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Montgomery shrugged his shoulders in a way Duanphen found utterly childish. She sighed and shifted on her feet, the bones in her leg grinding like uneven gears. She would have to live with this pain a little longer yet.
“There is one . . . ,” Montgomery mumbled, leaning in to open a file on his tablet. “There is one potential. Sources say . . . recruitment . . . should be soon.”
Einar looked down at the opened file and let loose a laugh. Duanphen had never heard a noise like that come out of him. Einar never sounded surprised about anything.
“Her?” Einar asked, his eyes shining. “The Foundation thinks they can recruit her? Again? Because it went so well the first time.”
Montgomery nodded dumbly. “Reports are . . . reports are she’s disgruntled. Suss . . . susceptible.”
Duanphen craned her neck to look at the screen. There was a blond girl pictured there, pretty if chubby-cheeked in that way Duanphen immediately associated with all Americans.
“You know her,” she said to Einar.
“We’ve met,” Einar replied. He rubbed the back of his head, fingering a knot of scar tissue. “She hit me with a shovel.”
“She doesn’t like you.”
“In her defense, I was trying to kill her friends . . .”
Duanphen’s eyes narrowed. “You said we don’t kill our own kind.”
“Not when we can avoid it, obviously. It was a complicated time. I was a bit out of my mind.”
Duanphen tilted her head. Did this strange boy think he was in his right mind now? She wondered, not for the first time, what she had gotten herself into. Over Montgomery’s shoulder, she could see the Beast sitting stone-still in his high-backed chair, somehow managing to loom over them without even standing up.
Perhaps detecting her unease, Einar put a hand on her shoulder. Duanphen knew that he could use his Legacy to make her trust him. She wouldn’t even know it was happening. Einar could easily make her a loyal soldier, as empty-headed as Montgomery. But he hadn’t. The skepticism she continued to nurture was evidence enough that he’d kept his word from their first meeting and not used his Legacy on her.
Instead, he talked. Always talked.
“I’ve changed,” Einar said gently. “I used to believe the Foundation cared about me. It took Taylor here . . .” He looked down at the girl on the tablet. “It took her causing some trouble to open my eyes. When I made a mistake, I saw how expendable I was to the Foundation. At first, I was furious with her and her friends. I thought they ruined my life. I wanted to hurt them. But now I realize that anger was misplaced. I should’ve thanked Taylor and the others. She cut the gilded leash the Foundation had around my neck. Made me realize that we Garde can only rely on each other. And that we can’t let anyone control us. Isn’t that right, Monty?”
The rich man murmured agreement. Duanphen said nothing. Einar liked to talk about this new world he was creating, but so far it was only the three of them. Not exactly a revolution. Not yet. Even so, for the first time in her life, Duanphen felt truly free.
She liked it.
“If the Foundation spies are right and Taylor really is sick of the Academy . . .” Einar’s thin lips compressed into a smile. He minimized the girl’s picture. Then, he opened up a banking app and typed in an account number, passing the tablet back to Montgomery. “Be a good boy and transfer your liquid assets, eh, Montgomery? Be quick about it. Seems we’ve got to go do some recruiting of our own.”
Chapter Thirteen
THE FUGITIVE SIX
THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA
KOPANO SAT ON THE COUCH IN TAYLOR’S DORM suite with his head in his hands. She sat next to him, watching him closely and occasionally reaching out to pat his back.
“I feel like I just want to hide,” Kopano said.
“Psh!” Isabela answered with a wave of her hand. She sat on a chair opposite, air-drying her freshly painted fingernails. “Why should you hide? They should be giving you a medal and a movie deal for crushing those punheteiros.”
“I didn’t want to crush anyone,” Kopano replied. He peeked out from between his fingers and looked over at Ran. She stood next to the window, quiet, watching as most of the student body gathered in the courtyard below. A makeshift stage had been set up there for the talent show, part of the festivities the administration had cooked up for New Year’s Eve.
“We know you didn’t,” Taylor told him gently.
“They had it coming,” Isabela insisted. “I say it’s too bad you didn’t crush more of them.”
Kopano looked up at her. “You didn’t see the video.”
“Nope. I didn’t see it happen in person either, because they had already shot me. You remember? If not for you and the others, I would probably be dead in a ditch or on a hook in a meat locker like that girl the Harvesters kidnapped. I feel nothing for them. You shouldn’t either, you softie.”
“What did Professor Nine and Malcolm say about it?” Taylor asked.
“They were mad, obviously,” Ran replied. She looked at Kopano. “They will protect us. They promised.”
“Where are your two boyfriends?” Isabela asked him with a smirk. “They should be here.”
Kopano shrugged and started to say he didn’t know, but Ran interrupted with a chin jerk in the direction of the courtyard.
“They’re getting ready to perform,” she said. “I see them down there.”
Isabela snorted. “I thought Nigel said such a nonpaying gig would be beneath him.”
Kopano stood up abruptly, wiped the back of his hand across his eyes and put on a resolute face.
“We must go,” he said.
Taylor looked up at him. “Weren’t you just talking about hiding out for the rest of your life?”
“I’m over it,” Kopano said.
>
Isabela shook her head and Taylor gave him a look—they both knew that wasn’t true. For all his braggadocio, Kopano was probably the most sensitive one of them all. Or at least the most idealistic. That video of him hurting the Harvesters would gnaw at him.
Kopano caught their looks and shrugged. “Fine. I’m not over it. But there’s nothing I can do about it now.” He waved his hand dramatically. “And what kind of friend would I be if I missed the debut performance of Nigel and the Clones, huh?”
“A friend with eardrums,” Isabela replied.
The four of them arrived on the lawn while Lisbette was still onstage. She used her Legacies to create towering ice sculptures of fairies and nymphs while doing interpretive dance to some tinkling new-age track. Most of the student body, along with many administrators, were already there, watching from picnic blankets and politely clapping whenever Lisbette pulled off a flourish.
“I hate this ballet crap,” Isabela said a little too loudly. Some instructors turned around to give her a look. She ignored them. “There’s no beat. No passion.”
“You have to admit the sculptures are pretty,” Ran replied, gazing up at the delicate glass-like wings that Lisbette crafted with deft motions of her fingertips.
“I admit nothing,” Isabela said.
Taylor rubbed her arms. “She’s making it cold out here.”
Kopano interpreted that as a signal and happily put his arm around Taylor’s shoulder. Isabela smiled at that and tried to catch Taylor’s eye, but Taylor deliberately avoided her look. She’d been very cagey about whether Kopano and she were a thing now, ever since their kiss. Isabela could tell that Kopano at least thought they were.
Giving up on exchanging glances with Taylor, Isabela craned her neck to look around. “I wonder if anyone smuggled in some booze.”
“Doubt it,” Taylor said.
“I knew this would be too wholesome for me.”
The New Year’s Eve festivities were a campus-wide thing. There was the talent show stage out there in the courtyard, where they would later play some outdoor movies once the student entertainment ran out. There were board-game stations set up in the student union, where all-night breakfast was being served. Supposedly, Professor Nine had traveled to Mexico to personally procure a “butt-load” of primo fireworks. The students and faculty were all there, plus even some UN Peacekeepers who hadn’t drawn guard duty. It reminded Taylor of the yearly lock-in her old school had done to raise money for whatever charity the seniors selected.
