Neverseen Page 7

  Why are there teenagers living near Wildwood?

  Most likely they’ve been banished. But they were clearly not a threat to the gnomes. So you can let go of your conspiracy theories for the moment. Give us time to investigate properly.

  “We know you two are having a secret conversation,” Keefe interrupted. “Care to share with the rest of us?”

  “He was just clarifying something,” Sophie said.

  “Was it about Gethen?” Keefe asked. “You promised to tell us about the interrogations.”

  “There isn’t much to tell,” Mr. Forkle said. “Each time I’ve tried to probe his mind, he was . . . unresponsive.”

  “So do a memory break,” Keefe pressed.

  “You misunderstand what I mean by ‘unresponsive.’ His head currently appears to be empty. There are no thought processes. No dreams. No memories of any kind. I’ve never seen a defense like it, and I’ve yet to figure out how to counter it.”

  “Do you think it’d help if I tried to heal him?” Sophie asked.

  “That would be far too dangerous,” Granite said. “It’s possible his goal is to lure you into his mind and trap you there. Isn’t that what Fintan tried to do during his healing?”

  Sophie winced at the memory. If Fitz hadn’t dragged her back to consciousness, Fintan would’ve burned her alive without her even realizing.

  “But you’re taking the same risk when you search his mind, aren’t you?” she asked Mr. Forkle.

  “I am far less valuable than you—as are we all.”

  “He’s right,” Squall agreed. “And I’m sorry, but I must get back or someone will notice I’m missing.” She removed a frosted purple-black crystal from her crackly cloak and leaped away in a flurry of snow.

  “Now, what was I saying?” Mr. Forkle asked, watching the snowflakes swirl.

  “You were making excuses for why we can’t find the Neverseen,” Keefe told him. “Pretty lame ones, if you ask me.”

  “So you feel it’s lame to keep Sophie safe?” Granite asked.

  “No—but it’s lame to not use me,” Keefe argued. “We know some of the Neverseen are in Ravagog. Give me a green crystal and I’ll hunt them down.”

  “That is the most supremely absurd idea I’ve ever heard,” Mr. Forkle told him.

  Sophie had to agree. King Dimitar had taken out her humongous goblin bodyguard with a single punch from his apelike fist. And the ogre who’d grabbed her during the attack on Mount Everest had literally dragged her through ice and stone.

  “If they catch you, they’ll kill you,” she whispered.

  “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing breaking into places is my specialty,” Keefe told her.

  “This isn’t sneaking into the principal’s office,” Fitz said.

  “I can handle it,” Keefe insisted. “And now is the time to make our move. The Neverseen are scrambling. We caught Gethen. Brant’s all charred and burned. And my mom”—he cringed at the word—“isn’t as tough as she’s pretending to be. She won’t last long with the ogres. She needs gourmet dinners and fancy clothes—and she’s horrible with bad smells.”

  “That may be,” Mr. Forkle said, “but you’re forgetting that trespassing on ogre land violates our treaty. We cannot spark a war.”

  “Haven’t they already voided the treaty by helping the Neverseen?” Fitz asked.

  “King Dimitar is claiming that was done by a band of ogre rebels,” Blur explained. “If they’re acting without his permission, the Council can’t hold him responsible.”

  “Does the Council honestly believe him?” Sophie asked.

  “Besides, aren’t we rebels too?” Dex added. “If they caught Keefe, wouldn’t the Council be able to give the same excuse?”

  “Why is everyone assuming I’m going to get caught?” Keefe asked. “You guys are clearly forgetting how awesome I am!”

  “And yet you wore an ogre homing device for weeks with no inkling of its existence,” Mr. Forkle reminded him. “I’m not saying that to fault you. Simply to help you realize what we’re up against. The ogres have defenses far beyond our knowledge and experience. And as for your thoughts, Mr. Dizznee, you saw how King Dimitar reacted when Sophie attempted to read his mind. How do you think he’d react to someone invading his city?”

  Sophie cringed at the reminder of how serious the consequences of that single act had been. She still hadn’t shaken her doubts that it was related to the Wildwood plague.

  “We cannot be hasty with our efforts,” Granite told them. “We must be strategic.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should waste time, either,” Keefe argued.

  “Do not fool yourself into believing you are the only one feeling impatient,” Mr. Forkle warned him. “Tell me, do you know the names of the dwarves we lost on Mount Everest? They were Ermete, Irja, and Kun—and Yegor is still in critical condition. They were dear friends and we are anxious to avenge them. But that is not an excuse to take foolhardy actions.”

  “I know you’ve all spent months solving clues on your own and disobeying adults,” Granite added. “But you must remember we were the ones guiding you through that.”

  “We figured out a few things on our own,” Fitz argued.

  “Indeed, you did,” Granite agreed. “Which is why we’re glad to work with you. But we must be a team.”

  “That’d be easier to believe if you guys weren’t keeping so many secrets,” Sophie reminded them.

  “The only secrets we keep are ours,” Mr. Forkle said.

  “What about the memories you stole from my head?” Sophie had two blank spots in her mind. One from when she was nine and had an allergic reaction to limbium—an elvin substance Mr. Forkle must’ve given her for some reason. The other was from when she was five, and Mr. Forkle triggered her telepathy. She could vaguely recall seeing a boy in elvin clothes disappear—but she couldn’t remember who he was.

  “Those memories were mine,” she said. “And you took them and expect me to pretend it’s not a big deal.”

  Mr. Forkle let out another long sigh and turned to telepathically debate with the Collective. As the silence stretched on, Sophie braced for a long “You kids” lecture.

  But when Mr. Forkle finally spoke, he said, “Very well. In the interest of earning your trust, would you like your memory back?”

  TEN

  SOPHIE HAD TO let the sentence slosh around in her mind before the words could soak in. Once they did, something still felt wrong.

  “You mean memories, right?” she asked. “You stole two.”

  “We are only offering one—the memory I know you desire the most.”

  “The Boy Who Disappeared?” Sophie asked, and the Collective nodded.

  Sophie turned to her friends, knowing she wouldn’t get a better offer. When she had their approval, she told the Collective, “Okay.”

  “All right, then,” Mr. Forkle said, reaching for her temples.

  Sophie flinched back. “Wait—you’re doing it now? Since when is anything with you guys ever that easy?”

  She glanced at her right hand, where a small star-shaped scar commemorated the time Mr. Forkle reset her abilities. He’d had to give her an entire ounce of limbium and then inject her with a modified human remedy to stop the allergic reaction from killing her.

  Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “Returning memories is a simple process—though you should prepare yourself for the fact that this memory was taken to spare you additional worry.”

  “I still want it back. Just like I want the other memory.” She turned to the Collective, trying to find their eyes amid their crazy disguises. “If you won’t return it now, I think I deserve a guarantee that you’ll give it back to me eventually.”

  “You deserve that and more,” Granite said. “So we can agree to your term—as long as you understand that we will choose when to return the other memory.”

  Sophie agreed, and Mr. Forkle turned to Fitz. “I’d like to have you assist.”

  “Why him?” De
x asked. “If you need another Telepath, why not use Granite?”

  “Because Miss Foster trusts Mr. Vacker,” Mr. Forkle said. “And the two of them have an extremely unique connection. In fact, we’re hoping to train them as Cognates.”

  “REALLY?” Fitz asked, his eyes sparkling.

  “What’s a Cognate?” Sophie asked.

  “An incredibly rare telepathic relationship,” Granite explained. “One very few Telepaths are able to achieve. I know I’ve never found anyone I could partner with.”

  “Neither have I,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “Cognates combine their power through a deep personal connection. It’s too early to know if you’re truly compatible, but it’s worth exploring—especially given the potential we’ve witnessed. On your own, Miss Foster, you came far closer to reading an ogre’s mind than any have before. Perhaps with the combined strength of a Cognate you would find true success—though I’m definitely not suggesting you attempt to probe an ogre’s mind again. I’m simply illustrating the potential. Your telepathy has proven far superior to even my most optimistic calculations. If you and Mr. Vacker achieve Cognatedom, it would reach another level entirely.”

  “You want to try it, right?” Fitz asked as Sophie resisted tugging on her eyelashes.

  “Of course I do.”

  “Ha, nice try, Foster,” Keefe said. “I can feel your dread all the way over here.”

  “It’s not dread,” she argued. “It’s just a lot of pressure. I don’t want to let anyone down.”

  “You could never let me down.” Fitz said something else too, but it was drowned out by the plethora of gagging sounds coming from Dex and Keefe.

  “Don’t Cognates have to share all their secrets with each other?” Biana asked.

  Mr. Forkle nodded. “It’s how they reach the necessary level of trust.”

  Keefe smirked. “Okay, now I feel the dread.”

  “A perfectly normal reaction,” Granite told him. “Sophie has been alone with her secrets for a very long time. Sharing them so openly is a whole new concept—one, I might add, that I myself have never been comfortable with.”

  “Yeah,” Sophie agreed. “Plus . . . this could be super dangerous—”

  “Nope! We’re not doing the ‘I’m trying to protect you’ speech again,” Fitz interrupted. “You’re not allowed to worry about me anymore—and I don’t want to have to worry about you. That’s why I want to do this. A Cognate is a Telepath’s ultimate backup. I promise, I won’t be mad if it doesn’t work out. But isn’t it worth trying?”

  He looked so adorably excited, Sophie could feel her cheeks blushing.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Wonderful! So come over here, Mr. Vacker,” Mr. Forkle ordered. “I want your minds to be connected as I return Miss Foster’s memory.”

  Sophie’s mouth went desert dry as Fitz and Mr. Forkle reached for her temples.

  “Try to let your mind relax, Miss Foster,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And let me know once you clear the point of trust, Mr. Vacker.”

  The Black Swan had designed Sophie’s mind with a hidden entry point, where her subconscious could pull someone past her mental blocking. Apparently they had to transmit some sort of password to convince her mind she could trust them.

  She had no idea what word Fitz used, but he grinned and said, “I’m in!”

  “Very good,” Mr. Forkle told him. “Her mind is trusting you much faster.”

  “Of course it is,” Dex grumbled.

  “I’m going to return the memory,” Mr. Forkle said. “And it can be a bit disorienting, so perhaps you should hold someone’s hand, Miss Foster.”

  Dex and Keefe both offered, but Biana wrapped an arm around Sophie’s waist and had Sophie lean against her.

  “On three,” Mr. Forkle said.

  Sophie braced for pain, but when he got to “three” all she felt was a whisper of cold.

  “Is that it?” she asked. “I don’t see the memory.”

  “It takes a moment to register on your consciousness. You should feel it . . . now.”

  Sophie swayed as the memory hit, fighting to get her bearings. It felt like her mind had been dropped into the middle of a movie running on fast forward.

  That’s me, she realized as the scene slowed to a normal pace and she watched her five-year-old self reading on the steps in front of her small square house.

  What book is that? Fitz transmitted.

  Looks like an encyclopedia. I read the whole thing from A to Z by the time I was six.

  She wasn’t supposed to be reading that day. Her mom had ordered her to go outside and play with Bethany Lopez, the first-grader who lived across the street. But Bethany had called her Dorktionary and told her to go spell something. Sophie had just beaten a fifth grader in her school’s spelling bee. She didn’t understand why everyone was making such big deal about it. Why did it matter that she was only in kindergarten? Why was her principal talking to her parents about having her skip grades?

  That was the real reason her parents had sent her outside. They’d caught her listening to their whispered conversation. She’d still heard three words, though: “She’s not normal.”

  Sophie could feel her eyes burn as her emotions synced with the memory. Her five-year-old self hadn’t understood why it was so hard to fit in like her parents wanted. She’d been thinking about running away when she’d felt the prickly sense of someone watching her.

  She could feel Fitz lean closer as they relived the moment she’d looked up and spotted the strange boy in the blue bramble jersey. He was peeking at her from behind her yard’s sycamore tree—or she assumed he was. His head was turned her way, but his face was a blur.

  Sophie fought to focus the memory, but the boy remained fuzzy, even as he raised a crystal up to the sunlight and disappeared. Now Sophie knew he’d light leaped—but at the time she’d been terrified she’d seen a ghost. She’d grabbed her book and raced for the safety of her house. But her toe caught on the concrete stairs, and the last thing she remembered was the ground racing toward her and a sharp pain in her head.

  From there the memory skipped to the part Sophie already knew: waking up in the hospital, hearing thoughts for the first time and crying because she couldn’t understand what was happening.

  Whoa, Fitz transmitted. The voices feel like knives.

  I know, Sophie thought, fighting to shut down the memory. Her mind seemed determined to relive every second.

  I knew it had to be scary, manifesting so young, Fitz said, but I never realized it was like that.

  Fitz’s hands were shaking now, sharing five-year-old Sophie’s terror as she’d screamed and thrashed, begging someone to make the voices stop. The doctors hovered around her, sticking her with needles, checking equipment.

  How long was it like this before you figured it out? Fitz asked.

  The doctors gave her another sedative, Mr. Forkle told them, and while she was out I was able to plant the truth in her mind so she’d understand I’d tried to do that before, but hadn’t been able to reach her while the ability was still manifesting.

  That makes sense, Sophie thought. I remember somehow knowing that I was hearing thoughts. Also that I couldn’t ever tell anyone. I’d never felt so alone.

  I’m sorry, Mr. Forkle said.

  “Uh, are you guys okay?” Keefe asked. “Foster’s emotions are spiking all over the place, and Fitz feels . . . weird.”

  “I’m fine,” Sophie promised, shaking her head to clear it. She turned to Mr. Forkle. “But I still can’t see the boy’s face, or how you triggered my telepathy.”

  “You were unconscious for the telepathy triggering. And the boy’s face is blurry because he was wearing an addler. It’s a gadget that makes it impossible for your eyes to focus on the wearer’s face. They were very popular during the Human Assistance Program, since humans forget anyone they cannot recognize.”

  “Why would the boy have one?” Sophie asked. “And who was he? Why was he there?”


  “Those are the questions I’ve been trying to answer for the last eight years. Obviously he’s with the Neverseen, but I have no idea how he found you, or why he didn’t seem to realize what you truly were. I’m glad he didn’t, because I wasn’t watching you as closely back then. I hadn’t even known you were outside until I heard the neighbor girl shouting that you’d fallen. I ran out to check and found you bleeding and unconscious. When I probed your recent memories, I realized you’d seen an elf and I was tempted to grab you and flee. But there were too many people watching. Plus, the boy had disappeared, and I hoped that meant he’d crossed you off whatever list he was working from. Still, I decided to move up your timeline just in case. I called 9-1-1 and triggered your telepathy, knowing the head injury would be an excuse to help your mind accept the new ability. I also altered your memory to be sure you’d forget the boy. And then I never let you out of my sight again.”

  “If you erased the memory that quickly,” Keefe asked, “how did Foster write about the boy in her journal?”

  “I merely hid the memory at first. I was trying to avoid interfering any more than I had to. But the memory kept resurfacing. Sophie’s mind had latched on to the moment to try to understand it. When I caught her writing in her journal, I knew I had to be more drastic. That night I washed the moment completely and tore the page out of her journal.”

  “So you did sneak into my room while I slept?” Sophie asked, feeling especially squirmy when he nodded.

  “My job was far from easy, Miss Foster. I had to ready your abilities, keep you safe, and still have you believe you were a regular human girl.”

  “You failed pretty epically at the last one,” Sophie mumbled. “If you’d wanted me to feel normal, maybe you shouldn’t have made me read minds—or at least taught me how to block the thoughts I didn’t want to hear.”

  “Believe me, I tried. Certain skills need conscious training, and I couldn’t reveal the truth to you yet. So every night I searched your memories and helped your mind set aside anything too upsetting. I also tried to help with your headaches—don’t you remember how I was always asking about them? I even gave your mother remedies to try, but I doubt she gave them to you. She wasn’t a fan of medicine. She made it clear at her first fertility appointment that she was only there as a last resort. It was one of the reasons I selected her. So many human remedies do more harm than good, and I had to ensure you wouldn’t be subjected to them constantly. The few times you went to the doctor, I had to monitor what they gave you and then find ways to undo the damage. I also had to change your records to ensure you looked human on paper—and your hospital stays were even worse. So many files to erase and treatments to adjust. You have no idea what a nightmare it was.”