Hunting Lila (16 page)

I sank down onto the top step and tried to get a grip. I wished that I had the power to make the ground open up right there in front of me so I could hurl myself head first into the chasm. This was it, then. There was no point in staying. Even if I hadn’t met Key there would be no point in staying. I needed to get back to the house, find whatever information I could, then leave. Tonight. There was no other choice.

I got up from the step and looked around the parking lot. There was a chain-link fence to the left, running the length of the building, and a slim alleyway leading onto the street out the front. I squeezed down it and rounded the corner.

‘Lila!’

I froze at the sound of Jack’s voice. He stepped out of a mass of men knotted by the door area and came towards me.

‘Lila, there you are. Are you OK?’ He looked away, embarrassed, as he asked.

‘Yeah, fine,’ I mumbled.

‘We’ve got to go.’ He gestured towards the men behind him. They were loading up into two black SUVs with tinted windows. ‘The alarm’s gone off again at the base. We have to respond, though I’ll put money on it being another false alarm. I’m really sorry to be ditching out on you.’

A car horn blared next to us and I jumped. The door of the nearest SUV stood open, dark shapes inside gesturing at Jack, the other car already heading away from the kerb, pulling into the traffic on the highway.

‘Alex is staying, so are half the guys. Stick around and enjoy yourself.’ He got out his wallet. ‘Here, take this.’ Jack shoved fifty dollars in my direction. ‘Buy a round for everyone. Sara and Alex will see you get home. I’ll be back in the morning.’

Then he ducked quickly into the car, the door slammed and the car manoeuvred fluidly into the traffic.

I had fifty dollars in my hand, Jack was tied up at the base, and I couldn’t go back into the bar to face Alex and Rachel. I thought about it for a split second, then stuck my arm out and hailed a cab.

I ran up the porch steps. The security light blinked on as I unlocked and opened the door. I crossed to the alarm and deactivated it, glancing up at the sky outside, wondering if Key was up there – was that how it worked? If he was, could he come inside now without triggering it? I kicked off my shoes. I needed to focus. It would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for me and I needed to be out of here long before then.

I stood at the bottom of the stairs, frozen. I would never see Alex again. The consequences of leaving suddenly seemed more impossible to bear than the consequences of staying. I shut my eyes and felt the walls closing in on me.

My eyes snapped open. I’d find whatever information I could and then I’d decide if I was staying or going. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, though a sheaf of papers explaining why there were government-sanctioned units dedicated to eradicating us like a nasty flu virus would be handy. Or information on what they did with such people when they caught them.

‘With
us,’
I said out loud, ‘when they catch
us.’

I ran into the living room. Jack’s laptop was on the table and I switched it on. It asked for a password. I hesitated a few seconds then tried ‘Sara’ but it beeped angrily at me and demanded I try again. I tapped in the code for the alarm. Another angry beep and a warning that I only had one more try before permanent lockout. I swore loudly. Then my eye caught the photo of my mum on the bookcase. I looked back at the keyboard and typed in my mum’s name: Melissa.

I stared at the screen in shock for a moment then quickly scrolled across the desktop to Jack’s most recent documents and clicked on the first one.

It was titled Demos.

It took me a moment to figure out the connection. Then I remembered Key’s words and my heart stalled. Demos was the man Key said had taken his son. Apparently the same man the Unit had tracked to Mexico.

I clicked the file open, my hands shaking. A face expanded across the screen. The image was grainy and unfocused and it was hard to make out the details clearly. What I could see was a man with a widow’s peak of black hair, a square jaw, flat blue eyes and dark stubble. My eyes flicked down to the paragraphs of text beneath the picture.

What the hell was a psychokenosist? I had no idea, but surely anything that required the word ‘psycho’ at the front could not be good. I read on –

I felt dizzy. The words jumped around in front of my eyes. I scrolled back up so I could see the photograph again. My mother’s killer. I was staring right at him. The man who had broken into my house and stabbed her to death. The same man who had Key’s son. The same man who may or may not have been coming after me to use me as a pawn in his game of girlfriend barter. Alex had lied to me. The people the Unit were hunting were the same people who had killed my mother. And the people who had killed her were like me.

I closed my eyes whilst the room spun and kept them closed whilst I hit the scroll down button. I didn’t want to open them and see Demos’s face again. I read down.

He had already been convicted? And sentenced to death? I fell back into the chair. My eyes tracked to the text below:

Psygens? Was I one of those? Underneath were the profiles of eight or so people. Small boxes of text with photographs sitting next to them. I scanned down the list, burning the names and faces into my memory.

The picture was of a striking black woman, her eyes flashing at the camera in defiance. The background was bright, white light. There was a cut across her eyebrow and her lip looked swollen but she was still managing to tilt her chin at the camera and smile.

This was the woman that Demos wanted back. That they’d thought he might want me to exchange for. I studied her picture. ‘Contained’ was stamped underneath it. Contained. I said it out loud. It sounded like the word exterminators used when they were done catching vermin.

I moved down the list.

The picture underneath was taken with a zoom lens but was better quality than the one of Demos. It was a side profile shot of a regular-looking guy walking down the street, late twenties, longish hair, slight roguish quality due to the way his lip curled, like he knew he was something special. A sifter? What was that? Why couldn’t they use plain English for goodness sake – it wasn’t like I could take down the dictionary and find the definitions.

The list went on for another paragraph. I got the picture loud and clear, though, so I skipped down, wondering if he was one of the people who’d come after my mum. He had to be. Another surge of anger overtook me.

He was like me, then. Another person who could make things move with his mind. I should have been excited at the knowledge, but I was horrified. The man looked like a fighting dog, his neck as broad as his head, which was shaved and battered like a boiled egg that had been dropped on the floor. I scanned through his list of crimes, It was as long as Ryder’s. Murder thrown in amongst the lesser crimes like an afterthought.

Underneath his entry was one for a woman: Amber Stark. She had flaming red hair, lips the colour of crushed beetles and skin so pale it was translucent. The picture was a headshot. She looked to be in her late twenties but it was hard to tell. I peered closer. Glancing down I saw that this girl’s ability was listed as Reader. Clearly nothing to do with books.

Beneath Amber was a man called Thomas Taylor. They were calling him a Projector. Thomas had been contained too. Key’s statement that when people got caught they didn’t come back was looking fairly accurate.

Beneath Thomas was Harvey James. The photo showed a man in his early thirties. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was wearing Ray-Bans. He could have passed for one of the Unit. He was telekinetic. The record said he had done time for bank robbery, aggravated assault, breaking and entering and that he was suspected of murder. Who wasn’t? I thought. Stamped at the bottom of the page were the words:
Escaped San Quentin Prison.

The last photo was of a girl: Japanese, beautiful, and grinning like a Cheshire cat posing for Mario Testino. I looked at the name under the photo feeling like my world was crumbling around me; it was already half in ruins, but this was the final tremor to bring everything tumbling down.

She was a mind-reader, then.

A hand suddenly slapped over my mouth and my feet were lifted off the floor. My nose was half covered by rough fingers. I gasped in a lungful of air, my brain one step ahead of my thoughts and gearing up for a scream before I had even processed what was happening. But no air could get through and all I could do was choke.

A man’s voice whispered in my ear, ‘Shut up, be quiet!’

I struggled to obey, panic causing tears to spring up in my eyes. I tried to scan the room to find an object that I could smash into him but I couldn’t calm myself enough to focus on my surroundings. What an idiot, I thought. One of the only people on the planet with a special ability to see off attackers and I can’t even make it work.

‘Shhhh, it’s me, it’s me. Is Jack here?’ The tone was frantic.

The hand loosened its grip and I sucked in some air, gulping it down. I twisted my head, my eyes lighting on the phone. The words he’d spoken sank in about the same time I saw his face and in the second I took to compute that it was Key who was holding me, the phone came flying through the air towards his head. It fell to the floor with a crash, hitting his foot and making him swear.

I fought my way out of his arms and faced him. ‘What the hell are you doing in my house?’

‘Is Jack here? Is he back?’ Key was jigging up and down, wired and wide-eyed.

‘No.’ I shook myself and wiped my face, trying to remove the taste of his hand. ‘What the hell are you doing? I told you I’d help you, you don’t need to break into my house and—’

He lunged towards me. ‘You’ve got to get out now.’

‘What?’

‘You have to leave, right now.’ He started pulling me out of the living room, tugging me by the top of my arm. I let myself be pulled.

‘What? Why?’ I knew the answer before he said it, dread already tunnelling through me.

‘They’re coming. They’re on their way. They used one of them to set the alarm off on the base. It’s a decoy. I can’t believe your brother fell for it. And why the hell did you leave the bar? Alone! Are you insane?’

We were in the kitchen; Key was fumbling with the lock on the back door.

‘But . . . how? They were in Mexico. Jack said.’ Key had to be wrong.

‘Well, they’re not now. They’re back here. As soon as I left you, I saw one of Demos’s people outside the bar. Bold as brass. Like he didn’t care if the Unit spotted him.’

‘What was he doing there?’ I asked hesitatingly.

‘There was only one thing in that bar of any interest to Demos.’ He gave me a look that made my blood run cold. ‘Then you came swanning out on your own and jumped in a cab. And that’s all it took. Demos’s man jumped in a car and I followed you straight here to warn you. Sure as my mama goes to church twice on a Sunday they’re coming here.’

I stared at him.

‘Damn! How do you get this door open?’ He was yanking it so hard, the frame was in danger of cracking.

I knelt down and slid the bolt at the bottom and the door opened.