Hunted (Talented Saga # 3) (6 page)

“No,” he said firmly.
“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I am just not sure you’re being objective. You loved her, she was your friend, and you want to believe she knew you and your family, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true.” He smoothed my wild curls away from my face and locked his eyes with mine.

“The memories just feel so real,” I said weakly, my resolve weakening under the loving gaze.

“I know, Tals. I can feel they do, too. But you can implant false memories in other people’s minds and make them believe anything you want. If she had been mimicking you, then she could have done that, too.”

“You’re right,” I agreed.
“But, Erik, she didn’t implant false memories. She could have, and I would have believed them unquestioningly because I would have thought they were my own. But she didn’t. She showed me her memories. Penny knew my parents. Crane knew my parents.”

Erik’s eyes softened, a flood of mixed emotions swirled like a tidal pool in his confused head.
He was on the fence, unsure of what to make of my insistence.

“Tal, if what Penny showed you really happened, why don’t
you
have any memory of it? You said you were young, but not a baby. Don’t you think you would remember if you’d met Ian Crane?” Erik asked skeptically.

I swallowed hard.
I’d been wondering the same thing. I remembered most of my childhood, or at least I thought I did. If my parents had met with Crane and I was there, I should have my own memory of the encounter. But I didn’t.

“No......Yes......I don’t know, Erik.
I was really young. How far back can you really remember?” I shot back, becoming defensive. The rational part of me knew Erik was trying to remain impartial, be the voice of reason. But the part of me that needed validation that I wasn’t crazy for believing Penny felt as though he was attacking me, purposely poking holes in my logic.

Erik held up his hands in surrender, although he didn’t seem all that surprised by my reaction.
“Okay, let’s say for arguments sake that Penny’s memories are real. What does that actually prove? At one time, maybe Crane was friends with your family.” Erik shrugged as if to say, “so what?” “It doesn’t change the fact he killed your parents.”

“For me, it does,” I said quietly.
“I need to know why. If they were friends, then why did Crane order the hit?” I boldly met Erik’s gaze, daring him to come up with some answer. I could feel several formulating in his mind, but he pushed them aside and shook his head. “Crane had me strapped to a bed, Erik. He could have killed me, but he didn’t.”

Erik inhaled deeply.
“No, I guess not,” he said, giving a short snort of laughter. “He gave you seizures instead. Let his men shoot you. Neither of those is much better.”

“Crane tried to keep his men from shooting at me,” I replied absently.

I didn’t know why I felt the need to defend Crane. Everything Erik said was true. There were even days, particularly when the seizures first started and I was still recovering from the bullet’s damage that I thought I would have been better off dead. Now only in moments of extreme weakness did I revisit those feelings.

“And what if it weren’t the injections that made me sick?” I continued.

“The blood transfusion?” Erik guessed.

I nodded.
Something about the blood transfusion I’d received didn’t sit right with me. Donavon insisted there was nothing wrong with him; that Mac didn’t want me to know Donavon had given me his blood because it was against protocol. But I knew there was more to it than that. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any clue as to what in Donavon’s blood could be making me sick. He wasn’t sick, he didn’t have seizures.

“It’s possible,” Erik conceded.
Pain drew heavy lines on his beautiful face as he absorbed the fear and confusion that I’d been living with for the past year. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to mine. “I promise you we will figure all of this out. Okay?”

My lips found his.
“Okay,” I murmured against his mouth. The night had been so exhausting, I couldn’t think straight anymore. All I wanted was to forget about everything except Erik, to lose myself in him.

The cold, odorous underground station vanished.
Thoughts of Penny and Crane and even my parents disappeared. I wrapped my arms around Erik’s neck, pulling all my hundred pounds into his lap as I kissed him deeper. Erik’s hands slid between my jacket and dress, gently kneading the tension knots in my lower back. When we finally drew apart, we were both short of breath. I pulled one of his hands from my waist, placing it over my heart. He ran his fingers lightly over the material of my jacket, the warmth of his touch penetrating through the fabric and making my skin tingle.

He leaned towards me again, resting his chin just above my collarbone.
His breath tickled my neck and every tiny hair on my body stood on end as he whispered, “I love you,” into my ear.

“I love you, too,” I croaked hoarsely, so overcome by emotion that I was surprised the words were audible.

Erik held me in his lap for a couple more long minutes before I remembered Arden’s warning. The next train was due to come through very shortly and conductor or not, I didn’t want to be in the station when it did.

Chapter Six

The vibrations in the stagnant air gave me a split second warning before a horn drowned out the sound of our footsteps.
Lights I hadn’t noticed earlier came to life along one side of the platform’s edge. Fear made my hand go clammy in Erik’s. We were so going to get caught.

I found Erik’s eyes.
The train’s headlight illuminated the alarm he was trying hard not to show. Uncertainty turned his thoughts anxious. Before I knew it, he was dragging me across the slippery tiles towards the tracks that weren’t illuminated by the headlight of the approaching train. Without hesitation, he leapt on to the tracks, pulling me over the platform’s edge after him. Erik hugged the inner wall, careful not to touch the rails themselves. I struggled to keep pace in my slippery ballet flats, not bothering to be quiet as I followed him into the darkened tunnel.

Metal screeched against metal as the train pulled up against the platform we’d just vacated.
Curiosity mingled with the growing fear in my stomach as we crouched in the blackened space. Erik tried to exude calm, pretending that he was in control of the situation. It wasn’t working. I could feel his anxiety, and it heightened my own. Despite the cold, he started to sweat. My sense of smell seemed enhanced and the faint odor of his deodorant mixed with his sweat filled my nostrils. I tried in vain to dull my olfactory senses and breathed only through my mouth.

The train doors emitted a mechanical whine when they slid apart.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the stale air. Beads of cold sweat weaved their way down my back, plastering my dress to my skin. All the surety that I’d had when we told Arden not to worry about us getting caught was gone. I no longer felt confident in my ability to talk our way out of trouble.

“I thought you said the subways were automatic?
That they weren’t manned by conductors?”
I sent, my growing unease making my mental voice sound strained.

“They usually aren’t.
The train usually just passes through the station,”
Erik’s mental voice sounded as stressed as I felt.

“Why did they stop?”
I demanded, even though I knew that Erik was no more clued in to the situation than I was.

“I don’t know,
Tals, but I’m sure they’ll be gone soon,”
he promised. His hand was cold and clammy when he squeezed mine in an attempt to calm my nerves.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, inhaling deeply
. Relax, Talia. Worst case scenario, they find us. We weren’t doing anything wrong really. Sure, we weren’t exactly supposed to be down here, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d been caught someplace I shouldn’t be. And it certainly wasn’t the first time that Erik had been caught in a prohibited location. Fine. We were going to be fine. I hated having to give myself the mental pep talk.

Several more sets of footsteps clamored down the metal stairs of the escalators as they descended to the platform.
I gripped Erik’s hand tighter and he hugged me tight against his side.

“Warden
Arnouse,” a deep voice boomed, the words reverberating through the tunnel. My breath caught in my throat and my body went rigid. I recognized that voice: Mac. Erik recognized Mac’s voice instantly, as well. His entire body tensed, and he swore under his breath.

“Director, how are you?” the man I assumed was Warden
Arnouse called back.

“Doing well,” Mac answered.

The thought of Mac, impeccably dressed in his perfectly tailored navy suit and crisp white dress shirt, standing amid the filth and squalor of the metro station was almost comical. A bubble of hysterical laughter managed to escape my mouth before I could prevent it.

“Talia!”
Erik admonished me.

“Sorry.
I couldn’t help it,”
I replied, burying my face against his chest to stifle any further outbursts. Luckily, my voice hadn’t traveled beyond the depths of our tunnel and neither man heard me.

“How was the ride from Tramblewood?
Has the prisoner spoken?” Mac asked back on the platform.

“Tramblewood!”
I exclaimed.
“What’s going on?”
My heart thudded loudly in my chest, and blood roared in my ears.

Erik didn’t answer.
I hadn’t actually expected him to.

“No, sir.
Been nearly comatose the entire way,” the Warden said.

“Excellent.
Irene is anticipating your arrival at Rittenhouse within the hour. She has guards standing by as an added precaution, but I do not really expect any trouble,” Mac replied.

“Neither
do I, sir. The drugs should keep TI-912 sedated until Dr. Thistler has taken custody.”

Dr. Thistler
? What did she have to do with anything? Dr. Thistler was my doctor. Well, technically she was Head of Medical Research for Toxic, but she’d been assigned to handle my medical treatment since she was supposed to be the best. And Rittenhouse was one of Toxic’s smaller medical research facilities located in Bethesda, Maryland. That much I knew.

“Would you like to see TI-912?” the Warden asked Mac.

“Yes!” Mac sounded giddy now. Uneasiness crawled over my skin like a spider. I didn’t like his tone or the excitement radiating from his thoughts.

I heard Mac and the Warden board the train.
Muffled words followed by uneasy laughter filled the station. What was so funny? Nothing about this situation seemed funny. Maybe if I weren’t pressed against a filthy, damp wall, hiding with the rats, I would have gotten the joke. I concentrated on my auditory senses, straining to hear the low conversation taking place above.

“Information is not the only way you are useful to us,” Mac was saying.

I assumed he was talking to the prisoner. He got no response.

“What do you have planned for our guest?” the Warden asked.

“Research. I think this just might be the breakthrough we need.” Mac’s glee was palpable; the raw desire dripping from his words tasted sour and sickened my stomach.

This wasn’t the Mac I knew, not even the one who lied and kept secrets from me.
This Mac radiated a feverish, almost manic desire for......something. Desire to understand what was going on and revulsion over Mac’s intensity warred in my mind. Curiosity won out. I plunged into his head. Maybe it was my lack of familiarity with his brain patterns – it had been years since I invaded his thoughts – or his constant vigilance, or even my instructions on blocking mental intrusions, but I couldn’t penetrate his barriers. His thoughts were impossible for me to read, but his feelings were so strong, they sucked me in. Triumph. Determination. Vindication. Relief. I nearly gagged.

“I will let you be on your way,” Mac told the Warden.
“Inform me once you have made the delivery.”

“Yes, Director.”

One set of footsteps exited on to the platform. The train doors slid shut with a soft whoosh. I remained glued to the dirty tunnel wall, vaguely aware that Erik’s coat was likely covered in grime. I felt the ridiculous urge to apologize for ruining it.

The sound of the train coming to life squashed any further thoughts of ruined clothing.
I felt rather than heard Mac’s retreat from the platform.

Neither Erik nor I moved, even once the only sound in the station was deafening silence.
I tracked Mac using my mind, finally exhaling when I no longer felt his presence.

“He’s gone,”
I sent Erik.

“You sure?”

“Positive. I can’t feel him anymore.”

Tentatively, Erik crept forward.
He held up a hand to signal that I should wait when I tried to follow. He walked on his toes, making virtually no noise. The station seemed darker than it had before the train came. My eyes adjusted quickly, though, and I could make out Erik’s form as he jumped, grabbed the platform edge, and pulled himself up in one swift motion. Even though I was confident that Mac was gone, I still held my breath when Erik vanished from sight.

Just when I had convinced myself something had happened to him, Erik called to me.
“All clear.”

I blew out a long exhale.
Close one. Anyone else I could have handled. Mac was a different story entirely. And lately he hadn’t been in an exceptionally forgiving mood.

I jogged to where Erik leaned over the platform, arms extended to help me up.
His fingers were slick and I worried he wouldn’t be able to get a firm grip. He hauled me easily over the edge, though.

“That was close,”
Erik sent.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

As we retraced our steps to the surface, my mind wandered to the conversation between Mac and Warden Arnouse. It didn’t make any sense. Admittedly, I didn’t know all that much about the Agency’s prisons or what type of research took place at Rittenhouse. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t actually know much about the Agency I worked for in general. I thought being a part of the McDonough family made me privy to the inner workings of Toxic and agency politics. Apparently, I was wrong. None of our dinner table conversations had centered on prisoners or using them for human guinea pigs. The thought made me shudder. What sort of research was the Agency conducting that they needed human test subjects?

“When Mac said they were going to use the prisoner for research, what did he mean?”
I asked Erik.

“You probably don’t want to know,”
Erik sent back, his grip on my hand tightening.

That was what I was afraid of.
But I did want to know. I hated how ignorant I was. For years, I had thought Toxic did great things for the Talented. Protected our rights. Gave us jobs. And even more importantly, they protected the entire country from threats. But at what cost?

“Does the Agency use human test subjects a lot?”
I asked as we started up the first escalator.

Erik seemed conflicted, like he wasn’t sure how much he should say.

“Does the Agency use human test subjects?”
I repeated, growing angry at the thought that maybe I was the only one that didn’t know the dirty little secret.

“I don’t know for sure,
Tals. Some people think that they do. Some people think that the School and Toxic are just one big experiment. Let’s just say that it doesn’t surprise me that they are sending a prisoner to a research facility.”

I didn’t like his answer.
I wanted Erik to be as appalled as I was. The fact that he wasn’t sent Crane’s words flying through my mind.
You have no idea what your Agency does to innocent people.

“Conditions at the prisons, particularly Tramblewood, are not good.
I’ve heard that some inmates go crazy after years without sunlight and proper nutrition. The Agency may be conducting a study on the long term effects of incarceration.”

“Maybe,”
I replied, noncommittally. I knew Erik meant to comfort me by suggesting a benign alternative to the nightmarish alternatives parading through my thoughts, and I might have bought it if I hadn’t been absorbing Mac’s feelings. Whatever research Mac had planned for TI-912 was serious, vital to the Agency even.

By the time we made it back to the gate, the adrenaline rush that came with our near miss was gone, replaced by confusion and frustration.
I would find out what Mac was up to. I just had to wait until his guard was down. Then I could infiltrate his thoughts. In theory, it should be easy. In practice, I doubted it would be.