Preda's Voice (Guardians of Vaka Book 1) (4 page)

6

“Y
ou can speak freely with me, Preda, but I’m about to tell you something that will be difficult for you to process,” Mr. Fox said.

“Try me,” whispered Preda.

She thought about all the life-changing events that had occurred this morning. Nothing Mr. Fox, if that was even his real name, could possibly tell her could be worse than finding out she could kill a man by screaming.

“Let me properly introduce myself,” he said as if he could read her thoughts. “My name is Tamron Fox. I have been assigned to you for the duration of your life—or mine. It is my goal, after all, that you should outlive me.”

Preda interrupted him. “Assigned? Who assigned you?”

“Your mother.”

He had been right. This was already difficult to believe. “My mother?” she stammered. “You must be mistaken. My mother is in an asylum. She has been since I was a baby.”

Mr. Fox sighed in consternation. “I’m sorry, Preda, but your mother died saving your life.” Preda noticed that as he spoke an expression of deep sorrow and regret crossed his features. “I promise I will tell you about her, but first you must understand. You are not who you think you are. You are not even human.”

Preda stared at him for a long second and finally let out a sharp laugh. Fiver groaned and readjusted himself in her lap at the noise. “OK. Now I know you’re lying! Thank you for that, Mr. Fox. I really needed a laugh.”

Tamron Fox’s gaze did not falter. He stared at her intently as she fidgeted with Fiver on her lap. Preda started to wonder if she was dreaming. This man with whom she could actually converse was surely a hallucination brought on by the traumatic events of that morning.

She sighed at the thought and felt suddenly disappointed that she had already crossed the threshold into insanity.
It would be nice to be able to talk to someone in reality.
As she was just about to inform him he was a figment of her imagination, Mr. Scott walked back into the room carrying a large tray of food.

Preda stared wide-eyed as Mr. Scott rested the feast on the coffee table in front of her. Not only had he delivered on the promised tomatoes, but there were a variety of cheeses, breads, jams, and sliced meats as well. Her mouth watered. She hoped this at least was real. She looked up at Mr. Scott to thank him and realized he was wringing his hands anxiously and awaiting her approval.

Preda didn’t know if she could speak to him too, but if she was losing her mind anyway, she figured she might as well try. “Thank you,” she said. “This is exactly what I need right now.”

Mr. Scott slumped into a chair in relief, and Preda shook her head in wonder. She quickly overcame her amazement and started to dig into the food in front of her. As she brought the first piece of fancy cheese to her mouth—she had never tasted any other kind than American—Fiver swiped it out of her hand with his front paw.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Fiver. I forgot about you,” she said to the purring cat.

Mr. Fox and Mr. Scott exchanged amazed glances, and they both started laughing at Preda’s deference to the cat. Fiver disposed of his prize and then looked up at Preda expectantly and licked his chops. Without even thinking she reached down and grabbed him a slice of meat. Both men stared at her as she fed the cat until he finally seemed satisfied and started licking his paws.

Once she was sure Fiver was finished with his food, Preda gratefully dug into the plate for herself. It was delicious. She thought it was the best food she had ever eaten—although that could have been partly because it had been at least twenty-four hours since her last meal.

Mr. Scott admonished Mr. Fox as soon as he realized how hungry Preda had been. “I can’t believe you spent all that time with her in the car and didn’t think to feed her.”

“My main objective was to get her here. Safely,” he said.

Preda thought he looked a little ashamed under Mr. Scott’s withering glare, and she chuckled under her breath.

“What is so humorous? Weren’t you starving? You haven’t eaten since yesterday. Why didn’t you speak up?” Mr. Scott was practically yelling at her now.

Preda laughed harder under his tirade. She felt a little delirious. Her hysteria only heightened as both men stared incredulously at her. They must have finally realized they were harboring a madwoman.

“Speak up, Mr. Scott?” she asked between fits of laughter. “If you knew anything about me, you would know how impossible that is!”

Mr. Scott looked slightly embarrassed as realization dawned on him. His anger then turned again on Mr. Fox. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you? She probably thought she was going to prison…or worse.”

Preda finally calmed down and started to hiccup quietly on the couch. After the reality of what Mr. Scott said finally sank in, she asked, “Where
am
I going? Can I stay here?”

Mr. Fox exhaled loudly and answered her. “No. You won’t be staying here. We’re going to take you home.”

Home?
Preda stared at both men expectantly. Her eyes pleaded for more information. She knew he didn’t mean the house she had just left behind.
Where could he possibly be talking about?

“Look, Preda, I know this is hard to believe,” Mr. Fox started. “I also know this has been an incredibly difficult day. You’re not in trouble with anyone here, but you are in danger. There are those who mean to do you harm. You must trust me and do exactly as I say if we are to survive this.”

Preda was about to start laughing again, but the look on both men’s faces made her think better of it. She kept her silence. She tried desperately to process his words and take him seriously. This was tough to do when she was still convinced this wasn’t real. “Gentlemen, I don’t know what danger you perceive me to be in, but what you likely don’t know is that my father made it his life’s business to ensure no one ever knew me well enough to care who I was.”

“He should have done better,” Mr. Scott burst out. He suddenly stood and started pacing the room. “This is all happening the wrong way. This is not how she was supposed to find out, Tamron.”

Tamron Fox had his head in his hands and sighed in exhaustion. “That man was not your father, Preda. Your father was a good man. He was someone worth following.”

Preda’s heart skipped a beat, and she sat up straighter. “Look at me,” she pleaded.

Mr. Fox lifted his head and locked eyes with her.

After a few seconds she gasped. “You’re not lying to me. This isn’t a dream, is it?”

He shook his head slowly. “The reason you can speak to us is that we are already devoted to you. We have been since you were born. I could never lie to you, but you can’t control me against my will.”

“But you lied to me today. You’re not a detective.”

“I never told you I was. You believed what you wanted to believe.”

Preda’s mind quickly backtracked over her time with Mr. Fox, and she couldn’t think of a single time he had directly deceived her. Something else he said struck her then. “I can’t control anyone against his or her will. I can only hurt people.” Her father had told her this, and she had always known it to be true.

Mr. Scott chimed in then. “No, Preda. We will teach you how to control it, but you can do so much more than you think with that voice of yours.”

Preda looked at Mr. Scott and felt a little hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me I could talk to you?” she asked. “I had no one.”

She knew she was feeling sorry for herself then. Preda could see how Mr. Scott was struggling against her words, but she didn’t care. Tears were running down her face, and she picked Fiver up and held him against her chest as she stood. This was too much to process.

Mr. Scott wore an injured expression. “We should let her sleep. We can tell her more tomorrow,” he said.

Mr. Fox made as if to object, but he could see Preda was instantly relieved at the thought of going to bed. It was, however, the thought of being alone that she really looked forward to.

“Fine, but we are getting up at dawn, Preda. We are leaving tomorrow,” Mr. Fox said.

Preda nodded. She knew she wouldn’t have a choice. There was nothing else left in her life except these two men and her cat. Preda made to pick up the tray after Fiver had carefully balanced himself on her shoulders.

Mr. Scott stopped her with a gentle hand on hers. “I will take care of this. Your room is the second one on the left at the end of the hall. There are pajamas on the bed, and there’s a toothbrush by the sink in the bathroom next door.”

Preda straightened and numbly nodded. She wanted to thank him, but her voice was tired. She hadn’t spoken this much, except maybe to Fiver and a tomato plant, in her entire life. She turned and left them both without saying good night.

When Preda entered the bedroom, she gasped. The pajamas on the bed were soft, and the bed itself looked brand-new and comfortable. That wasn’t what caught her attention, though. On the windowsill was a familiar ceramic pot with a crack down the side that her hands had repaired with glue. She walked in to the room toward the pot, and Fiver hastily jumped off her shoulders and onto the bed.

Preda picked up the pot in her hands and inspected the delicate purple orchid growing inside. Who was she to Mr. Scott that he would save a broken pot for her?

She had so many questions. If Phillip Torrance wasn’t her father, then why had she been with him for her whole life up until now? She felt sure this must be a mistake. Why would he have moved her all around the country if he wasn’t even related to her? Phillip Torrance hadn’t loved her. She was certain of that, but he had been afraid of her. These men weren’t.

Preda shook her head and put down the pot Mr. Scott had saved for her. She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand and went to change and brush her teeth. Fiver noticed it was time for bed and quickly found the litter box left for him in the corner of the room while she went into the bathroom.

Preda looked in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize her exhausted face, except for the striking bright green eyes staring back at her. Her eyes had always set her apart as strange. As if not speaking to the other children at school wasn’t enough, she also had to have freakishly green eyes. She closed them as she finished brushing her teeth and refused to look at them again. Mr. Fox’s voice resonated in her head. “You’re not even human.” Preda slammed the door to the bathroom in frustration as she left.

As she crawled into bed, Fiver jumped up next to her. He was purring and kneading the pillow beneath her long black hair. She heard the muffled sound of the two men still talking to each other in the living room. At first she rolled over and tried to shut out their voices, but curiosity got the better of her.

Preda crept slowly and silently out of the room and down the hall. Their voices got louder as she made her way toward the light coming from the living room. She stopped with her back against the wall at the end of the hallway, and she slid down until she was sitting with her knees pulled up.

“I can’t believe you told her that way,” Mr. Scott whispered harshly. “She could have used a friend. Not someone hitting her in the face with reality.”

“We’re not her friends, Al.”

That’s Foxy,
Preda thought. Then she smiled at her new nickname for him.
So Mr. Scott’s name is Al. It must be short for Alfred or something.

“I know.” Mr. Scott sighed. “I just think she needs us to be her supporters, Tamron. What if she’s not strong enough to do this? What if that bastard Phillip messed her up?”

Mr. Fox was about to answer when there was a vibrating buzz that must have been a cell phone. Suddenly he was whispering harshly. “Hello?” Then there was a pause. “I can’t believe you would call this number after I specifically asked you not to. What? Yes. Of course we have her. Yes. She’s safe.” He sighed then. “You do not have permission to rendezvous there. I will send someone for you shortly. Await your new orders. Do not call again unless it’s an emergency.”

After a moment of silence, Mr. Scott sounded amused. “Was that who I think it was?”

Foxy answered in a clipped tone. “I don’t know who else you would think it could be.”

Mr. Scott chuckled then. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to argue anymore. Let’s just agree on what we’re going to tell her before leaving.”

Preda leaned forward on the carpet so she could hear better, and her pajamas gave off a jolt of static electricity that made her jump and hit her hand on the wall sharply. Both men stopped talking, and she froze. Suddenly Foxy rounded the corner. He had moved so quickly and silently, she hadn’t even heard him get up. “How did you—” Preda started to ask.

He extended his hand and interrupted her. “You are going to bed, and so are we. Now,” he said sternly.

Preda tentatively put her hand in his, and he lifted her as if she was no bigger than a toddler. After she walked back to her room and made to shut the door, she saw all the lights go off behind her. Clearly they were done talking for the night. Preda closed the door and realized there was a working lock on the doorknob. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been able to lock herself in a room. With a sense of satisfaction, she clicked the lock shut and scrambled into bed.

Preda tried to stay awake and process everything she had learned that day into a logical story, but she was unable to keep her eyes open. Even though Foxy had said she was in danger, she felt oddly safe for the first time in her life.
Maybe it’s the lock on the door,
she thought. She knew it was more than that, though.

Preda hummed a lullaby she had made up when she was a child playing alone in her room. She always heard it in her head before falling asleep. She drifted off that night with Fiver tangled in her hair.

7

W
ill watched Preda closely as she left the classroom that morning. He tried to convey reassurance in his expression as she was led away. Her face looked as though she was being led toward a gallows for hanging. As he thought about it, Will wondered if that wasn’t so far from the truth.

After the door closed, the whispering rose to loud laughter and speculation. Ms. Brown turned an annoyed expression on the class, and everyone quieted down as she walked back to her desk. As she started to drone on again about the Gothic War, her voice turned to buzzing in Will’s ears. History usually fascinated him, but his attention was focused elsewhere.

Will dropped his left hand and made a sign with his index and middle fingers to indicate a request to meet. This was intended for his classmate Jim Acres, who was sitting in the back of the classroom. A not-so-subtle sneeze was the affirmative answer to his request.

Ms. Brown turned toward Jim with exasperation. “Bless you, Mr. Acres. You really do need to take care of those allergies.”

“I know, Ms. B.,” Jim replied smoothly. He was all smiles.

Several girls giggled before turning back to the front of the classroom, and Ms. Brown smiled in spite of herself. Jim was one of those people whom everyone liked, and he happened to be Will’s best friend. What nobody here realized was they were also mission operatives together. The target of their shared mission had just walked out of that classroom door unexpectedly and way ahead of schedule.

Will risked a glance back at Jim and looked for some sign that this was a part of the plan. Jim met his glance, shrugged nonchalantly, and leaned back in his chair so the two front legs were off the ground. A girl—Will thought her name was Silvia—passed Jim a note, and he playfully crumpled it up and shoved it in his mouth as if he was going to eat it. Silvia let out a gasp, and Ms. Brown turned sharply in their direction.

Jim closed his mouth around the paper and tried to maintain a straight face. Ms. Brown, however, had had enough interruptions for one day. She stomped over to him and held her hand out. Jim had a chagrined look on his face as he carefully spit the note out onto her palm. She opened the offending paper with her fingertips so as to avoid coming in contact with too much saliva. She held it out in front of her to read aloud for the class.

“‘Dear Jim,’” she read. “‘You and Will are going to our party, right? He never comes out, but maybe tonight you both will get lucky. Winking face,’” finished Ms. Brown.

If Will hadn’t been so freaked out about what had just happened with Preda, he would have laughed. Instead he continued to shake his leg with nervous energy and anxiously glance at the clock.

Ms. Brown walked up behind him and asked amid all the laughter from his classmates, “Are you and Mr. Acres going to the party tonight, Will?”

Will smiled up at her and tried to look as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Of course not,” he replied. “We’re leaving this city.”

The bell rang, and he grabbed his bag. He was out the door before she could even say a word in reply.

“Are you crazy?” Jim demanded when he caught up to Will in the hallway. “You have to act as if you belong here. As if you’re a student.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You know we can’t blow our covers.”

“What covers?” Will turned away from his locker abruptly. “Are you blind? Didn’t you see who that was taking her away? Our job is finished here. We have to leave.”

Jim leaned in so as not to be overheard. “I can’t believe what you’re saying. You know we can’t do anything without new orders.”

Will took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “Our orders, Jim, are to watch over her. Plain and simple.”

“Oh. That’s it.” Jim threw his hands up in the air dramatically. “I knew you shouldn’t have talked to her so much. I knew that was a bad idea. What did she say to you? Are you under her control?”

“She hasn’t spoken a word to me,” he replied softly.

“Wait. Really? How did the girl ever resist your charms?” Jim said with a sarcastic bite.

Will quickly grabbed a phone and an unlabeled envelope from his locker, and looked around at all the faces turned toward them. He turned a meaningful glance on his friend and indicated they should leave before making more of a scene.

“Where we gonna go, Will?” Jim asked.

“We’re going back to the island until we get orders to do otherwise,” replied Will with determination, and he walked straight back toward the doors leading out of the building.

Jim stood stock-still for a moment with his mouth hanging slightly open. “Will, you can’t go there without permission. You know that. How can we even afford to get there?” Jim was practically jogging to catch up as he wove in and out of the crowd of students.

“Hey, Jim!” a girl called out as they were leaving.

Jim turned just in time to see the kiss she was blowing in his direction. He growled as he struggled to keep up with a very determined Will.

“You have to call him. You know that,” he said to Will as they pushed past the double doors and walked toward the parking lot. “People are going to be talking about us leaving in the middle of the day. It’s going to create a scene. Just think for a minute about what you’re doing.” Jim was practically begging now. “It isn’t going to help her if we draw attention to ourselves.”

This last statement made Will stop walking. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he stared for a minute at the gravel underneath his shoes.

“Fine,” he conceded. “We finish the day, but then we call him. I’m leaving tonight regardless of his answer.”

The rest of the day was a blur for Will. He went to his classes in a daze. He kept repeating the events of that morning in his head and the look on her face as she left the classroom. At lunch he sat alone.
Why was Preda retrieved so early?
he wondered.
What could possibly have happened?
Anxiety for the people he knew back home forced him to consider that it wasn’t something that had happened here to force their hands. The Soundless might have finally taken action.

Jim kicked him in the leg as he sat down next to him at the lunch table, which interrupted Will from the dangerous line of thought. As usual three girls followed Jim to the otherwise empty table. One of them was Ashley Burke, an annoying blonde who liked to talk down to Preda. Will sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

The look on Jim’s face was one of forced joviality. Will forced himself to take a cue from his friend, and with barely a trace of the emotion he felt roiling through him, he smiled. “Good afternoon, ladies. How are you on this fine day?”

One of them—Will thought her name might be Kerri—started talking animatedly. “Oh, Will, you were there, weren’t you? We heard the cops came and took the mute girl to prison!”

Another girl chimed in before he could reply. “No, Kerri. They took her away in a straitjacket. Ben Pearson said so.”

Will clenched his jaw to keep from drawing attention to himself. Jim smoothly interceded. “Ladies, you know it wasn’t like that. It was just the school principal. Nothing major.”

Jim took a bite of apple and winked at Will as if it was all just a big joke.

“But that’s not what Silvia said.” Kerri wasn’t about to let it go.

“She’s always following you around, Will,” Ashley Burke said too innocently. “What do you think happened to her?”

She looked at him with carefully lowered eyelashes and a sickly sweet smile. Will glanced at Ashley’s expectant face and decided she thought too much of herself. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but Jim elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“Silvia said we were going to her party tonight. You ladies going?” Jim asked, and he smiled.

With that they started talking excitedly about what they were going to wear and which girls they didn’t want to show up. Will felt slightly nauseated as the conversation continued. It wasn’t until Jim kicked him again that he realized his leg was bouncing up and down and causing the table to vibrate.

“You OK, Will?” Kerri asked. “You nervous about the game tomorrow night? Don’t worry. We’ll cheer our hearts out for you!”

Will mumbled his thanks and stood up to bring his tray back. The rest of the day went by in a series of similar exchanges before the last bell finally signaled his freedom from the charade. He stood and unzipped his bag to ensure the phone and envelope were still where he had left them, and made a quick getaway to the car.

When he was safely in the driver’s seat of his old green station wagon, the passenger door opened abruptly. Jim quickly got in. His friend finally had a serious expression, and Will slowly shook his head. He wished he could feign ignorance as easily as Jim seemed to be able to.

“We need to drive away from here before we call him,” Jim said.

He was all business now. Will nodded and pulled out of the parking lot a little too fast. His nervous energy had built up for too long, and when they were on the highway, he was speeding. Jim seemed to understand his friend’s need to move quickly after stalling for the entire day, and he remained silent. He was tense, though, in the passenger seat.

Will drove to Miami International Airport without even thinking about it. Jim didn’t say a word as they parked the car in long-term parking and walked toward the departure terminals. Will was a rank above Jim, and when push came to shove, Jim could say he was just following his superior ranking officer’s orders.

Will bought two one-way tickets to Buenos Aires, Argentina, with cash produced from the envelope in his bag. Jim gaped at the substantial stack of hundred-dollar bills, but he held his tongue. The flight was for later that evening. They had approximately seven hours to wait, and the sun was setting. They went through security and sat wordlessly in the lounge near their gate.

After about an hour, Jim finally spoke up. “What’s going on, Will? You’ve never gone against orders before.”

Will quietly replied, “We currently don’t have orders, Jim. As far as I’m concerned, this is part of the previous assignment. We are supposed to maintain surveillance over her, and I know this is where they’re going. I’m simply following an educated deduction.”

“More like a wild guess,” Jim hissed. “We have no idea where he’s taken her. For all we know, he brought her back to Phillip Torrance. Maybe they’re moving again, which would mean our assignment is finished.”

“Either way we would be heading to the island eventually,” Will replied calmly.

Jim groaned and realized Will wasn’t budging on this. “Fine, but I’m going to order some chicken wings before we call him and he kills us.”

With that statement he ordered two dozen wings and ate every single one by himself.