Search (SEEK Book 1) (16 page)

Thankfully, the next many days go by in a blur of weapons, tactical maneuvers, and survival training lessons. It’s not easy to teach someone who’s never so much as climbed a ladder or held a squirt gun, but it hasn’t been impossible. Rose has a particular knack for duck and cover.

“Incoming!” I shout, letting a water balloon fly from my slingshot.

Rose dives behind a tall green trash bin, curls up against it and covers her head. The balloon splashes where she’d been. 

“Scatter!” I holler, grabbing the paintball gun out of my holster and charging into the simulated urban terrain.

The yard is now an obstacle course for Rose’s training and I’ve become her fulltime assailant. It’s my job to make sure Rose can survive a hand-to-hand or weapons attack. I know there are no guarantees. But I’ll give her the best chance possible.

I promised Paul I’d teach her everything I know.

The best part about crouching behind bales of straw, holding a paintball gun like a rifle, and rolling for cover is that I don’t have time to think. I get up in the morning, shower when it’s my turn, eat breakfast when it’s served and then I’m out here.

Dang it! I’m slow pulling in my legs. A bright blue paintball pings me painfully in the ankle. It’s up to Rose to remember which leg she hit. I can’t run now, though. I have to scramble around, raising my gun in all directions. A sitting duck waiting for her next attack.

I listen.

The nice thing about England is the rain and humidity. Wet ground is familiar to me. The telltale squish on my left is a welcome warning. I launch. I jab to her arm to take out her weapon, and then sweep her legs. She goes down with a thud. I grab her throat and pin her to the ground, knee on her chest.

Only it’s not Rose.

I blink down at a purple-faced Jonathan squirming beneath me. Cheers of whooping laughter erupt from the backdoor. Jonathan swipes at my arm. Our eyes meet. Both of us stunned to see the other.

I pull my hand away. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry. I thought you were Rose!” I explain, whipping my head to the crowd. Rose stands busting at the seams with everyone else.

That’s a first.

“Keira,” Jonathan whispers hoarsely, hunched over on his side and rubbing his neck.  

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you? Ice, you need ice.” I grab his arm—still shaky from adrenaline—and help him toward the house.

“Okay, show’s over. Don’t you all have chores or something?” Rose says sternly, trying to keep a straight face.

Twenty grumbling bodies sulk back into the house. I hear one of them say, “It’s not fair Rose get’s to have all the fun while we’re stuck in here.” That gives me an idea, but it’ll have to wait.

The yard empties just in time. Jonathan trips, coughs, and latches round my neck.

“What were you doing out there? You know I’m training Rose.”

“Paul.” Jonathan visibly swallows and tries again. “Paul.”

“Don’t talk yet.” I get him inside and sit him at the table.

Rose’s head pops around the door from the hallway. “Is he okay? Can I do anything?”

“Frozen peas!” I gesture to the freezer.

Rose scrambles and plops the cold bag in my hand. I don’t even get the peas to Jonathan’s throat before he jerks around snatching it out of my hand.

I hold my breath, waiting for the anger that’s sure to follow. If it were me, I know I’d be pissed.

“I’ll live. Jesus, you let her do this to you on a daily basis?” Jonathan grunts, slumping forward and clutching the peas to his throat.

Rose and I share a smile. We have an understanding that we not go easy on each other. I don’t want to get soft sitting around here for weeks and Rose wants to toughen up. When I took Jonathan down it was the real deal.

“Nah, I try not to let her catch me.” Rose snickers, trying to lighten his mood.

I let out a breath. At least she didn’t tell him she’s had three times that today alone. I secretly wink at Rose with a knowing grin. “We’re fine here I think. Thanks. I’ll call if we need anything.”

Rose struts off.  I’m pretty sure to go gossip about Jonathan’s unfortunate takedown. I don’t blame her. Those kids are brutal toward her. But right now, she’s a star.

Poor Jonathan, though. That bunch will probably come up with a name like “I’ll drop you like a Jonathan” or something.

“You’re never going to live this down,” I warn him, wiping yellow paint off my knuckles with a soapy paper towel.

“I know.”

Seconds tick by on the ugly pink cat clock hanging over the doorway. Jonathan lets out a groan, getting unsteadily to his feet. He pats the sides of his neck.

“Better?” I cringe, watching the bruises bloom in the shape of five fingers.

Jonathan swallows with difficulty. “Yeah.”

I close the gap between us, reaching for his neck. Jonathan’s hand snaps up, clamping down on my wrist. Emotion flashing in his eyes, he pulls me to him. I lean in, tipping my face up.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten off to. I heard what happened. It’s all anyone is talking about.” Paul ducks into the room, a hallway full of whispering onlookers in tow.

“Great.” Jonathan clears his throat, stepping back.

I smooth my shirt and then my hair, looking for something to distract myself. But it’s no use. The absence of Jonathan is everywhere.

“Have some water.” I grab a cup and hold it under the faucet, hands trembling.

Jonathan. My mind says over and over. Would you have kissed me? Would I have liked it? I wonder.

“Of course you’ll like it. It’s Jonathan,”
the voice from nowhere answers.

I hand Jonathan the glass. He covers my hand and squeezes. Our gaze meets. My heart bangs loudly against my ribs. This time I’ll have to agree with the disembodied voice. I would definitely like being kissed by Jonathan.

Paul shoves back against the crowd. “Get back to work!” he shouts, closing the kitchen door.

Giggles and scurrying feet scatter away, leaving the three of us uncomfortably in the silence.

“Any way we can continue with our meeting, or do you need to go lie down?” Paul asks, sounding annoyed.

“I’m good.” Jonathan nods abruptly.

“Meeting?” I ask.

“Well, we were supposed to be in a meeting. I sent Jonathan to find you because I’ve done it. I’ve found our Candidate and I’m hoping you’ll stick around and help us win.” Paul leans an elbow on the counter, silently pleading with me.

I glance at Jonathan, and the deep purple circles on his neck. “I shouldn’t even be here. It’s probably best for everyone if I leave. The longer—”

“No!” Jonathan leaps to his feet, crossing the space between us in two hurried steps. “This isn’t your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong. My fault. Stay,” he pleads, his voice thick with worry.

“It’s just that—what about Lindy? I need to…” My excuse is wearing thin. Jonathan knows it. We’ve already discussed possible outcomes of my escaping with my family into the Himalayas.

“You need to be here. Where we can give you updates on her progress. Because Lindy’s surgery is scheduled for Monday,” Jonathan says softly.

The words reach me like a shot of pure oxygen. “Monday? She’s having it for real?” I gape at Jonathan.

“It’s true, and we’ll be here to monitor her recovery via BackWatch,” Paul says, nodding at Jonathan.

Jonathan steps toward me. “Stop running, Keira, at least from us. We’re your friends.”

But when I look into his eyes, what I hear is, “
Stop running from me. I want you to stay.”
Jonathan’s unspoken words trickle into my veins, winding their way around my heart. “I don’t know what to do. I like the Fifth Column. I really do, but…” But what I really mean is.
“I like you too, and I’m scared.”

“But you’re still not convinced,” Paul finishes for me.

“I just don’t know if I’m the right person.” I look down at Jonathan’s hands still holding mine and pull away.

“Okay. I have an idea.” Paul grabs a heavy mug, filling it with coffee from the stained pot. “My candidate, Ethan Reynolds, has voted against every Khayal initiative since he’s been in the Senate for twelve years. I had a private meeting with him this morning and I’m positive this is the guy for us. His poll numbers are low, so we’ll have our work cut out for us, but he’s the one we need to win if we’re going to shut down Episteme and Kistall. We won’t give up until all Khayal are safe.”

I listen, nodding along, for the part that has to do with me. But Paul just sips his coffee thoughtfully. I raise a brow to Jonathan. Thinking I’ve missed something.

“Paul,” Jonathan says.

“Hmmm?” Paul grins, his mustache curling up in the corners. “Oh, right. This is where you two come in. Jonathan, from you I need your money and your Episteme expertise. Keira, I desperately need you. You are the only one on our side with the inside scoop on SEEK. Kistall is going to be hard to beat, but I know with your help we could do it.”

“You already know my answer,” Jonathan says proudly. “How much?”

“Fifty million should give Reynolds’ a leg up,” Paul answers, setting his cup on the counter and reaching across the island to shake Jonathan’s hand.

Jonathan looks as though Paul’s asked to borrow a pen.

“Fifty million?” I choke. “As in dollars? Fifty million
dollars
? You’re giving him fifty million dollars?”

Paul and Jonathan turn and look at me like I’m the crazy one.

“Of course. Didn’t you hear?”

“I heard blah, blah, blah, he’s going to save the world. But I don’t believe it. I mean, it’s a nice thought and all, but it’s never going to work. We’re just a bunch of kids and one not-so-popular presidential candidate. I don’t see how any of this will ever matter.” I throw my hands in the air, spinning on a heel. But I don’t make it two steps before Jonathan catches my arm.

“It will matter with your help. Don’t you think I know it’s a long shot? It is a gamble, but I’m willing to take the chance. I don’t care about the money. I’d give it all away if it would free Mayet. I care about
you…
and Paul. And about all of these kids here who are willing to their risk lives to make a difference.”

I think of Lindy and Rose, two very different people pulling at my heart. I haven’t felt this torn since the day I signed up for SEEK. Leaving Lindy almost destroyed me. And back then I was motivated to make a difference. To do the right thing. And Rose, so eager to be part of something bigger than she is, just like I was.

Right now Lindy’s awaiting the surgery that will give her back her legs, the surgery that I fought to get her. But it’s a dangerous surgery. And one that wouldn’t even be necessary if SEEK hadn’t lied to me. I was too gullible and naïve. I shouldn’t have believed them.

I look at Jonathan’s hopeful face and shake my head. I have no answer to give him. “I’m sorry.” I pull my arm away and start for the door again.

“Hey. Hey, don’t go. At least give us more time before you decide it’s a no. Jonathan’s going to run into Shrewsbury for a few days to transfer the money to Reynolds. Why don’t you go with him and give us your final decision when you come back?” Paul says.

A hopeful look passes from Paul to Jonathan, as if each is trying to convince the other that I’ll have a change of heart. I wish I had their optimism.

“Paul?” Rose’s face peeks back through the door.

“Heh?” Paul scowls at his cousin.

“It’s almost six. We’re going to have a mutiny on our hands if I don’t make dinner.” Rose giggles.

It’s a genuinely happy sound, changing the vibe of the room. This is a completely different Rose than the girl who answered the door two weeks ago.

“
You did that. You gave Rose Marie hope. You gave her a reason to fight
,” the voice says.

“Yes. Good. Right. You feed the pack and we’ll take this to control,” Paul says, jerking his head to Jonathan.

“You’re officially my hero,” Rose whispers as I pass.

I hesitate, shooting her a sideways glance before catching up to Jonathan and Paul. I reach the lobby where I’m greeted by deafening cheers. Tuck, with his Mohawk waving like a flag, nods his head approvingly. Even Boston claps and looks impressed despite herself.

“Will you teach us too? Like you’re teaching Rose Marie?” a boy whose name I don’t even know asks from the couch.

“Keira,” Paul calls from the hallway.

“Err. Maybe.” I scuttle away, trying to see anything other than their faces. Faces of children. They shouldn’t even be here, caught up in this bitter war. It’s not their fight. But they stay. And they look happy about it.

Mixed emotions swirl inside of me. I can’t see the right path to take.

“
This is where you belong. Embrace it
,” the voice says as I step into the elevator Jonathan had installed. 

The idea of acting like a tourist while being Jonathan’s backup as he transfers millions to the Reynolds campaign isn’t half bad. I like being out of that house with room to think.

Jonathan’s steady breathing fills the miles, a marking of the silent companionship we’ve fallen into. I watch the farms pass by my window, theorizing how people live without neighbors or a grocery store within walking distance. Occasionally, a sheep with a little black face and big round eyes, looks up from its clover as we pass.

I envy those sheep. They only have one job—follow the crowd.

I made the mistake of following the wrong crowd once before. I can’t do it again. How do I know that the Fifth Column is the right place for me? Then again, what other choice do I have?

“There’s the Severn Valley Railway. And over there, that’s the Whittington Castle, it’s something, huh? Over here’s the Shrewsbury Abbey, very touristy destination. And this is our hotel,” Jonathan announces with a sweep of his hand.

Shrewsbury of Shropshire is made up of old timber-framed, stone and mud-brick buildings all tightly packed together. It’s charming; the perfect setting for one of those old-fashioned, unbelievable fairytales where everything turns out perfect in the end. Each shop and villa, despite centuries of use, still looks invitingly well kempt. And everywhere there are people, shoppers mostly, cheerfully crowding the sidewalks. Lazily they stroll between shops. I’d say it’s the perfect spot for a believable vacation. Our cover story should be exceptionally effective.

“It’s cute,” I admit, as Jonathan pulls up to the valet in front of the Lord Hill Hotel.

Right away it’s obvious that I shouldn’t be here. I couldn’t afford a fancy hotel like this in a million lifetimes. I tug on my jacket collar as a woman with a cat on a bejeweled leash struts by, avoiding any and all eye contact with me.

“It’s like the Twilight Zone in here,” I whisper to Jonathan.

“Just try to look natural. I have to have the right hotel address to give the bank tomorrow.” Jonathan hooks my arm as he pockets the valet slip and confidently marches us into the lobby. You’d think he owned the place.

Maybe he does. I whip my attention to Jonathan. I guess it would be rude to ask.

I try not to fidget while Jonathan checks us in. Chances are he wouldn’t be using a fake name if this were his hotel. Plus, if he owned a hotel in England SEEK would be permanently camped out waiting for us.

I glance over my shoulder. I spot the woman with the cat again. She turns her nose up at me. Jonathan’s right, I need to relax and act natural.

In the elevator as we stop at the fourth floor I ask, “What does that even mean?”

We step out into a gracious corridor. Jonathan leads me to an eight-foot double door marked “Abbey Suite” and swipes his card. “What’s what mean?”

“Act natural? If I’m acting I’m not being natural.” My jaw goes slack as the doors open, exposing a suite fit for the President of the United States.

“It means, don’t act like this is all new to you.” Jonathan laughs, laying a finger under my jaw.

I close my mouth and scowl at him.

“We have reservations at Wroxeter Roman Vineyard. Your things should be in your room through there.” Jonathan points at the French doors across what can only described as a swanky living room.

I take the hint that jeans and a t-shirt are not appropriate dinner attire. Like this hotel, dinner is sure to be equally fussy. I find my duffels on a brass luggage rack in the enormous closet-bathroom combo. I dump the contents of each bag onto the polished floor and dig for the two dresses I was coerced into buying in Lafayette.

I take turns holding each dress in front of the mirror, remembering how I got here. Harnel’s orders to kill Jonathan if he didn’t turn echoing in my head like a bad dream. “Who am I?” I ask the mirror, still clutching the lavender dress.

“It’s not your fault, Keira. You’re not to blame.”

“Who are you?” I glower at my own unnaturally green eyes.

“Did you say something?” Jonathan’s muffled voice hollers from the other room.

“Be out in a minute.” But I don’t move. I ask again, this time a little quieter, a little calmer. “Who are you?”

“I am your reason.”

“My
reason
? What does that even mean?” As if my life isn’t already weird enough, my eyes begin to transform. A shiver rocks my shoulders. At first it looks like green and black liquid swirling separately in the center of my pupils, like a yin and yang, but then it changes. The liquids burn, as if alive and full of power. Two twin flames—one green, one black—blaze in the depths of my corneas. I drop both dresses. Squeezing my eyes shut, I clamp a hand over my mouth. An effort to keep from screaming my head off.

It’s a good minute before I chance a look again. The flames are gone. Maybe they were never there. Maybe neither is the voice. “Maybe I’m just losing it.” I strip off my clothes in one motion; like that will make the crazy go away.

I settle on the slinky purple dress, thankful I remembered to shave my legs, and dig for my hairbrush. My hands won’t stop trembling; doubling the time it takes to twist my hair into a knot. Once I’m dressed—and my hair is just the right amount of messy meets chic—I locate two heels from the same pair and dab on a little lip color. I evaluate my effect in the mirror.

“Not bad. For a tomboy.”

Feeling a little less rattled and a lot more like someone else, I throw open the double doors to the sitting room. Jonathan, waiting patiently in neatly pressed trousers and a sleek gray v-neck, smiles. He’s perfect.

I hesitate—wring my fingers. 

Jonathan leaps out of the wingback chair as though it’s on fire. 

“Is this okay? Should I change?” I rattle all at once, smoothing the dress over my thigh.

“That’s more than—I mean—it’s fine. It’s good. Yeah. You look—wow!” he stutters, rubbing his chin.

It would be great to be aloof right now and just say ‘thanks,’ but instead my cheeks blaze red. “Good. I know we’re supposed to be, you know, like a couple and…”
I want to look pretty
. I trace a toe around the circle pattern on the floor.

“You’re breathtaking. Really, Keira, relax,” Jonathan says, tilting his head and watching me chewing my lip. “You very much look the part of girlfriend on holiday.”

***

“This place is fabulous. It’s a little too extravagant, but for
this
food—I could adapt.” I say, laying my napkin on my plate as the waiter clears it away.

“I’m glad you liked it. The Haggis was excellent too.”

I scrunch my face and stick out my tongue at the thought of eating sheep’s stomach.

Jonathan shrugs me off with a laugh. “You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s delicious.”

“You couldn’t pay me enough to eat that garbage, Mr. Steed.” I fold my arms and toss my nose in the air. My best impression of the cat lady from the hotel.

The dining room is packed—the low hum of voices drowning out individual words—but still I kick myself for using Jonathan’s real name. I glance around to see if anyone’s watching us. Our waiter, standing by the swinging door to the kitchen, is talking to a tall blonde man in a royal blue baseball hat. He glances at our table briefly, but it seems more like it was by accident. Plus he has to be thirty feet away. There’s no way he heard me. No one else seems to even know we exist. They’re too wrapped up in their own conversations or devouring their meals. Still, I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Jonathan peeks side to side and smiles. “No harm. I told you no one cares, you can relax. Take off the agent hat for a while. Maybe you’ll even enjoy yourself at our next destination.”

“We’re going somewhere else?”

“Of course, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take my girlfriend sightseeing on our vacation?” Jonathan drops a pile of bills on the table and offers me a hand up.

It’s always when I least expect it that the voice pops in. “
See, he’s perfect for you,”
it says this time. My jaw goes slack.

“There! That look right there will blow our cover.” Jonathan bursts out laughing.

I drop my gaze. “Sorry. I—”

“You worry too much. Come on,” Jonathan says cheerily, taking me by the hand.

As we leave the restaurant, the evening sky turns bronze with the last of the afternoon fading into dusk. The air in Shrewsbury smells of spring, like wet grass and baby powder. I consider the idea that maybe all of England smells this way. Gardens and newborns. Fresh and new. That’s how I’m beginning to feel. Like if I could stay here. Make a fresh start with new friends. I could be content.

My palms sweat as I shake the notion away.

“Paul’s calling,” Jonathan says, reaching in his jacket. “Hello…how’d it go? Yeah? Okay, I’ll let her know…nope, no problems. All right, man. You too.”

“What?” I ask, knowing I’m the ‘
her’
Jonathan mentioned.

“Lindy’s surgery got moved up to today. She’s in recovery now and it looks like it was a success. She’s resting peacefully with your parents at her side.”

“What!” I stop in the middle of the hectic sidewalk and smack his arm. That’s it. Just like that my purpose is gone. “You knew all day and you didn’t say anything?”

Jonathan rubs his arm. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d…”

“What? You thought I’d run off to America on an impulse? How stupid do you think I am?” I snarl.

“No, that’s not it at all. I knew you wouldn’t be able to relax if you were worrying about your sister. I wanted you to have a good time, that’s all.”

I don’t deserve a good time.

“Oh.” My voice cracks, blood pressure returning to normal. “But what if something had gone wrong? Would you have told me then?” 

“Yes. I would’ve told you, but I wouldn’t have let you fall for SEEK’s trap. They’re trying to draw you out of hiding by keeping their end of the bargain. They figure your family loyalty will bring you in. SEEK will stop at nothing to get you back. You’re the agent who wasn’t supposed to live.” Jonathan pulls me toward the shops, out of the foot traffic path.

“But I should be with my family.” My stomach ties in.

“You’re right where you belong,”
the voice says.

“But you’re missing the big picture here. Lindy has had the surgery that you worked so hard to get her. You did it!” A huge smile beams across Jonathan’s face.

My pulse quickens. He’s right. I got Lindy an operation to undo that awful accident, fix my mistake. That’s all I need. But the last few weeks flash before me; when I attacked my fellow SEEK agents and left Cord dead in the woods. I’m an awful person. “How could SEEK want me back? They know it was my gun that killed Cord. I’m sure Martin’s told them I shot her and Jackson. Did you check on Jackson? How is he?”

“That’s the other news. I looked in to see how your friends were, like you asked, and—” Jonathan trails, wrinkling his upper lip.

I inhale, clamping a hand over my mouth. “Oh God! Great. Double murder.” I throw my hands in the air.

A couple glances nervously over their shoulders, walking faster.

“No, no. Seth Jackson and Jennifer Martin are both fine, and so is Thomas Corduroy,” Jonathan says, grabbing my arm.

“What?” I gasp. Jonathan’s words slowly work their way to my brain. “Wait so—I’m not wanted for murder? I’m just AWOL as far as SEEK’s concerned? Well, that and a few dozen minor infractions, but no murder?” I ask.

Maybe there’s a way I could go home. Maybe I could forget any of this ever happened. I could see my family. I could sleep in my own room. But as I peer into in the smiling eyes of the man before me, I know that’s not possible. Not only because SEEK will never set me free—I know too much—SEEK wants me in their possession, or dead.

And what of Jonathan, Rose, Irkalla, and the millions of other endangered Khayal? Could I really just walk away?

No. This will never be over.

“You can end it,”
the voice says.

“Yeah, you’re just the agent who violently attacked her team and aided and abetted a traitor.” Jonathan slings an arm playfully around my shoulder.

“Cord is alive, you’re sure?” I confirm.

“Alive and working. He’s on special assignment. He’s been advanced from hunter to Ops.”

I can practically hear the chains of guilt breaking free from my heart. I feel twelve tons lighter. “Cord is perfect for Ops. He has that look. It’s a good match. I’m happy for him.” I shake my head, disbelievingly.

“Really? Are you okay with all of this?” Jonathan asks. “I thought you’d be more upset. After how much you’ve punished yourself for what I did.”

“We’ve been over this. It was my fault you shot Cord. You warned me you didn’t know how to handle a gun. And of course I’m okay that he’s alive. I love Cord like a brother.” I peer through the window of Ye Old Stein Haus, a shop packed with every type of beer stein imaginable. “In fact I’m more than okay. I’m happy. Let’s go in. Shop for souvenirs like real tourists.”

Jonathan checks his watch.