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"Guess so."
His tone suggested he'd really rather not, but he'd agreed, so I plowed forward before he changed his mind.
According to Ash, Project Phoenix hadn't attempted to resurrect four extinct supernatural types. It had tried for six. Two had been a complete bust, though, as far as anyone could tell, which is why they weren't on Mina Lee's list. As for what those two types were, Ash didn't know. It didn't concern him.
That seemed like a selfish way to look at things. But living in Salmon Creek, I could afford to pursue anything that interested me. I had parents who gave me everything I needed. I didn't even have to take a part-time job. No Salmon Creek kid did. Our "job" was school. If we wanted to do more, we were encouraged to volunteer in our community.
If you lived on the streets, though, your job was survival. You couldn't afford to take an interest in much that didn't directly affect you. Obviously, Ash had focused on the skin-walker aspects of Project Phoenix. Anything else, he'd learned incidentally. I couldn't imagine not wanting to know more. Not being curious. But so far, he hadn't shown much curiosity about anything--our situation, our experiences, our lives. Maybe even that--basic personal curiosity--is a luxury for some.
Given his lack of interest, I suppose it was surprising how much he remembered of things he'd heard in passing. He knew what the four successful types were even before meeting us. He also knew that every kid between the ages of fifteen and seventeen in Salmon Creek had been a Project Phoenix subject.
Every kid between fifteen and seventeen. Every kid in our grade, most in the grade below us, and a few in the grade above. That didn't even cover all the subjects, though. There'd been a lot of attrition at the beginning--parents realizing they didn't want their kids being brought up in a lab after all, however utopian that lab might be. All four skin-walker parents went on the run, as Rafe already told me. Which is why they'd fought so hard to get me back into the fold.
There'd been six subjects in each of the six groups. Thirty-six altogether, excluding the preliminary subjects like Annie. Of the eight in Salmon Creek showing powers--me and Rafe, Daniel and Sam, Serena, Nicole and Hayley, and Corey--seven had been on that helicopter. The eighth--Serena--was already dead. Was that a coincidence? No. We were the only ones for whom the modifications seemed to work.
While it was still possible there would be late bloomers, we were the guarantees. That's why we'd been on the same helicopter. That's why the mayor went with us. We were the most precious cargo. The Nasts knew that, which is why they'd targeted our helicopter. Hell, it's probably why they started the fire to force the evacuation.
That was really all Ash knew. I'm not sure how much it helped our situation, but at least we understood it a little better.
TWELVE
OUR MEMORIAL SERVICE WAS set for three thirty the next afternoon. That seemed like an odd hour, but maybe it was the only time they could get the park. Or maybe it was like holding it in Vancouver--a way to minimize the turnout. I'm sure they would have liked to skip the memorial altogether, but that was impossible, as long as they were pretending they gave a damn.
As soon as we realized the St. Clouds had declared us dead, we'd understood that they'd washed their hands of us. Traded us to the Nasts. Ash had a little more insight into the deal from his contacts, who knew supernaturals in both Cabals.
Cabals were, as we'd figured out, corporations run and staffed by supernaturals. Huge corporations. For regular supernaturals--like witches and half-demons--it gave them a job and a community where they didn't need to hide their powers. Kind of like what they apparently had in mind for us. You work for us; we'll look after you. Wage slaves provided with a decent job and good benefits.
The St. Clouds were the second smallest Cabal, more heavily invested in science than industry. The Nasts were the biggest. They'd let the St. Clouds do all the hard labor of creating and raising us, then they'd swooped in to steal the finished product. After the fire and crash, the two Cabals had negotiated a deal. The Nasts got all the kids on the helicopter . . . if they could catch them. The St. Clouds got paid for us and kept the "rejects" in hopes that some would be late bloomers.
So we'd been sold. Did that mean Rafe and Sam were with the Nasts now? What about Annie? We had no idea.
Not surprisingly, Ash hated the idea of showing up at the memorial. Also not surprisingly, he didn't keep his objections to himself.
"This is the stupidest idea ever," he grumbled as we lay on adjacent tree limbs a hundred meters from the memorial site.
"Is it any more stupid than it was the last fifty times you said that?" I asked.
"Maybe."
I sighed, shook my head, and looked around. Our ceremony was being held in a park. Outdoors, at the request of the parents. I knew whose parents had initiated that. Mine. An outdoor ceremony for the daughter who loved the wilderness. If I had any doubt who'd selected the location, it vanished when we'd arrived and I realized we'd been there before, my parents and me, for "breaks" when we'd come to Vancouver and the city got to be too much for me.
"I still don't get what you hope to accomplish here," Ash said.
I twisted to look at him. "We're going to try to make contact with one of our parents. Hopefully mine."
"Yeah, I get that part. What I don't get is how in hell they're supposed to help you." He put up a hand against my protest. "Your dad's a forest ranger. Your mom's an architect. You're sure they don't know about Project Phoenix, but hell, we'd be better off if they did, so at least they'd have some idea what's going on."
"Which is why they'll talk to Corey's mom. She's the police chief. Corey doesn't think she knows about the project, but she might. If she doesn't, they'll talk to Daniel's dad, who does know."
"So why not target him?"
I couldn't tell Ash about Daniel's father. Not without breaking a trust. So all I said was, "He isn't a good choice."
"Great. So we have a guy you don't trust, a small-town cop, and your parents, who know zip about the experiment, zip about fighting bad guys, and probably zip about supernaturals in general. Can I ask again what exactly it is you hope they can do?"
He already knew the answer. We'd told him the first time he asked. He was just making a point now. We really didn't know what our parents could do. We held on to the hope that someone would know about the experiment and the Cabals, and if they didn't, then they'd know someone who did, someone from Salmon Creek who could help us.
Help us do what? Free the others. But we couldn't take Annie on the run if the Cabals knew how to fix her. We couldn't take Corey on the run either if they could fix his headaches. And what if I started regressing?
