《Talented》


 The One wth the Bombs

    An earsplitting wail punctured the silent night, shattering the illusions of my dream world and bringing me back to reality. My eyes popped open and I became instantly alert to a sound reverberating through the dark cabin. I bolted upright in my bed. Terror seized me. I knew that noise. In school, I had done monthly drills in response to that noise. Emphasis being they were drills. There had never been a real incident when the sirens had to be used and I¡¯d hoped it would never be necessary. Even now, as the sirens blared through the speakers in the clearing outside of my cabin, I prayed it was just another drill.


    I could only see the parts of my room illuminated by the ribbons of artificial light streaming through the wooden blinds. Hastily, I threw the blanket back as my eyes darted around the cabin. The other two beds were empty. Crap. Henri and Erik, my cabin mates, must have heard the invasion sirens and run out immediately. How had I slept through that? Why didn¡¯t they wake me up? Assholes.


    I didn¡¯t waste time putting on real clothes, or even shoes. I flung the cabin door open with my mind before I was fully out of my bed, and ran into the night; pajamas, bare feet, and all. I sprinted straight into the center of Hunters Village and stopped abruptly. For all the training drills I¡¯d taken part in at school, there had yet to be a single drill since my arrival at Elite Headquarters two weeks ago. I had no idea where I was supposed to go, or what I was supposed to do. Breathe, Talia, I reminded myself. Just breathe.


    The night air was unseasonably warm for late September, but a chill ran through my bones as panic gripped and twisted my insides. The sirens sounded again. We were under attack. Someone was attacking Elite Headquarters. Calm down. You need to breathe, I ordered myself. I forced myself to inhale the warm air through my nose and then blew it out, unsteadily, through clenched teeth.


    Slowly, I pivoted three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees¡ªchaos was the only way to describe the scene surrounding me. Pledges streamed from the cabins around Hunters Village. Panicked screams pierced the silence between siren blasts. I dug my nails sharply into my palms to prevent my own fear-driven yelps from escaping. Clear your mind. Focus. Concentrate your energy, I coached myself. I closed my eyes and forced my mind to go blank.


    My hypersensitive ears immediately registered a faint whizzing sound from above. I tilted my head back as I opened my eyes. The night sky looked as if it were falling, one star at a time. It took several seconds for my mind to process what my eyes were seeing; those weren¡¯t stars, those were bombs. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I forced the unpleasantness clawing its way to my mouth back down. The people who panic in a crisis are the people who die, I reminded myself.


    The bombs exploded, expelling bright neon liquid. One exploded several feet in front of where I stood. Several drops of the glowing liquid hit my bare skin. I wiped at my calves, frantically smearing the fluid with my palms. I rubbed my hands on my thin t-shirt and it instantly began to glow. I waited for pain that never came. I stared, wide-eyed, as bomb after bomb detonated on the ground, leaving neon puddles in their wake. Pledges ran with hands over their heads for protection.


    I needed to do something, anything, besides standing here waiting for more neon green liquid to hit me. I concentrated all of my considerable mental energy on the falling explosives and on slowing their descent. After several seconds, the bombs froze in mid-air. I let out a breath I wasn¡¯t aware I had been holding as I strained with the effort of holding them in place.


    Opening my mind, I felt a flood of mixed emotions. The panic radiating from the other pledges¡¯ brains mirrored my own. Strangely, I also felt enjoyment and laughter mingled with the fear and anxiety; confusion swept over me.


    Donavon, I thought. I needed to find Donavon; he would know what was going on. I pulled some of my mental focus away from holding the bombs and sought out Donavon¡¯s mind. It took me only seconds to find him, but once I did, I was even more perplexed.


    Donavon was laughing. I could feel his glee as he watched the bombs fall. I pinpointed his location. He was close. Concentrating harder, I slipped deeper in to his head. Finally, I saw Hunters Village through his eyes. I knew exactly where he was standing¡ªon a small hill that overlooked the village.


    ¡°Donavon?¡± I mentally called out to him.


    ¡°Welcome to the Hunters, Tal,¡± he laughed.


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± my mental voice screamed at him. Was he joking? This was an initiation ritual? Irritation quickly replaced my fear and confusion.


    I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. I had a feeling he could see me from his perch, even though I couldn¡¯t see him. I was so annoyed that I let my mental hold on the bombs slip, causing one that had been hovering over my head to hit me square in the face. I opened my mouth to scream and the neon liquid nearly choked me. Accidentally swallowing a huge gulp, I began to gag. I fell to my knees, retching, and willed myself to throw up the unknown substance.


    Donavon¡¯s laughter filled my head again. ¡°It¡¯s just colored water, Tal.¡±


    He clearly found the situation hysterical, and himself clever. Anger washed over me. The last two weeks had been the most physically demanding of my life and now I was being roused from bed in the middle of the night to have ¡°bombs¡± launched at me? This was so not funny.


    I refocused my energy to freeze what I now knew to be water balloons in mid-fall. I focused on Donavon¡¯s mind and forced the balloons back through the air to their origin, to Donavon and his group of cohorts. Not waiting for his reaction, I turned on my heel and walked back into my cabin. I slammed the door and crawled back into bed, not caring that I still looked radioactive.


    I had the covers pulled over my head when I heard the door open, accompanied by loud laughter.


    ¡°Talia,¡± Erik called, ¡°come out and play.¡±


    ¡°Leave me alone, you ass,¡± I snapped. Three distinct sets of laughter chorused in response. I felt the covers being yanked back. I clung to the soft fabric of my white comforter, but I was no match for three guys. I kicked and punched as Donavon leaned over me. His dark blonde hair was soaked with the neon green liquid, making me feel a little better.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a spoil sport, Tal,¡± he laughed. ¡°This is your formal welcome into Hunters pledging.¡±


    He wanted to see a spoil sport? I would show him a spoil sport. I kicked him in the stomach, hard, and he grunted. I flashed him a wicked smile. Erik pinned my legs down, giving Donavon the opportunity to scoop me up off my bed. I continued to squirm as he carried me across the cabin and back out into the night. He was over a foot taller and had close to a hundred pounds on me, so my efforts were in vain.


    ¡°Come on, Talia, it¡¯s almost over,¡± Erik whispered as he walked next to us. I craned my neck to face him and gave him a nasty look. He just laughed. I was hardly a threat at the moment.


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    Donavon carried me over to where a group of other pledges had already begun to congregate. He put me down in the wet grass but kept his hands firmly on my upper arms. Mentally I sent him a string of angry expletives. I didn¡¯t have to see his face to know he was smiling; he was enjoying my discomfort way too much.


    ¡°For those of you who don¡¯t know me, my name is Henri Reich,¡± an extremely tall, lean boy said, quieting those who were gathered. ¡°This is a little something we Hunters like to do as a welcome to the new pledges. I know you guys have all been working really hard these past two weeks. Making it this far means you¡¯ve passed the initial phase of training and are well on your way to graduating and becoming full-fledged Hunters. Congratulations!¡±


    When Henri stopped talking, Donavon released my arms. He stepped back so quickly I stumbled, nearly falling over. Donavon was not the only one who had retreated, all of the older Hunters had moved away from us, leaving me and the other pledges standing in the center of a new circle. More balloons rained down on the small group of us before I could register what was happening. These balloons were filled with a thick, gooey liquid in varying colors: paint. I used my hands to shield my head, but it didn¡¯t help.


    When the color assault finally ended, I removed my hands and looked around at the older Hunters. Some were doubled over with laughter. Even the more serious members were shaking with silent laughter. I scowled, hoping this was the only ¡°welcoming¡± gesture they¡¯d planned for us.


    Donavon materialized behind me again, wrapping his arms around my waist.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± he whispered into my ear.


    I reached my paint-covered hands up to his face and smeared squiggles down his cheeks. Then I ran my fingers through his damp, blond hair, leaving most of the paint behind.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I smiled sweetly.


    ¡°Enough, enough. I can¡¯t take all the cuteness,¡± Erik joked, coming over to us. ¡°Congrats Tal. You made it through your first round of training, and now you are officially a member of the most awesome hunting team ever¡ªmine,¡± he said, smiling broadly. Erik had smears of turquoise paint, the same color as his eyes, across each of his high cheekbones. The color complemented his tan skin nicely. He leaned down to hug me and I noticed flecks of purple and red paint decorating his thick black hair. I gave him a half-hearted hug in return.


    ¡°Talia, I¡¯m glad to have you as part of our team,¡± Henri said as he wrapped one of his long arms around my shoulders.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said sincerely. ¡°I¡¯m really glad to be here.¡± I was. This was what I¡¯d been working towards since I¡¯d started attending the McDonough School for the Talented seven years ago.


    At the end of their junior year, students selected the top three divisions of the government agency known as Talented Organization of Exceptionally Interesting Citizens¡ªTOXIC¡ªin which they wanted to work after graduation. Then a Placement Committee¡ªconsisting of each division head, the Director of the Agency and McDonough¡¯s headmistress¡ªreviewed each student¡¯s test scores, their Talent, and their Talent ranking, and assigned them to a division. Students spent their senior year, or pledge year as TOXIC termed it, working and training with their designated department. Not every student scored high enough to be rewarded with one of their top three choices and those students were randomly assigned to the less desirable divisions. The Hunters had been my top choice¡ªmy only choice. I knew I wanted, needed, to be a Hunter from my very first day.


    For most, it was an easy decision; they went with other Talents of their kind. Others, like me, wanted to do something different. Or, their particular ability did not have a niche. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for Talents besides Morphers, Light Manipulators, or Telekinetics to become Hunters, but I was one of the few who actually did. Most non-morphing Hunters weren¡¯t assigned to a team, but served as ¡°floaters¡± instead. Floaters were Hunters that joined individual hunting teams on a short-term basis, usually for just one hunting mission, to lend their individual specialty when it was needed.


    ¡°The food and drinks are on their way out, so please take advantage. As a special treat, curfew for the night has been lifted. And there will be no training until after lunchtime tomorrow, so enjoy yourselves,¡± Henri called to the entire group.


    Upon arriving at Elite Headquarters to start your pledge year, each pledge was assigned to a hunting team that had a vacancy. Hunting teams consisted of three members, but when one member left, TOXIC replaced them with a pledge. Part of what made the Hunters such a competitive division was the fact that they only took as many pledges as there were vacant hunting positions. This year only fifteen of us were accepted, much less than most years.


    I¡¯d been assigned to Henri Reich and Erik Kelley¡¯s hunting team. Henri was the oldest, and the leader of our trio. He stood almost two feet taller than me and was all lean muscle. His eyes were a warm, light brown, and he wore his hair just a little longer than most Hunters would have. Henri had been kind and patient in my short time working with him.


    Erik was Henri¡¯s polar opposite. He was only a couple of years younger than Henri, but was significantly more immature. It had amazed me to learn they were such good friends. Erik was shorter¡ªsomewhere between Henri¡¯s height and mine¡ªand more muscular than Henri, but by no means bulky. Erik¡¯s thick, black hair naturally fell to one side, and was long enough that he used a bandana to keep it out of his face when we practiced. He had extraordinary turquoise eyes; peculiar eye colors were a by-product of the same nuclear spill that had caused our talents. My own unnatural purplish-blue eyes were a result of the same catastrophe.


    Several more Hunters came over to welcome me and offer their congratulations. Graciously, I thanked them. Donavon grabbed my hand and led me away from the group after a short, squat boy with dark brown hair, whose name might have been Lenyx, had continued to extend his well wishes.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I mentally sent Donavon.


    I wasn¡¯t exactly what you would call a social person. For most of my life, I had only one friend: Donavon. My parents had hired private tutors for me, so I rarely had the opportunity to spend time with other children. We had never stayed in one place long enough for me to go to school. Donavon was a social butterfly, but he knew that large groups of people made me uncomfortable.


    ¡°I figured you might want to get away.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think I want to get away with you?¡± I teased him.


    He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around my waist, and lifted me off my feet until our lips met. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. I could never stay mad at him for very long.


    ¡°Told you that you wanted to get away with me,¡± he whispered in my ear, setting me back on the ground. His breath tickled my ear, and I giggled in spite of myself.


    He took my hand and led me behind the semicircle of cabins, and into the woods. We followed a short dirt path through the trees and into another small clearing. There was a small fire already blazing, and blankets and pillows were spread out around it.


    ¡°It¡¯s been so long since we spent time alone together. I thought that since you don¡¯t have a curfew tonight, maybe we could sleep under the stars.¡± His mental voice sounded tentative. I could tell he was afraid that I¡¯d say no.


    We hadn¡¯t spent much time together, just the two of us, in nearly a year. Since I was younger than Donavon, I still had to complete my time at school when he¡¯d come to Elite Headquarters. The time apart had been hard on both of us. I¡¯d seen him on holidays and the occasional weekend when he¡¯d been allowed to visit. We¡¯d talked daily, but it was a huge change seeing each other in classes and at every meal. One of the things I¡¯d been looking forward to the most about coming to Headquarters was being around him regularly again.


    I strode confidently towards the blankets and sat down. I patted a spot on the fabric next to me. Donavon gave me a huge smile and took a seat, folding his long legs underneath him.


    ¡°Donavon¡­.¡± I mentally began, looking at my hands uncomfortably. I did want to spend the night with him out there, under the stars, but I also didn¡¯t want him to get the wrong idea.


    He lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his clear blue eyes.


    ¡°I know, Tal. No pressure. I just want to spend time with you.¡± His voice was soft.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said out loud, giving him an appreciative half-grin. Donavon was only a year older than me, but that year seemed to make all the difference when it came to the next step in our relationship.


    We both laid down with our heads on the pillows, facing each other. Donavon draped one arm over my small waist and extended the other one under my head. We stayed like that for the rest of the night. We talked until just before sunrise, our entire exchange taking place mentally. We rarely spoke ¡°normally¡±, not since that first summer when we met.


    Donavon pulled me in closer. I buried my face in his broad chest, feeling comfortable and relaxed for the first time since arriving at Elite Headquarters.


    I drifted off to sleep as the sky turned from the dark of night to the pink of morning.

 The One with the Petty Revenge

    The Great Contamination, as the history books called it, occurred a little over one hundred years ago. It started with natural disasters¡ªearthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, tornadoes¡ªthat destroyed both small coastal fishing villages and large industrial nations alike. The aboveground damage was extensive; entire towns were washed away. Millions worldwide lost everything, including their lives. Within weeks of the initial string of disasters, the world received another shocking blow. The nuclear reactors buried deep in the Earth¡¯s surface had begun to leak. Originally, the governments of the most powerful nations in the world banded together in an attempt to contain the waste. They called in world-renowned scientists, but nobody could figure out how to prevent the spread of the nuclear material.


    In less than one year, all the world¡¯s oceans were officially declared contaminated. The decimation of marine life was the first step on the path to the destruction of the world¡¯s ecosystem. Governments around the world issued massive health warnings and swimming in the oceans became prohibited. The remaining sea life and land animals were deemed unsafe to eat.


    As if the initial effects of the disasters were not bad enough, a few years later the long-term ramifications started to become apparent. Any and all animals that had survived were rounded up and bred in an effort to rebuild the populations. But the animals born in captivity weren¡¯t normal. Horses were born with horns, dogs with feathers instead of fur, fish with three eyes, and even two-headed pigs were reported.


    Quickly, it became evident that the anomalies weren¡¯t specific to animal life. The change in animals was followed closely by changes in plant life. Leaves began to glow at night, and the bark on trees grew a fuzzy coating, stinging anything that touched it. Even insects began to exhibit changes in color, size, and the number of appendages.


    However, the most astonishing effects of the contamination weren¡¯t observed until the first post-contamination children were born. While most afflicted children were born with unnatural eyes, white-blonde hair, or an extra finger or toe, a large portion were also born with a little something extra¡ªsomething more serious.


    As this first post-contamination generation reached the age of five, parents started to notice that their kids were¡­ odd. Some parents hid their children¡¯s abnormalities or, as they are now called, ¡°talents¡±. Other parents weren¡¯t able to hide the truth, given the fact that their child could change into an animal at will. It soon became obvious that these talents were as varied as they were prevalent.


    Morphing was the most common talent. Some children could morph into multiple animals¡ªcalled Polymorphs¡ªwhile others were limited to only one or two creatures. Telekinesis, telepathy, compulsion, higher reasoning, viewing, and visions were also among the first recorded talents. Eventually, Light Manipulators, Electrical Manipulators, and Mental Manipulators were also discovered.


    Of course, not all children were born with talents. Many appeared and acted just as ordinary as their parents. Scientists studied both types of children, desperately seeking answers as to why some were born ¡°normal¡± while others were not. For years experts experimented on the kids, but their efforts were to no avail. They were unable to isolate any single gene mutation that could account for the variation. Researchers were baffled. There was only one hypothesis that they all agreed on: the Talented were a direct result of The Great Contamination.


    Some talents were revered while others were feared. Visionaries were among those prized. Everybody in the world wanted to believe a better life was on the horizon, and any child who claimed to see a brighter future was placed on a pedestal. On the other hand, Telepaths and Mental Manipulators were among those feared. Nobody liked the idea of children who could influence the minds of others.


    The contamination levels remained extremely high for several decades, so the first few generations of offspring were heavily saturated with Talents. As time passed, the filtration systems became more advanced and scientists developed chemicals to counteract the effects on the human body, resulting in fewer and fewer children born with a talent. The rare talents¡ªsuch as teleportation and healing¡ªdwindled away early on, while the more common ones¡ªsuch as manipulation¡ªstill remain over a century later.


    Presently, less than a quarter of the population is born with a talent. While there is no doubt that originally the Talented were a result of the nuclear contamination, today the cause is less certain. Some believe that the children born with talents must be the descendants of the first generation of children born in the post-contamination era. Others believe that some families had always possessed abilities and the genetic irregularities that cause talents were just enhanced by the nuclear material. Still, others believe that it¡¯s all chance, that being Talented is a fluke.


    What do I believe? Some days I feel as though I am cursed. Cursed with an affliction that cannot be healed. Cursed to explore the mundane minds of those surrounding me. Cursed to know what people honestly think about me. Cursed to be burdened with other people¡¯s darkest secrets. Other days, I believe that I won the genetic lottery. After all, who wants to be ordinary?


    ¡°It¡¯s rude to stare at people while they¡¯re sleeping,¡± I slurred drowsily to Donavon as I attempted to drag myself out of sleep. I still had my eyes closed, but could feel him watching me. I could also feel the warm sun on my face and knew it must be mid-morning. I smiled. I didn¡¯t usually have the luxury of sleeping in.


    ¡°It¡¯s time to get up, sleepyhead,¡± he teased.


    ¡°Shhh. Sleeping,¡± I shot back, still grinning.


    ¡°I snagged some stuff for breakfast, and if you get up now, we can eat together before you need to head back for your afternoon practices,¡± he tempted. He knew the fastest way to wake me up was by promising me food.


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    ¡°Ugh,¡± I groaned out loud. Despite waking up with the birds for nearly half of my life, I was definitely not a morning person. I finally opened my eyes and, sure enough, Donavon¡¯s face was only inches from mine. His hair was cut short, so even after a night of sleeping outside, he looked put together. I had a feeling that I didn¡¯t look quite so good. My thoughts were confirmed when he reached out and gently detangled leaves and twigs from my wild dark curls.


    The few female Hunters that I¡¯d met wore their hair short so it was easy to conceal on missions. I¡¯d briefly contemplated cutting my hair, but when you¡¯re cursed with thick, curly hair, short is not a good look. Instead, I usually threaded my curls into a braid that reached halfway down my back.


    ¡°How bad is it?¡± I cringed, not sure I wanted to know the truth.


    ¡°You look like an earth goddess,¡± he joked.


    I pushed him hard, causing him to fall over onto his back, laughing.


    ¡°Feed me, please,¡± I said, still groggy.


    I sat up and blinked several times, trying to clear the last vestiges of sleep from my otherwise perfect vision. The morning light streamed into our makeshift campground through the tops of the surrounding trees. Donavon must have gotten up during the night to stoke the fire because it was still burning strong. He reached into a cooler sitting on the far side of his black-and-red-checkered blanket and pulled out several containers. The first was a shiny, metal thermos that he warmed in the fire. The next contained bright red raspberries. The last held thick slices of a white, spicy cracked-pepper cheese. Finally, Donavon pulled out a loaf of bread with a crusty brown exterior and a soft white center. He used a Swiss Army Knife to cut the bread, placing it in the fire just long enough to warm it. I watched, feeling extremely lazy as he poured the dark-brown liquid from the thermos into two ceramic cups he pulled from a black canvas bag. He handed one to me. I held it under my nose, inhaling the rich aroma, as the steam pouring off the top warmed my face. He handed me half of the loaf of bread. I took it gratefully and added several slices of the cheese along the length of the baguette, chewing happily. In between bites of spicy, cheesy bread, I popped mouthfuls of sweet, juicy berries.


    ¡°Good?¡± Donavon asked, watching me with an amused smirk. I beamed in return while trying to keep all the food in my mouth.


    ¡°It¡¯ll do,¡± I replied in the most off-hand tone that I could manage mentally. I didn¡¯t want him to be too satisfied with the delicious breakfast he¡¯d arranged. In truth, I lived for mornings like this with Donavon. Sitting there, alone with him, reminded me of when we were children, before life became so complicated.


    After breakfast, we packed up our campsite, extinguished the fire, and walked the short distance back to Hunters Village. We paused when we entered the cluster of small houses. Donavon leaned down and kissed me goodbye.


    ¡°Have a good day,¡± he grinned.


    ¡°You, too,¡± I replied with a smirk. I was still barefoot, so I walked carefully through the grass which was still checkered with splashes of paint and neon dye from the night before.


    I gently opened the door to the cabin I shared with Erik and Henri. Both were, thankfully, still in bed. I glanced longingly toward my empty bed, still a mess of sheets and pillows from the night before when I¡¯d been so rudely awakened. Tiptoeing across the wooden floor towards the bathroom, I prayed that the ancient boards wouldn¡¯t creak. I had one hand on the doorknob when I heard a voice behind me.


    ¡°Late night, Talia?¡± Erik¡¯s tousled black hair was just visible over the top of his blanket. His turquoise eyes were shining with amusement, streaks of paint still on his face.


    ¡°None of your business,¡± I retorted, trying to hide my reddening cheeks.


    ¡°Actually, it is my business. We¡¯re a team; you, me, Henri. Our lives depend on each other, so anything and everything that affects one of us affects all of us,¡± he lectured me with mock seriousness.


    ¡°You¡¯re still a pledge, and I¡¯m the leader of this team, so you have to do what I say; and I say you tell us where you were last night,¡± Henri chimed in.


    Great, they were both awake. I glared at Henri.


    ¡°You both know exactly where I was,¡± I squeaked. I sounded like a child getting caught doing something wrong, instead of an adult who had every right to spend the night with her boyfriend.


    ¡°I wanna hear you say it,¡± Erik taunted.


    ¡°Why?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°So we can see you blush,¡± Erik laughed. Too late. The heat from my face was already spreading down my neck. Thank goodness the room was still somewhat dark.


    I mentally shoved the bathroom door open and quickly stumbled through, willing it to close behind me. The door slammed hard enough to shake the wooden walls of the cabin. I heard Erik and Henri¡¯s laughter even after I turned on the shower.


    I took my time in the shower, not wanting to face Erik or Henri sooner than was necessary. There weren¡¯t many girls who chose to become Hunters. I had always wondered why. Now I knew. Most girls were too smart to subject themselves to shared living quarters with teenage boys.


    When the water finally ran cold, and I had succeeded in removing all the paint¡ªand likely the top layer of my skin¡ªI climbed out of the shower. I toweled myself dry and selected a set of standard issue workout clothes¡ªstretchy black pants and a stretchy black tank top¡ªfrom my designated bathroom drawers.


    I used the towel to clear the layer of steam from the small oval mirror over the sink. I closely examined my reflection, searching for traces of the previous night. Mercifully, my mundane reflection was the only thing staring back at me. My damp curls looked black instead of brown from the water. My pupils were dilated so only a rim of purple was visible and my normally olive-toned skin was bright red from the heat of the shower water and my vigorous scrubbing. I tapped my index finger on the pointy, slightly upturned end of my nose as if that would help to flatten it down a little. I rubbed at the smattering of tiny brown dots that covered the bridge of my nose and my cheekbones. They didn¡¯t go anywhere, assuring me they were in fact freckles and not lingering dirt. Finally, when I couldn¡¯t find any additional ways to prolong my bathroom time, I wrapped the towel around my hair and opened the door into the main room of the cabin.


    ¡°Took you long enough,¡± Erik said impatiently. ¡°You do realize that we all have to shower, right?¡±


    ¡°I thought you took your weekly shower three days ago,¡± I shot back.


    ¡°I did, but I have a hot lunch date with one of the Brains, so I don¡¯t want to smell.¡± Brain was a slang term for a Higher-Reasoning Talent because their minds analyzed data faster than any computer. Erik wiggled his eyebrows at me, his trademark move, then lifted his arm and sniffed.


    ¡°Charming,¡± I sarcastically commented while rolling my eyes.


    ¡°Do I smell, Tals? Maybe I don¡¯t need to shower after all,¡± he asked, walking toward me and putting his armpit in my face.


    ¡°Eww, Erik! Honestly, if the girls that line up to go out with you had to spend as much time with you as I do, they would definitely reconsider.¡±


    ¡°No way. Every girl here considers you the luckiest girl alive.¡±


    I glanced over at Henri and gave him an ¡°is-he-serious?¡± look. He just shook his head. Erik and Henri had been friends and teammates for two years. I guess he was used to Erik¡¯s antics.


    Erik went into the bathroom and I sat down on my unmade bed. I counted to ten, and then, as if on cue, Erik screamed my name followed by a long list of expletives. I¡¯d taken all the hot water. I smiled in satisfaction.

 The One With Nepotism

    In the decades following The Great Contamination, it became clear to the powers-that-be that the Talented were a new breed of children and posed numerous potential threats. The question of how to deal with these children was the most hotly debated topic at global summits. Fear of the unknown drove many nations to demand that the children be locked up ¡°for their own safety¡±. But let¡¯s be honest, imprisoning the Talented was actually for the peace of mind of scared politicians. Some extremist nations even argued in favor of the eradication of any and all persons exhibiting paranormal abilities. In the end, no satisfactory global solution was reached. Instead, each country was left to handle the situation in a manner that best served their individual interests.


    Margaret Anne McDonough was the seventy-fifth president of the United States of America and also grandmother to towheaded five-year-old Daniel McDonough¡ªan exceptionally strong Mind Manipulator. President McDonough believed children born with abilities needed to be nurtured and taught to use their talents. She converted a military facility located in western Maryland, previously a presidential bunker, into a training facility that soon became known as The McDonough School for the Talented.


    The McDonough School for the Talented didn¡¯t only play host to America¡¯s Talented children. Since many other countries weren¡¯t as forward thinking when it came to the Talented, the school welcomed all gifted kids from around the world. I, like many of the children there, wasn¡¯t born in the U.S. I was born in Capri, Italy. Even though my parents, Francis and Katerina Lyons, traveled a lot because of my father¡¯s position with the government, I called Capri home until their deaths seven years ago.


    At first, President McDonough merely offered families the option to send their Talented children to the school. Over time however, it became apparent that some parents were reluctant to have their children attend a special school. They didn¡¯t want the stigma that many associated with having a Talented child. Instead, these parents chose to homeschool their children if they were unable to hide the abnormalities. If they could hide the abilities, the parents sent their kids to normal schools and pretended there was nothing ¡°special¡± about them.


    This ignited a new debate. Parents of ¡°normal¡± children argued that it was unacceptable because their offspring were at a disadvantage when compared to Talented children. These parents claimed that the Talented kids had an unfair edge in every aspect of life, including sports and academics. They argued that they shouldn¡¯t be allowed to attend schools and play sports with the ¡°normal¡± kids. In their minds, it simply wasn¡¯t fair to those born unaffected by the nuclear contamination.


    Parents of non-talented children weren¡¯t the only people calling for segregation in schools. Congress passed the Mandatory Talent Testing Act five years after McDonough¡¯s school opened. This law required that, at the age of five, every child be tested for special abilities. Every child testing positive was sent to the school. As the first few classes of children turned eighteen and graduated, it became clear that all of the training and talent development was going to waste, and TOXIC was born.


    TOXIC is an agency within the government that utilizes each child¡¯s unique ability in the most advantageous way. Divisions within TOXIC, or The Agency, were created around the most prevalent talents. The divisions include:


    The Hunters Division: aptly named as their main duty is to hunt both people and information. Morphing, light manipulation, and telekinesis are the most common gifts among Hunters. If another division perceives a threat, a hunting team is dispatched to neutralize it. When another division stumbles across valuable information, a hunting team goes to retrieve it. ¡°Hunter¡± is the modern term for an ancient profession: spying.


    The Crypto Division: created for higher reasoning Talents¡ªalso known as the Brains. The Brains spend all their time in front of computer screens, sifting through streams of encrypted communications, quickly decrypting them, and analyzing any hidden messages. They monitor every text, voice and holographic communication throughout the United States, and many abroad. Essentially, Brains are the eyes and ears of The Agency. They are the first line of defense against all threats, both foreign and domestic.


    The Tracking Division: staffed by Viewers¡ªTalented able to remotely observe events taking place anywhere in the world. The more powerful Viewers are better able to control the talent; they can focus their energy when given a picture or piece of clothing, locate the individual, and give an accurate description of the surroundings. Unfortunately, strong Viewers are rare these days. The one or two Talented that test positive for viewing every year are usually too weak to be truly effective. At best, they are able to track an individual they are physically close to or related to by blood.


    The Planning Division: home to Visionaries, or Talented that see the future. The difficulty with Visionaries is that most cannot control the timing of their visions. The average Visionary has a vision only every few weeks and it occurs at random. Most are unable to control the target of the vision, as well. The strongest, or Elite Level Visionaries, are able to concentrate on one person and see flashes of their future on command. The insights of Visionaries often prevent attacks on our country.


    The Interrogation Division: formed for Talents with varying degrees of telepathy and mind manipulation capabilities. Telepaths and Mind Manipulators use their abilities to question any individual thought to be a threat to the country¡¯s safety. Telepaths can easily tell if a person is lying and Manipulators can compel him to tell the truth. The Agency even lends out weaker Telepaths and Manipulators to local governments to interrogate criminal suspects. This has led to swift justice and an expedited legal system. Many years ago the Supreme Court ruled that no trial is needed in cases where the suspect is interrogated by a documented Telepath or Mind Manipulator.


    There are also divisions within The Agency that are not gift-specific. The Research & Development and the Medical sectors are staffed by the Talented exhibiting a high academic aptitude in one of the sciences: biology, chemistry, or physics. Those demonstrating extraordinary physical strengths, who were not accepted into the Hunters, join the Military Division or guard TOXIC¡¯s various facilities; weapons¡¯ plants, prisons, and the McDonough School. Some Talented even stay on at the McDonough School and help the newbies develop their own abilities.


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    Finally, there are the low-level Talented, some of whom end up in one of The Agency¡¯s manufacturing plants, assembling anything from weapons to office chairs. The extremely unfortunate low-level Talented become secretaries, cooks, or cleaning staff.


    I came to live at and attend McDonough School after the death of my family. My decision to pledge the Hunters had brought me to my current home, Hunters Village at Elite Headquarters, located approximately one hundred miles west of the nation¡¯s capital in scenic Brentwood Springs, West Virginia. If all went according to plan, I would officially graduate in one year, become a Hunter, and find the man responsible for the deaths of my parents. But for now, I would settle for learning to live with my new teammates¡ªwithout killing Erik or dying of embarrassment on account of his constant teasing.


    ***


    I wasn¡¯t hungry, but I accepted Henri¡¯s invitation to have lunch before our afternoon practice. Henri was twenty-two and already a full-fledged Hunter after following the usual TOXIC protocol. He had started at the McDonough School, leaving his home in Somerset, Pennsylvania, when he was just five. At seventeen, he¡¯d pledged the Hunters and come to live at Elite Headquarters. At eighteen, after successfully completing his pledge year, he¡¯d officially graduated and become a member of TOXIC¡¯s most coveted division.


    Henri and I chatted comfortably through lunch. In the two weeks since my arrival, we¡¯d rarely spent any time alone, just the two of us. Normally during meals, he lectured me about the nuances of life in the Hunters. But today he told me a bit about his family back home in Pennsylvania. His parents weren¡¯t Talented and had been shocked, yet pleased, to learn he was a Polymorph. His much younger sister, Melony, was twelve and also a Talent¡ªa Light Manipulator. He visited her at McDonough School as often as he could get away, since neither sibling went home very often.


    Most people didn¡¯t know about my past, so I let Henri do most of the talking. At school I had kept a low profile¡ªnever truly displaying my full powers. Telepathy was not uncommon but advanced mind manipulation, as I was capable of, was extremely rare. At Elite Headquarters they knew exactly what I was capable of but if it unnerved them, they didn¡¯t let it show. Henri had even said he¡¯d requested me specifically because he¡¯d heard rumors of my abilities.


    After lunch, we met up with Erik at our designated practice space, area thirteen. Today, like every day since I¡¯d been assigned to Henri¡¯s team, we worked on three-way mental communication. This skill was the entire reason Henri wanted me as part of his team. I was already able to communicate mentally with each of them individually, but he hoped I would be able to figure out a way for all three of us to hear each other at the same time.


    Ordinarily, I would¡¯ve said three-way communication was not possible, but I wasn¡¯t the only one in our group with an unusual talent for a Hunter. Erik was what TOXIC called a Mimic, meaning he could mimic the abilities of any talent that he was near. When the three of us were together, Erik was able to mimic my mental abilities and Henri¡¯s morphing talents at the same time. This allowed me to communicate mentally with both Erik and Henri, and for Erik to communicate with both Henri and me, mentally. The final step, the one we¡¯d worked on every day for the past two weeks, was to establish the three-way link. So far, we weren¡¯t having a lot of luck. Henri was becoming frustrated with my lack of progress and Erik¡¯s constant threesome jokes, but he was doing a good job of hiding it. He was too polite to complain and too professional to let his disappointment show. Still, I could feel his patience waning with each passing day.


    In addition to the mental training, we also trained physically. I typically spent my afternoons at the firing range, practicing with firearms, a bow and arrow, or learning knife-throwing. Once a week, Erik taught me how to fence. I wasn¡¯t very good, a fact made more apparent by Erik¡¯s phenomenal skill, but Henri insisted it was vital that I train with every weapon available.


    After our training that afternoon, we went back to the cabin to clean up.


    ¡°Are you gracing us with your presence at dinner?¡± Erik asked as I sat on my bed, drying my hair after my shower.


    ¡°Not tonight,¡± I replied offhandedly.


    ¡°We¡¯re way better company than the Director¡¯s son.¡±


    ¡°Keep telling yourself that,¡± I murmured. I was used to the way others acted towards Donavon. He wasn¡¯t only the son of the Director of the Agency, but also shared a last name with the founder of the school. Margaret Ann McDonough was his great-great-great-great-great grandmother, give-or-take a couple of ¡°greats¡±.


    ¡°Oh Talia, come on now, I don¡¯t need to tell myself that. There are plenty of girls who remind me of that all the time.¡± Erik winked at me.


    ¡°Erik,¡± Henri warned, giving him a pointed look.


    ¡°What? You know it¡¯s true. The only reason people want to hang out with him is because he¡¯s the Director¡¯s son, and they think that¡¯ll somehow get them favors. That¡¯s probably the only reason he even got into the Hunters. He¡¯s not even that good.¡±


    ¡°Erik. Stop,¡± Henri said through clenched teeth.


    ¡°Is that how you feel about me, too? Is that why you wanted me as part of your team?¡± I spun around to him. I was seething. I might be used to the way people talked about Donavon, but that didn¡¯t mean I liked it. It wasn¡¯t his fault he was born Mac¡¯s son.


    ¡°What?¡± To his credit, Erik seemed slightly taken aback, like he genuinely didn¡¯t know what I was talking about. My anger lessened slightly.


    ¡°Mac raised me. I lived with his family until I came here,¡± I said evenly. ¡°Do you think I get special treatment? Do you think I only got here because of Mac? That he called in special favors to get me into the Hunters?¡±


    ¡°Oh, shit. Talia, I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know,¡± he apologized, but Henri was the only one left in the cabin to hear his words.


    I was acutely sensitive, maybe overly so, when it came to my relationship with Mac, or Director Danbury McDonough as he was known to most. The crappiest part of being able to read minds was knowing what people really thought of you. Erik¡¯s view wasn¡¯t the minority opinion. A lot of other students thought I¡¯d only been accepted to pledge the Hunters because Mac had pulled strings to get me in. They complained to each other¡ªif I were anyone else, I would be working in some remedial Agency position, like food services or janitorial duty. It had been this way since I first went to McDonough School: the whispering when I walked past, the sneers when I answered a question correctly in class, the outright condemnation by all the girls my age when I started dating Donavon. It usually didn¡¯t bother me much. Mostly the accusations just made me work harder. I didn¡¯t bother to correct them.


    The truth was that I worked extremely hard to get an invitation to pledge the Hunters. Hunters were typically Morphers. Their natural talents gave them extremely heightened senses, in addition to the ability to morph into a variety of animals, and in some rare cases, other humans. I would never be able to morph, since it¡¯s not a learned behavior. However, fine-tuning my senses was something I was capable of mastering. So I did. Mac had begun working with me when I first came to McDonough School. I also took extra combat and weapons lessons every day instead of making friends. I felt confident that my abilities rivaled those of the best of my classmates when I went to try out for the Hunters. Captain Alvarez, the leader of the Hunters, had thought so, too; I¡¯d taken the liberty of peeking into his head to make sure.

 The One with the Origin Story

    After the Mandatory testing law took effect, several rebel factions developed in response. They accumulated a strong following, mostly in the southwestern United States. The rebels staged a small revolt, but The Agency squashed it before it had gone too far. In the end, the Coalition of Rebel States, California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico and Texas, seceded from the rest of the country and elected their own president. Over the years, The Coalition had served as a safe haven for citizens who championed a country where talents were suppressed, or hidden; where being Talented was something that brought shame. One of the primary objectives of TOXIC was to prevent The Coalition from gaining any more momentum. In fact, Mac¡¯s main goal as Director was to defeat The Coalition¡¯s leaders and reunite the country.


    I was ten years old when the rebels killed my parents. My family moved around a lot when I was a child, because of my father¡¯s job as a government scientist. At the time of the attack, we were visiting the States so that my father could attend an annual meeting with members of TOXIC. My family always stayed in the same hotel, about twenty minutes away from McDonough School¡¯s campus.


    The men in black came in the dead of night. My father and his bodyguard tried to fight them off, but they were incredibly outnumbered. My mother hid me in a closet and went to my father¡¯s aid, but she was no more a fighter than he was. I watched through the slats in the closet door, terrified as the men in black mercilessly killed my parents. I stuffed my small fist in my mouth and bit down until I tasted blood, willing myself not to scream. I wanted to close my eyes against the carnage. Instead, I sat frozen with my eyes open so wide that they began to water, producing tears even before my brain could process what was going on.


    My parents¡¯ deaths had been quick. One cold metal bullet to the side of my father¡¯s head was all it took to steal the life of the man whose lap I curled up in every night before bed; the man who brought me cold milk and warm cinnamon sugar cookies when I had nightmares; the man whose warm dark brown eyes and toothy smile lit up every time my mother walked in the room.


    My poor mother never stood a chance. She was grabbed from behind before she could even reach my father. A gaping wound appeared across her throat with one flick of her attacker¡¯s wrist. The man in black tossed her carelessly next to my father¡¯s crumpled form, as if she were trash.


    I felt murderous. The feelings overwhelmed me, stirring in my stomach and rising like bile in my throat. Then, the horrible, high-pitched shrieking started. It filled my ears, suffocating all of the coherent thoughts in my brain.


    I am still not sure if it was the cold, calculated murder of my father, or the careless disposal of my mother¡ªprobably both¡ªbut I felt something inside of me snap. One minute I was hiding in the closet with the silk of my mother¡¯s long dresses pulled tight around my face to block out the brutal scene in the bedroom. The next, I was sitting in the outer room of our hotel suite, surrounded by broken furniture, shattered glass, and the bodies of the men in black. They were all dead.


    The heavy black clouds in the night sky matched the darkness I felt building inside me. The rain began to fall through the broken windows in fat drops. They came down slowly at first, but it wasn¡¯t long before the drops blended together, becoming streams of water falling from the sky. The rainwater was cold, a sharp contrast to the hot tears pouring from my eyes.


    I don¡¯t know how long I sat there in the rain before a blond man rushed through the open door to the hotel room. I recognized him from meetings with my father, but I couldn¡¯t remember his name. He was a large man with broad shoulders, hair that was cut short, and a tanned, weathered face.


    The blond man carried a large gun slung over one shoulder, and several smaller ones tucked at his waist. An entire team of men clamored through the doorway after him. He held up one of his hands, indicating for the men to stay back. He approached me slowly, hesitantly. As he got closer, he tentatively extended one of his large, gloved hands toward me. I had seen people approach wounded animals the same way.


    ¡°Natalia?¡± he asked in a soft voice. Unable to find the energy to nod my head, I just stared blankly.


    ¡°Natalia,¡± he repeated, ¡°my name is Danbury McDonough. Do you remember me? I¡¯m friends with your daddy.¡± I rewarded him with another of my blank stares.


    ¡°Natalia, are you hurt?¡± He took my silence as an indication that I was not.


    He knelt next to me and gently untangled my fingers from the folds of my dress. Without thinking, I threw my arms around his neck. He patted me awkwardly on the back, unsure how to react. I dug my small fingers into his shoulders, scared to let go. He carefully picked me up. I started shaking, actually feeling the cold for the first time.


    ¡°You¡¯re freezing,¡± he commented, hugging me.


    He carried me out the door. The men spoke in low voices to one another.


    ¡°How many are dead?¡± one man whispered to the shorter man standing next to him.


    ¡°There have to be at least ten right there,¡± another proffered.


    ¡°Did she do that?¡± the shorter man asked in disbelief.


    ¡°Impossible, she¡¯s a child,¡± a heavily accented voice interjected.


    ¡°Does she even have a weapon?¡±


    I could feel Mac¡¯s body tense in response to the mutterings of the men. He hurried us through the corridor and down the stairs to a waiting car in the parking lot.


    He placed me in the backseat of the waiting vehicle. I curled into a ball as he covered me with a blanket. My body and mind were numb, impervious to the rain and cold. He tucked the red and black fabric under my chin. I was vaguely aware that the material was itchy against my skin, but I didn¡¯t move it away.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    I could hear the soft ping of the raindrops hitting the metal roof of the car, keeping perfect time with the tears leaking on to the soft leather seat and pooling underneath my cheek. I tried to concentrate on the noise instead of the mental slideshow of my parents¡¯ deaths. I was convinced that the images, now seared into my consciousness, would never fade. The rage I¡¯d felt in the closet was now gone, leaving me hollow and tired, so tired. I closed my swollen eyes and willed my mind blank.


    I spent one month at the medical facility located on the grounds of the McDonough School. Mac came to visit me every day. He kept up a constant, one-sided conversation, never appearing bothered by my lack of response. Every day the medics would draw my blood, hook me up to machines, and talk about my vital signs. Sometimes they talked to me and sometimes they simply talked around me.


    One morning, Mac came into my room and instead of sitting in his usual chair in the corner, he crouched down next to the side of my bed. He made a point to lock his steely-gray eyes with mine.


    ¡°Natalia, I need to talk to you,¡± he said, in the most serious tone he¡¯d ever used with me, ¡°and I need you to listen very carefully. The medics here say you are physically healthy and that you can be released.¡±


    When I did not comment, Mac plunged forward with what, I assumed, was a carefully prepared speech. ¡°You have two choices. I found an uncle¡ªyour father¡¯s brother, I think¡ªin Italy, who is willing to let you live with him and his family.¡± He hesitated before giving me my second option, but I didn¡¯t need to hear him say it; I read the one word out of his mind. Before he could open his mouth, I said my first word since that fateful night: ¡°Revenge.¡±


    During one of his daily visits, Mac had explained to me TOXIC¡¯s theory of what happened the night my parents were murdered. They believed that the President of The Coalition, Ian Crane, had ordered the deaths of my parents in retaliation for my father¡¯s scientific contributions to the study of Talents and what caused our abilities. Mac said our family wasn¡¯t the only one The Coalition had targeted, but it was the first time they had left a survivor.


    That very day, I left medical and went to live with Danbury ¡°Mac¡± McDonough, his wife Gretchen, and their twelve-year-old son. I had no personal items, so I followed Mac, empty-handed, up the long stone path to a sprawling ranch-style house. Before we reached the bright red front door, it opened and inside stood a tall woman with pretty blond hair and big blue eyes. Standing next to her was a boy. At twelve, the son was already as tall as his mother. He had shaggy, blond hair and eyes like his mother. He smiled at me, and for the first time since my parents¡¯ death, I smiled back.


    ¡°Natalia, I would like you to meet my wife, Gretchen, and my son, Donavon,¡± Mac said to me as he gestured to each in turn.


    ¡°Natalia,¡± Gretchen greeted me warmly. ¡°I had some clothes made for you, sweetheart. I hope you will like them.¡±


    I knew I should say thank you, but I couldn¡¯t find my voice, so I simply nodded.


    ¡°Donavon, why don¡¯t you show Natalia to her new room and let her get settled? I am sure she needs to rest,¡± Gretchen said to her son, still smiling down at me.


    ¡°¡¯OK, follow me,¡± Donovan instructed.


    I looked up at Mac. He nodded encouragingly, so I followed Donavon. He didn¡¯t speak as we wound through the maze that was their house. Finally, we reached a set of double doors in the very back of the house. Donavon opened the doors and led me into a small living area with two overstuffed red couches and a small dark wooden table.


    ¡°This is your sitting room,¡± he explained. ¡°Through that door over there is your bedroom and bathroom. My mom hung clothes in the closet, and there are some books on the desk. My dad said you liked reading old books.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I croaked in a voice that was hoarse from non-use.


    ¡°You need anything else?¡± he asked. I shook my head, and he turned to leave. He hesitated at the door. ¡°Is it true you can manipulate people¡¯s minds?¡± he asked, so fast that I nearly misunderstood him.


    ¡°Who told you that?¡± I demanded.


    ¡°I heard my dad and one of his Hunters talking,¡± he replied, sheepishly. ¡°Dad says you can perform mind manipulation.¡± I just stared, not sure how to react. My parents taught me never to talk about my unique abilities.


    ¡°So, is it true?¡± Donavon pressed.


    After a long moment, I walked towards him. His eyes widened, but he didn¡¯t flinch as I reached out and took his hand. I fixed his wide eyes with my own.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s true,¡± I answered mentally.


    His eyes grew even wider, but he didn¡¯t release my hand.


    ¡°Whoa, that¡¯s so cool,¡± his mental voice replied. ¡°Can you make anybody hear what you are thinking?¡±


    ¡°If I want them to, I can make people hear or see anything.¡±


    Donavon smiled. ¡°That¡¯s so cool,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not scared of me?¡± I tentatively asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how anyone could be scared of you.¡±


    I looked up into his shining blue eyes and smiled. For the first time in my life, I knew that I had a friend.


    The first couple of days with the McDonough family were strange. Mac and Gretchen continually tried to engage me in conversation, but I wasn¡¯t ready to talk to them. Mac would come visit me in my sitting room and talk about my soon-to-be new life at school. I had heard my father talk about the school when he thought I wasn¡¯t paying attention. I listened intently to every word Mac said, mentally filing every detail away for later.


    While Mac¡¯s sole concern was making sure that I understood my new role as a student at school, Gretchen¡¯s priority was making sure that I never wore the same outfit twice. When I arrived, the closet was filled with elaborate dresses made of raw silk, soft animal hair sweaters in varying colors, and comfortable looking cotton pants. Every day more packages arrived with fabrics that Gretchen had ordered from New York City. She would send for one of the seamstresses from school, and the two of them would spend the day fussing over tailoring the new clothes and deciding what new outfits needed ordered.


    Each day after lunch, Donavon would rescue me from his mother¡¯s fawning. I seldom spoke when I was with Mac or Gretchen; with Donavon I rarely kept quiet. Donavon wanted to know all about the glamorous life I¡¯d led, traveling around the world. He¡¯d spent all of his life living at either the McDonough School or Elite Headquarters. I hated to tell him that I spent most of my life inside hotel rooms and rarely got to see anything cool. Likewise, I wanted to know everything about his life at school with friends. I had little interaction with kids my own age growing up, and even less interaction¡ªnone, actually¡ªwith Talented kids. In fact, before coming to live with the McDonough¡¯s, I didn¡¯t know that what I could do was considered a talent.


    Donavon was what TOXIC called a Polymorph. He could change into just about any animal. He told me that his dad had been teaching him how to morph into other human forms, but he was not even close to achieving such a feat.


    Some days, I would spend the afternoon watching Donavon show off; he would morph from one animal to another while I giggled and clapped for him. Other days, he would work with me on my abilities. We would hide out in the woods behind his parents¡¯ house and see if I could reach his mind, widening the gap each day until we could communicate across the entire compound. Sometimes, we would simply wander down to the lake on the other side of the woods to play in the water.


    Every night, alone in my room, I cried myself to sleep. I had succeeded in almost entirely blocking out the violence that had cost my parents their lives, but that didn¡¯t mean I missed them any less. I loved having a real friend in Donavon, and Mac and Gretchen were going out of their way to make me feel like part of their family. But they would never be my actual family. I forced myself to repeat the name, over and over, of the man who I¡¯d learned ordered the death of my family: Ian Crane. I promised myself that one day I would return the favor.

 The One With The Mind Meld

    I was in a foul mood when I met Donavon in a small caf¨¦ for dinner. He was sitting at a table in the corner waiting for me when I arrived.


    Living at Elite Headquarters had a lot of advantages; the biggest, in my opinion, was the abundance of food options. At school, the only place to eat was the cafeteria. They served three strictly regimented meals a day. The food wasn¡¯t bad but lacked imagination and variety, since the school valued proper diet and nutrition above all else. Donavon and I had a unique advantage over the other students at school: Mac and Gretchen lived in a house on the school¡¯s grounds. We¡¯d gone up there for dinner quite often.


    But here? That was a whole different story. The Hunters weren¡¯t the only division of The Agency housed at Elite Headquarters, so it was more like a small town than a training compound. There were caf¨¦s and snack shops spread throughout the compound, boasting a variety of foods from around the world. We also had stores that sold everything from toothpaste¡ªin case you didn¡¯t like the kind the housekeepers put in the bathrooms¡ªto small electronics.


    ¡°Hey,¡± I said, taking the empty seat across from him.


    ¡°Want to tell me about it?¡± he asked, immediately sensing my dark mood.


    ¡°No,¡± I replied a little too forcefully. ¡°I don¡¯t. Can we just eat?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Donavon took a menu out of the holder in the center of the table, and began touching the screen to make selections for both of us. When he was done, he pushed the ¡°Enter¡± button at the bottom of the screen and replaced the menu.


    ¡°Want to tell me how your practice session went?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather you tell me about your day. I don¡¯t feel much like talking.¡±


    Just then, a woman showed up with two bottles of water. Donavon thanked her.


    ¡°I will gladly tell you about my day,¡± he said, once she¡¯d left. He launched into the events of his day, embellishing a somewhat amusing story to make it hilariously funny. I smiled in spite of myself, not so much because the story was actually that funny, but because I thought it was so sweet of him to go out of his way to try and make me feel better. By the time our dinner arrived, I was in a much better mood. Donavon always had that effect on me. I felt safe when I was with him.


    After dinner, we took a walk around the compound. We were about to start our second loop of the grounds, when Donovan grabbed my hand.


    ¡°Arden and Harris went into the city and won¡¯t be back until curfew,¡± Donavon said mentally. Arden and Harris were Donavon¡¯s teammates, and therefore his cabin mates. If the food options were the greatest advantage of living at Elite Headquarters, lack of privacy was the greatest disadvantage. At school, every student had his or her own room, making it easy to spend strongly frowned-upon time with members of the opposite sex. While at school I not only had my own dorm room, but I also had my own suite of rooms at Mac and Gretchen¡¯s house. They didn¡¯t mind Donavon and me being alone together.


    ¡°Lead the way,¡± I answered.


    By the time we got back to Donavon¡¯s cabin, we only had an hour until curfew. I took off my shoes and curled up on his bed. Donavon lay down next to me and covered us with a quilt that I recognized from his house; his mom had made it for him. I laid my head on his chest. He snaked one arm around my waist and slid his hand up under the back of my shirt, resting it on the small of my back. He lightly ran his fingertips back and forth, sending chills up my spine. I raised my head and stretched up until our lips met. I kissed him softly. He moved both of his hands to my waist and pulled me on top of him. I kissed him harder. He lifted me up and flipped me over onto my back. I let out a small giggle of surprise. He leaned over me and bent his head, careful to keep his weight off me by holding himself in a push-up position. I lifted my head up to meet him halfway. He pulled back, teasing me. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to pull him back down. He was strong, and instead of allowing me to pull him back down, he reared his head and shoulders back, lifting me slightly off the bed. I released him and fell on to my back. Thinking I was clever, I gave him a quick jab with the side of my hand in the crook of his right elbow. He wasn¡¯t expecting it, and his arm gave out. He fell on top of me, just as I had anticipated. I wrapped my legs around his waist at the same time that he tried to roll himself to one side, afraid that his weight would crush me. When he rolled, I¡¯d already managed to entwine my limbs with his waist. Our combined weight¡ªmingled with the fact we were tangled in his quilt¡ªcaused us to roll right off the bed.


    I landed flat on my back. Donavon landed square on top of me. The initial jolt of hitting the wood floor jarred my bones. The shock in Donavon¡¯s eyes must have mirrored my own. Before either of us could say anything, I burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I was laughing so hard that I didn¡¯t hear the door open.


    ¡°Oops! Didn¡¯t mean to interrupt,¡± Arden¡¯s voice called.


    ¡°You¡¯re not interrupting anything,¡± Donavon grumbled, clearly annoyed.


    ¡°Hi, Talia,¡± said Harris as he waved. Harris had been a year ahead of Donavon at school, and the two had been good friends since childhood. He¡¯d always been my favorite of Donavon¡¯s friends.


    I peered around Donavon¡¯s considerably larger body and returned his wave. Harris was standing in the doorway, smirking. It wasn¡¯t the first time he had walked in on Donavon and me in a somewhat compromising situation.


    ¡°Could you two wait outside for a minute?¡± Donavon asked, agitated.


    ¡°No, no, no. You don¡¯t need to do that,¡± I said quickly. ¡°I need to get back for curfew.¡±


    Arden strolled awkwardly to his bed, trying not to look at us. Donavon untangled himself and carefully stood up. He reached his hand down to help me up. I quickly pulled my shirt back down to cover my stomach, and tried to smooth my dark curls in vain. I imagined my hair closely resembled a rat¡¯s nest.


    Harris barely stifled the laughter escaping his throat. ¡°Don¡¯t bother, Tal. It¡¯s a lost cause at this point.¡±


    Donavon grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the cabin. I gave both boys a wave as I passed.


    ¡°Are you mad at me?¡± I asked as soon as we were out the door. He stopped short, causing me to run into his back. I could feel the waves of tension rolling off of him.


    ¡°It¡¯s not you. I just get frustrated at how little alone time we have together.¡±


    ¡°I know, me, too. It¡¯ll get better,¡± I promised, even though I knew that wasn¡¯t quite true. Usually, younger Hunters and pledges lived in the cabins for years before being moved to the individual private suites that housed the rest of the operatives at Elite Headquarters.


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    Donavon started walking again. My cabin was only a short way from his, so it didn¡¯t take us long to get there. He kissed me on the cheek before saying goodnight. He started walking away, but I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to me.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t getting off that easy,¡± I proclaimed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. At first, he merely complied but soon he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him. I kissed him deeper. We heard catcalls and Donavon placed me back on my feet.


    ¡°Goodnight, Talia.¡± He turned and started walking away. ¡°I love you.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I replied.


    I looked around, seeking out the catcallers. I spotted them sitting outside of a cabin a few doors down. I gave them a rude hand gesture before walking into my cabin.


    Neither Erik nor Henri was inside, which was weird. It was so close to curfew. Sitting on my bed was a bouquet of flowers made up of vibrant blues, purples and pinks. Attached to the flowers¡¯ paper wrapping was a note with one word. ¡°Sorry.¡± They were from Erik. I rolled my eyes and dropped the beautiful flowers on to my bedside table before climbing into bed. I was so tired that I didn¡¯t hear either of the boys come in shortly thereafter.


    ***


    The morning sun streamed in through the window of the cabin, waking me early. I needed to remember to close the curtains before bed. I blinked several times, trying to clear the sleep from my eyes. I stretched, turning my head left, then right. When I looked right, I noticed that somebody had put my flowers in water in a glass vase on my bedside table. I smiled to myself. I was about to sit up when a pillow came sailing across the room, hitting me in the face. I groaned.


    ¡°Get up. We¡¯re all having breakfast together.¡± Henri¡¯s voice sounded muffled from where I lay underneath the pillow. I sat up and looked around the room.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Erik?¡± I asked, noticing immediately that he wasn¡¯t in his bed.


    ¡°Shower. He was afraid he would be resigned to taking cold showers from now on if he didn¡¯t start beating you in there,¡± Henri replied dryly. ¡°Get up and get ready. We have a lot to do today.¡±


    I groaned again, grudgingly rolled myself out of bed, and got ready. The three of us headed to Henri¡¯s favorite caf¨¦ for a bread-heavy breakfast. Erik didn¡¯t mention our fight from the day before, so I didn¡¯t bring it up either.


    Over breakfast, Henri outlined different strategies that he thought we should try and reinforced how important it was that we¡ªand by ¡°we,¡± I knew he meant me¡ªnail the three-way mental connection.


    After breakfast, I worked tirelessly trying to connect all three of our minds while we ran through combat drills, pushing myself harder than I had in the previous two weeks. A few times I was actually able to make the connection, but I was unable to hold on to it for long. By lunch, I was mentally exhausted. I wasn¡¯t sure if I could go another round in the afternoon. Thankfully, Henri had decided we would switch to the mental relaying of messages, which came easier, for our afternoon session. By the end of the day, the mental exertion, combined with the extreme physical activity, left me nearly shaking with fatigue.


    At school, students were put through rigorous training schedules, but it was nothing like what I¡¯d experienced in my short time at Elite Headquarters.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the cabin, shower, and then we can head to dinner,¡± Henri suggested after I tripped over my own feet for what seemed like the one-hundredth time that afternoon. I nodded gratefully. The only thing I wanted to do was lay down in my bed. I trailed several paces behind the boys on the way back to the cabin and followed Henri¡¯s orders.


    The boys, thankfully, let me shower first. My shaky legs didn¡¯t allow me to stay in the hot spray for as long as I would have liked; even lifting my arms over my head to wash my hair felt like too much work. Instead, I just stood under the water until I was somewhat confident that the water had washed out most of the sweat and grime. I dressed in the most comfortable cotton pants and sweater I could find in my bathroom cubby, wound my dark, wet curls into a tight bun, and was ready in record time. I stumbled out of the bathroom and curled up on my bed to wait for the boys to shower and dress.


    ¡°Let her sleep,¡± Erik urged.


    ¡°The more time we spend together, the faster she will be able to form the connection, and the easier it will be for her to hold,¡± Henri responded, a note of desperation underlying his otherwise calm voice.


    ¡°She¡¯s exhausted, Henri. You have no idea how tiring using that kind of mental energy can be,¡± Erik said in a firm, low voice.


    ¡°She needs to get this. I need her to get this,¡± Henri urged, the desperation in his voice becoming thicker.


    ¡°I understand that, but you cannot push her so hard, so fast¡ªshe¡¯ll break under the pressure,¡± Erik replied.


    I was shocked that Erik was the voice of caution. I wanted to interrupt them¡ªafter all, they were talking about me¡ªbut I couldn¡¯t muster the energy to speak.


    ¡°Let her sleep now.¡± Erik¡¯s tone was final. ¡°She¡¯s getting stronger by the day. I don¡¯t think you should push her further tonight.¡±


    Henri took a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m getting ahead of myself.¡±


    ¡°Besides, now we can go into the city for dinner.¡± Ah, that was the Erik I knew. I envisioned Henri rolling his eyes.


    Somebody, Erik by the feel of it, took the quilt from the end of my bed and covered me gently. I murmured what was meant to be ¡°thanks¡±, but sounded more like grunts and moans, and fell asleep before they made it out of the door.


    When I woke, I felt strong arms encircle my waist. I smelled the familiar sandalwood scent of the soaps Gretchen ordered from somewhere out West. I snuggled closer.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± My mental voice was sleepy and a little slurred.


    ¡°I saw Erik and Henri on their way to dinner. Erik said you weren¡¯t feeling well, so I figured I would check on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay. Just really tired. Long day.¡±


    ¡°Go back to sleep,¡± Donovan said, smoothing the wet pieces of hair that had escaped my bun back from my face.


    ¡°Are you going to stay?¡± I asked hopefully.


    ¡°For a little while.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I knew this wasn¡¯t really Donavon¡¯s idea of quality alone time, but I also knew that I would sleep better if he were here. Donavon¡¯s arms tightened around me, and he nuzzled his face in my neck. I fell back asleep, smiling.


    Donavon coming into my cabin brought back the memory of the first night he ever snuck into my room to sleep with me. It was on the eve of my first day as a student and my nerves had refused to let me sleep. I tossed and turned in my too-big bed, hoping that all of the movement would wear me out. It was well past the time where one day ends and the next begins, when I opened my mind and reached out to Donavon. We had worked all summer seeing how far I could stretch my mental reach. The distance between our bedrooms was nothing compared to what I knew I could achieve.


    ¡°Are you awake?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Yup. Are you having trouble sleeping, too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m nervous about tomorrow,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°Hold on.¡±


    Not even a minute later, I heard Donavon¡¯s light footsteps in my sitting room. I mentally unlocked the door to my bedroom, prodding it open just a crack for him. He opened it the rest of the way and silently crept towards my bed. The bedsprings depressed under his weight as he stretched out on the empty half.


    ¡°Why are you so nervous?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been to school before.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t like a normal school. Everybody there is like you. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Mac said nobody would be like me,¡± I said accusingly.


    ¡°Well, not exactly like you, no,¡± he amended. ¡°Nobody there does mind manipulation. But there will be other kids that can move stuff with their minds like you, and I think even one or two that can read minds.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I dared to hope that I was finally going to be ¡°normal¡±, so to speak.


    ¡°Really,¡± Donovan confirmed.


    ¡°I won¡¯t know anybody.¡±


    ¡°You know me, and I know everybody. My friends will be your friends.¡±


    I grinned in the dark. I couldn¡¯t make out his features from where I lay, yet I knew that he could make out mine. He reached out and held one of my hands in his warm, soft palm.


    ¡°Open your mind and close your eyes.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I asked, suspiciously.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you trust me?¡± He sounded a little wounded.


    ¡°Of course I trust you,¡± I answered quickly, afraid that I¡¯d hurt his feelings.


    ¡°Okay, then open your mind and close your eyes.¡±


    Hesitantly, I closed my eyes¡ªI knew that he would be able to tell if I didn¡¯t¡ªand removed the remaining barriers to my mind. He began mentally humming an old bedtime song, one my mother used to sing to me. I didn¡¯t know the words, but the melody was soft and comforting. Before I knew it, I drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

 The One Where It Starts To Get Real

    The days quickly began to run together, one day morphing into the next, until I lost all concept of time and days of the week. Each day was the same as the one before. Henri had been right¡ªthe more time I spent with them, the easier it was for me to create and hold the three-way mental connection. However, the mental bond didn¡¯t come without a price. I was directing so much energy to my mental abilities that my balance and coordination were off, and my other senses suffered. At the end of each day, every inch of my body hurt, even my eyelashes. But thankfully, I was so exhausted that I fell instantly asleep every night.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve been wondering why I¡¯m pushing you so hard, so fast,¡± Henri said one morning over a breakfast of fatty strips of bacon and goopy eggs. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been for nothing.¡± He paused for dramatic effect.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t keep us in suspense,¡± Erik said sarcastically. He clearly knew where this was going.


    Henri gave him a pointed look. ¡°Captain Alvarez and Director McDonough have been so impressed with the progress that Talia is making that they have given us our first hunting assignment.¡±


    My eyes grew wide with shock that quickly turned to excitement. As a pledge, I would be participating in several hunts prior to my actual graduation from school. But I hadn¡¯t imagined that it would happen so soon. I knew from Donavon that none of the other pledges had been assigned a mission yet.


    ¡°Tell me all about it,¡± I squealed, not bothering to hide my enthusiasm.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have the specifics yet, but it¡¯s a pretty simple assignment. There is some information TOXIC wants, and we need to retrieve it¡ªpreferably undetected. I should know more in a couple of days.¡±


    ¡°How does it all work?¡± I pressed. Donavon had been telling me about hunting missions since the day I went to live with the McDonough''s, but I was so eager that I wanted Henri to tell me all over again.


    ¡°The Brains will give us information on the location and the people involved. Then we stake out the location for a couple of days. We¡¯ll make sure that all of the information we have is accurate and see what else we can learn. After that, we go in, get what we came for, and get out before anyone notices we were there.¡±


    ¡°Sounds pretty simple,¡± I observed.


    ¡°Should be. These assignments are usually given to teams with pledges. But that doesn¡¯t mean that there aren¡¯t risks, so keep your excitement in check and take this seriously,¡± Henri warned.


    I put everything I had into training that day. I pushed my mental and physical limits to just-short of their breaking points. My excitement was fueling my adrenaline, and I barely felt fatigued at the end of practice.


    After we had finished for the day, I ran straight to Donavon¡¯s cabin. Our schedules were so strenuous that I¡¯d barely seen him in the past couple of weeks. I wanted to tell him that I¡¯d gotten my first assignment. I knocked on his door, impatiently tapping my foot.


    Harris answered. ¡°Hey, Tal, come on in,¡± he greeted me, holding the door open. ¡°I was just heading to dinner, so I¡¯ll leave you two alone.¡±


    I waved dismissively at Harris as I locked eyes with Donavon. He was sitting on his bed, so I skipped over and gave him a big hug.


    ¡°You¡¯re in a great mood,¡± he remarked.


    ¡°I got my first assignment!¡±


    ¡°Congrats.¡± He sounded tired, and not nearly as enthusiastic as I¡¯d hoped.


    ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t be so excited, but this is my first step toward really doing something, you know?¡± I tried to backpedal, embarrassed by my elation.


    ¡°We should celebrate,¡± Donavon answered, trying to match my mood.


    ¡°What do you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°How about tonight we go for a picnic dinner down by the lake? Then, tomorrow I¡¯ll take you into D.C.?¡±


    I frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to go into the city, remember?¡±


    ¡°I bet if you call Dad he¡¯ll authorize it. We¡¯ll worry about it tomorrow, though. Tonight, I just want to be alone with you.¡±


    I beamed. I wanted to be alone with him, too. Erik¡¯s words about special favors from Mac ran through my head, and I knew I couldn¡¯t ask for permission to go to Washington. Mac would authorize it if I asked, but I didn¡¯t want to give anyone more ammunition against me. I would worry about that tomorrow.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± I leaned down and kissed Donavon.


    We got hot turkey-gravy sandwiches, cranberry juice, and thick pieces of carrot cake¡ªmy favorite¡ªat one of the caf¨¦, and took the dinner and blankets to the lake. The lake here was much smaller than the lake at school, but it was still my favorite place at Elite Headquarters. We ate our sandwiches in comfortable silence, and I somehow managed not to spill any of the gravy on my shirt. The sun was going down on the other side of the lake. It was just at the height where it appeared to be sitting half in the water and half out. The temperature was perfect, and I felt comfortable in a short-sleeved shirt and light-weight pants. In short, everything about the night seemed perfect.


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    ¡°Fancy a swim?¡± Donavon asked after we ate, twirling one of my curls around his finger.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a suit,¡± I replied absently.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need one.¡±


    I snapped my head towards him and narrowed my eyes, understanding that by ¡°swim¡± he actually meant ¡°let¡¯s get naked¡±.


    ¡°You first,¡± I dared him with a confidence that I didn¡¯t feel.


    Donavon stood and stripped down to his underwear without hesitation. I tried to wiggle my eyebrows suggestively at him, as I¡¯d seen other girls do when they were flirting, but I felt more like my face was in spasms. It was a warm night, but not warm enough to be standing around practically naked. I could see the gooseflesh springing up across Donavon¡¯s exposed skin. I suddenly felt very nervous.


    ¡°Come on, Tal, your turn.¡±


    I hesitated. Donavon had seen me in my bathing suit on numerous occasions, but he¡¯d never actually seen me in my underwear. The mental and emotional connections that we shared were more intense than I imagined most people experienced in their lives, but our physical relationship was somewhat less evolved. I thought I wanted more, yet something always held me back. I knew that Donavon wanted more, and until recently, he¡¯d made every effort to keep his real thoughts from me. Lately though, his teenage hormones were overriding his regard for my feelings.


    Slowly, I stood and lifted my arms over my head. Donavon gripped the bottom of my shirt and took his time as he lifted it over my head. I had to remind myself to breathe normally, but my nervousness wouldn¡¯t let me. I reached for the drawstring on my pants, but my hands were numb, and I couldn¡¯t get the tie undone. Donavon gently pulled my fingers away. He knelt in front of me and kissed the space just below my bellybutton. I hugged my arms across my chest to keep from shaking. I held my breath as he untied the string, and the pants fell in a pool around my feet.


    Donavon held his hand out. I uncrossed my arms and took it, stepping out of the black fabric puddled around my ankles. I was trembling from head to toe. I was scared to meet his eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s just me, Tal. You don¡¯t need to be nervous.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°Look at me, Tal.¡± He was still on his knees. For once, I looked down at him instead of up. He wrapped his hands around my waist. His fingers felt warm against my bare skin. His light blue eyes clouded over and became heavy with longing. He looked me up and down, making me more self-conscious.


    ¡°So, I kinda assume we aren¡¯t actually swimming?¡± I tried to joke, attempting to mask my unease.


    ¡°No, no swimming.¡± His mental voice was husky.


    In one motion, he swept me off my feet and up into his arms. A nervous giggle escaped my lips. He laid me down on the blanket and leaned over me. He covered us both with the quilt he¡¯d taken from his bed. Donavon propped himself up on one elbow and bent over to plant his lips firmly on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, trying to match the intensity of his kiss. He ran the fingertips of his free hand lightly down my side, and the sensation made me shiver. His finger toyed with the edge of my boring cotton underwear. I immediately shrank away from his touch.


    Donavon pulled back. His eyes found mine. ¡°You still aren¡¯t sure about this, are you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Donavon.¡± I tried to look away. ¡°I just don¡¯t think I¡¯m ready.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Tal. I don¡¯t want you to do anything you aren¡¯t ready for.¡± He may have said it was okay, but I could tell that he didn¡¯t mean it. I could hear, and feel, the frustration dripping from each word. We¡¯d been having this conversation a lot lately.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Donavon.¡± I meant it. I was sorry. Sorry that we had to keep repeating this same conversation.


    ¡°Stop,¡± his mental voice demanded. ¡°Stop apologizing. It just makes me feel bad. Just give me a minute.¡± He rolled over on to his back and took several deep breaths. I waited, my whole body tense, for him to say something, anything. Finally, he turned his head back to the side and met my eyes.


    ¡°Come here.¡±


    I crawled into his open arms. We lay like that for hours. He let his hands roam every once in a while, testing the waters. He ran his fingertips along my spine, down my arm, through my hair, across my cheek. While I could still feel his longing bubbling under the surface, I knew that he had no intention of trying anything else tonight. He didn¡¯t want to face rejection twice in one evening.


    I don¡¯t know what kept holding me back. I loved Donavon. I mean, I think I loved Donavon. From the first time I saw him, I had felt drawn to him. He was more than my boyfriend¡ªhe was my best friend. Granted, he was my only friend. Still, I knew that I wanted to be with him and only him. But for now, this was the intimacy I needed.


    It must¡¯ve been a mixture of anticipation earlier, coupled with all the craziness from the last couple of weeks, that set my nerves on edge, I reasoned with myself. Next time, I would be ready, or maybe the time after that¡­.


    ¡°I think we should head back,¡± Donavon said, after we had been laying there until well after curfew.


    ¡°Do we have to? If Henri is going to be mad at me, he¡¯s probably already mad at me. So, I might as well just stay out. Unless you¡¯re tired of me?¡± I teased him.


    ¡°I never get tired of you.¡± He sounded sincere.


    ¡°Good.¡± I smiled, not realizing until just then how worried I¡¯d been.


    ¡°But I really should get you back. Henri might be a little upset about you missing curfew, but he¡¯ll be furious if you don¡¯t come home at all,¡± Donavon reasoned. He got up and put on his rumpled clothes. Reluctantly, I followed suit.


    ¡°Tal?¡± he called hesitantly.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°I really do love you. I hope you know that.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    Donavon walked me back to my cabin and kissed me goodbye. I eased the door open as slowly and quietly as I could manage. I slipped off my leather flip-flops and crept across the wooden floor boards on my toes. I lowered myself into bed, willing the springs not to squeak. I let out a sigh as my head made contact with the pillow. I was sure that Henri would ream me in the morning, but at least I could go to sleep in peace.


    ¡°Natalia?¡± Henri¡¯s voice cut through the silence.


    Crap.


    ¡°Yes?¡± I replied tentatively.


    ¡°This is your one pass. Don¡¯t miss curfew again.¡± He was trying to sound stern.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said quietly, trying to sound humble. ¡°Henri?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, Tal?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I seemed to be saying that a lot tonight.


    ¡°I know.¡±

 The One With The Hovercraft

    ¡°Get up. Get up. Get up,¡± Erik sang the next morning.


    ¡°Go away. Go away. Go away,¡± I groaned, covering my head with a pillow.


    ¡°Go away?¡± he scoffed. ¡°We have a big day ahead of us, and the sooner you get up, the sooner we can get it started.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my day off,¡± I whined.


    ¡°We have a surprise for you,¡± he tempted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like surprises,¡± I countered.


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be a surprise if you had made curfew last night,¡± Henri cut in dryly.


    Guilt washed over me. I groaned again and threw the pillow in the direction that I judged Erik¡¯s voice to be coming from.


    ¡°Nice. All that sensory deprivation training really paid off,¡± Erik commended me as the pillow hit him with a soft thud.


    ¡°Thanks. Now, tell me my surprise,¡± I demanded, sitting up.


    ¡°You¡¯re so bossy in the morning,¡± Erik teased.


    ¡°We¡¯re taking you to D.C. for the day,¡± Henri announced.


    ¡°I¡¯m not allowed to go to the city, remember? I¡¯m just a lowly pledge.¡± I tried not to sound too disappointed.


    ¡°I already cleared it with Captain Alvarez, who in turn called the Director, who, of course, said you could go,¡± Henri replied dismissively.


    I expected Erik to make a snide remark, but for once he kept his mouth shut.


    ¡°Wow. Thanks, Henri.¡± Now I felt even worse about missing curfew last night.


    ¡°You can only come for the day,¡± he warned. ¡°The Director wouldn¡¯t budge on letting you stay down there after dark.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. I¡¯m just so excited to get to go at all!¡± I exclaimed, jumping out of my bed.


    ¡°Then get ready already so we can leave,¡± Erik urged.


    I squealed happily and skipped to the bathroom.


    I absentmindedly hurried through my morning routine and opened up my mind to find Donavon. I could tell he was awake and in his cabin.


    ¡°Hey, guess what?¡± I sent.


    ¡°What?¡± His mental voice sounded sleepy, so I assumed he¡¯d just woken up.


    ¡°Henri cleared it with your Dad. I get to go to the city today!¡±


    ¡°With Henri and Erik?¡± He didn¡¯t sound happy.


    ¡°Well, yeah. I guess so we can spend bonding time, or whatever.¡± I tried to sound offhand, but I was really excited and I didn¡¯t want him ruining my mood.


    ¡°Oh, well, have fun, I guess,¡± he said, obviously irritated.


    ¡°I know you were hoping we could go together, but Henri went through the trouble of going to the Captain and calling your Dad¡­.¡± I started to apologize.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll take you another time,¡± he cut me off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come find you when I get back,¡± I promised.


    ¡°Yeah, whatever.¡±


    I closed my mind again. He was killing my happy buzz.


    Elite Headquarters is located in West Virginia, about one hundred miles west of the nation¡¯s capital. The actual compound sat on several hundred acres of what used to be farmland but now boasted the latest and greatest technology that the world had to offer. The compound¡¯s stores sell anything a pledge or operative needs. In Washington, D.C., you could buy anything imaginable, and probably many things that I couldn¡¯t imagine. Erik, like many of the other operatives, frequented the city bars to pick up girls. However, pledges weren¡¯t usually allowed to visit the city, even on our days off. The idea was that pledges stationed at various other locations weren¡¯t afforded the same luxuries, so it wasn¡¯t fair.


    As a child, my parents and I had traveled constantly, never staying in one location for more than a couple of months. Since coming to live with Mac and his family, my travels have been limited. My relocation trip to Elite Headquarters was the first time I¡¯ve left the School¡¯s grounds since arriving there seven years ago. The notion that a large city existed, only a hover-ride away, has been making me restless.


    Donavon had completed his pledge year and graduated from school the year before. Since becoming a full-fledged Hunter, he had been taking full advantage of his newfound freedom. Sometimes, he brought me flaky pastries filled with chocolate or strawberry cream from the bakeries. Other times, he brought back lengths of embroidered silks to take home to Gretchen, so she could have outfits made for me. When he was feeling uninspired, he simply bought trinkets from the street vendors.


    Henri had reserved a hover-car for the day to drive the three of us the one hundred miles to Washington. I kept my face glued to the cold glass, watching as the dense woods surrounding Headquarters gave way to small farms and spread-out houses. We were still twenty miles outside of the city when the buildings became more dense and elaborate. The roadways beneath us were packed with bumper-to-bumper road vehicles. From our vantage point in the air, I suddenly saw the city materialize beneath us. I stared down in wonder.


    When we reached the outskirts of D.C., we flew straight through the border checkpoint without stopping. Ordinarily, all vehicles¡ªboth road and hover¡ªneed to stop, and the occupants are required to show identification. However, as we were in a clearly marked Agency car, we were able to sail through without pausing.


    I was overwhelmed the moment we landed. The buildings were tall and packed so close together; there was no space to walk in-between and the height restrictions were long forgotten. Most of the buildings were made of diffractive glass that changed color depending on where you stood. The architectural style varied from one building to the next, with no two looking exactly alike. I saw some buildings that were short and square, some tall and thin, and several topped with elaborate sphere-like structures. I even saw one hexagon-shaped building with a moving walkway that snaked around the periphery, taking people from street level all the way to the pinnacle. A sky railway arched high above the busy ground walkways, connecting the buildings.


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    The sky was dotted with small hover-cars¡ªthe primary mode of transportation; although, the streets inside D.C. were just as packed with road mobiles as the beltways surrounding the city. The population was so great that the occupants needed both types of cars to get around in a timely fashion.


    The men and women walking the streets were dressed in beautiful, albeit colorful, outfits. Many of the younger people had brightly colored hair that was dyed to match their clothing. I noticed a large number of people with unnatural eye colors similar to Erik¡¯s and mine. It wasn¡¯t rare to have untraditional eye colors. In fact, I was unsure why people still referred to my eye color as unnatural. Donavon had told me it was common for city kids to have their eye pigment altered, or in less extreme cases, wear colored lenses to get the ¡°unnatural¡± hue.


    The older women in Washington¡¯s shopping district wore vibrant silk dresses and intricately carved wooden high-heeled shoes. Many wore ropes of colored, glass stones around their necks and varying sizes of adornments in their ears. Some of the wealthier women even had glass beads braided into exquisite up-dos or bird feathers crowning their heads.


    Working-class men and women pushed their way through the crowded sidewalks, wearing cheaply made business attire in varying shades of gray and navy. They ducked into sandwich shops and greasy fast-food joints, trying to find the most expedient place to get food on their lunch breaks that were far too short. All of the women wore makeup. The older women seemed to favor simple shades that accentuated their natural features. Younger women, and even some teenagers, sported makeup so thick that their faces looked more like painted masks, designed to look like a caricature of the real person underneath.


    I felt extremely plain and naked in my navy cotton dress, thong sandals, and makeup-free face. At least I had my purplish-blue eyes and long spiral curls going for me. I did have more elaborate clothes in my closet at Headquarters, but I usually shied away from wearing them since none of the other pledges or operatives ever wore anything exciting.


    ¡°What do you think, Tals?¡± Erik interrupted my gazing.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± I replied honestly.


    ¡°Far cry from school, huh?¡±


    ¡°Sure is,¡± I agreed softly.


    The boys promised me a tour of their favorite places, and I¡¯d been worried that meant I would be spending the day becoming acquainted with the city¡¯s drinking establishments. My fears were put to rest when our first stop was a candy store. Erik showed me how to use the computer to design my own taffy flavors. We watched as large metal claws pulled and stretched long pieces of taffy, mixing and melding them to create my custom candies.


    After the candy store, our next stop was the Air, Space, and Technology Museum. There was a tour starting just as we passed through the entrance scanners. I figured we¡¯d join the group. Instead, we walked straight past the throng of people towards the first exhibit. It turned out that Henri was a frequent enough museum patron that he gave the tour better than any guide.


    For the rest of the morning, I followed the boys in and out of game shops, techie boutiques, clothing stores and several establishments that sold questionably legal merchandise. I tried to take it all in, but I was on sensory overload.


    After a full morning of shopping, we stopped for lunch at a restaurant that claimed to have ¡°The Best Apple Pie in the District¡±. There were so many cakes and pies on the menu that I considered just ordering dessert for lunch¡ªthen decided against spending the afternoon with a stomachache. I¡¯d never heard of many of the dishes on the menu, so I settled on cold octopus soup with spinach bread. Both the School and Headquarters rarely served any seafood, and I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while in D.C.


    ¡°What else do you want to see before we go back?¡± Henri asked as we finished lunch.


    ¡°Can we see the ocean?¡± I asked hopefully. I knew the city was not actually near the ocean¡ªit was about another one hundred miles or so east¡ªyet I hoped that since we had the hover-car, it wouldn¡¯t be a problem. Driving on the road, the trip would take hours, but in a hover-car we could get there in just thirty minutes.


    ¡°I guess we could do that,¡± Henri answered with a shrug. ¡°Erik¡ªany complaints?¡±


    ¡°Have at it. You can take her to the ocean if you want. I think this might be where we part ways,¡± Erik answered.


    ¡°Do you have something better to do?¡± I demanded, for some reason offended that he wanted to run off so soon.


    ¡°Actually, I do.¡±


    I scowled at him. ¡°Fine. Be that way.¡± I turned to Henri, ¡°You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. Erik, I¡¯ll meet up with you later tonight?¡± he asked.


    Erik nodded before heading out of the restaurant.


    Henri led me back to the towering, aboveground parking garage where we¡¯d left the hover-mobile, and we set off for the short trip to the beach. Even though it had been over one hundred years since the nuclear reactors had leaked waste contaminating the planet¡¯s oceans, very few people risked swimming. Instead, most people favored lakes and ponds¡ªfresh bodies of water that didn¡¯t connect to the ocean. As a result, the Eastern Shore beaches were relatively empty, and we were able to land the hover-mobile right in the sand. I impatiently waited for Henri to pop the glass covering. Once he did, I kicked off my shoes and jumped over the side of the car, landing in the soft sand.


    I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes. The smell of saltwater and seaweed filled my nostrils. I inhaled a little deeper and concentrated my mental energy towards expanding my sense of smell. I could pick up traces of fish and kelp mixed with oil from the fishing boats. I found it contradictory that people would eat the ocean life, but refused to swim in the water. I exhaled happily.


    The breeze coming off the water was cool, but the sand was warm from the afternoon sun. I dropped to my knees and picked up handful after handful of sand, letting it trickle through my splayed fingers. If I kept my eyes closed, I could pretend that I was a little girl on the rocky beach of Capri.


    When I was very young, before we started moving around, my family lived in a stone house built into the bluffs overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. My mother would take me down to the beach at the base of the bluffs and let me play in the pinkish-orange sand. I would collect bottles of the sand and take it back to the house. I painstakingly sorted out the pink and orange grains under a magnifying lens. My mother knew that the colored sand was a byproduct of the ocean contamination, but she never ruined my fascination by revealing the truth.


    The sand on the beach at the Eastern Shore was not pink or orange but rather a dark brownish-black. The water here was also a dark, muddy brown¡ªa stark contrast to the clear, sparkling water of the Tyrrhenian Sea. I kept my eyes closed and walked towards the sound of the waves lapping the shore. I heard Henri calling my name over the breaking of the waves, warning me not to get in the water. I ignored his counsel and walked until I could feel the water swirling around my ankles. I stood there inhaling the salty spray until my feet had sunk so deeply into the wet sand that Henri had to help me out.


    As the sun began to sink lower behind us, I knew my time at the beach had come to an end. Mac had said I needed to be back by dark, and I didn¡¯t want Henri getting in trouble on my account. We rode back to Headquarters in silence.


    ¡°Thanks for today,¡± I said sincerely, when we pulled into the parking bay of Elite Headquarters.


    ¡°You deserve it; you¡¯ve been working so hard.¡±


    ¡°I still appreciate it. It was nice of you to go to the trouble of getting permission from the Captain to let me go.¡± I didn¡¯t want him to think I expected special treatment because of Mac or Donavon or whomever else.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a big deal. After all, being practically related to the Director does have its perks.¡± He winked at me to let me know he was, at least, partially joking.


    I smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll see you later.¡±


    I jumped out and watched as he took off back to the city to join Erik for the evening.