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An older British woman with blond hair. That’s how Taylor described the lady at the Foundation who Einar reported to.
She’d even signed her letter B.
What were the bloody chances?
As Nigel reeled backwards, he spotted another mercenary. This one came out of his mother’s room carrying her luggage.
“Well? Don’t let him fall and hit his head, you daft bastard!”
At his mom’s order, the mercenary dropped the luggage and looped his arms around Nigel’s chest. He was too weak to fight. He tried to use his Legacies—to scream, to shove with his telekinesis—but he couldn’t focus. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Bea gently stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.
“There, there,” she said. “Sleep now. When you wake up, we’ll have that chat.”
Chapter Fifteen
KOPANO OKEKE
RAN TAKEDA
THE HUMAN GARDE ACADEMY—POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA
KOPANO HATED TO RUN.
That’s not to say he didn’t like to exercise. He enjoyed training; he loved games and competition. But running simply for the sake of running? What was the point of that?
Breathing hard, Kopano chugged past the four-mile marker on the dirt track that snaked around the Academy grounds. Only one more mile of this boredom to endure. It still disappointed Kopano that not all training at the Academy was cool Legacy-related activities. In fact, the good stuff only really took place under Nine’s tutelage, while the vast majority of their exercise regimen was overseen by other faculty—strength coaches, boot camp sergeants, world-renowned personal trainers. Sadists, all of them, their shared goal to turn the young Garde into perfect athletic specimens.
Kopano wasn’t supposed to use his Legacies on this five-mile run. But if he made his body a little lighter as his calves got sorer, who would know the difference?
Footsteps pounded behind him. Kopano glanced over his shoulder, saw Nic Lambert bounding along behind him. The Belgian kid was broader and taller than Kopano, more powerful, thanks to his enhanced-strength Legacy, and clearly the better runner. He’d started a full ten minutes behind Kopano.
“Come on, Kopano, pick it up!” Nic yelled in a way that was probably meant to be encouraging.
Kopano’s brow furrowed, but he was too winded to form a reply, and then Nic was by him anyway. He couldn’t wait to return to the dorms and commiserate with Nigel, who also hated these purposeless runs. The thought of venting to his friend actually got Kopano to pick up some speed.
Except, Kopano realized, there was no one back in his suite to complain to. His pace returned to its dogged norm as the disappointment set in. Caleb had been transferred to Earth Garde and Nigel was home mourning his father for at least a few more days.
It had dawned on Kopano three days ago, during that first night having the pod to himself, that he had never really been lonely before.
At first, the solitude had seemed like a cool novelty to Kopano. Back in Lagos, he shared a room with his little brothers. Personal space there was a foreign concept. Of course there were times when he could sneak off and be alone, but even then there was always a reassuring bustle of activity nearby, the voices of his parents or neighbors audible through the thin walls of their apartment. Even though he had his own room at the Academy, it was still pretty much the same deal. Either Nigel or Caleb (sometimes many Calebs) were in the common room and, if not, he could still sense them moving about in their own rooms.
The first night, Kopano had thrilled at sitting around in the common room wearing nothing but his boxers, singing along loudly to whatever came on the radio. But, that got boring quick, and the quiet of his pod started to feel unnatural.
He spent most of that night in Taylor’s suite, lingering there late enough that Taylor could barely keep her eyes open. He only left when Isabela started mocking him about being too scared to stay in his own room by himself.
This wasn’t an easy time for Kopano to be without his friends. The coverage about him and Ran was still playing around the clock on all the cable news networks. Apparently, there was nothing those journalists liked more than speculating what might happen next. Would the Garde be sent to jail for assault? Would they be deported to their home countries? Would there be another attack? The hypothetical questions were answered by experts whose fields ranged from international law to child psychology, and all their opinions were somehow considered to be breaking news.
Up ahead on the track, Kopano spotted Ran. He grimaced. She wasn’t part of his endurance training seminar, which meant she was out here for the fun of it. He slowed his pace so that he wouldn’t catch up to her, then veered off the track entirely and headed for the dorms. If his instructor noticed, Kopano would just lie and say he’d gotten a cramp.
Ran was the reason Kopano hadn’t spent every night hanging out in Taylor’s suite. He was avoiding her. He knew it was stupid—Ran was just as much a victim as him—but being around her reminded him of the whole Harvester controversy. It’s not like Ran tried to talk to him about the incident—the girl didn’t say much of anything, especially without Nigel around to coax words out of her—but he knew that she’d been hanging around the student union, watching the news as much as possible, letting the demented coverage of their misdeeds buffet her.
He wanted to forget about the whole thing, ignore it until it went away. He couldn’t understand why Ran was so obsessed with watching the men on the news call her a monster.
From the corner of her eye, Ran watched Kopano veer off the track and head for the dorms. She had slowed her pace to see if he would like to run with her, but wasn’t offended that he instead chose to run away. She didn’t take it personally. Their faces were often together these days, grainy screengrabs on television, newspapers, and blogs. Ran couldn’t blame Kopano for wanting some space.
Ran picked up speed, relishing the burning in her lungs. Soon, Nic Lambert came into view. She passed him easily, a faint smile on her lips as she felt the boy increase his pace in a valiant attempt to keep up with her.
Ran had spent a lot of time on the track lately, exhausting herself on purpose, burning away the angry energy inside her that welled up whenever she watched Wolf News, which, lately, was often. If Kopano had asked why she watched so much of the channel’s distorted coverage, she would’ve told him how it confirmed her own concerns about her Legacies. She’d sworn off her destructive powers for the same reasons the newscasters on Wolf News articulated—she was dangerous, unpredictable, deadly.
And yet, hearing herself described this way, knowing how the media had twisted the details of their encounter with the Harvesters beyond recognition—this all infuriated Ran. She couldn’t reconcile those two feelings.
So she ran. And she kept watching.
Actually, it was about time for Don Leary to come on. He was the worst of all the Wolf News blowhards, which meant Ran never missed an episode. Ran left the track and headed for the student union, stretching out her back and legs as she went.
It was late afternoon, the sun just starting to dip low—that weird time when it was too early for dinner but too late for lunch. That meant the student union wouldn’t be crowded. No one would compete with her for use of the TV.
As Ran approached, she noticed a group of Peacekeepers in jumpsuits milling around outside. They were a maintenance crew, engaged in breaking and pulling up tiles around the entrance and dumping the fragments into a nearby Dumpster. They had blocked off the student union’s entrance with yellow caution tape. Ran stopped short and raised a questioning eyebrow at the nearest Peacekeeper.
“Mold,” he explained with a shrug. “We’ll be done before dinner.”
“I see,” Ran said, not letting her disappointment show. She started to turn away, but the Peacekeeper stopped her.
“You look like you could use something to eat,” he said, noting Ran’s sweaty appearance. He lifted up the yellow tape. “If you don’t mind the noise, I think they left some cold
sandwiches out from lunch.”
Ran bowed her head and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Sure,” he replied. “Gotta keep our best and brightest fueled up, eh?”
She ducked under the caution tape and entered the student union, deserted except for the sweating Peacekeepers, immediately making a beeline not for the sandwiches but for the remote.
Kopano stopped outside his dorm room and listened, hoping to hear the abrasive chords of one of Nigel’s punk bands. No such luck. Only silence waited for Kopano. He sighed and loosened his molecules, passing through the door like a ghost.
“Another night alone in my underwear,” Kopano declared to the empty room.
“Um, maybe you could hold off on that?”
Kopano practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of a woman’s voice. He turned and found a smiling Peacekeeper standing in the doorway to Caleb’s room. She was in her thirties, with short brown hair and freckles, and wore the blue-and-white jumpsuit of a cadet, the ones they sometimes sent onto campus to do jobs that didn’t fall under the Garde’s comprehensive chore list—usually maintenance stuff. From her accent, Kopano could tell she was American.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, stepping aside so that Kopano could see past her. There was a second Peacekeeper, a male, in Caleb’s old room, this one pulling the sheets off the bed and loading them into a large hamper.
“You didn’t scare me,” Kopano said, and puffed out his chest. “Okay, maybe a little,” he added and the Peacekeeper chuckled. “What are you doing in there?”
“Got to get the room ready for the next occupant. All kinds of stuff we have to do,” she replied. The woman waved a handheld Geiger counter at Kopano. “Would you believe we have to test the mattress for radiation?”
“Seriously? But that’s got nothing to do with Caleb’s power.”
“Yeah, we know that. Still, it’s one of the regulations.” She rolled her eyes. “We should be out of your hair in thirty minutes or so.”
