Faceless (2 page)

More pounding. Each blow echoed inside my head like a gong and made the entire world quake. All the asshole had to do was turn the knob since I hadn’t bothered to lock the door when I came in. If he banged one more time, I was getting up and cramming my boot down his throat sideways.

The voice came again, this time angrier. “Feltch saw you come in. Open up.”

A watery face danced on the edge of my mind. Henson… Hendrick…
Henley
! The guy’s name was Henley—and he wasn’t going away. I forced myself off the bed, careful not to topple forward when the room tipped drastically to the left. I took two steps and tripped over something—I couldn’t see what—nearly face-planting, and managed to drag myself off the floor in time for the yelling to start again.

“You’ve got five seconds,” the voice on the other side of the door spat. “Then I’m knocking it down and busting you up.”

I stumbled the rest of the way and ripped open the door, wanting nothing more than to bash this guy’s face in. It wasn’t immediately clear who Henley was, but I did know he and Cain were
not
buds.

Bright light spilled into the room, making my eyes water. When my vision cleared, I saw a tall guy maybe a year or so older than me with broad shoulders and an angry scowl. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Light gray eyes glared at me from under a mop of longish, dark brown hair. He was taller than Cain—me—by several inches, and had a stubby goatee. “They want you in the rec room. Now.”

“What for?” I growled. Each word I spoke was like a saw blade to the brain and I had to brace myself against either side of the doorway to keep from keeling forward. Every sound sent a world-quaking vibration through my body, and if this moron wasn’t careful, I was going to puke on him.

Henley flashed a satisfied smile and crossed his arms as he leaned back against the doorframe. Confidant and casual. This wasn’t the type of guy who intimidated easily. “I told you yesterday. I speak, you jump. No questions.”

No questions
…

A conversation he and Cain had earlier bounced around in my mind, but things were too vague. Bits and broken pieces were all I could catch, and none of them made any sense.

“Well?” he snapped. The guy oozed confidence and an over-inflated sense of entitlement. Even if Cain didn’t want to grind his face into powder, I’d have wanted to hit him. He drew himself up tall so that he was looking down, eyes traveling over me with an air of superiority. In short, he was a dick. The dick in charge.

No… Not in charge.

Kind of like a lieutenant. An older man’s face—faint wrinkles and a head of thick, salt and pepper hair—formed in my mind.
This
was the man in charge. James Anderson—and Henley was his personal Butt Monkey.

And he had it in for me.

Chapter Two

Henley went on ahead of me, which turned out to be a good thing. Getting to the rec room was significantly harder than finding my room. Cain had only been there a few times—he didn’t like to socialize—and apparently he’d been high at the time. That was before Anderson found his stash and confiscated it. Things were coming to me in broken fragments, but one thing was crystal clear. Cain liked his recreational substances.

When I arrived, I found a large white room with a small group of people gathered at the center. Five girls, four guys, and a tall older man. Everyone except the man, Henley, and I, were in their pajamas and looked half asleep. Several of them were yawning, while the rest stood, eyes half-lidded and expressions unhappy. I could sympathize. The need to rest and recover from the jump burned in my veins, but more than that, I wanted to speak with Ginger. Being at Zendean and not knowing
why
was annoying—not to mention pointless. Every minute I didn’t know the plan was another minute I wasn’t actively working toward helping Dez.

A swirl of vaguely familiar names and faces rattled around inside my brain, making the headache ten times worse. I swayed on my feet and swallowed back a mouthful of whatever Cain had eaten earlier—something spicy with a distinct hint of garlic. Taking a header and puking on these people was sure to grab me the kind of attention I was trying to avoid.

My name is Brandt Cross, and when I was fourteen, I puked on myself while trying to give an oral report on George Washington…

“Nice of you to join us, Cain,” the man at the center said. He was tall with a crooked nose and reminded me of my uncle Marshal. Not so much physically, but the look in his eyes. There was just something
wrong
about it. Something bad. This was the man from Cain’s memory—James Anderson.

“I was—”

“He was at Skinners,” Henley supplied helpfully. “The girly bar downtown.” He turned to me and snickered. “Poor bastard has to pay for it. Is that how they do it back home?”

“Aww, you don’t need to pay for it, Dougie,” a girl from the outer edge of the group purred. She stepped forward and puffed out her chest, hands splayed against her hips, and I couldn’t help staring. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and the thin white material of her T-shirt was borderline see through. “I’d be more than happy to—”

“Jesus, Carina. Is there any place you
haven’t
shoved your tongue?” The snipe came from a girl whose face I couldn’t see. She was shorter than the rest of the crowd, standing on the other side of Anderson. The only part of her that was visible was the top of her chestnut colored hair, and the tiny purple mice that decorated the toes of her socks. “I mean, are you trying for a world record in VD?”

Carina snorted and winked at me before whirling in the other direction. “We can’t all be frigid, virginal bitches, can we?”

Boss-man cleared his throat. “Settle down. We’re here to do drills, not trade insults.”

Drills. That was vaguely familiar. Cain had been doing them with the group since he’d first arrived. Anderson paired everyone off based on ability, and had us practice on each other. The drills weren’t scheduled, and Anderson liked to pull us out of bed in the middle of the night to keep us on our toes. There’d been a speech when Cain first arrived. Something about dealing with unpleasant circumstances and respecting authority. Also something about discipline… I couldn’t remember it all—probably because Cain had tuned most of it out.

“We’re going to do the pairing a little differently tonight. Teams are as follows…” He rattled off a list of names, and when he came to mine, he said, “Cain, you’re with Devin.”

He stepped aside to reveal Devin—the outspoken brunette with the mice on her toes who, apparently, wasn’t the least bit happy about the situation. “Are you
serious
? Mr. Grabby hands?”

Grabby hands?

I took a step toward her and a rush of images flooded my mind. Cain’s first day here. Several abrasive comments. Roaming hands and warm flesh. A hard slap to the face. Heat rose in my cheeks and a wave of heat hit like a brick to the balls, stopping me dead. “I grabbed your—”

She held up a hand, scowling. “Don’t even. Let’s just get through this and be done with it.” Jerking her head to the right, she headed into the far corner of the room without another word.

I followed, trying hard to sift through the sludge that was Cain’s memory. It would have been helpful to know what her ability was, but I was coming up blank. Random pictures and pieces of conversation—none of it the least bit relevant to my current situation. A conversation with a short blond guy about racing, Carina and Cain getting
friendly
behind the building, Cain’s arrival—walking down the main hallway as the others lined up to watch. The harder I tried to focus, the sicker I felt.

I was going to have to wing it.

My name is Brandt Cross, and my father told me once that the ability to adapt was the key to survival…

Devin folded her arms and leaned against the wall—as far away from me as possible. “Okay. Explain how your ability works. Something to do with barging into people’s minds and taking away their free will, right?”

She wanted me to explain how Cain’s ability worked? Fantastic. I didn’t understand the mechanics of it myself.

Ginger arranged this whole thing. She’d used her contacts to find this place, then somehow—I didn’t want to know the details—got a hold of a list of newish recruits. She picked the one that had the most useful ability, and sent me to step in. Personally, I found the whole set-up a little cold. Technically, she’d asked me to kill someone without even blinking an eye. The old woman had a detached way of approaching delicate situations that almost made it seem like she didn’t care.

I was in a unique position since I could technically be anyone. It made me a powerful asset—one the old woman had used without a hesitation. I’d done things for her since my untimely demise… Things that ranged from questionable to downright horrific—all because I’d seen firsthand the lengths Denazen was willing to go to get what they wanted.

But even I had a line. Murder? I was more of a pacifist. Live and let live used to be my motto. And while I didn’t regret doing it, the memory of Dez’s dream a constant, haunting reel of film playing on repeat inside my head, I still hated myself. Cain had been a bastard, but who was I to play judge, jury, and executioner?

“Well?” Devin prodded. The way she tilted her head, arms folded and eyes narrowed, she reminded me a little of Dez. Strong, stubborn—and impatient.

“Why don’t we work on yours instead?” Devin wasn’t exactly right, but she’d come close. Cain’s ability allowed him to make people do what he wanted. Still too fresh from the jump, I couldn’t even get a handle on simple bodily functions. No way was I messing with an ability like that. The damage potential was too high.

For a moment, she just watched me. From the set of her jaw to the ridged line of her shoulders, everything about her posture screamed one thing. Fear. She was afraid of me.
Of Cain
. A solid lump formed in my throat as I wracked my brain, searching for memories containing interaction between Devin and Cain. All I could come up with was the one time they’d interacted and Cain had gotten grabby. Slightly relieved, I let out a deep breath.

Green eyes narrow and lips mashed thin, she finally nodded. “Fine. Stay here and let me grab a laptop from the den.”

She strode from the room. With her temporarily out of the way, I had the chance to look around. The walls were bleach white and most of the furniture looked brand new. There was a scent in the air—it reminded me of the way our house smelled after Mom had the flooring company come in and carpet the entire house in hideous lavender. I’d sneezed nonstop for a month.

Scattered around the outer edges of the room were four groups of two, with Anderson watching from the doorway like a king surveying his court. They were all vaguely familiar in an odd, detached way, and it made my head hurt trying to put names with faces. Remnants of conversations and a mash-up of voices and images mixed with the here and now made me almost wish I’d bitten the big one instead of Cain.

The two girls in the corner across from me—a cute Korean chick paired with Carina—were sitting knee to knee with their eyes closed. Every once in awhile Carina’s lips would move and the Korean girl would flinch, skin paling slightly and knuckles going white. Carina found this amusing. With each tremor that ran through the other girl, her lips curled upward with a satisfied smile.

Behind the girls, two guys stood, hands clasped bro-style. I couldn’t figure out what they were doing, but the smaller of the two, a younger boy with thick glasses and a serious acne issue, seemed to be having a hard time breathing.

To their right, Henley stood next to Anderson. They were talking quietly off to the side. The animosity between him and Cain was watery, but powerful. To say they hated each other would be like saying Tony Hawk was simply
cool
. Each time I looked at him, an overwhelming feeling of rage bubbled in my gut.

My name is Brandt Cross, and I can still remember a time when I didn’t hate anyone…

Henley looked up and caught my eye. For a second I thought he might storm over, but he got distracted by Devin as she walked past carrying a laptop. He let out a sharp whistle and slapped her hard on the ass. The sound echoed through the room and everyone froze—yet no one made a move to intervene or say a word.

The Cain part of my brain laughed with appreciation, while the Sheltie part wanted to hang back and simply observe. Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you saw it—the Brandt part won out.

I broke the heavy silence that fell over the room, stalked forward, crossing the distance in three long strides, and shoved Henley back against the wall. “What the hell, man?”

He answered my question not with words, but blows, throwing his weight forward and swinging hard for my jaw. Devin had barely enough time to jump out of the way before we crashed to the ground at her feet, rolling sideways as fists began to fly.

I’d seen my fair share of scuffles. And even though I preferred a milder approach to volatile situations—Dez was the badass, not me—I could still throw down with the best of them. My father made sure I could take a hit—and throw one.

Henley landed a blow to my gut, making my eyes water, while I got him good across the jaw, pulling a string of creative curses from his lips. I wasn’t the kind of guy to fly off the handle, but once I got started, it was a downward glide on brand new wheels. Add to that Cain’s hate for Henley, and it exploded into something I had little control over.

Getting to his feet, Henley staggered back and doubled over, holding a hand to his face to catch the blood trickling from his nose. I followed, bringing my right knee up hard into his gut. The breath whooshed from his lungs and he tripped back, landing on the floor. I was on him in a second. My knuckles twitched as they made contact with his jaw again, and then next with the side of his nose.

“I’m going to suck every last thought from that tiny little brain,” Henley growled.

I had no idea what he meant, and I didn’t care. In that moment, all that mattered was beating him to a bloody pulp. A tiny flicker of thought twitched in the back of my mind. This wasn’t me. It was Cain. I’d learned the hard way when I’d jumped—or got forced—into Sheltie, that the previous owner’s personality never goes away. I needed to control it—not let it control me. Unfortunately, still too fresh from the jump, that was impossible at the moment.

When two of the guys finally pulled us apart, one of Cain’s memories surged to the surface with sickening vividness. Henley liked to call himself a
Zombie Leech
. His ability allowed him to dive into your mind and take your thoughts. Everything inside your head—all the memories and knowledge—everything you ever said or did. The catch? It only worked at the moment of death.

I jerked hard against the arms restraining me. Whoever was behind me cursed and tightened their grip. “Go ahead and try, asshole.”

“This is the last time I’m going to warn you two,” Andersen said, stepping between us. “
Knock it off
.” He spread his arms and jerked his head hard to the right. Lips thin and eyes narrow, he growled, “Everyone back to business.
Now
.”

I pulled free and turned to the corner where Devin stood, waiting. “What the hell was that all about?” she spat in a low voice. I couldn’t tell if she was seriously tweaked, or impressed over my stellar display of manliness. It might have been an even mix of the two.

“Things like that set me off,” I said with a shrug, and proceeded to lean against the wall. A quick scan of the room told me everyone else had gone back to minding their own business as Andersen commanded. Had to give the guy props. He knew how to roll up a room.

Devin set the computer down, eyes growing wider than before. Her cheeks flushed, and I noticed the small, light blue vein visible just above her right eye seemed to throb a little. If the girl wasn’t careful, she was going to give herself a coronary. “
Things like that set you off
? You did the
exact
same thing to me a week ago!”

She was trying to be quiet, while at the same time convey severe irritation over my actions. I kind of loved the way it made her voice squeak. It also made me notice little things about her. It was a nice package—despite the stupid socks. She had vivid green eyes and soft looking, full lips. I found myself wondering what they’d taste like. Something fruity? Strawberries maybe? My gaze drifted lower and caught on her chest. Scratch the nice package. She was a
Birdhouse
board with
Black 6 tech
and custom airbrushed wheels.

“Great,” she snapped. “And now you’re staring at my boobs. You’re a piece of work, Cain. First, you’re all grabby, then you slip into Mr. Chivalrous mode. Now you’re playing the perv card? There’s something wrong with the wiring in your brain.”

I almost laughed. She didn’t know the half of it.