I crouched at the beginning of the course, waiting for Griffin to signal me to start. As soon as he blew his whistle, I sprinted for the first rock wall. Clearing it with relative ease, I took off across the rope bridge at the top. The first assailant stood halfway across the bridge; I stabbed him in the neck with my blade and continued on.
After taking part in actual missions with the Hunters, facing real enemies with real weapons, the course was a breeze. Even though I was out of shape and sucking wind, I finished in record time, even for me.
“Amazing as usual!” Griffin exclaimed, clapping me on the back as I stood doubled over, my hands resting on my thighs, trying to catch my breath.
“Thanks,” I panted, twisting my neck to smile up at him through sweat-soaked curls. Behind Griffin, I could see the astonished faces of the students. Their skeptical stares had turned respectful, and I couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction. Donavon might have bruised my thigh – and my ego – and Cadence might have humiliated me in front of her class, but at least I knew that I hadn’t completely lost my touch.
The final class of the day was Telekinesis Training with Ursula Bane. As with Griffin’s class, Mac actually wanted me to aid Ursula’s students since they all possessed telekinetic powers. Unlike Griffin, Ursula did have some suspicious incidents in her past.
Her parents hadn’t submitted her mandatory testing when she was five, which wasn’t a huge deal in and of itself. However, both of her parents were outspoken members of a rebel group that opposed the testing laws. The Agency hadn’t actually discovered a connection between them and the Coalition, but openly disagreeing with the law was only one step removed from being branded a Crane supporter, and a traitor.
Toxic first became aware of Ursula when she was arrested with her parents at an anti-testing rally when she was thirteen. When the members of the Interrogation Division had questioned her, they’d realized that she was a very strong Telekinetic. Afterwards, they offered her a place at the McDonough School, which she readily accepted. Until she’d met members of the Agency, Ursula had never realized her ability to move objects with her mind was actually a Talent.
Since attending the School and then becoming a member of the Agency, Ursula had proven herself to be a loyal Operative. But while she was establishing her allegiance, her parents became increasingly more outspoken. As a result, they were both currently serving time at Affelwood Correctional Facility, a low security prison in D.C. The red flag in her file was because Ursula had been to visit her parents in prison numerous times in the months prior to my mission to Nevada. Those visits were undoubtedly monitored. I just needed to get copies of the recordings – another job for Penny.
Unlike Cadence, Ursula was thrilled at my presence. At least until she realized that my Talent was stronger than hers. From her file, I’d learned Toxic considered her to be an Extremely-High level Telekinetic. I immediately registered the smugness she felt in her abilities. Her arrogance irritated me to no end, even though I also had a certain amount of pride in my own powers, which may have been the reason our personalities conflicted. I had to keep reminding myself during her class that my primary objective was learning whether she was a spy, not showcasing my clearly-superior skills.
After my classes wound down for the day, I jogged back to the Instructor’s dorm. My stomach grumbled with hunger. I couldn’t wait to get to dinner, but I was fairly certain that Penny wouldn’t appreciate it if I showed up without showering first.
Hurrying through the front of the dorm, I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I mentally switched the door lock to open as I rounded the corner to my room. I quickly shucked my clothes and made for the shower, wishing that I was back at my room in Elite Headquarters, where I could just program my wall sensor for maid service. No such luck. Here, I was my own maid.
The warm water felt great on my already-beginning-to-ache muscles. I desperately craved more time for the warm water to ease the lingering tension from earlier in the day, but I knew that I needed to hurry if I was actually going to eat before meeting Penny. Full of regret, I turned off the water with a sigh and reached blindly for the fluffy white towel hanging on the bar attached to the back of the door. I quickly dried off and dressed in a pair of lightweight navy blue drawstring pants, a soft white shirt, and well-worn leather sandals. I glanced at the clock on my desk. “Crap,” I said out loud. I was as per usual, late. Grabbing a lightweight zip-up jacket, I headed for the door.
I made it halfway to the cafeteria when I ran into Mac.
“You forgot to go to Medical today,” he said as soon as he spotted me.
“Evening to you, too,” I replied.
“You know how important it for Medical to sample your blood levels every day, Natalia. Not to mention, you need your injection.” Mac ignored my glib comment. His cold eyes surveyed me disapprovingly.
“My day was great, thanks for asking.” I smiled as though he’d actually inquired.
“Medical. Now,” he barked. Mac had no sense of humor.
“I was just on my way to dinner. Care to join me?” I asked.
“Natalia ...,” he warned.
“Mac, I am staaaarrrving,” I whined.
“I will have dinner sent to you and Operatives Latimore and Samuels at the Crypto Lab.” Without another word, Mac turned and walked away. I grumbled to myself as I altered my course towards Medical, my stomach protesting loudly.
After my routine blood taking, chased down with my daily injection of experimental medicine, I finally made my way to the Crypto Building. As soon as the glass doors slid open, granting me entry to Penny’s inner sanctuary, my olfactory senses lit up. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the wonderful scent of Gretchen’s cooking.
“Roasted hen,” I called. I breathed in again. “Mashed sweet potatoes with honey butter.” Sniff, sniff, sniff. “Greens with roasted pine nuts?”
“You got it!” Penny exclaimed, smiling at me. “Mrs. McDonough had it delivered a couple minutes ago. It’s delicious,” she added, glancing guiltily to her plate, already piled high with large helpings. Gemma also looked shamefaced for starting to eat without me. I sat down and helped myself to equally-large portions of the feast, and the three of us sat in companionable silence as we gorged ourselves with Gretchen’s cooking.
“Food coma,” I muttered, licking the last remnants of potato off my plastic fork. I looked sideways at Penny, who was staring glassy-eyed at the bank of computers. She nodded her agreement. A wave of exhaustion hit me as I began to digest the enormous meal.
“The Director gave me the list of Instructors that he paired you with as a starting point,” Penny began just as my eyelids were becoming too heavy to keep open. Shaking my head, I tried to jostle myself awake. “I did a more thorough background search of each,” she continued. “I printed you the in depth reports.” Penny handed me a stack of thick folders.
“Thanks,” I answered.
“You learn anything useful today?” Penny asked hopefully.
“Not really,” I said, absently flipping through the first folder. It was Annalise’s, reminding me to ask Penny about her Talent ranking. “Actually, there was one thing I was curious about. This first Instructor, Annalise Cleary, is listed as an Elite-Level Electrical Manipulator.”
“Yes, why?” Penny looked confused.
“Will you double check that?” I asked. Penny narrowed her eyes at me, but wheeled her chair several computers down. Her fingers flew adeptly across the keys.
“Annalise Bernice Cleary,” she read from her screen. “Elite levels of Talent consistent with Electrical Manipulation,” Penny confirmed. That was what my print-out said, too. I stared down at the file, twisting my face in concentration.
“I assume you disagree with that diagnosis?” Penny asked dryly.
“Disagree might be a strong word,” I replied. “More like, question its accuracy?”
Penny laughed. “Okay, lay it on me. Do tell, Dr. Lyons, why do you question the accuracy?”
she said, sarcasm dripping from her words.
“Well, for starters,” I began, putting a slight effect on my words, trying to match the tone used by highly educated Medicals and Psycho Medicals. “Ms. Cleary exhibits none of the brain patterns consistent with an individual possessing such levels of Talent. Additionally, Ms. Cleary does not exude electrical impulses, which she would if she were, in fact, capable of electrical manipulation to the degree you so claim.” Penny couldn’t contain herself and her body shook with silent laughter. Even Gemma burst in to a fit of giggles as I mocked the Medical’s haughty mannerisms.
“Care to repeat that in dummy speak?” Penny asked, wiping a tear from her eye.
“What” I exclaimed, “the brilliant Penelope Latimore doesn’t understand technical jargon?” I brought my hand to my chest and took in a gasp as I feigned shock.
“Ha ha, I don’t know everything,” she shot back, her face flushing slightly. I suppose when your IQ is off the charts, you don’t like having your intelligence questioned.
“I’m just saying that her mind doesn’t feel like other strong Electrical Manipulators,” I said.
“What do you feel when you read her thoughts?” Penny asked.
“Nothing really.” I shrugged. “She feels like a normal person.”
“Interesting,” Penny mused thoughtfully. “I’ll pull her placement exam records and see if there are any inconsistencies.”
“Thanks.”
Penny and I spent the remainder of the evening dissecting the other Instructors’ profiles. I committed every seemingly-important morsel to memory, making a mental checklist of every fact that I wanted to verify with each teacher. By the time that I noticed the clock on Penny’s desk, it read 11:53 p.m. I yawned.
“I need to get to bed,” I announced. “Need to be bright-eyed to kick Donavon’s butt tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll call you a car to take you back.” Penny hit a button on her console, a tired voice answering on the first ring. “I need a car to take Talia Lyons back to Instructor housing,” Penny said by way of greeting.
“The vehicle will be outside in five minutes, Ms. Penny,” the voice replied. Penny thanked the man and hit a second button on the console, ending the call. I tucked my files under my arm and said goodnight to Penny and Gemma.
“Oh,! I almost forgot! Will you do me a favor and check out a guy named Ernest Tate? He teaches Advanced Crypto something-or-other,” I said.
“Sure thing, I’ll have a profile on him when you get here tomorrow night,” she readily agreed. I smiled in appreciation and gave her a small wave as I left.
Chapter Eight
As tired as I was, sleep still eluded me. My mind buzzed with thoughts of Donavon. Why was he really here? If this morning was any indication, it appeared that his sole purpose was to torture me. In reality, I suspected that Mac had recruited him to covertly investigate the other Instructors as well. But why hadn’t Mac told me? His omission unnerved me and I couldn’t let it go, much like a dog with a bone.
Once I’d exhausted that train of thought, my mind wandered to Erik as it so often did. I replayed the words from his letter, words that I’d committed to memory. It was a good thing that I had since I no longer had the letter. When Mac had finally let me read the entire incident report on my mission, I’d noticed that Erik’s letter had not been listed among my personal belongings. I prayed that it was because the letter hadn’t been found and not because someone had found it and turned it over to Mac. The rational part of my brain knew that the words had likely torched along with the blood-soaked leaves that had nearly been my burial shroud, but I couldn’t shake the anxiety that I’d failed Erik and unwittingly divulged his secrets. Protocol dictated that if an Operative bled during a mission, anything contaminated had to be burned, and that letter had been smeared with my blood.
I considered calling Erik. Mac hadn’t explicitly lifted the moratorium on interactions with non-approved people, but I figured that I was now back among the land of the living, the restrictions were no longer applicable. The problem was I had no idea what I would say to him if I did call. Our last encounter had been less-than-friendly. Yet he had sent Henri with that letter, and his desire to confide something that was so personal felt a lot like a peace offering. Still, I couldn’t muster the courage.
What if he didn’t want to talk to me? Penny said that he was back to being his old self. What if he had a girlfriend? What if he had several girlfriends? The notion tore at my chest like razor blades slicing open old wounds.
I finally fell asleep before my subconscious could conjure up anymore unpleasant scenarios.
The next morning, I woke before my alarm. Like yesterday, the tension running through my body made it impossible for me to continue sleeping. I turned my alarm clock off and quickly dressed in running clothes. This time, I added a thick nylon belt with bottle holders to my ensemble. I filled three bottles with water from the tap in my bathroom and secured them to the loops at my waist. I chalked up yesterday’s embarrassing display to dehydration, and was determined not to repeat it.
Setting off at a slow jog, I replayed the events from the previous day in my mind. I analyzed my interactions with each individual in light of Penny’s more in-depth profiles. Next, I mentally scripted the questions that I would ask each teacher. When I exhausted that task, I moved on to recalling the highlights of each profile.
All of the Instructors, except for Thad, had some family member who was either affiliated directly with the Coalition or who was strongly suspected of supporting their cause. Thad was also from a different country, a fact which warranted a little mistrust on its own, but not much. Many other countries didn’t have schools to train Talents, so it wasn’t uncommon for foreign children to come here for education. Part of the deal was if they were educated here, they stayed here after graduation and worked for Toxic. Many thought that it was a good alternative to being ostracized for their abilities in their countries. Thad had been a Hunter, which meant he would’ve come in contact with Coalition members and turned spy as a result. But Thad had a good record and hadn’t raised suspicion in all the years that he’d been a Hunter or an Instructor with the Agency.
Annalise Cleary, at best, seemed like a fake. Her Talent Ranking was listed as ‘Elite’, but I had serious doubts that it was, in fact, true. However, I also doubted that made her a spy, and chalked the inconsistency up to a mistake during her ranking tests. Until I delved further into her psyche, or questioned her extensively about contact with her ex-husband, I wouldn’t know for sure whether she was one of the good guys.
Cadence Choi stunk of desperation to prove that she was better than her ranking. Penny’s report indicated that Cadence had taken the Hunters Placement Exam. She’d been rejected because her Talent ranking was too low since the Hunters only accept Talents with a ranking of Extremely-High or Elite. She’d requested several transfers to the Hunters in the six years that she had been teaching at the School, and each had been denied. Personally, I thought that she was lucky to have been granted an Instructor position at graduation as opposed to an assistant one; new graduates were seldom awarded such a noteworthy post. Despite our instant mutual dislike for one another, I had to admit that she was really a very good fighter, and not a bad teacher.
Ursula was a surprisingly-hard read. Aside from her extreme arrogance where her Talents were concerned, I’d been unable to get much of a feel for her. Luckily, she was her own favorite topic of conversation, so I doubted that it would be difficult to get her talking about more intimate matters. Thinking about Ursula made me realize that I’d forgotten to ask Penny about getting the recordings of her visits with her parents at Affelwood. I really needed to start writing this stuff down.
Even as I repeated the Instructors’ statistics in my head, thoughts of Donavon crept to the surface. Penny’s more extensive background reports gave a detailed history of past relationships, and known acquaintances at each posting. If casual friendships and known hook-ups had bee
n immortalized in their files, I was confident that my own high-profile relationship with Donavon had been carefully documented. The realization made me incredibly uncomfortable, and slightly desperate to read our files.
Toxic did not prohibit Operatives from marrying and having children with one another, even encouraging the idea in some cases. Though scientists hadn’t conclusively proven that Talented parents begot Talented children, it was more common if at least one of the parents was. Donavon was an Extremely-High -level Morpher, and I was an Elite-level Mind Manipulator; it was almost a certainty one of our children would have strong powers. Mac had encouraged our relationship for this reason, and he wasn’t the only one. Many believed that a pairing such as ours would prove extremely beneficial to the furtherance of Toxic’s objectives.
As the Director’s son, Donavon was slated to follow the same course as his father. After his stint here as undercover spy hunter or whatever his actual assignment was, I assumed that he would return to Elite Headquarters and the Hunters. In a few years, he would be promoted to team captain. Like Mac, he’d become Headmaster by the time he was forty. After leaving his mark at the McDonough School, his namesake, Donavon would likely be appointed Captain of the Hunters, or as Liaison to the World Council on Talents. Finally, he would become Director; every McDonough had followed the same path since the inception of Toxic.
This wasn’t Donavon’s life plan so much as it was his fate. Not that Donavon didn’t want to do all those things, too, he just didn’t really care about receiving accolades. What Donavon did care about was making his father proud. So if Mac wanted him to follow in his footsteps, Donavon would.
The more my thoughts clouded with Donavon, the madder I got at myself. My life had come full circle. It had been just a year ago that Donavon and Erik interfered with my ability to concentrate on more important issues. I was here to do a job. Not just any job. I was supposed to find out who’d leaked my identity to Ian Crane.