Exiled (TalentBorn Book 2) Read online

  The door swings open again and two more figures walk through. They nod a greeting to Ephraim, glance curiously at us, and then settle into two of the armchairs. The redhead takes a seat near Ephraim, and Ryan by the door. If they think that will stop us from leaving if we want, then they’re sorely underestimating us. Me especially.

  “Good, we’re all here,” Ephraim says once everyone is settled. By ‘all’ I presume he means all who are involved in the decision-making process, since Scott’s read on the place put a far greater number of people here, not to mention that the sheer size of the warehouse would be unnecessary for so small a number of people.

  “This is Alistair,” Ephraim says, gesturing to the stoic looking man in his mid-thirties who has just entered, who gives us a curt nod, “and this is Mary,” he adds, gesturing to the older lady who had accompanied him.

  “Ryan,” here he gestures to the guy who’d brought the tray of coffee, “and Mika.” The redhead. She’s in her late teens at the most. We all share a brief round of nods. “We are all – as our friends at AbGen would say – absas.”

  I wonder what their talents are, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about absa etiquette from Langford House, it’s that you don’t ask someone what they can do – they volunteer the information when they are ready.

  “I’m Scott,” Scott says, for the benefit of the newcomers, “and this is Anna. I’m a tracker.”

  “And I can shift,” I add.

  Ephraim merely nods.

  “We know.” He must notice my confused look, because he adds: “Ryan here can detect the gifts of others. Why do you think we allowed you to enter? We do not open our door to just anyone.”

  I’d hazard a guess that Ryan was doing more than just getting drinks when he left the room – he’d been cluing the others in on our talents. I try to ignore the churning in my stomach and the prickling heat spreading across the back of my neck.

  “We were intrigued by your gift in particular, Anna.” I start and look up from the sofa when he says my name, and shift my weight as I feel everyone’s eyes on me. Am I supposed to thank him for the compliment? Was it actually a compliment? The last time someone took such an interest in my talent, he tried to lock me in a cage until I was ready to be a better team player. So the Ishmaelian leader’s ‘intrigue’ in what I can do has me feeling even twitchier than I was two minutes ago. Fortunately Scott has me covered, deflecting the attention before I can make an idiot of myself, or follow through on my sudden desire to disappear.

  “That’s an interesting talent, Ryan,” he says to the young man, and then turns to Ephraim with a smile. “We’re very grateful for your hospitality. We’ve been looking for you for quite some time.”

  “It doesn’t always suit us to be found,” Alistair says.

  By which I assume he means that they know we’ve been looking for them. Would’ve been nice if they’d reached out to us.

  “I understand,” Scott says, sounding a whole lot more understanding than I feel. “What do you call yourselves?”

  “AbGen call us Ishmaelians. It serves.”

  So we had the right name, and still almost no-one had heard of them. And I thought AbGen had this whole clandestine thing down. These guys are experts. I suppose they’d have to be, I admit a little more charitably, after being in hiding from Gardiner and his men for years. I’ve only been on the run for a month and already it’s wearing me down and eroding what little trust I had in other people.

  “But I think it is time for us to ask the questions,” Ephraim says. Scott invites him with an open hand.

  “Please, go ahead. We’re happy to answer your questions.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps you can tell us why you are no longer with AbGen?”

  “We found out what really happens there. Gardiner was not the man we thought he was. I thought he was,” Scott corrects himself. “He showed his true colours when he tried to stop Anna from leaving.”

  Mika leans forward and whispers in Ephraim’s ear. He listens, nodding.

  “Perhaps I could finish answering before your reader starts scanning my thoughts?” Scott asks stiffly. Ephraim answers him with an amused smile, though the girl shrinks back in her seat. I feel sorry for her; she’s just a kid, and she’s only following orders, after all.

  “Mika is not a mind reader. Rather, she can hear when one speaks the truth, or not.”

  Whoa. Cool talent. I wouldn’t have minded that one myself. On the other hand, I bet there’s one hell of a trade-off: I wonder how many people never lower their guards around her. Must make for a lonely life.

  “I’m sure you didn’t expect us to let you enter our home without first being sure you weren’t here to betray us?”

  Makes sense. I’d wondered why they’d been so quick to let us enter. Mika must be invaluable to Ephraim.

  “I understand,” Scott says, some of the stiffness leaving him. “We’ve got information we’re willing to share, to prove our good intentions. I think it will be of interest to you.”

  The redhead nods, though Ephraim isn’t watching her. Scott’s not wrong: if AbGen really do have this location nailed down to within a few miles, and Pearce is organising their ex-military personnel into a strike force, then the lives of everyone on this base could hang on whether Scott chooses to share that information. I hope Ephraim remembers that when Scott tells him.

  “And I trust you will share that information with us when you see that we, too, have good intentions. Please, continue explaining your reasons for leaving AbGen.”

  I can see something Ephraim has said has rubbed Scott the wrong way. He’s not normally so sensitive, then again, he doesn’t usually walk into a negotiation without having slept. These are important allies: we need them if we’re going to fight back against AbGen, and that means we need them to want us, even if they just covet my talent. Better that, and leave on our own terms if they over-step, than be kicked out – or worse – right now. We need them to trust us. I take over.

  “Gardiner wanted to weaponise my ability,” I tell him. “I’m not prepared to be anyone’s weapon.” I underscore that with my voice just in case he’s getting any ideas – I have to draw the line somewhere – and continue. “When I wanted to leave, he tried to clip my wings and lock me in a cage in the basement. It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s the truth.”

  “I believe you,” Ephraim says, without so much as a glance at Mika. That gives me pause. “Please, continue.”

  “I got away. I was lucky. There was a girl trapped down there who didn’t have a get out of jail free card – so we thought, anyway. Scott found me and we went into hiding, but we couldn’t leave Megan behind. Scott convinced Gardiner that he had me… compliant, and wanted to trade me for his place back in AbGen.”

  I squeeze Scott’s hand, and he gives me a faint smile. He needs more caffeine; I need him back on his game. I’m not good at this. I take a sip from my mug and eye his meaningfully. He gets my drift and drinks. I turn my attention back to Ephraim, who is waiting patiently for me to continue.

  “We broke Megan out, but AbGen had already turned her. We think she’d been down there for months. It was a trap. It almost worked. We had a little help from Gardiner’s mind reader.” I don’t say his name, out of respect to Joe – I don’t want to bring trouble to his door if this backfires. More trouble, that is. “He shot Gardiner and helped us get out. Gardiner was thinking about you before he died. That’s how we knew to come looking for you.”

  I take a breath and push the images to the back of my mind. It wasn’t exactly one of the highlights of my year. A lot of people got hurt – including Scott. My knuckles were swollen for days afterwards, and Scott still hasn’t fully recovered, though he keeps trying to tell me otherwise. Mika would make short work of his protests.

  “They’ve been hunting us ever since,” I continue after a moment. “A few days ago, they killed my best friend to lure us out.”

  Mika coughs, and we all turn to look at her. I frown. />
  “We suspect they killed her,” Scott says. “But we’re not certain.”

  Well, I’m pretty damn certain. At least, I thought I was. I want to think about it some more, but Scott is speaking again.

  “What we are certain about is how far they’re willing to go to get Anna back. They set an ambush for us at the funeral. If we didn’t still have friends in AbGen, it would have worked.”

  Damn near did work. I remember Helen and Nathan play acting their part, making it seem as though four armed agents had the drop on us, and shudder.

  “And what is it you want from us?” Ephraim is direct and to the point, for which I’m grateful. I don’t think I can stomach any beating around the bush right now. Scott sets his mug down, and locks eyes with the Ishmaelian leader.

  “If you’re willing to go up against AbGen,” he says, “we want to be part of the fight.”

  Chapter Nine

  We’re outside the warehouse, taking a slow walk back to the car. After Scott’s declaration, Ephraim and the others said they had things to discuss amongst themselves, and ‘invited’ us to stretch our legs outside for a while, which is a hair politer than telling us to get lost so they can talk about us without us hearing, I suppose. And who said manners were dead?

  I hope we’ve said enough to convince them, because at this point I don’t even know what plan B is, but if I had to guess I’d say it involved more running, and I’m getting pretty weary of changing town every couple of days. Things might not be too rosy for a while if we join forces with the Ishmaelians and go to war against AbGen, but at least there’ll be hope that one day we can stop running, which is more than we have right now. And what if next time Pearce decides to use my mother – the only family I have – to lure me out? I just can’t take the risk. We have to find a way to stop them, and Ephraim’s band of rebels is our best shot. When Scott asks what I make of them, that’s what I tell him. He’s unconvinced by my speech.

  “I saw the look on your face when Ephraim started speaking about your talent.”

  “Hey, just because one psycho wants to lock me in a cage, doesn’t mean they all do, right?” I say with a whole heap more conviction than I feel. It’s Scott though, so I’m not fooling him. He might just as well have Mika’s talent given how easily he reads me. I sigh, and lean back against the car. I don’t feel like sitting right now.

  “What choice do we have, Scott? We need them. It’s that simple.”

  “We do have a choice, Anna. We could get in the car and leave right now.”

  “And run from two groups instead of one. Great plan.” It comes out sharper than I intended, and I see the hurt look flash through Scott’s eyes before he covers it up.

  “Sorry,” I say immediately, closing the gap between us. “I just hate feeling so trapped.” His arms envelope me, and this sort of trapped I don’t mind. I’d stay in his arms forever.

  “I mean it, Anna. We could drive away, just the two of us. They’d never find us. I’ll protect you for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes.”

  “I know you would,” I say, leaning my head against his chest. And I know he’d never once complain about it. But if we did it, then I’d have to wake every morning wondering if that would be the day I’d lose him. A sniper, an ambush, a carefully planned ‘freak accident’. I won’t let that happen.

  “You don’t have to save the world, you know,” he tells the top of my head. I smile into his chest. Saving the world is the last thing on my mind, it’s just a by-product of what I really want, which is to save Scott. He sees the best in me, but really I’m just being selfish. He’s too much a part of my life for me to let him go.

  A car rumbles along the road and I idly watch its progress from inside Scott’s embrace. The vehicle slows slightly, probably looking for any sign that we’ve broken down. It’s good to know that there are still some good, honest people out there. It looks like they’re going to stop – they slow right down as they draw level with us and I glance in through the driver’s window to tell our Good Samaritan that we’re not in need of help. My smile quickly turns to a gasp. Scott’s arms loosen around me.

  “Anna? What’s wrong?”

  The blond driver continues to stare at me, then floors the accelerator and speeds off. Scott’s face hardens, staring into the trail of dust left in the vehicle’s wake. I’m staring that way too, but all I can see is the driver’s face. The same face I saw at Janey’s funeral, and again when I shifted away from Joe’s house. Different car, same face. It’s too much to be a coincidence now.

  “He’s following us.”

  “What? Who?”

  “The driver,” I say, gesturing frantically at the disappearing car.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Get in!” I pull open the car door and he stares at me blankly. “Come on, get in! He’s getting away!”

  A bemused looking Scott climbs into the car and I floor the gas. Scott’s door slams shut and he makes a grab for his seat belt as the car hurtles along the bumpy road, throwing us all over the place.

  “Anna, can you please tell me what the hell is going on?” He has to shout to make himself heard above the protesting engine, and all I can think is we should have kept hold of the Ninja – we’d have caught him in no time.

  “I saw him at Janey’s funeral,” I say, not taking my eyes from the car in front. It’s not much more than a small blob in the distance, but it’s getting bigger. “And then again, after I shifted.”

  “Are you sure?” I catch a glimpse of him, and he’s not looking confused any more. His jaw is set with determination and his eyes are locked onto the car in front. We both know I don’t need to answer that question. Instead, I say;

  “He’s working for AbGen, he’s got to be.”

  The car hits a bump in the road and lands with a jolt that travels right up my spine, almost wrenching the wheel from my hands. I grip it tighter and grit my teeth, inwardly urging the car on. How can anything that’s throwing us around this much be so damned slow at the same time?

  “No, I don’t think so,” Scott says. “Otherwise he’d have called them in after you shifted.”

  That gives me pause – figuratively, not literally, because we’re still edging closer to the other car. Scott’s right. If our stalker – or rather, my stalker – was an agent, he’d have called it in to Pearce and I’d never have made it back to Ryebridge. I’m vulnerable right after a shift, and Pearce knows it, which means I have to assume all his agents know it. The car hits a pothole and swerves off to one side. Cursing, I drag it back on track and watch the needle gradually climb back up above seventy.

  “Did you get a read off him?”

  “No, he’s not an absa.”

  “Then who the hell is he?”

  “I don’t think you’re going to be asking him today.”

  Scott’s right. He’s pulling further away. Unless this car suddenly grows a second engine, we’re not going to catch him.

  “Dammit!”

  I pound my hand on the wheel and slow the car to a stop. Scott seems remarkably calm.

  “We’ll catch him next time.”

  “Next time?” I don’t like the sound of that. I cut the engine and give my full attention to exactly how alarming that thought is.

  “If you’re right about him,” Scott says grimly, “he’ll be back.”

  Curse Scott and his unassailable logic.

  “Except,” I realise, “he knows we know now. He’s going to be more careful next time.”

  Curse my stupid impulsiveness. I should never have let on I knew who he was and chased after him. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Now I’m really going to be looking over my shoulder. A trill ringing shatters the silence, making both of us jump. Scott chuckles and pulls his phone from his pocket.

  “Guess today’s got us both a little on edge.”

  Of course, Scott has the excuse of being massively sleep deprived. I’m just a wimp. Back at AbGen there was a scientist c
alled Toby. Great guy. Genius. Zero people skills – but a good heart. He once told me he had this theory that our talents were linked to our personalities, or vice versa. Like Scott’s a tracker because he was naturally drawn to people, and Joe’s a mind reader because he was naturally intuitive. I’m a shifter because I get spooked easily. That’s as diplomatically as he could phrase “coward” but it was Toby, so I didn’t take it personally. And also, I suspect he’s probably right. I miss Toby. He’s the one who got to the bottom of the blackouts I was having a couple of months ago. I hope when we overthrow Pearce we can work together again. There’s no denying that life was easier when all of AbGen’s resources were dedicated to helping me instead of hunting me.

  “Yes?” Scott answers the phone. He tells me it’s a security thing, but I suspect he just has really bad phone manners. Like most of his habits, it’s rubbed off on me, and I never identify myself when I answer the phone now, or say any more than I have to. You never know who’s listening, and if you think that’s paranoid, you should check out the comms room at Langford House. Everything the conspiracy theorists ever dreamed up is true. Except the moon landing. I’m pretty sure that really happened.

  “Okay, we’re on our way.” He ends the call and puts the phone away. “They’re ready to see us.”

  This morning’s butterflies come back with a vengeance, but I take some hope from the fact they actually want to see us, instead of leaving us hanging while they bolt to their next hideout. Unless, of course, they want to bring us in so they can cover their tracks more thoroughly, and cover us too. I shake my head and put the car in gear. I really am starting to get paranoid.

  *

  “Thank you for your patience,” Ephraim says, leading us back into the meeting room, as if we’d had a choice in the matter. I smile and play along, though I shove my hands in my pockets so he can’t see them trembling. Paranoia and adrenaline are not a good combination.

  “Thank you for inviting us back. We’re grateful for your trust.”

  Ephraim’s inner circle are back in their seats – or perhaps still in them – as we re-enter the room, and resume our seat on the sofa. Ephraim offers us another drink, but I decline. I don’t think caffeine is a good idea right now, and I don’t want him to see my hands shaking and get the wrong idea. I’m not scared, it’s just the adrenaline from the chase. I’ve got nothing to be afraid of. I just wish someone would tell the butterflies that.