I leaned forward to get a better look even though I had no idea what I was looking at. “I didn’t even know those things existed anymore.”
“They don’t. Or this one doesn’t. It was shut down in the early seventies. According to the public records, it’s been bought and sold a couple times, but never actually converted into anything useful. Empty mostly. The bank foreclosed on the last owner over five years ago.” He tapped the screen again.
Simon, who just had to know something about everything, added, “Makes it the perfect hideout.”
Jett nodded, as usual agreeing with everything his fearless leader had to say. The hero worship was nauseating and a strike against Jett as far as I was concerned. Beside me, Griffin stayed silent, which from her was as good as agreement. An asylum it was, I supposed, and prayed Jett was half as smart as these people thought he was.
I leaned back and looked out the window, thinking of what I would say when we finally found Kyra.
I wasn’t sure I’d know until I saw her face. I wished I could be like her and remember everything she did—the things she’d told me about. I know she said some of them were bad, but some of them . . .
My breath had fogged the glass and I absently traced a pattern with my finger.
Some of them must’ve been good too. Kyra had said so.
She’d told me she loved me.
Two more hours. Two more hours until hopefully, with an arsenal to outfit a small army and some luck, we’d get Kyra back and maybe we could talk again. Maybe she’d help me sort it out . . .
I could tell her all the things I’ve been thinking . . . feeling. About her.
I looked up at the words I’d written in the steam:
I’ll remember you always . . .
CHAPTER SIX
“HEY, SLEEPYHEAD.” THE SINGSONG VOICE sounded like it was echoing down a tunnel. “Someone slept the whole day away. Glad you decided to join the land of the living.”
Living. Is that what this was? If my head hadn’t been pounding and my ears ringing, I might have laughed. As it was, all I could manage was to open my eyes. Not bad, all things considered.
When I turned, Blondie was at the monitor, observing my heart rate.
Ever since being returned, I’d been envious of normal humans—people who needed a solid eight hours sleep. Now, if I never lost consciousness again it would be too soon.
Although I wasn’t sure you could really compare the comatose state these freaks had been keeping me in with actual sleep.
“Go to hell,” I rasped.
She chuckled. “Aw, don’t be like that. Did you think we accidentally left you all by your lonesome?” She made a tsk-ing sound while she came around to check me out. “Come on, Kyra. You’re not stupid. Natty told us what you could do . . . that little trick—moving things with your mind. Eddie Ray just wanted to see it in action. Have a little fun with you.” Her mouth twitched slightly. “Guess he didn’t realize how much damage you’d do.”
But I was too focused on the other thing she’d told me, about my escape not being an accident. My chest felt heavy. “So . . . you . . . were just messing with me?” Why hadn’t I considered that sooner?
Shrugging indifferently, she tapped an IV line that I assumed was how they kept me in various states of consciousness. “Just separating truth from fiction, so to speak. Eddie Ray likes to test the merchandise—calls it quality control. Plus, we needed to find out whether that little trick of yours was something we could defend against.” Smugly, she kept talking as she moved around, checking machines and connections. “Those sirens . . . those were my idea. You dropped like a rock. They should give us a good second line of defense against you since the meds haven’t been as . . . effective as we’d hoped. Not bad, huh?”
I blinked, my eyelids still heavy from the sedation. “They seem pretty effective to me,” I told her, thinking about the way I’d missed entire days . . . entire sunrises.
“That’s because you’re on a dose high enough to kill an elephant, and even that has to be on a continuous drip or your body just”—she chewed her lip—“metabolizes it.”
“What’s to defend against? What did I ever do to you?” My voice wobbled. I tried to turn away, but the collar around my neck prevented me.
Blondie grinned. “Might as well get comfortable. We can’t transport you until we can guarantee it’s secure.” My face screwed up as I tried to figure out which part to focus on first. She must have thought she could pinpoint my confusion. “Oh, the transfer. Yeah, we’re not keeping you here forever. We’re just the . . . how do I say this? We’re what you could call brokers.”
“Brokers?” I managed to squeak out.