Caged (Talented Saga) (3 page)

They had offered to remove the scar as was customary, but I was still a little fuzzy on how I’d actually received it. I didn’t want to erase the only evidence that it had happened at all.
A perverse part of me also liked the reminder that I now owed Crane for more than just my parents’ murders.

My recovery had been a long and painful process, including learning how to walk again.
I now received a shot every day to stabilize the chemicals that Crane’s men had injected, reducing number of seizures that had plagued me since returning from Nevada. Initially, the doctors were unable to develop an effective antidote, and the episodes were so frequent that I spent most of my time in a drug-induced coma. Eventually, the team of researchers created an equalizer that allowed me to function, but it left me tired and weak.

My primary Medical doctor, Dr. Thistler, had treated me after my parents’ deaths as well, but my memories of her weren’t as clear as those of Dr. Wythe.
Mac told me that she’d been one of the physicians to monitor my condition during my previous stay at Toxic’s Medical facility, but I’d been too traumatized to be aware of my surroundings. She was nice enough, but her involvement in my life served as a daily reminder that I was sick and currently unable to avenge my parents. I longed for a day when she would enter the examination room and proudly declare that she’d found a cure. Unfortunately, the more time that passed, the less confident I became that the time would ever come.

“Natalia, are you dressed?” Mac called from the sitting room, snapping me back to reality.

Grabbing for my shirt, I hastily pulled it over my head. I reached for the insanely bright white shoes and yanked them on as fast as possible. Then I noticed the bag that Gretchen packed for me with the meager personal items that I was allowed to take to the School, and stuffed the rest of my clothes inside. I slung the small duffel over my shoulder and walked out to the sitting room to meet Mac. I didn’t look back on the room that had been like a prison for the last nine months.

Chapter Three

Mac and Gretchen’s home was located two west of the School’s main campus.
Mac drove me the short distance in a road vehicle that he kept on hand for getting around the compound.

“You really don’t need to hold my hand and walk me to class,” I snapped once we were seated in the car.
Though Mac had been like my surrogate father, our relationship had first become strained while I was in my Pledge year. The past nine months had done a little to repair the rift; I was bitter about my current situation and though I knew it was irrational I blamed him.

“I just want to ensure that you make it there okay,” he replied mildly, his eyes fixed on the road.
I gave him an odd look; did he forget that I had attended to this school for six years? I’d already taken all these classes, and I was fairly confident that I could find them in my sleep. Opening my mind, I risked gently probing Mac’s.

“Natalia......” he warned.
Mac was one of the few people who could detect when I tried to read him, and he effectively blocked most of my attempts. Mac’s uncanny ability to block me was my own doing – I’d conditioned him against mental intrusion.

“Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly, only sorry that I’d been caught.

The stone façade of the administration building came into view several minutes later. Mac pulled the car to a stop in the rounded, gravel drive, and he reached for the bags at my feet.

“I’ll have these sent up to your new room,” he offered.

Now that I was safely on campus, I figured that Mac would bid me farewell, and retreat inside to his office. Instead, he started walking away from the administration building. I quickly followed him.

As we neared the outdoor practice area, Mac sped up.
My short legs could barely match pace with his stride. I was so focused on keeping up that I didn’t notice when he stopped; I ran smack into his broad back, my head bouncing painfully off the bottom edge of a shoulder bone.
Smooth, Talia
, I thought to myself. But Mac barely noticed. I stood behind him, my view obstructed by his massive frame, rubbing my forehead and waiting for him to introduce me.

“Director McDonough,” a deep voice greeted him respectfully.
I froze. The morning was relatively warm, and the thin sweatshirt that I was wearing had caused sweat to dot my forehead and upper lip, but that voice raised gooseflesh on my arms and made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

My heart raced, images flashed through my mind:
fingers light as feathers on my arms, running up my sides, blue eyes so full of longing and desire, soft lips against mine, wind whipping wet hair in my face, glass shards spraying my cheeks, the taste of blood in my mouth, a big hand gripping both my small, blood covered, ones.
Stay with me, Tal, stay with me
, his voice pleaded in my head.

I wasn’t entirely sure where that last image had come from, but the other memories were traumatic enough that I didn’t dwell, on it.
I was torn between two overwhelming desires – one was to run all the way back to Mac and Gretchen’s house, bury my face in my pillows, and cry myself to sleep; the second was to attack, viciously assault the boy standing not twenty feet from me.

“Donavon,” Mac replied, “I have your new assistant,” he paused briefly, “
You , of course, know Natalia Lyons.” Mac stepped aside, exposing me to Donavon and his students. Paralyzed, I stood in place as the images swam over and over through my mind. My breathing was labored, my heart beating so fast that I thought for sure everyone could see it through my chest. Mac placed his hand on my shoulder, his touch bringing me back to the present. I tried to smile as I glanced at the seated students, hoping that I looked nervous, but not unstable, which is exactly how I felt.

Finally when I couldn’t put it off any longer, I looked directly at Donavon.
He was tall like his father, his shoulders broad, body lean, the muscles in his arms and chest were clearly visible through his thin navy t-shirt. His own gray sweatpants were slung low on his narrow hips. His blue eyes looked as shocked as I felt, his shaggy dark blonde hair was messy, like he’d only run his hand through it when he got out of bed that morning. His normally generous mouth appeared thin, his lips pressed together as if he were desperately trying to keep something inside. He was just as beautiful as I remembered, and the feelings swelling up inside of me were just as dark as I remembered.

When Donavon’s gaze met mine, the primal urge to strike him was so strong that I had to fight to maintain control.
A low guttural growl escaped my pursed lips as a light breeze kicked up, the air around me grew cold and clouds began to gather overhead. Mac’s grip on my shoulder tightened painfully. The wind became stronger and a raindrop splashed my cheek. Mac’s fingers bit into my flesh, his nails digging in so hard that I thought for sure they’d torn my sweatshirt. The pain reeled in my rage; the winds died down and the sky slowly cleared. The whole scene occurred in mere seconds.

“Instructor McDonough,” I hissed through tightly clenched teeth.
I tried to give Donavon my most angelic smile, but I could tell from the thoughts he was projecting that I looked slightly crazed.

Confident that I wouldn’t maim his son – start a natural disaster – Mac’s grip on my shoulder released.
“I’ll check on you later in the day, Natalia.”

I nodded, so furious at him for springing Donavon on me like this that I didn’t trust myself to speak.
He gave a short wave to the class and a nod towards Donavon. “Stop by and see me soon, son.”

Donavon gave his father an easy smile.
“You got it, Dad.”

With that, Mac turned and left me to face his son alone.
But I couldn’t move; my feet felt as if they were stuck in quicksand.

“Talia, please have a seat.
I’m going to demonstrate the skills that we’ll be working on today, and then we’ll break off into pairs to work on them,” Donavon said to me, his voice full of unspoken tension. His intense gaze penetrating straight through my skin, piercing my heart.

So many questions burned hot and ugly inside of me.
Why did you cheat on me? Why didn’t you have the decency to apologize? Why didn’t you ever try to talk to me after everything happened? What are you doing here now?
Yet when I opened my mouth, nothing came out, my unspoken questions handing in the air like a thick fog. Donavon’s gaze remained on me.

Until nine months ago, I had trained for hostile situations.
Now, looking into the face of the boy who had broken my heart, I could barely contain my emotions or my powers.
Get a grip, Talia
, I scolded myself.
He’s not important. You don’t care about him, and he doesn’t care about you. Sit down and act like a normal human being
. Heeding my own advice, I slowly eased myself on to a cushy mat at the back of the class. Donavan reluctantly dragged his eyes from me and began his lesson.

He began reviewing basic offensive maneuvers, nothing too complicated or advanced.
This must be a remedial class,
I thought to myself. When it was time to break in to partners, I walked around the periphery, observing the students. I made small corrections in technique when I saw fit, but I was still so distracted by coming face-to-face with Donavon that little else mattered.

During my stay at Mac’s house, I hadn’t been allowed visitors or communication with anyone besides Mac, Gretchen, and the select Medicals that came to treat me.
No one had even mentioned Donavon, let alone told me that he was teaching at the School. Though, the more I thought about it, maybe Gretchen had tried – she’d been nervous and tense when we’d talked over breakfast this morning. Looking at Donavon now, all I could think was that she really should’ve tried harder.

When I’d left for Nevada, Donavon had been an Elite Operative, same as me, and was stationed at the Elite Headquarters in West Virginia, same as me.
He’d also been my boyfriend since I was thirteen, but it ended when I’d caught him naked in bed with another girl.

It now made perfect sense that Mac had insisted on accompanying me that morning.
He must’ve known that, best case scenario, the moment that I saw Donavon, I would leave. Worst case scenario, I would cause my own natural disaster right then and there. He’d been right; without Mac’s painful presence, I likely would’ve done something drastic. I’d always lacked impulse control, but lately, my temper was more easily provoked, and reining it in had become harder.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Donavon called class to an end.
Grateful to escape his unwelcome presence, I turned to leave with the students.

“Talia, can I have a quick word?”
Donavon called after me. I briefly considered refusing to speak to him, but then thought better of it. I’d have to face him eventually; now was as good a time as any. Since this assignment wasn’t exactly voluntary, it was unlikely that Mac was going to let me opt-out just because I didn’t want to work with Donavon.

I’d stopped in my tracks when he called my name, and twisted my neck to meet his gaze.

“Hey, Donavon, you got a second?” a female voice rang out from across the paddock. Despite the distraction, Donavon’s eyes remained locked with mine, pain and regret visible in their cerulean depths. His mind was unguarded, and the thoughts and feelings that poured freely tore open the wound that his betrayal had created.

“Um, sure,” he called regretfully to the approaching woman.

I snapped my head to face forward and swallowed the rage and bitterness that threatened to rip from my throat in an animalistic scream. His gaze bore into the back of my skull.

“
I had no idea
,” his mental voice said inside my head. Willing myself to remain composed, I closed my eyes, slowly exhaled, and counted to three.

When I opened my lids, I forced one sneakered foot in front of the other, away from the boy who’d broken my heart.
I could hear the soft murmur of Donavon and the woman conversing, but their words were indistinguishable over buzzing between my ears. A loud, satisfying crack filled the morning air, followed by two strangled yelps as a large limb landed a foot from where Donavon and the woman stood. Pausing briefly to relish in my childish antics, I smiled, continuing to walk away. Maturity had never really been my strong suit.

Instead of going to my next class, I ran to the Headmistress’ office.
I barely noticed the lush green lawn or perfectly manicured flower beds that decorated the School’s grounds. I could not believe that Mac had done this to me – what was he thinking? Force an interaction between me and Donavon? Was he crazy? Mac was the one who’d continually insisted that my mental state was fragile; what made him think that being around Donavon was a good idea?? Donavon’s betrayal had nearly destroyed me, and now when I was more vulnerable than I’d been in my entire life, Mac was forcing me to relive that pain. What was wrong with him? I continued my mental rant the entire way to the administration building.

Chapter Four

I pushed the wooden door open with more force than necessary, and it gave a satisfying bang as it hit the door jam.
The secretary seated behind a sleek wooden desk jumped when I entered.

“Can I help you, dear?” she asked, with a sickeningly pink
lipsticked smile.

“Is Janet in?”
I practically growled at her.

“You mean Headmistress Evans, dear?” she replied, her pleasant demeanor becoming disapproval.

“Yeah, whatever. Is she in?” I demanded.

“Is she expecting you, dear?”
The smile remained plastered to her face, but suspicion clouded her brown eyes. My temper was already bubbling over and her condescending tone made me want to throttle her.

Whoa, Talia.
Calm down, she’s just a secretary
, I warned myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinched the bridge of my nose and took three deep breaths before answering. Seizures weren’t the only lingering effect of my trip to Nevada; my temper had developed a hair-trigger since the ordeal, although that was more likely a byproduct of cabin fever.

I replaced my scowl with a near manic smile of my own.
“I would imagine she is expecting me,” I replied as calmly as I could manage.

“Your name, dear?”
Ugg, stop effing calling me dear!

“Talia, Talia Lyons.”
Pink Lipstick pushed a button on her console. I heard a buzzing noise and then the secretary lifted a handheld unit and spoke into it.

“Excuse me, Headmistress Evans?” she asked.
She paused as Janet replied a greeting.

“There is a student here to see you, ma’am.
She claims to have an appointment.” Pink Lipstick paused again. “Ms. Lyons,” she answered.

Awesome,
she thinks I’m a student.

“Yes, madam, Talia Lyons,” the secretary said firmly.
The secretary’s face flushed as Janet admonished her for making me wait.

Janet’s secretary didn’t appear to be more than late forties at best, but her hearing must already be failing if she kept the volume turned up loud enough that I could hear both sides of the conversation from across the desk.
She quietly replaced the handheld unit, looked up and gave me another big pink smile. “The Headmistress will see you now.”

Marching past the secretary’s desk, I twisted the large brass doorknob below the nameplate reading “Headmistress Evans.”
Janet Evans had become Headmistress of the McDonough School when Mac had been promoted to Director of the Agency. I’d first met her during one of my family’s bi-annual visits to the Agency Compound. Janet had been a Hunter then, and along with Mac, had been one of the Operatives assigned to guard my family during our trip, and I’d taking an instant liking to her. After I’d been enrolled at the School, Janet had become somewhat of a role model for me.

After my parents had been killed, Janet left the Hunters to become the Headmistress and keep watch over me.
She was one of the few who knew the extent of my abilities, what I was actually capable of. In fact, Janet was one of the only people alive who had seen my powers. She’d been with Mac when he rescued me from the destroyed hotel room that had been the scene of my parents’ deaths.

When I walked into her office, Janet was standing behind her large oak desk with her back to me.
She was tall - close to six feet - and slim. Her reddish-brown hair was streaked with wisps of gray and cut to just above her shoulders. She wore a tailored navy pant suit and the collar of a white oxford shirt peeked out from underneath the jacket.

“I told him that this was a horrible idea,” she stated, her back still to me, her hands busy with something in front of her.

“A horrible idea? That might be an understatement.” The anger that had been building since I’d first laid eyes on Donavon was close to boiling completely over. Janet turned to face me, her slim fingers curled around two crystal glasses that were three-quarters full of amber liquid. Her dark green eyes, creased at the edges, radiated concern.

She held one of the glasses out, in my direction.
I walked slowly forward and wrapped both of my small hands around the cool glass, tracing the Agency’s logo engraved on the side of the tumbler. Janet raised her drink in a mock-toast, and I gently clanged my own with hers. I looked down into amber liquid, wishing that I could drown myself in its depths before bringing the cup to my lips. The liquor burned first my tongue, then my throat, and finally my stomach. Draining half the glass, I felt the tension slowly ebb and the anger dissipate.

I sank into one of the two leather chairs on my side of Janet’s desk.
The chair was slick, the liquor had gone instantly to my head, and I nearly slid right off. I scooted all the way back, my feet dangling as they could no longer reach the floor. Meeting Janet’s eyes, I finally managed my first real smile of the day.

“Better?” she asked.

“It’s a start,” I admitted.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, the concern still heavy in her gaze.

“In general? Or today specifically?”

“Well, I was asking generally. I can imagine how you’re feeling today,” she laughed, slipping into her desk chair.

“Generally, pretty good. The seizures are becoming less frequent. I haven’t had one in almost a month, so I guess that’s good news,” I mumbled. Following my return from Nevada, seizures had been a daily occurrence. Medical had worked around the clock to create the equalizer that I now received regularly. Eventually, the seizures had occurred less often, but unfortunately, they haven’t ceased completely. Besides the convulsions and loss of bodily control, the episodes left me extremely tired and mostly bedridden for days afterwards.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.
And I see you’re up and walking pretty well,” she commented, gesturing to my dangling legs with her drink.

“Yeah, the physical therapy really helped.
It was slow going at first, but I’ve been walking on my own for a couple of months now.” The rehabilitation had helped, but it had also been torture.

“What’d you make of Dr. Wythe?” she asked with a knowing smile hovering over the rim of her cup.
Janet clearly thought as much of therapy as I did.

“He was okay, for a therapist.
He declared me ‘stable’, so that is a step towards me returning to active duty ...I think.” Actually, I wasn’t sure if a “stable” diagnosis was good enough for the placement committee, but since it was good enough for Mac, I was hopeful.

“It is,” Janet confirmed.
“Now we just need to find you a cure and you’ll be back with the Hunters in no time.”

“Yeah, I just hope that the Committee finds in my favor,” I replied, examining a small scrape in the leather chair with one fingernail.

“They will. Mac will make sure of it,” she promised. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully, meeting her earnest gaze.
Knowing that Janet was on my side made me slightly more optimistic. “The way I see it, Mac owes me after springing Donavon on me this morning,” I added.

Janet snorted.
“When he told me that he intended to bring you in on this spy hunt, I have to admit that I argued strongly against it. Given what happened between you and Donavon last year, I was worried that you might still be too fragile to handle it. If that’s true......” she let her voice trail off, the unspoken question hanging in the air. I didn’t need to hear her finish her sentence. Janet was offering to have Mac replace me – she was giving me an out.

“No, but thank you.
I know that I can’t avoid him forever. I was just caught off guard this morning.”

Part of me did want to take the easy way out and let her convince Mac that I wasn’t ready to work with Donavon.
But the proud part of me couldn’t let Donavon win. And if I had myself removed from this assignment, Donavon would win.

“For what it’s worth, he’s been torn up over what happened to you,” Janet said, eyeing me carefully for my reaction.

I arched one eyebrow in surprise and then drained the other half of my drink to cover my reaction. Donavon upset about what happened to me? Somehow I doubted that.

“How long has he been here?” I asked finally, extending my cup for Janet to refill its contents.

It was Janet’s turn to look surprised, her green eyes full of suspicion. “As long as you have,” she answered hesitantly. “Mac didn’t tell you that?”

What?
Why had Donavon been here for nine months? He was a Hunter. He should’ve been out on missions, not here doing ...whatever it was that he was doing. The knowledge that he’d been here this whole time without once attempting to see me was like a bucket of ice to the face. He really didn’t care about me. The confusion must have been evident in my expression because Janet continued without waiting for me to respond.

“Well, I guess that Mac thought it best you recover in peace,” Janet said hastily, refilling her empty glass.

“Why is he here?” I asked, scanning the older woman’s mind to find the truth. Janet had her thoughts guarded and I didn’t want to push.

“I think that Mac should be the one to tell you.”

Well, that’s ominous.

I spent the remainder of the day in Janet’s office, catching up on everything that had happened during my confinement.
She elaborated on what Mac had told me the previous night, about the covert investigation they’d launched to uncover who’d leaked my identity. Janet agreed that there was a traitor in our ranks. She agreed that my mission was targeted because I was sent directly in to Crane’s lair. However, unlike Mac, Janet wasn’t skilled at blocking me; I found in her mind what I assumed was in Mac’s.

Both felt that there was more to it than that.
They both believed that I’d been targeted, at least in part because of who I was and what my Talents were. I’d surmised as much even though Mac had been reluctant to share that detail with me.

Janet gently grilled me on my confrontation with Crane, hoping that I’d remember some detail that I’d been unable to recall when I made my official report.
I hated to disappoint her, but I couldn’t shed any more light on the situation. In nine months, I hadn’t been able to determine what I thought about Ian Crane’s insistence that he knew my father. I had no idea if that was true or just something that he’d said to through me off balance. If it was the latter, his plan had backfired. His claims about my father were what sent me over the edge, making me attack him.

Spending the day with Janet made me feel bad for losing touch with her during my Pledge year.
It also made me realize how much I craved human interaction. I’d always considered myself something of a loner. When I was younger and my parents were still alive, I spent most of my time with adults. My parents had kept me out of the public eye as much as possible. They had both known that I was different. Many people felt uncomfortable around me even though they had no idea what I was capable of. But it hadn’t really bothered me. I’d preferred the company of adults to that of children my own age, anyway, so it wasn’t until I came to school that I truly made friends.

Well, friends might even be an overstatement. I made exactly one friend:
Donavon. Donavon was the first person my own age that I’d ever connected with. We’d quickly become inseparable. I hadn’t yet mastered my Talents when I first formed a connection with Donavon. We stopped communicating with words when we were twelve. At first, we would sit next to each other, holding hands, having our own private conversations. The only outward sign that we were communicating would be when one or both of us wouldn’t be able to suppress a giggle. By the time we were thirteen, we didn’t even need to be touching to keep up a continuous dialogue. We were even able to carry on full discussions at night, each in our respective dorm rooms.

When Donavon had cheated on me, I’d felt like I lost half of my heart.
I didn’t realize how much I depended on him until he was no longer there. I hadn’t been able to actually break the connection we’d formed, but the absence of a soft song playing in my head before I went to bed, or a joke when I was called on to answer a question in class, were painful reminders of what I’d lost.

Now, after being forced into social isolation, I found that I was desperate to converse with people who weren’t ordered to evaluate me.
Sure, I knew that Janet was going to report anything that I said to Mac, but at least she was genuinely interested in how I was feeling and what happened to me in Nevada and didn’t view me as a number in a long list of patients.

The light-responsive windows behind Janet’s desk and the electric lights in her office slowly became brighter, marking the setting of the sun.
My stomach gave a rumble. I’d had three glasses of Janet’s liquor and no lunch. Suffice it to say, I was drunk.
Definitely
time for me to make my way to the cafeteria
, I decided. Sliding myself to the edge of the slippery leather chair, I stood, swaying slightly.

“One surprise before dinner!” exclaimed Janet.
Her cheeks were rosy from the liquor; she’d had also her fair share of the bottle.