Manipulation (Shadows) (21 page)

ONE

Kara

The Middlemen work beca
use we work outside of boundaries. Outside of government boundaries, political boundaries, company boundaries. We are our own entity, and as I flip through the electronic file of Landon Michaels, I have to wonder if these four people have any idea how idiotic they’re being.

And Landon. I’ve watched him since I was a kid, knowing at some point he’d probably join us. His father didn’t see any signs of his gift until Micah moved in next door. Landon’s lack of talent probably wouldn’t have affected the way I watched him—though, talented is better. I can’t imagine being with someone…
normal
.

“We’ll be there in just a few minutes, Kara.” The driver’s voice comes through the speaker into the back of the car, like almost always.

I hate it when a car is sent for me. I’d much rather drive myself—even though I’ve been traveling for weeks.

I scan the pictures of the four faces again. Addison and Landon should have joined the Middlemen for sure. Their fathers basically gave up the strength of their abilities to help recruit and keep us in the business and political world. Many of our new recruits have parents who allowed themselves to be separated from others with abilities, knowing theirs would fade.

Dean and Micah weren’t even on our radar. We knew they existed, of course, but without parental involvement, or contact with others like us, they weren’t worth collecting. A mistake I’m relieved wasn’t mine. Micah’s dad’s talent is mediocre at best, so we planned on ignoring her. Dean didn’t exist to us at all until he hooked up with Addison Prince.

Too bad I don’t have interview transcripts of what was spoken of between Senator Michaels, who is Landon’s dad, and Mr. Prince, who is Addison’s father. Both would be helpful—give me some kind of idea how to bring them in. Well. If I’m given the assignment.

As I glance over the face of Landon Michaels again, I really hope that even if I’m not given the assignment, that he comes in. Landon and I are the same age, and I’ve only met him once, but the promise of him joining us is always there, despite the current girlfriend (it’s not like he hasn’t had his share of girls). And I know his dad. Well.

I sigh as I flip through the logs detailing the several accounts over the past month to get in contact with Landon. He’s ditched his cell phone and he’s so much more talented than he realizes, because we can’t find a
sailboat
. It’s not like he’s super speedy, but we can’t catch engine noise either, so maybe he’s planning a lot more carefully than he let on to his dad.

And now that they’re together? Three different gifts, in such a small space? Their energy is just going to feed off each other, and pretty soon they might actually be a force to be reckoned with. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen. Well, hopefully mine after the several failed attempts by people who have been doing this a lot longer than I have. Eighteen doesn’t exactly put me in the top ranks of The Middle Men.

My phone rings and I snatch it up, sometimes really hating that my parents run this organization.

“Yes?” I snap.

“I can feel your brain wheels turning from here. I see you’re about five minutes out, still.” Dad’s voice is patient, as always, and I think again that if he’d let Mom take over more than she does, The Middle Men could accomplish a lot more. She isn’t afraid to go ahead with risky decisions. Like Dad doesn’t touch American politics outside of Senator Michaels, and I know Mom would be willing to cash in there if Dad was cool with it. We have our hands in everything else.

“About five. Yes.” I only half listen to him as I look through the partial phone logs, and any information that could be the key to bringing them in.

If they’d come to talk with us the first time, we wouldn’t be trying to simply arrest them to talk. But we only survive on secrecy, and they’re about to blow it. A couple hundred years ago, my gift was considered one of the weaker ones, but with the way The Middle Men has grown, people who can seek out talents the way I can have become imperative. We’re both the collectors of new talent, and police the talent that we’ve already collected. No one else could. Insighters can see us coming, and Manipulators could tell us we don’t want to be there. Shields can slow me down. But Seekers, as Mom puts it, see through all the BS, and do what needs to be done.

We also have to be the best at blocking the talents of everyone else. It’s the perfect job for someone like me—structured and methodical with room for creative hunting.

I hold my breath waiting for Dad to tell me why he called when I’m so clearly almost there.

“You’re one of our most talented Seekers,” he begins.

“So, I have it, right?” I ask, still holding my breath and doing everything in my power to sound normal and like I don’t care.

“Yes. You have it. We’ll see you in a few.”

I hang up and let my grin spread before I need to put my game face back on.

I itch all over with the desire to be put on their trail.

Seeker. It’s what I do best.

***

The south Florida air hits me with hot dampness as I step out of the car. We’re set up in a two hundred year old estate, which I grew up on. The driveway is more like a parking lot, but we like to keep the numbers low. It’s a lot of energy for one household, even though all of The Middle Men need to be here at different times. With barely over a hundred of us in total, it’s not too difficult, but I’m also glad it’s not my job to manage everyone.

Well. Not yet.

I smooth down my linen pants and step up the sidewalk in my four-inch wedges. At five feet, two, I’ll get height from wherever I can.

The obnoxious racket of some pop music blasts me as I walk through the front door, and see some lame dancing game on the screen with four people about my age gyrating like morons in what used to be a formal dining room—not my thing.

I recognize Blaire, Warren and Digs, but the blond guy isn’t familiar, and he’s adding steps everywhere. I mean, they work, and he moves
really
well…

They’re focused on the TV, and I continue to watch until he spins around (not part of the routine) and our eyes catch.

My heart jumps, but I’m not going to react to some smirk from a guy who can’t even follow directions on a video game. I slide a loose strand of dark hair behind my ear (not easy when it’s cut so short) and slowly walk away so he doesn’t think that I feel like I was caught staring.

Because I wasn’t.

I’ve never gotten along with the people here my age. They’re ridiculous and seem to have no idea how important what we do is. For example: we have three people right now just keeping the Saudi prince alive. He pays well for it, too. Being in this house is supposed to be training, and they’re playing
video games.

I walk past the large staircase, and several more rooms before reaching the offices in the back of the house, which is actually part of an enormous addition.

I smooth down my pants again as I reach for Mom and Dad’s office door.

“It’s a little early for a scowl.” Mom’s brow rises as I step into her office. We’re both an even five foot three, and have the same short brown hair, and wide brown eyes. At fifty she still looks great, so I don’t mind too much that we look so alike.

“How was the trip?” she asks.

I sit as she slides into her office chair next to Dad but lean forward. “Aren’t we going to talk about my new assignment?”

“As soon as we wrap up your last one.” Dad turns from his computer and rests his hands on his desk. He and Mom share an office more often than not—they’re weird that way and like being together.

For as terra cotta and traditional Florida-like the rest of the house is, the offices are state of the art. An abhorrence as Dad says, and Mom loves.

I sigh. “One I think we should bring in, the other two aren’t going to pose a threat—”

“Find any unexpected talent while you were perousing colleges?” Mom leans forward. This is the part she loves the best. Dad’s an Insighter. Mom’s a Seeker like me. They met in this house thirty-five years ago, and have been together ever since.

Dad keeps watching me like I’ll some how magnetize to someone like so many of us do, but I always laugh and tell him not to hold his breath. I’m going to choose who I want to spend my life with, not let my talent dictate it.

“Only one new talent worth collecting, maybe two.” I sigh and lean back in my chair. “But the girl from California’s promising. I feel like she’s a Manipulator, but might have some Insight in there somewhere. Like she paused just before touching someone, and I got the sense that she knew it wasn’t going to turn out.” I shrug, but I know it’s a big deal and incredibly useful.

“Well.” Mom’s deep brown eyes shine. “Sounds lucrative.”

I nod.

“All your findings are in the computer, right?” Dad asks as he spins his chair back toward his computer.

“Yes.”
Now can we talk about my new assignment?

Dad’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “You’re about as patient as your mother. We need your partner in here before we give you the full run-down.”

“Uh…”
Partner
? I’ve never worked with a partner. And since I was raised in this house, I was able to work a lot younger than most people do. It’s a pain having anyone younger than eighteen because they’re so restricted with travel and operating in the normal world. Even younger than twenty-one can be tricky, but I’ve managed pretty well doing smaller assignments since I was twelve or so.

The shadows leave you alone when you’re that young, so there were advantages.

My point being, that this is a long time to be working alone to suddenly be stuck with a
partner
.

Dad presses a button for the house intercom. “Ocean. Now would be good.”

“Have we started using code names now too?” I try not to snap, but I’m not sure how well I do.

Dad chuckles. “I’m warning you right now that you two might not get along, but I’ve never seen talent like this kid. His seeking skills are…” Dad shakes his head. “For being raised completely outside of our community, it’s astounding.”

Now I’m not only nervous about having a partner, but there’s a pang of jealousy over my dad talking about some kid like he’s got serious talent.
I’m
the serious talent.

“I’m here.” Blond guy bursts through the door, his grey T-shirt blotchy with sweat, and his hair damp with the same thing.

Oh. Hell. No.

Mom gives me the glare that says I’d better keep my mouth shut, so I do. I shift my chair a little further away from Ocean, and wait for him to sit down.

Which he does not.

He’s staring at me, and I’m trying to be as nice as I can be, and the only way to do that is to not look at him, but I can feel his eyes burning into the side of my head.

“Wow.” He breathes out, still looking at me.

I whirl around before taking a moment to think. “What?” I snap.

He seems totally unfazed by my tone, which is weirdly unusual.

“I didn’t get to say it before, but just…” He eyes me up and down again, and it seems like it should feel creepy or something with how open he’s being
in front of my parents
, but it doesn’t feel creepy. But that still doesn’t mean I’m okay sitting here while he checks me out. “It’s just that you’re really stunning in this strong, kickass way, and I guess I’m surprised.”

I cross my arms as he sits down, still openly looking at me.

“Lucky me,” I hiss before sitting back in my chair wishing I was wearing more than a black tank.

“And on that note,” Dad adds brightly, “at least you always know where you stand with Ocean. For example, I’m younger and less evil than he suspected when he first showed up.”

Some smile of understanding passes between Dad and Ocean, and I don’t like it. At all.

“What do you mean
showed up
?” I lean forward to ask Dad, but realize the culprit is right here so I turn to face Ocean. “What does he mean?”

“Any decent Seeker would be drawn to this place, and since it was so concentrated, I figured it would be some withered up old guy, but Mr. Marins isn’t all that withered.”

“Of course he’s not.” I scowl.

Ocean shrugs. “Watched too many movies I guess.”

Too much
something
. I nearly prevent my eyes from rolling, but I’m not trying to impress him so whatever.

“I’m just going to jump in,” Mom says, and I’m relieved to be moving on to business. I can dump my “sidekick” later on.

“Senator Michaels is not on our good list right now.”

“But he worked more directly with you when he was younger, didn’t he?” Ocean asks.

It’s Dad that answers this one. He and Michaels trained together. “Yes. But we need a lot of people to carry on normal lives, see where we can best affect change, or—”

“Where boatloads of money is.” Mom smirks as she elbows Dad a little.

My parents are the best side of that whole “opposites-attract” thing. I think they’re one in a million because even people who get along great can’t manage to stay together, and my parents argue all the time, but still love one another with a crazy amount of intensity that no child should have to witness.