Whisper (Whisper #1)(64)
Dante’s arm moves in a flash until his meaty hand covers Sneak’s mouth. “It’s rude to interrupt, kid.”
Kael’s voice pulls my attention back to him.
“Jeremiah was charismatic. He had influence, but more than that, he had power — the kind of power most Speakers can never dream of commanding. Whatever his mind could conceive, he could achieve. He was the ultimate weapon.”
Remembered words invade my thoughts: They can create the unimaginable, unleash the impossible. They’re the ultimate weapon.
I gasp with realization. “Jeremiah was a Creator? As in, the Creator — the power-obsessed psycho everyone fears?”
Kael’s expression seems to close off. “I see you’ve heard of him.”
“Of him, yes, but not about him,” I answer, my mind spinning. “All I know is that it’s because of whatever he did that people will panic if they discover I’m a Creator, too.” I glance at the others in the room and amend, “Well, the people at Lengard. You all seem to be the exception.”
“Or perhaps we’re the norm, and your pals at Lengard are the exception,” Pandora offers, finger-combing her purple pigtails. “Just a thought.”
“The coup may have freed the Speakers from their immediate prison,” Kael goes on, “but they were still just a lost group of teenagers at the time, and they had the full force of the Australian military beating down on the door to the facility. They were trapped, and they knew it. And that forced them to carry out some desperate measures.
“Among the Genesis Speakers, there were two others Jeremiah was close with — Maverick Falon and Kendall Vanik.”
I give a small jolt at the familiar names, my attention now piqued.
“Falon’s Spoken words were supernaturally wise, so he assisted with insight, logic and strategy when it came to complex reasoning and decision making. As for Vanik, he was able to read minds like Dante can, but his ability was phenomenally powerful. He was also considered a genius, and he managed to convince Jeremiah to act out against the military, to cut them off from ever being able to regain control of Lengard or the Speakers inhabiting it.”
I’m fascinated by his version of Lengard’s history, and I find my categorization of good versus bad beginning to blur.
“Vanik told Jeremiah that the only way they would all be safe was if they were forgotten. That anyone who had ever heard so much as a whisper about the existence of Speakers needed to have his or her memory erased.”
Ward’s voice sweeps through my consciousness: Just center your thoughts on Abby, and imagine the people who watched that happen forgetting what they saw. Then Speak.
I know the kind of power Kael is talking about. I’ve experienced it myself.
“Jeremiah followed through with Vanik’s advice,” Kael says. “In a matter of seconds, any knowledge of Lengard disappeared from the minds of anyone without a Speaking ability. Jeremiah and the others were free.”
I lean back in my seat, having moved to the edge of my chair at some stage during the story. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
Kael nods once. “The ‘but’ is that the military’s initial testing on Vanik made him crazy. As in, clinically insane.”
This description is not news to me.
“His condition deteriorated as the years passed, and Falon and Jeremiah’s concern grew, until everything came to a head about a decade ago,” Kael says, his eyes unfocused, as if looking into the past himself. “That was when the second round of Xanaphan children began entering puberty and awakening their Speaking abilities, meaning it wouldn’t be long before the government swooped in to repeat their actions with a new generation of Speakers. Jeremiah and Falon — even Vanik, in his sane moments — wouldn’t allow that to happen.
“So, while Jeremiah and Falon concocted a strategy to reach the newly Speaking teenagers and get them safely to Lengard before the military stepped in, Vanik went about his own, separate mission. He figured that if everyone had the capacity to Speak, then the military wouldn’t care about a rogue group of supernaturals living underneath the city. They’d be considered the same as everyone else. So he decided to make it so everyone, anyone, would be able to Speak.”
Kael says nothing more, and I cross my legs, uncross them. Cross them again. The whole time, he watches me silently.
When I can’t handle waiting further, I say, “How did he plan on doing that? Didn’t they get rid of all the Xanaphan research? And didn’t Jeremiah wipe the memories of anyone who knew anything about it?”
“Yes, to both,” Kael confirms. “But Vanik didn’t intend to recreate Xanaphan and replicate it for mass development.”
“Then what —”
“Insane or not, he was still a genius,” Kael interrupts. “He’d had years to read the minds of everyone he had contact with, acquiring more information than you could possibly imagine. Information like complicated, experimental medical practices and dangerous, risky procedures.”
Still unsure what he’s getting at, I just look at him and wait for him to explain.
“When two weeks went by without anyone seeing Vanik, Falon and Jeremiah went to visit him in his lab,” Kael says. “What they saw …” He shakes his head and tries again. “On one side of the lab were Speakers lying on examination tables, and on the other side were some of the non-Speaking military guards who had been captured in the coup but were offered positions in security after their memories had been wiped. Each of the bodies Vanik had in his lab were in various stages of … testing.”