The Forbidden Trilogy (33 page)

He put his mug down and pulled up his flannel shirt,
revealing a fairly toned stomach for an old guy—and a nasty, familiar-looking
scar.

"You were shot." I rubbed the still-healing bullet
wound on my own arm.

Brad's eyebrows shot up. He'd obviously never heard this
story.

I asked the question I already knew the answer to.
"What story were you working on?"

He looked me straight in the eyes. "I'd met some very
powerful people who, in exchange for not having their names plastered all over
national headlines, offered me an interesting story about kids with paranormal
abilities who are rented out as spies."

My mouth dried up in an instant. I couldn't swallow. I
grabbed my water and chugged it. Clients who broke Rent-A-Kid's confidentiality
agreement faced serious harm. Though, it did make sense that someone would
spill the beans eventually—especially if a famous reporter had serious dirt on
them, and they needed to shine the spotlight on an even bigger story to protect
themselves.

Bernard continued, "Of course, I didn't believe them at
first. They would have said or done anything to keep me from printing what I
knew about them. But they had proof. They'd kept videos, pictures, and other
records of the kids they hired. I looked through it all and.... What if it was
true? The evidence was damning, but that could have been faked. So they agreed
to hire a kid spy and let me see the powers firsthand."

I perked up. He'd met someone from my school? "How long
ago was this?"

"Oh, I don't know, eighteen years ago. I met a girl who
could move objects with her mind. I wouldn't have believed it, but I witnessed
it with my own eyes. I started asking around, using contacts to dig up dirt on
other wealthy and powerful members of our society. Not everyone used this
service, but I found two more who had and were willing to trade information to
keep me quiet.

"I can only assume I was getting too close, because one
day my house was robbed of all my research, and I was shot and left for dead.
On that same day, someone killed all three of my contacts. It took me months to
recover physically. I lost the trail and could never figure out how to pick it
back up. After that, I tried going back into journalism, but had lost the
appetite for it. That's when I started teaching. So yes, Sam, I believe
you."

I exhaled hard, expelling the pent-up pressure in my lungs
in one great whoosh. I didn't know what I had expected from the professor, but
this punched me in the gut.

Drake shifted on the couch. "Maybe coming here was a
bad idea. If you're already on their radar, we could be putting you in a lot of
danger."

"I'm tired of hiding. This is the story that got away,
and I'll be damned if I'm going to let it get away again. I'll help you kids as
much as I can. Consider this your home while we figure out what to do next. I
still have some powerful connections here and there. Sam, if you'd like, I can
take a sample of your hair and find out what drugs you were given."

"That'd be great. I'm over the worst of it, but I hate
not knowing what was done to me. This test... it's confidential, right?"

"Yes, your identity will be protected."

Bernard went over to his desk and pulled out a small vial.

I plucked a few hairs from the root and handed them over.

He slipped them into the vial and filled out a form.
"I'll have these picked up right away. We should have an answer within a
day or two."

He looked at Brad. "And you, what have you done with
your writing career since last we spoke?"

Brad found something fascinating to stare at on his shoe.
"Been trying to carve a niche for myself in journalism, like you taught
me. It's not an easy world to break into."

How sad for him to feel disgraced in front of his mentor
,
I thought. "Brad does have a thriving blog, though, and he's using that to
get our story out. He's going to be famous soon."

Brad smiled at me as his body relaxed.

"I may be an old man, but even I know the internet is
quickly replacing print media. Hell, it's replacing print everything. I'm proud
of you for sticking with it, Brad. Let's take a look at this blog of yours and
see what we can do to spice it up. It's time I got my story out there
too."

Brad beamed at the professor and grabbed his computer bag.
They went to the dining room table next to the living room and sat
shoulder-to-shoulder.

Bernard shouted back without turning to us. "Spare
rooms are down the hall and to the right. Bathroom is on the left. Make
yourself comfortable. Food's in the kitchen."

I stood and stretched. "Thank you."

His only response was a grunt as he focused on Brad's
articles.

***

After two days with the professor, I knew my instincts had
been correct. Not only was he helpful to Brad and his blogging ambitions, but
he and I enjoyed long talks about ethics and the world of para-powers.

"So, you don't think powers are inherently right or
wrong?" The mug warmed my hands, and the tea did the same for my insides.

In a look that I had come to recognize as his "thinking
face," Bernard's eyes glazed over. "No, I don't. However these powers
came to be, they are tools like any other."

Father Patrick had said much the same to Drake, I knew. I
looked forward to meeting the man who had been like a father to him. When Drake
told us of the priest's property and his willingness to help us, it changed
everything. We now had a real chance to rescue my friends.

I took a sip of my tea and savored the spices on my tongue
before I responded. "Criminals often argue that they are born that
way—sociopaths and serial killers in particular. By your reasoning, anyone without
a conscience can do whatever they please, right?"

"I'm not suggesting a moral free-for-all just because
you have paranormal abilities. I am suggesting that the power of mind control
is not inherently evil, as you seem to believe. There are situations when it
can be used for good."

"But who decides what's good and what's not? Doesn't
everyone think they are on the side of good, that their actions can be
justified? How will we survive as a society if we don't have clearly defined
rules about para-powers, especially if me and my friends are indicative of a
new trend in human evolution?"

Brad ran into the living room waving around his laptop.
"Hey guys, my numbers are way up! Sam, I got 500 hits yesterday from our
interview. Lots of comments too. Most people think it's some fiction thing, but
at least they're reading. I think you're right—we should do a vlog too. You and
Drake would be very convincing on video."

I smiled, proud my new friend was finding success.
"Right now?"

He grinned like a kid in a candy shop. "If you don't
mind."

"Sure, let me just shower and put on some make-up. If
this does go viral, I don't want to look like road kill."

***

The hot water scalded my body, turning my pale skin red.
Voices from the past collided in my mind as I considered what I would say in
Brad's video. Thoughts of trusted teachers, of past clients, of the students
and their memories, rolled through my brain like tumbleweeds in a windstorm.
Gar
and Ana. Dead. Serena and Tommy, two children whose lives had been ruined because
of me.

Professor Shaw—Bernard—had nearly died trying to uncover the
truth about Rent-A-Kid. They'd kidnapped Drake. They'd impregnated me against
my will, which felt like a form of rape... maybe worse. The violation weighed
heavy on me, my only consolation being the connection Drake and I had formed.

However it happened, this baby belonged to us. But what
about all the other girls who were used in this way and died because of it?

It would be hard to get people to believe, but we had to
find a way to make them listen. If only Drake and I had more obvious powers,
which we could showcase on film. But then, with editing and special effects,
nearly anything could be faked.

Maybe we could show off Drake's strength?
So much power,
physically and mentally, in one person.
Despite the heat, my body broke out
in goosebumps, and I shivered.

Once my fingers and feet had pruned, I shut off the water
and stepped out of the steamy shower. I wiped down the mirror and wrapped a
towel around my body, my swollen belly exposed through the slit. I stared at
myself in the mirror.

Were the eyes truly windows to the soul, as people said?
What did mine say about me?

The light purple crescent moons under my bloodshot eyes said
I needed more sleep, at least. I pulled my brush from my overnight bag and ran
it through my long wet hair, then pulled out a blow dryer and did my best to
make it look presentable.

The red blouse and black slacks for my film debut draped
over the toilet. The buttons on the pants almost didn't snap; it would be time
for new clothes soon.

Lost in thought, I didn't see Brad until I smacked into him
and dropped my bag. "Oh, sorry!"

He picked it up before I could. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Feel better after a shower."

"You looked a million miles away, and sad. But... also
beautiful. I mean, the red, it's a good color on you. It'll look good on film.
So, um, what's up?"

"Just thinking about everything. Worried."

He put his hand on my arm, his body heat fighting the chill
on my skin.

"The interview can wait, if you want." His mouth
turned down in worry.

"No, it's okay. I'm—"

Pain stole my words from me.

I doubled over, clutching my belly even though it felt as if
knives had impaled my head. Distant eyes bored into me. Someone else's
consciousness moved into my mind, seeing into my life.

I screamed and squeezed my eyes shut, pushing back against
the invader.

Hands on me. Voices around me.

Couldn't focus. Couldn't respond. Couldn't think.

Can only fight.

"You have to be prepared for anything." Mr.
Lancaster walked up and down the aisles and made eye contact with each person.
"If you depend too much on your power, that power becomes a liability. The
key to success is adaptability and improvisation. That is what we will be
practicing today."

Lucy wondered if her teacher knew about the problems kids
had been having with their powers. His lesson seemed awfully timely.

After Mr. Lancaster walked past her row, a paper airplane
hit Lucy in the back of the head. She turned to see Darren smile impishly at
her and float the airplane back to his own desk. He mouthed, "Sorry."

Before Lucy could respond, Mary leaned over and whispered,
"I know about your little Freedom Fighters. You guys think you're so cool
with your secret meetings, but you're all idiots if you think you can take on
Rent-A-Kid. It's only a matter of time before you get caught."

Lucy had mixed feelings herself about their success, but
hearing Mary's attack brought out her mama bear instincts. "You shallow,
sex-obsessed twit, you know nothing about—"

"Lucy, care to share with the rest of the class?"
Mr. Lancaster and everyone in fifth period stared at her.

"No, I'm sorry."

"Then please keep your mouth closed and your ears open
while I'm talking. Someday, this just might save your life."

"Yes, sir."

Mary snickered beside her, and Lucy wanted to claw her eyes
out. Instead, she kept her head forward and her ears, as Mr. Lancaster said,
open.

"Here's the scenario." The teacher walked to the
whiteboard and drew the layout of a building. "There are a group of
innocent people in a building, and terrorists are holding them at gunpoint.
Without using powers, how would you get in and save them? You can use any
technology or weapons you can think of, just no powers."

Willy raised his hand, and the class groaned collectively.

"Yes, Willy."

He pushed his glasses up onto his nose and answered in his
I-know-more-than-all-of-you-combined-and-isn't-this-just-so-obvious voice.
"This is simple, Mr. Lancaster. I'd hack into the camera surveillance and
reroute the feed so they didn't see me sneak in. Then I'd memorize their
positions, throw a flash grenade to blind everyone, and proceed to shoot every
terrorist from memory, starting with the one closest to the victims."

"Willy, you really need a girlfriend, my boy." Mr.
Lancaster ruffled Willy's mop of red hair affectionately and continued pacing
the room. "Anyone else?"

Darren raised his hand. "A peaceful outcome would be
best for all parties. The terrorists presumably want something, so I'd find out
what and try to negotiate. That way, no one gets hurt."

Lucy didn't disagree with Willy or Darren, but believed both
had underestimated the enemy in this scenario.

Mr. Lancaster pointed to Mary. "What about you, how
would you handle it?"

All the guys in the room zoomed in on the blond who played
with her long hair and looked slightly confused. "Um... well, I would do
something to, you know, get their attention. I mean, my powers work all the
time. Why would they stop working? This doesn't make sense. Even if I lost my
power... well, look at me." She gestured to her tight dress and curvy
figure. "I'd just seduce them into surrendering."

Lucy rolled her eyes, as did every other female in the room.
The men were too entranced to think clearly.

The question troubled Lucy, who didn't know how she would
handle the situation even with her power. Detecting lies could come in handy
with hostage negotiation. She'd be able to tell whether they lied about
releasing the prisoners.  As for a full-on attack, what would she do?

She had an idea. "Mr. Lancaster?"

"Yes, Lucy."

"I think everyone had good ideas." She shot a
glance at Mary. "Well, almost everyone. But I don't think it would be that
simple. We'd have to work as a team to succeed. Alone, we'd each just
fail."