Flying (17 page)

Pierce stands up, right next to me. She is so much taller than I am, and when she puts her hands on my shoulders it makes me feel so small. “We need you to think like your mom, Mana.”

“So that's why we're here?” I ask.

“We need you to find this for us.”

In my brain I somehow hear Pierce's voice say,
Please let her not be an idiot
.

I blink and wobble my head, trying to get the voice out.

“I am not an idiot,” I stutter.

Pierce cocks her head like a dog trying to understand. “What?”

“I am not an idiot,” I repeat.

“Nobody said you were,” China mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back.

Lyle shakes his head at me, the way he does whenever I disappoint him, but Pierce just keeps staring. Her thin fingers fiddle with the collar of her flowing shirt. Her eyes meet mine.

You can hear me?

I shrug.

Crap.

I like her more when she swears, and I snort. China figures something is up, I guess, because suddenly he's right next to us, putting his hand on my arm and turning me to face him. “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Pierce says.

Do
not
let them know you can hear my thoughts.

Why not?
I think the words back but don't say them.

China's hand tightens on my arm. “Nothing?”

I try to concentrate as they all stare at me. Lyle's mouth hangs a little open.

“Nothing at all,” I say. “I'm just thinking how pretty Pierce is, and worrying, and…” My voice cracks. I am the worst liar in the universe.

Just trust me.

“You just need a little space.” She turns to China. “Give her some space while you collect your things. It's a lot to deal with.” Pierce pulls me over to a console and sits me down in a swivel chair that is a good distance away from everyone. China stares after us for a second, then starts showing Lyle around. The computers buzz so loudly that I can't hear what they say.

I sway a little in the chair and Pierce whispers, “Mana, have you ever heard thoughts? Has this ever happened before?”

I shrug.

“With the Windigo?” she prods.

I'm not sure. Did I hear it say “Exterminate” before it actually said it? It's a good question. And what about that bizarre male voice I heard during the game? At the time, I thought it was stress, but what if it wasn't?

“The Windigos don't have minds to read, not really,” Pierce says. She starts pacing back and forth, her long limbs taking her gracefully between workstations, chairs, and tables. Her skin flushes and sparkles even more radically. There is no mistaking her for human. She goes all the way across the room and stops by Beefy Face and Baldy, who are still working on Baldy's shot-up foot.
Can you hear me now?

I smile and think,
You sound like a cell phone commercial.

She grins back and almost laughs. She takes Beefy Face's and Baldy's arms. They all stand by the door. Beefy Face's and Baldy's faces blank out, all focus. From what I can hear, she's talking to them, aloud, about security, even as her brain is talking to me.
Has this manifested before recently? Before the events of yesterday?

I think about it.
No. Why would it start now?

Sometimes these sorts of talents are latent. Sometimes they're activated on purpose. It doesn't matter why, at this point. Just
 …
This is amazing!
It's like a yell in my brain.
A few humans have been known to be able to read aliens' brains. If you can read all species, not just fae—

But why can't we tell them?
I nod toward China and Lyle.

It's like you are a secret weapon. We want to keep it a secret.

From them?

From everyone. They will use you. Your life will not be your own. Believe me, I know. But the difference is that I have signed on for this. You? You've been thrust into it without a choice.

Lyle rubs his hand through his hair. He walks toward me. “This is so confusing. All this technology, and alien artifacts. It's amazing, but so confusing.”

“I feel your pain,” I say, all fake somber, but in truth I sort of feel like spinning around in my chair, because this means … this means …

We can use your gift to find the chip
, Pierce thinks.

And my mother. And the people who took her.
I stare at her to get my point across. A grin sweeps across her chiseled features. She has dimples—long, feminine dimples nestled in her perfect skin.

Across the room, Pierce nods.
And your mother.

 

CHAPTER 12

We spend the next hour rehashing things in the control room, which, as I've said before, looks exactly like a control room out of a computer geek's dream. Lyle keeps randomly touching the computers, which are everywhere, whirling into overdrive. Screens show little dots of light on black maps of the United States.

I lean over China. “What are these?”

“On my screen? These are the last sightings of the Men in Black.”

“Like the guys at my house?”

He clicks a few times and zooms in. All the streets of my neighborhood are listed against tiny lines. Bright dots line most of the streets. “That's the cluster here.”

I stare at the map for a second and scrutinize the dots all over the country. “They're all over the place.”

He nods, clicks the mouse, and zooms back out. “I know.”

“Is this where they've been sighted this year?”

He zooms in on another section of the country. DC, I think. There are tons of dots.

“Is it the last ten years?” I ask.

“It's the last month, Mana,” he grumps.

“You are kidding me.” I smack him without thinking. He doesn't seem to notice the assault, which is kind of ego deflating, honestly.

“I wish. I'm looking for activity patterns that might lead us to Melissa or the chip. Hopefully both.” He glances over at Lyle, who is peppering Pierce with a hundred million questions. She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. Her thoughts barge into my head:
I am so bored of this.

I blink her thought out and sway a little bit. China leaps up and sits me down in a chair, pressing his hands onto my shoulders.

“You going soft on me there?” he asks, and it's a cranky thing to say, but his voice is kind.

“No,” I answer, pressing my fingers against my eyelids. “I'm good.”

His hands stay on my shoulders and he squats down so that we're eye to eye. “We'll find her, Mana.”

Something inside me quivers. A light on the ceiling flickers. When my words come out, they sound like little-kid words. “You swear?”

“I swear.”

It's right now, right this second, that I trust him. Really trust him. He's got these big shoulders and dark eyes that just seem safe, despite the whole leather jacket, badass attitude. He nods at me, gets up, and motions for me to follow him to another computer terminal far across the room. I want to tell him I can hear Pierce's thoughts, but I don't, because she's right in the room and she … I just don't know. I think I trust her, sort of. But … I don't want to get her angry. I sure hope she isn't listening to my thoughts right now.

I imagine all the things I might hear aliens think, and ask China, “Do aliens have sex?”

Wow. That's what my brain picked to ask?

It doesn't seem to bother him at all. “Well, they all reproduce in some way. A good majority of them, from what we know, have sex in the human sort of sense. Fae like Pierce do.”

“Do they think about having sex?”

“Doesn't everybody?”

“Oh God.”

“Why?” He asks.

“No reason,” I lie. “It's just creepy.”

“All species procreate, at least that we know of.” He lifts an eyebrow like he's onto me. “Why are you asking about this?”

“I was … I was just wishing I could magically know where my mom was and then I was thinking that it would be creepy to have telepathy with your mom in case she liked someone or could hear me lusting after someone. And then? My brain just kind of skipped to aliens.” This, I think, is completely believable and exactly how my brain works.

He stares at me. I can't believe I just did that. I try to retrace our conversation. “I was talking about humans being telepathic. My friend, Seppie, has this wicked ESP thing going on. I swear, she knows whenever anyone has chocolate…” I babble this, but I'm thinking about what Pierce said. She said some humans can hear thoughts. But wait …

Everything seems to stop in the room. A few images flash in my head. My back tuck, post coffee sip. The amazing gymnastics moves in the locker room.

Pierce stares over at me. I meet her eyes. Her eyes are so … so … opaque and brilliant all at once. So … alien. That's just it. Alien. Otherworldly. Beautiful.

Some humans can read minds. It's rare. More aliens can do it than humans, but not all aliens are capable, just the fae and one other species. But there are not many of us left. You are not fae. And not all alien species' thoughts can be read.

Okay.
I think this word. I do not actually feel this word.

Do not worry. You are human. Your mother would have told me if you weren't.

I think about this for a second and I'm not so sure. I don't really even have total proof that my mother was working with them at all. And Pierce doesn't want China to know I read minds. So, obviously, not all the truth is right out there for everyone to see, is it? I want to know why that is. It feels like every tiny bit of information I don't possess could be keeping me from finding my mother. Now I feel like every tiny bit of information also could be keeping me from the truth about myself.

Do you not trust China?
I ask.

Of course I do.

Then why am I not supposed to tell him?

It's not about trust.
I can feel her thoughts blocking me out. Everyone is blocking me out. Half-truths.

What I need you to do is to focus on the chip and your mother. See if you can hear thoughts that give you hints about where they might be
, she says.

Why can't you do that? You're telepathic, too.

Everyone's mind works differently. Our thought patterns resonate on different levels, and when thoughts are hidden, they are especially hard to pick out and discern. It's a bit like sound waves. Some frequencies are easier to hear. Some voices are louder. Only it isn't sound waves; it is thought waves—or energy waves might be a better way of thinking of it.

I touch the computer screen. It's cold, flat. The opposite of my heart. Every single thing about this conversation is rubbing me the wrong way. Pierce has me totally confused about China, so I pace away from him. Heat fills my skin. I stare at the little dots, the little Men in Black sightings all over DC.

“How did you fix your jacket?” I ask.

“What?”

“Your jacket. Alien Dakota put a big hole in the back last night.”

He grimaces. “I remember.”

“So?”

“It's a spare.”

“You have a spare jacket?”

“I like to be prepared.” China settles back at his station like nothing's happened.

“He has about twenty-five of them. He's the same way with his pants and shirts and socks,” Pierce calls over. “Part of why we love him.”

Scoffing, China opens up a computer file just for me. I quickly realize it's a dossier of aliens on Earth—known species and their skills. Dakota of the acid tongue is from a species once likened to leprechauns, greedy miners who crashed on Earth multiple times while trying to exploit the minerals. The acid-spitting ability is theorized to have evolved on their own world as a defense mechanism, much as ants spit formic acid on their predators. Also like ants, they have a hive mentality with a rich hierarchy. Windigos are their workers, basically, doing their bidding.

The file goes on for a while about projectile use by living systems, but I move on to another species: shape-shifting aliens with telepathy skills, a subdivision of the fae, that take on the DNA of a human of their choice. No ideas about how that evolved. I guess it's a bit too much for our little human brains. I'd rather be that kind of alien than the acid boy–Dakota Dunham kind.

Even as my mind tries and fails to find thoughts about the chip or my mom, I keep skimming the files. The next alien is a blob that resembles a sea anemone, which appears pretty harmless. I know I can't be that, so I flip to the next file, but not before first wondering if there are any alien species that resemble penguins. I would be cool with that one.

The truth is, though, I have no idea what I am trying to find in these files, and my mind keeps drifting and wondering what it would mean if Pierce is wrong and I'm not human.

The leaping stuff was cool, but what if I can spit acid? That is disgusting. What if I accidentally spit acid during states and kill the judges? Or incinerate a pom-pom? Or what if I actually get to kiss Lyle someday and acid comes out instead?

I try to make spitting motions discreetly, just to see. China raises an eyebrow.

“Hair in my mouth,” I lie.

You are human, I promise,
Pierce says into my brain, but can I believe her?
Try to use your thoughts to find the chip and your mother.

I settle into a tense silence, but Lyle asks everyone about five hundred questions, over and over again, and I just keep getting more and more impatient. We were supposed to be just gathering supplies and having China check in. We've been here forever, and Lyle is still shell-shocked.