Uninvited (Uninvited, #1)(55)

“Come. Out with it. There must be something special about him to have you in such a state.”

My face burns hotter. If I give her Sean’s name would it truly help? Or is she asking to make sure he isn’t included? I can’t fathom Agency rationale.

She considers me thoughtfully. “Interesting. Actually, I’ve had to cross one carrier off my list . . . turns out he preferred suicide.” She says this like it’s nothing. “I suppose a carrier charismatic enough to charm you should be evaluated. Who knows? He might be an asset . . . especially if his presence there makes you more at ease. Maybe he could fill the vacancy. What’s his name?”

“Sean,” I respond, unsure if she’s messing with me or not. “Sean O’Rourke.”

She nods. “We’ll look into him.”

And I don’t know whether to believe her or not, but the tightness in my chest eases. He might not be headed to a detention camp. I cling to that hope. He might be going with me—to a place where we can both find a future.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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* * *





Phone call from President Pitt to Dr. Louis Wainwright


“I’ll give you your damned training camp, Wainwright. You just better be right about this. . . .”





TWENTY-ONE




I’M WAITING WHEN THE VAN PULLS UP THE driveway. Three figures sit in the back, two people in the front, one of whom opens the door and steps down. Agent Stiles. The sun hits her sleek hair, firing it almost blue.

I let the curtain fall back into place. Sucking in a deep breath, I turn and locate my bag.

I only packed what was on the list Agent Stiles gave my mother. Underwear, toothbrush. My favorite shower gel. A few changes of clothes and an extra set of shoes. The bag hangs lightly in my hands.

My parents come down the stairs at the sound of the doorbell. Even Dad stayed home to see me off. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me so hard I can hardly breathe. “You’ll do great,” he murmurs against my hair. “They know you’re special. That’s why they chose you. You’re not like the others—”

I pull away, cutting him off. “I’ll miss you, too, Dad.” I can’t hear him say that I’m not like the others . . . that I’m better than all the rest of them. Not when I don’t know if it’s true.

To know that, I have to know that what’s inside them isn’t inside me. And I can’t know that for sure. I don’t know anything except that I’m going to absorb everything they teach me. I’m going to learn and make something of myself. I’ll find new goals and new dreams.

Mom opens the door to Agent Stiles. The woman nods at us and then turns, marching to the van, expecting me to follow.

“We’ll see you soon,” Mom says, even though we know no such thing. I let her say it. It seems the thing for people to say when parting ways.

I nod, hugging her.

I turn to my brother and a lump forms in my throat. He pulls me into his arms, clutching me with wide-splayed fingers. “I’ve got your back.”

“I know.”

His voice lowers so that only I can hear. “You come home if it doesn’t work out. I’ll help you. . . . There are places you can go, hide. . . .”

The van honks.

“I gotta go.” I step free and squeeze Mitchell’s arm, trying to convey to him that I’m going to be okay. He looks at me intently.

“I hear you,” I assure him. Lifting my bag, I’m out the door, moving swiftly down the front walk, not looking back on the only home I’ve known.

The side door to the van yawns open for me. Gil sits in the bench seat behind the driver, waving merrily and motioning for me to take the space beside him. Like we’re heading to some kind of fun summer camp. I hop inside, nodding at Agent Stiles as she slams the door shut.

I glance behind me to the shapes sitting there. Sean and a boy I’ve never seen before.

Sean looks at me but he doesn’t speak. His expression is stoic, impossible to read. His fuller top lip presses into an unsmiling line. I wonder if he knows that I had something to do with his being here. I wonder if he cares.

I hold his gaze for a moment and then face forward again.

We’re moving now, leaving my house behind.


They’re taking us to a place called Mount Haven. This much I glean during the van ride and one plane trip. Our group grows as we travel. By the time we land in New Mexico, there are nineteen of us. Agent Stiles and five others escort us. We get plenty of stares as we’re led through the airport and ushered through security. At least ten of us bear the imprints, and people actually press to far walls and clutch their children close as we pass. We are monsters in their eyes. Real live bogeymen in the flesh.

Although Sean speaks very little, he stays close to me and Gil, his eyes constantly moving, assessing everyone. Everything. I guess there’s comfort in the familiar—and that happens to be me and Gil. Or maybe he just feels protective of us. Again. Like in the Cage.

With Gil, there is no risk of awkward silence. He keeps the conversation flowing as we munch on the sack meal they provided, driving deep into the mountain wilderness, leaving civilization behind. Not that it’s very civilized anymore.