Now You See Me-Gifted 5 (13 page)

When she left the house-of-the-bad-guys, it was almost one in the morning. She’d taken a few more photos with her phone, and then the group inside disbanded. Only Clare remained in the house. She must live there, Tracey thought.

She made her way back to her own home, and there she encountered a problem she hadn’t counted on. The house was dark, everyone was in bed, so she assumed she could walk right in. What she hadn’t considered was the fact that her security-conscious parents would have locked the doors from the inside. And then it started to rain.

Invisibility did not protect her from natural forces, and Tracey felt cold and wet. She found shelter in the back yard, in the septuplets’ playhouse. It was a bigger-than-average playhouse, but it hadn’t been set up for sleeping, and Tracey had to attempt sleeping on a hard wood floor. This was not a restful experience.

Now, stiff and sleepy, she sat on the steps in front of Ken’s house and tried not to doze off. The rain had stopped, there was actually some sunshine, and she figured Ken wouldn’t stay inside all day. She just hoped he wasn’t the type who slept till noon on weekends.

He wasn’t. Just half an hour later, the front door opened and Ken emerged. Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone. A man she assumed was his father walked alongside him and they headed towards the car on the drive.

‘Ken!’ she called. Ken stopped, turned and looked around.

‘It’s me, Tracey. I’m still invisible. I’m on your steps.’

‘Ken?’ his father asked. ‘Are you coming?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Ken mouthed some words. Tracey couldn’t figure out exactly what he was telling her, but she knew from his fierce expression that it had to be something like ‘shut up’ or ‘beat it’.

‘Ken, it’s important! I’ve found out something about the conspiracy. And I know who the real spy is. Ken,
please
, talk to me!’

He and his father had reached the car and Mr Preston was opening the door on the driver’s side. But Ken didn’t move.

‘Ken, let’s go!’ his father said.

‘Um . . . you go, Dad. I’ve changed my mind.’

His father looked confused. ‘I thought you wanted me to drop you off at Mike’s.’

‘I’m going to take my bike. It’s OK, you go on.’

His father still looked puzzled, but he shrugged, got into the car and took off. Ken waited until he was out of sight before he joined Tracey on the steps.

‘I’m not sitting on you, am I?’

‘Believe me, you’d know if you sat on me,’ Tracey said. ‘I still have feelings.’

‘OK, so what’s so important?’

‘Look at this.’ Tracey put her mobile phone down on the ground, where it magically appeared for Ken. ‘Click on photos and tell me what you see.’

‘Not a thing,’ Ken replied. ‘Your battery’s dead.’

Tracey groaned. Of course, she hadn’t been able to recharge it the night before. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a photo of Carter with Clare, Serena, that Stuart Kelley guy . . . and Mr Jackson.
Our
Mr Jackson. And Carter’s talking to them.’

She’d made an impression – she could see it on his face. She told him the whole story – how she’d followed Carter to the house and watched the proceedings through a window.

‘He’s the spy, Ken, not Amanda. That whole zombie business, it’s a big act he’s putting on. He sits in our class and pretends he can’t communicate, then he goes and reports on us to these people. That’s how Jackson knows about us.
He
put the knife in Jenna’s locker because he was afraid she was reading his mind and he had to get her out of the picture.’

‘How do you know that?’ Ken asked.

She remembered her promise to Amanda. ‘Well . . . it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ She hurried on. ‘Other things make sense too, Ken. Like when we were kidnapped, Carter was taken first, remember? They got information out of him about the rest of us. Then, after they took me and Emily and the others, they sent him back because they didn’t need him.’

Ken didn’t say anything.

‘Don’t you believe me?’ Tracey asked him.

‘Are you sure about Jackson? You said yourself, you were looking through a window. Maybe it was someone who just looks like Mr Jackson. I mean, I’m not crazy about the guy, but he’s the principal of a middle school, for crying out loud!’

‘He’s definitely involved with this conspiracy,’ Tracey insisted. ‘I’m not the only one who’s seen him with those other creeps. Amanda said –’ She caught herself just in time and stopped.

Ken rolled his eyes. ‘I should have known Amanda had something to do with all this. Did you two cook up this story together?’

‘Ken! Amanda is not the spy, I swear to you!’

‘How can you be so sure about that?’ he countered.

Frustrated, Tracey wanted to scream.
This
was exactly why a person shouldn’t promise to keep secrets.

‘You see?’ Ken said triumphantly. ‘You’re not really sure, are you? You don’t want to admit that Amanda can be this evil.’

‘And you don’t want to admit that you have a thing for her,’ Tracey shot back. ‘You’re still upset that she didn’t tell you about Serena in the seance. You’re letting your personal feelings get in the way of logic, Ken!’

‘That’s bull,’ Ken muttered.

‘Oh, come on, Ken, get real! You like Amanda, you’ve always been into her. You’re just trying to get back at her for not acting like she’s into you! Which, by the way, I think she is.’

Ken looked away, as if he didn’t want to confront something he knew was true.

‘Talk to her,’ Tracey pleaded. ‘Tell her . . .’ She tried to think of a way to clue him in without breaking her promise. ‘Tell her to tell you what she told me.’

‘Forget it,’ Ken said. ‘I’m not talking to her.’ He stood up. ‘I have to go.’

Helpless, Tracey watched him walk away. Now what? She was on her own.

Yawning, she decided to go home and get some sleep. There, she could plug in her phone, recharge it, and be all set to go back to Clare’s house.

She didn’t know the conspirators’ schedule – if they met daily or if Carter met with them every night at midnight. But if Clare’s house was their headquarters, there had to be items lying around which could provide evidence. So even if there was no gathering of bad guys, she’d accomplish something.

On her own. Totally on her own, by herself. And she was scared. OK, she was invisible. Nobody could really hurt her if she couldn’t be seen, right? But even so, she was afraid.

She tried to shake off the fear and concentrate on her immediate task. First, she had to get into Clare’s house. If there was no meeting and people weren’t going in and out, how could she carry out any investigation? For that reason, she decided to go to Clare’s earlier, in the afternoon, when hopefully the woman might leave or come home and open a door for her.

Reasonably refreshed, with her fear on a back burner and with a fully charged mobile phone, she left her room. She felt pretty focused, but even so, she couldn’t help picking up on the family conversation going on in the living room.

For once, the Devon Seven were quiet. Her parents were talking to them.

‘Girls, we know you miss Tracey,’ her father was saying. ‘Your mother and I miss her too. But even if we can’t see her, we know that she’s here.’

Her mother spoke up. ‘George, you’re confusing them. They can’t understand Tracey’s gift.’

Tracey had to smile. Her mother was right – how could the five-year-olds understand her gift, when she couldn’t understand it herself? Impulsively, out of the septuplets’ eye range, she picked up her mother’s handbag. The sudden disappearance of her bag caught the woman’s attention. Tracey then placed it back down. Her mother smiled.

‘But you don’t have to worry, girls,’ she said. ‘Tracey’s all right.’

Was she? Tracey wondered. Was she really all right? She’d never been invisible for this long before, and although she hadn’t tried to reappear today, she had the feeling it wouldn’t work if she did. And here she was, all alone, ready to embark on what could possibly be a very dangerous mission. She didn’t know
what
she was.

All she knew for sure was that she’d made a promise to Jenna, to get her out of that awful place. She needed to be able to prove Jenna’s innocence, and from what Amanda had told her the evidence could only come from Mr Jackson.

It took her a while to find Clare’s house. And when she thought she’d found it she was actually at the house next door. She realized this when a car pulled into the other house’s drive and Clare got out.

Tracey tore across the lawn, determined not to get shut out this time. Clare was talking on her mobile phone, and when Tracey caught up to her she was able to hear her side of the conversation.

‘I’m telling you, she’s been released! No, I don’t know why, but we have to talk about this, today. And bring the kid.’

There was a pause.

‘Good grief, you’re the principal, you can come up with an excuse. Tell the parents it’s a special school activity or something. Or you’re taking him to see a specialist. Come up with something – just get over here.’

The kid – she had to be talking about Carter, Tracey thought. And the ‘she’ who was released – was that Jenna? Had she left Harmony House? Clare shut off her phone as she went into the house and Tracey slipped in alongside her.

Clare went through the living room, but Tracey paused and gazed around. It looked like such an ordinary living room – there was a modern sofa, a couple of chairs, a coffee table, but the only piece of furniture that grabbed her eye was a desk.

She went on through the dining room and spotted Clare in the kitchen. She was making coffee and Tracey hoped she wasn’t going to bring it into the living room. Clare might not be able to see her, but if Tracey wanted to open drawers, or move things about, she needed to do it when Clare wasn’t around.

She eased open the desk’s file drawer slowly, trying not to make any noise. A row of folders greeted her and she knelt down to read the tabs on them. Bills . . . receipts . . . banking . . . They were the same labels she’d see if she opened her parents’ desk at home. Except for one.

She was amazed to see that Clare hadn’t even tried to disguise the subject of the folder. It was right there, printed in black ink on a white tab: Gifted.

She went to take another quick look at the kitchen. Clare was sitting at a little kitchen table with her cup of coffee and she’d opened a newspaper. It looked like she’d be occupied for a while.

She pulled the folder out and set it on the desk. Taking a deep breath, she opened it.

The first page could have been some sort of application form. It bore the heading: Amanda Beeson. A small head-and-shoulders photo of her classmate was attached. It looked like it could have been a recent school photo.

Data about Amanda included her address, phone number, parents’ names and occupations. Date and place of birth. Then there was physical information.

Height: 5’2”.

Weight: 110 lb.

Hair: Light brown.

Eyes: Blue.

So far, this could have come directly from some file at Meadowbrook Middle School.

But the next piece of information was something Tracey never expected to see neatly typed in black and white on an official-looking document.

Gift: Ability to transfer consciousness into another body.

Characteristics: Subject must experience a sensation of pity for the person in the body prior to transfer. Subject is without personal consciousness, but remains physically unchanged, with all natural abilities intact. Subject appears to be operating through a remote memory of typical behaviour patterns. All consciousness of the subject is in the new body. Consciousness of person who normally inhabits body appears to be in a sleeping state.

Limitations: Subject exhibits some control in taking over a body, but has not yet achieved the ability to release body at will.

Project potential: Could replace heads of state and others in a position of decision-making in order to establish an environment suitable for project.

Tracey turned the page. The next document was devoted to Martin. There was all the basic information, but Tracey ignored that.

Gift: Ability to develop super strength.

Limitations: Subject must feel ridiculed for strength to emerge.

Project potential: Battle.

She read Jenna’s page next.

Gift: Ability to read thoughts of other human beings.

Characteristics: Subject must want to read the thoughts and must be able to concentrate. Object of mind-reading will not be aware of the process.

Limitations: Subject appears to be able to employ gift at will. Object who is aware of subject’s gift may be able to mentally block the process.

Project potential: Ability to determine loyalties and emotional states. Revelation of confidential information. Verification of intent.

Verification of intent
. . . Tracey assumed that was just a fancy way of saying Jenna would know if someone was telling the truth.

The document devoted to Sarah was particularly intriguing. Under limitations, it stated: Subject has personal reasons for not wishing to exercise her gift. Must ascertain the nature of the reasons and resolve her reluctance so that gift may be exploited. And under Project potential, there was only one word: Unlimited.

There was a knock on the door. Hastily, she closed the folder and shoved it back in the file. She barely got the drawer closed before Clare entered the room and went to the door.

Serena-the-student-teacher-alias-Cassandra-the-medium was at the door, along with the man Tracey knew as Stuart Kelley.

‘What’s so important that we had to come rushing over here?’ Serena demanded to know.

‘It’s the Kelley girl. She left Harmony House this morning.’

Stuart’s eyebrows shot up. ‘She escaped?’

‘No, she was released early.’

‘Why?’ the man asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Clare replied. ‘The investigator just knew she’d left. I’m hoping the kid knows something.’

‘How could he know anything already?’ Serena asked. ‘It’s Saturday – there’s no school.’

Clare ignored her. ‘Here they come now.’