“A Two? You mean—”
“Yep. He’s a double-G.”
“Wait, how? I don’t understand.”
Angel paused a moment. She hadn’t really meant to spill all this, at least not yet. She wasn’t shy or embarrassed about her family’s colorful past. It wasn’t a secret, but it also wasn’t the most fun thing to talk about, especially with a girl who’d grown up entirely on the right side of the tracks with multiple loving caretakers watching out for her every minute.
Angel glanced out the airplane window at the ground peering up through the filmy clouds. Large open fields and thickly wooded forests stretched out below them. Houses dotted the landscape at infrequent intervals, and roads were narrow with only the odd vehicle here or there. That was the kind of life Ellie knew, so far from the dirty city streets that were Angel’s childhood playground.
She focused on Ellie again. “Mamí came here from Cuba when she was just a kid. Her parents smuggled her out. Turned out she had an incredible voice, and when she was old enough, she got a job as a jazz singer in the lounge of one of those fancy hotels in downtown D.C. She worked hard and saved her money. She dreamed of going to Juilliard.”
“So she was a Gifted One?”
Angel nodded. “Never knew it, of course, but Granny’s since traced it back.”
“So what happened? Did she make it? Did she go to Juilliard?”
“Nope. Never got the chance. My father came along. They met in the club. Apparently, he’s got a real thing for beautiful women who can sing.” Angel made a wry face. “Or maybe just beautiful women in general.”
“Oh, I see.”
Angel shook her head as she spoke. “Mamí was so naive. She really thought he loved her, that he was going to marry her someday. That he didn’t have a different girlfriend in every city he traveled to. It went on for years.”
“So he was like a salesman or something?”
“Worse. A lawyer. Jacques Laplace, attorney to the stars. Look him up sometime.”
Ellie’s eyes were wide. “Jacques Laplace, the Frog Prince? I don’t have to. Everyone’s heard of him. He defended that movie star out in L.A. who beat his wife to death with a golf club.”
“Yep, that would be him. Talented S.O.B., isn’t he? All that evidence against the guy, and Daddy had the jury eating out of the palm of his hand. By the time the trial was over, they were ready to nominate the defendant for sainthood.”
Ellie looked up in her head, as if doing the math, “So…if Rique’s a Two, that means…”
Angel sighed. “Yes, our father is Gifted, too. What we call a Communicator. They have the gift of gab. Selling ice to the Eskimos, that sort of thing. And like any Gift, it can be used for good or evil.” Angel shifted in her seat, then went on, “You might meet Shelley Walters while we’re in D.C. She’s a Communicator on the Council. Now there’s a woman who knows how to use a Gift. She’s been the head of five different charities in her life, and made them all very successful. She’s gotten money for schools and hospitals, disaster relief, medical research…you find a cause, she’ll talk somebody into funding it.
“Unfortunately,” Angel continued, “my esteemed papi only uses his talent to get criminals out of jail and women out of their underwear.” When Ellie’s face turned bright red, Angel cringed. “Oh, sorry, El. What I meant was—”
Ellie shook her head, appearing embarrassed to have been embarrassed. “No, no, it’s okay. I get what you mean. But what I still don’t understand is why all this means your brother isn’t a good Defender.”
“Not a good Defender? Oh no, I didn’t say that. He’s quite good. No one you’d rather have on your side…except me, of course. But here’s the thing. Anyone can build their body up and learn martial arts and other defensive skills, just like anyone can learn to play the piano or do geometry or whatever. What makes Gifted Ones different is not the skill itself. It’s what’s going on up here.” Angel tapped on the side of her head. “I’m in awesome shape, no doubt about it, but that’s not what makes me good. It’s the Gift. The Gift lets me focus and see things. I zone in. I shut out all distractions—physical, mental, and emotional. I become the weapon. I’m not thinking, ‘Holy crap, I’ve got to beat up this three hundred pound Samurai dude before he crushes me like a bug.’ All I’m thinking is: Left elbow to the jaw. Right heel to the rib cage. Spin and kick. Opponent down. Full stop.”
Then she frowned. “Rique can’t do that. I mean, he tries. We work on it all the time, but the double-gene…it gets in the way. He’s overwhelmed by the drive to achieve his goal. He can’t reel it in. When he needs to fight, to defend, to protect someone, he has a hard time stopping. That’s why he can’t beat me—he’s too afraid of losing control. It reduces his effectiveness. Like this one time, up in D.C., he’s in this pub, and he’s friends with the owner. And the owner’s daughter works there, waits tables and stuff. And some drunk starts hitting on her, grabbed her, scared her or something, and Rique starts wailing on the guy. Nearly killed him. It took like five or six guys to pull him off.”
“Wow, he sounds really brave.” Ellie’s eyes were shining.
“Oh yeah, brave. And stupid. All he had to do was talk to the guy. If he’d said one word to him, the guy would have laid off. Rique doesn’t have to use his Gift. The bad guys usually take one look at him and run the other way.”
Ellie grinned devilishly. “And I’ll bet the women take one look and run straight toward him.”
Angel fell backwards into her seat laughing. “So true. And he kind of lacks self-control in that area, too. He’s definitely a bit of a ladies’ man, but, unlike Dear Old Dad, Rique understands the concept of birth control. Granny made sure to pound that message into his head.”
“Excuse me?” The voice broke into the cabin before either girl realized the door had opened.
Angel sat straight up, red-faced. “Oh, Joe. There you are. Uh, we were just chatting. A little girl talk…”
He narrowed his eyes. “‘Little’ being the operative word, Angel. She’s only sixteen, you know.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Uncle Joe, I wasn’t born yesterday. I know all about the birds and the bees.” Joe’s face took on a mortified expression, so she clarified, “I
mean
from the classes at school. And Aunt Grace. And the Judy Broom books.” She frowned. “No personal experience. What. So. Ever.”
Joe and Angel started laughing, and Joe’s clear blue eyes were sparkling again. Whatever the events of the morning had done to his mood, it seemed to have passed, and Angel looked forward to the intrigue awaiting them in Washington.
Chapter Nine: What Happens in Washington
“Whoa. You can see for miles from up here.” Ellie’s face was pressed against the glass on a wall of windows overlooking some portion of Arlington, Virginia. The landscape included a mish-mash of tall, shiny buildings and a thick mat of green trees, sprinkled with white and pink blossoms.
She turned back around and looked at Angel, who was unpacking her bag, carefully hanging a spare black leather jacket and two black shirts in the large closet. “Geez, Angel, this place must cost a fortune. Who owns it? Who pays for it?”
“You want the bed by the window? ’Cause I should probably be closer to the door.”
Ellie shrugged. “Huh? Sure, whatever.”
“The Council,” Angel added, answering Ellie’s first question. “Technically, they own all our property. Well, except for the farm. Granny owns that. The whole thing. Even the airstrip. Been in her family for generations.”
Ellie hadn’t really given much thought to who owned that massive piece of land with the sprawling Wonderland hidden beneath it, but now that she thought about it, she was curious. “So…maybe it’s none of my business, but where does the Council get its money from?”
Angel spoke matter-of-factly, “Oh, donations mostly, sometimes bequests, from Gifted Ones all over the world. Many of them were helped along to get where they are today by Granny and Joe and Willow and those who came before them, and they want to give back. They want to help Gifteds who need it, to make the most of their Gifts. You know, like your mom and her family. And me and Rique. And Poppy and Spencer and Haji. No one wants to see that kind of talent go to waste.”
“Wow, that sounds incredibly generous…”
“It’s all relative, I guess. Trust me, chica, some of those guys are filthy rich. They can afford it. Football and basketball players, pop stars, famous authors, CEOs of big corporations—some of them never would have had those opportunities if someone from the Council hadn’t given them a hand up.”
Ellie tilted her head to the side, watching Angel arrange her toiletries neatly along the top of the dresser. “And you give back through service.”
“Service. Huh.” She turned to look at Ellie. “I never really thought of it that way before, but yeah, I guess that is my way of giving back. It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, ya know? Protect the people who protected me and my baby brother. I’d do anything for them.” Then she grinned. “They do pay me pretty well, too.”
The sound of the outer door of the condominium banging closed drew their attention. It was followed by Joe’s voice, “Ellie, Angel, you girls still here?”
“Yeah, Joe, back here.”
Ellie followed Angel back out into the main room of the condo—a combination living, dining, and kitchen area, also with a full wall of windows overlooking Arlington.
Joe stood holding up two outfits, one in each hand, covered in clear plastic bags. “I wasn’t sure which size would fit, so I got two. One small, one extra small.”
“Probably gonna be the extra small,” Angel remarked, as she crossed to the dining table, where he had laid some other packages.
Ellie walked closer to him, inspecting the outfits he held up. They were identical-looking: two navy, green, and gold plaid jumpers paired with short-sleeved white blouses. “Man, those are ugly. Who are they for?”
Joe laughed. “Yeah, I think ugly is exactly the look they go for in a Catholic school uniform.”
“Catholic school?”
Before he could answer, there was a knock on the condo door. Joe tucked both dresses into one hand, checked the peep hole, then opened the door. A very petite young woman stepped inside. Ellie wasn’t tall, but this girl was several inches shorter than her, five feet max, and probably weighed less than a hundred pounds. “Hey Joe, what’s up?” the girl said as she walked in. She had some kind of European accent that Ellie couldn’t place. The tiny lady snatched the dresses from Joe and examined them. “Seriously? You want me to wear this? This is the most hideous dress I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Ellie laughed. “That’s what I thought.”
The woman looked up from the dress. “And you are…?”
“Nadia, this is Elodie Eggleston,” Joe offered. “Ellie, this is Nadia Pavlenco. She’s another one of our Defenders.”
Ellie didn’t want to be rude, but she was sure the confusion showed on her face. How could this little micro-human be a Defender? Ellie had no doubt she could take the girl in a fair fight. As if reading her mind, Angel supplied the answer, “Not every Defender is about raw power, El. Nadia has other skills that come in handy.”
Nadia had stepped further into the room, close to the dining table, and was pulling the plastic off one of the plaid uniforms. She spoke to no one in particular as she examined the ugly jumper, “Yep. I crawl, climb, swing, rappel, and squeeze in and out of tiny places like you wouldn’t believe.” She lowered the jumper and looked at Ellie over the top of it. “What do you do?”
“I, uh, I…I don’t know.” Ellie suddenly felt about half the size of little Nadia.
Joe moved behind Ellie and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Ellie’s just here to learn today, Nadia. She’s still discovering her abilities.”
“Uh-huh.” Nadia shrugged, then took the two uniforms and a bag from the table, and headed to the bedroom where Angel and Ellie had set their belongings. “I’ll try these on.”
After the door closed behind her, Joe apologized, “Uh, sorry about that, Ellie. Nadia’s from a different culture. She tends to be suspicious of strangers. She has to get to know you. Then she’s really quite pleasant.”
Angel made a face. “No, she’s not.”
Joe laughed. “Yes, she is. And she’s extremely well-read and knowledgeable about European history and politics. She makes a delightful dinner companion.”
“Good. Then you can take her instead of me tomorrow night to meet the Germans, and me and Ellie can do something fun.”
“But Dr. Graber is the preeminent archeologist—” Angel’s facial expression stopped him, and he relented. “I’ll think about it.”
Nadia emerged from the bedroom, sporting the ugly plaid uniform and a pair of flat-soled shoes that made her look even shorter than her own shoes had. Her long blonde hair hung lazily around her shoulders, giving her a sexy, sultry appearance that made for an odd contrast. She tugged at the loose material around her waist. “It’s a little big.”
“Did you try the extra small?” Joe asked.
She frowned. “This
is
the extra small. But it’s okay, adds to the gawky girl effect.”
Joe propped his chin on his fist. “Yeah, but it’s not quite right. You’re supposed to be fourteen. Take off all your make-up, and let’s try two braids.”