Page 40 of Generation One LLR (Lorien Legacies Reborn 1)

Taylor blinked. Analytically, the threat on a child’s life disgusted her, but the dire situation didn’t quite penetrate her dreamy sense of tranquility. She just wanted to chill out and float away.

“I guess . . .” Taylor shrugged. “I guess I should heal her or something, right?”

Einar studied her. “I will let you do that in a moment, but first you need to accept the reality of your situation.”

Taylor put her feet up on the couch. “Sure. I accept it.”

Einar rolled his eyes. “I’ve calmed you too much. Hold on.”

The mellow vibes that had washed over Taylor like a gentle wave receded, like a shark was suddenly in the water. Her adrenaline kicked back in, her heart raced. She shot off the couch, gave Einar a horrified look and raced to Freyja’s side. The fact that she hadn’t done this immediately appalled Taylor—how could she just sit there on the couch?

It wasn’t her. This Einar guy had done something to her.

“She’s just a little girl,” Taylor said as she knelt down next to Freyja.

“Yes. She’s just an ordinary little girl taken from a small fishing village up the coast. Her parents love her. They would like her returned. If you behave, that might be possible,” Einar intoned. The speech sounded practiced.

“You’re—you’re an animal,” Taylor said over her shoulder.

She took Freyja’s head in her hands and healed a gash at the base of her skull. The girl, still unconscious, let out a tiny moan. Taylor looked her over quickly; she was bruised from her tumble down the stairs, but none of her other injuries seemed life threatening.

Taylor stood up and rounded on Einar. He had returned to the kitchen and was pouring himself another cup of coffee.

She stalked towards him. “I don’t know what sick, psycho cult thing this is—”

Einar laughed. “You think I’m one of those Harvester idiots? That’s . . . actually, that’s quite insulting.”

Taylor picked up a broken piece of Einar’s mug. She brandished the shard like a knife.

“I don’t care who you are,” Taylor said. She made an effort to keep her voice steady, even though her knees were shaking. “I’m leaving and I’m taking the kid with me. If you try to stop us, I swear to God, I’ll cut your throat.”

“God, you Americans, always like something out of an action movie,” Einar said. He picked a piece of his broken mug off a plate of pancakes and bacon, flicked it aside and slid the plate towards Taylor. “I made this for you. Eat and we can talk.”

He was so calm; that both frightened and angered Taylor. “You aren’t listening—”

“No. You aren’t listening.”

Taylor felt a sharp pressure on her chin and then her head was being whipped around. He had grabbed her with his telekinesis. He was strong—stronger than she was. With Einar controlling her head, Taylor had no choice but to swing her body around to follow. He forced her gaze upwards, to a corner of the room.

A security camera.

“I am not the one who hurts the girl,” Einar said. “They are watching us. This place is wired. If they lose connection, if you misbehave, if you refuse their requests—they will kill her. Then, they will bring in someone else. Another powerless innocent. One after the next, until you comply. If the fate of strangers fails to compel you, they’ll move on to people you do know.” Einar’s voice cracked. He paused, clearing his throat. “You don’t want that on your conscience, do you, Taylor?”

Einar released his hold over her. Taylor let out a breath and slumped against the counter, her neck aching. She glared at him.

“Who—who are they?”

“The Foundation for a Better World,” Einar said. “They are a private company that recruits people like us—Garde—whose powers can have a positive impact on society.”

“You kidnapped me,” Taylor seethed. “That’s not recruitment.”

“The current political climate forces the Foundation to operate using somewhat unorthodox methods,” Einar said, almost like he was reading from a press release.

Taylor continued to stare at him. He was unflappable, almost robotic. She wanted to run, but sensed that would be considered misbehavior.

Einar watched her back. He picked up a piece of bacon from the plate he’d prepared for her. “Do you mind?” he asked, before biting into it.

“What . . . what do they want from me?” Taylor asked quietly.

“That is the good news, Taylor,” Einar said with a smile. “They only want you to do what you do best. What comes naturally. They want you to heal people.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

KOPANO OKEKE • CALEB CRANE

FRESNO, CALIFORNIA

THEY HELD ON TO THE MINIVAN FOR ONLY A FEW hours.

“Someone will have reported this stolen,” Isabela explained. “The Academy people are probably already looking for us. We don’t want to add local cops, too. Not to mention, that nerd at the grocery store might have reported your little scene with the clones.”

“I can get us another car,” Caleb offered. He drove without taking his eyes off the road, always minding the speed limit. “It’s no problem.”

“Not just any car,” Isabela said. “We need the right car. A car that nobody will miss.”

Kopano thought the Brazilian sounded a lot like his father. A gifted scammer. Those two would get along. Imagine the grifts Udo could have pulled if Isabela were his daughter. He pictured the two of them working together, the daydream ending with short-tempered Isabela berating his father. On a different day, the thought would have made Kopano smile.

He stared out the window, still thinking about last night.

The guy in the shirt and tie had done something to him, of that Kopano had no doubt. Kopano had thought he was a friend—he’d wanted to take a break in the middle of the fight to hug this well-dressed stranger!—but now felt only emptiness towards him.

And then the anger. Reflecting on what he had done, it was as if he’d had an out-of-body experience. He remembered the violence felt like pressure building up inside him. It felt so good to unleash. Pummeling those Harvesters, smashing their faces with his rock-solid fists. When they weren’t enough to sate him, he had turned on Caleb and his duplicates.

Whoever got close, he threw all his strength against. They tried to fight back, but in his rage he was unbreakable.

Kopano bit his lip. He had never thought of himself as a violent person. What he’d done last night . . . that was not heroic. The devil with his briefcase had forced him to act that way.

But the very fact that his Legacies made him capable of such acts . . . he could now understand why Ran had sworn off her powers for a time. What if someone made him do that again?

His companions had been looking at him differently. Warily. Kopano had noticed.

Had he killed any of those men? He wasn’t in control of his actions and they were certainly trying to kill him, but that didn’t make him forget the bodies he’d left broken on the highway. It was self-defense. It was mind control. It was . . .

Kopano rubbed his knuckles. Tried not to think about it.

“There!” Isabela shouted, pointing at a highway sign for Fresno Yosemite International Airport. “That will be perfect!”

Caleb guided their minivan towards the exit. Isabela turned around in her seat and held out her hand to Nigel.

“I will need some money,” she declared.

Nigel dug into his pocket and produced the wad of bills he’d stolen from one of the Harvesters. Kopano’s frown deepened; his brutality had made that possible, his roommate looting the gravely injured.

“Not exactly rolling in it,” Nigel said, counting through the wadded bills. “Need to make sure we got money for petrol if we want to make it to New Mexico.”

Nigel set some of the cash aside and handed Isabela the rest. She counted through it.

“It’ll do,” she said.

“Heartened to hear it,” Nigel replied.

They drove i

nto the airport, where Caleb and Isabela got out. Kopano took over driving duties. He hadn’t been behind the wheel since his days running illicit errands in Lagos. He navigated back towards the gas station they had just passed—the last one before the airport—where they had agreed to meet back up once Caleb and Isabela had acquired a new vehicle.

“She’s good to have around, innit she?” Nigel said, referring to Isabela.

---