Unforgettable (Talented Saga #6) (14 page)

And the day had started out so
promising.

The flight from Eden to London was
short, less than two hours. Victoria had sent a short dossier on
the tipster to each of our communicators. His name was Riley Wyld.
He was nineteen and a registered Talent, or Chrome as our kind was
commonly referred to in England. Under abilities, he was listed as
an Electrical Manipulator/Electrician.

“
What does it mean that
he’s ‘registered’?” Penny asked, wrinkling her nose, as she read
the same information off of her screen as I was.

“
Chromes are required to
register themselves on our side of the pond,” Angus explained in
his Scottish brogue. He sat in the copilot’s seat at the front of
the small craft. “Not all do, mind you. Apparently this bloke
follows the laws. Or, at least his parents did when he was
born.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. In my
short time working for UNITED, I’d begun to realize how differently
other countries treated the Talented. Many treated our kind as
second-class citizens, paying Talents lower wages, refusing them
entry into certain schools, and generally discriminating against us
on principle. I had thought England was among the more progressive
nations, but apparently not. It was no wonder Victoria and the rest
of the council were worried about the Treaty vote.

Angus, our resident expert, gave us a
crash course in all things Poacher on the ride. The lesson did not
improve my mood. In fact, I became so irate at one point that Talia
used her powers to calm me down before the electrical disturbances
I was causing crashed the hovercraft. Through the haze of disbelief
and anger, I managed to learn a few pertinent facts about the
Talent traffickers.

One: They were descended from Royalty.
Sort of. Way back in the day, some jackass sold his daughter, an
exceptionally strong Mind Manipulator to King Jenson of England,
because the royal brat was so enamored with the girl he wouldn’t
take no for an answer. In exchange, said jackass got his debts
forgiven, a bunch of land, and some titles. He also got an idea:
Selling Talents was profitable. Since none of his other children
were Talented, he needed to find other ones who were. Enter the
kidnapping. Although, it wasn’t even necessary half the time. With
the Talented being a relatively new phenomenon, and parents feeling
uneasy towards their Talented children, all the jackass had to do
was offer to pay other equally-greedy parents a nominal fee for
their gifted offspring. Then he’d simply turn around and sell the
kid to someone else for ten times the cost. Voila—Poaching was
born.

Two: Poaching was, strictly speaking,
illegal the world over. The penalties varied from country to
country, ranging from decades in prison to a dinky fine. England
was somewhere in the middle on the punishment spectrum. First-time
offenders caught kidnapping a Talent received a stiff monetary
fine, usually paid for by the Poaching family they worked for.
Repeat offenders could receive jail time, but that rarely happened.
In general, most of the authorities could be bribed to look the
other way. Some didn’t even require compensation to turn a blind
eye; they did it because they either didn’t believe Talents were
human, or because they didn’t want to be labeled
“sympathizers”.

It was all bullshit as far as I was
concerned.

Three: Auctions, in which large groups
of Talents were auctioned off to the highest bidder, were rarer
these days than they used to be. More common were privately
arranged sales set up in advance. A buyer would contact the
Poachers with a request for the type of Talent he or she wanted,
and the Poachers would locate one matching the description. Price
was discussed beforehand. At this point, though, with the Created
running free and causing havoc, the Poachers apparently realized
that they had a treasure trove of merchandise just ripe for the
picking. Since UNITED, the only organization the Poachers truly
feared, wanted the Created swept under the proverbial rug, the
leaders of the vile organization figured that even they wouldn’t
cause a fuss when people began disappearing.

And UNITED had not. Until
now.

Kenly’s disappearance was being
treated differently than the others previously reported. Why? Angus
wasn’t entirely sure. It seemed by mentioning Talia’s name, the
tipster, this Riley Wyld, had sent up red flags all over the place.
But again, Angus wasn’t clear on why.

“
As if we don’t have enough
to deal with,” Brand muttered after Angus was done with his
lecture.

“
Righto, mate,” Angus
agreed. “We might not be able to deal with the Poachers now,
though. Depends what this Riley bloke has to say. Part of the
reason UNITED has never gone after them is because we don’t know
enough about their inner workings. It’s closed up, trap shut. The
organization is a family run affair, isn’t it? Getting one of the
higher-ups to turn on his own family is right
difficult.”

“
Is Riley Wyld a member of
one of the families?” Talia asked, confused.

“
Not as far we know,” Angus
said. “But says he might have some insider information.”

“
Like what?” I asked
skeptically.

“
Don’t know now, do I? If I
did, I wouldn’t need her.”

Angus nodded in Talia’s
direction.

“
Me?” she asked, a little
taken aback.

I wasn’t surprised, though. As
Victoria had said, Talia was the best interrogator that UNITED had
on their payroll.

“
Bloke says he’ll only talk
to you,” Angus continued.

That
surprised me. I’d thought we were being sent to London so
Talia could siphon whatever this kid knew from his mind. But
apparently, the guy
wanted
to talk to her. Interesting.

“
Hold on to your knickers,
folks. We’re about to land.”

With that Angus faced front, and the
hovercraft began our descent into London.

AN INCOMING MESSAGE
from Victoria instructed us to meet Riley Wyld at
the Giraffe, a pub in an area of London known simply as the Slums.
Being mid-afternoon London-time, the pub was sparse, with only a
handful of patrons drinking mugs of ale and eating steaming bowls
of something that smelled much better than it looked. Admittedly,
the aroma was enticing, though, and I was even betting the chunks
of meat were real—not some kelp-based substitution flavored to
taste like chicken or whatever.

When the eight of us walked through
the front door, all four heads in the Giraffe turned and every eye
stared as though we were the main attraction at a freak-show
carnival. Maybe we were. I wasn’t sure how many Talents Londoners
encountered on a daily basis; for all I knew, we were a rare
sight.

I spotted Riley Wyld immediately. His
power called to me from the moment I entered the establishment, and
even if he hadn’t been the only patron under fifty in the bar, I’d
have known him instantly.

Riley was not what I was expecting. He
was tall and slim with vibrant red spiky hair that stuck out from
his head like porcupine quills. By comparison, the color made
Penny’s orangey-red locks look downright dull. Even as accustomed
as I was to the extraordinary eyes most Talents had, I still found
Riley’s bizarre. His irises were iridescent flames that twisted and
spun, changing color every time he titled his head. Still, what I
found most intriguing about the tipster had nothing to do with his
appearance. No, it was the sheer power that emanated off of him in
waves, so stifling the effect was near suffocating. Even though the
British apparently didn’t classify the Talent levels like TOXIC
had, Riley was easily an Elite.

“
Riley Wyld?” I asked,
taking the lead as my team filed in behind me.

“
Talia?” he asked,
extending a hand to shake.

“
Yeah. I hear you have some
information to share with me.”

Riley glanced around uneasily at my
friends, who were now surrounding the bar stool he was sitting on.
Apparently he hadn’t counted on an entourage accompanying me to
this meeting. An older gentleman stood behind the bar wiping pint
glasses with a dirty dishrag. The man’s eyes were glued to our
group.

“
I do. Um, would you and
your mates care for something to eat or drink?”

“
No,” Erik said shortly.
“We’d care to get down to business.”

“
Right, um, if it’s alright
with you, I’m just going to flip the ‘Closed’ sign on.” Riley
gestured to the doorway we’d just come through. “England’s not
quite the same as America, it’d be best for us to have some
privacy.”

The setting didn’t feel like a trap to
me, but I glanced at Erik to get his read on the situation. He
nodded curtly at Riley, who hopped off his barstool and scurried
over to the door.

The rest of us moved towards a
high-top in the back corner next to the bar. After grabbing chairs
from nearby tables, the nine of us were seated and ready to begin
the interrogation. Strategically, I’d placed myself directly across
from Riley so that I would in the best position to ascertain the
truth. While eye contact was not necessary for my powers to be
effective, it was a great way to spot a lie without delving into
his mind. Erik was seated on one side of Riley, with Brand on the
other. From our limited intel on the tipster, there was no reason
to believe he was dangerous. Yet, caution was never a bad
thing.

I’d intended to skip the pleasantries
in favor of getting down to the real reason we were here; I only
wanted to find Kenly, I had no interest in making new friends.
Unfortunately, Brand had other ideas. He began by introducing each
of us, as if it really mattered that Riley was now on a first-name
basis with each member of our team. Admittedly, this small gesture
did put Riley at ease, the worry lines on his face smoothing
visibly.

“
How did you come to meet
Kenly?” Brand asked after the introductions were over.

“
Here, sort of,” Riley
answered, indicating the pub. “She began coming round not long
after arriving in London. My girlfriend’s family owns the Giraffe.
And her granddad, Tug,” he gestured to the man behind the bar, “he
realized what she was. You know, a Chrome. She acted a bit dodgy,
if you know what I mean? Trying to not call attention to herself.
Between those bits, and then hearing her accent, Tug reasoned she
was one of the Created the news kept going on about.”

“
Why didn’t you report her
to UNITED?” Brand asked, without missing a beat.

I glared at him. So not important
right now.

Riley glanced down into the mug of
coffee he was clenching like a lifeline, once again nervous under
all of our judging gazes.

“
You know what?” I
interjected. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter now.”

Someone, probably Brand, kicked me
under the table. I shoved back with my telekinesis, using just
enough force to send Brand tottering backwards. His chair tipped
back precariously on two legs before he was able to right himself.
I smiled smugly and returned my attention to Riley.

“
Don’t worry about that,” I
reassured him again. “What happened after you all realized Kenly
was Created?”

“
We invited her to come
live with us,” Riley said.

“
Who’s us?” Erik cut
in.

Seriously?
I thought to myself.
Who
was leading this interrogation?
Evidently,
it wasn’t me.

Riley glanced at Erik, shrinking back
slightly before seeming to think better of showing his fear. The
tipster straightened his spine.

“
Me, a girl called Honora,
and my best mate, James. We have a flat not far from here,” Riley
answered.

“
Why did you ask her to
live with you?” I asked before someone else could
interject.

“
A bird like that on her
own in the Slums? We were worried about her, wanted to protect
her,” Riley said, his tone earnest. “A girl like her, one with such
obvious power, fending for herself…it wouldn’t have been long
before she was targeted.”

Beside me, Penny opened her mouth to
ask a question, but I was starting to feel antsy. We needed to get
to the point. I wanted to know about the Poachers. I wanted to know
how to find Kenly.