Ten
Belvedere Castle
The Warren had one way to communicate with the observation tower—a cell phone programmed to dial that number and no other. The phone was meant for emergencies or to relay critical information to the prisoners. After lunch in the dining room with the other Warren residents (Muriel somehow found another hour’s worth of things to talk about), Mai Lynn took me to a small room on the first floor where they kept the phone.
“One of the guards asked for you,” she said.
“Hello?” I said, equally curious and nervous.
“Ethan Swift?” a man’s voice said.
“Yes.”
“Hold one moment while I connect you. This call is being monitored by the Federal Department of Corrections.”
No kidding. A few seconds later, something beeped.
“Ethan?” Simon asked. He didn’t sound panicked, which was a good sign.
“I’m here. Everything okay?”
“Yes, we’re fine. I wanted to check in with you, in case you aren’t getting any news.”
“Not much of any, no. What’s up?”
“A lot of nothing so far. Rita McNally doesn’t have anything on Humankind, which means the group is probably new and very, very underground. The good news is, they haven’t acted a second time.”
“It’s only one in the afternoon. They’ve got all day.”
Simon grunted. “How’s the search going?”
I hesitated to say anything over the open line. The walkies we used were being monitored by the guards, so they knew we’d declared a meeting spot. They might even know we’d met with Thatcher earlier. But they didn’t know what we’d discussed, and I didn’t want to share those words so publicly.
“We have a promising lead,” I said. “They took the bait. Now we just need to see what they do with it.”
“Excellent. What are the odds, do you think?”
“I’ve never been a gambling man.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you this evening.”
“Yeah.”
I hooked the phone back up to its charger. Before I could leave the room, my walkie crackled to life.
“Swift?” Thatcher asked.
Heart skipping a bit faster, I yanked the walkie out of my pocket. “Swift here.”
“We want to talk more.”
“Good, okay.”
“We pick the time and place.”
“Wait, who’s ‘we’?”
A pause. “All of us. We’ll all be there.”
I pumped my first in the air. “Okay, when and where?”
“Four o’clock. Belvedere Castle.”
My thoughts stuttered. I did not want to go back to that place, especially to face Jinx for the first time. Damn it. “Okay, we’ll be there.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Myself, Mai Lynn, and two others.”
“Acceptable.”
“All right, good. See you at four.”
He didn’t sign off, but I took the conversation as over.
In three hours, I’d have the chance to look my father in the eyes for the first time. And I had no idea what I’d do when that moment finally came.
• • •
We had time, so we walked to the meeting in Central Park. Summer humidity pressed down, sunshine occasionally broken by the shield of leafy trees. Wildflowers had overtaken many of the grassy areas and paths, producing a pleasant, sweet aroma, and birds chirped and sang from all directions.
No one spoke during the trek north. Mai Lynn and I would do the talking. Aaron and Keene were backup. There was nothing left to discuss.
The outline of the castle came into view. We picked our way through the overgrown path like jungle explorers—except that the ruins ahead of us held no treasure. Just bad memories.
Aaron-as-Scott watched me intently once we reached the patio, probably expecting me to be overcome by memories or something. I hadn’t told anyone except Teresa about yesterday’s visit, but I was grateful now that I’d bothered. The crush of memories that had knocked me to my knees didn’t come back. I put my palms flat on one of the stone walls and gazed out over the murky pond behind the castle. The heavy odor of rot and standing water made my eyes itch. I stirred the breeze and sent the stink away from us.
The air shifted behind me and a shadow fell over the stones by my hand. “You all right?” Aaron whispered.
“Yes.” Hell, I didn’t even believe myself when I said it like that. “I just want to get this over with.”
“This entire trip?”
I turned, giving him my full attention for the first time since last night. Even with Scott’s face in place, something of Aaron still shone through in his eyes. Something familiar and grounding. I shook my head. “Just this meeting. A lot depends on it.”
“Ah. Performance anxiety?”
His deadpan delivery made me laugh, and that eased some of the tension.
“It’s four,” Mai Lynn said. She stood in the middle of the stone patio, hands on her hips. Keene flanked her like a silent bodyguard, arms folded across his large chest.
On a whim, I lifted myself up into the air until I had a good view of everything around us. Some of the trees had grown thickly at the southwest end of the castle, but I didn’t see anyone approaching. Had we been stood up?
“What do you see?” Mai Lynn asked.
A flash of light startled me into losing my concentration and almost falling out of the air. I caught and steadied myself, then accidentally propelled backward a few feet. On the opposite side of the patio from my allies stood nine people—eight adults and a child. They weren’t there five seconds ago. Nothing had been there but dead air. Derek Thatcher separated himself from the pack and stepped forward.
I dropped down next to Mai Lynn, eyes and ears alert for trouble. The adults blocked my view of the child, and I only got a brief glimpse of red hair near the back.
Jinx.
“That was quite the entrance,” I said.
“We’ve been here for some time, actually,” Thatcher said.
“How?” None of the men standing behind him possessed the kind of power necessary to shield them all so perfectly. Unless the boy—
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“Now, that’s a cliché I could live happily without ever hearing again.”
Thatcher smiled. “We wanted to observe you for a few minutes before revealing ourselves. We have as much to lose as you.”
“Fair enough.”
“Who’s that?” Thatcher pointed over my shoulder.
I didn’t have to look. I’d felt Aaron come up behind to flank me like Keene flanked Mai Lynn. “His name is Scott Torres,” I said. “He found us in Los Angeles a few months ago.”
“What’s his stake in this?”
The lies came easily. “He’s a Meta, too. The outcome of all this affects him like it affects us.”
Thatcher seemed satisfied. He looked behind him, and the man I’d conjured a hundred times in my nightmares stepped around the group, walked forward, and stopped next to Thatcher.
Freddy “Jinx” McTaggert lived up to everything the Scottish name implied—dark red hair, a pale complexion peeling in various spots from too much sun exposure, hazel eyes. He was my height, with a similar build—strong and wiry, but not overtly muscled. His face was lined by age, parts of his hair shot through with gray. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a middle-aged man in dire need of a long vacation.
He looked like the man who’d turned my mother’s powers against her and caused her slow, painful death.
Aaron’s hand closed over my elbow, a warning, and I stopped the breeze that had picked up. Shut down my rioting emotions before something bad happened. Jinx opened his mouth to say something. I must not have done a good job of keeping those emotions off my face, because he hesitated.
I worked out what I hoped was a bland expression.
“You know who I am?” Jinx asked.
You have no idea what I know about you. “Yes,” I said. Tilted my head in the direction of the men behind him. “I know almost everyone here.” Everyone except the boy I’d only seen from the air.
“There’s a good reason for that. Our children are our future.”
My stomach twisted. “There are a lot of young Metas outside this island, too, hoping for a future.”
“Derek told us about the murder of the Sanderson boy. Mankind’s capacity for cruelty is an amazing thing.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. “Probably not the experience that you assume, son.”
The son shit was annoying when Thatcher did it, but hearing the word from Jinx—even if he didn’t have a clue how accurate it was—made me physically ill. My stomach lurched and lunch threatened to make an encore appearance. I needed to get away, clear my head, but I couldn’t move. I would not show that kind of weakness in front of this bastard. Not ever.
“I betrayed your Rangers once,” Jinx said, as if he was commenting on the weather. “Why would you want my help now?”
“Don’t confuse want and need,” I snapped, temper rising.
Thankfully, Mai Lynn swooped in and saved the conversation from exploding. “Did Derek also explain what Ethan and Scott are doing here? What we’re hoping to do?”
“Of course he did,” Jinx replied. “And I stand by what Derek said. I don’t want my son growing up in what amounts to a concentration camp.”
“Your son?” I repeated dumbly. Good-bye, mouth-to-brain censor.
Jinx extended one hand behind him. The little boy came out of the back of the crowd, his hair a lighter, more golden version of Jinx’s. But he had the same face shape, the same freckles. He couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old, and he plastered himself to Jinx’s side. “My son, Andrew,” Jinx said.
Andrew stared up at me with wide, solemn eyes. Eyes that looked just like the ones I saw in the mirror every day.
Well, f*ck me sideways. I have a brother.
“We’re trying to establish a community for all of our children,” Mai Lynn said. “They deserve a secure place away from the public who fears them and the radicals who’d try to murder them.”
“And you really think you can build that here?” Jinx asked.
“We already have. The Warren—”
“Is a fantasy. Granted, it’s a lovely fantasy that’s working right now, but what about in a month’s time? Or a year’s? What happens to your lovely system when the government mandates that all known and registered Metas must live here? When hundreds, if not thousands, are forcibly relocated to your precious Warren?”
“That’s only one possible future. No one knows—”
“Exactly.” Jinx squeezed Andrew’s shoulder. “No one knows. No one knows what will happen when teenage Metas, who’ve only ever known the outside world and its technology, get thrown in here, where they have to scrape their food out of the dirt. What’s to stop another Meta split? Another War?”
“Us,” I said, almost shouting the word. At least I had everyone’s attention. “Look, we have another common enemy out there, and beyond the human radicals who hate us.”
Behind me, Aaron drew in a sharp breath. I hadn’t planned to share this bit of information, but telling them felt right. They deserved to know.
“What do you mean?” Mai Lynn asked.
“A few months ago, we encountered a new . . . something.” I wasn’t even sure what to call them. “It seems some scientists got together a long time ago and found a way to artificially create Meta powers. The result was a breed of people they call Recombinants. They have powers like us, but they’re made in test tubes and raised to fight.”
A soft murmur went through the cluster of men. Jinx and Thatcher exchanged unreadable looks.
“You’ve fought these Recombinants?” Thatcher asked.
“Two of them, yes. One could control the earth, the other fire.” I was not about to lay out all of their Changeling abilities—that would just throw Aaron under the bus and make them suspicious of his “Meta” power.
“Where did they come from?”
“Originally from a lab in Los Angeles, but they were taken away by someone else. I don’t know who took them or where they went, just that their caretaker was called the Overseer. And there are more of them.”
Mai Lynn glared. “This isn’t information you thought to share sooner?” she asked.
“I’m not supposed to be sharing it now.” To Jinx and Thatcher, I said, “If these Recombinants are sent after us, we may not have a chance to fight amongst ourselves. Hell, for all we know, they’re pulling the strings of this Humankind group.”
“You haven’t encountered them again since that first time?” Jinx asked.
Technically, we’re all encountering one right now, but that’s none of your business. “No. We killed the two who came after us. The rest have been silent ever since, but we can’t assume they’ll stay that way. We don’t know their numbers or their abilities. Whatever our pasts, Rangers or Banes, we need to unite and do what’s best for the majority.”
“This isn’t a democracy.”
“Why not?”
“Because power leads. It always has.”
I folded my arms over my chest, unwilling to back down. I was even starting to believe my own words. “Then what are you doing speaking for the men behind you? You don’t have a strong power of your own. You turn the abilities of others back against them.”
Jinx stared at me, his eyes moving, searching my face. Trying to figure something out. “Swift?” His eyebrows arched up. “Patricia had a son?”
My heart slammed hard against my ribs. “Yes. Would knowing that have stopped you from killing her?”
His entire face went blank. Tension rippled the air around us, coming from all directions. His people seemed to sense a fight. Aaron squeezed my elbow again—I could imagine the questions rolling around in his head. I didn’t lash out, didn’t move to attack. I glared at Jinx, waiting for an answer.
If Jinx had a clue who I was, he didn’t let on. “I know it’s worth nothing now,” he said, “but I’m sorry.”
I hadn’t expected an apology and I didn’t want it. Ten minutes ago, I wouldn’t have blinked if he’d dropped dead in front of me. But Andrew’s existence changed everything.
A distant buzzing sound tickled at my ears—no, not buzzing. Whirring, like the copter that brought us to and from the island. But why was it coming now? We’d arranged for pickup at seven.
“Look, none of us can predict the future,” Mai Lynn said, her voice tight and angry as she redirected the conversation. “This registration might be a first step toward freedom for us and our children, or a first step toward a lifetime of imprisonment. But nothing—nothing—will change if we don’t make a first step in one direction or another. We cannot keep standing still.”
The whirring was getting closer, but not from the direction I expected. I looked up, into the eastern sky. Sure enough, a black speck was moving toward us over the tops of empty buildings, now less than a block from the edge of the park. I had no idea of the regular schedule of the prison guards—maybe this was normal.
“That’s odd,” Mai Lynn said.
Maybe it wasn’t normal, after all.
The copter moved fast, too, faster than I’d ever seen one fly. It jerked a few times, as if not quite able to keep a straight line. Either the pilot couldn’t figure out where to go, or he sucked at flying.
“Andrew,” Jinx said, the word a command.
Everyone except Jinx and Thatcher huddled together and, in a flash of gray light, disappeared. That little boy took the concept of hiding in plain sight to a whole other level.
“I’m guessing helicopter inspections aren’t normal?” I asked.
“Once a week, always on Sunday,” Jinx replied. “But that’s not one of the prison copters.”
Alarm bells went off in my head.
Then something shrill went off in my pocket. The emergency signal on my walkie was screaming at me, as were the other walkies. A distant boom sounded in the east, and then something small streaked toward the approaching copter, leaving a tail of white smoke. The copter was over the park—
“Holy shit,” Keene said. “That’s an antiaircraft missile.”
“Run!” Jinx gave me a hard shove, then grabbed Thatcher’s arm and yanked. They bolted toward the empty place where their group had been.
I stumbled from the shove, right into Aaron, who kept me from falling over. In the sky, less than fifty yards from the castle, the missile met its mark. The rear of the copter exploded in a deafening concussion of force, sound, and fire. It fell, its carriage somehow still angled right at us.
“Ethan?” Aaron yelled.
“Go!” I said.
I threw everything I had at that falling copter, collecting the wind, trying to change the course of the approaching carnage. The copter seemed to fight me, to push straight for us. A barrage of ice hit the front of the copter—Keene. Helping. Trying to. I wasn’t doing much good, either.
We couldn’t stop it.
I pulled the wind around me and tried to rise, tried to get clear of the impact. Heat and fire flung me out of the way. And I flew.