“It’s been so long,” she says, pulling out of the hug and giving him a shy smile.

  Blaze steps forward. His eyes flash red for a few seconds. “Some of us say you abandoned us. That you’re not welcome here.”

  “I left to search for a better life,” X mutters. His fists clench at his sides. I can tell the difference in his clenches. This isn’t a pissed-off one, or a mad-as-hell one. It’s full of guilt and regret.

  Blaze gives him a curt nod. “Found it?”

  X doesn’t say anything. A few silent seconds tick by.

  Finally, Blaze turns to us. His expression is cold and hostile. “These two with you?”

  X nods. The girl turns to Stretch and me. Like she just realizes we’re here. Man, what’s with the death glare?

  Blaze steps closer to us, and we stiffen. But he doesn’t shoot fire at us or knock us over the head or bash our bodies into the wall. He holds out a hand. “A friend of Ray is a friend of mine. He’s like a brother to me.”

  I don’t know what to say. X has never talked about his days in the sewers. Most of the information I do know is from Dad and a few bits here and there when X let it slip out. It makes me feel a little guilty that I didn’t try to get to know about his past life. Like I don’t care enough about him.

  Blaze turns back toward the doorway and sweeps his hand. “Come on in.”

  It’s like walking through a portal and into another world. I don’t feel like I’m in the sewers anymore. The floor is covered with gray carpet, the walls lined with pictures and portraits like you’d find in a living room or hallway. There are tables and chairs and couches, and when I crane my neck to peer deeper into the room, I see some sort of hallway that leads to many doors. Like a real house.

  The room is packed with people. Adults and kids, some deformed. At first they all stare at us like we’re some of the sewage that poured in from the waters, but then this little girl about five years old with boils on her face that remind me of Lindsay wraps her arms around X’s legs.

  Then they welcome us like we’re their long-lost brothers who went out to sea and haven’t been seen or heard from in years. I take it all in. These people are a family. Not tied by blood, but something stronger. They need one another to survive. It’s a big colony.

  This door on the side slides open and everyone stops what they’re doing and watch as a man in his late-thirties and four feet tall heads in our direction. His face is covered in scars. So are his arms and legs, and other parts of his body that aren’t hidden by his clothes. It looks like he’s been cut open and sewn back together again, like someone’s torture toy. It’s not the greatest sight, and I’m tempted to look away, but I hold my ground. I’ve seen some bad sights over the years. Lots of members of the League have been through some pretty bad stuff in their lives. But nothing as extreme as this.

  The thing that stands out the most is his mouth. He doesn’t have one. It’s just empty skin in the spot where his mouth should be.

  Welcome Ray and friends, he says, his eyes scanning us. I try not to flinch. Having him speak in my mind is one thing, but actually seeing him do it is something totally different. It looks as though everyone hears his thoughts, too. That’s some serious stuff.

  Blaze and some other dude—a guy with huge biceps—act as bodyguards, flanking Scar on both sides. Arms crossed over their chests, feet spread wide. Kind of freaky.

  I didn’t think you’d accept me back down here, X says, his voice very...emotional. That’s the best I can describe it. X’s voice is always flat, devoid of anything. I’m sorry I left.

  I do not want to get involved with anything that does not concern my family. Their safety and security come first, above anything else. Even before yours. You are no longer part of this family.

  X clenches his jaw.

  “You have to help us,” I find myself saying. “Because you need the League.” Scar’s eyes snap to mine, hard and cold. I didn’t realize I’ve spoken with my mouth. Uh, is the protocol to speak with my mind only?

  How so, young Zenith?

  I’m swallowing a million times per minute. Tongue or mind? Eh, hell. “If something happens to the League, it will give the humans all the more reason to abuse people like us. No one will stand in their way like my dad is doing now.”

  Scar stares at me for a moment and the silence is so thick I swear I can slice through it with a knife. Finally, he takes a step toward me and his bodyguards follow. I was kidnapped as a child, he says, circling me, his gaze locked with mine. Am I shaking? I check my fingers. Definitely shaking. Took me right out of my home. How did they know I possess mind control? Five grand could do a lot to a father, especially one who was ashamed of his own son. His back is facing me now. He turns around slowly, his gaze boring into mine. My own father, one who was like us, handed me over. Let them torture me. Watched from the sidelines as they dug their knives into me, poking and prodding to see how much of the pain my brain could handle. See if I could block it all out, switch my thoughts and trick my mind into thinking I wasn’t being ripped alive. The more my father nodded, the more his cash register chimed. His eyes flash with fury. I don’t trust anyone with ties to the government.

  “My dad’s not like that!” I say. “It’s his life mission to make the world a better place for us.”

  You are not one of us, he says in a clipped voice. My mouth snaps shut. His words sting as much as when my dad told me my mom will never be the same. It knocks me speechless.

  Stretch steps forward. “Kale is one of us,” he says. “He may not have a power, but he’d give his life for any one of us. You’ve read his thoughts. You know what he feels.”

  You are correct, Scar says. In all my life I have never seen a regular human sacrifice so much of his self for one of us. His eyes dart back to mine. And this is why I am agreeing to do as you ask.

  All three of us perk up. I don’t think any of us expected him to say that.

  He holds up his hand. I do not wish to see the League harmed in any way. I do not want our people to be ruled by others who do not understand us. Your fears are appropriate. One of your leaders is not to be trusted.

  Lightning, X says.

  Scar nods. I cannot read his thoughts. A telepath has put a block on his mind. I cannot penetrate it without the possibility of being detected, either by him or the telepath who has placed it there.

  “So, he’s got a telepath on his side,” I say. “Robert.”

  Scar shakes his head. Robert’s mind is not entirely his own.

  “What?” I say.

  The same telepath controls Robert’s mind, but only with respect to Lightning. When one asks Robert to investigate whether your League official is a traitor, he is programmed to deny.

  “Do you know if Lightning is with the ShadowBlades?” I ask.

  I cannot confirm that.

  “Would Robert be able to pick up our thoughts?” X asks.

  Yes.

  “So that’s good, isn’t it?” Stretch asks. “Robert will read our minds and tell Kale’s dad. Don’t we want that?”

  No you do not, because what Robert sees the other telepath may see as well. I don’t believe he would appreciate that the three of you have discovered his plans.

  “Oh...”

  “We need a block,” I say. “Can you do that for us, Scar? Block us the way the other telepath blocks Lightning, so that no one can read our thoughts?”

  They will sense that something is amiss if they cannot reach your thoughts. Your project could be compromised.

  What do you suggest? X asks.

  It doesn’t take Scar even five seconds to think of a solution. Conceal your true thoughts behind false ones. Make it appear as though the thoughts running through your minds are authentic.

  “What? I don’t get it,” Stretch says.

  It will be as a recording playing in your mind. I will dig deep into your minds to procure thoughts and memories to play through your heads. When a telepath will attempt to read your minds—

  “It will be fake thoughts,” I say. “A front. Hiding what we really are thinking.”

  Precisely.

  I look at X and Stretch. We’re all speechless. X says, Can you do that, Scar?

  Yes. But I do not wish for myself or my family to be involved. Coming here may have already put us at risk. You leave from here with my block and you do not say a word to anyone. Not even your closest friends. Do you understand me? I do not wish to make threats.

  We understand, X assures him, and Stretch and I nod.

  Very well.

  “Wait, I thought of something,” I say. “Can the telepath control my dad?”

  Scar thinks for a bit, his eyes hard on me. Samson’s mind is untouchable.

  “Huh? What do you mean?”

  That is something your father will discuss with you.

  I look at the guys. They’re as clueless as me.

  “But—”

  Do not ask questions, boy. Trust that your father’s mind is safe.

  Uh, okay. Geez.

  Scar walks over to me. He raises his hand and touches my forehead. Then he does the same to X and Stretch. I don’t feel anything different. I thought I would. Like a gate around my mind or something. But nothing.

  Only I can read your thoughts now, he says. Only I can remove the block. Once this project is complete, I will remove my hold on you. Now leave my home.

  We all thank him and turn to leave. Once X turns his back on Scar and the others, he doesn’t glance back. His hands are in fists at his sides. No one, not even that girl, sees him off.

  I hope trusting this guy is a good idea. I don’t know much about him, so I’m putting my faith in X. I can’t see any other option. It’s not like we have telepaths lined up.

  As I climb up the ladder to the manhole cover, I hear, Do not lose faith in your mother, Kale. She is not gone forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  All I’ve been thinking about since I woke up this morning is Scar’s words. I don’t know what to say, or think. What did he mean?

  It’s useless—I’ve tried. Dad’s tried. Telepaths have tried. Not sure if Scar did, though. The best thing to do is go back to him, but he’s helping us enough and I doubt he’ll want to do me another favor.

  I’m standing in the school halls. It’s noisy and crowded, and pretty much the same as every day. They’re not worrying about the world blowing up, or villains out to get them, or about saving their moms. Sometimes I wish I were them, other times I’m glad I’m not. Right now, I want to not obsess over Scar’s last words, or about Lightning and everything. I just want to...

  What the—?

  Lindsay walks through the school doors. At least, I think it’s Lindsay. I can’t stop my eyes from staring at her. Heck, all the guys in the hall stare at her as she heads toward history.

  My feet move on their own, and I rush into the classroom and plop down near her. Lindsay’s got her head buried in her history book, and that’s okay, because I can stare at her face all day. Her clean, acne-free face. Man, Healer does cool stuff. I don’t know how or when she did it, but I’m loving the results.

  Lindsay’s face gets red and she tugs her sweatshirt closer to her chest. The hoodie’s not hiding her face like it normally does. Her hair’s brushed down her shoulders, and this is the first time I see how golden and shiny it is. Makes me want to touch it to see if it feels as silky as it looks. I clear my throat. I knew she was cute underneath all those zits, but I didn’t know how cute.

  She seems to like the attention from the other guys who are staring at her like pirates go “ooh” over treasure. I don’t like the way they’re looking at her. Something fills up inside me. I don’t need them screwing up my mission. Because Lindsay’s a new toy to them, and once they get over her, or another pretty thing drops by, they’ll throw her to the curb. And I’ll be left to clean up the pieces. No, Earth will explode.

  I clear my throat again. “Hey. Morning.”

  “Hi.”

  “Did you get my text last night?” After I came back from the sewers it was too late to call Linds, so I sent her an apology text. Totally forgot about it until I saw her this morning.

  “Yes.”

  “Cool.”

  Quiet. As more guys fill the classroom, they paste their eyes on her. Geez, some seniors are standing in the doorway, ogling Linds. Did I make a mistake by asking Healer to zap her zits away? What if this compromises the mission? What if Lindsay gets a boyfriend? How would I keep close to her?

  “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “Huh? What?”

  “At home? You said something happened at home and that’s why you needed to hang up on me.” The text wasn’t a complete lie. I mean, things are happening at the Tower.

  “Oh, yeah. Everything is okay.”

  She smiles a little. I’ve seen her smile before, but it’s different now. I’m not exactly sure how or why. Maybe it’s because of the clear face. Without all the zits, I can focus on her face and her...lips. They’re darker today. Like she put stuff on them.

  I should look away, but I can’t. I can’t stop my eyes from roaming over every inch of her face.

  “That’s good,” she says. “Did you get my email?”

  I was too busy thinking about Scar’s words to care about homework, but I nod anyway because I don’t want to upset her. “Was kinda half alive, half dead because of all the stuff going on at home, but I’ll take another look.” I give her a huge smile and she returns a small one, her face reddening. It’s weird, I’ve hardly seen her blush. I like to see this side of her.

  Some guys push themselves between our desks and crowd around Lindsay. I can’t see if she’s bored of the attention or not. I’m assuming she likes it—who wouldn’t? But I’m also hoping she likes me more than them. As friends, partners, whatever we are.

  Shifter’s late, so class hasn’t started yet, even though the bell rang five minutes ago. I’m stuck listening to the guys give Lindsay fake compliments. One guy tells her that he’s always been interested in her, but was too shy to ask her out. Snort. Right, I’m sure.

  I busy myself texting X and Stretch, who are going through a grueling training session at the Tower. They tell me there are no updates on the Lightning situation. Then I text Healer, thanking her and asking how she zapped Lindsay’s acne. She tells me all she had to do was “accidentally” bang into Lindsay on the street, “accidentally” touch her face, and the zits disappeared.

  That’s awesome, Itext back.

  Taking a peek at Lindsay through two guys who are practically fused together and bent over her, I see her glowing. I slink down in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest.

  ***

  I enter my room. “Get lost,” I order Prizm, who’s sitting on the floor playing with his ball. I want to lie down and forget how good everything was when Lindsay had her zits, and me for a friend. Just me.

  I kick my sneakers off and climb into bed. Prizm stands over me. His eyes are wide and his body is changing colors so fast it almost blinds me. Makes me dizzy. I turn onto my stomach. “What happened?” he asks.

  I mash my pillow on my face. “Nothing, just go away.”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me!”

  I jolt up and grab him by his shirt. “Leave me the hell alone and go annoy someone else.” I shove him aside and lie down again.

  I hear Prizm get up, and feel him watching me. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone. I won’t talk to you, even. Bye.” The door shuts after him.

  Fine, maybe he didn’t deserve that. Rolling around in bed, I shut my eyes and don’t let myself think about what a jerk I am.

  The door bursts open and footsteps come in. What the heck. Is it too much to ask for some peace and quiet?

  “Kale, get up, man,” X says. I open one eye. Both he and Stretch stand over my bed like Prizm did.

  “What’s up?” I say, trying to keep the annoyance from my voice. I don’t want to see or talk to my friends or anyone else. Just want to lie here for a little bit. Maybe clear my head from anything Lindsay related. Why’s she making me feel this way?

  “Texted you,” Stretch says. “Thought you’d be with Lindsay.”

  “We need to move. Now,” X says. “This might be our only chance.”

  I sit up. My head is even dizzier from all these thoughts swirling inside. “Only chance for what? What’re you talking about?”

  “Where you been?” Stretch says. “A group of hikers have been trapped for days in one of the mountains in Switzerland because of an avalanche. Most of the Elites have gone to help. Including Lightning.”

  “Our chance to get to his laptop,” X adds.

  I shoot out of bed, throw my shoes on, and the three of us rush into the elevator that’ll take us to the fifth floor, where the Elite members’ bedrooms are. No one goes there, unless you’re one of the top members. Kids never step foot on that floor, except for the newcomers who get lost.

  X leans against the elevator wall, arms crossed over his chest. My hands are in my pockets, and all I’m thinking about is what happened with Prizm. I know I was a little harsh, but the kid drives me insane. I don’t regret kicking him out of our room, but I guess I could have done it in a nicer way.

  And Lindsay. No. I won’t think about her. Not here. Not now.

  Stretch has his eyes on me. “What’s up?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Just wonderin’ if you’re okay. You know, everything going on with your mom and dad and Lindsay and everything.”

  “I’m fine. How’s it going with you and Furball?”

  He twists his fingers around each other. Always does that when he’s nervous or uncomfortable. “It’s going. At practice today, she, like, hugged me and kissed me.”

  I lift an eyebrow. X snorts. “She was overwhelmed with completing the simulation,” he says. “She ran to you because you were her teammate. Her lips weren’t even close to yours.”

  I laugh. X laughs. Stretch frowns. “Yeah, fine.” His shoulders droop. “How’s it going with Lindsay?”

  She’s the last thing I want to talk about right now. Luckily for me, the elevator doors beep open. We step off and round the corner toward Lightning’s room. Sweat shines on Stretch’s forehead as his head moves in different directions. I’m nervous, too, but my determination is enough of a driving force. We’re going to uncover what the Blades have planned. Dad will have to believe us. Now that we’re protected under Scar’s telepathic abilities, we have nothing to worry about. Except getting caught.

 

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