XGeneration (Book 4): Pressure Drop Read online

  “Hey,” she said as Tyler turned to go. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, of course.” When he smiled, something painful lingered in the depths of his eyes. “Anything for you.” He disappeared from the kitchen. The front door opened on the sound of receding rain and growing sirens, and then closed.

  Janis slipped an arm behind Amy until her friend was nestled against her. Then she rested the back of her own head against the cabinet, closed her eyes, and exhaled through her nose.

  In the silence of the kitchen, Tyler’s words hovered like lead balloons.

  Anything for you.

  13

  Saturday, September 28

  10:05 p.m.

  Jesse could read the telltale signs of anger. The rock-solid angles of his jaw, the shine of sweat at his temples, the dilation of his pupils. And he was pacing with less than his usual finesse, his about-faces hard, almost jerking.

  “Do you think this is a game?” Director Kilmer stopped to ask the six of them.

  The strategy room remained deathly quiet.

  “I thought I made it more than clear that there was to be no use of powers on the outside. No unnecessary associating. And yet two of you managed to break both rules in a single evening. You also completely blew off the curfew rule. Janis, you left Oakwood under a false pretense. And you, Tyler, left without permission.”

  A sharp kick landed against Jesse’s shin. When he glanced over, he found Creed’s eyes shining with glee as though to say, Can you believe it’s not us getting bawled out this time?

  “I’m putting you both on probation,” Kilmer said.

  “What does that mean?” Janis asked, her cheeks flaming red.

  Kilmer raised two fingers. “You’ve got this many strikes against you. One more and you’re done as a Champion. You think I’m bluffing? If you’re determined to be a liability to the Program, no amount of talent is going to make up for that. You’d be better off on the outside.”

  Scott looked stricken, but Kilmer’s response only seemed to have pissed Janis off more. “So if we see someone in danger, we’re supposed to just sit on our hands?” she shot back. “Pretend nothing’s happening? That might work fine in your world, but it doesn’t cut it in mine.”

  “You should have talked to us first.”

  “And what would you have done?”

  “Explored the alternatives. As it was, we had to wipe your friend’s aunt. She was babbling to her doctors about witchcraft and demonic spells—did you know that? We also had to place a forged note in your friend’s medical chart explaining the cauterization of her wound. Do you not see how what you did drew attention to yourselves? To the Program?”

  “Neither of us used our powers until we had to,” Janis said. “I was staring up at a gun barrel, in case you’ve forgotten. And Amy was about to bleed out, hence the need to burn her wound closed.” She turned her head slightly, as though to include Tyler, who was sitting several chairs down.

  “And who put you in that position?” Kilmer asked.

  When Janis didn’t answer but only stared back, he nodded in a way that said, Exactly. “Look—and this goes for all of you.” He resumed pacing. “We understand the situation we’ve put you in. We get it. On the one hand, we’re telling you to live normal teenaged lives. On the other, we’re asking you to suppress impulses that are going to arise in the course of those lives. Such as using your abilities to retaliate or to help someone in need. But when those impulses do arise, talk to us. It costs far less to prevent a mistake than to clean one up.”

  “How long does the probation last?” Tyler asked.

  “Thirty days. Any more questions?” Kilmer looked around the table. “All right, you’re dismissed for the night.”

  Jesse remained sitting as the others stood and filed out, Creed chasing after Tyler, wanting to know what the dressing down had been about. Director Kilmer watched them with severe eyes before sighing and dragging a hand through his hair. He noticed Jesse sitting across the table.

  “Something I can do for you?” he asked.

  “I’d like to talk.”

  “Sure thing.” He took the chair across from him. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Where did I come from?”

  Kilmer propped his elbows on the table, hands clasped at his lips. He regarded Jesse for a long moment.

  “I already know I’m adopted. I want to know from where. From who.”

  “From whom,” Kilmer corrected him, then sat back in his chair. “As far as we’re concerned, Butch and Lily Hoag are your parents.”

  “I didn’t ask who my parents are. I asked where I came from.”

  The skin around Kilmer’s eyes wrinkled into a you-got-me admission. Jesse often surprised people with his ability to filter out their noise.

  “What makes you think the Program knows?” Kilmer asked.

  “Because I’m an enhanced human, and your researchers would’ve wanted to know why. The first place they would’ve looked is at my family tree. Butch and Lily aren’t on that tree.”

  “Let me rephrase that. What makes you think our researchers found anything?”

  Jesse knew the game Kilmer was playing. The kids Jesse had once punished used to play the same game: trying to learn how much he really knew about their offense in the hopes of wrangling out a lesser sentence. Similarly, Kilmer was trying to reveal the least amount of information he could get away with.

  “Did they or didn’t they?” Jesse asked.

  Kilmer studied Jesse’s giant hands before crossing a leg. “There are certain aspects of the Program I know very little about. The work of the research arm being one. I don’t need that information to do my job here, you see? Compartmentalization, Jesse. It’s what keeps you and the others safe.”

  “But you can get that information.”

  “I can request it. But there are no guarantees the request would be approved. Where your abilities come from,” he said, gesturing toward Jesse and the chairs in which the other Champions had been sitting, “is considered a matter of national security. We don’t want certain countries—certain adversaries—acquiring that information. It’s why we guard it so closely.”

  “But you’ll request it?”

  Kilmer sighed. “I can see how important it is to you. All right, if you’re willing to wait until after the mission in Europe—and you commit no infractions between now and then—I’ll put in the request.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Because, frankly, it’s going to distract you from your training. Christ knows, we’ve had enough distractions lately. Let’s face it, once you receive your mother’s name, her address, you’re going to want to see her, right? That would be understandable. But our schedule won’t permit it. Not now. After Europe, you’re going to have a nice long break.”

  Jesse stared at Kilmer. The director’s eyes stared back. The man had conceded all he was going to concede. Jesse was preparing to give another shove, to test his resolve, when Kilmer spoke again.

  “This interest in where you came from—can I ask what prompted it?”

  From the back of Jesse’s thoughts rose the thundering voice of the caller: Start by asking your parents. Then you might try your luck with that outfit you’re associating with.

  “Curiosity,” Jesse answered.

  Director Kilmer leaned forward. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  Jesse had no good reason to lie, none that he could think of, but something was telling him to protect the caller, to safeguard the business cards, at least until he could sort out who could be trusted.

  “Jesse, I’m going to tell you something that I want to keep between us for now.” He stood and strode to the door to close it. “Do you remember the talk we had about mercenaries the other week? Janis’s intuition was closer than we were prepared to acknowledge at the time. We planned to meet with you one on one in the coming week, but since you’re already here, we might as well meet now. There are still the Russian mercenaries we’ve been alerting you
to—and that Steel’s team is equipped to handle—but there’s another group we’re just as concerned about. A domestic group whose tactics are likely to be more subtle.”

  Distrust stewed in Jesse’s gut. “Subtle how?” he asked.

  “We have good reason to believe this group is interested in recruiting Champions to their side. They would start by planting doubts—perhaps about who you are, where you come from—in an attempt to drive a wedge between us and you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He squinted slightly, as though expecting Jesse to disclose something, if not through words than by his reaction.

  But Jesse only stared back.

  “I’m going to repeat what I said at the last meeting,” Kilmer continued. “If someone tries to contact you, you’re to tell us immediately. These are dangerous, dangerous people, no matter what they claim or promise. Got it?” He watched Jesse even more intently.

  “Got it,” Jesse muttered.

  “Was there anything else?”

  Director Kilmer hadn’t answered his question. Neither had his parents. The man on the phone had said they wouldn’t. So far, it seemed he was the only one who could be trusted.

  “No,” Jesse said, pushing himself to his feet. “Not now.”

  14

  Friday, October 11

  7:24 p.m.

  “I have a reservation for Spruel,” Scott said in as manly a voice as he could summon. “For two.”

  The middle-aged hostess ran a finger down her booklet, smiled, and motioned for him to follow her. Scott allowed Janis to go first as they wound their way through the dining room, to a small white-clothed table in front of a window. With an air of importance, Scott drew out Janis’s chair and was offended when the hostess gave him a how adorable look.

  She handed them two leather-bound menus. With a click, she lit the table’s candle. “Got a school dance tonight?” she asked, looking over Scott’s sports jacket and Janis’s collared shirt. “I guess it’s too early for prom, but—”

  “No,” Scott said, cutting her off. “This is a business meeting.”

  The hostess looked at him quizzically, her smile fading. “Oh. Well, I’ll be back with a couple of waters.”

  “There’s no hurry,” Scott assured her.

  Janis turned from the departing hostess to Scott. In the candle light, her combed-down hair glowed a soft orange. “Wow, way to kick off our date,” she said. “What was that about?”

  “You couldn’t feel her condescension?”

  “Scott, she thought we were a cute couple. That was all. The sight of us whisked her back to high school and her first love.” A shadow passed over her face. “Sadly, her current marriage is on the rocks. Money issues. Condescension? If anything, she worships us. Well, before you kicked the legs out from under her.”

  “You picked up all of that?” he asked. Her growing powers continued to amaze him.

  “Not intentionally,” she said, “but yeah.”

  “All right, now I feel bad.” Scott gazed out the window onto a plaza. Across from them rose the town’s historic theater, where a marquee displayed movie times for their next stop, Back to the Future. “It’s just that I wanted to take you out on a proper date, not be made to feel like we were playing dress-up in our parents’ clothes. Maybe I’m a little sensitive because your dad had to drive us.”

  “He didn’t mind.”

  “Maybe not the driving part, but I’m pretty sure he minded that his daughter’s date was me, the boy who outed him as a watcher.”

  “I told you, he’s over that.”

  Reflecting on the stiff silence in the car, Scott doubted that very much. “Well, better your parents driving us than mine,” he mumbled. He didn’t want to think about what mortifications either one of them would have uttered—his father, especially. He sighed as he straightened his glasses. “Man, the big one-six can’t come soon enough. Driving age.” Then, before he could take the words back, “Of course that never seems to stop Tyler.”

  “Scott,” Janis said, cocking her head in annoyance.

  The hostess returned with a pitcher of water. She looked warily from Janis to Scott as she filled their glasses.

  “How many times do I have to explain why I called him instead of you?” Janis asked after the hostess had retreated. “And it’s not because he drives that truck. Amy was gushing blood all over the floor. The phone line was dead. I’d seen Tyler cauterize a wound before—the time we went to Tallahassee—and I knew he’d be able to help in a way that none of the others could. I’m sorry, Scott, but that included you.”

  The reminder that Tyler had driven her to Tallahassee at the end of the summer landed in Scott’s lower stomach like a sucker punch. “And now you’re both on probation,” he muttered. “Great.”

  “Is that what this is about? Me being on probation?”

  The idea of never seeing her again shook him, of course. Badly. But he had also been harboring this dreadful thought of Janis and Tyler being expelled together and then hooking up on the outside. All while he was trapped on the inside.

  “Well, you don’t seem terribly concerned about it,” he said.

  “If I don’t seem concerned, it’s because my probation’s already half over, and I’m pretty sure I can restrain myself for the next two weeks. The circumstances at Amy’s were … unique.”

  With each sensible answer she gave, Scott felt more and more like a dipshit. The night out had been her idea, a chance for them to take a deep breath from training, to enjoy the other’s exclusive company. But some inimical part of Scott seemed determined to sabotage their date before it even began, as though he were under the possession of gremlins.

  Yeah, he thought, and those gremlins are called jealousy.

  “Is Amy all right?” he asked, scooting his chair in.

  “She had to have another surgery, but she’s back home now. She started therapy for her leg, and she’s going to counseling. She finally told her parents what happened. Turns out Aunt Pat wasn’t right upstairs. She’s been committed to a psychiatric detention center.”

  Scott reached across the table and took her hand. “You did the right thing, you know. Helping her. Even calling Tyler.” He swallowed. “You’re right. I wouldn’t have been much good in that situation.”

  Janis’s mouth crimped into a sad smile.

  He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Can we start our date over?” he whispered.

  She nodded, though a certain regret clung to her face. Her lips parted, as though she were going to say something, but the waiter arrived at that moment and began to recite the dinner specials. Janis ordered the red snapper, while Scott chose the sirloin steak and a baked potato with the works. Money was one thing he didn’t have to worry about tonight.

  “All right,” Scott said, waving his hands in front of him as though performing magic. “Real date begins now.”

  “Presto.” One corner of Janis’s mouth stretched upward. “When you told the hostess this was a business meeting, you weren’t entirely being a jerk, were you? You did bring something business related.”

  “How did you know?”

  “That you were being a jerk?”

  “No, no—” Scott caught himself and burst out laughing. A distinguished-looking couple at a neighboring table swiveled their frosted heads toward them in disapproval. “Well, you already knew the jerk part,” he whispered, “but what about how I brought something business related?”

  “Because I can hear it shifting around in the back of your pants.”

  Scott clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from braying more laughter. Janis had to do the same to stifle her giggles.

  Scott took a sip of water. “I thought you were going to say you felt something. Speaking of which, this thing is starting to chaff pretty bad.” Amid fresh laughter (Stuffy-looking couple be damned, Scott thought), he reached back beneath his jacket tail and withdrew a manila folder. He watched Janis’s smooth brow furrow over as she accepted it.

&nbs
p; “What is it?”

  “A dossier on our yardman friend, courtesy of Wayne and company.”

  Wayne had delivered the folder to him after school with his usual triumphant flourish. Of course, he’d demanded his payment before handing anything over. As Scott had counted off the twenties, he wondered whether Craig or Chun would ever see any of that money.

  He watched Janis set the folder down and begin leafing through it, pausing occasionally to scan a document. Though he loved seeing her laugh, she was never more striking than when her mind was wholly engaged in some puzzle. He watched her brows draw in, her lower lip pout out.

  “And…?” she asked.

  Scott blinked the fugue from his vision. “And his history’s all there.”

  “So far it looks pretty pedestrian.”

  “Yeah, but for a couple of things.” He reached across and flipped to the second page of the dossier. “The way Mr. Shine talks, I always assumed he was born and raised around here, back when the area was mostly rural. You know, rutted dirt roads and wagons. Turns out he’s from New York City. The man’s urban through and through. He lived there until his mid-forties.”

  “Is that when he moved here?”

  “Eventually. According to state and utility records, he spent some time in Virginia, then bounced up to Pennsylvania, over to Colorado, down to Georgia—but he never stayed in those places for more than a year.”

  “Until he came to Florida,” she said.

  “Exactly. It was like he was looking for something, and now he’s found it.”

  Janis flipped back to the first page of typed information. “But he is who he claims to be, right?”

  “As far as Wayne could tell, yeah: Adrian C. Shine. His birth certificate and social security number checked out, so either it’s really him, or he’s got someone really well connected helping him out.”

  “Maybe he came down here to be with family,” she suggested.