The Search for Artemis (The Chronicles of Landon Wicker) (41 page)

“How can you do that?” Landon blurted out.

“Quiet!” Celia commanded in a restrained voice. “You’ll wake everyone, and I’ll explain in a minute. Right now we need to find somewhere safe where we can talk.”

After staring off in thought for a moment, Landon said, “I think I know a place.”

THE TALE OF ARETMIS

It was early morning. The purplish aura of the rising sun covering the sky in mild light, but the warming touch of its rays still lay hidden behind the mountains to the east. A light fog had come in across the lake, covering the valley and the forest in a shallow haze.

Landon and Celia hurried across the dewy grass and made their way through the woods. They sped through the trees. Landon knew the way without question. Even though there was no marked path, he knew which tree or rock designated the next step in the journey to the sanctuary hidden in the mountains.

Soon they were standing before the rock wall of the northern mountains. Landon stood silently for a moment, rethinking his decision to bring Celia there. It was the safest place Landon knew of, but it was also Dr. Brighton’s secret hideaway. His teacher had trusted him to keep it secret, but it was the only place he could think of that would be safe from prying eyes and inquisitive ears. Unfortunately, Artemis’ tale was too important and there was nowhere else to hear it.

Without waiting another moment, Landon raised his arm, gripped the boulder with his abilities and with a motion of his hand, rolled the stone aside, revealing the entrance into the tranquil paradise that was Dr. Brighton’s Secret Garden.

Landon led Celia to the arbor where he and Dr. Brighton had spent so many Saturdays training. The garden was in a state of utmost splendor. The cherry trees were in full bloom; their branches filled with a resplendent number of delicate pinkish-white blossoms. With every passing breeze, the trees would sway just enough to loosen a few of the blossoms, causing them to break free and coat the ground with little specks of their beauty.

The other trees and shrubs that were so meticulously planted in Dr. Brighton’s Japanese garden were lush and green, bursting with new growth. The creek filled the air with its soothing din as it washed over rocks and fell over tiny waterfalls. The intoxicating aroma of the living garden wafted into their noses as they sped into the sanctuary.

They hurried down the paths and over the bridges, passing the pond filled with colorful koi fish that swam under flowering water lilies, but they did pause for a moment by the pagoda to see if there was any sign of Dr. Brighton inside.

Satisfied he had actually decided to sleep in the Gymnasium, they continued to the arbor and settled there.

“God, this place is wonderful,” Celia said in admiration as she looked around the garden. “Your ability to block me from your thoughts has definitely improved. I had no idea this place existed.” Celia completed her rotation and finished taking in her surroundings. Her demeanor then changed the instant her eyes reconnected with Landon. He was standing rigidly on the stone floor, looking pointedly at her.

“Celia, what’s going on?” Landon asked.

“Hmm, I don’t even know where to start.” Celia lowered her head and stepped closer and closer to Landon, biding her time while she tried to figure out the best way to frame everything. “For starters, yes, I am Artemis and the reason you saw me last night is that I work for Metis Labs.”

Landon’s eyes widened, which forced Celia to continue, “But it’s not what you think. The Gymnasium’s been lying to you since the beginning. You weren’t brought here to become a better person, or to help the United States like they told you. The Gymnasium exists for one reason and one reason alone—to turn you into a weapon they can use.”

“Celia, you aren’t making any sense,” Landon interjected. How could the Gymnasium—his home—be bad? “What are you talking about? Why would you do this?”

“How do I explain this?” Celia turned her head away for a moment while she thought. “Landon, have you heard of a synaptic sync?”

“No.” Landon was so confused.
Is this just another thing they haven’t gotten to yet in my Pantheon training?

“Well, I’ve been given clearance to show you what I know—to make you understand. But I think the only way I’m going to be able to make you see is if you see my memories. I want to show you how all of this started.”

Celia grabbed Landon by the wrist and pulled him to the ground as she lowered herself into a seated position. Looking at her perplexedly, Landon followed along and joined her on the stone floor of the arbor. As he sat across from her, he couldn’t understand what she was talking about or how she was going to make him understand why she was working for Metis Labs.

“Take my hands,” Celia ordered as she extended her hands forward, palms upward, and waited for Landon to grab hold of them. “I’m going to start from the beginning.”

Landon cautiously placed his hands in hers. He wanted to understand. The moment his fingers touched her skin, Landon felt a tugging sensation coming upward from the base of his spine, and then saw flashes of white light until he was somewhere completely different.

Looking around, Landon realized he was in some small town’s police station. He sat in a chair beside an officer’s desk, watching as men with badges and guns clipped to their belts walked around the precinct with purpose. Two men, one in a crisp, black suit and the other in slacks and a blue oxford, were in a heated discussion down the hall, and one of them kept shooting Landon a quick glance.

Their voices could be heard from where he sat, but they were too muddled with the rest of the commotion going on around him for Landon to understand what they were saying. After a few more seconds of this, the man in the black suit turned away from the guy he was talking to and started down the hall toward him.

When I was seven, my parents were murdered.
Celia’s voice resounded in Landon’s mind. Something like this had happened to him before with Dr. Pullman. He was somehow experiencing Celia’s memories, trapped in her mind, listening to her narrate her own life’s story.
I wasn’t lying about that, but on that day, as I was sitting in a police station, a man in a black suit came and spoke to me. He said he was there to take me to where I belonged. Where he took me was a place similar to the Gymnasium. It’s called the Academy.

Landon’s thoughts interrupted.
Wait! So there really is another place like the Gymnasium?
He couldn’t believe what she was saying. There
was
another facility like the Gymnasium for psychokinetics.

Yes. But unlike the Gymnasium, the Academy truly does strive to do what they say.
A hint of contempt could be heard in her voice as she referred to the Gymnasium.
The Academy trains psychokinetics, like us, to control our abilities so that we can help humanity.

When I was brought there, I was a special case. Unlike everyone else, I hadn’t debuted yet. I was only seven.
Her bodiless voice spoke emphatically in Landon’s head.
But they let me stay anyways, and they raised me from then on. They clothed me, fed me, taught me what I needed to know, and when I was ten, it happened. A stupid boy, Aaron Hopkins, kept pestering me and pestering me. Then one day at lunch he wouldn’t leave me alone, and I finally snapped.

The precinct disappeared from Landon’s mind and a new setting emerged. Landon was now standing in a cafeteria, holding a tray in his hands picked clean of food. The room was much warmer than the Gymnasium’s cafeteria, with rich wooden tables running down it. It had vaulted ceilings, like a cathedral, and large stained glass windows ran down the walls, which ignited the room in bright light.

Standing in front of Landon was a boy of about sixteen. He was tall, freckled and had buzzed red hair. He seemed to be intentionally standing in Landon’s way.

“Aaron, can you please move out of my way?” Celia asked while Landon watched through her eyes. Realizing he was standing in the Academy’s cafeteria, Landon’s heart beat faster for a moment. It was the day of Celia’s apocratusis.

“Uh, I don’t think I can,” Aaron snidely replied.

“Come on, let me by.” Without a say in the matter, Landon moved forward in Celia’s body, but Aaron stepped in front of him, cutting off his path to the exit.

“I think you need to find another way out,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. Aaron towered over Landon. Celia was obviously quite short at this age. “This way’s for psy-kins, not orphans.”

At Aaron’s words, Landon felt her anger surge from within. Looking down, he could see that Celia’s hands clenched the edges of her food tray with such power that her knuckles turned white. Landon could tell that at any second, Celia was going to erupt. Aaron had pushed a serious button.

Then the table to Landon’s right suddenly burst into flames. Luckily there wasn’t anyone sitting at it, because that could have resulted in a serious tragedy. With the flames reflecting in his eyes, Aaron stepped back, and the few remaining students in the cafeteria stared at Landon in fear. As Celia, he was still standing with his tray clasped in front of him. The orange and yellow flames rose high into the air as the wood of the table splintered and cracked under the intense heat. He wanted to run away to safety, but his body was frozen in place. Just like Landon’s apocratusis, Celia was overtaken by her abilities. She had no control over what was happening.

Then the table to Landon’s left caught fire. At this the students in the cafeteria all ran for their lives, leaving Landon alone in the aisle as walls of flame reached up toward the sky.

Anyways,
Celia interjected. The memory faded away into nothingness.
From then on, I went through training. I did fine in all the subjects they taught—Tactometry, Telekinetics, Thought Reception, the usual—but I also had some abilities they had never seen before.

Rather than full memories, images of Celia’s life flashed through Landon’s mind as a slideshow. Like stills of her life, he watched as she worked tirelessly to perfect her abilities in the training sessions she had at the Academy. Before she began to speak again, an image of her passing through a wall lingered in his mind.

For some reason, I’m able to manipulate things on an atomic level.
Celia paused for a moment.
I haven’t been able to set things on fire since my debut,
she added offhandedly.
But that’s the reason I can walk through things.

The scientists at the Academy did all sorts of tests and experiments to try and figure out what was odd about me, but they never could figure out why I was different. The best explanation they came up with, though, was that I am able to excite the atoms that make up an object, as well as those within my own body, to the point where I can pass right through them. There are some issues with denser stuff, but for the most part, I can go through anything.

The images faded away and through white light, Landon found himself sitting in a chair in an office somewhere. With nothing but a glass desk in an expansive room, the place exuded power and strength. Sitting at the desk was a woman in a black skirt suit. She had a powerful demeanor as she sat poised in her high-back chair with her head raised. On her desk was a nameplate with “Ainsley Ross-Harper” etched into the metal.

“Celia, welcome to Metis Labs,” Mrs. Ross-Harper began. Her voice was warmer than Landon expected it would be. “I’ve heard a lot about you and am very pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Landon could hear the nervous energy in Celia’s voice.

“Please, call me Ainsley,” she replied. “I have a proposal for you Celia, but first I want to ask you a question. How much do you know about the Olympia Corporation?”

Celia looked at Ainsley for an extended moment before replying. “I know that it was founded in 1958, and that you and your husband ran it while you worked on Project Prometheus. I know that they created the Prometheus gene that gives all of us our abilities. And if I am remembering correctly, the Olympia Corporation was disbanded in 1996 after Congress decided the projects were . . . ‘ethically deplorable,’ I think was the term they used in orientation.

“We were told that you and your husband were given amnesty because the projects were initially sanctioned by the government, and after that you decided to create Metis Labs and the Academy.”

“Yes, all of this is true,” Ainsley said. “When Congress presented us with our transgressions, it was the first time I realized what I had done. Ever since, I’ve been using my resources to help mankind and correct the mistakes I made out of blind ambition. That’s why I created Metis Labs and the Academy. . . . I was ashamed, and I needed to make up for the part I’d played. My estranged husband, however, did not feel the same remorse.

“So when the Olympia Corporation was destroyed, he left me, taking his capital, and went off to fund a new venture, the Pallas Corporation. This company was very much like the Olympia Corporation, but with more noble intentions. It was to fund the scientific advancement of the United States and bring technology into a new age.

“On the surface, my husband stayed true to his intentions, but what no one realized was that his scientific breakthroughs and technological advancements were not of his own work. Drake Harper went into league with the CEOs of two other giants of industry and secretly developed the Triumvirate of Titans.”

Ainsley Ross-Harper stood up from her desk and began to pace along the back wall of the office. She sounded strange, as if her conscience was torn between despising and pitying her husband.

“This alliance entered into the business of organized crime, particularly in the trade of intelligence, weapons and blackmail to strong arm governments into carrying out their agenda and instigating conflicts that work to the Triumvirate’s benefit. Before anyone could stop them, they had created a network of influence so strong and tightly woven that there appears to be no destroying them.