The Forbidden Trilogy (30 page)

Lucy frowned. "You mean that sorry excuse for a bunker
with all the
Men in Black
wannabes? No way." Had Headmaster Higgins
become someone's puppet?

Speak of the devil. The headmaster himself walked by,
catching Lucy's eye as he did.

She shoved the guard aside, who stumbled in surprise.
"What's going on, Headmaster? Why can't we talk to you? Why the food
change and all the guards?"

The headmaster fidgeted with his briefcase. His normally
impeccably tailored suit was wrinkled and frumpy. Deep lines marred the dark
skin of his face, and dark bags hung under his eyes.

"I can't talk about it, Lucy, I'm sorry." He
wasn't lying. Whatever he meant by "can't" was truth to him.
"Just do what they say." He walked away, leaving them surrounded by
angry guards.

Luke dragged her out and steered her toward their dorm room,
located in another mansion on campus, built in similar style to the
headmaster's offices but on a smaller scale. "Well?"

"He's not lying. And he's in trouble. Something really
bad is happe—"

A voice erupted from the loudspeaker. "ATTENTION
STUDENTS. CURFEW IS NOW 9 P.M. BE IN YOUR DORMS BY 9 P.M."

Luke stared at the sky as though the man behind the voice
would magically appear there. "That was succinct."

"Yeah. Let's get out of here. We need to start thinking
of a plan."

***

The twins shared a suite on the floor lovingly referred to
as the Creepy Crawly Ward. They'd just made it to their door when two of the
younger students, a freshman and a sophomore, approached them.

Lucy couldn't remember their names or para-powers, but like
all the Rent-A-Kids, she did recognize them from around campus.

"Luke, Lucy, I'm glad we caught you. Can we talk in
your room?"

Luke raised an eyebrow. Lucy shrugged. They opened their
door and let the boys into their spacious common room.

Luke flopped into a recliner and gestured to the overstuffed
couch. "You guys can sit. What's up?"

The freshman shook his head once and stood in the middle of
the modest room, twitching as though a bug had crawled up his pants. His friend
stood next to him with his eyes shut and lips pressed into a tight line.

Lucy leaned against the couch and cleared Luke's dirty
clothes off it, but didn't sit down. Her stomach grumbled loud enough for the
whole room to hear.

The freshman spoke to the floor. "I'm Gary. This is
Greg. Umm... well, a few of us were wondering... since, like, you were, like,
best friends with Sam—you know, the girl who escaped—that maybe you'd like to
join us in a Freedom Fighter meeting tonight." Only after he'd gotten all
those painful words out did he finally attempt eye contact, albeit briefly.

Luke's face hardened and he shot Lucy a warning look.

She nodded. Best play it safe. "You know our rooms,
everyone's
rooms
, are under surveillance."

The boy smiled and nodded to his friend. "Greg disrupts
electrical waves and can manipulate surveillance equipment. Right now, anyone
listening will hear a loop of silence until we're done. They'll also see an
empty room."

Lucy was impressed despite herself. "What are the
Freedom Fighters?"

Gary's voice dropped to a barely perceptible whisper.
"A group of students are coming together to, you know, fight back, and...
escape."

The last word floated on the air so gently, Lucy wasn't sure
whether she'd really heard it or only imagined it. How could they possibly
escape with the campus under heightened security? If it was impossible before
Sam and Drake got away, it was even less likely now. No, they weren't stupid
enough to get involved in something that crazy. It would be suicide.

The boy's brown eyes turned into saucers, pleading with
Lucy. "Will you at least come to the meeting and see what it's
about?"

She looked at Luke, whose face had an odd expression of rage
and mania. Did he
want
to do this?
Not happening. No way, no how.
She crossed her arms and held her ground.

Which was why she was so surprised when later that night she
found herself sitting in the middle of a group of Freedom Fighters planning
their great escape.
Suicide mission indeed.

The police station did not match the image I'd conjured from
my mind. Maybe too many
Law & Order
reruns had corrupted me. The
attractive Spanish style structure with warm honey tones reminded me more of a
country club.

Brad took the lead when we walked in, telling the clerk whom
we were there to see. Drake and I sat on a bench against the wall and waited.

'Are you nervous?'
he asked.

"Yes. What if they don't believe us? What if they
lock us up?"

He squeezed my hand.
'Even if they don't believe us, we
aren't committing any crimes. Don't worry, we'll be fine.'

Brad sat down on the other side of me, sandwiching me
between the two of them. "My contact is on the phone right now. It'll be a
few minutes."

I clutched at my purse. Despite the class of the building,
the police station still teemed with some interesting characters.

A guy dressed as an attractive woman sat across from us,
tapping his—her?—foot impatiently and holding a bag to his chest.

A woman wearing nothing but an elastic, red body suit, with
so many holes it revealed more than it covered, walked by in handcuffs,
escorted by a young officer in uniform. She stumbled on her stilettos, but I
caught her arm and helped her back up.

She gave me a blank, glassy-eyed stare.
'Need some...
gotta get some... body aches... hurts... burning... pain... need to get out of
here....'

Her sunken cheeks and emaciated form made me shudder.
Before, I might have passed judgment, but now I understood what it was like to
come off something like that. Granted, my addiction had been forced on me, but
detox would have been very hard if I'd had access to the drugs my body craved.

"Oh shit!" The guys exclaimed in unison. Two elbows
jabbed me at the same time.

"Hey, watch it!"

Drake's face fell. "Look at the television, Sam. We've
got to get out of here."

I looked, and immediately wished I hadn't. My face stared
back at me from a picture taken at Rent-A-Kid earlier that year. A perky
newscaster smiled as she read from the teleprompter. "Sam is a troubled
runaway who escaped from an institution early last week, and is mentally
unstable, delusional, and considered dangerous. She is in need of medication
and treatment immediately. If you see her, please call this hotline at
1-800-555-1211. There is a $10,000 reward for any leads that result in her
apprehension."

Drake grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the building. The
Southern California heat hit me hard after being in the air-conditioned office.
My stomach lurched, and I spun toward the manicured lawns to empty it.
God,
I hate throwing up.

Brad cleared this throat. "We've got to go. Can you
walk? We need to get to the car before anyone sees you."

***

I paid little attention to the rest of the world as we
drove. My mind went numb. Too much had already happened that day; I just
couldn't think about another thing. I needed a bath, a toothbrush and a nap.

Which is why I didn't sense the intruder when we pulled into
the carport at Brad's apartment.

Or when we walked upstairs to his unit.

The broken-in door got my attention though.

***

Drake immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me from
the apartment with his body. He spoke to Brad through clenched teeth, "Get
her out of here!"

'Go back to the car with Brad. Get as far away as you
can. I'll contact you when it's safe.'

I grabbed his arm and shook off Brad, who was trying to lead
me back down the stairs.
"Come with us. I don't want you going in there
alone, Drake. Please!"

'I'll be fine, but I can't focus if I'm worried about you
and our baby.'

Glass shattered in the apartment. I jumped and nearly fell
off the stair. My heart beat through my chest, and I wrapped my free hand
protectively around my stomach.

Drake needed me, even if he didn't see it. If we combined
our powers, we could control whoever was in the apartment without anyone
getting hurt. He didn't have to do it alone.

No!
I didn't want to default to using mind control.
The ethics may have gotten murky after my fight with Drake, and I wasn't ready
to swear it off entirely, but using that power made me feel sick—especially
after what had happened at the beach with Kylie.

Instead, I linked to the mind of the person in the
apartment.

It was like hitting a brick wall. The impact physically
rocked me, causing my foot to slip on the stair behind me.

Brad caught me around the waist. "Careful there."

"Thanks." The handrail became my lifeline as I
steadied myself and tried to figure out why my powers weren't working.

Brad stood behind me, his hand still on the small of my back
in case I decided to forget how to stand again. His thoughts washed over me.
'Wish
I had powers... useless here... can't even help with the story... least she
didn't fall....'

My powers weren't the problem; it was the person in the
house. Were they immune to me? That had never happened before.

"Drake, I can't read his mind. It's like trying to
walk through a wall."

'I can't use my mind control on him either."

My stomach dropped.
"You tried mind control?"

'Of course! I wasn't going to risk anyone's safety if I
didn't have to.'

His argument made sense, but still....

"What are we going to do now?"

'
We
aren't going to do anything.
I'm
going
to go in there and beat the shit out of this guy while Brad takes you somewhere
safe.'

"I'm not loving this plan."

'Can you think of a better one?'

I couldn't and he knew it, so I reluctantly followed Brad
down the stairs and watched the apartment swallow Drake.

My resolve to do the smart thing lasted all of sixty
seconds. As soon as I heard screams and crashing sounds, I lost it and ran back
to the stairs.

Brad chased me. "Hey, Sam, you can't go in there!"

I rushed up the steps. "I can't let him do this alone
either. What if there's more than one person? What if they're armed?"

"Yeah, what if? And how will you stop them, especially
if your powers don't work?"

"The old fashioned way," I said.

"What's that?"

We stood at the door. I looked at Brad. "I'll throw
something at their head."

"Great. And here I thought we were walking into a fight
unprepared."

I ignored his sarcasm and peeked into the apartment.
Upturned furniture littered the floor like a child's playhouse, but no Drake.
Someone grunted, followed by a loud thud.

"They're in your room." I headed down the small
hallway. On the way, I picked up an upturned lampstand, minus the lampshade.

"That's your big plan? Hit the bad guy in the head with
a lampstand?"

"Yes, this is my big plan. At least I have a
plan!"

Brad looked around and found a baseball bat that had fallen
out of the closet. "My plan." He swung the bat around.

I nodded, and we approached his bedroom.

"Drake, we're in the hall. Are you okay?"

Nothing.

"Drake?"

"He's not responding to me. What do we do?"

Brad looked at me, then the door. His brown eyes turned to
small slits. "Stand back."

He made a loud "Hiya!" sound and crashed through
the door swinging his bat.

I flanked his side, straining to see inside the tiny room.

He made contact with something that sounded like a
watermelon.

My stomach quivered in protest, given that Brad didn't tend
to keep watermelons in his bedroom. I didn't want to see, but had to look.

Drake and Brad stood over a body whose head had seen better
days. His face was an unrecognizable mess of purple and blue lumps with a split
lip and gash in his cheek oozing blood.

I rushed to Drake, who had a swollen eye and bloody lip, but
otherwise looked okay. "Any serious injuries?"

"None for me. He's not so lucky." He wrapped his
arms around me, and I leaned into him.

"Is he dead?"

Brad checked his pulse. "No. Heart's still working.
What do we do with him?"

Drake untangled himself from me and searched the man's body.
"We need to figure out who this guy is and who he's working for."

"Is there really any question about who he works
for?" Who else but Rent-A-Kid would even have us on their radar, let alone
want us dead? "Why didn't our powers work on him?"

The body moved, then groaned. The guys jumped back. Brad
raised his bat.

I formed a mental link with his mind again. This time, no
brick walls.
'Pain... shit... gonna be busted....'
And more of the same.
People in a lot of pain were often hard to read, less coherent and more focused
on... well, the pain.

"I'm in his mind. His defenses are down."

Drake made eye contact with me. "We need to find out
what he knows, and we need to do it quick. Others might come looking for
him."

Crap. How was I supposed to take a moral stand against this
power when there were so many exceptions?

Drake and I linked, and our powers amplified. Heat rushed
through my body as we slipped into our attacker's mind.

Drake gave the guy a command.
'You will tell us
everything you know about who sent you and why.'

The man refused to talk, or even think, about the
information we needed. He shouldn't have been able to resist Drake's
persuasion.