Legacy (2 page)

Actually, since I could no longer talk, Trevor would have to speak for both of us.

Seth’s annoyance came through to me loudly—rust-pink and grating. Nothing kept out other people’s thoughts—except distance. I always heard what other people thought around me, even when I didn’t want to.

Seth’s appearance still didn’t match his mental presence to me. I’d never pictured him with this mane of red-gold hair. He kept it pulled back in a ponytail because he hadn’t had it cut in years—having people in physical contact made them excruciatingly loud to him. It’d actually hurt Seth to get a haircut.

“Hey, Seth.” Trevor spoke as though everything was normal.

Seth’s thoughts flashed through all the things wrong with this situation.
Why are they taking a car without permission and sneaking out? They KNOW Isaiah’s killing every G-positive he can find! And Maddie’s probably at the top of his killing “to-do” list.

“Rachel said he was down near Atlanta this afternoon.” Trevor knew that Seth would understand who
he
was. “It’s safe.”

Rachel could track Isaiah better than the other RVs could. We’d figured a way for me to share my memories of him to strengthen her remote viewing ability. Once she knew a person or object, she could locate it anywhere on the planet. I sometimes wondered how far into outer space she might be able to find things.

Tell Seth to get out of the way right now,
I told Trevor,
or I’m dropping the shield.
We were busted, but we could still do what we needed to before dealing with Williamson.

“Seth, she’s going to drop the shield if you don’t stand back.” Trevor’s voice held a you-know-what-she’s-like tone. He didn’t enjoy being in the middle of our bickering, but Seth annoyed me like the older brother I’d never had—or wanted.

Seth’s shock splashed over me, tinged with annoyance and several really bad words. Dropping the shield wouldn’t physically injure him, but my minder-loud thoughts would hurt as though hell itself had set up shop between his ears. He quickly backed out of the car’s way. His accusatory mental presence followed us as we drove away and dark-yellow guilt seeped through me.

Crap
.

Seth had enough pain in his head without me adding to it. Sensing everyone’s final, terrified thoughts as they’d died in the massacre a few months ago had traumatized him.

We keyed in the code to open the front gate. It only took a few minutes to drive out to North Conway. I kept a constant mental scan of the area—alert for ambushes, people who hated us, or traces of Isaiah’s mental presence. Once we entered town, the mental babble increased and I flitted from mind to mind, listening for those who wanted to harm us.

—
think he’s cheating on me—

—
more ketchup!

—
sick of hearing about her boyfriend problems. She should just dump him and—

—
kid whines one more time about the damn ketchup, I’m feeding him to the damn wolverines—

—
this dress make me look fat? I feel—

—
want to get home and have a beer—

—
she looks kinda heavy in that dress—

Paranoid behavior? I wish. It’s not paranoia if people really
do
want to kill you.

We found the Rite-Aid, relieved that it was still open. Trevor wrapped invisible arms around me as I slid out of the driver’s door behind him. Someone might shoot at us from beyond my mental range so we had to be careful. The anxiety made our muscles hum with a twitchy, nervous energy as we walked together to the front door of the store.

At least we could do that now—my limp was finally gone. One of the strokes Isaiah had caused had damaged my motor cortex so I’d been through painfully boring physical therapy to re-train my brain to control my left leg. Williamson had paid the physical therapist double her rate and had told Cecelia to charm her to forget anything strange that she’d seen—particularly my less-than-traditional way of talking into people’s heads. We didn’t want other people to find out about all of the unusual stuff up at Ganzfield. If word got out that a bunch of teenagers with super-powers were training up here, it would be bad.

Witch-hunt bad.

I felt Trevor’s hand on my shoulder, warm and reassuring, as we stepped into the overly-bright fluorescent light and scanned the signs at the ends of the aisles. The Rite-Aid was nearly empty. It was almost 9 p.m. and they’d be closing soon.

We found the right aisle: Family Planning. I looked at the various products, totally unsure which one we needed. Trevor had even less of a clue than I did. I finally grabbed a purple and white box and we headed up to the checkout.

The blue-aproned woman behind the counter was probably in her sixties—grandmotherly and stern with short, salt-and-pepper hair and narrow-lensed glasses. She looked at Trevor and me, two clearly-anxious teenagers, and then down at the sole item we were purchasing.

A home pregnancy test.

Her mind filled with the obvious conclusion and I felt my whole face flush crimson. She took the cash from my hand. I now had a credit card tied to my ridiculous new bank account, but I didn’t want a paper trail for this particular purchase.

The cashier looked critically at Trevor, internally debated whether or not to say something, and then let it out. “I hope you plan to marry her.”

I closed my eyes and counted to ten slowly, trying to ignore this stranger’s unspoken assumptions. This was
so
not her business.

Trevor’s face was serious. “Absolutely.” In a different situation, I know he would’ve laughed.

I held the little plastic shopping bag close as we headed to the car, checking again for people trying to kill us. Driving back, I felt a twitchy tension, like little wild birds under my skin. My hands opened and closed on the box under the thin skin of plastic. The gate closed behind us.

You are SO busted.

I dropped my shield to yell at Seth, annoyed that he’d prudently gotten far enough away that my thoughts wouldn’t hurt him.
You are such a JERK! You know we wouldn’t leave Ganzfield if it wasn’t important!

What did you think was so impor—

I still had the pregnancy test in my hands, and now Seth could hear my thoughts.

WHAT? HOLY—

Just SHUT UP! It’s not what you think.
I pushed up the shield again, feeling a painful sinking in my gut. There really was only one thing he didn’t know now, but protecting that last secret was important.

Crap.

Seth would narc about this, too. Although Williamson would know even if Seth didn’t actively tell him. Since Seth couldn’t shield, his thoughts were open to all the other minders. Which meant…

Crap, crap, crap.

Trevor drove the car back to the barn as the last of the day’s light faded. I didn’t feel Williamson’s mind as we rolled past the main building. No light came from his office windows—he must’ve gone to bed early. Would he come to the church as soon as Seth blabbed or wait until morning?

Ugh.

Trevor closed and latched the barn doors. I quickly checked the minds inside Blake House. In the infirmary, Morris’s thoughts felt cool and untroubled as he considered a new, experimental method to subtly adjust the shape of the human eye with his healing ability. If it worked, none of us would need glasses or contact lenses anymore. Cool, but unimportant right now.

I listened for two specific minds. I couldn’t sense Rachel’s, but she tended to go to sleep early these days. As for my mom—I
really
had to make sure I didn’t attract her notice in the next few minutes.

At the locked door, I tried to remember someone else’s code for the new security system. I’d picked up several telepathically, but I was too stressed to recall any of them at the moment. I just used my own, which meant the other minders would know I’d been here tonight. Hopefully, they wouldn’t put the pieces together immediately.

I stepped lightly, trying to keep the old stairs from creaking. Trevor stayed by the door, visualizing heavyset people doing the dance moves to “YMCA.” I suppressed a snort. Yeah, that’d keep the other minders from focusing into his thoughts. I wished I could block that particular image, as well.

Several people watched TV up in the attic common room, and an air conditioner hummed annoyingly at the top of the stairs. I tiptoed past my mom’s door, hearing her inside as she silently read a neurology book. I paused at the room I’d once shared with Rachel and Hannah. Hannah now had her own room down the hall. Even with the new arrivals in the past few months, more than a few empty beds remained in Blake House.

Whether Rachel was really asleep or just not here didn’t matter. I opened the door, holding the weight up by the knob—I had experience keeping this particular door from creaking. Rachel lay curled in bed, her arms around her pillow.

I quietly set the pregnancy test box on her bedside table, and then slipped back out of the room.

CHAPTER 2

Rachel’s life kinda sucked right now.

Her boyfriend, Sean, had been killed on a mission with us back in March. Grief, pain, and anger kicked at her nonstop from under her own skin. I felt sick around her—her emotions spilled into me, making me want to scream and cry, or throw up, or hit something and curl up in a tiny ball. Spending time with her was a form of penance—I’d survived when Sean hadn’t. If I hadn’t gone after Isaiah, and if Trevor hadn’t followed me, no one would’ve been shooting. Sean wouldn’t have stuck his head over that wall and become a target.

A casualty.

Thoughts like this sometimes flashed through Rachel’s mind when she looked at me, but our friendship had survived because I had something she wanted: I could project memories of Sean’s thoughts and feelings to her. She wanted to hear them—needed to know all of the tender details. I’d tried to avoid invading their privacy when they were together, but I’d still picked up an awful lot telepathically just from being near them.

I usually visited her in the evenings—Rachel typically skipped dinner and lay in her dusky room, feeling alone and miserable. Hannah checked in every morning, and Cecelia came from time to time as well. Both were frustrated by Rachel’s refusal to let them use their abilities to help her, but she wanted to stay in her pain. She knew Sean wasn’t out there beyond it.

But earlier tonight, Rachel had gone to the dining hall. Several people splashed yellow surprise at her arrival—she hadn’t gone to dinner there in months. She’d joined Cecelia at one of the tables by the windows.

Trevor and I exchanged a glance.
Did she finally let Hannah and Cecelia help her?

I shook my head.
Doubtful. I can still feel so much pain coming from her.
But she no longer felt nauseous. Instead, she had a sudden, intense craving for the taste of oranges. It was as though the sick feeling had switched off in favor of the craving.

The two words—sickness and craving—bounced through my brain, landing on a single connector between them. My hand flew up to cover my gasp.

Holy crap!
Pregnant?

Next to me, Trevor choked on a bite of manicotti.
WHAT?
He stared at Rachel for a stricken moment and then met my eyes.

I put a hand around his neck and pulled a tight mental shield around us.
I’m not sure. If she is, she’s not thinking about it.
Trevor’s distress was more than concern for our friend; unplanned teen pregnancy was an emotional issue for him—he was the son of a teen mom himself.

How could she not know?

She’s been so upset. It’s not like any of us have experience with this stuff. Geez, most of what I know about teen pregnancy I learned from seeing “Juno” a couple of years back.

What are you going to do?

I have no idea.
Just bringing it up wouldn’t be helpful. I tried to give Rachel the illusion that I didn’t know about the physical side of the relationship she and Sean had shared.

Can you talk to her?

I winced as I imagined
that
awkward conversation, and then shook my head.
Anything I said would only freak her out.
And she needs to know for sure.

Could one of the healers—?

Probably.
I frowned.
But she’s so…having one of them examine her…it’d feel like a violation of her privacy. Rachel needs a way to find out that doesn’t tip off anyone else.

Oops.

I’d just shared my suspicions with Trevor, but he’d keep Rachel’s secrets. He’d been doing that before I’d even met him.

Would Williamson let us borrow the car?
We could pick up one of those over-the-counter tests for her in town.

I shook my head.
I can’t ask. He’ll see the reason in my thoughts. We can’t blab this to all the other minders.

We could order something online…or with our weekly food pick-up, but that would take days. We can’t keep this secret for long.

So Trevor and I had stolen the car and gone to the drugstore.

As we walked back to our church—our little home—we considered the possible fallout.
If only Seth hadn’t intercepted us!
Now he knew we’d snuck out and that we’d bought a pregnancy test. Not only did he assume it was for me, he’d tell Williamson and the other new minder.