Pivot Point (Pivot Point, #1)(80)

“No more than what you’ve been doing.”

He slams Bobby against the wall with a vibrating thud, and I break free of his control. My muscles are so tense that the second I’m released, I spring forward. My mind must’ve still been screaming as well, because as I hit the floor I yell out, “Help.”

Duke drops Bobby and comes rushing to my side. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t touch me. Get him.” I point, but Bobby isn’t where Duke left him. Before I have a chance to even wonder what wall he slithered through, he is standing behind Laila, who is holding a knife to her own throat, a look of panic in her eyes.

“Addie,” Bobby says. His eyes are like fire. “This isn’t how it was supposed to happen. Why did you have to call him here?”

“Laila, what are you doing?” Duke asks, still squatting beside me.

“First she is going to Erase the last hour of both of your memories. Then she is going to kill herself, because her father is such a loser. Right, Laila?”

She nods, and a small trickle of dark blood runs down her pale skin.

“Bobby, you don’t have to do this. We’re not going to tell anyone.”

“Now why don’t I believe you, Duke?”

Despite the situation, I feel a sense of calm come over me that helps me analyze things. “Duke,” I say under my breath, “do something.”

“I’m trying.”

“Can’t you knock the knife out of her hand or send the couch flying at Bobby’s face? Do something.”

Bobby lets out a low, chilling laugh. “Yeah, Duke. Do something,” he says in a high-pitched impersonation of me. “Make something move.” He picks up a picture frame from the bookcase next to him. “Move anything.” He hurls the picture toward us, and Duke holds up his hand to block it. It ricochets off his palm and hits my leg. It lands on the floor between us, the glass splintered.

I look at Duke, whose face is panicked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“The girl deserves an answer, Duke.” Bobby gives me a look of patronizing pity. “Why don’t you tell her how Ray helps you deceive everyone? Don’t you find it odd, Addie, that Duke can only move things when Ray is around?”

“Stop it,” Duke says.

“Oh, sorry, am I interfering with your concentration? Are you trying to give her happy feelings right now?”

I can’t breathe again, but this time Bobby has nothing to do with it. The room and everyone in it seem to be underwater. Laila sways slightly back and forth with the knife pressed to her throat. I can hear her draw in a surprised breath, her shoulders rising slowly with the sound. Bobby leans one hand against the bookcase, a smile creeping onto his face. And next to me, Duke turns toward Bobby, each miniscule movement being registered and recorded by my mind. Has the world around me slowed down, or am I in another dimension?

Outside, a car’s tires screech over what sounds like a mile of asphalt before car doors open and slam. And then Duke dives forward, swimming through the air. Bobby’s smile contorts into rage, and Laila’s hand pulls back and then moves forward, releasing the knife. It flies like an arrow through honey, straight toward me. I have plenty of time to see its exact path and move out of the way. It sticks, point first, into the wall behind me. When the front door is battered open, the spell is broken, and Duke’s flying form connects with Bobby in a full-body tackle. Laila collapses in a heap on the floor, and I let out the breath I had been holding in a giant whoosh of air.

I crawl forward to Laila’s side. Her neck is dripping blood, but the wound looks superficial.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “Did that knife hit you? I had no control over it.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“And about Duke …”

“Duke’s a Mood Controller,” I manage to say without emotion, even though I had learned it myself less than two minutes ago. “He had us both under his influence.”

“Hands up where I can see them, everyone,” a man in a black Bureau vest says as he enters. He’s followed by three men holding guns. Soon the guns are only pointing at Bobby. Laila, Duke, and I are led outside to where my mom waits by a white, unmarked car. As I run toward her wide open arms, the tears I’d been holding in making their way down my face, the world fades to black.





CHAPTER 36


screwed: adj. having to choose a bad path to avoid a worse one My eyes pop open, and I suck in a huge mouthful of air.

“What did you see?” Laila asks.

Her voice startles me and, as if on a springboard, I launch myself to a sitting position. It takes me a moment to realize everything I just saw wasn’t real even though my heart feels like it’s been ripped in half.

“You look horrible,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” I push my fingers against my temples as if that action will squeeze out a solution. There has to be a solution.

My dad.

I jump out of bed and run to the door. Just as I’m about to open it, I stop. Think this through first, Addie. If I tell my dad about Bobby and Poison that will solve both problems, won’t it? No. What if telling my dad about Bobby delays his leaving the Compound so he can investigate? I know the Bureau can’t use my Search as evidence. First I’m underage, and second my ability is considered subjective. Too many variables. So, what if my dad can’t bring Bobby in for questioning? What if that sets off a completely different series of events with Bobby still free? If I could save the murdered girls referred to in the interviews, I would march out there right now. But they’re already gone. The first crime happened the second week in September and the other months ago.