The Gathering (DR) Read online

  So where was he? Long gone. I was sure of that. Once I was captured, he'd run and keep running. It hurt, knowing I'd found him only to lose him again, but at least he'd be safe.

  "We'll discuss this again later, Maya," Antone said. "For now--"

  "Later?" Nast said. "I have three Cabal security teams waiting for her answer. Do you realize how much this operation is costing?"

  "No more than it's worth," Antone said. "Or you wouldn't still be here. If your teams are so valuable, they should be competent enough to find my son without Maya's help."

  "Your daughter isn't the only one who needs to modulate her tone. Don't forget who you're speaking to, Calvin."

  Antone turned to me. "We'll discuss this later. Right now, there's someone waiting to see you." He smiled. "Someone I know you'll want to see."

  "Daniel," I said, sitting up. "Is he okay? And Corey?"

  Silence. I looked from Antone to Nast, and I realized Daniel wasn't here. I felt a flicker of disappointment, but it vanished when I realized what that meant.

  "They're still out there," I said. "You don't have them."

  "No, but we're looking for them," Antone said. "Even harder than we're looking for your brother. For a very good reason. There was . . . an accident."

  Nast spoke up. "Your Daniel got himself hit by a car running from the park."

  "Wh-what?"

  Antone glowered at Nast again. "Could I please speak to my daughter in private, sir?"

  "No, because you'll sugarcoat it for her so she doesn't get sad and cry. We have got a very valuable asset out there--"

  "Asset?" I said. "Daniel is not an asset. We're not assets. We're kids. Living, thinking, feeling--"

  "That's enough, Maya," Antone murmured. Then to Nast, "This isn't your area of expertise, sir. I'm sorry if I'm not being properly grateful that the Cabal sent you, but I requested Sean Nast. He--"

  "Sean is a boy, whatever his grandfather thinks, and he knows nothing of this project. Even Thomas realizes there are things his so-called heir can't stomach. This operation would be one of them."

  I sat on the edge of the bed. "So this Sean guy would have a problem with hunting teens like animals? Huh. Can't imagine why."

  "Your concern for your friend seems to have faded very quickly, young lady," Nast said.

  "Because I believed you for about five seconds before I realized you were full of crap. Daniel's not careless enough to run in front of a car. You picked the person I'm closest to and told me he was hurt. Terribly hurt, I'm sure, which is why I need to help you find him."

  "Daniel was hit, Maya," Antone said, his voice low. "It wasn't his fault. He was running across an intersection to escape security officers and a car full of teens ignored a stop sign."

  I shook my head. "Don't waste your breath. I know--"

  Nast walked over and slapped a photo on the bed.

  Antone grabbed for it. "She doesn't need to see--"

  Nast stopped him. "I think she does. These are photos taken by a traffic camera, Maya."

  I stared at the photos and my gut twisted, until I had to close my eyes and force the nausea back. Then I opened them for another look.

  The first photo was taken at the moment when Daniel saw the car coming. The moment when he realized they wouldn't get out of the way in time. He was lunging to knock Corey aside. Terror on both their faces.

  The second photo. The car stopped. Teenage driver getting out. Corey running back from the curb. His expression. Oh God, his expression. Daniel. Lying on the road. Sprawled like a rag doll.

  Nast slapped down a third. Daniel was on his feet now. Corey holding him up. Daniel's face was bloodied, his clothes ripped. One leg dragged. A bystander raced toward them, gesturing. The car full of kids was gone.

  "Someone called an ambulance," Antone said, his tone still hushed. "But they got a ride with that woman"--he pointed to the bystander--"instead. The security officers thought they were just resting in her car. Then it drove off. They got the license number and we've tracked down the woman. She drove them to the hospital, but they vanished while she was speaking to an emergency room nurse."

  Antone moved closer. "I know you don't want to believe us, but we are extremely concerned about Daniel. We have no idea how badly he was injured. There's a strong likelihood of internal injury. We need to find him."

  I shook my head. Dazed. Numb.

  "What proof do you need, Maya? Tell me and I'll get it. I can take you to the woman who picked them up. To the hospital where a nurse spotted them before they ran away."

  "It-it's not that. I-I don't know where to find them. We got separated at the memorial and we didn't have any contingency plan for that. Ash and I were just waiting until it was late so we could go back to the memorial site, in case they returned."

  Not completely true. Yes, we had no plan. Yes, I couldn't contact them. But I did know where they'd go if they could--our spot in Stanley Park.

  I would not tell Antone that. I didn't trust him; I did trust Daniel. And maybe even more important, I trusted Corey. If Daniel was too badly injured to make decisions on his own, Corey would get him to a hospital, whatever the risk. He wouldn't let Daniel--

  I doubled over, stomach clenching again. When Antone passed me the bowl, I clutched the cool metal and leaned over it.

  "That's called stress, young lady," Nast said. "And guilt."

  "No," I said. "It's called a double-dose of tranquilizers. You made me sick."

  "You made yourself sick by forcing us to tranquilize you. Just like your friend Daniel may have gotten himself killed--"

  I flew at Nast. Just flew at him, howling, nails slashing like claws, raking down his cheek as he fell back, me on top of him. I dimly heard Antone shouting. Dimly felt him pulling at me. Dimly felt a surge of panic, something deep within me telling me to stop, stop now. But rage filled me, the smell of Nast's blood filled me, feeding the rage--

  Antone pinned me to the floor and it was like a switch snapped off. I lay there, dazed.

  "Maya?" he said.

  "Wh-what . . . ?"

  I looked up to see Nast swiping a handkerchief across his cheek. Deep furrows oozed blood. I looked down at my hand to see skin under my nails. I knew I'd scratched him. I remembered doing it. But I still stared at that skin, unbelieving, and then . . .

  Shame. I felt shame.

  As Antone released me, I pushed him away, ran to the bowl on the bed, and threw up. As I retched, he patted my back and told me it would be okay.

  "No," Nast said. "It will not be okay. It's starting. She's had her first shift and now she's beginning to revert. Just like Annabella."

  Annabella?

  Annie. He meant Annie.

  I clutched the bowl and retched again.

  "This isn't like Annabella," Antone said. "Maya's still woozy and confused from the drugs. You just showed her photos of her best friend being hit by a car. You suggested he's dead. Combine that with everything she's gone through and she overreacted. That's all."

  "No, she's reverting. This isn't like Annabella because your daughter isn't like Annabella. Those scientists predicted that the effects of the reversion would depend on the base personality. According to Annabella's brother, she was a sweet, quiet girl. Your daughter is not."

  Before Antone could answer, Nast started out the door. "You need to control her, Calvin. We have two other skin-walkers in custody and another nearby. We don't need four of them."

  NINETEEN

  ANTONE TRIED TO CALM me down after that, to convince me Nast's threat was empty. But that threat was the last thing on my mind. I was freaked out about what I'd just done--that rage-blind attack on Nast. Was it a sign that I was reverting? Of course Nast would say that--another reason for me to need his Cabal. I couldn't put too much stock in his diagnosis.

  My real worry was the guys. For now, I had to trust Ash was long gone, out of danger. I had to trust Daniel could look after himself. I had to believe he was fine, just battered and bruised and holed up some
where with Corey. The alternative? I couldn't even think of the alternative.

  When Antone finally left, I didn't really notice. The next thing I knew, I was being bowled over by a furry cannonball.

  I looked up to see a German shepherd looming over me.

  "Kenjii!"

  I hugged her so tight she wriggled until I let go, then she bathed my face with her tongue, shoving me back on the bed every time I tried to get up. Finally I pushed her away, laughing.

  "Now that's a sound I like to hear," said a voice. "I just hope I get the same reception as the dog."

  I looked up to see a guy my age, with straight dark hair down to his collar, amber eyes dancing with a grin that turned an ordinary face gorgeous. Nast had said they had two other skin-walkers in custody, but I'd been too shocked over Daniel to process what that meant.

  I launched myself at Rafe. He caught me and hugged me as tightly as I'd hugged Kenjii.

  "You okay?" he whispered as he let me go.

  I thought of Daniel and could only nod, gaze dropping. He lifted my chin and I knew he was going to kiss me but I backed off, still holding his hands, struggling to smile.

  "Maya?"

  Rafe stepped toward me. I retreated to the bed and collapsed there. Kenjii lay down with her head on my lap. Rafe reached to move the papers on the bed aside. Then he saw what they were. The photos. He leafed through them, once quickly, then slower, before he sucked in breath and swore.

  "That's . . ."

  I nodded.

  "He was . . ."

  I nodded again.

  "When?"

  "Yesterday."

  "Is he . . . okay?"

  "I don't know," I said. "They haven't found him."

  Rafe sat on the edge of the bed with me.

  Rafe set the photos aside, facedown. "They're lying. They doctored photos to spook you."

  "I don't think so."

  "Well, I do." He straightened. "I'm sure of it."

  I shook my head. "We were separated. Daniel didn't meet up with us. The only reason he'd do that is if he . . . couldn't."

  "Temporarily. He'd have found you as soon as he could."

  Rafe drew my gaze up to the vent. A microphone or camera, I was guessing. Rafe was warning me not to say anything that could lead them to Daniel. I nodded and leaned against his shoulder.

  He put his arm around me. "Daniel's fine. You know he is."

  I nodded, closed my eyes, and tried to believe it.

  When I felt a little better, I looked around. I'd known I was in a bedroom. Now I noticed the double bed, closet, desk, and dresser. It looked--

  I fought back a chill.

  It looked like my room. Not exactly--there were no photos or mementos. The furniture was different. But it was the same kind of pieces in the same configuration. I hadn't recognized it because the most important part of my bedroom had not been duplicated. I had huge windows along two walls that opened onto the wraparound second-story balcony. Mom's design, one that let me feel like I was outdoors even when I wasn't.

  There was, to my surprise, a window here. Just a normal-sized one. It looked out onto what seemed like an empty blue sky, but when I walked over to it, I could see the glass was opaque. It let in light, but wouldn't let me look out. I rapped the pane.

  "Shatterproof," Rafe said. "Believe me, I've tried. Broke my desk chair throwing it at mine."

  "What'd they do?"

  "Gave me a stern talking-to about damaging property, while letting me know that they understood the urge to act out." He rolled his eyes. "It's like being in a group home. No one ever gets mad about anything. They take away privileges, but they don't get angry--they just want to talk about it."

  "They don't want us feeling like we're in a prison."

  "Sometimes I'd prefer a prison. This is just creepy." He walked over to stand beside me at the window. "They say that when we accept the situation, they'll replace these with glass we can actually see through."

  "Really? And they'll make them breakable, too?"

  He laughed and put his arm around my waist. "Not a chance. But we will get field trips. To the mall and stuff. Because I know you love going to the mall."

  I shuddered. He laughed again and pulled me against him, our hips bumping, his fingers warm, his smell washing over me, a familiar musky scent, skin-walker scent. I relaxed a little, then stiffened.

  "Field trips? So we're . . . stuck indoors. All the time?"

  He rubbed down the goose bumps rising on my arm. "There's a yard. With a twelve-foot wood fence and guards with tranq guns. There's a rooftop exercise area, too. More walls that we can't see past or climb over. Like a big kitty playground, with huge balls of yarn and wind-up mice to chase."

  I stared at him.

  "I'm kidding. Kind of. They have a boxing ring and weights for the benandanti and balance beams and hurdles for us. It sounds awful, and I've been really tempted to ignore it, but the fresh air and the exercise . . . ?" He shrugged. "It helps keep me from going nuts while I figure out a way . . ."

  He glanced at the vent and didn't finish.

  "Any luck with that?" I murmured.

  "Not really. Scoping the situation for now."

  "So we're in . . . a lab? A compound of some sort?"

  He shook his head. "A house. Huge mansion of a place. It doesn't smell like city, so I think we're outside Vancouver. They're still working on the house, but it was pretty much ready to go when we arrived, which makes me think the St. Clouds had been working on it for a while."

  "A contingency plan in case we decided we didn't want to stay in Salmon Creek after we found out about the experiments. The Nasts must have bought it along with us. The lab rats and their habitat."

  "Yeah. So for now I'm just taking stock and--"

  A rap at the door. I waited for someone to enter, but Rafe had to call a "Come in" before it opened. He rolled his eyes at me.

  In walked a woman I'd known for almost my entire life. Dr. Inglis. Head of the lab in Salmon Creek. She'd been in charge of our medical care since I moved there. She hadn't always been our personal doctor, but she'd been a fixture in town and in our lives. Last time she'd seen me, I'd been in cat form--pinning her to the ground.

  When she stepped in, her gaze went straight to me, and she started to smile. She caught herself and turned to Rafe instead.

  "Is it time?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "It went well?"

  She nodded. Again she looked at me. Her lips parted, as if she wanted to say something. Whatever it was, she just murmured it under her breath, gaze dropping, and withdrew.

  "What's she doing here?" I asked.

  "The Nasts hired her," Rafe said. "Seems she wanted to stay and 'help' us. Which I've suggested she could do a lot better by opening a door and letting us out. But apparently, that's not the plan." He shook his head. "Enough of that. There's someone I want you to meet."

  He walked to the door and turned the knob. I expected a security escort on the other side. The hall was empty.

  I peered out.

  "Yeah, we pretty much have the run of the place. Not much damage we can do. Shatterproof glass. Cameras everywhere. Only two exits--both with alarms and guarded by multiple guys with tranq guns. Patrolling guards, too, both on foot and in cars."

  He really had done his research. Not that I expected any less.

  I started to step out, Kenjii at my heels, but Rafe waved her back.

  "Better leave her here," he said. "She doesn't like some of our jailers, not surprisingly. They've threatened to kennel her."

  I nodded and urged her back inside. She obeyed with a sigh, as if she was expecting it.

  As he closed my bedroom door, I said, "So that wasn't locked?"

  He shook his head. "They never are. This isn't a jail, kiddies. Any security is for your own good. We all care about you. We all want you to be comfortable. We know you won't be happy--yet--but that is our goal, someday."

  I made gagging noises.

  He
grinned. "Exactly. Prepare to be treated like a rebellious twelve-year-old."

  There were stairs right outside my door. Behind us, the hall stretched for at least twenty meters, flanked by a half-dozen doors.

  "My room's the third down from yours. Just in case you were interested. Did I mention they don't lock the doors?"

  "I believe you did."

  He grinned. "Good. And we don't have roommates."

  "Duly noted."

  I looked at those bedroom doors. Who else was here? I wanted to ask, but part of me was afraid of the answer. Was anyone still with the St. Clouds? Had anyone . . . not made it? At any other time, those questions would have been the first words out of my mouth, but I was feeling . . . not myself. Still off from the drugs, I guess. Dazed and bruised, physically and emotionally.

  As we walked down the steps, voices downstairs broke the hush. I strained to hear familiar ones, but they all sounded like adults and no one I knew.

  We passed at least a half-dozen people, a few obviously security, a couple who looked like medical personnel, and some who might have been house staff. Some stopped what they were doing, as if expecting Rafe to introduce us.

  "Kitchen's through there," he said, gesturing down a hall. "We've got free run of it. There's a list on the fridge where you can add anything you want. Meals are cooked and we eat"--he motioned right past someone--"in the dining room there."

  He continued on, giving me the tour as if no one else was there. Treating them like furniture. It worked for me.

  Finally, he led me down another flight of stairs. "All the rec stuff is down here. An indoor gym for bad weather. Home theater. Game room." He glanced over as we reached the bottom step. "Yeah, it's like they consulted a stack of teen life magazines, trying to build the ultimate hangout."

  "Ignoring the fact that our idea of playtime involves kayaks, rock-climbing, dirt bikes . . ."

  "Exactly." He opened the first door. "Here's the game room, complete with every console known to man, plus a prototype of a new kinetic one, just for us, 'cause we're so special."

  "Special enough to get internet access on those consoles?"

  "Not a chance."

  TWENTY

  WE WALKED INSIDE. AS we did, I stopped short. There was a girl sitting at a table across the room. She was bent over a piece of paper and seemed to be writing.

  Rafe tugged me forward. "Maya, I'd like to introduce you to someone."