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“Yes, hello, Ran, Kopano,” the woman said, inclining her head to each of them individually. “I’m Karen Walker.”
“Hi,” Kopano replied, feeling more than a little bewildered.
“You are an FBI agent,” Ran said flatly. “We are not Americans. We do not answer to you.”
“I was an FBI agent,” Walker corrected. “And I’m sorry about this next part; it’s going to be unpleasant. But I’m supposed to demonstrate who is in control. Let’s continue this conversation in about thirty minutes.”
Walker hit a button on her cell phone—it was just sitting there innocuously, on the table—like she was checking a text. Instantly, before Kopano could respond or do anything whatsoever, a white-hot light exploded behind his eyes. His whole body convulsed and he toppled over. Unconscious.
So much for escaping.
Chapter Twenty-One
ISABELA SILVA
SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN CANADA
SOMEONE WAS TOUCHING HER.
That was the first thing she became aware of. A sweaty hand gripped her wrist, almost like someone was taking her pulse. But that wasn’t it; there was something more happening in that touch. She felt an odd sensation, a tickle—it reminded her of this dumb game she used to play with her sister where they’d prick each other with their fingernails and then pull an imaginary thread up from the skin. It felt like that.
It all came back to Isabela in a rush. She’d been attacked by that psycho Einar and a couple of unidentified minions. She kept her eyes closed, trying to get a feel for her surroundings. She was on a bed of some kind, not a comfortable one, probably a cot. Wherever they’d taken her, it stunk—like body odor, fast food, and gasoline. Or maybe that was just the guy touching her.
Seriously, someone was touching her. And laughing quietly, like an amused child.
Isabela knew that the right move would be to play possum. Wait for this creep to go away before she opened her eyes.
But he was touching her.
She opened her eyes. A large young man stood over her, gripping her wrist in his meaty paw. He was chunky and pale, his head shaved, his eyes glistening with tears. By the size of him, Isabela figured this was the guy that she’d crashed into. He wore a sweat suit and a weird headband—or wait, that wasn’t a headband, it was an eye patch that he’d flipped up. What kind of weirdo brute was she dealing with?
The hand that wasn’t holding on to Isabela gripped a hand mirror, which he’d just been peering into. He looked down when Isabela stirred, but didn’t seem alarmed or particularly menacing. In fact, he looked almost giddy.
“I . . . I didn’t think it would work,” he stammered. “It’s, uh, your skin—”
Her skin. Merda, she’d almost forgotten. He’d seen her true form and even though that didn’t seem to matter much, considering she was among killers and crazies, Isabela still didn’t hesitate to shape-shift into her preferred shape—skin perfect and restored, beautiful again.
When she shape-shifted, the guy’s skin shimmered. For a moment he became tan like Isabela, before fading back to his creamy whiteness. He giggled. Actually, giggled.
“It’s amazing!” he babbled. “You’re amazing, I’m—I’m whole again.”
Enough of this madness. Time to bail.
“Get off me!” Isabela shouted.
The guy’s grip was tight, but not tight enough to hold Isabela. Especially not when she kicked him in the chest while simultaneously shoving him with her telekinesis. He staggered backwards against the metal wall of the tiny, featureless room.
The transformation was immediate. As soon as he lost contact with Isabela, the guy changed. One of his eyes turned into a ghastly hollow. Some weight melted off him—he was still big, but now his body sagged. Worst of all was his skin. He was covered in patches of blackened, dead flesh, like a patchwork of tumors. Isabela couldn’t help but scream.
“Stop! I don’t want to hurt you—!”
“Stay away, you freak!”
And then, she bolted.
Isabela sprinted out the only door, leaving behind the cot and fleeing into a deserted hallway. Dim lighting, steel walls, narrow, dusty. She darted by a panel covered in glowing symbols in a language she couldn’t understand but that looked like something in Dr. Goode’s lab. Where was she? Didn’t matter. She needed to find people. She knew the stories—Garde were always being kidnapped and brought to top secret facilities, and top secret facilities were staffed with prison guards and science dorks. If she could find some, she could blend in, steal an identity, and get clear of this mess.
She hurdled over a pile of blankets and dirty laundry—was that where someone slept? What the hell was this place? It didn’t exactly seem populated. Was this some abandoned complex where these weirdos were squatting?
Find a door. Get outside. Disappear.
Footsteps echoed behind her, the freak shouting at her. “There’s nowhere to go!”
If there was nowhere to go, then why was he chasing her? Idiot. That meant there was somewhere to go.
Isabela turned a corner, sprinting down another claustrophobic hallway. There was a door up ahead. Heavy-duty, bolted in place with thick bars that would normally require two people to lift—an emergency exit. She ran towards it, using her telekinesis to rip away the constraints as she went.
“Don’t—!”
She shoved against the door as hard as she could with her telekinesis. It flew outward.
Night. Sky. Rushing air.
They were flying. She was on some kind of aircraft.
“Oh, fuck me,” Isabela had time to say before the freezing wind sucked her outside.
And then she was falling.
Spinning and out of control, the wind buffeting her. Above, she caught a glimpse of the vessel—silver and bug-like and soon out of sight—now nothing to see but the ground below. Darkness, treetops, snow. She couldn’t even die looking at some pretty lights.
She screamed, because what else could she do?
“Got you.”
An arm around her waist, gripping her tight. Floating. She was floating.
The monster had her. He could fly. He’d saved her. And, apparently, he had also grabbed the emergency exit door that she had knocked loose—it floated nearby, held by his telekinesis. But that meant . . .
“You’re Garde,” she said, breathless from the screaming and the wind.
“I am Number Five,” he replied.
“Merda.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
KOPANO OKEKE
TOP SECRET WATCHTOWER FACILITY—LOCATION UNKNOWN
KOPANO CAME AWAKE SLOWLY. HIS EARS RANG AND his head pounded, a vague coppery taste bitter on his tongue. When he opened his eyes he expected to find himself back in his cell, but he was still on the cold floor of the control room. Karen Walker still sat at the table as before, although now she was reading a newspaper.
“How . . . what . . . ?” he mumbled, unable to form a coherent thought as he propped himself up on his elbows. Next to him, Ran moaned. She too had been taken down.
“Good, you’re awake,” Walker said, folding up her newspaper.
“What did you do to us?”
She tapped the side of her head where Kopano’s and Ran’s bandages were. “An Inhibitor chip has been surgically implanted into your skulls,” she said matter-of-factly. “If I hit the panic button on my phone, a temporarily debilitating shock will be administered to your nervous system. If—”
Kopano was still rubbing the side of his head in disbelief when Ran reached out with her telekinesis and yanked the phone away from Walker. She was on the floor, half leaning against the wall, yet even in that compromised position her glare was pure murder.
“Let us out of here,” Ran growled.
The device in her hand let out a series of shrill beeps. Walker cringed sympathetically.
“I wish you’d have let me finish talking,” she said.
Another explosion of white light. This time, Kopano managed to how
l before he passed out.
Thirty minutes went by. When Kopano woke up again he was still on the floor, but his head felt even worse than before, like it had been wedged in a vise and then dropped to the bottom of the ocean. Ran was next to him, awake first this time, dark circles around her eyes. Walker had her phone back.
“As I was trying to say,” Walker continued patiently, “the Inhibitors will also issue a shock if the controller ever leaves my immediate radius. There’s also an electric fence setting where they will shock you for going too far away from me. I’d rather not have to use that one, but will if you run. My controller here is not unique, there are others. Destroying it will get you nowhere.”
This was not what Kopano had pictured when he dreamed of being in Earth Garde. He sniffed loudly, then covered his face with his hands so this evil woman couldn’t see how close to tears he was.
“You’re torturing us,” he murmured.
