Hunted (Talented Saga # 3) (22 page)

“Mac will get over it,” I promised him.
“You know how he is,” I added when that didn’t seem to mollify him.

“I don’t know, Talia...... He was really mad.”
Harris looked doubtful. Given the current climate in the Agency, I didn’t honestly blame him. Mac had been in an exceptionally foul mood lately.

“You want me to try and talk to him?” I guessed the reason for his visit.

“Nah, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble,” he replied quickly.

We sat in awkward silence for several long minutes.
Harris stared blankly at the window I’d opened to fumigate the room. I waived my fingers and toes as I willed them to dry faster.

“Do you miss her, too?” Harris whispered finally.

I bit my lower lip, debating whether to tell him the truth. The longing in his eyes for some confirmation that he wasn’t the only one who was hurting made me decide honesty was what he really needed.

“Yes, I do,” I replied.
“But she was a spy, Harris. She lied to all of us and she nearly got me killed,” I added, glancing nervously around the room as though someone was listening.

“Do you really believe that, Talia?
I mean, I know that’s what they’re saying, but do you really think she was capable of something like that?” Harris’s face pleaded with me to say no, but I couldn’t. Privately discussing my true feelings with Erik was one thing, admitting them to Harris was another.

“Yes, Harris.
You weren’t there. She admitted to me she was a part of the Coalition and that she was sent here to spy. I know she didn’t say much when she was interrogated, but she never denied what she was,” I said as kindly as I could manage. And that much was true. She’d never said one word to the contrary. She had lied to all of us.

“You were at her sentencing, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said slowly, not sure where he was going with this.

“I heard......Well, I heard there was a big scene......That she did something to you?” he pressed.

Crap. I seriously didn’t want to talk about this with him.

“She was a Mimic.
She mimicked my manipulation abilities to make me see things. None of it was real,” I replied firmly. It was the same line I’d repeated numerous times to Dr. Wythe and Mac so they would agree to end the therapy sessions. But lying to Harris was not as easy as lying to Mac. Part of me wanted to tell him the truth, openly share his pain. I rationalized the lie by telling myself it would make it easier for him to get over her.

Harris nodded sadly, the last spark of hope flickering out of his eyes.
I’d let him down. He came to me hoping for an ally. Instead, I lied and played Mac’s lapdog.

“Look -,” I started to say.

Harris cut me off. “I should go lay back down. I have guard duty again tonight,” he mumbled. He stood and started for the door.

“Harris,” I called after him.

“Yeah?” he said, turning to face me again, one hand on the doorknob.

“I’m sorry.
I loved her, too. I thought she was my friend, too,” I said, hoping that would at least comfort him a little.

After Harris had gone, I felt less like being alone with my own thoughts.
I didn’t want to think about our conversation or the lies I’d told him. I didn’t want to think about Penny or how much I missed her. I didn’t want to think about what she’d showed me in the courtroom; it was too painful.

In need of a distraction, I decided to call Kenly.
I hadn’t spoken to her once since I’d arrived and felt more than a little guilty about that. Since she was finished with her classes for the semester, she would be training with Donavon during the day, but I assumed by now, she would be back in her room, at least if they were following the training plan I’d devised.

Scrolling through my
comm contacts, purposely skipping over Dr. Irene Thistler, I found Kenly’s number. Before Harris’ visit, I’d been convinced that I needed my medication increased, but thinking about the unpleasant therapy sessions with Dr. Wythe had made me reconsider.

In the days after the incident with Penny, the doctors had upped my dosage to keep me in a near comatose state.
I’d been numb and compliant, easily suggestible. While I hated the way I kept flying off the handle at Erik, I wasn’t ready to revisit those feelings. At least with my current medication, I was clearheaded. Sure, I went from zero to three hundred and sixty in seconds, but at least I could process what was happening to me. Before I made any hasty decisions, I really wanted to talk to Erik. If he thought the higher dosage was necessary, only then would I call Dr. Thistler.

I selected the Kenly Baker entry and hit send.

“Hello? Talia?” she answered excitedly on the third ring.

“Hey, Kenly,” I replied, relaxing at the sound of her voice.
“How’s it going? How’s training?”

“Good, Tal.
I’ve doing so much better with my Telekinesis. Donavon has been so good to me. I even managed to almost beat him the other day!” The enthusiasm in Kenly’s voice was infectious and my mood lifted further.

I listened to her describe, in detail, all the progress she was making under Donavon’s tutelage.
She admitted she was tired, but each day found her more ready for her upcoming placement exams. Donavon had been called away to go to Bethesda on the day of the attack, so he’d filled her in on the situation. The assault made her even more determined to become a Hunter and fight for Toxic’s goals. Her dedication made me both proud and a little sad. The Coalition’s actions had majorly upped the game. Before, the war had been mostly offensive; Toxic always had the upper hand. But now, it seemed the tables might be turning. Every mission would be more dangerous, more important. Hunting assignments had always come with a degree of risk, but not like they would now. And who knew how many more spies the Coalition had placed in Toxic? More Operatives could be compromised as I’d been. I didn’t want that for Kenly.

“You’re going to be back for my exam, right?” she asked.

“I promise I’ll be there, but it doesn’t sound like you need me,” I teased.

“I want you there,” she urged.
Her words touched me. Kenly wasn’t much younger than I was – two years – but I felt protective of her, as if she were a younger sister I never had.

“I will be,” I promised.

Chapter Nineteen

At seven p.m. on the dot, I knocked on the door to Mac’s suite. His gruff, muted voice called for me to come in. I pushed the heavy door and entered his suite. Mac sat on the same leather couch as Erik and Cadence had the other morning. Paper littered every inch of the coffee table in front of him and a computer kept him company on the free cushion.

“Hey,” I called, stepping through the door, shutting it loudly behind me.

“Hello, Natalia,” he replied without looking up. “Dinner is already on the table.”

I looked to the corner of the room where five metal covered dishes sat waiting.
Mac got up from his work and went to take a seat at one end of the long table. I joined him and began uncovering the serving dishes.

“You did a nice job with the extraction yesterday,” Mac began once our plates were piled high with creamy pasta and garlic bread.

“Thank you,” I mumbled around the food filling my mouth.

“I escorted the girl to the school this morning.
She seems pleased to be joining our ranks,” Mac continued.

I gave a non-committal shrug.
Pleased wasn’t the word I would have used to describe Bethy’s attitude. More liked resigned to her fate.

“How did her mother respond when you arrived?” Mac asked, eyeing me carefully.

“Liked you’d expect, I imagine.” I shrugged again. “She wasn’t happy at first, but after I explained to her that it was in Bethy’s best interest......Well, she came around, I guess,” I said bitterly.

“Natalia,” Mac responded, a note of irritation creeping into his voice.
“You know how important it is for a child as powerful as she is to be adequately trained.”

“I know, I know,” I agreed tiredly.
“I just wish it was different, like she really believed it was for the best and not because I made her believe that.”

“It is better than the alternative,” Mac said pointedly.

“I guess,” I muttered, not bothering to ask what the alternative was. No doubt being manipulated was the lesser of two evils.

Mac twirled his pasta with his fork against the curve of the spoon and shoved the heaping bite into his mouth.
He chewed thoughtfully for longer than I thought necessary and I wondered what he was working his way up to. It was unlikely Mac had invited me to dinner just to see my smiling face. It rarely smiled at him anymore, anyway.

“So why did you want to see me?
Am I in trouble for going out last night?” I guessed while his mouth was full of salad.

Mac swallowed the vegetables and gave me a hard stare.
“No, you aren’t. Mr. Kelley cleared the outing with me first. He promised you would be home by the citywide curfew and according to the security guards, you were.”

Huh.
How responsible of Erik.

“He also promised you wouldn’t drink and my understanding is you were sober when you returned,” Mac continued, cutting the long strands of spaghetti with his knife so that he wouldn’t be forced to use the spoon again.

My table manners weren’t so refined; the pasta kept hitting me in the chin and leaving trails of sauce on my face. I didn’t contradict his intel since I had no intention of ratting myself out.

“Although, I hear that was not the case with Harris?” Mac asked, looking to me for confirmation.

So was this why he wanted me here? Did he want me to gossip about the way Harris had been behaving?

“He had a little too much to drink.
It happens,” I replied defensively.

“It is my understanding he was proclaiming Ms.
Latimore’s innocence and making defamatory statements about the Agency,” Mac said, raising his slightly graying eyebrows.

Well, maybe Erik had been wrong about Desmond.
Maybe he hadn’t kept his mouth shut.

“He’s just upset, and he was drunk.
He didn’t know what he was saying,” I argued, setting my fork against my plate with a loud clang.

“Be that as it may, I think it would be best at this juncture to have him removed from active duty pending a full investigation,” Mac replied evenly.

“What?!?!” I exclaimed. “Are you serious? Why? Hasn’t he already been investigated and cleared?”

“A rudimentary investigation, yes,” Mac said slowly.
“But I do not think we can afford to take chances, do you?”

It was a rhetorical question, but I felt the need to respond anyway.
“He’s one of Donavon’s best friends,” I pointed out. Bringing Donavon into the argument was a dirty trick, but Harris didn’t deserve to be punished for his feeling. I was willing to play every card in my deck and Donavon was my ace of spades.

“And Ms. Latimore was yours,” Mac snapped, effectively stopping any further protests I might make.

I guess he wasn’t above playing dirty, either.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked quietly.

“I just want you to remember that not everyone can be trusted. Those you think are your friends might not be.” Mac shrugged like the matter was settled, but I wasn’t ready to let it drop.

“I think I know that by now.
As you so nicely pointed out,” I replied coolly.

“I didn’t ask you here to fight, Natalia,” Mac said wearily.

“Then why did you?” I spat back.

“I have another child I need you to retrieve.
This one is not likely to come so quietly,” Mac responded.

I fought to keep my features neutral.
I didn’t want another lecture. “Do I have a choice?” I mumbled. After my experience with Bethy, I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.

Instead of answering me, Mac stood from his half-eaten dinner and walked over to the coffee table.
He shuffled through the mounds of paperwork and selected a report with several stapled pages. Walking back across the room, he held the pages out to me. I wiped my hands on the napkin in my lap and took his offering.

The report was an anonymous tip that had been called in to Toxic.
There was a small town in the Appalachian Mountain Range called Howard’s Knob. Several residents reported a young boy who was “odd” and “made people uneasy.” He was rarely seen in public, but on the rare occasion he was, the residents of his town shied away from him. He lived with his mother, but about once a month, a young man was seen leaving his house in the middle of the night. Toxic believed the boy was being actively hidden from the Agency and that he was a strong Talent of some kind.

“Odd?” I snorted.
“That is your basis for sending in your extraction team or whatever you call it? Because the kid is odd?” A lot of kids were odd. And the intel package left a lot to be desired. I thought Mac was being rash in sending in a team.

“The reactions the people have to him are similar to those people have around you, Natalia.
He is likely a very strong, elite level, Talent. We have reason to believe he and his mother live in such a remote area in the hopes that he won’t be discovered,” Mac explained.

“How old is he?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Young,” Mac replied evasively, turning his attention back to his half-eaten meal. Mac pushed the pasta around on his plate, purposely not meeting my imploring gaze.

“How young?”
I pressed, clenching my teeth. Mac’s refusal to make eye contact spoke volumes.

“Our estimates put him at three or four,” Mac admitted, finally giving up the pretense of eating.

“Three or four?” I exclaimed. Children that young rarely exhibited signs of Talent, well, unless they were exceptionally strong. I had. Some of my earliest memories were of other’s thoughts. “Why don’t we just wait until he comes through the Aptitude Testing?”

“I doubt his mother is planning on submitting him,” Mac replied.
“All reports indicate she has gone through a great deal of trouble to hide him.”

“But Mac, the law says that kids don’t have to be tested until they’re five.
If he isn’t five yet, then I don’t think we should be going to ‘collect’ him,” I said defiantly. If he thought the animosity and distrust of Toxic was high now, wait until word got out that we were kidnapping toddlers.

“I do not recall asking your opinion, Natalia,” Mac replied icily.

I blanched at the forceful tone in his voice. I set the report off to the side of my plate and resumed playing with my pasta, my appetite gone.

“Aren’t you worried about the way people will react when they find out you took a child under five away from his mother?” I tried appealing to his practical side.
Mac was nothing if not practical.

“Yes, I am.
That is why I am sending you and Mr. Kelley. Neutralize the situation. I do not want this getting out, understood?” Mac snapped.

I nodded without looking up from my plate.
I understood perfectly. And I hated it. Mac was forcing me to do exactly what he’d done to Erik, except worse. If this child was really only three or four, then taking him from his mother was against the law.

“How did you know that Erik stayed in my room the other night?” I demanded.
The discussion over whether stealing a child was ethical might be closed, but I was still itching for a fight.

Mac set his fork down and pushed his plate aside.
He didn’t shy away from my penetrating gaze. “Natalia,” he began, locking his steal eyes with mine. “Mr. Kelley’s worth to this Agency goes beyond his role as your current boyfriend.”

“I know that,” I replied defensively.

“He killed two of Crane’s men at Rittenhouse, two members of Crane’s inner circle. He was instrumental in the capture of another. After interrogating one of the captives, I had some questions for Mr. Kelley. So, when I returned from Tramblewood at four o’clock in the morning, I went to his room to speak with him. I wasn’t all that surprised to find he wasn’t there. It wasn’t a leap to determine his whereabouts.” Mac paused, weighing his next words. “Look, Natalia. What you and Mr. Kelley do in your down time is your business. I only asked him to refrain from spending the night with you out of concern for your health. I thought you understood that.”

“I do,” I said lamely.
“It’s just that you don’t put those kinds of restrictions on everyone else.”

“Everyone else doesn’t take medication to control seizures,” Mac pointed out.

Thanks for the reminder, I thought.

His words started me thinking about Anya testing my blood and Erik’s idea that I was a dual Talent.
Did I dare confront Mac now? If knowledge were power, then Mac had all the power. All I had were a handful of farfetched theories and wild accusations. Best to wait, I decided.

I finished my meal in silence, the pasta tasting like cardboard, the thick sauce congealing in my mouth.
Mac made a couple attempts at meaningless conversation, but I managed little more than one word replies. As soon as I could excuse myself without being totally rude, I did.

Mac walked me to the door.
“The extraction is better this way, Natalia. You and Mr. Kelley can make sure we retrieve the child with as little bloodshed as possible. I promise the mother won’t be harmed or sanctioned so long as she gives up the child. Just be prepared for the worst,” he said softly.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” I whispered.

“Commander Byrnes and his team will be ready at four a.m. I want you all in North Carolina by sunrise.” Mac hugged me, and I reluctantly reciprocated.

Back in my room, I had little time to mull over my new assignment.
The light on my communicator was flashing and I gratefully pushed it, assuming it would be Erik. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I was wrong.

“Hey, Talia,
its Anya. A couple of us were getting together for dinner tomorrow, wanted to see if you were interested. Same place as last time? Send me a comm back if that works.”

I stood frozen in the middle of the hotel room.
She had the blood results. Anya knew what was wrong with me. Sure, her message didn’t hint at that, but we weren’t actually friends and she wasn’t really calling to invite me to hang out. The only reason for her to call was the blood work.

Eagerly, I sent her a quick message, confirming I would meet her at five.
That would give me plenty of time to get back from my dreaded mission in North Carolina and make it out to the food court and back by curfew, I thought.

No sooner had I sent the message than Erik finally appeared at my door for the first time that day.
Exhaustion deepened the shadows under his eyes. No trace of humor or excitement sparked life in his irises. They were dull and flat. He was in a foul mood. Disgust and despair seeped from his pores, making the air in the room feel oppressive. The acrid smell of burnt chemicals and death stung my nose when I hugged him, nearly choking me.

Erik said nothing when he grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the bed.
Agitation made him restless and distant; I didn’t need a mental connection to read his thoughts. I hated seeing him this way. He was always so strong: the rock that kept me steady, the gravity that kept me grounded. My chest ached as I watched the horrible images of the destruction at Rittenhouse float through his head. I wanted to help him, make him feel better, ease the tension, as he’d done for me countless times before.