Unforgettable (Talented Saga #6)

  UNITED scientists developed, researched, and tested the Creation Drug approximately one decade ago. Ultimately, it was decided that the drug was too dangerous. Since then, both the manufacturing and use of the drug have been illegal. However, it is painfully apparent that they have neither upheld nor enforced this decree. Because of this, countries are appealing to the Joint Nations for the right to deal with any Created in their territories as they see fit.

  Thus far, UNITED has been able to retain control of the exclusive right to arrest and penalize the Created. But between attacks like the one today and the general chaos the Created are causing, it is unlikely that this will be the case for much longer.

  Proven by their actions over the last three weeks, the Created are a legitimate threat to humans. Infection with the Creation Drug alters one’s moral compass, establishing a gray area that blurs the line between right and wrong. The infected individuals are no longer in control of their mental faculties, a fact shown by UNITED’s own research with the drug. This also calls into question the Talented, a species the general public knows very little about, despite comingling with them for nearly a century.

  Are they, the Talented, those born with abnormal abilities, any safer than the Created? Have countries like the United States segregated the Talented for their own protection, as they claim? Or is it for our protection? How much do we, real humans, have to fear from the Talented? Are they just like us? Or are they monsters, disguised as docile creatures? Has the time finally come to separate our races for good?

  These are the questions we all need to ask ourselves now, when we are in a position to rid our world of this dangerous breed of individual. The Coexistence Treaty, the accord that affords the Talented the right to live among us as equals, is up for renewal. Should the law be rejected, the Talented will be forced to live in designated areas only. If you, like me and so many others, want a future free of fear and chaos, contact your Joint Nations representative and urge him or her to vote against renewal of the Treaty.

  —Dana Duval

  Senior Correspondent, World Broadcast Frequency

  THE LAST RAYS of the day shone through the branches, shedding just enough golden light on the dirt path to illuminate the divots and tree roots. My sneakers pounded the earth just as my heart pounded within my rib cage. If I concentrated hard enough, I could trick my brain into believing that the sweet perfume of fresh flowers and tree sap, the squeak of damp leaves, the chirp of birds and buzz of mosquitos were all real. On my left, the lake shimmered like a mirage in the setting sun, just barely visible through the thick crop of forest.

  This setting was my favorite, one I’d personally programmed into the gym’s computer to remind me of home.

  Home.

  As a child I’d never had a real home in the traditional sense. At least, not the kind with walls and a roof, no physical structure that housed my belongings. No bedroom where I slept every night for years on end, no kitchen where my mother cooked every meal, and no living room where we’d congregate to watch the wallscreen before bed. Hotel rooms, guest quarters in the homes of diplomats, and borrowed suites in government facilities—those were where I’d spent my early years.

  And yes, as glamorous as international travel sounded in theory, the reality didn’t quite live up to the hype. Little Talia had often longed for a room she could decorate, where she could put things away without having to pack them up again days, weeks, or months later. She’d longed for friends she could play with every day and make plans with, instead of the revolving door friendships that come with life on the road.

  Despite those things, or maybe because of them, my parents had made every effort in the world to give me the feeling of home, if not the physical place. No matter where we went, as long as the three of us were together, there was nothing we couldn’t handle. As unstable as spending a childhood hopping from place to place might sound, it was the most stable time in my life. Six-year-old me was safe, secure, and thought that my parents would always be there to pick me up when I fell. Six-year-old me had never even considered the possibility of a life without them.

  I’d been naïve.

  In fact, it was in one of those hotel rooms where TOXIC—no, where he—had stolen my family and robbed me of my innocence. It was in one of those hotel rooms where my world had changed forever. Where I’d gone from the daughter of a renowned scientist to a vengeful assassin-in-training. And where I’d become a murderer.

  The thought made me run faster, pounding the belt of the treadmill with every ounce of fury I still held. Those men in that hotel room had been my first victims, but by no means the last—not by a long shot. The blood on my hands was thick and my body count high.

  Block it out. Let it go. Don’t dwell on the past, it will just drive you crazy. Well, crazier than you already are.

  Orphaned, separated from a past that to this day was little more than a whisper of a memory, I’d come to think of the McDonough School as my home. Now, thoughts of the School and its founding family only brought heartache and regret. The happy memories I’d once known were now overshadowed by pain and lies too great to fully comprehend.

  At least Elite Headquarters, while also a part of my time with TOXIC, didn’t hold the same taint. The scenic plot of land with its natural springs, vegetation that was just a little too bright, and flowers that were a tad too vibrant, is located in the mountains of West Virginia. Breathtaking beauty aside, the reason those mountains held a place in my heart was simple: they were where I’d met him. Where I’d fallen in love with him. The only him I’d ever want or need.

  Sappy and sentimental? Sure. But meeting Erik Kelley was one of few positive things that had come from my time with TOXIC. He was the reason, despite a million others to the contrary, I could not regret the eight years I’d given them. It was also why I spent the first hour of every day running through the woods to the north of Hunters Village.

  True, the landscape was a façade, a computer-generated facsimile of the real deal, displayed on four walls of a glass workout cubicle, three meters below sea level. Instead of my feet hitting the dirt as I ran through the trees, they hit the treadmill belt stretching from one end of the cube to the other. Sadly, I wasn’t back there, honing my senses as I cycled through them and focused on each in turn. I was on an island refuge in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean known as Eden. But for that one hour, the timeline of my life was rewound two years. I was back at Elite Headquarters, sharing a cabin with two guys—my teammates—and falling in love with Erik all over again.

  For that one hour, Donavon McDonough was just a cheating ex-boyfriend who I simply pretended didn’t exist. Only, there in the past, he did still exist. Here, in the present, Donavon—my first boyfriend, my first love—was dead. And his son was an orphan. Here, Alex McDonough was a rambunctious toddler that I felt responsible for. Who I was responsible for. No matter how ill-equipped I was for the task.

  And just like that, my heart broke all over again for Alex. We were kindred spirits, but not for any reasons that were good or fair.

  Even though he was blind, as a Remote Viewer, Alex had already seen more than his fair share of tragedy. He’d experienced more loss in his short time on earth than most people did in a lifetime. Both of his parents were killed without a second thought by TOXIC’s swift hand of injustice. Donavon and Alex, and even the boy’s mother Kandice—the woman I had found in Donavon’s bed upon returning early from a mission—deserved better than the cards they’d been dealt. Powerful though I was, rewriting history was beyond even my Talents. All I could do now was make sure Alex understood what a great man his father had truly been in the end, and honor his mother’s dying request to keep her son safe.

  It was yet another reason I spent my mornings chasing the past. Maybe a part of me believed that if I ran hard enough, I could catch the time in my life when I was blissfully unaware of what was really happening. When I was blissfully unaware of the pain and tragedy that would befall everyone around me. For that o
ne hour, the man who’d been like a father to me after the death of my own wasn’t a traitor, a monster, a murderer. As much as I hated Danbury “Mac” McDonough most of the time, I found it impossible to separate the two halves of the man I’d known. Mac had raised me, trained me, and treated me like a daughter. He’d taken care of my every need, both the basic necessities and the longing for retribution that engulfed me after that day in the hotel room. He’d nurtured my Talents until they flourished, help me become the woman I was today.

  But he was also the monster who’d murdered my parents, illegally experimented on children, and destroyed his own son—all to further his own, horrific, agenda. It was impossible to untangle those feelings, to unwind the cords of love from the cords of rage and hatred. And so I longed for the time when I knew nothing of it all.

  Furthermore, for that one hour, the world wasn’t in chaos. The Created weren’t running wild, using the world as their playground as they worked out their own fear and confusion. The panic and dread in normal humans that had nearly forced the Talented into exile after the Great Contamination—the global catastrophe from which my gifts were born—hadn’t been reignited. My mere existence wasn’t enough to incite a lynch mob.

  Sadly, in reality, it was as if society had devolved back to the time when Talents were first discovered. Fear of the unknown does wild things to the hearts of people, even those with good intentions. And the Created weren’t even attempting to pacify the unease. So we’d reached a place where that hatred, for what the public did not understand, was once again threatening to destroy the peaceful coexistence our races had enjoyed for the last seventy-five years.

  “I’ll never understand the point of running in place.”

  She slipped into the workout cubicle with such quiet stealth that I was impressed. After I recovered from the heart attack she’d given me, of course.

  “Pause program,” I ordered. Bright white light replaced the soft green and gold glow as the West Virginia woods disappeared from the wallscreens. The conveyor belt built into the floor slowed before coming to a complete stop.

  “Custom workout paused,” the computer confirmed in a tinny mechanical whine.

  “That’s because you don’t believe in working out,” I told my best friend as I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my even sweatier hand.

  Penny Crane stood with her back against the sliding glass doors to the hallway, her red-orange hair in a wet knot on top of her head. Dressed in tight black pants, sky-high wedges with a rainbow fish suspended in the heels, and a silky top a shade darker than her lime-green eyes, she looked surprisingly mature. Gone was the wild, carefree girl I’d met at TOXIC two years ago—one of the other good things to come of my time there.

  A suit jacket was draped over her shoulder, hanging from one bony, white finger. Penny had always been thin, but since her brief but torturous imprisonment, she was downright skeletal. Collarbones protruded over the top of her blouse, straining against her alabaster skin and driving a deeper crack in my heart every single time I saw her.

  She was still beautiful in a way that was all her own, that had not changed. But Penny’s eyes no longer held the mischievous spark they once had. Permanent creases lined her forehead, and her once-constant smile rarely made an appearance anymore. Even the infectious laughter that never failed to lighten my mood was marred by the unspeakable acts she’d endured.

  What had happened to Penny—arrest, incarceration, torture, a stint as a human guinea pig—was my fault. I’d turned in my best friend, exposed her as spy for the Coalition, TOXIC’s sworn enemy. It didn’t matter that she was actually guilty of the charges levied against her. Nor did it matter that I hadn’t understood the reasons behind her actions or known the truth about TOXIC and Mac at the time. What mattered is that I knew Penny, knew who she was at the very heart of it all. Regardless of the fact I had no idea what was going on, no idea who were the good guys and who were the bad guys, I should have trusted that her intentions were good. If I lived to be a hundred, or even a thousand, I would never forgive myself for betraying Penny.

  The towel Penny threw at me was an inch in front of my face before it appeared on my radar. Thanks to my cat-like reflexes, I was able to snatch it from the air just in time to prevent a mouthful of terrycloth.

  I patted my sweaty cheeks and neck, then wiped down my arms and bare stomach.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked. “It’s awfully early for you to be awake, let alone dressed.” I nodded at her business attire. “What’s the occasion?”

  “Victoria’s on her way here, she called an emergency meeting. She said she sent you a comm, but you didn’t answer. I figured you were down here.”

  Unable to help myself, I groaned in annoyance at the thought of a day with my boss. Victoria Walburton was the head of UNITED, the United Nations International Talent Education Department, the organization I was now a part of. She was a formidable woman and not my biggest fan. That probably had something to do with my lack of a filter between my brain and my mouth. Regardless, she was smart and knew that she needed my help, so she kept her animosity towards me to a minimum.

  Victoria’s most pressing concern at the moment was to “contain” the Created before they caused an international incident. Unfortunately, it was a little late for that. The news was full of reports of their escapades, a fact she reminded me of every time we spoke. As if it were solely my fault we hadn’t apprehended them all yet. I’d agreed to be part of a special taskforce, to hunt down every last Created, because I knew what their actions meant for the rest of us. I understood the need to alleviate the fears of the general population. But so far we weren’t doing a great job. More often than not, when we got a tip about the location of a Created Talent, the individual was gone by the time we arrived. More often than not, there was some degree of destruction, from minor property damage to disaster-relief-worthy devastation, in their wake.

  “Did her highness say what this meeting was about?” I asked, pulling a gray tee with UNITED printed across the chest over my head. Working out sans shirt was one thing, walking around a bunch of strangers half-naked wasn’t going to happen. The stares and whispers I drew from the residents of Eden were bad enough when I was fully clothed.

  Penny shrugged.

  “Didn’t ask. I figure she’s either going to give us a pep talk or yell at us about the lack of progress we’re making. Depends what kind of mood she’s in.”

  Victoria didn’t have a warm and fuzzy personality, and coddling wasn’t in her repertoire, so the impromptu morning meeting was likely going to be an hour-long bitch session. Especially after the latest disaster caused by a Created—a tsunami off the coast of Miami. My team had not been dispatched to the States for that one, since the guy responsible for the stunt surrendered immediately, along with his buddies who’d been watching the show. And so they were the newest residents of Vault, UNITED’s island penitentiary turned Created containment facility.

  I walked to the control panel on the wall and logged out of the workout session, then followed Penny into the hallway.

  Eden had ten sublevels that stretched deep into the Atlantic Ocean below the main level, which was above sea level like any natural island. For security reasons, all of the living quarters were located below, under several thick layers of reinforced steel meant to protect us in case of an airstrike.

  Sublevel four was the women’s dormitory. All single women over the age of eighteen were given their own sleeping quarters with a kitchenette. Twenty communal bathrooms were provided for the residents on each floor. The men’s dormitory on sublevel five had an identical setup.

  Because we were working for UNITED, Penny and I had been assigned a suite on sublevel six, the family floor. Technically, Penny and I shared our two bedroom, two bathroom apartment. Since there were an odd number of male agents being housed on Eden, Erik had lucked into his own suite. That arrangement had lasted all of one night before Penny and Erik switched places, which suited
all three of us much better. Erik and I played house, getting lots of the much-needed alone time we’d both been craving for ages. Since we’d been together, our lives had been chaos and we hadn’t often been in the same place at the same time without some imminent threat looming over us. We were making up for it now.

  Penny enjoyed her privacy most nights, with the occasional overnight guest in the form of Brand Meadows, her kind-of-sort-of boyfriend. Though a UNITED agent, Brand wasn’t actually stationed on Eden. His position as liaison between UNITED, the Coalition, and the former TOXIC states meant he traveled constantly. He’d negotiated one night off a week, which he always spent here with Penny. Neither was willing to admit that their relationship had progressed past friendship, but it was obvious to everyone.

  “Did you tell Erik about the meeting?” I asked once we’d boarded the elevator.

  “I tried,” Penny replied, not meeting my gaze as she stabbed the button for six. “He wasn’t there.”

  “Oh.”

  Penny and Brand weren’t the only ones not being totally honest about the state of their relationship. On the surface, nothing had changed between Erik and me. We acted like we were just as in love as ever. Because we were. The change was something I felt, though. Something that even love wasn’t strong enough to prevent.

  Since coming to Eden, Erik had become distant, moody, and anti-social, which was so out of character for him. In school, he’d been Mr. Popular with tons of friends, both male and female, and the same remained true after he graduated and became a TOXIC operative. Despite leaving a number of broken hearts in his wake, my boyfriend had been well-liked by everyone. Donavon had been the only person to truly hate Erik, and that was my fault. Now, though, Erik made excuses to hide in our suite instead of socializing. The only time he interacted with our fellow UNITED agents was on missions, even though several on the taskforce were longtime friends of his.