Touch (Denazen #1)(9)

When I got to the top, Kale was behind me, standing very close. I was about to reinforce quiet, but he zipped past me, taking the lead. I reached out to grab the back of his shirt, but he was too quick, already to the other edge of the room. Heart thumping, and a lump forming in my throat, I followed him across the kitchen. He stood in the doorway, and when I tried to look around him, he blocked my way.

“No,” he whispered, grabbing my arm.

“No what?” The air grew thin. Something about the way he was looking at me.

“We need to leave now.”

“Leave? Why? What’s wrong?”

More silence. Kale was trying to nudge me back down the stairs.

The thin, icy air drained from the room. I pushed him aside and ducked my head around the corner. Curd lay in the middle of the living room, face down and still as a snapshot. For a few horrific moments, I thought he might be dead, but finally he stirred.

I jerked my arm from Kale’s grasp and lunged for Curd. “Oh my God, Curd! What happened?”

An unfamiliar voice boomed, jarring my attention away from Curd. “Living room!”

Kale was at my side, pulling me to my feet. We made it to the kitchen as footsteps thundered closer, and before I could blink, there were two men standing in front of us. One of them lunged for us as Kale jerked me backward. His fingertips raked across my shoulder, snapping the edge of my shirt. I stumbled, catching myself before losing the battle with gravity.

Kale’s fingers were tight on my wrist as the men, one wearing a dark blue suit, the other wearing the same leotard the group by the stream had on, advanced. They matched our steps—us back, them forward.

I turned toward the staircase at the other end of the kitchen that led to Curd’s room, where a third leotard clothed man stood, tranq gun in hand, blocking our escape. There had to be something—anything—I could use as a weapon. We’d backed into the middle of the room now, trapped beside a center island. I pulled down a large cast iron pan from the rack above my head and swung it in front of us.

“Subdue and capture them both—Cross’ orders,” the suit said, his face blank. He lunged for me while the man behind us made a grab for Kale.

Kale was like a ninja, skating easily out of reach and ducking under the man’s grasp. Pivoting, he spun full circle and brought his right forearm across the man’s chest. He followed hard with an upturned fist, whaling into the man’s hip. His attacker crumpled to the floor, howling in pain.

The other leotard man sprinted forward as Suit Guy adjusted his grip on my upper arm. I swung out with the frying pan again, missing his head but catching the edge of his shoulder with a satisfying thwack. He released his grip in surprise, and I stumbled away.

But not far enough.

He recovered quickly and lunged forward again. This time, instead of the cold clinical glare, he wore a heated snarl. With a powerful arc, he slapped me across the face. Everything danced and spun. My cheek felt like it had exploded.

I barely registered the jolt as I landed, jarring my right wrist and knee on the floor. My vision cleared enough to make out the man’s hand darting forward again. I aimed for the back of his legs and kicked out, but Kale was faster. In a flash, he stood above me, hand intercepting the man’s before it closed around my upper arm.

For a moment, nothing happened. Kale froze. Eyes meeting mine, he wore a horrified expression. Then, like the most high-tech special effect Hollywood had to offer, the man’s skin shriveled and grayed. In a matter of seconds, he collapsed inward until nothing was left but a pile of clothing sitting amidst a mountain of ashlike dust.

Behind us, the two other men stirred. “Miss Cross—”

Subdue and capture them both—Cross’ orders… Jesus what the hell was Dad into?

I climbed to my feet, the room still spinning a little. Kale grabbed my arm, and we sprinted out the door and across Curd’s lawn. Subdue and capture, my ass. “Go, go, go!”

§

An hour later, we were tucked under a tree behind my high school. Could it have been this morning I’d been laying out in the sun, enjoying the first days of summer? It felt like weeks had passed. Was it only hours ago my dad had been merely a self-absorbed, coldhearted lawyer in whose eyes I could do nothing right? Now what was he? The head of some super-secret program that used people with strange gifts as weapons?

“I need to know,” I whispered, barely audible. My gut already knew the answer, but still…. Without confirmation there was still a small glimmer of hope—and hope could be a dangerous thing. “My dad told me she was dead—does he know? That she’s there, I mean. Does he know my mom’s still alive?”

Kale nodded. “I’m sorry.” He looked regretful and sad. Also a little scared. The corners of his lips were turned downward, expression darkening. He stepped closer, taking my hands. “He lied to you. You cannot trust him.”

When we’d left Curd’s, I was still debating what to do about Kale. Watching him deal with those guys proved he was more than capable of taking care of himself. So what was stopping me from wishing him luck and shooing him off on his merry little way? At first it was the look in his eyes when he’d demanded my shoes back at the stream. True fear. That same fear was mirrored in his expression when he spoke about Dad at Curd’s and when he told me about Mom being at Denazen. Now that same fear was back, but this time it was for me.