Defector (12 page)

I could feel Devon staring at me. “I don’t know,” I said. “But I need to find out. That’s why we need to find her.” I tried to think back to the happier years with my mother, but the early memories were almost faded. “I don’t think the happy period lasted for long. I think the running got to my mother pretty fast, but what really did her in was when I showed signs of my Variation. It reminded her of everything she’d worked so hard to forget. I think that’s when she lost it and started hating me.”

Devon’s hand reached for mine, and he laced my fingers through his. He did it with such an ease and casualness, as if we’d been friends—or more—for years. “She doesn’t hate you,” he said softly. But he couldn’t know. He had never met my mother, had never seen the disgust in her eyes when she’d caught me using my talent.

I didn’t say anything, just closed my eyes.

• • •

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours from the way my body felt. Sluggishly I lifted my head, wondering what had woken me. The beam of a spotlight swiveled across our tent. I peered out of the gap. It was dark outside except for the spotlights, but I could make out the shape of police lights on the roof of a car.

“Devon,” I hissed, shaking his shoulder. He turned around, blinking back sleep.

“What’s up?”

“The police,” I said quietly. Devon sat up, eyes wide. “They’re searching for us. You have to get out and hide somewhere. Quick!”

He got to his knees, confusion showing on his face. “Why?”

“Hurry,” I whispered. “I’m fine here, but you need to stay hidden.” When the police car pulled into the parking lot, there was a moment when the trees hid the truck bed from their view. “Now.” I half pushed Devon out of the tent. He landed with a gentle thud on the asphalt, and I watched him dart into the bushes beside the truck, crouching in the brush. We couldn’t risk being caught. I wriggled out of my clothes, stashed them in my sleeping bag, then snatched jogging pants and a shirt from Devon’s bag and gingerly slipped them on.

The crunching of tires on asphalt stopped close by. The police car had come to a halt beside ours. I took a deep breath, recalled the memory of Uncle Scott’s appearance, and let the rippling wash over me. I heard their steps coming closer and saw the beam of a flashlight growing larger and brighter as they approached the tent. I lay very still except for the shaking of my limbs as I transformed into the form of Uncle Scott. I willed the transformation to go faster. If the police officers caught me mid-change, we’d all be in a shitload of trouble.

When the rippling in my body died down, the police officer stopped in front of the tent opening. He rapped his flashlight against the side of the truck. “This isn’t a campsite,” he shouted. “Come out.”

I pretended to wake and crawled to the opening of the tent before poking my head out. From the corner of my eye, I could see Devon crouching in the bushes, and in the same instant, I saw a flicker where the police car stood. For the briefest moment its appearance had shimmered and revealed another car underneath. What the hell?

My eyes flew to the man in front of me, and now that I really focused, I could see that something wasn’t right with his uniform. It was almost like a hologram, or in the movies, when they tried to use animated characters in the place of real actors. It looked like the real character, but you just knew something was wrong. It was too dark to make out much except for the white glow of his eyes in his black face, but I knew his clothes and the car were an illusion. His arm twitched, and my eyes darted downward. He was holding a syringe in his right hand. The only thing that had probably stopped him from plunging it into my neck was my appearance. He seemed unsure if I was who they were looking for.

I didn’t give him a chance to make up his mind. My arm shot out, and I punched him square in the jaw. He stumbled back, and the illusions flickered out, revealing a man in civilian clothes standing before a black car. Was it the FEA or Abel’s Army?

He lifted a walkie-talkie. “She’s here.”

D
evon jumped out of the bushes, and in the same instant a second man popped into view—out of thin air. I saw a flash of red hair. Holly’s abductor! So we were being hunted by Abel’s Army after all. I swung myself off the truck bed and aimed a high kick at the man’s head. Redhead leaned back, lessening the blow, but I busted his lips. Devon was struggling against the man with the syringe. I aimed another punch at my opponent, but he ducked. He barreled into me. The air left my lungs in a whoosh, but I didn’t fall. I drove my elbow into his eye. His cry of pain was joined by the sound of a body slamming against the car. Devon stood over the other man, who was lying on the ground motionless, his head bleeding. He must have barreled hard into the side of the truck.

I turned my focus back to my opponent and tried to kick his legs out from under him, but he stumbled backward and disappeared with a pop. A second later, he reappeared beside his partner, gripped his arm, and they both vanished into thin air. I was breathing hard, but I didn’t let my guard down. They could return at any time. What about their car? Slowly I changed back to my own body. I pulled the strings tight so the jogging pants wouldn’t slip off and turned to Devon. My heart gave a heavy thud. He was leaning against the truck. The syringe was stuck in his arm. I rushed over to him and pulled it out. “Devon?” I said in a panicky voice. “Are you okay?”

He gave me a weak smile. “I think there was tranquilizer in the syringe. I feel a little fuzzy, but my body is fighting against it. Meds usually don’t take effect because of my Variation. I think that really scared the shit out of my opponent.”

“Come on.” I helped him into the passenger seat before I quickly dismantled the tent enough for us to drive away. I was sure they’d return soon. I slipped behind the steering wheel and drove off. Devon struggled to stay awake beside me.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

He nodded. “Just let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again. I really need a good night of sleep.” I forced a smile, but inside I was in full-on panic mode. How had Abel’s Army found us? And so quickly? They’d been able to find us before we had any idea how to find Holly.

• • •

Twenty-six hours and another night in the tent later, Devon and I reached Detroit. We hadn’t been attacked again, but I knew it was only a matter of time before either the FEA or Abel’s Army caught up with us.

Carl lived on the outskirts of town, in the same house he’d shared with my mother and me more than two years ago. Telephone lines bridged the street above us, some of the antennas askew. Pigeons walked the pavement, picking the ground for food. It was early in the afternoon, but this part of town, crowded with old warehouses, was deserted. We pulled onto the street that led to my old neighborhood. I didn’t recognize any of the few people on the street, but I hadn’t exactly been social when I’d lived here.

“That’s it,” I said, pointing at a small, brown house with peeling paint, a broken banister, and jam-packed garbage cans. A shopping cart stood forgotten on the sidewalk in front of it. Someone had probably stolen it—or what people around here used to call it: borrowed for good.

Devon pulled up at the sidewalk, but we didn’t get out of the truck immediately. I stared at the shabby house that had once been my home. It felt strange to come back. Last time I’d sent a letter to my mom at this address, it had been returned. My mother hadn’t stayed with a man for longer than two years for as long as I could remember.

I pushed the door open and got out. A dog barked in one of the neighbor’s houses. It sounded big and angry. Maybe it was the same mutt that had chased me on my way to school once.

“You okay?” Devon asked as he stopped beside me.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if it was true. I took a deep breath and walked toward the door. The front garden was missing patches of grass, and a few heaps of dog poop littered the rest of it. I knocked at the door and looked around. It smelled of pee and exhaust. This was nothing like Devon’s house. He had a place he could truly call home.

“Do you think someone already knows we’re here?” Devon asked, shifting nervously on his feet, hands in his pockets.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Major probably thinks I don’t have the guts to return to this place, considering how much I hated it and Carl. But we still shouldn’t stay here for longer than absolutely necessary. We need to see if he has any information and then keep moving.”

I rang the bell but didn’t hear it echo inside the house. It was probably broken, which didn’t surprise me, considering the state of the rest of the house. I hammered against the door, then paused to listen for any sign of life inside.

“Maybe he’s at work.”

I snorted. If Devon knew Carl like I did, he wouldn’t have said that. “No, he’s there,” I said. “He’s probably just in a drunken stupor. It takes a while for him to get out of that.”

Devon gave me an odd look, and I turned away, focusing on the peeling white paint of the door. I rammed my fist against it a few more times, feeling the wood vibrate on its hinges.

“Careful, or you’ll break the thing down,” Devon joked.

I stopped and turned to look around at the neighborhood once more. Nobody had come out of their house to see what caused the noise. No one was concerned by someone screaming and banging in the neighborhood. Domestic violence and screamed disputes happened here on a daily basis. Suddenly the door ripped open and a wave of sweat and alcohol washed over me. I remembered it well. A smell that was ripe with a life ruined, the scent of hopelessness.

Carl stood in the gap of the doorway. His eyes were bleary and his face unshaven, but at least he was dressed in what looked to be a clean tank top and jeans. I’d seen him worse. He squinted at me as he held on to the doorframe, probably to steady himself. He was drunk. Not a big surprise.

He blinked a few times and then seemed to really recognize me for the first time. “Tessa, that you?” The words had a slight slur to them, but at least they were intelligible.

“Yes, it’s me. I need to talk to you, Carl,” I said.

Carl’s eyes flickered over to Devon, who stood so close to me that our arms were brushing.

Hearing my name from Carl’s mouth felt strange. When I’d lived with him and my mother, I’d only ever heard him shout it in contempt or anger. Now he sounded almost . . . happy to see me. Nearly nostalgic. Maybe the years of alcohol and loneliness had finally taken their toll.

Carl stepped back to give us room to enter, still gripping the door. He was unsteady on his legs but managed to keep his balance. “Come in.”

We walked in, and Carl shut the door behind us. The tangy smell of beer was even worse now that the fresh air supply from outside was cut off. “How about I make some coffee?” I said. I wanted Carl as sober as possible when we had our talk.

“Sure,” Carl said. “Make yourselves at home. I’m going to wash up upstairs. Why don’t you go into the living room?” Gripping the banister, he walked up the stairs. He’d never been this civil to me.

A weight settled in my stomach as I stepped into the kitchen and turned the light on. The sink was filled with dishes, the remains of food crusted on them. The garbage was piled high in the trash bin, ready to be taken outside. Everything was as I remembered it. The memory of my last day in this house flashed in my mind.

Misty white. The glass fogged over, my warm breath eating away at the sheen of frost. Stiff-fingered, I wiped at the clouded glass. The soft glow of the streetlamp flowed into my room. It cast a dim light on the bare walls and stained carpet.

Outside, two shapes disappeared into the shadows. The yellow-white glare grasped for them, but they were wrapped in darkness. Cold clawed at my cheeks and nose. I strained my eyes, but the two forms remained indistinct shapes.

A gentle breeze sent the snowflakes whirling around on the street, past overstuffed trashcans, the three-wheeled car nobody had driven for months, and the shopping cart that Mrs. Cross from across the street had stolen from Target a few days ago. My eyes darted back to the place where the two forms had stood—but they were gone.

I pulled my legs up, away from the frigid heater, and pressed them against my chest. If Carl hadn’t spent all of our money on booze, it would be warm here.

The sound of shouting, the words too mangled and slurred to make sense of them, carried through the thin walls into my room.

I felt cold all over again. Mom’s high-pitched reply to Carl wasn’t even coherent. I pushed myself off my cold perch, and my bare feet landed on the old carpet with its ever-present smell of mold. Something sticky pressed against the sole of my foot, but I didn’t bother to check what it was. Probably the beer Carl had spilled when he stumbled into my room instead of the bathroom a few days ago.

The shouting hadn’t stopped yet.

I shuffled out of my room and into the hallway, not caring that dust bunnies stuck to my feet. The bathroom was even colder than the rest of the house, and black mold covered the wall near the shower. I pushed the door shut and turned on the light. After a few flickers, the bulb started glowing, and the mirror threw my reflection back at me.

Was it even my face? Maybe I’d lain next to another newborn in the baby ward and decided that her face was better than mine. I moved closer until I could see every fingerprint and toothpaste stain on the mirror. Tiredness was etched into my skin. I shut my eyes, though it wasn’t necessary for the shift. The familiar rippling washed over me.

The sensation died down, and I risked a look at my reflection.

The door banged open, and Mom stood in the doorway, her mascara smudged and her lips bust open. For a moment she stared at me as if I was everything evil and bad wrapped into one body. As if I were responsible for whatever had just happened to her. The look of horror changed to anger as she grabbed my arm.

“What are you doing? How often do I have to tell you not to do this? Do you want Carl to find out? Do you want something bad to happen to us? Why can’t you be normal?”

Mom flipped the switch and bathed us in darkness, as if she couldn’t bear looking at me, before she went on. “I’ve been trying to hide your strangeness for so many years, but you never listened. Everything’s your fault.” Leaving me in the dark, she stalked off. Guilt burned a path through my stomach. Abnormal. Monster. Thief. That’s what I was. A freak who could steal other people’s appearances.

I blinked to get rid of the prickling sensation in my eyes. The shape of my face shifted again, and when the tearing stopped, I moved closer to the mirror. Brown eyes instead of turquoise, same auburn hair but thicker and with more waves.

I forced Mom’s expression to soften until there was a look on her face I’d never seen directed at me. My lips trembled when I moved them and her voice came out. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.” My expression twisted, became more like the one I was used to seeing.

The doorbell jolted me out of the moment, and I dropped Mom’s appearance.

“Tessa, get your ass down here. There’s someone who wants to see you,” Mom shouted.

I hurried down the steps toward the unfamiliar voices, but Mom grabbed my arm. “You brought this onto yourself.” Her nails dug into my skin, and I tried not to wince.

Shaking her off, I glared at her. “What do you mean? I didn’t do anything.”

I entered the living room. Two men stood in their prim suits amid the ragged furniture and empty beer bottles. Their faces turned toward me. I took a step back when my eyes locked with a pair of gray ones.

They belonged to the taller and much younger of the two. He had the most amazing eyes I’d ever seen. They kept me frozen to the spot.

I cleared my throat. “You’re here to see me?”

The older man nodded. His slicked-back black hair didn’t move an inch. “Yes. I’m Major Antonio Sanchez. I was about to speak to your father about the reason for our visit.”

“He’s not my father.” The words shot out before I could stop them.

“Ungrateful brat.”

My skin burned from Carl’s words. He’d called me worse, but not in front of strangers. I knew better than to bring anyone home.

“Go get us some cigarettes. I’ll handle this alone,” Mom said, surprising me and maybe even herself. I couldn’t remember her voice ever sounding as firm when she spoke with one of her boyfriends.

Carl glanced between the two men and Mom, probably deciding they would interfere if he hit her, before he stumbled toward the front door. “Whatever. Suit yourself. The brat’s not mine.”

Major Sanchez waited for the bang of the door before he spoke. “As we discussed on the phone, this is the best for your daughter. She’ll be safe and cared for, and she’ll live among people like herself, other Variants, and learn to control her Variation.”

The younger guy nudged me. “Nice to meet you. I’m Alec.” He pushed a hand into his black hair, tousling it even more. “I heard about your talent. The agency has been talking about nothing else since your mother called us.”

Mom had called them to get rid of me? She’d told strangers about my abnormality? But she’d always tried so hard to hide it.

“So you’re taking her with you?” Mom asked, calm and controlled, even hopeful.

Screams built in my lungs.

“Yes. But you can keep in touch and visit Tessa whenever you like.”

She shook her head. “No. It’s for the best if we don’t remain in contact.”

My insides collapsed and the silent screams with them. I’d come to terms with the fact that she didn’t love me, that she could barely tolerate me most of the time, but that she despised me enough to leave me to the mercy of strangers?

“Okay, everything’s settled then,” Major Sanchez said. “Tessa, we’re taking you with us.” Mom’s back was the last thing I saw. She left the room as they led me away, and didn’t even turn around once.