The Pretender (The Soren Chase Series Book 2) (14 page)

Soren shifted uneasily in his chair, still in pain.

“We’re stronger and faster than a lot of creatures,” Soren argued. “We’re also hard to kill.”

Friday rolled her eyes again. “A lot of things are hard to kill, Soren,” Friday said in a tone that suggested she was talking to an idiot. “You were a moron to walk in there knowing nothing.”

“You have a better plan?” Glen asked.

“Of course, I do,” Friday said. “Recon, infiltration, execution. Your problem is you still think like an aussenseiter
.
”

The criticism hit Soren hard, at least partly because the flaw in his strategy was so obvious. He’d assumed being nearly indestructible gave him an advantage over others, something he could exploit. But Rakev seemed just as impervious, and even more powerful. Soren had fought four pretenders, and none of them had struck him head on. He’d always had to smoke them out.

“Think about it,” Friday said. “We can still get hurt, punched, kicked. Hell, do you know what they used to do to us? When aussenseiter caught one of us, they would hack us into five pieces and bury each one underground in stone boxes we couldn’t escape from. Very few of our kind survived that.”

Soren wasn’t used to feeling stupid, but he did now. He’d wasted the past two months trying to end his existence, when he should have been learning more about himself. And now Alex might be lost because Soren hadn’t been ready.

Rakev had beaten him without so much as breaking a sweat. The question was: What was Soren going to do about it? Lochlan said he should run away, but that wasn’t an option. Preparing another assault also seemed foolhardy. If he faced Rakev again, he would know Soren wasn’t human—and this time he would be unlikely to escape with his life. He needed a new strategy.

“First, we need to do more research on Rakev,” Soren said. “He was like nothing I’ve ever encountered—or even heard of. Glen, you need to get in touch with the Wallace Institute and see what you can help them dig up.”

“And what are you going to do?” Glen asked.

Soren looked over at Friday, who looked nonplussed. She seemed to know where he was headed.

“Will you help me?” Soren asked her.

“Depends on your plan,” she said. “I’m not a frontal assault kind of girl.”

Soren took a deep breath. “We need three things,” Soren began. “The first is to understand what Rakev is doing and why, so we can stop it. The second is to find a way to kill him. And lastly, I need to stop pretending I’m Soren Chase.”

Terry appeared obnoxiously self-satisfied, but Glen seemed uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “If you’re not him, who are you?”

Soren shook his head.

“I’m going to have to figure that part out,” he said softly.

“And what if you get your real memories back and decide to kill us all?” Glen said. “Have you thought about that?”

Soren had. It was his greatest fear, that he would become Falk again and actually make the situation worse. But he needed every advantage he could get. He was no good to Alex and Sara as he was now, living some kind of twilight existence, pretending to be someone he wasn’t. He couldn’t risk losing Alex because he’d been afraid to find out more about what he could do.

“You’ve been splintered before,” Soren said to Friday. “Could that happen?”

She looked thoughtful.

“It’s a definite possibility,” she said. “It’s hard to predict how you’ll react.”

Soren shook his head. It didn’t matter.

“It’s a risk I have to take,” he said.

“Actually, I think we’re the ones taking the risk,” Glen replied. “Just pointing that out.”

“Would you rather Alex die? Because that’s the only other option I see. Terry was right from the beginning,” Soren said.

He looked at Friday.

“I have to stop running from what I’ve done, and figure out how to turn it to my advantage,” he said, looking at Friday. “And for that, I need a teacher. I need to know how to be a pretender.”

Sara slammed down the laptop in frustration.

She hadn’t left the office, sleeping on her couch for a fitful two-hour stretch in the early morning. Since then, she’d been combing the Internet and the institute’s own databases looking for anything connected to Silas Rakev. But even with Wallace’s impressive research capabilities, she’d found nothing.

“This is getting us nowhere,” she said to herself.

Ken picked that moment to walk into her office. He crossed the room and put his hand over hers.

“We’ve just started.”

She took Ken’s hand. She didn’t feel much better, but having him here, including dealing with the police for her, was an immense relief.

“Did they find anything?” she asked without hope.

The police had followed Ken’s tip last night to the warehouse, only to find it burning down. She looked up into Ken’s face and got all the answer she needed.

“Shit,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to get Alex back.”

Alex liked Ken. He had desperately needed a father figure and Ken had relished the opportunity to play the part. Watching the two of them throw a ball in the backyard, or letting Ken take Alex to a Nationals game had warmed her heart. If she got Alex back—when she got Alex back, she corrected herself—she would give Ken another chance. He’d more than earned it. And she would tell him everything. All these secrets were tearing her apart inside. But she just didn’t have the energy now.

“Take a break,” Ken said. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee, and then we’ll start again. We’ll find something. Okay?”

She reluctantly agreed, starting out of her office toward the coffee machine.

“No, not that shit,” Ken said. “Let’s walk over to the Starbucks. Come on, it will be good to give your brain a break.”

“But what if somebody calls?” she asked.

Wallace had come out of his own office and was standing nearby.

“If we find something, I’ll call you immediately,” he said. “You should go.”

Wallace was gruff and downright unlikeable at times, but he appeared legitimately worried about her. If he thought it was a good idea for her to get some fresh air, maybe she should do that. She grabbed her coat and they headed for the elevator. As Ken pressed the button, Sara jammed her hands into her pockets. She felt a piece of paper in her left hand.

She pulled the paper out and looked at it. It took a moment to recognize it as the drawing Alex had given her just before he was taken. In all the chaos that followed, she’d completely forgotten about it.

Normally, he drew things like volcanoes exploding or alien spaceships. She’d been particularly impressed with one he’d done in October of the Headless Horseman, which for some reason he’d labeled “The Prince of Sanheim.”

But this wasn’t like Alex’s usual work. It wasn’t a single drawing at all, but three different objects—a knife, a strangely shaped gun, and something else she couldn’t make out.

“Are you coming?” Ken asked.

She looked up to see him holding the elevator door. She held up at the drawing. “Alex gave me this. I think it means something.”

She turned and walked back into the office before he could respond. When she walked back in, she went quickly into Wallace’s office. He looked up in surprise when she came in.

“Decided you hate coffee?” he asked.

She handed him the paper.

“Alex drew this, just before he was taken,” she said. “I think it’s a message. God, I’m so stupid. He told me I was going to need this, but I was too worried and then he was taken, and I—”

Wallace grasped her arm.

“No point in that now,” he said. “Let’s take a look.”

He smoothed out the paper on his desk as Ken came walking in behind her, looking confused.

Of the three drawings on the paper, the knife was the most detailed. It looked like something Alex might have traced from a book. The blade itself was curved and had jagged edges. Alex must have been working on it a while.

The handle to the knife appeared to have inset jewels and a symbol on it. Sara looked closer to see it was an animal’s eye—maybe a cat’s?

The other two drawings looked more rushed. One was some kind of futuristic gun. It had rounded edges, and everything about it had a sleek appearance, like something out of
Star Trek
. Alex had colored it in using a silver crayon.

The last was barely a drawing. It was as if Alex started drawing several different things, erasing each one before starting over. The final shape was unclear, but Sara thought it looked vaguely familiar.

“Is that a cannon?” she asked.

Wallace took a closer look at the paper.

“As good a guess as any,” he replied. “Any idea what any of this means? Is Alex into weapons?”

Sara shook her head.

“No more than any boy,” she said.

Ken cleared his throat and Sara looked up.

“Look, I hate to bring this up,” he said. “But are you sure it means anything? It’s a drawing, Sara, one he probably did in class while he was bored.”

“He knew, Ken,” Sara said. “He knew he was going to be taken. I think this is a clue to finding him.”

The look on his face was deeply skeptical. Even after everything Ken had seen, there were some leaps of faith he wasn’t ready to make.

Wallace began barking orders.

“McDermott! Get in here now!” he said.

Alice appeared in the doorway within seconds. She looked tired, with bags under her eyes, but also alert and ready to help.

“I need you to switch gears,” Wallace said. “Take a look at this.”

He handed her the drawings and Alice stared at them.

“This was done by Alex shortly before he disappeared,” Wallace said. “According to our source, the boy was taken because he’s psychic. If that’s really true, there could be some clues here. Leave Olson’s team, but divide everyone else into four groups. One stays focused on researching the name Rakev. The other three each take a drawing here. One on the knife, one on the gun, and the other on the cannon.”

Alice nodded. “What am I looking for?” she asked.

“Anything,” Wallace said. “Don’t make assumptions, just collect data. Find anything in the real world that resembles these pictures.”

“The cannon looks like every cannon,” Alice said. “Doubt that will get you anywhere.”

Well, Sara thought, at least Alice saw the cannon, too.

“Then find any place in this city that has one,” Wallace said.

Alice nodded crisply. “We’re on it.”

She turned on her heel and walked out.

“Great find, that one,” Wallace said.

“What about us?” Ken asked. “What are we looking at?”

“I need you to search the police database for the knife or the gun,” he said.

“That could take forever.”

“You aren’t looking for any switchblade. The knife in that drawing looks like it’s worth something; it could even be quite valuable. Probably an object of historical significance. Get started.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” Ken said sarcastically, and left the office.

Wallace looked at Sara.

“I like him,” he said. “You make a good couple.”

“So glad I have your approval.”

She and Wallace had become close in the past two months. He was the only one she’d been completely honest with about the events in Reapoke Forest. But she sometimes bristled at his paternalistic attitude toward her. She changed the subject.

“What if Ken’s right? What if this is just a scribble from Alex, something he did while he was bored?”

Wallace shook his head.

“We’ve been told time and again that he was special,” Wallace said. “And clearly Rakev wants him specifically. He’s not kidnapping all children, just ‘special’ ones. So we have to assume Alex knew more than he was saying.”

“Do you think he is psychic?”

“Can I ask you a question?” Wallace said. “Alex’s father . . . was he psychic?”

That was a more complicated question than Wallace knew, but she decided to treat it at face value.

“John was into the supernatural,” Sara said. “But he never said anything about being psychic.”

“He may have kept it from you,” Wallace said. “Even if he wasn’t, we have reason to believe Alex is. So we need to trust him. And I don’t mean to be dire about it, but at the moment, we’ve got nothing else. That’s one of the reasons I’m treating this so seriously. If this isn’t a clue . . .”

Wallace didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. If this wasn’t a clue, they had no other leads. If this didn’t pan out, there was every chance that they may never get Alex back.

When the sun hit Soren’s eyes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. He slid them on his face, and felt marginally better.

He’d managed to find these in his apartment, which he’d hurriedly vacated last night. He didn’t think Rakev would be watching him—why bother to tail a person you thought was dead?—but it wouldn’t do to take chances, either. He’d collected some clothes and a few of his research books, and moved into Glen’s place. That wasn’t ideal since the place was a pigsty, but he couldn’t bear to go to Terry’s and he didn’t have any other friends.

Not that he’d ever consider Terry a friend again. Every time he looked at the old man, he wanted to shake him.

He looked out over the rocks and down at the water below. When he’d woken up early this morning, he felt far better than the evening before. His movements no longer caused him pain, and the only reminder of his failure to defeat Rakev was a slight numbness at the back of his neck, as if the nerves were still trying to restitch themselves.

Meanwhile, the other pretender, Friday, had disappeared. He considered the possibility that she’d abandoned them, but in the morning there was a note by Glen’s sofa. Somehow she’d sneaked in during the night, which unnerved Soren.

“Meet me at Great Falls Park at nine,” the note said. She’d added a smiley face at the end of it.

He had no idea why she’d chosen this place, but it was certainly beautiful. Walking into the park, he’d heard the roar of the massive waterfalls and followed the signs to the observation point. From there, he could look down on the falls.