Caged (Talented Saga) (11 page)

Annalise
Cleary showed no signs of being any more adept at Electrical Manipulation than I’d first observed. In fact when I’d used my own Talents to persuade her to show me how hers worked, she was barely able to make the lamp on her desk flicker. No matter how deep I dug, I couldn’t find any other inconsistencies in her file.

I asked Penny about
Annalise’s lack of Talent, but even her overly analytical brain couldn’t posit a theory. Collectively, the best that we could come up with was a mistake during her Talent ranking exams.

I asked Mac about it, and he’d just attributed her low-level ability to lack of use, but that explanation bothered me.
For a Talent, using her abilities was second nature. It was just like using any other sense, it was done subconsciously. So even if Annalise hadn’t been actively practicing for the past however-many years, I was willing to bet that she used it without thinking on a daily basis. Something about her was definitely off, but I doubted that “something” was duplicitous. In general, she appeared to be on the level. She was a loyal supporter of Toxic, and believed that the Mandatory Testing Act was a solid law.

Cadence Choi disliked me more and more by the day; unfortunately as Mac pointed out every time I mentioned the fact, disliking me didn’t make her any more suspicious.
She took advantage of every opportunity to contradict me in front of the students. Even though she wasn’t always technically right, I usually let her snide remarks roll right off. Her less-than-friendly welcome was partially due to her jealously over my placement with the Hunters for my Pledge year, and partially over my obvious relationship with the Director. Her crush on Donavon didn’t help either.

I’d dealt with her type since coming to the McDonough School and refused to let her bother me.
While she was definitely jealous that I’d been asked to Pledge the Hunters, she also took a great deal of satisfaction in the fact that I’d not been permanently assigned there after graduation. Since the official story was that I’d failed my solo mission – I guess that was technically true – she felt assured that I was no better than she was.

Mac felt that it was best that no one knew what had actually happened on my assignment, so I swallowed my wounded pride and let her continue believing that I hadn’t had what it takes to be a Hunter.
Unfortunately, her honest belief that the official version of events was true also meant she was unlikely the spy. The person who’d leaked my identity to Crane would definitely know why the Hunt had failed.

As for Thad
Wietz, he felt so guilty about leaving his parents for what he thought would be “a better life”, it consumed his every thought. The more that I pushed for details about his past, the less willingly he divulged them. I used our daily conversations to establish a strong connection, and superficially believed that he was telling the truth. However, he was fairly adept at blocking his deeper memories. Despite Mac’s insistence that I be more forceful, I refrained. Thad was definitely at the top of my suspect list, but that wasn’t saying much since he only landed there by default.

Then there was Ursula.
There wasn’t much to say about her. She was confident in all her Talents – and I do mean all of them. She constantly pranced around the Instructor dorm scantily clad, her ample cleavage on display and her curves hugged by the minute pieces of fabric that she favored. Her male admirers included any guy with a heartbeat. Of course, there was one in particular she was gunning for: Donavon.

When we were in school, I’d had to contend with a lot of school-girl crushes on Donavon.
He was a good-looking guy and the Director’s son, which made him a hot commodity. I supposed the same still held true. The number of attractive male Instructors under forty was limited, making Donavon stand out even more.

Both Ursula and Cadence’s attractions irked me.
I knew that I had no right to be upset; he and I could barely be in the same room without me losing my temper. But I hated the way that they both flirted with him. Even more, I hated the way that he indulged their advances. Donavon lapped up every opportunity to engage in flirtatious conversation when I was present. His behavior made me want to kick him.

Gemma finished her in-depth examination of the visits with Ursula’s parents and determined that there were not using codes.
I decided to pursue one last avenue regarding the tapes; I submitted them to Dr. Wythe asking him to give me a report on the interactions. Mac agreed because Dr. Wythe had been my therapist since my return from Nevada, and was well versed in the events that had transpired there.

The tension between Donavon and I grew exponentially by the day.
I half-wondered if others could sense it and were just too scared to mention it, or we were the only ones who understood how precarious our situation really was. I hadn’t even told Penny about the fight, my stitches, and what Donavon had accused me of. I wasn’t sure where my hesitancy to confide in her came from – was I embarrassed by my reaction to his accusations? Or maybe a small part of me worried that they were true, and if I told her, she might make me confront that uncomfortable realization.

I
had
been concentrating really hard. And I
had
been trying to block the pain. And I
had
been anticipating that he would land a really hard blow. Had I been concentrating so hard that I’d actually been manipulating him to do it? Had I actually been deflecting the pain instead of trying to block it? No, that was absurd. At least, that’s what I told myself every time I considered it. There was no way that I’d do something so ridiculous ...or would I? Admittedly, my temper had been even more out of control than usual lately, and Donavon’s mere presence fueled the flames of my rage-driven fire.

It was one week to the day after my arrival on campus that the tension finally broke.
Afterward, I couldn’t recall what precipitated the altercation. One minute, I was in Donavon’s class, helping students with their offensive moves. Donavon’s mental voice was disagreeing with what my actual voice was telling someone, and something inside of me snapped. I don’t remember what I mentally yelled at him – I probably repressed the words to save myself later anguish – but whatever it was, it must’ve been ugly.

Donavon immediately dismissed class, but the students seemed to realize that something was amiss between us.
Several of them stuck around, pretending that they were lost in their own conversations. At first, it wouldn’t have mattered whether they were listening in; the entire fight was mental, insults flying back and forth ...until it wasn’t.

“You want a fight, Talia?”
Donavon’s mental voice screamed at me.
“Then let’s do it. Hit me.”
Apparently, I didn’t need to be asked twice. I literally flew at him. Launching myself into the air, my entire body went horizontal to the ground. He hadn’t anticipated that I’d take him up on his offer quite so quickly, which gave me a split second of surprise. It was all I needed.

I hit him square in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
His reflexes were fast, and he recovered quickly. Grabbing my wrists as I fell on top of him, he used his superior upper body strength to throw me over his head. I anticipated this and used his momentum, in addition to my own, to flip my feet completely over my head, landing neatly on my toes.

Donavon was quick though, and before I could even turn around to face him, he was upright.
We backed away from each other and began circling. I was positive that we had an audience, but I no longer cared.

My peripheral vision reddened.
In that moment, my only care was hurting Donavon – physically hurting him for all of the emotional pain that he’d caused me, making him suffer the same way that I had. I wanted him to pay.

Usually, my biggest advantage in a fight was that my opponents underestimated me, but it was an advantage I didn’t have with Donavon, he knew better.
Every minute that I’d spent training as an adolescent, he’d been right there beside me. The only benefit that I had over Donavon was my anger, my unqualified, nearly primal urge to attack. Donavon might not have liked the way that I’d been behaving lately – and being a Morph, his blood tended to run hot – but he lacked the epic levels of animosity toward me that I harbored for him.

I flew at him again.
This time, I used my momentum to cartwheel through the air so that my feet were over my head when I landed beside him. My hands made contact with the ground close to his feet. Summoning all of the strength I had, I vaulted myself upwards and was rewarded for my efforts when my foot made contact with the underside of his chin, throwing him off-balance. I finished the rotation and landed on my feet, in time to see him stumble and lose his footing. I was about to press my advantage when he miraculously stabilized himself and reached out, grabbing my arm. Instead of pulling away, I used his arm for leverage and kicked off the ground. My right foot made contact with his shoulder, and my left should’ve followed suit to make contact with his head.

But I’d kicked off too hard, and Donavon, realizing what I was going to do, added his own strength into my swing; when my feet were over my head, I was much further off the ground than I’d anticipated.
Donavon and I were locked in the awkward embrace when it happened.

I was completely upside down, his fingers encircling my wrist as my fingers frantically clawed at his.
Suddenly, I became disoriented, losing awareness of my surroundings. I was no longer in control of my now-flailing limbs. Time slowed to a stand-still as gravity fought to return me to the ground. I didn’t fall back to earth gracefully as I had so many times before, but rather with legs floundering in a desperate attempt to get them underneath me.

My fingers would no longer obey my command to hold on to Donavon, and my grip slackened.
My body began to convulse, arms and legs twitching as the seizure racked through my entire being. I wanted to cry out, but I was no more in control of my vocal chords than the rest of my muscles. My last conscious thought was that I hoped I landed on one of my fleshier parts, like my butt.

Chapter Eleven

“I always forget how amazing it is to watch her fight.”
Janet’s voice cut through the haze that was clouding my brain.

“I don’t even know where she learned some of those tricks,” Mac responded, something like pride in his tone.

“Dr. Thistler says that the levels in her blood have dropped drastically,” Janet commented.

“Thank goodness for that,” Mac replied.

“I don’t mean to say I told you so ...but well, I told you so,” Janet said sternly.

“I know that there was some tension initially, but they have been fine for the better part of the week.
It wasn’t Donavon’s fault; it was the extreme physical exertion,” Mac snapped.

“Fine?!
Fine?!” Janet sounded exasperated. “Were you in the same status meeting that I was? They aren’t ‘fine’ Mac. She’s been on edge since day one. In light of what just happened, I suggest that we get another Operative in here, one with less emotional attachment to Talia.”

“No.
Donavon stays. Natalia stays. They are both professionals. Hopefully, this little episode will demonstrate just how important it is that they put the past behind them and learn to be civil,” Mac retorted.

“Mac, they’re teenagers.
You can’t expect them to act like adults – they aren’t adults,” Janet replied flatly.

“I can, and I do,” Mac said angrily.

I couldn’t stand to hear them talk about me like I wasn’t there. I had to intervene.

“Invalid trying to sleep over here,” I announced loudly.

A large hand gently covered mine. “Shhhh,” Donavon’s voice said soothingly.

I froze.
Slowly, licking my extremely dry lips, I turned toward the sound of his voice.

“If you want me to leave ...I understand,
” his mental voice said softly. He raised my hand, still enclosed in his, and rubbed it against his stubbly cheek. My throat ached as I tried to swallow my unease. I wanted to tell him exactly where he could go ...but something stopped me. As upset as I’d been over Donavon’s betrayal, I really missed his friendship. Going through the intense physical therapy alone had been agonizing. Penny was great, but she wasn’t Donavon; she didn’t know me like he did, she didn’t comfort me the way he did. And Mac was right. I was a professional. Age-wise, I might still be a teenager, but I’d been through more in my short existence than most people experienced in their entire lifetimes.

If we wanted to catch the spy, I needed to start acting like the Hunter that I’d trained to be even if I wasn’t technically a Hunter anymore.

“Stay,” I croaked out loud, my voice hoarse.
“Water?”
I added mentally. The straw hit my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth, guzzling the refreshing liquid as quickly as the straw would allow.

“Easy, easy,”
Donavon chuckled.
“I don’t want to be blamed for you choking to death.”

“Will you tell Janet and Mac to go in the hallway if they’re going to talk about me?”
I urged him.

“They are in the hallway.
Down by the nurse’s station, actually,”
he replied, sounding a little uneasy.
“Can you hear them?”
he added hesitantly.

“Of course, I can hear them,”
I snapped.
“Their voices woke me up.”

Donavon didn’t reply, but I could tell that he thought that I was confused.
I assumed that he could make out their words, but his Morph hearing was naturally much better than mine. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t confused at all, that I could hear Janet and Mac loud and clear, but I hesitated. If they were really all the way down by the nurses’ station, there was no way that I should’ve been able to hear them without concentrating. Superior hearing was not among my many Talents. I had better-than-average senses, due to the sensory-deprivation training that I’d done, but they were nothing compared to a Morph’s. If Janet and Mac were really that far away, how on earth could I hear their conversation?

For some reason, that thought took a tangent and brought up the day that I’d been admiring Donavon’s eyelashes in class.
He’d been a solid ten feet away. Sure, if I focused all of my mental energy to the task, I
might
have been able to hone in on his eyelashes, but I hadn’t been doing that. How had I picked up on the detail from so far away?

I must not have been keeping my thoughts private; no sooner had I begun to ponder his lashes, I felt them softly brush my cheekbone.
As his face leaned closer to mine, I inhaled his familiar scent – soap and clean linens. Tingles traveled down my whole body, and goose bumps sprang up on my arms and legs. My head felt heavy, and I was glad that I was lying down; surely my legs would give out if I tried to stand.

Donavon’s mouth rested right next to my ear, and my body tensed at the proximity to his.
What was happening? I didn’t want to feel like this. His breath tickled my ear as he whispered out loud, “butterfly kisses.”

My heart was pounding so loudly that I could hear each accelerated “thump.”
Forgetting all my early anger, I nuzzled my face against Donavon’s. His mental voice hummed softly in my head. It was a melody that I knew well, the words that accompanied it long forgotten. I smiled, feeling truly at ease for the first time in months as I fell back to sleep listening to Donavon’s comforting song.

When I woke up next, Dr. Thistler was the one holding my hand.
I looked at her and groaned. “Am I dying?” I asked dryly. I definitely felt like I was.

“No, despite your best efforts Natalia, you will live to fight another day,” she replied, irritation and disapproval flickering in her gray eyes.
I had a bad feeling that I was in store for a lecture.

“Give it to me straight, Doc.
I can handle it,” I replied, trying to sit up.

“Easy, Natalia,” she replied, adjusting the pillows behind my back to better support me.
“It was a little bumpy at first. The adrenaline elevated the levels of the compound in your blood, but I increased the dosage of the equalizer. It took a couple of days, but you are stable now.” She smiled, pleased with her work.

“I’ve been out for several days?!” I exclaimed, not caring about her efforts to stabilize me.
I’d be pleased when her efforts actually cured me.

“I felt that it was best to heavily sedate you while I stabilized the compound in your blood.
It was necessary to prevent further seizures.”

“Great
. Did it work?” I snapped. The liberties that she’d taken with my consciousness irked me; she was treating me like some experimental lab rat.

“It did, actually,” she replied, smiling and seemingly oblivious to my ungrateful attitude.

“Where’s Donavon?” I demanded. After spending the last week avoiding him, I craved his presence now.

“Mr. McDonough is teaching, but Headmistress Evans is waiting outside to see you once I finish checking your vitals,” Dr. Thistler answered pointedly.

“If you could hurry, that would be super,” I snapped. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, showing me just how much she appreciated my impatience. She quickly finished her appraisal of all my vitals, then opened the door to allow Janet to come in.

I waited for Dr. Thistler to leave before I interrogated Janet.

“What exactly happened?”

Janet studied me through narrowed green eyes assessing whether I was prepared for this conversation.
She apparently decided that I was. “Several students saw the altercation between you and Donavon,” she explained. “Fearing the worst, I called Mac.”

I sighed.
“So, you were there when ...I had the seizure?” I asked quietly, staring at the machine that monitored my heart rate like it was the most fascinating contraption in the world. The beeps came more quickly as color raced to my cheeks. Up until now, the only people to witness my seizures were Mac, Gretchen, and the Medics who treated me. The episodes were embarrassing and painful, and I hated for others to see me so vulnerable. I was supposed to be strong – a fighter, a Hunter.

Janet cleared her throat loudly, ignoring my anxiety.
“Yes, Mac and I arrived shortly after it started,” she said gently. “Donavon realized that something was wrong as soon as you started to convulse. He caught you before you hit the ground.”

Thank goodness for that. He probably saved me a broken bone or two.

“The trembling didn’t subside,” she continued shakily. “When we finally got you to Medical, Dr. Thistler gave you the equalizer immediately, but it didn’t work. She had to give you a sedative.”

“How long?”
I asked, keeping my eyes trained on the red spikes that blipped across the monitor screen.

“How long?”
Janet repeated, sounding confused.

I turned to meet her gaze.
“Yeah, how long before the seizure stopped?” I asked.

“An hour,” she whispered.

An hour? That was the longest yet; my condition was deteriorating. I blinked furiously, trying to hold back tears.

“You were agitated and kept screaming in your sleep.
Mac was so worried that he refused to leave your bedside,” Janet pressed on.

“What did I say?” I grimaced, worried that my night terrors might have been a little too telling.

“Nothing coherent,” she assured me, “mostly just screaming.”

“I see.
Is that why Dr. Thistler kept me comatose?” I asked quietly.

“Even after she sedated you, she couldn’t quiet the nightmares.
It wasn’t until Donavon started sneaking into your room that you finally calmed down.” Janet watched me carefully for my reaction.

“Donavon?
Really?” I arched an eyebrow in surprise. The more that I thought about it, the more her statement made sense. Donavon’s presence had always calmed me, eased my tension. The familiarity between us made me feel safe and secure.

“Natalia, do you want me to have you replaced?” she asked bluntly.
“Because I will. Mac is against the idea, but I’m honestly not sure that you’re ready for this.”

I stared at her while carefully measuring my next words.
She didn’t know that I’d heard her conversation with Mac, and I didn’t want her to know that I’d unwittingly eavesdropped. “No, Janet, I’m ready for this. I want to do this. Donavon and I are adults. We’re professionals who can put our issues aside – this assignment is too important.”

My words did nothing to dispel her concerns, but she didn’t argue further.
She knew me well enough to understand that once I put my mind to something, there was no changing it.

Just then, Mac stuck his head through the doorway of my room. “Thank goodness you are finally awake,” he said, by way of greeting.

“Sorry to have inconvenienced you,” I replied sarcastically. “I’m feeling great, thanks for asking.”

“You are awake, Natalia.
Therefore, you must be feeling better,” he replied absently. He apparently wasn’t overly concerned as long as I wasn’t dying.

“Did you come down here just to see my smiling face?” I asked.
Mac’s indifference to my physical health annoyed me. I had to remind myself that Mac went out of his way over the past few months to aid my recovery. Still, the building animosity that I’d been experiencing since the previous year didn’t soften my irritation now.

“No.
I need you to get dressed and come with me, now,” he answered. He wasn’t wasting any time. My displeasure grew, but I was itching to get out of Medical. After the extensive rehabilitation and current daily visits, I was none too keen to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.
Where are my clothes?” I asked brightly.

“Wait just a minute,” Janet interrupted, “she has suffered a traumatic event, Mac.”

“Dr. Thistler said that her vitals are fine, and I need her to interrogate a suspect,” Mac snapped, baring razor-sharp canines. Janet and I both flinched at his open display of aggression. Like his son, Mac was a poly-morph, but he rarely displayed his Talent anymore.

“What are you talking about?
Who?” I demanded, recovering once Mac’s lips safely concealed his teeth again.

“I had Penny dig deeper into Ernest Tate.
Just as you thought, not everything adds up,” Mac responded, now composed and in control of his emotions.

“Hold on.
I never said that I thought things didn’t add up. I just thought that maybe we should look in to his background.” I was suddenly on the defensive. Ernest had been nothing but nice to me. Sure, he was one of the few people that I’d encountered at School who was actually capable of hacking in to our network, but that alone didn’t make him a traitor. I honestly didn’t believe him capable of such deception.

“And that is exactly what I had Ms.
Latimore do. She looked into his past – he has family in California. After monitoring his parents’ communicators, we’ve determined that his father is still in contact with them. Now I need
you
to do what you do best and find out where Ernest’s loyalties lie,” Mac replied.