Collide (18 page)

I won’t kill her, not now. I can’t bring that kind of scrutiny to the project. But her loyalty, dependence, must be absolute.

Her father—he is the key.

It would pain me to lose him. He has been nothing but faithful to the cause. Despite everything he knows about my work, he’s never tipped his hand to the others, not even his daughter. He has my complete trust.

She does not.

I will do what I must to secure her silence, regardless of the cost. There is too much at stake now.

The question is how to use him? His death? Her need for vengeance? These can be powerful tools, especially if his death is caused by our mutual enemy.

I can’t be rash, now. I must wait, plan. The timing has to be perfect.

One way or another, I will have her loyalty and trust. Or I will order her death. She will not bring an end to my triumph. I won’t allow it.

DAVID’S ARMS WRAP ME IN A TIGHT EMBRACE, BLOCKING THE THOUGHTS OF ASSASSINS, PSYCHIC PHENOMENA AND MOM AND DAD
. For now. The TV lights flicker around the room as some comedian talks about the day’s events. The steady rhythm of David’s breath tells me he’s fallen into a deep sleep. At least one of us can.

I shift my body, untangling myself from his arms, and stand. My body groans as my exhaustion eclipses everything else. Everything hurts: my legs, my head, my heart. Too much has happened, too much lost.

I tremble with weight of each loss and lean against the wall to prevent myself from falling. I slide down to the floor and wrap my arms around my knees, desperate to hold myself together. If that’s even possible anymore.

Something tells me it isn’t.

You’re stronger than this
, I attempt to convince myself, borrowing my brother’s favorite phrase. He’d always told me I could handle anything. I wish he were right. My chest tightens. Mom’s words from the tape and the journal loop though my head. We were assassins, trained to use our gifts against the world.

I think of the soap floating around David’s bathroom, recall the memories of objects bending to my will and the way I can think someone into doing whatever I want. Mom believed she’d removed my gifts, taught me to live without them. Clearly, some part of them remains.

I glance around the room, noting the drab 90’s decor. No big loss if I manage to “accidentally” break something. I unfold my legs and shift positions. Releasing a tight breath, I clear my thoughts. The action is natural, automatic. I stare at the TV, imagining it floating. It shakes for only a moment before the panic returns and my chest tightens once more.

Focus
, I scream inside. I look back at the flatscreen. The
Late Show
is over, replaced by a replay of the evening news. I stare at the TV, willing it to hover a few inches over the dresser. It shifts, moves. The effort pounds through me. “What are you doing?” I whisper. “This is nuts.” The TV responds by falling back to the dresser with a thud.

“Try that again.” David sits up, his eyes wide. “The TV, try it again.”

I release another breath and roll my eyes back, picturing the TV floating high above the dresser, obeying every command.

“Yes!” David’s excitement is infectious. “Keep going.”

I open my eyes. The TV hovers over the dresser, tethered by several cords. I will the cords out of the wall. They comply and screen blackens as the TV floats higher. I imagine the screen flickering back to life. In moments the newscaster returns to the screen. “Tomorrow’s highs will be in the 70s as the unseasonably cool weather continues.”

I laugh nervously, both intrigued and terrified.

“Looks like you’ve still got some skills.”

“I guess so,” I say as I lower the TV and replace the plugs into the socket. “Not that levitating will help me much in a fight.”

“Are you kidding? I didn’t do much more than that when I got rid of those assassins.”

“They didn’t float away, David. You hurt them,
made
them pass out,
made
them leave. How’d you do that, anyway?” I anticipate the answer before he speaks.

“I told them they were sliced and their bodies just bled. Then I told them to leave. There really wasn’t anything more to it.”

Just like I’d done with the shrinks and teachers. Except for the whole slicing part. “Handy trick.”

“No kidding.”

I stand and stretch. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I’m not.” His voice sends fresh chills across my spine.

“Stop it. I’m still mad at you.”

“Your kisses didn’t feel mad.” His gaze scorches me.

My face flushes and I will the TV to turn off, reluctant to let him know just how much he still affects me. “Regardless, we aren’t a couple. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Whatever,” he taunts.

I stumble to the edge of the bed as my eyes adjust to the darkness. “I do want to talk about something before I kick you out though.”

David grabs my hands. “Sure,” he whispers. He traces small circles on my hand with his thumb.

I pull away “Focus.”

“I am focused.”

My face heats again, along with my body. “David, I’m serious. It’s about the attack.”

“Attack?” His thumb stops circling my hand and I imagine his face etched with worry.

“Before, when I collapsed. I thought my head would explode from the pain.”

“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

I inhale a sharp breath, remembering in detail how much my brain hurt. “Oh yeah, I was definitely attacked. It was the same thing we learned how to do before, during the experiments.”

“I don’t remember practicing attacks offensively. Only for defense.”

“I do. We argued about whether or not I should be hurting others without provocation.”

“And did you?”

“Did I attack you guys?” I don’t want to admit what I remember. But the words pour out faster than I can stop them, and I tell David everything. “I attacked Maya. She thought it was Mari and threw a glass bottle at her.”

“I remember. Mari had a mean scar on her face afterwards.”

“Yeah.” My voice trails off as the memory of that fight, my refusal to tell Maya what I’d done, the shame I still feel, envelops me.

“Dakota?” David’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You okay?”

“Just remembering things I’d rather not,” I say as I shake my head. “Anyway, I sensed someone in my head at the house. And I think I know who.” I pause, unwilling to make my suspicions true by saying her name aloud.

They all tell lies. They all tell lies.
The memory of my dream with Mari encircles me and cuts off my words.

“Who?” David’s eagerness is palpable.

My minds fills with doubt. Immediately, I close off my thoughts.

“Dakota?”

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” I whisper.

“Why not? You can trust me.”

Can I? “Forget I said anything. For now.” I stand and go to the door. “Let’s get Josh. We should head over to the house and see if anyone’s come around.”

“In the middle of the night? No. Stop stalling, Dakota. Tell me what you were thinking before, about your attacker.”

I ignore his words, wishing I’d remained silent. I can’t deny my feelings for David, but that doesn’t mean I should trust him with everything just yet. “Come on.” I open the door to leave.

David follows me next door.

Knock-knock
. Nothing. Josh has clearly fallen asleep.

Knock-knock. Knock
. Silence again.

“Dang he’s a heavy sleeper,” David says. “With everything going on, you’d think he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all.

That’s what bothers me. Josh never sleeps this soundly. I look to the parking lot, scanning for our car. Gone. “He’s not here,” I say. Panic tightens my chest immediately, as my pulse increases.

I pound on the door again, hoping I’m wrong. Josh wouldn’t go back to the house by himself, would he?

“Dakota.” David’s voice does nothing to calm me now. He takes my hand in his. “He’s already gone.”

I shift my focus to David, noting the concern in his face.
We’ll find him
, he whispers through my thoughts. “I promise.”

I want to trust him. I need his comfort. But nothing can comfort me until Josh is found. “We’d better,” I say as I go back into my room and grab my stuff. “How are we going to get there? Josh has the car.” I yell over my shoulder.

David isn’t behind me now. He’s walking toward the back of the parking lot.

“Where are you going?”

“Shh,” he says as he motions for me to hurry. “Come on.” He’s as concerned for Josh as I am.

I catch up just as he tries car after car until he finds one that is unlocked.

“No way!” I say, my jaw tight. “We aren’t going to start stealing cars. I’m pretty certain we weren’t trained to break the law whenever we want.” No, we were just trained to kill.

“We aren’t stealing, we’re borrowing.” David slips into the driver’s seat and pulls several wires from under the steering wheel. Within moments, he’s hot-wired the car. “Are you coming or what?”

Unable to release the tension now threatening to send me into full-scale panic mode, and unwilling to let David go without me, I have no choice but to jump into the car.

And do something I don’t think I’ve ever done . . .

Pray.

W
E SPEED THE FEW MILES BACK TO AURORA, DESPERATE TO FIND JOSH
. Why did he leave without us? My body shudders as I imagine what I’d do if he was taken. Or worse.

“What if they took him?” My stomach tosses and I gag. I reach for David’s hand, anything to steady the waves of emotions threatening to undo me.

“Don’t worry. I know he’s at the house.”

I nod, willing David’s words to be true. Closing my eyes, I reach out for Josh’s presence. I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing, how to find him. Instinct takes over before I can think to ask David for help and I clear away everything but my thoughts of Josh. A heartbeat passes. New images paint across my thoughts, bombarding my senses with a full array of scents and sounds.

Evergreen trees surround the safe house, filling the air with the unmistakable scent of pine. Endless rows of corn flank the trees. The plants crinkle against each other in a light breeze. Beyond the trees and the house, a lake lazily laps at the shore, joining the staccato rhythm of the corn. Overhead, a half moon brightens the sky, refusing to yield to coming dawn.

I search the landscape, my brows knit together in deep concentration.
Where are you?
I walk forward, soundlessly crunching the leaves which litter the ground.
Josh?

Nestled up against a tall tree on the property’s edge, I find him, barely visible. He flattens himself against the tree, hiding his body among the branches. I stare, watching as his skin takes on the tree’s color and texture. His camouflaging skills have improved in the few days since the attack at David’s.