Fated: The Epic Finale (Talented Saga Book 8) Read online

  Two hours ago? How long had the attack lasted?

  What time is it there? I wondered. What time is it here?

  We’d left London early in the morning. Because of the time differences, we’d teleported five hours backward when we jumped to western Maryland. The math hurt my head, and I rubbed my temples.

  “Yes, please look,” I answered Michael in a small voice.

  He turned and began typing on a portable. Mr. Kelley cleared his throat, drawing my attention his way.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” he asked me softly. “This means nothing right now, nothing is certain.”

  Did I want to hear Michael say my friends were dead? Of course not. But worry consumed my gut like a virus. Knowing whether Frederick and Henri were alive would slow the spread of the disease.

  “I can’t not know,” I told him honestly.

  We stared at one another, empathy radiating from Erik’s father in suffocating waves. It took Michael less than a minute to search the casualty list, but it felt like I aged decades before he finally looked up.

  “Neither of your friends has been reported on the casualty list,” he said with measured words.

  Michael phrased his response to remind me not to get my hopes up. I couldn’t help it, though. Next to learning Penny was alive and safe—if she’d stepped in for her uncle, she also had a guard detail—learning Frederick and Henri weren’t dead was the best news I’d heard all day.

  “Thank you,” I said to Michael, my smile genuine.

  He gave a small nod and deftly switched gears. “Is there anything else you can tell me from your interrogation of the Privileged girl?”

  I started to shake my head and then remembered something.

  “France,” I blurted. “Gretchen is based in France.”

  Michael’s expression turned pensive, though I couldn’t tell whether the admission surprised him.

  “We did lose contact with a team of agents sent to investigate events in rural France,” he muttered. Then, as if worried he’d said too much, Michael met my gaze squarely. “I will look into the matter personally.”

  The conversation was ending. I’d left out several important details about Gracia. Like the fact she was my doppelganger. And the traps Gretchen had placed inside her head—traps meant for me. Erik hadn’t said as much, but I knew Gretchen well enough to know she would’ve made them personal. She was thoughtful like that.

  And she knows you, I reminded myself.

  “Natalia?”

  My name drew me from my thoughts. I refocused on Michael. “Yes?”

  “What are you not telling me?” He spoke softly, soothingly. Coaxingly. If he’d been a Mind Manipulator, I would’ve sworn he used compulsion.

  I swallowed hard, nearly choking on the truth.

  “She’s coming for me.”

  The whispered words bounced off the kitchen walls and smacked me across the face. Expression blank, I stared into Michael’s dark eyes without really seeing him. My mind was lost in the past, in memories of Gretchen teaching me to use my powers.

  “She wants us all. Erik, Alex, Penny, and all the others on Nightshade’s list.” My voice was hollow, robotic. Mr. Kelley and Michael exchanged glances.

  “She needs our blood for her army of idiots,” I continued. Leaning forward, I focused my gaze directly on Michael’s holographic eyes. “It’s different with me, though.”

  It took several swallows to get words past the lump in my throat.

  “With me, it’s personal.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Cressa

  “It was a sim,” Kev said for the fourth time. “It wasn’t real, it didn’t happen.”

  “But it felt real.” Cressa was curled into herself, hearing her parents’ scathing words playing over and over again. Was it possible they really thought she was selfish?

  Kev patted her knee, as if reminding Cressa what real felt like. “They were just trying to scare you into activating your latent talent. You haven’t truly seen your parents, you were always here.”

  “I was Gretchen,” she stuttered. Cressa’s sapphire eyes overflowed with tears, adding a new rivulet to the ones streaming down her face. “They made me into her clone.”

  Swiping at her nose to curtail the snot, Cressa shuddered at the memory. Kev slid an arm around her back and pulled Cressa into his lap. She was shocked by the contact but immediately felt calm.

  “That’s how the Dame’s tricks work,” he soothed. “You were physically here, just run through a sim. She must be desperate to find out what you can do.”

  Cressa leaned her head in the crook of Kev’s neck, inhaling his pine-tree scent. How could she trust her own brain to know what was real if the Privileged could trigger such real experiences? One of her fingers brushed against the bare skin of Kev’s collarbone. It was definitely there, the current of the contact was palpable. As if sensing her thoughts, he pinched her arm gently.

  “See?” Kev asked. “You’re here, I’m here.”

  Before Cressa could reply, the door swung open. She scurried back from Kev’s embrace in time to catch Leslie Abbott’s amused expression. Leslie was an older, higher-ranking cadet and a clear favorite of the Privileged Institute. She was also a former child star, like Kev, though most of her roles had been nearly a decade before.

  “Cadet Karmine, you’re needed in testing room four,” Leslie announced.

  “I have an advancement exam?” Cressa looked at Kev uncertainly. “Now?”

  “Sort of,” the 8P replied, waving a hand dismissively. “Come on.”

  Kev tugged Cressa’s arm, locking her gaze with his.

  “I’ll be right here as soon as you’re done,” he assured. “You’ve got this.”

  Pushing herself to her feet, Cressa trudged out the door and followed the 8P to another med cube. Leslie handed her a green cotton jumpsuit.

  “I can’t just wear my uniform?” Cressa asked, confused.

  “What you can’t do is ask questions.” Laced with contempt, Leslie’s tone halted further protests.

  She threw the gown on a small metal table, and then yanked the privacy curtain closed. While Cressa changed, her heart sped like galloping horses. Dread seemed a sunny and pleasant emotion compared to the emotions warring within Cressa.

  Leslie led her to a mostly darkened exam room, similar to the location of her 1P advancement. Cressa couldn’t believe it was already time for the 2P exam. She’d barely thought about her new powers since receiving the second talent signature injection. Cressa had been a little busy with other things and had barely practiced using electrical manipulation. Did the Institute really expect her to have suddenly mastered them? Was she expected to just become invisible without any help?

  Cressa turned to her escort and waited for instructions. With a long, pitying stare, Leslie turned on her heel and exited the room. The door slammed shut behind her, followed by the unmistakable click of a lock engaging. She’d left Cressa alone with no instructions, no information, no words at all.

  Given the room’s shadows, Cressa wondered if she was supposed to turn the lights on and off. Not by flicking a switch, like the 1P exam, but controlling the flow of electricity instead. She’d successfully done that in the tunnels, though there was a lot more pressure then. Still, a spark of optimism shot through Cressa. She could do this.

  That hope was dashed when all the room’s bulbs illuminated without her help. The sudden brightness was disorienting. Cressa blinked rapidly. That’s when she realized there was a bench in the middle of the room with a small pile of random items atop it.

  She crossed the concrete floor and sat on the bench, wondering exactly what her testing task would be. Were they wanting to see her telekinetic progress? Cressa hadn’t had any time to work on that either, though she felt more confident than she would’ve if it were a light manipulation exam.

  An urge to lay down overtook her, and Cressa stretched out on the bench. She was painfully tired. Why hadn’t the Dame allow
ed any time for her to rest? Between the escape attempt, watching the rescue mission in the Dame’s lair, and the sim to discover her latent talent, it felt like years had passed since Cressa last slept. She closed her eyes, feeling like the weight of the past week had compounded into exhaustion all at once.

  Laughter woke her. The room was still empty, and there hadn’t been any indication someone was on the room’s speaker line, no exam instructions yet.

  Where was the noise coming from?

  Once she knew the answer, Cressa desperately wished she didn’t. One of the mirrored walls switched to view mode, the glass clearing into an ordinary pane. A whole room of Privileged sat on the other side of the glass, most looking amused by her impromptu nap.

  Why on earth would the Dame use a 2P advancement exam as a demonstration? Cressa’s whole body tensed as she took in the dozens of eyeballs fixed on her. This was going to be so embarrassing. What if she failed miserably? They were already laughing at her for closing her eyes, what would they do once she proved she had no mastery of light manipulation?

  Cressa sat up and picked up a small, blue ball from the pile of items on the bench. Was she supposed to make it disappear? Climbing to her feet, Cressa stood on the bench and tossed the ball back and forth. When would the instructions begin? Though she wasn’t prepared, Cressa wanted to get this over with. Idly, she added another ball to the first in her hands.

  Leaning over, she picked up a hat from the bench and placed it on her head. The movement was already done before the truth dawned upon Cressa. She was standing on a bench with a full audience, juggling the two balls while wearing a ridiculous hat. The jumpsuit she’d been given was green.

  Green like a frog.

  “No!” Cressa screamed. The sound was cut short, her mouth closing until only a muffled shriek could be heard.

  Shame flooded Cressa. The looks of contempt from the other side of the glass came into focus, and she realized what they were seeing: a dismissed Privileged being used as a guinea pig because she was unworthy of continuing within the program.

  How did this happen? Cressa wondered frantically.

  Was it because her latent talent never showed? Cressa focused inward, praying she could somehow find her natural talent. Would they allow her back as a cadet if she pulled it from within? Would the Dame change her mind about Cressa’s frog status? What had gone so wrong?

  Her racing thoughts were so consuming, Cressa became aware of a presence in her mind. It was pushing, threatening to overtake her. Fists balled tightly, she fought the urge to hop on one leg. As if her legs were leaden, she struggled to step down from the bench. A glance at her audience tapered Cressa’s resolve. They were all rooting for the person who was invading her mind. Did anyone care that she’d been one of them just hours before?

  Realizing that she’d only managed to step down with one leg, Cressa focused her energy on getting the other one next to it. Her brain screamed for her body to comply. When it did, Cressa ended up in a wilted crouch on the floor.

  You look like a frog, she thought, tears springing to her eyes.

  As the streams overflowed, Cressa’s shoulders heaved. Roaring laughter ripped from the watching classroom. Just when she thought her humiliation had peaked, two of the other walls switched to viewing mode.

  There were three entire rooms of people watching her.

  Why? Her brain screamed.

  The giggles were coming from all directions, surrounding her. She clapped her hands over her ears, praying for it to stop.

  Sobs racked her body. Cressa curled up on the ground, making herself as small as possible. When the final wall adjusted to show who was on the other side, she wished she could simply disappear. Was this her punishment for not wanting to be Gretchen’s clone? Cressa just wanted to be herself before. Now, she wanted to be anyone else.

  Kev was standing only inches from the glass, his look of disdain palpable. A hot knife sliced through Cressa’s heart. Pity would’ve been better. Anything would’ve been better. Would this be the last time she saw Kev? Would Gretchen throw her in an electric cage with the other discarded Privileged, only being trotted out to be used as an experiment?

  Nothing else to lose, Cressa climbed to her feet. The presence was still there in her mind, but fainter. She shoved it aside.

  “What do you want from me?” she roared. Anger overtook everything else, and Cressa straightened her back. “Just tell me what you want!”

  A tittering sound drew her attention away from Kev, to the room full of cadets she was trying to ignore. Using her rage, Cressa shot a stream of energy to the controls for the walls. The glass went from clear to opaque, then darkened to an impenetrable black. Several of the overhead bulbs shattered, and the room fell into shadows again.

  People were no longer visible in three of the four spaces, though she’d left the last one clear. Cressa approached the window to the last room. Holding her palm flat against the glass, she locked eyes with the movie star.

  Though Kev’s mouth didn’t move, Cressa heard his voice. Was it in her mind? The presence was back.

  Is that you? She thought the words, wondering if that was how it worked.

  Of course, he replied.

  What is happening? How are you doing this? Why was I dismissed? How do I fix this?

  Cressa’s thoughts fired so quickly, she simply shoved them all his way.

  You simply aren’t Privileged material. Kev shrugged, an apathetic expression on his gorgeous face.

  What happened to him? Cressa wondered. She realized too late that he would hear that as well.

  I just became Privileged. I am going to help the Dame save the world. First, I just had to pass the manipulation exam.

  Bile rose in Cressa’s throat. As if her humiliating status wasn’t enough, the Dame had used her as Kev’s test dummy? She leaned over, willing the vomit back down. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and Cressa watched the small puddle forming on the concrete. This wasn’t how the Institute was supposed to work. She was supposed to be part of the new world order, not a prisoner with no future.

  From her hunched position, Cressa met Kev’s eyes through the glass.

  Just tell me what you want from me, she pleaded.

  His expression was cold as Kev shrugged again.

  I don’t want anything from you.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erik

  “Dad,” I breathed. My father stood from the kitchen table, and I walked straight into his arms.

  I hadn’t realized how worried I was about him until that moment—once I knew he and Alex were off the islands, I hadn’t been able to allow the mental energy for it.

  My father clapped me on the back and squeezed tightly.

  “Evan and Edmond?” I asked.

  I’d barely seen my brothers since we’d moved to Eden. Both had taken positions with UNITED, so they weren’t home when I’d returned to the islands for brief stints between peace rallies.

  “They’re both fine,” Dad promised, pulling back from the embrace to look me over.

  “Stay in touch, Natalia,” said a soft voice.

  I glanced over and saw Michael Tanaka’s holographic image hovering over the table. He gave me a small smile. “It is nice to see you are well, Erik. “

  “You too, sir,” I replied.

  With a quick look at Alpha and Epsilon, Talia said her goodbyes and disconnected.

  “It’s good to see you, son.” Dad beamed at me, relief plain in his expression. He glanced to where Alpha and Epsilon stood with large coolers. “Who are your friends?”

  Alpha walked forward confidently and extended her bony hand.

  “Alpha One, sir,” she said politely.

  “Earon Kelley,” my father replied, his expression carefully blank.

  Tals stood and came over to me. I wrapped an around her thin shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  “How’s Alex?” I sent.

  “Sleeping,” she replied.

  “He’s tough,
Tals. And he’s young, he’ll get through this,” I told her. Before she could dwell on everything he’d been through in his short life, I quickly changed the subject. “Did you tell Michael what we learned from Gracia?”

  “Yeah. He wasn’t as proactive as I’d have liked,” she sent back. Her obvious annoyance gave way to surprise over other news she’d learned in our short time apart.

  “I’ll explain later,” Talia promised. She nodded toward my father and Epsilon, who was greeting Dad just as politely as Alpha had.

  “Did you both attend the McDonough School?” Dad looked back and forth between Alpha and Epsilon curiously.

  “They are from the Clearwood Institute,” I interjected.

  The detail was supposed to help my father understand or calm his worries. Instead, his guard flew up, since Dad had never heard of the Clearwood Institute.

  “Guess you didn’t tell them about our new allies?” I guessed.

  Tals shrugged. “Didn’t want to give Michael any additional reason to track our location.”

  “And Dad?” I asked. “What about him?”

  “I haven’t had a chance,” she replied. “I also hadn’t come up with a good way to tell him yet.”

  “What about now?” I asked. “Have you come up with a good way now? Because we sort of have to tell him something about the ragtag kids we just brought home….”

  “They weren’t relocated when Gretchen took the children from the American institutes to France,” Talia said aloud, choosing her words carefully.

  “Super helpful,” I sent, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

  “I see.” Dad smiled at Alpha and Epsilon. “Well, it is very nice to meet you both.” He nodded to the coolers. “What do you have there?”

  “Venison and some canned vegetables we found in the cafeteria’s stock room, sir,” Alpha replied. Her back was rigidly straight, as though the young girl was standing at attention.