open the red backpack on the end table. She rifled through, withdrawing several loose pieces of notebook paper. Handing one to Alex, she said, “I did this a week ago.”
I leaned over to get a better peek. It was a pencil drawing—if you could even call it that. It looked like two guys arguing in traffic. The figures were borderline stick with overly large heads and exaggerated features. All it was missing was the big, yellow, smiley face sun, and it would take first prize in the kindergarten refrigerator art awards. “It’s, um, nice.”
Ashley rolled her eyes and snatched the picture back, cradling it protectively. “It’s horrible.” She flopped on the couch beside Alex. “I’ve been drawing and painting since I was eight. The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do was become an artist like my mom.” She waved the paper back and forth. “But I suck. No matter how much I practice, I suck.”
“I wouldn’t say suck,” Alex said encouragingly. “You might need a little more—”
“Practice? No.” She thrust one of the other sheets at him. “Not anymore.”
Alex stared down at the paper, mouth falling open as Fred, the happy-faced labret bead, wobbled from side to side. Holding it up so I could see, he asked, “Dez, do you see what I see?”
This drawing was nothing like the first. It was shaded in black and blue ink, giving it an eerie noire quality, with crisp lines and flawless, almost photographic, detail. “You did this?”
The difference in skill wasn’t the only noteworthy thing about the drawing. One of the people in it was of interest. Serious interest. “Able,” I whispered. She had the details down so perfectly. I could see the subtle shift in his nose—one of the only ways I could tell apart him and his twin brother, Aubrey. From the picture, it looked as though he stood at her front door talking to a man I guessed was her father. “When did you draw this? When did it happen?”
“That’s where things get even weirder. I did this drawing two days before it happened—”
“Before it happened?” Alex asked. “But you said—”
He was hung up on the how, which was stupid. Wasn’t it obvious? It was the Supremacy side effects kicking in. A surge in ability right before we went over the deep end. I was more interested in the what. “When did this guy come here? Do you have any idea what they said?”
She shook her head and took the drawing, returning it to the safety of her pack. “I only caught enough of a glimpse to know it was the same as my drawing. I was too freaked to stick around.”
“The guy in that picture is dangerous.” Alex lost his grin. “You’re in a lot of trouble. You’ve got to let us help.”
She hesitated before coming back and settling next to Alex on the couch. “I know something’s not right. I’ve had a feeling for a while now…” She turned to me. “But my parents love me. They’re not going to let anything happen. Before I do anything I need to talk to them.”
“That’s a bad idea,” Alex said, standing. “They could—”
I grabbed his arm and reached past her to rip off the corner of the newspaper on the coffee table. Snagging the pen besi
de it, I jotted down both our cell numbers—Alex’s and mine—and handed her the piece of paper. “Like Alex said, we’re not here to force you into anything, but I strongly suggest you think about this—fast. These are our cells. If you change your mind or need anything, call.”
Then without looking back, I walked out the door.
6
After Alex and I made it back to the cabin, Ginger gave us the next name. Conny Delgeto. The information said the girl could manipulate sound—which I thought was kind of vague. Did that mean she could throw her voice? Or possibly mimic someone else’s? Was she just really good at animal calls? I found it annoying, not to mention dangerous, not knowing exactly what we were walking into. Just because Ginger had an inside line to the future didn’t mean I wanted to stumble around blind.
Brandt was awake, and I suggested he come with me instead of Alex, but Ginger insisted she had something else for him to do. I didn’t buy it. The old woman seemed to live to make me miserable.
Conny’s house was several towns over, and it ended up taking us almost three hours to get there because about twenty minutes after we left the cabin, it started sleeting. After he’d gotten his license in ninth grade, Alex had a pretty nasty accident in the snow. Ever since, wintertime driving was something he approached with the utmost caution, which was funny, since he was hell on wheels the rest of the year. There was a growing collection of tickets threatening to overflow the glove box, and I was certain that somewhere out there was an officer with a bench warrant for his arrest.
“Please try and be a little less aggressive with this one,” Alex said, slamming the driver’s side door. He’d been quiet since we left Ashley’s this morning, and I knew he was annoyed with how I’d handled things.
I didn’t answer. I hadn’t been aggressive; I’d been honest. If I were her, I would appreciate not having the whole thing sugarcoated.
Then again, not many people were like me.
We stopped at the foot of the driveway. The Delgeto house was a sprawling Victorian with a perfectly manicured lawn riddled with holly bushes. There was a large pine in the middle decorated with red and blue balls and sporadic tufts of tinsel, topped with a gaudy angel dressed in gold. “No cars. Maybe no one’s home?”
“Place does look deserted, but it’s almost four. They’re probably still at work.” The house was dark, the only source of light coming from a single bulb above the front door. Alex inclined his head toward the garage and stuffed his cell into his back pocket. The door sat off the ground several inches. “Shall we?”
“And if someone is inside?”
He shrugged and shuffled down the drive. “We’ll deal.”
The door opened with a shrill squeal, gears in desperate need of oiling announcing our presence like a fire siren in a library. There were no cars in the garage, but it wasn’t empty. On the far wall there was a series of shelves, each stacked with cardboard boxes of varying sizes and colors. Some were labeled in black marker, noting kitchen or bedroom, others said living room—one simply had a smiley face with its tongue sticking out.
On the floor against the walls were various types of yard equipment. A lawn mower, weed wacker, shovels, and other assorted gardening tools. Pretty much your typical variety of garage inhabitants.
Typical…except for the blond girl hanging from the door track in the middle of the room.
“Shit,” Alex cursed, taking two steps inside.
I turned away, not wanting to see the vacant, dead look in the girl’s sallow eyes, but it was too late. I’d seen it—and it was something I’d never forget. “We can’t just leave her like this. You have your cell?”
He hesitated, looking from the girl to me, then back again. “It’s in the car.”
“I’ll wait here. Go call Ginger. See what she wants us to do.”
He stepped in front of me, strong hands latching onto my shoulders and holding tight. “We knew we weren’t going to get them all, Dez. Why don’t I wait here and you go back to the—”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling away. I didn’t need to be babied. He should know that. “Just go call Ginger. I’ll be out in a sec. I just—I just need a minute alone.”
He hesitated but knew better than to argue. With one last look, he ducked back under the door, leaving Conny and me alone.
One dead Supremacy girl to another.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get here in time,” I said, turning back to face her. Whoever she’d been, she deserved that much. I didn’t know if she’d done this herself or if someone helped her to her end, but either way, this wasn’t her fault.
She had short blond hair and a pixie-like face, and I found myself imagining what her laugh might have sounded like and what kind of jokes she thought were funny. Her eyes, wide and unseeing, were a vibrant green. Had she been the popular girl? The loner? Maybe she was the quiet, artistic type with a small, close circle of friends that had been together since kindergarten. The kind who expected to grow up and old together, neighbors until they were wrinkled and gray.
That would never happen now.
I dragged over a large crate, climbed up so we were eye level, and ran my hand along her forehead and over her eyelids to close them. She was ice cold, indicating she’d been like this a while. Even if we’d gotten here sooner, she probably would have been gone already. “Whoever you were, you didn’t deserve this. None of us do…”
I heard the door connecting the garage to the house open as I stepped down from the crate. “She can’t hear you.”
Kale.
I didn’t bother turning around. Looking in his eyes would only make this ten times harder than speaking the words. “Did you do this?”
His footsteps echoed against the concrete, the sound bouncing off the garage walls as he came around to stand between Conny and me. “No.”
Today Kale was dressed in black jeans and a dark purple T-shirt. He was wearing a leather jacket and for some reason, the sight of him almost sent me into hysterical giggles. I’d seen Kale in a leather jacket once. For the costume party at Sumrun. It was a good look for him, but now it looked wrong. So out of place…
I knew I should be afraid of him after what I’d seen at the Nix rave, but the idea that Kale could—would—hurt me seemed so absurd. Even now, with his movements stiff and expression so cold. “But you came here to kill her?”
“If the opportunity presented itself, I was supposed to take her out. Obviously I wasn’t needed.” His tone was neutral. Not angry or aggressive. If one were to ignore the actual words, someone would simply see two people casually talking.
“And how many have you killed so far?” I took a deep breath. “How many innocent lives have you taken?”
“The Supremacy experiments are not innocent.”
And that’s where my control started to slip. “Do you even hear yourself? They’re people, Kale. Not experiments.” There was a lump forming in my throat. The guy in front of me was wearing Kale’s face. He had Kale’s voice and his amazing blue eyes, but everything else was alien. “This isn’t you.”
“How do you know?” He stepped forward. There was something in his eyes that screamed of eerie familiarity. Something dark that reminded me of the day we first met. Kiernan and Samsen attacked us at the amusement park. Kale tried to hide it, ashamed over his lack of regret for Samsen’s fate, but that look was in his eyes again. Back then, I’d seen it—and hadn’t cared. I had a fairly good idea what he went through at Denazen—feeling anger and wanting revenge was only natural. But now? It scared me because the good parts of Kale seemed to be buried and I wondered what that left exposed.
“I know more about the real you than you do,” I whispered. A spark of boldness washed through me and I stepped forward. Closer to him. Closer to danger. “They’re lying to you. Everything they’ve filled your head with isn’t real.”
“And you want to set me straight. Is that right?”
I didn’t miss the hint of mockery in his voice. It was the same tone I’d h
eard him use a thousand times when ribbing Alex. I ignored it. A seed. That was all I needed. Enough of a seed to get him thinking. I was sure once I started the ball rolling, his mind would do the rest.
It had to, right? This was Kale.
I squared my shoulders and sucked in a breath. “That’s right.”
He stepped back and folded his arms, expression amused. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
I knew he was just playing with me, but a small voice inside my head begged me to try anyway. “That girl you keep calling Roz—she’s Kiernan McGuire. She and Marshal Cross are using you.”
He didn’t say anything, so I took it as a good sign and kept going, hopeful and on a roll. “You’re not the monster they’re trying to make you think you are.”
“Or,” he said, taking another step closer, “you’re Kiernan McGuire—the girl who tried to kill me, resulting in the loss of my memory.” He poked me hard in the shoulder. “My family, my friends—my life—all gone because of you. Roz and Marshal are trying to help me. I love her.”
His statement pushed the limits of my control. It was one thing to see the lip lock—but to hear him profess his love for her? I couldn’t deal. “You love me!” I screamed. Even stomped my foot for dramatic effect. It didn’t make a difference.
Kale threw himself forward, knocking us both back against the wall. “I hate you,” he breathed, face inches from mine. In his eyes was all the rage and anger he had for Denazen. All channeled at me. “You destroyed my life.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes, and for once, I didn’t care. The weight of his words came close to suffocating me. “I saved your life,” I managed. “And you saved mine.”
“Dez?” Alex called from the other side of the garage door. “You okay?”
Kale looked from me to the door. For a second his brow furrowed, almost as though he recognized the voice and was trying hard to place it. When he turned back, his expression was different. Not warm, but not the same kind of cold, either. This was something else. Uncertainty. War. A thought or feeling—something—was fighting for his attention. I could see it in his eyes. He was in there. My Kale wasn’t lost.