Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) (9 page)

Even if they’re trying to
lull you into a false sense of security, you have the upper hand.
No big deal. You can take them. They’re only Talented. You’re
Created,
I told myself.

We were now getting away from the heart of
London nightlife, only a block or two from Tug’s pub. It was well
past midnight and the sidewalks were nearly empty. Few vehicles
traveled the darkened streets. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. In
a practically deserted area, in the middle of the night, I was
alone with—and surrounded by, no less—four total strangers. At
least three of whom were Talented, and all of whom seemed primed
for a fight.

Really, Kenly? Is there no end to your
stupidity tonight?

“
Riley.” James said the
other boy’s name sharply, like a warning.

“
I see them,” Riley said
quietly. The circle of bodies around me inexplicably tightened. My
earlier concern quickly turned to irritation.

“
What’s going on?” I
demanded. “I can barely breathe with you guys on top of me like
this.”

“
Quiet,” James
snapped.

Furious at being shushed like a child, I
whirled around to face James. Well, I tried to, at least. Willa’s
hand on my arm stopped me.

“
Look, over there,” she
whispered, discreetly motioning with her chin towards a spot
several yards ahead on the right.

Oh.

Three figures leaned against a boarded up
storefront. In the darkness, it was hard to determine age or
gender. But the long cylindrical objects they held were
unmistakably weapons. Adrenaline began to pump in my veins as my
body readied for an attack.

“
Let’s turn back and take
Prince Street,” Honora softly suggested.

“
I reckon that’s not
necessary. We outnumber them,” Riley said, shaking his head
dismissively. “But let’s cross over the road. Monroe satisfied my
daily arsehole quota, no need for a run-in with these wankers.” He
veered off of the sidewalk and into the street, the rest of us
following close on his heels.

“
Do you know them?” I asked
the group, shooting furtive glances over my shoulder at the street
thugs. I felt them watching us from beneath their dark hooded
sweatshirts.

“
We know their sort,” James
said evasively.

“
What sort is
that?”

“
The dodgy sort, that’s
better to avoid,” Willa said and looped her arm through mine to
keep me moving forward.

I inwardly groaned. It had been work the
past couple weeks to deduced meaning from the nonsensical British
slang. At least dodgy was an easy one; I’d figured it out in my
first days here.

As we approached Tug’s bar, I thought about
the language barriers I hadn’t considered before coming here. I’d
thought English was English. Silly me. The last thing I wanted to
do over here was ask for meanings. Derisive snickering wouldn’t be
so bad. It was broadcasting that I hadn’t been there very long that
I was worried about. The timeline couldn’t be avoided; I’d been
here the same number of weeks that it’d been since the battle in
DC. To anyone with an ounce of deductive reasoning, that fact,
combined with my Talented status would lead to the obvious
conclusion: I was TOXIC; I was Created; I was wanted by UNITED. I
shuddered, envisioning the number of people who would line up at
UNITED’s doors to provide information regarding my whereabouts in
exchange for the outrageous reward the organization was offering
for the same.

The Flying Giraffe was crowded with
late-night patrons. The effect of so many damp people in a small
space made the air inside soupy and smell like wet dog. Tug was
behind the bar pouring drinks, while a man I’d seen once or
twice—maybe Willa’s cousin?—waited tables. Since Willa was with us,
I had no idea who was cooking the food.

Riley chose a four-top table in the corner,
the same one I’d been sitting at earlier. He took a chair next to
the wall and James sat opposite him. Willa snagged the seat next to
Riley, while Honora grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and
placed it at the end of ours. This left me sitting next to the
perpetually pissed off James.

Awesome. Lucky me.

Willa set her raincoat on the back of her
chair to dry and muttered something about hot drinks. Since the
drying racks had been put away to make room for more patrons, I
followed her lead. After removing my dripping sweatshirt, I
carefully spread it across the seat back. Underneath, I wore a
tight black tank top. It was baggy when I’d put it on, but was now
soaking wet and clung like a second skin. James stared straight
ahead at Riley, pointedly avoiding the sight of my bare, pale
arms.

Alone with the strangers, I performed yet
another threat assessment. I’d analyzed the situation at least four
times on the walk over, but data kept streaming in. Plus, I was
anxious and out of my element, and the mental distraction kept me
from freaking out.

“
So, Miss America, I reckon
you have the gift of invisibility,” Riley said, grinning like a
fool. Somehow, despite the downpour, his spikes were still intact.
I wondered whether they were related to his Talent. Maybe he was a
Morpher who preferred changing into a porcupine, and was always in
a state of partial morph.

“
Miss America?” I
asked.

“
Don’t like the nickname?
Tell us your real one then,” Riley said.

“
Her name’s Kenly. You know
that,” James grunted.

James was the dark to Riley’s light. Where
Riley’s skin was smooth and pale and clearly unacquainted with the
sun, James was tanned and weathered like he spent a lot of time
outdoors. Riley radiated warmth, and was comfortably engaging.
James was cold and uninviting. They were an odd pair. I wondered
how Honora and Willa fit into the mix.

“
I like Miss America
better,” Honora said. She seemed to be in a constant state of
serenity, so it was hard to tell if she was serious.

Willa returned with a tray of steaming mugs.
Her waitressing behaviors were evidently engrained, as she placed
one in front of each of us before taking her seat. “Granddad’s
bringing out the stew when he gets a chance. What’d I miss?”

“
Miss America was just
telling us about her Chrome,” Riley told her, sipping his
tea.

“
Kenly,” I said firmly. “My
name is Kenly.” I paused, frowning. After seconds of whirring brain
activity, I hit a brick wall at the word ‘Chrome.’ A quick search
of my memory bank and I was still confused as to the term’s
meaning. Sighing, I decided a straight forward approach was best,
even if it meant exposing my ignorance. “What’s a
Chrome?”

“
Talent,” Willa said
softly. “You call them Talents. So do most people. But here in the
Slums, we say Chrome. Yours is invisibility, is it? Mine’s viewing.
Which is–”

“
I know what viewing is,” I
said cutting her off. We were getting off topic. As surprising as
it was that Willa was Talented, I didn’t much care about her
specific gifts at the moment. I wanted to know about Lord Monroe
and why this group loathed and feared him. Because they did fear
him. None of them would have admitted it, but I’d seen it in their
eyes in the alleyway. Even hard-ass James.

“
We call it viewing, too,”
I added, noting Willa’s hurt expression. “Is that how you found me
tonight?”

Willa sipped her tea and nodded. I wrapped
my hands around my own mug for warmth, but didn’t drink.

“
How long have you been
following me?” I asked, positive that I wouldn’t like the
answer.

A flush crept up Willa’s cheeks, just barely
noticeable beneath her dark skin.

“
Oh, well, you know, since
that first night you stopped in,” she admitted.

“
Seriously?
” I exclaimed loudly. At
the next table over, an older man turned his head in our direction
and cocked an inquisitive brow. I shot him a mind-your-own-business
glare.

“
Why
?” I demanded. Though careful to keep my volume low this time,
there was still venom in that word. I was infuriated. So much for
keeping under the radar.

“
Granddad was worried about
you. Chromes—sorry, I mean Talents—on their own in these parts
don’t last long. And you being…” Willa paused as if searching for
the right word, “…foreign. Well, you can’t possibly fathom the
danger you’re in.”

I laughed bitterly.
I
didn’t understand the
danger I was in? Seriously? I was well aware just how precarious my
hold on freedom was. That danger was why I spent ninety-nine
percent of my day looking over my shoulder. It was why I slept with
one eye open. It was the reason I’d come to London in the first
place.

“
I may be young, but I’m
not naïve,” I said calmly.

“
You saying that only
proves how naïve you really are,” James grunted.

I stared at him slack jawed.

“
Life’s different over
here, Kenly. Our government doesn’t protect us the way yours…did.
We aren’t treated like heroes. We’re second-class citizens,” James
continued.

The way yours
did
. His use of the past
tense wasn’t lost on me. The reminder that TOXIC was gone, that I
was truly alone in the world, stung. One look at James’s hard
platinum gaze, and I understood. That had been his
intention.

What a
jackass
, I thought.

Several seconds of tense silence followed.
Honora was staring into her mug, watching as the steaming liquid
swirled around and around like a tiny whirlpool. Riley and Willa
seemed to be having a private conversation with their eyes, which I
found particularly annoying. And James stared off into space as if
a million miles away. Right then, I longed to be a million miles
away, too.

Finally, Riley announced, “I’m an
Electrician,” even though no one had asked. “And a shifter.”

That caught me off guard
and I temporarily forgot my frustration with James. “You’re
a
dual
Talent?
Err, Chrome?” I asked, surprised. “That’s rare.”

“
Not on our island,” he
replied. “Lots of us double threats walking around the
Slums.”

Now I was curious about their Talents. At
school I’d been something of an oddity for having two gifts. Only
one or two other dual Talents were in my year. Both of them, like
me, had been considerably stronger in one area, with the other just
barely usable.

“
And Honora, you’re a
telekinetic?” I asked.

“
Guilty.” She smiled.
“How’d you know?”

“
You were stirring your tea
earlier without any hands. Same as you’re doing now. Are you dual
as well?”

“
Nah. Just Telekinesis. I’m
a bit boring, I suppose.” Honora shrugged
self-consciously.

“
You’re right perceptive,
it would take a keen eye to notice something so small,” Riley said
to me, admiringly.

Both Willa and Honora also looked impressed
by my powers of observation. James was the only one who wasn’t. He
appeared bored, as if this conversation was beneath him. He
confirmed as much after looking at the rest of them with
disgust.

“
Enough of this bollocks.
Kenly, tell us what you were doing with Jaylen Monroe,” he snapped.
The words came out clipped, and angry. Surprised, I found myself
leaning away from him.

Riley shot James a warning glance.

“
I wasn’t doing anything
with him,” I said, defensive. I straightened my spine, refusing to
let James intimidate me. “I ran into him and I guess some of his
friends—”

“
His mates? Which ones?”
Riley demanded.

“
I don’t know. Some girls,”
I answered. “His sister and her friends, maybe?”

“
Gah, Libby,” Honora and
Willa groaned in unison.

“
Yeah, that’s her name.
Libby,” I agreed, recalling that Monroe had called her that.
“Anyway, I ran into them. Well, not so much them. I bumped into
her. Libby was a royal bitch, and I took off so I wouldn’t hit her.
Monroe followed me. I noticed the tail and tried to lose him, but
couldn’t. He’s really fast. I ducked into that alley, hoping he
wouldn’t see me. Of course, he did. And that’s when you guys showed
up.” I paused and took a deep breath. “Wait. Shouldn’t you know
this already, Willa? Weren’t you viewing me?”

All eyes turned on Willa.

“
My Chrome doesn’t work
quite like that. I can track people, but I can’t always see them.
Just sort of feel them, you know? I felt your heartbeat pickup when
you became scared. That’s when we came looking for you.”

Interesting. So viewing wasn’t exactly the
same on this side of the pond. And yet, I’d snapped at her and told
her I knew what it was. Great.

“
What did Libby do when
Jaylen pursued you?” Riley asked.

I shrugged. “No clue.”

A look passed between Riley and James.

“
What?” I demanded. It was
annoying that I was answering all of their questions, but had yet
to get any information out of them. My patience was wearing
thin.

“
The twins, Libby and
Jaylen Monroe, they usually work cooperatively, is all,” Willa said
uneasily.

“
Work? Are they like con
artists or something? Thieves?” I asked.

James’s laugh was brittle. “You could right
well call them that.” He paused, lips twisting into an ugly sneer.
“We call them Poachers.”