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The route on I-70 toward Denver takes us through the Rocky Mountains. Probably the only uplifting thing I've seen since I woke up last night. The region is nothing but mountains, foothills, pines, and the winding stretch of the highway. The mountains themselves are enormous and snow-capped in the distance, but up close they look like sheer rock faces that seem to reach into the gray skies.
I don't need to ask anyone where we are anymore. We're west of the Rocky Mountains and it's taken us no more than seven hours to pass directly west into Colorado, which means we came from Utah, its neighboring state. My suspicion is confirmed when we pass the Utah state line sign. What we were doing in Utah is a mystery, but if I'm going to bother to ask questions, I'll just have to save them for more pressing issues.
As Marcus eases the van off the highway ramp, the kid in the blue-and-white letterman jacket, Jones, grumbles from the seat in front of me, "When are we stopping for lunch?"
"You've been pigging out on snacks for the last four hours," the girl next to him says.
"Fig bars and roasted almonds might be enough for a skinny girl like you, but I need real food." He leans his elbows on the edge of the seat in front of him. "Hey, Cap. Can we get something to eat? I don't feel like going to war on an empty stomach."
Marcus glances at him in the rearview mirror. "Since when have you ever gone to war? If I remember, you were almost shitting your pants when we were trapped with a Blank in that motel in Spokane."
I tune them out, processing this morsel of information. Spokane, Washington? We really have been around in the last eight months. I search my mind for anything about Spokane, hoping Willow didn't sweep all of my memories, and blow out a frustrated breath when that doesn't work. So much of my life is missing, and it feels a lot like I've lost a limb I never realized I needed so much. And based on what Davey said, I've lost a limb I never wanted to lose in the first place. If he was telling the truth—which is questionable, just like everything else in my life—did Willow act alone when she took my memories? Or is everyone in on it?
"We're stopping soon," Marcus finally says.
True to his word, we pull into a secluded parking lot near a small park shaded by trees. Pablo's van pulls in next to us, and I wait as everyone gets off our van before I start to do the same. "Wait here," Marcus says to me, holding up a hand to stop me.
I give him an incredulous look. My legs are cramped from sitting for that long and I'm itching for fresh air. "You're kidding."
His face tightens up more. "We need to work out a few things before you join us."
"Why?" I know he's doing this to make me feel excluded, but I'm not going to make it easy for him. I ignore the twinge in my gut, letting the hot waves of anger wash over it instead. His hostility took me off-guard at first, but I've had seven hours to think it over, to soak it in, to come up with a game plan.
Marcus's cold and cruel treatment is reminiscent of the way Sam always acted with me. Sam had nine whole years to hurt me, and I'm still feeling the effects of that pain. And some guilty part of me is grateful to be free of him. I refuse to trade one misery for another.
Marcus looks to Willow for an answer when she comes over to us, and she mumbles something about triggering my memories. "This has nothing to do with my memories," I say, crossing my arms as I brace myself for a fight. "Unless we've been here before, have we?"
"No, but—"
"So Denver has nothing to do with my past. I don't know what happened to me since the facility, but I'm not going to spend the rest of my life being afraid of my past." I look at Marcus deliberately. "I want to be involved in making decisions. I want to know what we're planning to do in Denver or anywhere else we go from now."
"That's not up to you," he says curtly.
My body is trembling with a heady dose of anger, humiliation, and hurt. "You've turned into an asshole and a bully since the last time I knew you, which is really sad because I actually believed you were so much more than this, but I'm not going to let you intimidate me any longer. I'll do whatever I have to do to pull my weight, and that means being part of this team. I'm not a cripple for you to drag about and treat as your verbal punching bag."
He stares at me. I hold his gaze with all of the willpower I have, which isn't saying much. It's taking everything in me not to run away, which sucks because I was starting to believe I'm braver than that. Someone coughs and I hear another snicker. Saige presses up against him, curling an arm around his and giving me a death glare.
Finally, Marcus looks away. "Lisa."
Relief drains the tension from my muscles as the petite girl shuffles over to him, looking deathly terrified. "Y-yes?"
"We're about a mile and a half from where the incident took place. Most of the Blanks have been taken care of, but some of them have gone into hiding, so the police might've blocked off the roads into the neighborhood. Find out what you can and meet us back here at—" he glances at his wristwatch—"five o'clock."
"What about lunch?" I say. She must be as hungry as we are.
Rachelle smiles. "Don't worry. Lisa's gotten pretty good at fending for herself. She can swipe a tray full of food out of a packed cafeteria."
"The perks of being a wallflower," Pablo says snidely, which makes Lisa blush so hard she starts to become translucent.
Marcus ignores all of us. He ducks his head down a little to meet Lisa's gaze. "You know how much is on the line, don't you? If you screw up, at best you'll lead the police back to us and at worst, the Blanks will kill you. Keep that in mind."
She nods and then walks off hurriedly, her hands buried in the pockets of her sweatshirt. Marcus's harsh words leave me feeling uneasy, but I know why he said what he did. Lisa's ability used to work best when she became anxious, and that doesn't seem to have changed, based on her embarrassed reaction to Pablo's remark. This was like reverse pep-talk, designed to keep her fear and discomfort sharp. Kind of genius, if not plain mean.
"Janie," Marcus says. "Why don't you take Willow and Saige and get us lunch?"
She makes a face. "Willow is the only company I need."
"Better safe than sorry. Take her with you." He looks at his pouting girlfriend and nods at her. "It's a good chance for you to practice your ability."
"I want to go, too," I say, excited by the prospect of seeing their powers at work.
Janie lifts her eyebrows and then looks at Marcus, who is busying himself with ransacking his backpack. He's not saying no, which I take as a good sign. Unfortunately, Jones takes that as a sign to push his luck, too. He points at me. "If she gets to go, I'm going, too. I'm tired of eating in the woods or inside cramped vans."
"Why don't we all go in that case?" Marcus mutters sarcastically.
"Great idea!" Janie exclaims, clapping her hands once. "A group field trip. We haven't had one of those in forever."
As more people chime in, Willow glowers at the group. "What about the risk of Blanks?"
"There are Blanks on the loose already," Janie retorts. "Besides it's not like Blanks pop up wherever we go."
"It's called a risk for a reason."
Janie stares her down. "And it's called life for a reason. You're meant to live it. I haven't slept in a soft bed or had a nice bath in forever. The least we could do is have a decent meal for once. Am I right, guys?"
The chorus of agreements outnumber the naysayers. Janie grins and high-fives Jones. Willow looks like she's about to have a nervous breakdown. "Marcus?"
"It's their funeral," he says with a careless shrug, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle. I have a feeling he wants to eat a decent meal as much as the rest of us.
She turns to me. "April, you wanted to be included in the decision-making. Please talk some sense into them."
Normally, I might've been more sympathetic to her point of view. I might've even agreed with her under the right circumstances. But there's nothing normal about this moment. "I would if I had any idea what we're dealing with. But I don't, do I?"
The accusation in my voice is clear. She flinches and looks away.
Janie picks out a posh restaurant in a slightly isolated plaza. Her reasoning is, "If we're breaking the rules, we might as well treat ourselves."
Once the vans are parked and we've disembarked, Janie perches her sunglasses high on her head. "Willow and I will go in first and get the place ready. There's too many of us right now. Their suspicion if we all walk in together will make it harder for me to mesmerize them. Come with us, April. Marcus, your girlfriend can also along but please keep her out of our way."
"I can help, you know," Saige snaps, her cheeks going pink.
Willow sighs as we start toward the building. "Stop upsetting her, Janie. You know it makes it harder for her to focus on her power."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because she's a spoiled princess who gets off on people kissing her ass."
Saige narrows her eyes. "First of all, gross imagery. And secondly, I don't need anyone to do anything for me. I just . . . don't do well with criticism."
"Her power comes from her need to cover up her flaws," Willow continues to me. "Hence her ability to manipulate people's visual perception of reality."
"I don't cover up my flaws," Saige snaps. "That's not how my ability works."
"You're covering up your flaws right now by telling us you don't do that," Janie points out.
Willow puts a hand on the handle of the double glass doors leading into the restaurant and turns to give Janie a look. "Just one day. One single day without you baiting and antagonizing her. That's all I'm asking for."
"She makes it so easy though," Janie moans.
I look back at the others before we walk inside the restaurant. They're spread out in groups across the plaza, probably so no one gets suspicious about seeing almost a dozen teenagers loitering in one place. Or maybe this is an exit strategy in case we get ambushed. Some of us might make it out alive this way. Marcus is wearing a faded blue Adidas ball cap over his dark hair. It's pulled low, almost covering his face, but I can see his eyes. They're squinted, and I can't tell if he's glaring or narrowing them in thought.
The restaurant's low lighting and black and modern décor makes the place feel more like a cave than anything. A really nice-looking cave. Waiters in black scuttle around with trays of food. Others are taking orders at round tables covered by white silk tablecloths. Subtle jazz music plays from speakers in the ceiling. There are about two dozen people in this restaurant, and I wonder if it was a smart thing for us to come here.
Willow and Janie don't bother with waiting to be seated. They walk directly toward the bar. A waiter intercepts them before they get there. "Um, excuse me, would you like a table?" he says, clearly frazzled by the fact that we're breaking restaurant protocol.
Janie gives him a brilliant smile. "Could you be a dear and get the whole staff for us? Including the maître d or the manager or whatever you fancy people like to call it."
He looks around at us, his eyes moving over our casual clothes and our youthful faces. "I'm not sure if—"
She leans toward him, and I swear her amber eyes start glowing. "Willow?"
"Bring the whole staff out here. Even the busboys," Willow tells him, her voice low and lulling. The skin on the back of my neck stands on edge at her tone. It's a command wrapped in honey, so sweet you don't notice the poison it carries until you've drowned yourself in it.
This is what she did to me, I realize. This is how she was able to get in my head. Twice. But she can do more than take memories. She's compelling this person. Getting him to do what she wants. It's been eight months. Has her power evolved, just like Marcus's?
The waiter gives a barely perceptible nod and walks down a corridor at the back, his movements deliberate in a way that reminds me of Blanks. Without waiting for his return, Janie walks to the center of the restaurant and holds up her arms. Some people glance at her annoyedly, not appreciating the disruption during their lunch hour.
And then it happens again, and I know exactly at what moment because it affects me, too. It's like my body is suddenly made of metal shavings and Janie is a giant magnet drawing me in. She's everywhere at once, her presence so large it fills up the restaurant. There's no escaping her. My heartbeat drops sharply, close to flatlining. I'm flying, floating, dreaming.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Willow begins, "please enjoy your meals and leave as planned once you're finished. The second you walk out of those doors, you will forget that anything unusual happened in this restaurant. You sat down, you had your food delivered to you, and you left without any disruption. And don't forget to tip well."
A note of amusement enters her voice when she turns her head to us. "Janie, maybe you should release April before she starts to eat a table leg or something."
Janie looks at me and snickers. "Just giving her a front-row seat to the show."
The spell shatters, and I jerk back in surprise. Thankfully the rest of the restaurant's occupants are still under. It's too quiet in here, which must be what makes the manager rush out to confront us. He's a stout and bearded man impeccably dressed in a gray suit. He barely manages to open his mouth before Janie turns to him.
"Where's your staff?" Willow asks.
He doesn't take his eyes off Janie. "They're working."
Saige rolls her eyes, "Tell them to come here, idiot."
"It doesn't work when you do it," Janie tells her.
She sticks her tongue out.
My stomach growls as we wait for the rest of the staff. I feel guilty, but it's hard to think about that when the smell of incredible food is wafting around us and I'm surrounded by—compelled, noiseless—people digging heartily into their expensive meals. This is definitely unethical, but as long as no one gets hurt, what is the harm in it?
"We are paying for our meals, right?" I ask to assuage the part of me that feels like a thief.
"Generously," Willow replies.
Ten minutes later, the staff is on board with our plan, like it or not, and the rest of our companions have joined us. We ask one of the busboys to stand guard outside the front doors and turn new customers away. The manager gets us two tables in a corner, and three of his waiters take our orders. Jones and some of the others go all out: lobster and meals with fancy-sounding French names. I go for a trout dish with rice and vegetables, which turns out to be twenty-something dollars. Sam would kill me if he knew I was wasting so much money on a single dish.
I sit with Willow, Janie, and Adam. Adam, I've noticed, spends less time with Marcus and more with Janie. The moment I arrive at this realization, other things become clearer. The way his eyes linger on her mouth as she eats or talks, the redness in his cheeks when she teases him. Unrequited love, it seems, since Janie gives no indication that she feels the same way.
I wonder if this was something I picked up on Before.
And Willow. I watch her, too, remembering Davey's assertion. Unable to keep it in any longer, I wait until there's a break in the conversation before addressing her. "You've become a lot better at your ability."
She looks at me, and the slightest stiffness enters her shoulders underneath her beige coat. "I've been practicing."
"Yeah, I'm living proof of that," I say wryly.
Willow focuses on lifting a spoonful of her chicken broth to her mouth. She blows on it gently. "I don't use my power on my friends unless I have to."
"A friend? Is that what I am to you?"
Next to us, both Janie and Adam are focused on their food like it's the most fascinating thing they've ever had. Janie tries to snag a piece of Adam's steak, but he pulls his plate out of range and ignores her when she complains. I can tell they're both listening.
"Of course," Willow answers, lifting her eyes to mine.
"A friend doesn't compel someone who isn't willing."
Janie gives up the pretense of not listening to us when her head whips in our direction. "What's she talking about?"
"You didn't know?" I cut my trout into neat pieces, pretending at order when I want to heave my plate against the wood paneled wall. "Willow took my memories by force. I didn't agree to it, unlike what you guys told me last night."
"How do you know that? Are you starting to remember?"
I shake my head. "Davey told me."
"And you believe him?" Janie asks, frowning.
Willow lays a hand on her forearm. She inhales deeply. "It's true."
"What? Are you kidding me?" Janie throws down fork with a clatter, drawing attention from the others. Marcus looks up sharply and then relaxes as though he expects Janie's usual antics. "I agreed to help you hypnotize her because you told me it was what she wanted."
"Why didn't you ask me?" I say.
"Hard to talk to a Blank," Adam supplies, and I hold back a flinch at the thought of myself as one of those things, subservient to something beyond my comprehension.
Willow sweeps a hand in my direction in agitation. "Look at her now and tell me I made the wrong choice. April, you were blanking practically every day. You were losing your sanity, which made you completely unfit to make any good judgment calls. You kept refusing to accept my help because—"
She cuts off abruptly, as though she forgot herself. "Why did I refuse?" I ask softly. Does this have anything to do with what Davey said about my personal mission?
"I've said too much."
Arghh!
I would flip the whole table if I could. Instead I slump back in my seat and listen to Janie and Willow go at it in some strange role reversal where Janie is suddenly the good angel and Willow is the devil. My eyes seek Marcus at the other table and find him already watching me.
He's been like this for the past half an hour, his eyes constantly trained on me, like I'm something he's never seen before—and not in a good way, judging by his dark brooding expression. Something changed since I stood up for myself at the park before. Is that it? Have I turned into such a pushover the last few months that he couldn't help but disdain me?
I don't know what it is, but his attention is as unnerving as the lack of it.
"I'm sorry," Willow says, and she sounds so bad that I believe what she said about us being friends.
"If you really are sorry, give me back my memories."
"I can't do that."
I glare at her. "Why not?"
She glances around before lifting her glass to her mouth. "Not everyone here is on your side, April. Just remember that."
I start to ask her to explain that enigmatic comment, but the words catch in my throat. Something is happening. The low lighting in the restaurant feels like it's getting dimmer, darkening around the corners of my vision. And then the whole room seems to pull back in front of me, the people closest to me suddenly ten feet away.
I grip the edge of the table, breathing harder.
"April?" The voice is far away, underwater. I don't know who's speaking to me.
A dark figure appears next to me. I scream and jerk out of my seat when his shadowy hand reaches for my throat. I fall and scramble back, pressing up against the wall next to the bathrooms. My vision quickly clears, and I look around at the surprised faces of my peers.
"Uh, what the hell?" Pablo asks.
He's gone. The shadow. Where did he go?
"Are you okay?" Willow asks, coming to my side.
My heart refuses to climb down from my throat. "I—I don't know."
"What happened?"
I'm losing my mind. My chest heaves as I search for an answer that doesn't paint me as a nut-job, that doesn't justify the hatred of those who want me gone, and that's when I spot Saige in the midst of my audience. She looks like she's trying hard not to burst out laughing.
I jump up and lean on the table, across from her. "You think this is funny?"
"Excuse me?"
"You make people see things—that's what you did to me. How convenient that this is happening to me right when everyone is already questioning my sanity?"
"What did you see?" Willow asks.
"A shadowy figure. It—it tried to grab me." I glare at her and growl, "You had no right to do that. You're seriously going to give someone a heart attack if you scare them like that."
"You're psycho," she cries out before turning to Marcus. "Can you believe this? She's making up lies about me because she and Janie don't like me."
"Hey, don't drag me into this," Janie says from her spot at the table.
Marcus stands up suddenly. "That's enough! Pack it up, kids. We're leaving."
The others groan and give me dirty looks. Jones holds up his food and lets out an aggrieved sob. "But—but lobster, man!"
"Pablo, let's go. If the rest of you aren't in the vans in five minutes, we're leaving without you."
Marcus leaves with Saige in tow, without a single look my way. Willow tosses down five hundred dollars on the table. I listen to the grumbling as people gather their belongings and ask Willow to request carry-out boxes for the leftovers. I leave my food behind, my stomach so tight I don't think I'll ever have an appetite again.
Besides Willow, no one reacted to what Saige did to me with concern, not even Janie, who gave me no more than a reassuring tap on the shoulder before walking out. It's like . . . they expect the worst from me. Like they're used to it. And judging by the way everyone is so inconvenienced about the disrupted lunch, it's clear they consider me to be nothing more than a burden.
Willow was right.
These people are not on my side.