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After paying the cashier, Lance smiled as he handed me one of the candy bars. We walked several blocks over to the bank where my Dad used to work. I kept my head low, hoping no one would notice the ragged, platinum blond hair sticking out from under my hat, or ask me why the ends of my hair were burnt. No wonder the guard had questioned me. We stood out worse than Lady Black in a snowstorm.
I frowned. “Lance...” He glanced over at me, his cheeks rosy from the cold. “Why do you think that guard was so quick to believe I wasn’t who he thought I was? I mean... shouldn’t he have asked for ID?”
Lance frowned. “He didn’t?”
I shook my head, cold seeping through my coat.
“That’s odd. I just figured you used the fake card.”
“No. I never even pulled it out.”
Before Lance had a chance to respond, Pops raised his hand to acknowledge us. He stood at the corner of the bank and made a sweeping gesture with his cane as we joined him. “About time. I was beginning to think you were lost.” He smiled, a positive radiance surrounding him. Thanks to his persuasion power, he was far too convincing with the leader act.
I stashed the candy bar in my coat. “Where to now?”
“A pub. According to the manager, that’s our best chance of hearing about your father.”
A few minutes later, we found the pub crowded with third shift workers relaxing after their night’s work. Pops got us a cramped spot in the corner, and once I was tucked between him and Lance, I buried my nose in the menu. Lance’s hand brushed my elbow. I flinched. Too many people—
Too much noise. Too many beasties—people, too—merging into a giant monstrosity. Blood and flesh knitted to metal in a living airship and Lady Winters laughed as I curled on the floor, trying to shut it all out. A legion of minds, merging in pain—
I pressed my hands to my head and gritted my teeth from the beginnings of a throbbing headache. Pops and Lance were ordering, and when the waiter asked what I wanted...
“Water,” I gasped. “Just water—”
Lady Winters knelt beside me, her manicured fingers lifting my chin so she could look me in the eyes. Her white hair pooled around her shoulders, and a single stream of blood dripped from the bullet wound in her forehead, spilling down the side of her nose and onto her chin. Her voice burned in my mind. I’ve already won, Nickleson.
“Jenna!” Lance hissed.
I jumped, and then gratefully gulped the water he sat in front of me. He stared at me, his pale green eyes a strange, concerned shade of olive. My menu still lay on the table, a single sheet of laminated paper. My heart thrashed against my ribs. Lady Winters’ flower charm felt hot against my skin, and I fought the urge to remove it from my neck.
It was a reminder. An unnecessary reminder at this point, but I’d eventually be rid of these inefficient memory seeds, and then I’d look at the thing as a point of pride that I had defeated Lady Winters. That I won.
“Jen,” Lance said softly. Perspiration dampened the short hair behind my ears. He reached for my hand, but withdrew his fingers quickly the moment his fingers met mine. “Your hand’s cold. What’s wrong? Can you at least give me some hint?”
I couldn’t answer. Not without sounding crazy if someone overheard us. Besides, it felt too personal, like I’d done something wrong and telling him would push him away. “I’m just stressed.”
“Be careful regarding names,” Pops whispered, glancing to the booth beside us.
“Right.” Lance returned his attention to me, his lips pursed. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
I nodded, dazed. I wanted to tell him about the new seeds, but at the same time, I didn’t. Better to keep quiet and let Gwen help me in private. Then I wouldn’t have to worry Lance more than necessary.
The waiter brought Lance his soft drink and a glass of tea for Pops, and gave me another glass of water with a chunk of lemon. I stared at the fruit, my head pounding.
The lemon, sliced through its tender skin... I tentatively withdrew my plant power and the pounding subsided.
Great. Not only could I sense plant life when it was “wounded,” but I had the uncomfortable feeling that eating a salad would be impossible unless I was shielded.
I sipped the water, savoring the tartness while being careful not to extend my powers, and listened to a conversation between third shift workers who were finishing dinner. They agreed the Community was safe, and that they shouldn’t worry about the “dangerous” man security was after. But there was one guy, a banker—judging by his pale blue uniform—who fidgeted at the mention of my dad’s name.
Pops tapped the edge of his seat and gave a slight nod of his head. He laid a handful of credits on the table. “In a moment, we will casually leave.”
The banker glanced over his shoulder nervously before hurrying out the door and down the sidewalk. Once he was sufficiently past the floor-to-ceiling, snow-encrusted window of the pub, Pops urged us from our booth. Outside, the crisp, cold air stung my nose. Though the banker was a good distance away, his eyes widened when he stumbled over the slick sidewalk and caught us following.
He hurried onward.
“Don’t change pace,” Pops warned. Lance tried to slip his hand in mine, but I shoved my hand into my pocket. People would notice a paired couple faster than two friends walking together.
Several streets later, I heard voices. The mercenaries from the diner trailed behind us, though the woman paused at the street corner. She rested her bare hand on the side of a building. Her dark braid flopped out of her jacket before she frowned and pushed her hair aside. They continued on the same path, stopping to touch a variety of objects: a light post, a door, the concrete sidewalk.
I took a quick step after Pops. Though we had already checked for trackers on the tablet Tim gave me, the uncomfortable possibility remained that the Camaraderie knew we were here.
What if the mercenaries were after me and my grandfather?
I shook off the thought. I’d read about a power that required touch in Pops’ dissertation: psychic tracking. Whoever that woman was, she was looking for somebody or something, but given that we were right in front of them, it wouldn’t make sense that she was looking for us.
Unless she was trying to throw us off.
Again, the flower charm pricked my chest, but I dismissed its presence.
I wasn’t going to use it.
The banker approached a bleary apartment complex in a residential area and rushed inside. Once we reached the building, Lance pushed the door open. The entrance hall had a clean carpet smell, a little musty, but it was the same smell of the dorms before I’d left. Like all the buildings in the Community, pale efficiency lights lined the ceiling. I hesitated. The closed space, the blue lights... My heart skipped a beat. I half expected Special Forces to waltz around the corner and start shooting.
Lance nudged me forward. The narrow entrance opened to a neatly organized, spotless cafeteria. Four hallways led to private apartments. Though several people sat in the cafeteria, working from tablets or laptops, none had the banker’s uniform.
Pops motioned for us to have a seat. “Wait here and act natural. I’ll return in a moment.” He stroked his salt-and-pepper mustache before disappearing down a corridor.
I gaped after him. How were we supposed to act natural when I jumped at the drop of a pen, and staying calm was a matter of pretending no one noticed us? Considering Lance’s sword, everyone noticed us, though most of them went right back to work.
The Community really was efficient.
Very efficient, Miss Nickleson. Lady Winters’ taunting voice echoed in my head. You could train with me. You are intrigued by how powers work, aren’t you? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn’t want to become like her, or any leader. Not that she would have taught me to be a leader. She wanted a puppet.
“Excuse me—” My heart leapt to my throat as yet another confounded guard touched my elbow. I spun around, my nose centimeters from his chest.
“You two look familiar.” The pungent odor of rubbing alcohol surrounded him. He must have shaved recently. “Jenna Nickleson? Lance Mechnikov?” He spoke carefully, as if testing our names on his tongue.
“Of course not!” I blurted in an English accent. A woman glowered at us from the nearby laptop station, and two little kids stopped working on their project to stare.
“No, sorry.” Lance shook his head. “They were the ones who were infected, right?” Lance did considerably better imitating Jack’s American accent than I did with the English one, but it might have been helpful if we’d chosen similar accents.
Would have been helpful if we’d thought about that before now.
The guard narrowed his eyes as if our reactions had already given him the answer he needed, and another guard stepped up behind him. “Your identification, please.”
I reached into my pocket, fumbling for the fake ID. The smooth plastic and raised bumps caught in my fingers. I handed him the card. The guard flipped it over, double-checking the security measures before offering the card to his partner. He frowned and did a double-take. “Huh. Looks clean.”
The other guard nodded in agreement.
I let out a breath. Where did Pops get these things? The guard handed my ID back. I nervously pocketed the card, waiting for them to confirm Lance.
“Thank you, Kate, Christopher.” The guard tapped Lance’s sword. “The Community is safe.”
Lance raised his chin proudly, his eyes darting from me to the guards as they walked away. “The Community is secure,” Lance called enthusiastically. He beamed, some remnant of his old desire to be Special Forces clinging to him.
The guard turned and raised a suspicious eyebrow. “It is our duty.”
I cringed, hoping they didn’t reconsider letting us go, but they moved on, unconcerned, thank the Community. I scanned the room for any sign of the older merc I’d spotted in the general store, but if he was manipulating anyone’s thoughts here, he stayed hidden. “We should find a better way to stay out of sight,” I whispered.
Lance rubbed his temples. “No kidding. But how else are we going to find your parents?”
I propped my elbows on the table, trying to relax. “We aren’t. I’m just worried someone is going to recognize us.” I hadn’t spotted anybody I knew yet, but I could imagine Lance’s father checking on security here. As an official, he wouldn’t hesitate to arrest us. “Do you think your dad ever wonders about you?”
Lance lowered his eyes. “If he’s seen the recordings at the prison, he’s disowned me. If he hasn’t, he probably thinks I was sent somewhere ‘safe—’ ”
The room warped, shifting around me until I stared at myself in a mirror. My reflection revealed a young man with dark hair and a five-o’clock shadow. Solemn face, circles under my eyes from long days of work. We had been working harder than usual, and the extra training sessions for Miss Black had been taxing.
I sighed, closing the medicine cabinet as I picked up the scanner. I needed to make sure the equipment was calibrated before the next patient came in—
As quickly as the memory came, I was back in the quiet cafeteria.
Odd. The memory had been of a younger version of Pops, one I didn’t remember from Lady Winters’ previous attacks.
Could the memories change?
Pops returned a few minutes later and leaned his cane against the table’s edge. “The banker is staying here, but it will take time to persuade him to come out. You’ll need—”
A deep, arrogant voice broke through the quiet murmur of the cafeteria. “Are you sure he’s been here? Your sister hasn’t been the most exact as of late.” The bearded guy—the fire elemental—twisted his lips in a snarl as he confronted Quin in the doorway.
Quin raised his hands. “Calm yourself. You’re going to draw attention.” The man crossed his arms. “Yes, he’s been here.” Quin glanced over the room. He frowned when he saw Pops. His mouth formed words I couldn’t read, and his eyes widened in recognition.
I spun around in my seat. Sure, the mercenaries might not have been intentionally following us earlier, but maybe they hadn’t actually recognized us until now. My chest tightened its firm, unrelenting grip. I’d thought they were after my dad, but Pops would have an even higher bounty.
Now that they recognized us, we needed a new plan.
