Inescapable (Talented Saga #7)

  Behind the fishermen and fisherwomen, clusters of teenagers roughly Emma’s age stood around wooden barrels full of the caught fish. One girl had what looked like a crudely made wooden ruler, and was measuring the fish from nose tip to tail end. Every so often she would toss one back over the bluffs, presumably if it were too small to eat. A boy had his gloved hands around the head of a pretty turquoise squid. He stroked the sea creature with his thumbs, causing it to squirt a blue-black liquid into a pail held by another boy.

  Erik.

  That damned squid was the same beautiful shade of sea green as my boyfriend’s eyes. Once again, I cast out my mental net, calling his name.

  “Erik? Can you hear me?”

  “Tal…cutoff. Something…weird going on.”

  Just like before, the reception was fuzzy, with bursts of static overpowering some of Erik’s words. Never one to give up without a fight, I tried again.

  “Safe. I am safe,” I sent. I repeated the phrase over and over again in my mind, praying the simple message would get through to him. I didn’t want Erik worrying about me.

  A hand came to rest on my arm.

  “Talia? Are you okay?” Emma asked.

  The white noise, as well as Erik’s garbled words, ceased abruptly. I sighed, annoyed and despondent. What was it about this damned island that made mental communication so difficult? Was it too much to ask for a couple of minutes of uninterrupted conversation with my boyfriend? Just enough to let him know that I was alive and well.

  I shook my head to clear thoughts of Erik. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured Emma. “I just spaced for a minute.”

  She studied me closely for several long moments. “Okay. If you’re sure. We can always go back if you’re tired.”

  “No. I’m fine, really.” I smiled. “Promise. We can stay.”

  “Good,” Ross interjected. “You definitely don’t want to miss this.” He pointed to the line of fisherman standing at the cliff’s edge.

  To distract myself, I directed my gaze to the fisherman. I watched as one of the fishing lines went taut. The woman manning the pole struggled to reel in the line, the thin shimmer of rope bucking and twisting as the two opponents at either end fought mightily to win the game of tug-o-war.

  “A little help here!” the woman shouted to no one in particular.

  The man standing beside her rounded his pole and leapt effortlessly over the side of the bluff, disappearing from view. I gasped but no one else seemed the least bit phased. They all continued on with their individual tasks with little more than a glance towards the roaring ocean.

  “It’s not a far drop,” Emma assured me. “And the water’s calm here.” She pointed to the left, to a point far off in the distance where the bluff jutted out into the ocean. Then she drew an invisible line in the air with her finger that traced the curve of the rock face, ending at another sliver of land on the right that also extended fairly far out into the ocean. “The cove keeps the wind back.”

  A moment later, the man who’d jumped into the water scrambled back up over the bluff nimbly, a knife clutched in one of his gloved hands. Both the knife and his rubber glove glistened red with blood.

  “Pull ‘er up, Dot,” he told the fisherwoman.

  Dot reeled in a now lifeless emerald green fish with curved horns like a ram and two pointy fins protruding from its back. It was enormous, easily longer than I was tall and probably weighed twice as much. But now that the fish was unable to fight back, the fisherwoman had no problem hauling it over the edge all by herself.

  “Ohhh, a horned tuna!” Emma exclaimed knowledgeably. “They’re hard to catch but so worth it. I better tell Dad to get down to the butcher shop first thing to get a few pounds.”

  “Is that thing safe to eat?” I asked.

  “The horned tuna? Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Emma replied with a laugh.

  I shrugged, feeling stupid. “I don’t know. I mean, we eat fish where I come from. But they don’t have horns or compete in the synchronized spelling bee.”

  “Well, we eat all types of sea creatures here. That tuna isn’t even the strangest looking fish you’ll see at the butcher shop,” Emma told me.

  I was doubly glad that I hadn’t inquired about the meat on stick we’d eaten for lunch. In life, it had probably had pink skin and antlers or eight eyes and a spiked tail. The thought gave me chills.

  We returned to the village with the sun still high in the sky, though it had to have been fairly late in the day. On the walk, Ross told me all about how he was an apprentice hunter and usually spent his days learning to trap and kill a slew of animals I’d never heard of for food and clothing.

  “Have you ever been hunting?” Ross asked me.

  I smiled wryly. “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “What’s the largest animal you ever caught?” he challenged, as though he didn’t believe me.

  Before I could find a delicate way to explain my hunting experiences had all been a lot less noble than his, Emma interjected, “Stop pestering her, Ross.”

  The young boy’s face fell at his sister’s rebuke. But, as I was quickly learning, Ross wasn’t one to stay down long. His smile returned as fast as it had vanished.

  “You want to see something really cool?” he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes that reminded with a pang of the one Erik wore when he was about to suggest something naughty or overtly sexual.

  Since Ross was only eleven—a fact he’d proudly announced when telling me about his apprenticeship—I doubted he was about to make a lewd comment.

  “Is it as cool as the frozen fish ponds?” I asked, trying to match his enthusiasm, but failing miserably now that Erik was once again in the forefront of my thoughts.

  As the day wore on, it seemed as though more and more things reminded me of Erik. I had to speak with him again. Like really talk to him. The brief snippets that broke through whatever barrier was interrupting our mental communication channel were not sufficient. I wanted him to know I was headed to London, eventually anyway. And I wanted to make sure Anya had made it to safety. Since they’d hatched the elaborate escape plan together, Erik must have known her final destination and a way to contact her.

  “Oh, way cooler. Like tripod cryptid cool,” Ross answered solemnly, pulling me once again back to the present.

  “Ross,” Emma warned, his name sounding like a hiss when it left her lips.

  Ross stared at his feet, pretending to be appropriately abashed. But I caught the smirk he couldn’t hide when his sister turned away.

  Curious but reluctant to cause strife between the siblings, I decided to change the subject for the time being. And as much as tripod cryptids sounded fascinating, my time alone with the duo was running thin, and I needed some answers. Once Jeb was back in the picture, I had a feeling the only way I was going to get any would be by force.

  The more time I spent on Pelia, the more confident I became that this was an island of extremely gifted individuals. Normally, I was able to pick a strong Talent out of a crowd. I’d thought Emma might be Talented because of the vibrations she was giving off. But I was starting to think that it wasn’t just Emma giving off those vibes. The entire island called to me in a way no other place had. Despite nearly freezing to death, I’d felt safe there since the moment I crashed-landed.

  I was starting to understand what Ross had meant about the energy surrounding Pelia. It was eerily similar to the energy that surrounded me.

  “So, when is the next storm supposed to hit?” I asked aloud.

  Tipping her head back and closing her eyes, Emma paused and let the sunshine warm her face. She drew in a deep breath that caused her chest to expand and her nostrils to flare.

  “By midnight, I’d say. The conditions will grow steadily worse through the day tomorrow and the brunt of the storm will come,” she filled her lungs a second time, “around dinner tomorrow evening,” Emma finished as she exhaled. “But, Mr. Pimms can give us a more accurate time table.”

/>   She began walking again as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. Stunned, it was a moment before I hurried after her.

  “Emma, are you—what’s your ability?” I’d been about to ask if she was a mind manipulator, like me, but remembered she and her family weren’t familiar with the classification terms UNITED used to describe the various talents.

  “She hasn’t got one,” Ross answered for his sister.

  “Neither do you,” Emma retorted irritably.

  Ross shook his head vehemently. “No. That’s not true. Brady says I’m super strong for my age. I can uproot a tree all on my own,” he boasted.

  “That’s not a real gift. Loads of people can do that. Come on, Dad will go through the roof if we’re late for dinner.”

  Emma increased her pace, practically running the rest of the way through the village and only slowing when she reached the steps of a comparatively large cabin.

  Dinner was indeed already on the table when we filed inside. Wonderful aromas filled the home, and my stomach grumbled loudly. It had been hours since we ate the mystery meat skewers, and I was still calorie deprived from my flight. Not to mention the gruel on Vault wasn’t exactly filling.

  Following Emma and Ross’s lead, I shed my outer layers of borrowed clothing and hung them on wooden pegs protruding from a wall by the front door.

  “Dad, we’re home!” Emma called as she deposited her muddy boots in the corner with several other pairs of equally dirty shoes.

  “It’s about time. Hurry up, Andromeda has out done herself tonight.”

  Jeb appeared in a doorway on the right, his large frame filling the entire space easily. He smiled tightly at each of his children, but when his gaze landed on me, there was nothing but suspicion lurking in his expression.

  “Natalia Lyons.”

  It felt as though one of the many icicles I’d seen that day pierced my chest. I was positive that I had not told them my full name, which meant—

  “Escaped convict, considered highly dangerous. Does that about cover it?”

  Erik

  Eden, Isle of Exile

  Three Days Before the Vote

  “Sorry to have kept you all waiting,” Victoria said by way of greeting, striding into her own office with none of her normal grace and polish. Her golden-amber eyes swept the room as she performed a quick headcount. “Good, it seems all but one person is here.” The councilwoman turned to her assistant. “Hank set up the connection.”

  Hank gave a small bow before retreating to the outer office.

  I looked around the room impatiently. In addition to Frederick, Penny, Miles, and myself, Penny’s other half, Brand Meadows, Henri Reich—my and Talia’s former teammate and longtime friend—and a man around Victoria’s age with an expensive suit and snooty accent were already seated inside the office. So whom were we waiting on?

  A moment later my question was answered. Ian Crane appeared as a hologram sitting in a comfortable looking armchair next to Victoria’s desk.

  “Ian, thank you for taking time out of your—”

  “No need to thank me, Victoria,” Crane cut her off. “I am as eager to find Talia as you are, though likely for a very different reason.”

  I smiled appreciatively at Crane, grateful he at least cared more about Talia’s wellbeing than the public relations nightmare her escape had created. Or, well, rather would have created had UNITED informed the media. Thus far, everyone wanted to keep her disappearance quiet, just as they’d kept her incarceration quiet, to prevent mass hysteria.

  “We are all on the same side, Ian,” Victoria said sharply. She gestured around the room. “Every single person in this room has a vested interest in finding Talia Lyons, one that goes beyond our organization.” The councilwoman paused and stared pointedly at first me, then Frederick, and finally Penny. “And at least three of you are capable of tracking her from a distance.” Focused back on me, she continued, “The truth, Erik, have you been in contact with Talia?”

  Nine sets of eyes bore down on me. The combined weight of their love and concern for my girlfriend made my throat constrict.

  “Erik, I know you must be very worried about her,” Crane began. “And I know you want to help her. The best way to do that is to tell us where she is. It probably feels like a betrayal—”

  “I don’t know where she is,” I snapped angrily.

  Miles put a hand on my shoulder and guided me back to my seat. Until that instant, I hadn’t realized I’d gotten to my feet.

  “Keep it together, kid,” he murmured, talking out of the side of his mouth.

  Crane still seemed skeptical.

  “He’s telling the truth, Uncle Ian,” Penny chimed in. For good measure, she added, “I haven’t spoken to her either.”

  “What you both need to understand is that UNITED is not the only people looking for Talia,” Crane said, clearly trying a different tactic to persuade us to be honest.

  “He knows, Ian,” Victoria said. “I have explained about Nightshade.”

  Identical grim expressions came over both Victoria’s and Crane’s faces. Henri, who had never mastered the art of blocking his mind but excelled in projecting his thoughts, started to ask about Nightshade. He got as far as, “What’s Ni—”, before Victoria held up her hands for silence.

  “Time is short. The treaty vote will take place in three days. Pass or fail, once the decision is made all of UNITED’s resources will be diverted to either the evacuation of those refugees selected for relocation to the Isle, or maintaining the peace in the more hostile nations. A manhunt for an escaped prisoner will no longer be a priority.”

  Personally, I found that fact uplifting. Once the heat surrounding Talia died down, she would be a lot safer. At least from UNITED.

  Victoria launched into an abbreviated version of the story she’d told Miles and me the night before. Once everyone was up to speed on the situation, the councilwoman paused to let the newcomers digest the new information. Then, she dropped her next bombshell—the planned executions of all Level Four and Five prisoners on Vault.

  Even before she’d finished speaking, the room was in an uproar. Frederick and Henri were on their feet, shouting protests to the room at large. Brand was outraged, his expression murderous. The guy might have come across as cold and unfeeling, but clearly he did have a large heart. Not even the proper dude in the expensive suit seemed to think that new plan was a good one. Only Penny, Miles, Crane, and I remained unfazed by Victoria’s little speech.

  “Everyone calm down,” Crane said from his holographic chair. His voice did not rise a single octave above normal, but the command it carried was enough to silence the protesting duo of Frederick and Henri.

  “You agree with this?” Frederick demanded.

  Crane held up his hands in a placating gesture. “It doesn’t really matter whether I agree or disagree, Frederick. The council has voted, and the decision is binding. What matters now is finding Talia and keeping her safe.”

  “Why?” Brand asked.

  “Brand,” Penny hissed, hurt by what she clearly perceived to be insensitivity.

  Brand reached over and took Penny’s hand, which she snatched out of his grasp with an annoyed huff.

  “What I mean is: Why are we specifically trying to find her? It’s ridiculous to bring her back only to execute her. Why don’t we leave her be? If the vote fails, won’t she be safer, or, I don’t know, alive, if we leave her wherever she is? Even if the vote passes, we’d only be bringing her back to face punishment.”

  “And if Nightshade weren’t involved, I would agree with you,” Crane replied. “But they are. That changes the situation drastically.” He shot a sidelong glance at Victoria. “The councilwoman and I have talked it over, and we agreed that once you all have located Talia, I will provide her asylum in the United States for the time being.”

  “So I guess you already outlined your plan with your uncle?” I sent Penny.

  “No. I haven’t had the chance. And
I certainly wasn’t going to bring Victoria into the loop,” she sent back.

  “Now, for the last time, has anyone in this room spoken to Talia?” Crane asked. He cast his penetrating stare on each of us in turn. “Erik? Frederick? Penelope?”

  “No,” Penny and Frederick replied empathically.

  “Erik?” Crane turned his penetrating gaze on me.

  But I was no longer aware of my immediate surroundings. Victoria’s office was still visible, as were all of the occupants. But interposed over the furniture and my friends were shelves of toys, an old-fashioned sales register, and several people in heavy coats with fur-lined hoods. I recognized my girlfriend’s vibrant purple eyes and freckled nose immediately.

  “Talia? Can you hear me? Talia, please tell me you’re okay? Are you safe?” I sent.

  “Erik? What’s wrong?” Crane demanded.

  I ignored him. Nothing mattered but holding on to this vision of Talia.

  “Erik…safe. Sorry…ran.”

  The words in my head were stuttered and Talia’s voice sounded distorted. After a moment, the image of the toyshop began to waver. It took every ounce of my power to hold the scene in place.

  “It’s okay, Tal. Just tell me where you are. It’s a shit show here. Frederick says he saw you looking up at something with fur. An animal maybe? Are you hurt? I’m with Crane now. He wants to send his men to bring you to the U.S., where you’ll be safe. He says he’ll grant you asylum.”

  “Erik, you’re scaring me.” This time it was Penny’s voice that nearly tore me away from Talia.

  “You’re…up. Can’t…hear. Reception…off.”

  The reception was off. Why? Why couldn’t I talk to Talia like we normally did? Was the problem on my end? Were my Created powers finally frying my brain?

  “Just tell me where you are, Tals,” I sent.

  The toy store disappeared. As did Talia’s voice inside my head.