It was amazing how easy it was to cope with being overwhelmed and frightened when his lover was standing in front of their ragtag group with a map and a scowl. Holden wasn’t sure when his brain had switched over from calling Six the cyborg to his lover, but the phrase came with absolutely zero alarm.
There were no labels yet attached to their transition from handler and boss’s son to wary comrades to comrades who calmed down by making each other come, but Holden didn’t need any. Out of all the men he’d ever been with, no one had ever expressed so much frustration over an inability to show him more affection. It just didn’t happen. Usually, people expressed frustration because they couldn’t use him as a stepping stone to greater things in the Community. Holden had never been on the receiving end of a mushy declaration, but he’d just gotten one from a man whose brain prevented him from having empathy. It had to mean something.
“Holden, you with us?”
“You said there are three routes away from the Farm and back to Highway 82,” Holden repeated.
“Yes.” Six flashed him a tiny smile, like he knew his voice almost always sounded too harsh. That speech out in the yard had definitely meant something. “We have three vehicles at our disposal. Holden left his sedan just off 82 in the woods before Turner Road, I left my motorcycle at the end of Turner at the start of the marshes, and Lia’s truck is . . .”
“It’s off the road on the property across the highway a ways down,” Lia said. “It looks like some kind of government facility and seems to be closed for the holidays. It’s probably the farthest vehicle, so whoever goes with me will hopefully be in decent physical condition.”
Trent rocked back on the balls of his feet. “Are we expecting them to be injured? I thought it was just brainwashing. Reprogramming. Whatever the hell you’re calling it.”
“Usually it is,” Six said. “But that changes when people aren’t cooperative or if they try to escape. And if any of them are too far gone, they may resist and become combative.”
“Do you think that will be the case?” Nate pressed.
“I don’t know. Elijah hasn’t been there long enough to have been thoroughly brainwashed. And Chase is strong-willed and a pain in their asses, so he’s likely not fully changed over just yet.”
Six glanced down at the map. It outlined the five main buildings on the property—an unused barn, the farmhouse where most staff lived, the guest house, the cottage, and then the silo.
“I’m assuming Jessica is either in the main house or in the guest house, which is where I last saw her. Elijah is probably in the cottages where they do the actual realigning the way it’s described to the masses.” Six pointed at the dark X he’d drawn to mark the silo. “Chase is here.”
“They keep him in a grain silo?” Trent asked dubiously. “It has to be converted into something else.”
“It is.”
Six removed his phone from his pocket and thumbed at it for a moment before passing it around. At some point during his career at the Farm, he’d captured several pictures of the interior of the silo. It had been reconstructed into a four-story building with a freight elevator that went up the middle and tube-like rooms that were packed onto each floor.
“That reminds me of that Japanese tower,” Trent said, handing the phone back. “The capsule tower.”
“That was Richard’s inspiration. I was there when they talked about it, and I watched it be built.”
“Sounds like you have a lot of history with these people.” Nate had unwound his multitude of scarves and shed his trench coat. He looked more familiar in the tattered jeans and a plain white tee. “Are you sure they weren’t expecting you to defect all along?”
“I’m positive. Richard wouldn’t have let me off the Farm.”
“But why was he so sure of himself?” Nate pressed. “I know I’m being cynical, but I like to prepare for the worst. What are the odds that one of their precogs saw this coming and all of this is a giant trap?”
Not having thought of that angle, Holden’s stomach clenched. He exchanged looks with Lia, who had shifted closer to Nate. Although he’d known Lia longer, she clearly had a lot of respect for the remaining Black twin. Probably because he’d seen through all the Community bullshit from the get-go. It was hard not to feel a little bitter about having not seen through it as well, especially when Holden’s blindness had nearly resulted in catastrophic failure and death.
It was still difficult to look at Trent without remembering his vacant eyes and his strong hands wrapped around Holden’s throat. Beck’s ability to mind control had been like nothing he’d seen before, and he often wondered which psy she’d cannibalized to absorb the power.
Six set the phone on the counter next to his maps—both real and drawn. He planted his hands and leaned forward, looking between them.
“I don’t expect any of you to trust me one hundred percent. If you do, you’re probably an idiot.”
“I guess I’m an idiot, then,” Holden said.
Six’s mouth twitched up at the side. “Not you. But these two barely know me and their questions make sense, so I’ll put it to them like this—psychics are assholes. They’re so caught up in their X-Men shit—”
“See? X-Men,” Trent muttered to Nate. “I’m not the only one thinking it.”
“—that they stop using their other senses and their instincts. They rely on their abilities or the abilities of people they think they can trust. Because I’m an impenetrable, they can’t get that far with me. All they know is what I tell them, because they don’t know how to read me any other way, and I’ve been doing this so long they have no reason to believe I’m not really on their side. And I’ve never been on their side.”
“You know I believe in you, Six,” Lia said. “But do you really think we can pull this off? Just walk onto this place, a place three out of five of us have never even been in, and remove three high-profile Community members? No offense, but if you get me killed, I’m going to whoop your ass in whatever afterlife we end up in.”
Now that was a question that had reoccurred in the back of Holden’s mind since they’d started pointing at maps and going over backup plans, but he’d never voiced it. Maybe he really was an overly trusting idiot, because when Six had confidently outlined how they would get in and out, Holden hadn’t doubted that it could happen. Unless they got split up and he was left on his own.
“We can do it,” Six said. “You just have to make sure you stay low. This isn’t some bustling place where you can blend in. It’s quiet, orderly, and everyone knows each other.”
“And if someone tries to stop us?” Holden asked. “If someone sees me?”
“Bullshit your way out of it or run.”
They waited until nightfall to make their way to the Farm. Good for concealment, but bad for Holden’s sense of direction and nerves. With each step, he imagined the crack of a twig or crunch of a dead leaf alerting nearby predators. Previously, he’d thought woods were full of dangerous animals and serial killers. That was potentially the case here, but he was more worried about the guards who were apparently trained to view Comm members as objects to be destroyed or silenced if they didn’t perform as expected after all of the conditioning.
According to Six, they always had at least twelve guards on a patrol shift at a time. The upside was that the property was huge, so twelve people couldn’t sufficiently patrol the Farm and all four buildings without there being huge gaps in coverage. The downside, to Holden, was that their plan didn’t account for any psychics who might sense their presence on the property. Although, all of them except Trent could shield themselves from probing psychic mental fingers. It was a huge chance they were taking, but their hope was that none of the guards would expect a void to stage a daring escape and wouldn’t be looking out for those kinds of vibes.
The other thing that bothered Holden was how arrogant his father had to have become to have security this lax. Over the years, his father’s feet must have permanently left the earth as he’d started thinking of himself as a small god lording over the community he’d created. The cult he’d created. And they were so sure of their reprogramming, they’d clearly never expected the lack of security to ever become a problem. The real problem was whether that arrogance was valid.
Holden’s mother had been an entirely different person on the phone. If it hadn’t been an act, it would be difficult to reason with or appeal to the humanity of a person who’d been brainwashed into viewing anyone but a Community flunkey as a threat.
They slunk through the trees and onto the wide stretches of grass in order to make their way to the main house. It was beautiful even in the darkness, with a wraparound porch, clusters of trees hugging the sides, and a single light casting a golden glow on the front. It was so silent and peaceful that Holden had a hard time reconciling it with their mission and everything Six had said.
“You really think they’d keep my mother here?” Holden whispered. “When I spoke to her, I had the impression she was being closely monitored, and this place was lax when I was here.”
“She could be, but we’ll check both buildings.” Six jerked his head at Holden, Nate, and Trent. “You three check the guest house, and me and Lia will go into the main house.”
Holden opened his mouth to protest but swallowed it. Lia was far more formidable than he was, and they needed an even distribution of capable humans. When it came down to it, they’d primarily brought Holden along due to his ability to influence people with his talent. Hopefully it didn’t come to that point.
“Be careful,” Six said, directing it at all of them but staring at Holden. “I’ll be pissed if you wind up locked in the silo.”
“You and me both.”
Holden started to turn to scuttle deeper into the shadows with Nate and Trent, but Six yanked him back for a quick kiss. The energy between them crackled, and Holden felt Six’s worry. It’d been so long since anyone had shown true concern for him that he was momentarily at a loss. A search for a witty comment came up empty. Trent rolled his eyes and jerked his shoulder.
“Let’s go.”
Six nodded and turned away. He and Lia moved together toward the porch and threw themselves over the railing like sleek athletic shadows.
“Let’s go,” Trent repeated with a note of impatience. “Be moony later.”
“I’m not being moony.”
Trent didn’t respond. Nate had already begun slinking toward the guest house. It was a smaller version of the main, but had less ornamentation and fewer staff members around. There was a guard posted in the front and another standing below the porch steps, but that was it. Six had implied the staff at the Farm were largely unmotivated by their jobs and had no real desire to be isolated in upstate New York, and that seemed to hold true even now. From what Holden saw, the were no additional reinforcements around and nobody seemed particularly tense.
“I don’t think anyone saw us coming—psychically or otherwise,” Holden said. “But we still need to be careful and not be seen.”
“Right,” Nate said. “It’s too early to get into a back-and-forth with one of them.”
“Or to knock someone’s head off,” Trent added.
Nodding in agreement, Holden scanned the vicinity. “There’s a back door leading into the kitchen and two staircases—one going to the attic and the other to the basement. I know this because I used to sneak around looking for booze when I came here as a teen.” He jerked his chin toward the yard behind the guest house. “If there’s a guard back there too . . .”
“I can try to scale the side,” Nate said. “I’m limber.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“Trust me,” Trent said. “He is.”
Holden didn’t know whether to despise Trent and his deadpan sense of humor at extremely inappropriate times, or to be charmed. No wonder Nate had so ardently resisted Holden last summer.
“No one at the back,” Trent said seconds later. “Do you feel anything?”
Nate shook his head, and Holden did the same.
“Stay here,” he told Nate. “And try to project some kind of warning if anyone sees you or comes into the house.”
“Holden, my empath abilities are still not . . .”
“They’re good enough for this. You can do it. I know you can.”
Nate was still frowning as he sunk to his knees and disappeared behind the shrubs lining the guest house. Trent lingered before scurrying behind Holden into the back of the house. It was larger than it looked on the outside, but Holden had remembered that from infrequent visits in his youth. The unfocused footprints of his childhood allowed him to take the lead, and guide Trent through a darkened kitchen large enough to cook for a restaurant and through a half hallway serving as a china cabinet. It was untouched, just like it had been years ago, polished enough for moonlight to reflect off the dishes but arranged in a way that would make it cumbersome for anyone to try to use them. Was this all for show? The entire place?
The bottom floor was absent of life except for a woman curled up in a rocking chair in one of the sitting rooms. Holden hadn’t noticed her at first, and it was Trent who’d nudged him. Everything from her hair to her eyes had the appearance of having been bleached of color, but she was eerily beautiful and of indistinguishable age. Something about her was familiar, though. Holden stared, frowning, for so long that she turned her head and met his gaze.
Trent stiffened, swearing under his breath, but she didn’t do anything else. It was like she didn’t actually see them at all.
“Move,” Trent hissed. “Before she wakes up from that fog.”
Holden didn’t have to be told twice. They crept up the stairs with painstaking slowness, and found the master bedroom locked but completely silent. Holden reached out with his gift, and sensed no one on the other side of the door.
The rest of the floor was just as empty as down below. There were two closed doors, but nobody was in the room Holden had once stayed in, and the other bedroom was inhabited by sleeping children who strongly resembled the woman in the rocking chair. Both spaces were large with wood paneling and lots of soft fabrics draping from the windows and covering the beds, but everything was light colored and reeked of a weird perfume.
“Odd,” Trent muttered. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
They met up with Nate outside, texted Six and Lia that they were moving on, and made the same slow, silent trip to the cottage. The structure was nearer to the silo than the main and guest houses. Six and Lia were already there, but there was no sign of Holden’s mother.
Hunkering down behind the rusted shell of a pickup truck, Holden leaned in. “Did you see Elijah?”
“No. He wouldn’t have been there.” Six’s eyes glittered as he flashed them around the vicinity. “I don’t understand why they moved her,” he whispered. “Never in all my time here have they kept someone as high profile as her in the cottage.”
“Maybe something changed,” Lia murmured. “They seem to be getting more paranoid and prone to make stupid-ass decisions if we go by the fact that Richard is no longer above throwing his own son under the bus. Putting Mrs. Payne into a cell could be one more example of that.”
Six just kept frowning up at the cottage. It was three levels, made of stucco, and had bars outside the windows. They resembled the white painted security bars you’re likely to see on a house in the city rather than a prison, but they still had an ominous quality and contrasted greatly with the opulent decor in the other two buildings.
“She sounded erratic when I spoke to her last,” Holden said. “And when we were hanging up, it got more intense. She was frantic to shut me up before I could discuss the situation at Evolution.”
Six’s frown deepened, but he didn’t ask for details. “Let’s split up and go inside. There’s more security here.”
Holden didn’t move. He thought about the night they’d confronted Beck, and the way she’d mind controlled Trent into turning on him. It was only a matter of time before they were spotted, and the likelihood of one or more of them being turned into puppets the way Trent had been . . . It made Holden’s skin crawl and his stomach churn.
“Six, can you try to extend your shield?” Everyone looked at Holden like he’d lost his mind, including Six, but he persisted. “It’s not just about cover of darkness. If someone sees or senses us, we’re done and everyone will be on high alert.”
“I don’t know how to do that. It’s not possible.”
“It is. You’ve done it to me when we’re . . .” Holden glanced at the others, his face heating. Strange how, in the past, he’d talked about sucking dick within days of meeting Nate but referencing the intimacy between him and Six made him antsy. “You’ve done it before. Just visualize your shield as if it’s a physical object, and then think about it expanding. If you can encompass all of us, that’s another layer of protection while we’re in the cottage.”
“It won’t help in the silo,” he pointed out. “We’ll have to split up, and it’s larger.”
“I know, but because it’s larger, I’m hoping there will be a less concentrated group of guards.”
“Good point.” Six didn’t look sold on being able to use his own shield as protection for the full group, but he jerked his head in a short nod. “I’ll give it a shot.”
Trent shook his head, likely still thinking this was again starting to resemble a comic book plot. Holden ignored him and covered one of Six’s hands with his own. He hoped the strength of their connection would allow Six to spread his invulnerability to the rest of the group.
At first, nothing happened, but then Six’s eyes opened wider and Holden saw the psy-kid glow Six had mentioned weeks ago. The glitter brightened the darkness of his eyes, and for a fragment of a second they were as gray as Nate’s. It was the most beautiful thing Holden had ever seen, that silvery sheen, before the blanket of protection swept over him. The glow disappeared, but it was replaced by the net of safety. One glance at Lia, Nate, and Trent made it plain they felt the calm force of his power.
Six eased out of his crouch and pulled Holden up with him.
“Let’s go.”