Invaded (23 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

Head low, Cara slunk down the hall to her post, bracing for the worst. From the earsplitting
wail that greeted her when she opened the seclusion room door, she expected to find
a dozen toddlers
inside. But a single child was the source of the clamor. Not quite two years old,
by the looks of him, but man, the kid had a pair of banshee lungs.

Cara greeted the teenager in charge of supervising the child. “I can sit with him
awhile if you’d like to take a br—”

“Oh, thank the Mother!” The girl tapped her throat twice in a sign of gratitude, then
bolted from the room before Cara had a chance to ask the child’s name.

She observed the boy, taking in the wispy brown locks plastered to his cheeks by tears,
tiny hands clenched into fists, his quivering chin slick with drool. During the brief
moments he stopped
crying, his breath hitched so badly he could barely catch it. Cara didn’t know much
about kids, but this didn’t look like a temper tantrum. The boy seemed genuinely miserable.

She sat beside the toddler and pulled him into her lap, then pressed a hand to his
forehead to check for fever. “You don’t feel warm,” she said. “What’s wrong,
bud?”

He rested his head against her chest and cried out again, seeking comfort by clinging
tightly to her tunic. Cara rocked from side to side while patting the boy’s back.
Over the next ten
minutes, she hummed and bounced and cooed, using every soothing technique she knew,
but nothing worked.

He was hurting—she sensed it.

After ensuring nobody was watching from the window, she took his face in her hands
and peered into his eyes, opening her mind to him.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked aloud in L’eihr.

Hurt
, he mentally repeated, which didn’t help much. Using Silent Speech with toddlers
was a challenge because they couldn’t form coherent thoughts. Instead of dialogue,
they
shared snippets of desire or emotion in a jumble that often didn’t make sense. This
time was no exception.

Cara wanted to help the boy, but she didn’t know how. She rested her fingertips against
his belly and locked gazes with him in desperation.
Hurt?
She moved her hand to his head.
Hurt?
After repeating the query at his ears and throat, she touched his legs.
Hurt here? Where is the hurt?

He understood—she felt it within his consciousness. He opened his mouth and pointed
inside, then told her,
Hurt here
, and projected a sensation she recognized at once. She’d
known that pain at sixteen, when her wisdom teeth had pushed a jagged trail to the
surface of her gums. This baby was cutting teeth—probably his two-year molars.

Anger flared through her, flushing her cheeks and making her hot all over. Teething
was a common issue among young children, so why hadn’t the nursery workers checked
for this? How long
would they have let the boy cry before realizing he was in pain?

And they had the audacity to call
her
slow.

First, she was going to treat his sore gums with an analgesic swab. Then she was going
to tear someone a new L’asshole. Holding tightly to the boy, she pushed to standing
and stalked
across the room. But when Cara threw aside the door and stepped into the hall, she
came to a sudden halt.

Wait a minute.

Had she used Silent Speech with this boy? With words and everything?

Cara’s lips parted and spread into a smile. She’d really done it!

Her anger evaporated, morphing into triumph. After tireless hours of practice, she’d
finally discovered the part of her brain required to share complete thoughts. Now
that she’d
isolated it, the region felt like a muscle she’d never known existed. She flexed it
while gazing into the boy’s eyes.
We’ll fix the hurt
, she told him.

It was easier now!

Hurt
, was all he said. He didn’t understand anything more.

She carried him to the first-aid station and strapped him into the counter seat, then
fished in the cubby for a plastic swab. She showed it to the boy and opened her mouth
to model what she
wanted him to do.
Open big
.

When he obeyed, she snapped the tip off the medicated end and dabbed thick, syrupy
liquid over the back of his gums, where bits of white bone had begun to poke through
the flesh. She massaged
the medication into the swollen tissue and opened her mind to him.
No hurt?

Bad taste
, he complained, but his pain was gone.
Give drink
.

“Okay.” She spoke aloud in L’eihr after noticing Gram, the nursery director, striding
into the room with an infant on her shoulder. “Let’s get you some
water.”

The boy tugged Cara’s cheek with his sticky palm, initiating eye contact.
No water. Reed-milk.

“Or milk,” she said for the director’s benefit. “Would you rather have that?”

Milk
, he silently repeated.

Use your words
, she told him.
Say it loud.

“MILK!”

Gram laughed from the changing station. “He knows what he wants.”

Cara left him buckled in his seat while she fetched a glass of reed-milk, which was
similar in taste and consistency to soy. In other words, totally nasty. But the little
guy loved it. She
helped him finish his drink and told Gram his caregivers had mistaken teething pain
for a temper tantrum. Gram promised to have a word with his instructor.

Cara guided the boy back to the toddler room and left him with a kiss on the cheek,
which he promptly scrubbed away with his fist. That was gratitude for you. But no
matter. Nothing could bring
her down. Cara’s accomplishment had her beaming like a new quarter. She couldn’t wait
to tell Aelyx tomorrow—he would be so proud.

Since the seclusion room was empty and she doubted the preschool instructor wanted
any more of her help, Cara decided to sneak off to the intermediate course to blow
off some steam. Besides, she
was on a roll today. She’d managed to get Elle to open up about her grief, then she’d
unlocked the next level of Silent Speech. If good things came in threes, she’d conquer
those
wily spinners before dinner.

Vero greeted her in the lobby and followed along to the obstacle course, chattering
animatedly in his language of chirps and howls. Occasionally, he’d freeze, ears cocked
on high alert,
and dart into the trees to hunt another prize, but the daytime serpents were too quick
for him. Cara strolled at an easy pace, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the citrusy
scent of
ilar
leaves on the breeze. The only sounds were rhythmic percussions of insect calls and
birdsongs, both foreign and familiar to her ears. While mating calls varied from one
planet to another, love was
universal, and it was in the air today.

“It’s beautiful here,” she said to Vero, even though he didn’t understand. “I miss
the green leaves, but the bushes and trees back home are dormant now,
anyway.”

She wished she had more time to enjoy the outdoors. She wanted to wander deep into
the woods, where thick trees blocked the sun, and see what fuzzy wonders grew in the
shadows. She wanted to
shuttle over the great city wall and catch a glimpse of the beasts there, to discover
whether the barrier protected the animals or if the reverse were true. It seemed criminal
to overload her
schedule to the point where she couldn’t explore this lush place.

The intermediate course was still and silent when she reached it. Even the spinners
lay motionless, which gave her a chance to inspect them more closely. Each rotator
was constructed like a
record player, a round disk raised slightly above its foundation held in place by
a central bolt, which turned with the apparatus instead of remaining fixed.

She crouched down and grazed the pebbled surface with her palm. Good traction, a clue
that she wasn’t meant to skid from one to the other. She pushed against the outside
edge, feeling it
give an inch beneath her weight. Common sense told her she could use the bounce to
her advantage, but she didn’t know how.

She jogged to the solar panel that powered the course’s moving elements and turned
it on. In response, a soft hum arose, breaking the tranquility. Time to get down to
business. She set off
at a slow run and approached the first spinner, determined to crush the obstacle.

Fifteen minutes later, the only thing she’d effectively crushed was her own butt.

She rubbed her aching bottom and muttered a few swear words while the rotating disks
mocked her in a steady
whir
that resembled demonic laughter. Why couldn’t she figure this
out?

“As if I need another reason to feel like a loser here.” Glaring at the nearest spinner,
she drew back and gave the base a hearty kick. It felt so good that she stomped the
disk with
her boot heel, not caring that the act would probably land her on her backside.

But that’s not what happened.

The impact caused the disk to stall ever so briefly…just long enough to gain purchase
and leap to the next spinner, had she been standing on it.

That was it—the secret to navigating the spinners was to land as hard as possible
on each disk. Cara laughed aloud, startling Vero, who’d begun to doze in a patch of
sunlight.

“Eureka!” she shouted, rubbing her palms together. “Now watch me own this course.”

It took a few tries to perfect her technique, but by the fourth attempt, she had it
down to a science. When she leaped from the final spinner across the finish line,
she pumped her fists into
the air and shouted a victory cry sweeter than any chocolate bar. She couldn’t believe
the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. If besting the intermediate course
felt this good,
she’d probably need to change her pants after mastering the proficient track.

Satan was going to be so impressed. She couldn’t wait to show him.

“Sw
eeeee
ney!” Speak of the devil, she turned to find him waving to her from the courtyard.
It was hard to tell from this distance, but he seemed upset. His already broad
shoulders were hunched halfway up to his neck as he ran to meet her, a trio of lines
creasing his typically smooth forehead.

Had she done something wrong? Maybe once the equipment had powered down for the day,
students weren’t supposed to turn it back on. L’eihrs were pretty stingy with energy.

“Sorry,” she said as he approached. “I was practicing. But wait till you see—”

“Why you ignore summons?” he asked, his eyes wild. She’d never seen him so upset.
“Look much bad when you refuse answer.”

“What summons?” Cara checked her tunic pocket to make sure she hadn’t lost her com-sphere.
It was right there, but she hadn’t received a message. “Did you call
me?”

“No.” He backed toward the Aegis, motioning for her to follow. “Headmaster and guard.
Come now.”

A sick, sinking feeling settled in the pit of Cara’s stomach. If the headmaster and
house guard had both summoned her, that meant bad news. Her mind flashed to Troy.
She hadn’t heard
from him since he’d left for Earth. What if his ship had crashed into a rogue meteor?
That had happened once, years ago, when a transport’s thrusters had failed. Cold sweat
collected
along the back of Cara’s neck as she sprinted past her fitness instructor, across
the courtyard, and up the front steps of the main dormitory.

She halted at the doors only long enough to extend her wrist for the security scanner.
The doors parted and she bolted into the lobby, stopping short in time to avoid a
collision with Odom and
Skall, the seniors who’d fought with her brother.

They moved aside to let her pass, revealing a small crowd that had gathered in the
lobby. The house guard shouted for everyone to return to their classes. When the man’s
gaze landed on
Cara, his eyes narrowed, mouth tight in a way that warned she was in trouble. An unexpected
rush of relief washed over her. As long as Troy was safe, nothing else mattered.

At least that’s what she thought until she saw the blood.

A slick smear of burgundy stood in stark contrast against the tile floor, winding
a macabre trail that led from the far hallway to the lobby.

What had happened in here?

“Try it,” Skall said in L’eihr as he brushed past her. “I’ll be ready for you.”

Try what? Before she could bring the question to her lips, he strode away with his
friends. The clones stole glances at her over their shoulders. Fear darkened their
gazes, despite the fact that
each of the boys outweighed her by fifty pounds of solid muscle. They were scared
of her, though she couldn’t imagine why.

“Sw
eeeee
ney.” Satan had caught up with her. “Please to say you not do this.”

Cara recalled the stolen tablet beneath her pillow and the false accusation in the
dining hall. She had a feeling Dahla had framed her for something a lot more serious
than tampering with her
food this time.

“Do what?” she asked, glancing at the blood. “I don’t know what happened here.”

Instead of telling her, the guard demanded to know her whereabouts as of thirty minutes
ago. Cara told him the truth—that she’d spent most of the day in the nursery before
practicing
on the outdoor track. Then he asked if she’d seen Dahla today.

“I see her every day,” Cara said. “In the washroom and in our classes.”

Satan interrupted the interrogation and took her gently by the shoulders. “You have
much fights with this girl, yes?”

“Is that what she told you?” Cara swallowed a lump. She reminded herself that L’eihrs
couldn’t lie through Silent Speech, so there was no way Dahla could hurt herself and
blame Cara for it. “Because I think she’s been trying to get me in trouble. Whatever
she said—”

“She tell us nothing,” Satan said. “Girl is barely alive, getting new blood from clinic.”

Cara stopped breathing.

“There you are.” Aisly strode in the front door with Jaxen and the headmaster at her
heels. “We’ve been searching for you. Why didn’t you answer your
sphere?”