The Forbidden Trilogy (73 page)

Her heart skipped a beat. "I can't tell them."

"Why not?"

"They wouldn't understand it, or me, or why I need it.
They'd want to test it or get rid of it or— "

"Relax. No one is going to take it from you. But you
have to consider Hunter's safety, your brother's safety."

Now, indignation.
I'm just a veritable plethora of
emotions, aren't I?
"I do."

"Then tell them."

Stubbornness. "I can't."

"You won't!" roared Mr. K, with much more power
than he'd ever spoken before. His branches stood more erect, and shook as if
angry. "Stop making excuses. You're like a child, playing games instead of
doing your homework, justifying all of it."

She crossed her arms and had to restrain herself from
stomping her foot like a petulant child. "I don't have to justify
anything. I don't have to explain anything to you."

Mr. K's branches slumped forward and the whole tree seemed
to sigh with sadness. "No, you don't."

Lucy nodded and turned to leave.

Mr. K didn't seem to mind talking to her back. "But I
will not allow you to jeopardize Hunter and Luke. If you won't tell them, then
I will."

"No!" Lucy yelled and turned back around
viciously. The sphere pulsed in her hand and began to glow, softly at first,
then brighter and brighter, as if to match the rage that grew in Lucy herself.
"You will not tell them. And if they ask about it, you will lie and say
you know nothing of the sphere. Because you'll mind your own goddamn
business."

Mr. K's branches swayed as if disconnected from him, and his
large eyes took on a glazed, trance-like look. "I will not... tell
them," he repeated. "I will lie. I know nothing of the sphere."

What? What's he doing?
Lucy looked at the sphere in
her hand. It glowed bright and strong.
What the hell?
In a rush, the
euphoria disappeared and she dropped the sphere with a shriek. The glow faded
from bright to nothing in seconds.

Mr. K jerked his branches as if waking up from a dream.
"What? Lucy, are you okay?"

She plucked the sphere from the ground and hid it before he
could focus on her. "Yes, yes, I'm okay." She had tried to sound
confident and happy but feared it came out more emo-scared-girl.

Mr. K didn't meet her eyes when he spoke. "It's
late."

"Yes, I have to go." Lucy's heart raced as she
hurried out of the tree's shade and made her way back to her rock.

She sat down on her rock and cried with abandon—no more
holding back, no more pretending to be okay. Nothing was okay and she knew it.
Who had she become that she would use her shadow power on Mr. K?

He would lie for her. He would do what she said.

Because she'd given him no choice.

Visions flit in and out of his mind in a jumble of
chaotic and ominous warnings—kids lined in a hospital, crying out for help,
tearing apart their skin to claw out of their restraints; himself as a child,
helpless and abused, beaten by the foster parents the state trusted to care for
him.

Then, he grows up, and he isn't helpless anymore. The
face of that man flashes before him—the way his lip curls up in a sneer as he
beats his wife and child; the way they shrink in on themselves to escape the
punishment.

Drake, now initiated into his power, catches the man's
fist mid-air and throws him against the floor, then beats him until he can't
walk or speak or move.

Then the dream changes, and he's back with Sam the night
they were captured by the Seeker, the night he lost the love of his life.

The Seeker rears up at him and morphs into a giant
snake-like monster, his huge mouth stretched open, sharp teeth gleaming. "I
am your brother," it hisses, before that mouth wraps around Drake and
swallows him whole, crunching into his bone and twisting him inside out.

Drake woke, startled and with a head full of cotton balls.
The use of that much drug-induced power had stripped him of any natural
strength he had left, so they'd found a nice hotel and holed up while he slept
it off. Good thing Steele had been more generous with the cash than the drugs.

When he peeled his eyes back, Toby leaned into his face and
grinned, just as he had after Drake had woken up from his Blue Power-induced
high. "Good morning."

"Thanks, good morning to you too." Drake sat up
and stretched his aching body. "How long have you been up?" Toby had
still been passed out when Drake settled them into the hotel.

The boy looked around vaguely, then shrugged. "A few
hours. Three, maybe."

Drake checked the time on the clock by the bed. 5:00 p.m.
His stomach chose that moment to announce its hunger. "What kind of food
do you like?"

Toby grinned. "Pizza. Burgers are good too. Why? Are we
going out?"

Drake reached for the phone on the nightstand. "No.
We're staying in. I'll call room service."

"Wow. Thanks." The kid's grin stretched wider
across his face, and he looked around the room as if taking it in for the first
time. "You must be pretty rich, yo."

Drake ordered them cheeseburger sliders—whatever those
were—and soda, then replaced the receiver. "This isn't my house. It's just
a hotel."

"Exactly!" Toby flopped onto the other bed in the
room.

Of course.
Toby had probably never stayed at a hotel.
His house had definitely been a dump, so his mother couldn't have made much.
She may have even been on drugs, by the looks of her, probably Meth. Not that
Drake could judge. Look at all he'd done.

He looked at Toby more carefully and noticed his red, puffy
eyes, as if he'd been crying for a long time. The boy had been through hell and
back the last couple of days, and now he was alone in the world. Even his
shitty mother must have felt safer than being totally abandoned. He'd have a
lot to process in the coming weeks, and it wouldn't be easy.

Nature reminded Drake that it had been awhile since he last
used the bathroom. As he pushed his sore body out of bed, he noticed Toby was
still wearing his dirty shoes on the bed.

"Toby, get your shoes off the furniture." He
hadn't meant to sound quite that stern, quite like foster fathers of the past.

"Well, fine. You don't have to say it like that."
Toby pulled his shoes off and threw them to the side.

"Now, put them in the closet," said Drake.

The boy rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

As Drake walked toward the bathroom, Toby grabbed the remote
for the television.

Drake stopped and turned to him. "You should ask before
you use the TV."

Toby just shook his head as if it made no sense to him at
all. "Why?"

"We only have one room," Drake explained. "The
TV may bother me, so you should ask. It's polite."

Another eye roll. "Fine. May I use the TV?"

"Yes."

"Sheesh man, you're wound tight." Toby hopped back
on the bed, turned on the television, and started scrolling through channels.

Drake used the bathroom, then went out onto the balcony and
breathed in the fresh air while looking out over the city and the ocean. The
wind blew through his hair and calmed him. As he relaxed, he found himself
piecing together his dreams. Sam. He'd lost Sam. How would she react when he
came back? Would she hug him? Hit him? Or would she just leave him once they
found Ana, as he'd left her?

His heart sank into his gut and he brushed the thought from
his mind. Their love could be mended. He could make things right with her. He
would make things right with her. They'd been apart before, and they'd gone
through so much together; surely they could bridge the gap between them this
time.

Of course, this time was different. Drake had left her. He
deserved whatever anger she felt toward him, but he hoped that she could
forgive him.

He turned back to watch Toby lying on the bed. He'd settled
on some show that sounded like CSI, maybe. One of the CSI shows anyways. It
shocked Drake to really consider the fact that there was a kid in his room, a
kid under his care. He wondered if this is what it would be like with Ana when
she got older. He tried to imagine her at Toby's age. She'd looked like Sam,
but with a few of his features too. Strong, but delicate. He pictured her with
dark hair like her mother's, and blue eyes like both of her parents. She'd be
the most beautiful girl ever, and her smile would light up Daddy's world.

He needed to be with Ana, needed to be there for her as she
grew up, for her first crawl and first steps, her first words and first dance
with a boy. He could teach her to surf and play guitar. He'd love her and give
her the best of everything, the best of himself.

But what did he know about being a good parent?

Toby sat on the bed, sadness still swimming in his heart, the
loss of his mother so fresh.

Yet Drake could think of nothing comforting to say or do.
What would a father say in a time like this?

He'd never had a father to show him, at least not his own
father. The Seeker had told him his father had been a doctor, someone who ran
off with his mother before she'd been killed. What had they been like? What
kind of person would he be if they hadn't put him in the system and left him
there? Would he have been the kind of man who would have stayed with Sam and
his baby, if he'd been raised by a family who cared?

Drake looked back toward the ocean, and then toward the city
lights. His father could still be out there somewhere. Why hadn't he tried to
find Drake? He'd left him, but Drake wouldn't be that kind of father.

Besides, he'd had someone to give him the wisdom of a
parent. Father Patrick had raised Drake to know what to do, even if he didn't
see the priest as often as he would have liked.

He walked back into the room and sat next to Toby. He
thought about putting his arm over the boy, to offer comfort, but decided
against it. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Toby asked, as if he wasn't listening,
though Drake was sure he heard.

"Are you—" Drake stopped himself. Of course Toby
wasn't okay.
Crap.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Toby seemed to think about it. "Nah." He turned
his attention back to the show.

"We're going to drive to Washington tonight. It'll take
two days."

"Why?"

"I have... friends there." Drake wondered if that
was true anymore. "They'll take good care of you."

"Thanks, but I don't need them."

"I'm sorry, Toby, but you need someone to look after
you. You can't just live on the streets."

"Why not?" The boy turned to face Drake. "I
spent most of my time out there anyway. It's not like my mother did much to raise
me."

Drake understood that, remembered the times when he hated
coming home to parents that felt nothing like parents. Still, he needed them.
Kids needed someone.

"If you stay on the streets, it's only a matter of time
until someone finds you, calls social services. Then you'll be in the system,
thrown around from one home to another."

"Hmm. That sucks."

"Yeah, it does. Trust me on that. If you come with me,
you'll get a caring home, and people who'll understand you. Understand what you
can do."

Toby's eyebrow popped up at that. Then he raised his hand,
and looked at it, watching it fade away into nothing, as if someone poured
invisible paint on it. "It freaked me out, at first. I couldn't see myself
in the mirror." He pointed at the mirror in the room. "So I wanted it
to go away, and it did. I can control it, I think."

"It's a lot to take in, but you have powers. We both
do. That's why I healed. That's why you turn invisible. Pretty crazy,
right?"

"Pretty cool," said Toby, as he disappeared
completely.

"Toby?" The mattress shifted in the bed and he
could tell Toby stood up. "Where are you?" Drake got up, a feeling of
butterflies in his stomach. "That's enough, Toby." Something pinched
his back. "Oww." He heard Toby laughing and turned around.

Toby reappeared looking very puckish. "Man, this is
going to be fun."

Drake's face couldn't decide whether to smile or scowl, but
the smile won out. "So, what do you think about Washington? They have a
big mansion and everything."

That got his attention. "Mansion, you say? That's like
a big house, right?"

Drake nodded.

"Then Washington may be pretty good. Right now, I
figure I should stick with you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I mean, you saved me, didn't you? That's why I'm
here. I remember them strapping me down to a bed, putting a needle in my arm,
making me sleepy. Then I wake up here and see you passed out. So you saved me,
man. Right?"

Drake nodded again, amused by Toby's enthusiasm.

"You're like a hero, yo."

His amusement faded. "No. Trust me, I'm not." Even
Sam would agree with him on that.

"Of course a hero would say that," said the boy as
he pounced around on the bed. "I can be your sidekick."

"Don't need one."

"Every hero thinks that at first. But they always
learn, eventually."

Drake was about to argue some more when someone knocked on
the door. He opened it to the smell of food. A man in a white apron wheeled a
small table in and left them two silver dome-shaped plates. Toby and Drake sat
down to eat, each anxiously pulling off the cover to reveal the world's
smallest cheeseburgers.

Toby started laughing. "Man, no wonder there's lots of
skinny rich people if you all eat like this."

Drake laughed with him and scarfed down his burger in one
bite. He wiped his mouth, sucked down some soda, and stood. "Time to pack
up and get going. We've got to get to Washington as fast as possible, but
first, let's grab a real dinner and pick you up some clothes that aren't
covered in holes. How's that sound?"