The Unseen Trilogy (49 page)

Christmas Day was a quiet affair in my apartment. I hadn’t expected to have the day off, but Agusto’s office was closed, so I wouldn’t have to report to work. Of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t get any demanding text messages. I tried to sleep in, but I couldn’t. I was used to being up first thing on Christmas morning. Maddie and I always used to wake up before her parents and count down until it was what they considered a “reasonable hour” before we started pounding on their door. The tradition had continued into our twenties, although our knocking had become more courteous, and we always came bearing coffee.

Her family had felt like my own, and it hurt me to be so alienated from them. Of course, it was for their own good—David thought it would be too dangerous for them to hear from me. Thinking about being apart from them, not to mention breaking our traditions, made me feel even worse about the day that stretched ahead.

It was my first Christmas without Maddie, and my first with a serious boyfriend, and somehow, I was lying alone in a strange apartment with an unfamiliar haircut, and I didn’t even feel like I knew myself.

As I watched the clock roll over to 7 AM, I felt like crying. It was going to be a long, lonely day.

I didn’t contact Owen to tell him Merry Christmas. I figured I’d let him sleep if he could. Frankly, I had no idea what his Christmas traditions were. He’d been with the Unseen for much of his childhood. Maybe they did their own thing Christmas morning.

Around 10 AM, I was flipping through a magazine in bed, trying to enjoy a cup of coffee, when someone knocked on the door.

That was all it took for me to be on full alert. No one had ever knocked on my door before. Beyond my contacts in the Unseen and the HR folks in Agusto’s building, I wasn’t sure anyone knew my address. Without even wasting a moment to set my coffee down, I silently reached out for the person on the other side of the door. It wasn’t one person; there were four of them. Four totally unarmed nonreaders. Based on their thoughts, they were musicians.

Curious, I got up and padded across the room in my sweats and T-shirt. I grabbed a zip-up sweater off the floor near my bed and wrapped it tightly around my body to give myself a sense of security, if not decency, and opened the door.

“Can I help you?” The four men were holding string instruments—two violins, a viola, and a cello. They were dressed in tuxedos, making me feel horribly out of place in my own home.

“Joyce Nye?” asked one of the violinists.

“Yes…” I trailed off, not sure where this was going.

“May we come in? We’re here to give you a private concert.”

Still wary of them, I dug for more information. “Can I ask who sent you?” If it was Agusto, he knew too much about me, and that would ruin the entire performance. But if Owen had arranged for them to come here, there was a chance I would melt right then and there. Of course, I hadn’t yet done anything for him. I’d figured I would get him a gift later, when I could actually celebrate with him in person.

“We aren’t supposed to tell you. He said he would be in touch later to see if you enjoyed our performance.”

That didn’t exactly set me at ease, but as I watched the cello player shift his rather large instrument case, they didn’t seem like an immediate threat. Suddenly feeling rude, I stepped aside and ushered them into the apartment. “Please, come in. But my place is awfully small. And…well, it’s not the best, acoustically speaking.” Embarrassed, I rushed around and started to pick up clothing that I’d tossed on the floor, but because it was a one-room apartment, I didn’t really have anywhere to stash it. I shoved it under the bed, smiling sheepishly all the while. The men didn’t seem to notice as they set up their stands and equipment right in front of the TV, apparently determining that it was the best spot for their performance.

But then they started playing, their instruments sending a beautifully haunting rendition of Gaspard into my apartment. I’d never heard it arranged for a string quartet before, and it carried me away as I watched their bows fly through the movements. Before I knew it, more than twenty minutes had passed, and they’d played the whole piece.

In the silence that followed the completion of their performance, they rested a moment and got their music in order. I sat with my head tilted back against the wall, one hand clutching my long-cold coffee, reveling in the aftermath of the music. I was so wrapped up in the piece that I didn’t even think to clap for them.

They didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t react. They proceeded to spend the next hour and a half playing a full concert for me, filled with beautiful symphonies and concertos I’d never heard solely on strings. It was a wonderfully unique experience, and it made my Christmas rather magical, even if I was alone.

When they were done, I thanked them profusely.

The lead violin player nodded. “You know, we had to learn that first piece special for you. He was very adamant that we needed to play it first thing. He said we could play whatever we wanted after that, but Gaspard de la Nuit had to come first. When he asked for it, he called it Gasbag de la Noot. It actually took us some time to figure out what he meant.” He shook his head as he said it, and the comment brought tears to my eyes.

“Thank you.” It was Owen. It had to be. He was the only one who called it that. I didn’t think the first time was purposeful, but after that, the name had stuck—our first shared joke.

I found that I was no longer lonely after they left. Instead, I was filled with love and appreciation for the family I had found for myself.

After the holidays, the public rallied to Agusto’s campaign in an unprecedented way. His new website crashed the first day it was up. My mission was starting to feel hopeless.

I’d been working for him for nearly a month, and the only thing we’d really learned—beyond what the public knew—was that he didn’t have the people’s or the country’s best interests in mind.

Amanda and I worked around the clock to get things ready for his official campaign. Because he was running independent, the primaries didn’t really apply to him. So he planned to start trying to win votes in the big states in February. Pollsters were forecasting the lowest turnout at the primaries in history. An unprecedented number of people planned to vote independent in the coming election, and everyone knew what that meant.

One day in the beginning of January, Amanda and I were cleaning up the conference room after a campaign meeting. Potential campaign slogans and sample fliers littered the room.

“The first president I actually remember is Bush. Well, the senior Bush,” I said as I leaned down to pick up a stray flier that had gone under the table.

“I was upset because some of my classmates were talking about how his policies were going to leave all of our parents unemployed. We were only in second grade, and we knew nothing about presidential policies, but it was enough to make me worry. Later that day, I spoke to my a—” I stopped myself before I could get the rest of the word out. She was watching me intensely, with a look of disbelief in her eyes. I cleared my throat. “Anyway, my mom and dad were fine, and they laughed when I voiced my concerns. Kids are so weird.” I chuckled uneasily as I ducked down beneath the table again, desperately searching for something to pick up, a lifeline to save me from what I’d done.

In the complete silence of the room, a chilly sense of foreboding spread over me. It had taken almost a month, but I knew I’d finally done it. I’d connected the dots for her.

I braced myself for her reaction as I stood. She’d always been the kind of person who didn’t yell, and it was in those quiet moments that her wrath was the most frightening. I watched as surprise and then anger flitted across her face. “What the hell are you doing here?” she said, her tone so low and menacing, it gave me goose bumps.

“Amanda…” I trailed off, not sure what to say. Damage control, that was what I needed to do, and yet, I had no clue how I could fix this.

“You ruined my entire life. Why have you come back?”

“No need to be melodramatic. Seems like you’re doing pretty well. VP of a huge company, working closely with a man who might one day be president. Sounds good to me.”

Her eyes widened. “You have no idea what I’ve been through because of you.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But it’s all a result of the choices you’ve made. I’m begging you to make the right choice now.” After spending so much time with her, I knew she was much weaker than me. But I didn’t really want to test her either.

“Choices
I’ve
made? I didn’t
ask
to be your guardian. I didn’t
ask
to get saddled with a kid in what should have been the best years of my life. I didn’t
ask
for you to kill my associate and doom me to this life of slavery.”

“Is that what you are? A slave?”

“I’m certainly not what I once was.” She looked so small when she said it, breaking my heart a little more.

“I tell you what, if you help me, I’m sure the Unseen could find a place for you again. Give you a better life. Two heads are always better than one. And you’re closer to him than I’ll probably ever be. Help us out, and we’ll help you. I’m giving you a choice now.”

I could feel her weak attempt to get past the outermost defenses in my mind. “You’re offering me the option to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. Why would I want to go back to the Unseen after what they did to me?”

“Because they never did you any harm.”

“Is that so? And what do you call my assignment to watch after you for eighteen miserable years?”

“Wow.” After all this time, she still had the power to hurt me.

“You have nowhere to go now, Mackenzie. You’re surrounded by enemies. You won’t get away this time.” She actually believed what she was saying. The genuine smile on her face gave her away.

She closed her eyes and began an all-out attack on me. But she was so weak, her attempts at attacking me were almost sad. “Please, Amanda, reconsider the path you’re going down. Don’t force my hand.”

She ignored me and pressed her attack, getting pushed out by my outer defenses over and over again. But she kept coming back.

The way I saw it, I had a few options. If I let her through, she would get lost in my caves. I could trap her there, walk away, and never come back, or I could kill her and try to finish the mission. Either option was pretty unappealing to me, but I didn’t want to risk the distraction of attempting to communicate with David.

After I threw her out again, she sat back, sweat dripping down her forehead. “Fine, you want to play hardball? I have something that will level the playing field.”

Before I could even think to act, she rushed over to the head of the conference table. Seconds after she reached under the table, I heard a telltale click, and she brought up a small, black pistol of some kind.

I’d never had a gun pointed at me, but I was a lot calmer than I imagined I’d be. I knew deep down Amanda wasn’t a threat to me, armed or not. Quickly and quietly, I reached out for her mind. “Are you really going to shoot me, right here? What would Agusto say about that?” Her defenses were pitiful. Could it have always been this way? Or had they done something to weaken her? Not too long ago, she’d presented herself as such a formidable foe, but after seeing what she’d been reduced to by whatever Agusto and his minions had done to her, it was no wonder her mind had been so affected.

“I think he’d be pleased. He might even let me go.”

“Let you go?” I watched as she leveled the gun at me. But I was already inside her mind. Gently, I encouraged her to put it down.

“Stop.”

“I’m not interested in getting shot today, so I don’t think I will.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “This is the only way.”

“I’ve already told you that it’s not,” I said calmly, trying again to reason with her.

“You don’t understand.” Desperation took her voice up a few notches.

“Then help me to.”

Her hand fell limply to her side, letting the gun dangle, and I was bombarded with memories, starting way back when David had first asked her to take me in.

“She can’t know you’re a reader. I don’t want her to know about this world. She must be kept safe. You’re one of our most skilled readers. I’m counting on you.”

“I’m not a mother, David.” She frowned down at my tiny body, clutched awkwardly in her arms. “And I’m not suited to be a single parent. I like being on my own too much. This isn’t the right assignment for me.” She held me out to him. “I can’t do this. Please, find someone else.”

“There is no one else. She’ll die if you don’t.”

“What kind of life will she have if I do? I won’t love her, David. I can’t. I hate her already for what I’m being asked to do for her.” Her honesty was brutal, but I was gratified to know she’d fought for my best interests, if only that one time.

“There is no one else.” He said it slow, and the memory faded. Next were flashes of her transition to the Potestas, my capture, my imprisonment, and then the memories slowed to focus on the time just after my escape.

“Dylan?” He’d gone limp in his chair and fallen to the floor. “No. You’re our only connection to the girl. No. Fight! You can’t do this to me. I’m as good as dead. You have to fight. Think of your wife, your little boy. Fight, damn you!” she cried, but it was too late. I’d already crushed that last memory. And he died at her feet.