Priceless Page 3

  I wove back through the subdivision to Giselle’s house and parked out front for the second time that day.

  Bundling her up in a threadbare lightweight jacket, I tucked her into the passenger seat of the Jeep and cranked the heat up.

  Her eyes followed me, a silent question in them, as I walked around to my side of the vehicle.

  “We’re going for a ride,” I said, as I put on my seatbelt and pulled away from the curb. She huddled in her seat, lost in her mind’s abyss, somewhere far beyond my reach.

  She’d been the one to name me, name my abilities. I was an Immune and a Tracker all bundled up into one. My tracking abilities hadn’t come on line until after Berget went missing. Since then, I could pinpoint anyone I was close with, friends and even strangers, when I worked at it. All I needed was their name and a picture of them, and I was off and running. Could lead you right to them, no matter the distance. More than that, I knew if they were hurt, happy, sad, alive, or dead. With the kids I hunted for, this ability was priceless. It only failed me if the kids weren’t on this side of the veil, which from time to time was the case. If they’d been taken by supernaturals interested in the kid’s powers and abilities, they weren’t kept where I could find them easily. Even if they were dead, I could still track them, to at least give the parents some sense of closure. Unfortunately, that was all too often the case. The only one I’d never been able to find was Berget. I reached for her, even as I thought of this anomaly, finding only an empty spot inside my skull where she should have been. Even if she was dead, I should have been able to find her, to bring her home.

  My thoughts flickered as I glanced over at Giselle, sound asleep and snoring lightly, a blush of color on her cheeks. I reached over and brushed my hand over her forehead, letting out a sigh of relief. “No fever.”

  I took a left turn and my mind went back to the day I’d been bitten by a large rattlesnake, not long after moving in with Giselle and Milly. We’d been in the backyard, me practicing my tracking on the neighborhood children, pinpointing them for Giselle, while Milly practiced her incantations under her breath. I’d stepped back into a large bush and felt a sharp jab into my left leg. Looking down, a massive diamond shaped head hung off my left calf, venom pumping into my system. Its eyes transfixed me as it worked its teeth deeper into my flesh, trying to get a better grip on my calf.

  Giselle shouted, but I was too frozen by shock to move. A large part of me thought it was my time to die; the guilt over losing Berget still sat heavily on me, my inability to track the one child I loved more than any other, the depression it invoked was something I couldn’t escape. However, it wasn’t yet my time to die.

  That was the day Giselle told me I was an Immune, something she’d been suspecting, but hadn’t known for sure until I’d been bit. I was Immune not just to the supernatural bites that could turn me furry or sunlight hating, but immune to poisons of all kinds. I was also immune to most, but not all, magic and was invisible to most psychic probing. It was a sweet deal and not a part of my nature many people knew about. It was an ace up my sleeve when hunting for kids. The supernaturals who’d taken them didn’t know I wouldn’t be affected by their spells, bites, and incantations. Yay for genetic throwbacks.

  We pulled up to the hospital and I parked on the curb, getting Giselle as close to the door as possible.

  “Here we are.” I opened the passenger door.

  At first, she looked surprised to see me. Then she smiled and said, “Did you find your blue socks, dear?”

  I shook my head. “I was hoping you could help me find them. I think I left them here.” I pointed to the hospital.

  She squinted in the direction of my hand. “You think you left them in a hospital?”

  I blushed. This would not be a good time for her to be more lucid. When she was angry, she could give O’Shea a run for his money.

  “Yes, the hospital. I think that’s where they are. Can you help me?” I hoped to just get her inside.

  Giselle followed me in through the sliding front doors and up to the reception desk without a word, lowering herself slowly into one of the padded chairs set out for the infirm. I watched her a moment before turning to the clerk. “I’d like to admit my friend. She’s not competent and I think she may be quite sick. Maybe an infection of some sort. She’s been hanging around the neighbors who just got back from Mexico.” That got the clerk’s attention real fast, what with all the upheaval of the Swine flu coming up from down south. Of course, it wasn’t true, but I didn’t want them pissing around with whether or not to admit her and for how long. Just the possibility of Swine flu was an automatic admittance for someone Giselle’s age, and a minimum of a one-week observation around here.

  Within moments, they had Giselle under quarantine, settled into a private room, on fluids and a heavy dose of sedatives to keep her quiet.

  I stood by her side, mask over my nose and mouth, holding her bare hands with my gloved ones. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me anyway. The week of warmth and good food would help her more than anything else, and having her in the hospital would keep me from worrying when I should be focusing on India.

  Leaning in, I gave her a kiss on the cheek through the paper mask, then started out the door.

  “Milly will come back, Rylee.”

  I spun back toward her. “What?” But her eyes were closed and her breathing was even, her body slumped with sleep. There was nothing more, and again I headed out the door. Maybe I was hearing things, or maybe I was just hearing things I wanted to hear.

  6

  Again, I worked my way through the subdivision, this time with a distinctive shadow behind me. A traditional FBI dark-coloured SUV trailing at a distance of no more than three car lengths followed me through all the twists and turns. For now, I ignored them, but at some point I was going to have to do something about them. Damn O’Shea, he was going to make things difficult right off the bat this time.

  I pulled up to a small green-trimmed house, a two-story, with a perfectly manicured lawn out front. The only concession to living in a more rural part of the country was the Christmas lights that were still up from last year.

  Leaving my Jeep, I made my way around the side of the house and through the perfect, non-rusty gate in the perfectly trimmed white fence. The basement was a separate suite and was rented out to Kyle Jacobs, an eighteen-year old computer geek fresh out of high school who also happened to be the best hacker in town. Make that the best hacker, period.

  Not bothering to knock, I let myself right in. If Kyle didn’t know you or didn’t like you, the door would be locked. He had the whole place bugged with cameras and recorders and the door could be locked with a simple remote control he kept with him at his work desk. The kid was more paranoid than an alcoholic who’d “seen” someone looking at them sideways.

  The hallway was bare of any personal things; a camera was up in the far corner tracking my movements. I waved at it and Kyle called to me from his workroom.

  “Come on in, Rylee.” I followed his voice through the kitchen full of unwashed plates, open chip bags and empty root beer cans into the workroom, what had once been a living room. Computers, at least four that I could see, two laptops, multiple cameras, a crazy amount of wires, and other pieces of electronics I couldn’t identify were set up throughout. I touched nothing, hung back from the equipment. The thing was, the closer I got, the more the technology would act up and I needed it to work.

  I made my way to the “client’s” chair and eased myself into it. It had started life as a La-Z-Boy recliner. Now, the handle was broken and the seat tried to suck you in and eat you if you sat down too hard. I’d found that out the first time I’d come for a visit.

  “You want a beer?” He held out a can of root beer to me. His blond hair hung just past his pale blue eyes encased in big glasses. He was a cute kid, but looked closer to thirteen than the eighteen he was.

  I shrugged, “Sure, pass one ov
er.” I cracked it open, took a sip, and damn near choked. “No wonder you have so much energy, kid.” The sugar rush was immediate, lighting up my adrenaline. I was more than a tad bit sensitive to the stuff, but once in a while I liked to indulge. I put the can on the floor at my feet. There was no way I’d be able to finish it.

  Kyle laughed and clicked a button on his mouse. The screen lit up. “The usual, going through police files?”

  “Yeah, but I have a tail today so they may be trying to trace your work.”

  He spun back to me. “What kind of tail?”

  “FBI.”

  His eyes widened, and he half choked on a mouthful of pop. “What?” He squeaked out.

  I nodded, confirming what I’d already said.

  “And you came here? Man, I could get so busted for the hacking I do!” He was close to shouting, his eyes even wider behind the glasses.

  I shushed him with a wave of my hand. “Have you ever been caught?” I already knew the answer.

  “No, but it’s because I’m careful.” Frowning, he stared down at the keyboard. “This could mean jail time, easy. I don’t think I can do this. Not today.”

  From past experience, I knew getting angry was a last resort with him. He could be intimidated, but that would make it harder to work with him later on. “Listen, the little girl I’m looking for, she was stolen from the same park as another child.” I paused, debating how much to tell him. Licking my lips, I held my breath, then slowly let it out. “She’s gone missing from the same park as my little sister, same date, same situation. I need this info, Kyle. Please.” I lifted my eyes to his, hoping he could see how important this was. “I have to find her, I can’t lose her after not being able to find . . . .” I swallowed hard, the sudden lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe. Reaching for the can of root beer, I took a swig, wishing it was alcohol and not pop.

  His chair squeaked. “So that’s why you do this, huh? I’ve always wondered.”

  “My past is not a required discussion for my contacts. You told me cash was all I had to give you.” Putting the can of pop back down at my feet, I spread my hands in front of me. “Are you going to help me?”

  Fingers flew across the keyboard. He pulled up surveillance cameras even I didn’t know he had of the whole street and the next one over. Sure enough, at the end of his street sat the SUV, two dark suits inside. I felt like waving to them, knowing it was more than likely O’Shea was one of said dark suits.

  Kyle turned back to me. “I thought maybe you were joking. Okay, I guess I was hoping you were messing with me.” His eyes suddenly looked far older than they had just a moment before.

  I shook my head. “No, I wasn’t. What will it be? Helping me find this kid, or sending me out on my own?”

  He snorted and ran a hand through his straw-coloured hair. “Okay, I can get you in, but as always, we don’t know each other if you get picked up.”

  I smiled, relief coursing through me. I put two fingers in the air. “Scouts’ honour.”

  I gave him India’s information and within a few minutes he had it pulled up. There in black ‘and white and colour was what I was worried about.

  There was always a small chance something got left behind by the kidnappers, even supernaturals fucked up from time to time. But in this case, there was literally no evidence there had even been a kidnapping other than the fact there was a child missing. No footprints, cloth samples, or eye witnesses to be found, despite the fact she went missing at sunset, just before dark, under her own mother’s care at a busy park. It was exactly like Berget.

  Like being transported back in time, I could see my sister on the swing, laughing and squealing, the fading sun turning her hair into a golden nimbus around her head. I was lying on my back, reading my book, glancing up from time to time. Between one pump of her little legs and the next, she was snatched. I closed my eyes against the guilt and pain swelling through me. I wouldn’t let India face the same fate as Berget.

  Pushing the memories aside, I thought about the case I was working now. I was definitely going to need some outside help on this one. With Milly out, the closest shaman with any actual ability was in New Mexico. A bit of a drive, but I really had no other choice in the matter.

  “You think you can find this kid, even though it’s the same as your sister’s case?”

  Kyle’s question caught me off guard. “Yes, I can find her.” I had to believe it. Giselle told me there was time. Scanning the screen, I read through her case. Not a single hint as to what had taken her. Nothing. Yet, if it was truly the same as Berget, I had an idea of what it might be, though not who. Why would the FBI be brought in? Just because there was money involved? Was there a slew of kidnappings going on? A chill ran down my spine. Or maybe there was another reason entirely; maybe they were starting to wonder about the crimes that couldn’t be solved, the ones that were impossible unless supernatural reasons were taken into account. Not that they thought like that.

  I pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills and laid five on the table, Kyle’s usual fee. I laid another ten on top, almost half of my deposit from India’s parents. “Can you get me into the FBI’s files?”

  Kyle stared at the money, and looked up at me. “Maybe, yeah, I could. But what do they have to do with this? I can’t go hacking the FBI just because you want me to.”

  I leaned forward, my hands going to either side of him and effectively pinning him up against his desk. Kyle’s eyes widened and not in a good way.

  “I always have a good reason, kid. That doesn’t mean I can always tell you. You don’t get to know everything just because you’re my hacker.” I was always good at the bitch eyes—you know, the drop-dead and leave me alone eyes that every girl acquires at some point or another—and today was no exception. The air crackled between us and I shifted my body so he got a glimpse of one of the blades on my hip.

  He nodded and turned around, completely silent. I felt like an absolute bully, but that didn’t mean I’d apologize. I would make up for it another time. Maybe bring him a new video game.

  It took Kyle close to ten minutes and some serious typing to get into the FBI files, but he cracked the codes. “You’re only going to have a few minutes to find what you’re looking for before I get traced.” His voice was all business now.

  He gave me his seat. And I started searching, hoping my proximity to the computer wouldn’t crash it. Today was my lucky day. There was a file under India’s name, and one under Berget’s. A large file under my own that I scanned quickly, but there was no mention of supernatural abilities.

  “You’ve got two minutes left,” Kyle said from behind me.

  “Okay, I’m almost there,” I said

  I did a search for ‘supernatural,’ and then ‘unexplained,’ with no results. “What’s another word for unexplainable or magic?” I muttered to myself.

  “Arcane.” Kyle grumbled at me. He was still pouting from being told to butt out.

  I typed in the word and the computer screen flashed before taking me to a section I hoped I would never see. The Arcane division of the FBI.

  7

  “You have got to be freaking kidding me!” Kyle exclaimed over my shoulder.

  “Damn it, kid, don’t you ever listen?” I snapped. “Forget it, just print this off, or save it for me, or do whatever you can in the last bit of time you have.”

  Kyle sat and the printer started up. “I’ve printed the entire section for you, but it’s over three hundred pages long so it’s going to take a while.”

  “How long’s ‘a while’ and are you going to have enough paper?” I sat back in the recliner.

  A while turned out to be over two hours thanks to his prehistoric printer. You’d think with all the upgraded equipment he had, he would’ve put out for a faster printer. The possibility of not having enough paper was bad, but worse was his non-stop questions, of which I answered zero. If he’d been just a few years older, I would have had a lot less difficulty with him. I wo
uld have just thumped him on the head and left him tied up in the bathroom. Being a kid gave him an immunity to my anger and my blades that he didn’t even realize he had.

  I ended up drinking the rest of the root beer and felt a sugar headache coming on fast. At least it would keep me awake.

  Kyle bundled up all the papers for me and wrapped them with two elastic bands. “Here. I think that’s all of them.”

  I took the bundle and tucked it under one arm.

  “So, what do you think the files are really for?”

  I looked up, surprised at first. Of course, he couldn’t believe the files were about the supernatural. That was an impossibility in his world of technology.

  “Just a code name for missing kids. The ones they can’t explain.” He followed me out to the door, neither one of us noticing the slight beeping on his security system until we were at the door. Or the pair of suits walking up on the camera monitors toward his back door. Not good; sloppy on both our parts. I blamed my inattention to the memories that this case was stirring up.

  The doorknob was cool under my hand and the slightest shuffle on the other side of the door caught my ear at the last second. I froze and looked over at Kyle.

  His face was pale and his eyes wide. He shook his head ever so slightly and I backed off the door. Together, we sidled back into the kitchen. Running back to his workroom, he checked his security monitors and let out a groan, hands clenched in his hair. There in black and white were two very dark grey suits, standing at his back door, discussing something. Probably us. Kyle grabbed my arm, his body trembling. “I didn’t know they would actually show up at my door,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the sudden stress.