Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) (7 page)

“
This one’s not right in
the head,” she said to her friends and laughed harder. Facing me
again, she continued, “Is that it, are you daft?”

I sucked in a deep breath and turned to
leave. No matter how I felt about Talia, Erik had spared my life
and my freedom that night. At the very least, he should have taken
me prisoner. But he had not. No way was I throwing away that
freedom over a stupid, drunk, girl with too much attitude and too
few clothes.

“
Go back to the rubbish
pile you crawled out of,” the girl called to my back.

“
Shove off, you mongrel,” a
second female voice added. “Nighttime is for us round
here.”

My nails bit into my palms, the pain helping
to fight the mounting rage. Still, I really wanted to hit
something.

Pleasant thoughts, Kenly.
Think pleasant thoughts
.

Digging deep, I conjured an image of my
mother at the holidays. It had been just the two of us since my
father died on a mission with the Hunters. We always spent the
first days of my school vacations eating all of my favorite foods
and shopping at my favorite D.C. stores. We’d watch old movies on
the wallscreen and I’d tell her about my classes. Mom wasn’t
Talented, but dad had been, and mom loved hearing about my training
and lessons. She was proud of me. She’d been the one to suggest I
try out for the Hunters even though my telekinetic powers were
weak.

Not anymore, I thought wryly. My telekinetic
powers were now Elite level. Maybe even higher, if that was
possible.

“
Heya, wait! Don’t I know
you?” The boy’s voice was deep and barely carried over the loud
conversations of the others on the street. Somehow, I felt certain
he was talking to me.

Keep
moving
.
But do not
run. He’s probably mistaken. Not a UNITED agent.

That last part I repeated over and over
again, as if the repetition would make the words true. Curiosity
got the better of me and, ignoring my own advice, I glanced
discreetly over my shoulder. Being taller than the average girl, I
was able to see over the crowd without straining. His eyes were
more caramel than the bright gold they’d appeared earlier in the
night.

Recognition sparked in them when our gazes
locked, undoubtedly mirrored in my own eyes. I made a quick
assessment. No overt signs of power. Muscular but too slim for a
trained fighter. His wool coat was too heavy for the weather—was it
hiding a weapon? No bulges or mysterious lumps. Unlikely he was
armed. Posture relaxed. No scrutiny in his stare. Communicator on
his belt, but he made no move to reach for it. I scanned a ten foot
perimeter surrounding him. No other eyes watching me. Rooftops?
Empty. Definitely not a UNITED agent.

The knowledge that he was not there to haul
me off to some government facility for containment dimmed my
unease. Still, I was in no mood for a friendly chat. I was angry,
cold, and starving. I kept walking, picking up the pace with the
hope that he would take the hint and leave me alone.

Luck and fate and whatever else seemed to be
conspiring against me tonight. The boy followed me. Shouts of,
“Excuse me”, “Pardon me”, and “That’s my girlfriend you just hit!”
rang out from the crowded sidewalk. I glanced back once again and
saw the boy shoving his way through the mass of people.

Leave me alone,
I thought and darted between a young couple
holding hands, forcing the lovebirds to break contact.

“
Wait!” I heard the boy
call after me.

“’
Ey, watch it!” the female
half of the couple snapped.

“
Sorry,” I called over my
shoulder, but didn’t pause.
Keep moving.
Keep moving.
My eyes nervously searched for
an escape route, outlets from Fleet Street or breaks in the
buildings. My mind processed all the possible exit
strategies.
Invisibility? No, too weak,
don’t have the energy to expend. Too many witnesses to see me
blinking in and out. Hovercab? Can’t afford to waste the money.
Alleyways? There’s one just ahead. Bingo.

Most of the alleys led all the way through
to the parallel streets. That was my best option. The boy pursuing
me was wealthy. Clearly looking for a thrill by going out in this
seedy neighborhood. He wouldn’t dare follow me once I was off the
beaten path.

Tiber Street loomed ahead, another main
thoroughfare. I made a quick left and spotted a black space between
short, squat buildings, halfway down on the other side of the road.
If I was correct, the passage would put me out on Hereford Ave.
Only the four lanes of Tiber stood between me and the possible
refuge.

“
Yes, yes, yes,” I muttered
under my breath.

Four wide, frenzied, and very busy lanes.
Road buses were heading in both directions. Hovercabs dipped down
between the buildings to drop off their charges and collect new
fares. Ground taxis offering cheaper transport veered through the
lanes, screeching to a halt alongside the curb without warning.
Road cars sped and swerved among the other vehicles, primarily
driven by kids who couldn’t afford hovercars. With few exceptions,
all of the vehicles seemed to be driving imprudently fast on the
crowded road, slick with rain. The incessant beeping of horns
filled the air, a cacophony of different pitches and lengths adding
to the noise and chaos.

Before entering the pandemonium, I peeked
over my shoulder to see whether my mystery boy was still in
pursuit. The misty sprinkle from earlier was now actual rain. His
golden hair was darker now that it was wet, but he was still easy
to spot in the crowd. He was also still following. Inexplicably
relentless, that one.

“
I just want to talk!” he
called when he noticed me looking.

The boy was closing the gap between us. I
swore, and considered turning on full-speed to lose the tail. Even
before I’d received the latest injection of the Creation drug, I
was faster than the average person. All of the running that I’d
done with Talia, and then with Donavon, in preparation for my
Hunters’ tryout had contributed to my superior endurance. But with
the Creation drug…I was now faster than Olympic gold medalists.
Unfortunately, a teenage girl moving so fast that people would only
see a blur might draw unwanted attention. Especially tearing down
one of the busiest streets in the Slums.

Breathing deeply, I kicked my pace up a
notch, consciously keeping it below an unnatural speed. I wove
between the racing vehicles in the first two lanes. Though it meant
traversing through more traffic, I ran diagonally across the road,
heading towards the alleyway. Hopefully he wouldn’t have the guts
to follow my path, and I’d lose my tail.

Just before I reached the median, horns
blared and cabbies shouted out the car windows. I spared the
quickest of glances behind me, confused because they seemed delayed
from my trek. I was right. The honking wasn’t at me. The damned kid
had followed me into traffic. Except, he wasn’t as adept at dodging
vehicles. Tires screeched and the smell of burnt rubber filled the
air. My new friend might not have been UNITED, but he wanted to
talk to me pretty badly if he was risking his life to do so.

I couldn’t help myself.
Pausing on the narrow concrete barrier dividing the rushing
traffic, I looked back again to make sure he was okay.
Shit.
He was more than
okay. The cab had stopped short of actually hitting him. In fact,
it’d barely broken his stride. Even with my extra speed, he was
still on my heels and closing the gap. Time to head into the other
side of traffic.

This isn’t working, Kenly!
New strategy, you need to come up with a new strategy!
I mentally coached myself.

Without slowing, I
instantly analyzed the situation. Unlike me, Golden Hair Guy was
panting and sweating, but it wasn’t yet affecting his pace.
Attempts at losing him weren’t working, either. Maybe if I just
kept running, he would ultimately wear himself out. My cardio
trainer at school liked to remind us that until just a few hundred
years ago, people used to run extreme distances—over 25
miles—for
fun
. It
sounded like the opposite of fun at the time, and it still did now.
But remaining alive and free was worth any distance I had to
cover.

I’ll slow down as he does,
and then just keep going. He’s probably not Talented, or he’d
almost certainly have shown it by now. Eventually, he’ll have to
give up,
I decided.

A road bus barreled down the center of
Tiber, swerving to avoid slower moving vehicles. Jolting out of my
mental analysis, I again focused on the physical pursuit aversion.
When the bus was mere feet away, I leapt forward, directly in front
of its path.

The driver didn’t even have a chance to honk
his alert horn. The warmth radiating from the front of the bus
encompassed me instantaneously. The hairs on my arm stood up in the
whoosh of air, and I swear I felt them brush along the heated
metal. The bus passed behind me, just barely avoiding a fatal
wreck. But the tactic worked. My purser wasn’t fast enough this
time. Using the bus as a shield, I darted onto the sidewalk and
into the alley. He didn’t have a prayer of seeing where I’d
disappeared to.

The darkness welcomed me
like an old friend. I wasn’t winded exactly, but felt the need to
take a minute and regroup. That had been a close call. The second
of the day, after what happened at the Giraffe. The third, if you
counted the run-in with the bitchy blonde and her snotty friends.
That was too frequent for a week or a month. Having that many in a
single
day…
.

I wasn’t focused enough. I
wasn’t thinking enough.
Using my powers in
public earlier had been so asinine. Despite all of my earlier
efforts, I’d been noticed. Noticed enough to be chased. If the
golden-haired boy had been an agent with UNITED, there was no
question he would have caught me.

I pressed my back to the cold, wet stone of
one of the buildings in the alley and blew out a long, frustrated
breath. Tonight I’d gotten lucky. But depending on luck was no way
to survive. I needed to be smart. Years of training on how to use
my Higher Reasoning had taught me better than this. Slipping up,
losing control, and flickering in front of a roomful of people?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Allowing my head to fall back, I rested it
against the wall. The hood of my sweatshirt slid down and exposed
my upturned face to the rain. The cold water felt refreshing,
cleansing even. The girl’s comments about smelling homeless came
back to me. I hated to admit it, but she was probably right. The
clothes I was wearing weren’t even fit for fire kindling. The
Hideaway had showers, but no laundry machines. In a feeble attempt
to be hygienic, I’d been washing my clothes in the sink with hand
soap. Regrettably, my efforts did little more than mask unpleasant
smells with an intensely pungent floral scent.

Opening my mouth, cold water wash over my
tongue. People said the rainwater was contaminated, just like the
oceans and rivers, but I didn’t believe that. It tasted crisp and
clean and amazing. Besides, what did it matter if the water was
contaminated? I was a byproduct of contamination. If the water was
contaminated, in theory, drinking it would only make me stronger.
As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win scenario.

With my eyes closed, I
rested my head against the wall again and tilted it up. The cool
drops swam down my cheeks. In that moment, I felt peace. Like the
world was good, worth fighting for. And I felt strong. Like I could
conquer anything. Everything.
You get one
more minute of enjoying this, and then you have to take off.
At least my mind was giving me a slight
reprieve.

I inhaled deeply, concentrating to amplify
and isolate my favorite smell in the world—the fresh scent of
purifying rain. Without warning, another aroma breezed by. This one
was impossible to ignore. Above the stench of moldy cheese,
spoiling- fish, emptied ashtrays, and flat beer, there was the
faint scent of trees and grass and wet leaves. The best top note
possible, right along with the worst odor imaginable. My stomach
clenched. The scent grew stronger. His smell reminded me of the
guys at school, just after they’d come in from a run in the
woods.

After I seemingly disappeared from the
middle of the road, I was clueless as to how he possibly found me.
And yet he had.

I was so screwed.

“
You’re bloody fast, aren’t
you? A proper athlete,” he panted.

With my eyes still closed, face still
upturned to the water falling from the sky, I pictured him. He’d be
standing in the entrance to the alley, hands on the knees of his
dark wool pants as he worked to regain his breath. The scarf around
his neck would have come loose in the chase.

“
You’re
impossibly
fast, do you know that?”
he appended his question in my silence.

I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. I
should have run. But I didn’t.

Instead, I smiled and said, “And you give
good chase.”

I was ten feet from where he stood, the
shadows swallowing me so I appeared as little more than a
silhouette to his untrained eyes. At least that was how I imagined
I looked to him. Debating turning invisible, I wondered if he’d
convince himself that it was just a trick of light or his eyes
deceiving him. Unfortunately, he’d already seen me do that once at
the Giraffe. If he’d dismissed it then, he wasn’t likely to
again.