The Circle- Taken Page 4

  “Alexia.” She shuts the door then steps carefully over the broken glass. “Welcome to the Circle.”

  FIVE

  “Who are you?” I step as far back from her as I can in the cramped room. I glance at then dismiss her outstretched hand. In a position of equal distance from both of them, I stand ready. The room shrinks with the three of us in it. “What do you want from me?”

  “My name is Serafina.” She drops her hand, unfazed by my snub. “It’s good you two have met.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that exactly,” Ryan murmurs. He ignores the fury-filled glance I direct toward him. “Alexia has an interesting way of saying hello.”

  With barely a flick of his finger, he wipes the blood off his arm then smears it on his pants. In its wake, he leaves a streak of red lightning across his upper thigh. With clenched fists, I will myself to stay calm in the face of his dismissiveness.

  “Where did you learn to fight?” Serafina scans the room. Her gaze jumps from the overturned chair to the broken glass. “The government’s file on you makes no mention of it.”

  “Kyle?” I ignore her question to ask my own. Regret and grief accompany my question. “Is he dead?” Maybe it is a form of self-punishment, but I need to hear her tell me that he paid with his life because of me, because of who I am and what I did.

  “Kyle?” Serafina glances at Ryan, who shrugs in response. “I don’t know a Kyle.”

  “He didn’t die?” I beg, though I don’t know whether to believe her. “Please. Just tell me.”

  Serafina stares at me. Then her face changes with understanding. “He failed the test.” She has a light accent I try and fail to place. “Like you.”

  In two steps she’s standing in front of me. Before I can react, she grips my bare hand in hers. Pain slams into me. I struggle to wrench my hand back, but Serafina tightens her hold. The pain is debilitating. I labor to hold back the scream as it strengthens, rendering me unable to move.

  “Let me go.” I barely get the words out as I strain for oxygen.

  “What do you see?” Serafina asks.

  Shock breaks through the pain. I have kept my secret for years, afraid to tell anyone. But Serafina asks the question casually, as if my ability is common. Confused, I try to make sense of it, but Serafina increases the pressure. I rear back in agony. Desperate, I kick my leg out, but Serafina sidesteps the assault. Instead, she grabs my other hand and presses her thumb down on my pulse. I stumble back until I hit the wall. Next to me, I can feel Ryan tense.

  “Please.” I rip the words out from the back of my throat. A red haze encircles me, sapping my strength. Exhausted, it takes all my effort to stay upright.

  “Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”

  All I see is blackness. In the distance, like a dream of shadows, I can hear muted voices but no words. As the pain continues to rise in a crescendo, I struggle to control it. Every part of my body aches. But if I admit what happens to me, then my secret is out. I grind my teeth, refusing to give her what she wants.

  “Why are you fighting me so hard?” Serafina’s voice is harsh and lacks any sympathy. “You have two choices. Tell me what you see, or I keep going until you fall unconscious. Then we start again tomorrow.”

  She pushes down harder over my racing pulse. Exhausted, I drop my head back. It hits the wall, but I barely feel the pain in comparison. Ryan’s stare bores into me. When my gaze strays to him, his eyes are questioning. Defeat coils around me.

  “It’s black,” I start. On my words, Serafina releases some of the pressure. I exhale through clenched lips. “Too dark for me to see anything. The pain…” I pause to push away the gathering tears. “It’s more than I’ve ever felt. Your mind is empty.”

  Serafina drops my hands. I curl into the wall as I struggle to regain my senses. Every inch of my body burns as my brain scrambles to understand what just happened. The skin still stings where Serafina pushed down. Absently I start to rub it. I failed. They will kill me now. The small reprieve I felt is now gone. Any hope of finding my mother slips further away.

  “What just happened…” Serafina lowers her lids until her eyes are hooded. With casual steps, she corrects the chair and takes a seat. “That is why you are here, and not your friend Kyle—because of your ability to read.”

  My head jerks toward her, unsure I’ve heard correctly. “Read?” I repeat the word slowly, testing it.

  In the winters, a lake near the orphanage freezes over. All the kids in the town love to slide on it and play. One year the ice cracked, and one of the young kids fell through. They got him out just before he froze to death. Since then everyone walks on it carefully, unsure. Now I feel like I’m on the ice — watching and waiting for the fall.

  “How do you know about it?” I ask.

  Serafina smiles, barely a ghost of a reaction. I swear there is compassion in it, but like before, it disappears before I can be sure.

  “The Circle is a group of highly trained readers and agents. There are hundreds of people like you who live and work here.”

  Stunned, I gape at her. If not for the matter-of-fact way she said it, I would not believe her.

  “I don’t understand.” I try but fail to make sense of what she is saying. “How can there be others like me?” My glance jumps from Serafina to Ryan. I am more vulnerable than I can remember feeling. He focuses on me, watching my every reaction. “How am I like this?”

  “You don’t know?” Serafina asks.

  “No.”

  “What happened to you before you came to the orphanage?”

  I struggle with how much to share. But desperation outweighs my instinct to keep up my shield of protection. “Five years ago they found me on a beach, unconscious.” When I woke up on the shore, I was alone and afraid. Seaweed coated my hair, and my clothes were tattered and torn from the salt water. The sun burned my body. “I couldn’t remember who I was or where I came from.”

  “Your parents?” Ryan asks.

  The ache that always comes at their mention rises to the surface. I try and fail to bury it. “No idea.”

  Like a delivery package, I was dropped off at the orphanage by a driver. Every night after that, I would lie awake, desperately trying to remember something. I would have given anything for a face, a name, or a memory that would reveal who I am or where I came from.

  “The government thought they were lost in the ocean.” My voice catches on the explanation.

  “Do you believe them?” Serafina asks.

  I drop my eyelids, concealing my reaction. It is the same question I have asked myself over the years. Is my search a waste of time? “They haven’t come for me.”

  But my mind refutes the explanation. In the distant parts of my consciousness, a woman’s voice strains through the ocean’s waves. Her arms cradle me against the water. Find me. Her words assure me she is out there. I grip the thought like a lifeline — the only one I have.

  Serafina falls silent. I raise my eyes and our gazes lock. Serafina’s face tightens with an emotion I am unable to decipher. She dips her head once in acceptance of my answer.

  “Who taught you to fight?” she asks instead.

  Snippets of images filter out from the locked vault inside my mind. Voices I don’t recognize, order me to be stronger, to fight harder. As if they are speaking to me through a thick wall, I hear a muffled command to keep my secret. When I search for a face or a name, they are blurry and blank. My scar begins to throb, the ache unexplained.

  “I learned in the orphanage. I was the oldest there.” Serafina’s mouth thins at my explanation, but I continue, a master at hiding the truth. “I had to protect the others.”

  “I see.” Serafina’s clipped response gives nothing away. “I’m sure they appreciated your skills.”

  Uncomfortable with the exchange, I drop my gaze to the ground. “When can I go home?” I plead.
“Now that you know that truth, I’m free to go?”

  “For now, the Circle is your home.”

  The knots in my stomach tighten. Serafina’s answer is definite, without room for compromise. Desperate to be free, to keep searching for my past, I recalibrate. “There’s someone back at the orphanage. She’ll be worried. Can I go to say goodbye? She won’t tell anyone about here.” From there, I will plan my escape route.

  “Here,” Serafina says, “doesn’t exist. No one knows about us.”

  Confused, I start to ask what she means when Ryan adds, “Your friend thinks you’re dead.”

  Bile rushes from the pit of my stomach and settles on my tongue. My gaze flies from the bars on the window to the locked door. Both mock my desperate need for freedom.

  “Anyone else we need to worry about?” Serafina asks.

  “No.” I don’t confide that I am all alone. That there is no one else who cares what happens to me. “No one.” I can feel Ryan’s gaze searching mine in question, but I avoid answering. “Please let me go.” With nothing left, I beg. Remembering the test interrogations — the ones that questioned my affinity to harm others — I try to reassure her. “I would never hurt anyone.”

  “That’s not an option.” Serafina barely reacts to my plea.

  Her calm dismissal leaves me reeling. “What do you want from me?”

  “Not us,” Serafina corrects. “The government.” Seeing my confusion, Serafina explains, “You’re a reader. They expect you to stay here.”

  “Why would the government care about me?”

  “Because they made you into what you are.”

  SIX

  A shiver courses over me as if a blast of cold air hit me. I repeat Serafina’s statement silently, testing its truth, but fail to make sense of it. For all the years I searched for an answer, I never imagined this one.

  “How?”

  Serafina pauses at my response. “Before the war, there was a program designed by the government.” She waits for my reaction but continues when I refuse to give her one. “They installed receivers into the cortex of the brains of a group of preselected Circle members.”

  “A receiver?” I repeat, sure I have heard wrong. “Why?”

  “To enhance their ability to read others,” she says quietly. “Their pasts and futures.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” I lay a hand over my scar, trying to ease the sudden burn. “I was born after the war.”

  “Some of the descendants of the original group have shown enhanced abilities.” Her voice is monotone, as if this is an everyday conversation. “The genetic makeup of the original group was changed. It passed on to future generations.” She considers me. “Your vision of the young girl shows your skills are much stronger, enhanced, which leads us to believe that you are a descendant.”

  Her knowing what happened at the test pales in comparison to the thought that she may know who my parents are. Unbidden excitement bubbles inside me. After all these years, have I finally found them?

  “My parents? You know who they are?” I plead.

  Another flicker of sympathy on her face, but again it is gone before I can be sure.

  “The government ran your blood when they found you. They were not able to match your DNA, nor is there registration of your birth in our records or the government’s. Your parents, whoever they are, went to great lengths to make sure no one knew about you.” Serafina tilts her chin down and frowns. “If it weren’t for your vision, you would have kept your secret hidden.”

  Disappointment courses through me, faster than the blood in my veins. Hope handed out, then taken away. I think of the little girl I saw. She is the reason I am here. Even now, she feels more real to me than the mirage she was.

  “I couldn’t read you.” With nothing to lose, I try again for my freedom. “Maybe I’m not a descendant of your people.”

  “You couldn’t read me because I’m a reader,” Serafina explains. “Readers are not able to see into the minds of other readers.”

  I repeat the information to myself, trying to understand the intricacies of my ability.

  “Why am I locked in then? If you know what I can do, why keep me a prisoner?”

  “You’re locked in because I don’t know who you are, but I’m going to find out. Until then make yourself comfortable.”

  Her decision is definite, without room for compromise. Scared, I try to reason with her. “I’m not a threat to anyone. All I’ve ever wanted…” I pause, afraid of revealing too much.

  Serafina narrows her gaze. “All you’ve ever wanted?” she prompts.

  “Nothing.” I start to look away when I feel Ryan’s stare. When I meet it, he veils his thoughts. “It doesn’t matter.” I fidget with my shirt as I search for the right thing to say. “What if you don’t find out who I am? Then what happens?”

  “Two options. One, I give you back to the government.”

  The speed at which Ryan’s gaze shifts from me to Serafina makes my gut churn. It was clearly not the answer he was expecting.

  “What would they do to me?” I ask.

  “You would survive a day, maybe two,” Serafina answers.

  The answer settles inside me, like dirt over a fresh grave. “What is the other option?”

  “You stay here and train for the Evaluation.”

  I steal a glance at Ryan, trying to read his reaction to that option. This time his face remains neutral, void of any emotion. It makes me wonder whether they’ve already discussed it or whether it is the least threatening option.

  “The Evaluation?” I ask.

  Serafina steps closer. “It determines whether you have the skills to survive as a member of the Circle.”

  “So I go through the Evaluation, and I’m one of you?” It sounds too easy. “How do I pass?”

  “You don’t die.” She pauses then says, “Consider yourself my personal guest until then.”

  “And Ryan my jailer?” I ask, still trying to process her answer. Ryan’s eyes narrow, and immediately I realize and regret my mistake.

  “Your trainer,” Serafina corrects smoothly. “Ryan is the lead agent-in-training and your best chance of survival.” Oblivious to the tension vibrating between Ryan and me, Serafina opens the door. “Be smart, Alexia. Take advantage of your opportunity.” She looks me over. “Or don’t. All I need is one reason to hand you back to the government.”

  She shuts the door behind her, leaving me to wonder what lies beyond it. I reach for the knob when I feel Ryan behind me. Wary, I turn to face him.

  “I never told you my name,” Ryan says.

  His voice is measured, in perfect control of his emotions. My guard goes up, and my instincts hum to tread carefully.

  “Serafina must have mentioned it.” I lean back casually against the door. Slowly, hoping Ryan doesn’t notice, I circle the doorknob.

  “She didn’t.”

  Ryan steps in close, then, before I can move, cages me in with an arm on either side of me. I force my breath to remain even as I keep a straight face, refusing to react to his closeness.

  “If you ever read me again, I’ll kill you myself. Understand?”

  He reaches behind me and covers my hand on the doorknob. As the pain starts, I push against him, but he refuses to let go.

  “Stop trying to escape. There’s no place for you to go.” He pulls open the door, knocking me from my place. Without an apology, he walks out. Seconds later, the lock clicks shut.

  I hit the door with my foot and then yank on the knob, but it’s no use. I search fruitlessly for another way out, but my reality encases me — I am trapped. Angry and unsure, I slide down, my back against the door. Seated on the floor, I lift the hem of my shirt above the scar. With my pinky finger, I lightly trace the raised skin.

  I let my shirt fall back in place, then listen through the d
oor for any sound. Silence. I drop my head onto my upturned knees. For as long as I can remember, I have searched in the dark for who I am. Now I am trapped in a place with others like me. But the answers about my past, about my mother, remain out of reach with no clear path to find them.

  I run through all the options in my head. If I insist on going back, the government kills me. If I stay here, I have to pass the Evaluation. Or, a voice asserts, I can try and escape. Alone and unsure of the answer, I sit in the darkness until all that is left to hear is the sound of my breathing.

  SEVEN

  SERAFINA

  Serafina composes herself before entering the boardroom and taking her seat at the head of the conference table. She scans the room and quickly counts to confirm all of the Council members are present. They watch her, quieter than usual. Knowing they hold her fate in their hands, she waits for them to speak.

  “You took a grave chance bringing Alexia here.” Harrison, the head of the agents, barely spares Serafina a glance. He takes his seat opposite her across the expanse of wood. With one finger tap, Harrison shuts off his earpiece to guarantee them privacy. Tall and broad-shouldered, he overwhelms the room. “I assume you know what you’re doing?”

  “My job.” She keeps her calm, refusing to rise to his bait. “The government would have killed her.”

  “And that’s your concern because…?” Harrison demands.

  “Because if she’s one of ours…”

  “She could be one of theirs.” Kenji, an elite reader, commands respect both on and off the shores of the Circle. His braided hair adorned with colorful beads falls to his shoulders. “One of the Resistance.”

  “She has no memory of who she is,” Serafina says carefully.

  As a child, Serafina used to sit in the back of the room and watch her father lead the Council. His self-assured style and confidence commanded the assent of everyone in attendance. Now, Serafina calls on those lessons as she searches for how to sway them to her thinking.