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Snow dusted the Community’s long, paved roads. It swirled past two-story buildings and pelted my bare face. I wished I’d brought a heavier coat. Lance, my best friend and current partner in crime, tucked his hands under his armpits and grumbled about the wind. Though everything we wore was gray or white, same as the heavy parkas and thick hoods of the people hurrying to work, we had only the lighter coats we’d left the Community with three months ago. We could have borrowed something from the other rebels, but everything they had was too colorful or not the right size—a clear sign we weren’t supposed to be here. At least I’d found a hat to keep my too-short hair from being noticeable.
My grandfather, on the other hand, was bundled in a knee-length coat and scarf with fitted gloves. He kept his back straight and his chin high. A passing security guard tipped his hat and said, “The Community is safe.”
Pops inclined his head, lips twisted in a smile. “It is our duty.”
I shuddered and pulled my arms closer, careful not to squish the plant vines underneath my coat. They wrapped around my arms, ready to protect me if I needed them.
We stopped in front of a diner, where blue efficiency lights illuminated the snow outside the window and gave the gray world a bit of color. Pops rested his hands across the top of his cane. “Ready, Jenna?” His breath exhaled in short puffs.
I shuffled my feet nervously through the snow. “Might as well be.” We’d found our destination. A blast of warm air whooshed past me, along with the smell of coffee, toast, and freshly scrambled eggs. The diner hadn’t changed much. Same pale colors, swept floors and mended chairs. Pops chose a seat at a round table next to the door, uncomfortably close to the security guards at the table in front of us. We were in the middle of the St. Petersburg Community, which meant getting out would be difficult if the guards recognized us. Still, if they mentioned anything about where my parents might be, then coming here was worth the risk.
I sighed, listening to the laughter and general morning chatter of the diner’s patrons. Too bad I was a wanted criminal. I could pretend I was safe here. I’d been to this diner when I was a kid, back before I joined my grandfather’s rebellion. Back before I learned superpowers were real and so were monsters—some of them human. This place was only a cold reminder of the lies our government told us, of how much we needed to fix in the Community before it would truly be safe, secure, and efficient.
A waitress came. Lance smiled politely and nudged his jacket over the hilt of his sword. A gun would have been easier to hide, but his power enhanced his swordsmanship, not his aim. He hadn’t trained much with a gun. Besides, the sword was technically legal; it just did nothing to help us blend in—unless he claimed he was a personal bodyguard. But if that was the case, he should have been in uniform.
“Good morning,” the waitress said, her voice pleasant. “Can I take your orders?”
Pops smiled. “Good morning. Orange juice, please.”
The waitress tapped her tablet and turned to Lance. “Morning,” he said absently. “Milk and toast?”
“Yes, sir.” She took note. “For the miss?”
My mouth watered at the thought of non-powdered eggs. “Breakfast burrito,” I stammered. “Um... and ‘good morning,’ too.” I forced a smile.
The waitress chuckled. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with your orders.” She disappeared behind the counter.
Pops raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “Forget the respects part?”
I shrugged, fiddling with a salt shaker. We were supposed to be polite to each other. Supposed to acknowledge when someone else was being pleasant. But it was hard to remain pleasant when my parents’ lives—and their humanity—was in danger.
Near us, the guards’ bitter coffee stung my nose, but their conversation was minimal. None of them mentioned a thing about my dad. I twisted my fingers and kept my eyes downcast. The Camaraderie leaders—the council members who secretly controlled the Community—wanted to use my dad to capture Pops, but he wasn’t particularly dangerous. That was why regular guards were keeping an eye out for him, not Special Forces. Special Forces had elite gunners and specialized power users. If they got involved, our attempt to rescue him would become a lot more difficult.
Minutes later, the waitress brought our food. Despite the burrito’s plain toppings, it was better than the powdered stuff Crush regularly made. He wasn’t a bad cook, but his ingredients were limited. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be making any more breakfast burritos, with or without powdered eggs.
My heart sank. He died during our last mission. I sat the burrito back on my plate. Pops rested his firm hand on mine. “Are you all right?”
The warmth of the diner seized, evaporating, and shifted around me into a cold, sterile room. My breath caught in my throat at the onslaught of the memory attack—
A young woman swung her legs from the edge of a hospital bed. She tilted her head, watching me with a cautious expression. “Is the Health Scan safe?”
I jerked away from her and found myself back in the warmth of the diner, jerking instead from Pops’ touch. I stared at him, my heart pounding. Somewhere, coffee dribbled into its pot.
Pops frowned, and Lance gave me a worried smile. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I murmured.
Lance quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced, but he went back to spreading grape jam on his toast. Just as well. Though he knew I’d been dealing with memory seeds—telepathic attacks meant to disorient and weaken their targets—he didn’t know the extent of the latest attacks, and now wasn’t the time to tell him. If someone overheard me, they would either think I had theophrenia—a plague that caused hallucinations—and they would alert security, or they would know I didn’t belong in the Community.
I felt for the enchanted flower charm on my chest, and let out a sigh of relief when I felt the lump under my jacket. That charm was yet another oddity that I hadn’t known existed before I left the Community—and neither did most of the diners’ patrons. But it was a reminder that I needed to fix the damage Lady Winters had caused, never mind that I didn’t plan to use its power.
By the time I finished my burrito, the guards and most of the morning customers had left for work, save for a short young woman standing in the corner beside an odd assortment of men. Her lips were twisted into a frown. She looked about my age, but it was hard to tell. A long black braid trailed behind her back, which should have been a sign that she was part of the Community’s E-Leadership—the governing body that ruled the Community at various local and national levels—except that her clothes were relatively inconspicuous, almost plain. She wore a light brown tunic sewn with thick black trim around the edges... a subtle kind of efficiency. She looked to be of East Asian descent. She pressed her hands to her hips, her brown eyes glaring at a man with similar features. Now that the other customers had left, her voice carried through the empty diner. “He can’t be that hard to find.”
“He’s evaded security for the past two months.” The man raised his chin, considerably calmer than the woman or the two disgruntled men beside him. He could’ve easily been from the Community, especially next to the other guys’ forest green jackets and medium-length hair. He had standard, short black hair, dark eyes, and a tunic a bit shorter than the woman’s. “Considering the bounty, he’s not going to be easy to find.”
I bit my lip. Dad had a bounty on his head; they might’ve been looking for him.
The woman crossed her arms. “After not finding the pendants, you’d think I’d be in for some luck.” She stormed out the side entrance, leaving the man still sitting. He sighed and shook his head. One of his outer pockets sagged, but I couldn’t tell what he was carrying.
The man sporting a beard next to him grinned. “Hothead, ain’t she?” He rubbed his fingers together. A miniature flame flickered in his hand. He didn’t have a lighter, so that was a dead giveaway for powers.
The first guy shot him a warning glare and pressed the man’s hand to the table. “Not here.”
The man scoffed. “Come on, Quin. What are they going to do? Arrest us?” He chuckled. “The Community’s safe.”
I bristled at his tone, and the first man, Quin, narrowed his eyes.
“We aren’t paid to use powers in public,” Quin said quietly, “and we’re supposed to use our aliases. Come on.”
He stood and exited through the back door. The bearded guy scoffed, flicking a small puff of flame into the air. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. He nudged his buddy, an older man with blond hair, and they followed.
I elbowed Lance. He stole a glance over his shoulder and nodded, reaffirming my suspicions. “Fire elemental,” I whispered. If one of them had powers, chances were, they all did.
Pops scribbled something on a napkin, tucked it into his pocket, and then fished out credits for the food. “I believe I have a bank account here I’ve been missing the password for. Should be reason enough to talk to the manager. Let’s see if I can get a lead before they do.” He nudged his head toward the empty table.
I nodded. Since Dad used to work at the bank, they might have information the guards hadn’t thought to ask for. Once we were outside, Pops interlaced his fingers over his cane and examined Lance and me. “Why don’t you two shop around?” His lips twisted into a slight smile. “Let’s not make the manager suspicious.”
I stuck my hands in my pockets as Pops shuffled down the sidewalk. Lance leaned in close to me, away from the frosty wind of the open street. “Want to check out the grocery store?” he suggested, nudging my shoulder with his. “They might have candy bars.”
I couldn’t help but smile. We hadn’t been to a grocery store in months. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Lance grabbed my hand and pulled me across the street, grinning as if we were regular college students visiting from out of town.
Inside the frosty doors, he gestured to the candy aisle. It was a lovely middle row of boxes, each lined with various sweets and chocolates in white packaging with simple black letters that detailed the cookies within. There wasn’t much in the way of new innovations—something I hoped to change once we got back on track with fixing the Community—but Lance snatched up a crunchy chocolate bar on the lower shelf. Blue light from the LEDs above us reflected off the wrapper—
Blue light illuminated a long, endless corridor. A low wail reverberated through the hall, horrible screams and cries for help. Fear pressed against me from all sides. I couldn’t be here. Not again! I couldn’t help them. Too many voices. Too much pain, and the corridor stretched out forever with no escape—
“Want one?” Lance offered me his candy bar and reached for another.
I shuddered involuntarily, the flower charm I’d stolen pressing against my collarbone. I really, really needed to talk to Gwen, the team’s telepath, about removing the memory seeds now that her powers were back. “Actually, I think I’d rather have one of the—”
A shadow fell over me. I turned slowly and stared too long at the gray uniform of a security guard. “Yes, sir?” I asked, attempting Inese’s English accent. Lance ducked down the other side of the aisle, vanishing with the candy.
Some friend he was.
“Excuse me, miss,” the guard said warily. “Is your name Jenna Nickleson?”
I gaped at him, a rush of cold flashing through me. I quickly shook my head. “I’m sorry; you must have the wrong person.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You look very much like Miss Nickleson.”
“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” I lied. My heart pounded in my ears. “I get that a lot, though. People thinking I look like someone else. I don’t know why.” I shrugged, though my vines trembled underneath my coat. The guard frowned and I kept smiling, hoping he believed me. If he recognized me, I wasn’t sure how fast I could get back to the car. Sure, I had an enhanced speed power, but he had a gun.
He looked me over before nodding. “Sorry about that, miss. The Community is safe.”
“The Community is secure,” I said too fast, trying to remember the formalities I’d so quickly forgotten. My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I sincerely hoped that my nervousness wouldn’t incriminate me.
The Community was not safe, and it was not secure. Crush’s recent death, the existence of beasties—subhuman monsters—and Lady Winters’ cruelty—she was now dead, thanks to Tim—all proved that we had believed a lie... a lie that the Camaraderie told E-Leadership, which they in turn passed to us.
A lie I intended to address as soon as we got my parents to safety. Our previous mission might have ended badly, but Pops had to have something in mind. Some way to keep the Camaraderie off-balance.
The guard finished the mantra and moved along. A moment later, an older man with blond hair passed the end of the row, glanced at me and raised his eyebrow, and then disappeared out the front door.
I could’ve sworn I’d seen him with the mercenaries earlier. I swallowed hard. Was he a telepath? Was that why the guard had gone away so quickly?
The flower charm continued to irritate my sternum, a reminder that I could use its telepathy enchantment to see what he wanted. It wouldn’t be that hard to try to sense what the merc felt and to find out why he was here—
“Sorry,” Lance said, returning to my side. I yanked my hand away from my neck and shoved the charm back under my coat. I hadn’t even realized I was fiddling with the thing. “Figured it’d be harder to get away if he recognized both of us. Same high school and all.” He paused, his eyes falling to where the charm hid under my coat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I nodded quickly and mentally tightened the vines underneath my sleeves. They pressed against my arms, offering their comfort. “I’ll explain later. Good thinking about the guard. But we should get going. I know we’re trying to stay undercover, but if Pops needs us, I want to be close.”
“Sure.” Lance fidgeted, and then linked his arm in mine. I bit my lip, remembering what Val—the spy who kidnapped Tim—had said about Lance liking me. I had a hard time thinking of him as a partner, though. We had only gotten so close because of the past few missions. “Let’s stop by the cereal aisle first, if you don’t mind.” He flashed me a grin.
I sighed. One guard evaded, one mercenary avoided, and two minutes later—with Lance grumbling about the store not having any of that icky marshmallow cereal he was so fond of from the airship—my pocket vibrated. I dug out my phone.
Lance tilted his head, curious.
Pops’ voice crackled with static. “I got what I need. Meet me by the bank.”
“Sure.” I closed the phone—which was more of a radio in disguise than an actual phone since we couldn’t safely use EYEnet towers without alerting security—and I let out a breath of relief.
“Pops is done,” I said, motioning to the doors. “Let’s go.”
