Fated: The Epic Finale (Talented Saga Book 8) Page 4

  I stepped in front of my girlfriend and angled my body so that Gracia didn’t have a clear view of her. Some of the smugness disappeared when Gracia’s gaze transferred to me, replaced by a softer expression that made my stomach queasy.

  Gracia had Talia’s memories, or a good number of them. When she looked at me, some of those memories flashed in her mind. I felt Tals stiffen behind me. The air around us stirred.

  “Easy, Tals. She’s doing this on purpose,” I sent.

  “I know,” she snapped back. “That’s the problem, she’s just doing it to piss me off. If she couldn’t help her feelings for you, I might actually feel bad for her.”

  Honestly, I was pretty sure Gracia really couldn’t help her feelings. I did sort of feel badly for her. To an extent. Not because she’d been programmed to love a guy she would never have, but because her only value to the Dame was her appearance. Once the Dame no longer needed a Talia lookalike, Gracia would no longer have a purpose.

  “Who is the Dame?” I asked. Enunciating each word, I laced the question with a hint of influence.

  The interrogation wasn’t moving along as quickly as I’d hoped, and I no longer cared as much about gauging Gracia’s abilities and treading carefully. I wanted this over and done with. I wanted to lock her away where I’d never have to look at Tal’s doppelganger again.

  Gracia’s smile was meant to be coy, as though she had a secret. Like most every other facial expression, she just couldn’t quite pull off Tals’ haughtiness.

  “The Dame is the leader of the Privileged,” she said softly. “She is a brilliant woman with an inspired vision of the future.” The words came forth quickly, like she’d repeated them multiple times.

  “An inspired vision of the future? That’s not how I’d put it,” I sent to my girlfriend.

  “Me neither. But I’m sure those unstable enough—or brainwashed enough—to follow her think so,” Tals replied. “Remember what Mac did to the TOXIC soldiers? To Kenly? How he brainwashed them into following him?”

  Of course, I remembered. It was the reason Kenly had attacked Talia. Why I’d nearly killed Kenly. I also remembered how Mac had injected trackers in his TOXIC operatives. The thought made my stomach drop with a leaden realization. What if Gracia’s handlers already knew where she was? How long before they showed up? We needed to finish the interrogation and ship Gracia far from the McDonough School.

  “The Dame studied you, studied all of the Talented,” the clone continued. “She learned your weaknesses and decided where improvements could be made. She chose the perfect candidates for the future generation. We are stronger than Talented. We are more powerful than Talented. We are better than Talented.”

  “Brainwashed,” I agreed with Tals. “Definitely brainwashed.”

  Unfortunately, there was truth in Gracia’s words. I felt it. If I were a megalomaniac, I would’ve done the same thing—convince all my minions of their superiority. Every natural-born Talent had weaknesses, if only that many of us relied on our abilities and couldn’t do much without them. If I made a drug that gave people abilities, I would definitely tweak the formula to account for those weaknesses.

  Gracia’s smirk grew impossible larger. “I could break these restraints and kill you before you even say her name.”

  Violet eyes flicked over my shoulder to where Talia stood as the doppelganger rattled the cuffs around her wrists. My insides twisted in anger, but my face remained passive.

  “Do it,” Tals said coldly, the challenge plain in her voice.

  “Easy,” I warned. “She’s finally talking.”

  Talia had never been a fan of the conversational approach; I knew she wanted to pound the answers out of Gracia and be done with it. Answers given under duress were notoriously unreliable though, and we both knew it. Only that fact had stopped her from using the primitive interrogation means, but my girlfriend was running out of patience with Gracia’s bullshit.

  As if demonstrating my point, Tals made a guttural noise that sounded like a growl. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of bared teeth.

  Gracia tried to hide the strain it took, but breaking the cuffs required more telekinetic energy than she’d anticipated. Almost more power than she possessed. Talia took advantage of the weakness.

  Tals sliced through the bonds with one quick thought. When they broke, Gracia’s shoulders sprang apart and she toppled forward, hitting her forehead on the side of the tub before she could catch herself. Next, Tals broke apart the shackles on Gracia’s ankles.

  Shit. It was a no-holds-barred challenge.

  “Come on, Gracia,” Talia taunted. “If you’re such a badass, let’s see it.”

  Chapter Three

  Cressa

  Cressa shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her mind racing as she stared at the beautiful blonde woman framed in a doorway. What were the chances that Kev Leon’s plan to escape the Institute would’ve led them to the Dame herself?

  “I know you,” Cressa Karmine whispered, staring.

  “Gretchen McDonough.” Kev’s tone left no room for doubt. “You’re Danbury McDonough’s wife, the guy who founded TOXIC.”

  “And you’re Kev Leon, the actor,” Gretchen said with an approving nod, her blue eyes sparkling.

  Cressa’s eyes darted around the room, landing anywhere but on the Dame. It was like a magnetic pull drew her attention back to the woman each time. Something deep within screamed for Cressa to run. Her gaze moved to the life-sized paintings on one wall. The last two were covered with thick tarps, but the visible ones were formal portraits. Two guys and a girl looked down from their respective frames with bright blue eyes, their matching dirty-blond hair gleaming. The first one looked vaguely familiar, like she’d seen the boy in an old vid or something. The other two—a slim girl with long waves in her hair and a gangly guy around Cressa’s age—were people she’d never seen before.

  As she stared without really looking, it felt like Cressa was in a trance. Her brain was muddled by the warring emotions inside. Gretchen cleared her throat, and the sound broke through Cressa’s reverie.

  Hand clenched into a fist, she spoke without thinking. “Are you going to kill us?” Cressa’s gaze jumped to the woman who held all the cards, hoping for honesty.

  The Dame’s expression turned serious, the smile she wore no longer touching her eyes.

  “Why on earth would I do such a thing?” Gretchen demanded.

  Kev wrapped an arm around Cressa’s waist, pulling her close and making her feel more grounded. After a reassuring squeeze to her, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the Dame.

  “Your reputation proceeds you,” Kev challenged.

  Gretchen’s hand flew to her chest, though her mouth quirked at the corners as if hiding amusement. “Of all people, I am sure you know exactly how biased news outlets these days are, Mr. Leon. Reporters twist facts to the point they become fiction.” Gretchen’s attention was solely on Cressa when she added, “You must not believe all you see on a wallscreen.”

  The Dame’s words barely registered as a realization fell over Cressa. Gretchen McDonough. She’d just seen the same last name. She had also just seen an image of the boy from the first portrait, whose chiseled features hadn’t quite registered within her brain. In medical, when she and Kev had passed the clone chambers, there was a boy going through the transformation process to become a clone of someone named Donavon McDonough. Was Donavon the Dame’s son? The formal portrait in Gretchen’s bedroom seemed to confirm it. Was she truly cloning her own son?

  “Why?” Cressa pursed her lips, wishing she could suck the word back in. She hadn’t meant to voice her question. Would the Dame punish her for speaking out of turn, particularly when her inquiry was so personal for the Dame?

  “Why the Privileged?” Gretchen supplied. Cressa nearly sagged with relief but didn’t want to make the Dame suspicious.

  “Did you know that UNITED murdered my husband, Danbury?” Gretchen didn’t wait for an answer
. “They did. Do you know why?” Again, the question was rhetorical. “UNITED murdered Danbury because he was trying to save us all, the entire Talented species.”

  When she spoke of her husband, the Dame’s words were flat, and her expression betrayed no emotion.

  It must be too hard for her, Cressa thought. She couldn’t imagine losing her family, it would be devastating. She only hoped if the unthinkable did occur that she would be as strong as the Dame.

  “Our race is a dying breed,” Gretchen continued softly, folding her hands at her waist. “Each year, fewer and fewer children are born talented. And many of the lucky ones who possess talents have very little power.” Her gaze landed squarely on Kev and Cressa, a keen gleam in her eyes. “But the world needs the Talented, they need the Privileged. Did you know that since the Great Contamination, we have had less war? Violence around the globe has been reduced drastically. That is because of those of us with powers, with gifts. We are the peacekeepers.” Gretchen shook her head, her smile almost wistful. “Danbury understood that. He understood the global crisis we would face if the Talented died out. Together, we found a solution: Make more Talents. We began gifting worthy children in the States with abilities beyond anything they could’ve imagined.

  “But UNITED did not want us making more Talented. They want us to die out. UNITED purports to protect the Talented. In reality, their only objective is to make sure our kind is eradicated.

  “My husband and I always knew it would come to war with UNITED, but the war came sooner than anticipated. Our forces were not ready. After UNITED murdered Danbury, it was no longer safe for me or the poor souls at our American institutions.”

  Gretchen paused to smile, and Cressa felt as though someone had wrapped her in a blanket of sunshine.

  “With the help of my most trusted allies, I smuggled those gifted children here, to France,” the Dame continued. “I wanted to make a home for them. A home where they were valued, where they were appreciated and looked after.”

  The leader of the Privileged radiated warmth, her ice-blue eyes crinkling at the corners with a kind smile. Cressa found herself considering the words. Had the news really twisted the story that much? Did UNITED really want the Talented to die out? Cressa knew one thing for sure: UNITED had killed Danbury McDonough. Even the media had reported his death sentence and subsequent execution. And what Gretchen had done for the cadets at the American institutes, bringing them to France and giving them a home, didn’t sound like the acts of an evil dictator.

  Did Cressa have it all wrong? Was Gretchen truly a benevolent benefactor? Cressa couldn’t help but wonder if indeed the Dame was simply offering a shelter for those who were cast out. They were chosen to join her family, to become Privileged.

  The frog ponds. The thought flit through Cressa’s mind, and she forced herself to recall the electric cages where dismissed cadets were held. They’d looked like tortured souls, not sheltered refugees. A wave of heat engulfed Cressa, wiping the image from her mind.

  Kev stiffened beside her, though the Dame didn’t seem to notice. Her focus was on Cressa alone as she continued.

  “My husband’s murder was tragic, but his vision for the future did not die with him. I will rebuild the world in tribute to Danbury.” Gretchen held out her arms, gesturing to both Cressa and Kev. “The two of you are key parts to ensuring a world safe for those with talents, a world at peace,” she continued. “Our enemies are biased against those not born with gifts, and they want to kill each and every Privileged. I cannot stop them without you. Both of you, together.” She gestured down, and Cressa followed her gaze to where her hand was still laced with Kev’s.

  I’m holding hands with Kev Leon, how did I get to be so lucky? Cressa wondered.

  “Are you going to lock us in cages? Torture us?” Kev stammered. His grip on Cressa’s fingers curled tighter, until Kev’s knuckles paled. “Are we going to become test subjects?”

  Gretchen looked genuinely aghast. “Of course not. You are the reason for everything,” she replied. “Come, I will show you the world we are creating.”

  She turned and disappeared through the recessed doorway she’d appeared from. Cressa stole a look at Kev, wondering what kind of game the Dame was playing. After the demonstrations with the students found in the tunnels, were they marching to the same fate?

  “Do you really think we should follow her?” Cressa hissed.

  Kev glanced behind them, to the tunnel entrance. “There’s not a way out back there. I’m not sure we have much ch—”

  Gretchen peeked out from the doorway. “Come along,” she pressed, gesturing them forward. “There is nothing to fear.”

  Gently squeezing Kev’s hand, Cressa followed the Dame. Shuffling along, Kev stayed half a step ahead, his body partially shielding her. Through the opening lay another door that slid open. Beyond, soft light shone brightly. It took Cressa’s eyes a minute to adjust as she entered an enormous space with vaulted ceilings.

  The white walls were lined with vertical notches, the blue glowing light emanating from behind each. There were no needles, no labs or test dummies, no nightmarish experiments. Instead, plush white armchairs and sofas were arranged around the periphery of a smooth, circular floor panel. A clear control box sat beside one of the chairs, and Gretchen settled in there. Cressa followed and sat on a wide couch, pulling Kev down beside her. His posture was rigid, his eyes darting around as if there might be threats lurking in the non-existent shadows.

  A door opposite the one they’d used slid open, and Sir Tate appeared. Another man followed, holding a tray with a proper china teapot and matching teacups. As he set up the tea service on a low table, Gretchen tapped on the controls. The panels on the floor flickered to life, and a holographic image appeared.

  The scene showed tranquil, turquoise waters. The sight of gentle waves brought a sense of peace to Cressa. The Dame wasn’t doing wild, evil things, she was just relaxing. At least, in this room. Cressa sneaked a glance at the Dame, wondering when the nefarious acts would begin. The older woman was pouring tea and arranging small cookies on plates. She looked utterly benign, like someone’s grandmother.

  When they’d been served, Gretchen turned back to the hologram’s controls. With several swipes, the scene zoomed in. What had looked like a small mark on the video feed grew larger, and the small dark apostrophe became a cluster of islands.

  “Do you know what this is? Where this is?” the Dame asked, picking up her teacup and blowing gently to cool it.

  Kev and Cressa both shook their heads. Cressa lifted her saucer but didn’t sample the drink. If it was poisoned, the Dame would have to be the first to keel.

  “It is the Isle of Exile,” Gretchen explained. She took a sip of tea, Cressa watching her closely. “This is where UNITED is headquartered, where our enemies are based. They’ve condemned the world to an open hunting season on Talents, Created, and Privileged alike, unless they accept lifetime exile from society. It is these people,” Gretchen gestured to the screen, “who decided humans shouldn’t have to coexist with those of us who are special. They’ve voted to kill countless of our kind, some from our own ranks. This is scheduled to happen immediately. Today.”

  Gretchen set down her drink and turned to face Kev and Cressa. “We need to save them,” she insisted. “We have to help. These poor souls are locked in steel cages simply for being extraordinary. This is mass murder, and I cannot abide these crimes.”

  Not knowing what else to do, Cressa nodded. “It’s not right,” she agreed.

  Everything the Dame said sounded good. It sounded right. The Privileged weren’t the bad guys at all; they were the heroes who’d save the day.

  “What can we do?” Cressa asked. She felt strong and sure of herself. Cressa settled back into the plush couch, her side was still pressed against Kev’s. That felt right, too. Fingers fidgeting, Kev let out a long breath.

  “What part do we play?” he asked.

  “Right now, I simply need your alleg
iance to the cause,” the Dame answered. “I’ve already launched a rescue mission for the Talents and Createds who are on Vault and in containment.” Gretchen’s finger flew over the control as the video feed zoomed in further. “We are going to watch our rescue team in action.”

  With the new view, Cressa could see people moving atop the islands. Though only a few were visible when the hologram first zoomed, what looked like rows of marching ants began streaming across two of the islands. The Dame frowned as a row of shore pods launched from one side of the biggest island, departing in quick succession.

  “Are those the people we are saving?” Cressa asked. It seemed the mission was already underway, and it was going well.

  Kev elbowed Cressa in her side and shot a warning look. When he tipped his head toward the Dame, Cressa followed his gaze. Though the pleasant facade was still firmly in place, Gretchen’s lips had drawn into a grimace. The hand that had been laying gracefully on the arm of Gretchen’s chair was grasping the fabric so tightly, it seemed her crimson nails would puncture the surface.

  “Those are the people who want to kill you,” Gretchen said tightly. “They’re the ones holding our brethren hostage.”

  Sir Tate dropped his china cookie plate with a clatter and leapt to his feet. “What is happening?” he asked, his voice razor sharp. He strode up to the three-dimensional images, until he was practically standing within them.

  “UNITED appears to be leaving.” Gretchen tore her eyes from the wallscreen and glared at her second-in-command. “They appear to be evacuating. How long until our teams arrive?”

  Though the Dame spoke slowly and evenly, her hawkish stare didn’t match the calm tone. With measured steps, she joined Tate at the edge of the hologram.

  “Ninety seconds until craft one is in range.” Tate’s eyes kept darting back to the fleeing pods as he checked the comm on his wrist.