“We still don’t know anything about Chase?”
“No, but I’m beginning to think he’s at the Farm.”
Elijah plopped down on an ancient orange recliner, the fabric covered with patches and stitches from years of being ripped open and sewn back together. It was so big that he looked smaller than usual curled up on it, his knees drawn up to his chin and arms wrapped around them. With his tattered cardigan draping around him and a Charlie Brown Christmas tree limply sitting on a side table nearby, he looked like a character in a Dickens novel.
A Dickens novel where the orphans drank whiskey with Pop-Tarts while watching holiday cartoons—a grim reminder that it was Christmas Day, and Holden hadn’t even noticed before now. He usually spent the morning with his father at the CW and the evening at the club, but that hadn’t even come up. It was painfully obvious that his father was avoiding him. Maybe doing damage control to his own rep if the other founders were wary of Holden and Evo.
It stung, and Holden hated the burn. Why couldn’t he be like Elijah, who’d been run out of his own house as a teen and had survived? Or Six, who had flatly told him he’d be spending the day working out and gave no fucks about family or holidays? Why was he so hurt that neither parent had contacted him? Although . . . who knew what was going on with his mother. The memory of that phone call put everything back into perspective.
“Do you think he’s there because he wants to be?” Elijah asked, poking at his frosted Pop-Tart. “Like, do you think he’s celebrating Christmas or . . . doing some weird group therapy indoctrination about following Community protocol?”
“I couldn’t say, Elijah. Did you usually spend the day with him?”
“Yes. And I just want him to be happy. Or at least not . . . entirely miserable.” Elijah buried his face in his knees again. He was so out of place in the hodgepodge apartment. Eclectic didn’t begin to describe it. Paintings and prints covered every available space on the walls along with rows of bookshelves. It was much smaller than Elijah’s past apartment, and the belongings weren’t his. Apparently, Airbnbs came in handy for people on the run. The clutter was not ideal for an empath, but luckily Holden’s mental shield was strong enough to block the vibes. Nate Black wouldn’t have been as fortunate. “I went to the Farm when I first joined, but I honestly don’t remember a lot about what happened there. I’m pretty sure they’re not big into holidays though.”
“Wasn’t that only a few years ago?”
“Yeah, but it’s like the memories are gone.” He spread his fingers like an explosion. “Poof.”
“Why were you even there?”
Elijah tore at the rip in the knee of his pants. “When they found me, I was drinking and taking pills. They wanted me detoxed and aligned before trusting me to learn everything else about the Comm, I guess.”
The running themes of trust and making sure people wouldn’t expose the Community were starting to niggle at Holden. There seemed to be more of a focus on keeping things hushed up than truly helping the people they’d originally vowed to protect.
“I wonder what happens to people who, in their eyes, might now or have in the past posed a threat to the Community. Whether it’s a real threat or imagined in the minds of the board members. Or just fear. That would be even worse—the idea that they’re letting fear drive their actions.” Holden sat on the edge of a similarly overstuffed chair with a colorful checkered pattern. “I’m starting to wonder if a lot of people who go to the Farm long-term end up sounding like puppets like my mother or disappear into some portal like Chase?”
“Don’t say it like that. Please.” Elijah closed his eyes. “It makes it sound like we’ll never see him again.”
“How do we know we will? How do I know I’ll see my mother?”
“How do you know we won’t?” Elijah demanded, abruptly sitting upright. He kicked his legs out in front of him and slid to the edge of the cushion. “I know this all looks bad, but I want to believe he’ll be okay. Maybe he’s just going through realignment because he tried to figure out the Beck thing on his own instead of going to your father? I’m sure it doesn’t help that he brought an outsider into it.” Elijah hunched forward, cracking his knuckles and looking imploringly up at Holden. “Think about it. Even if Nate is psy, he still isn’t part of the Comm. And I’m pretty sure he never wants to be. At this point, I don’t want to be either. I wish I’d never gotten sucked into all of this bullshit. It’s starting to feel like . . . a giant scam to get money from members in exchange for control over our actions and undying loyalty. What do we even get in return?”
Even knowing there was something suspicious going on, the words hurt. Without the Comm, Holden would have never met Elijah. Besides that, Elijah was one of the people the Community had truly come through for, which was why he had a testimonial on a plaque at the CW. There were dual parts of Holden’s brain warring about whether he should let the comments slide or point this out and defend the Community.
Holden opened his mouth to go for something in the middle, to point out that all of this drama and confusion was likely due to nothing this bad having ever happened in the Comm before, and now the leaders were overreacting due to panic. But words of defense wouldn’t come with his own father allowing blame to be laid at his feet. But believing in something for so many years only to have it fall apart bit by bit felt like a knife twisting in his gut.
Holden blew out a slow breath, sorting through everything Elijah had said. “It’s possible he’s going through realignment, but it works differently for different people. I had a light version when I was a kid, but that likely has more to do with my father than anyone else. The only person I can think of who has been thoroughly subjected to the full treatment is Sixtus, and asking him is out of the question.”
Especially since they’d been avoiding each other for the past couple of days. Six had even stopped gracing him with his blunt observations and dry sarcasm. He kept his distance. They’d only exchanged words when Holden had awkwardly asked about holiday plans.
“What reason did your father give for sending Sixtus?” Elijah asked, voice lowering as if Six would be able to hear it from uptown. “Just another person to keep an eye on the club, or did he finally admit that he wants someone keeping an eye on you?”
“We all know he wants me to have a handler, but I’m starting to think I finally know the real reason why . . .” Now Holden was copying Elijah and lowering his voice with every word. “They know they fucked up with Beck, and there’s apparently discontent in the Community. Maybe even with the board. Apparently, the only way they can think of to cover their asses is to put the blame on us for not spotting Beck sooner. Which means I absolutely do not trust Six. He was the one who told me the deal, but that doesn’t mean anything. He was sent by my father. And apparently he isn’t the only one.”
Elijah shrank in on himself again. “You’re talking about those guys who’ve been following me.”
“So you knew.”
“Of course I knew. I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you were. I just didn’t know if they ever made their presence known more overtly.”
“They’re the same guys who showed up at Lia’s house to look for me.” Elijah glanced at his phone. “And, speaking of Lia, she’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were having company.”
Holden started to stand, but Elijah shook his head. “She wants to talk to you.”
“About?”
Elijah bit his lower lip and glanced at the door. “All of this.”
“What do you mean . . . ‘all of this’?” Holden’s brow crashed down. “Fuck, Elijah, you didn’t run your mouth about Community shit to Lia, did you? That is absolutely unacceptable.”
“‘Unacceptable’? Seriously?” Elijah got to his feet and put his hands on his hips. “After all that’s happened, and all that’s going on, you expect me to care about rules made up by people like your father? Rich psychics who use their influence to turn us into puppets?”
Those dual urges reared up again, but instead of fighting them, Holden took a step forward. “Where is this coming from, Elijah? I know what happened with Beck was awful. I may not have been as close with Jericho or Theo as you were, but I cared about them both. Especially Theo. And I hate that it happened under my nose. I hate that the Community is trying to cover up their own oversight, but that doesn’t change that they helped you. I have helped you. And six months ago, you were one of the Community’s biggest cheerleaders. You were one of the main people railing against Theo when he started throwing the Comm under the bus!”
“I know that,” Elijah said, voice lowering. “And I feel awful for it now.”
“Okay. I’ll ask again. Where is this coming from?”
“It’s coming from me wondering if I was their biggest cheerleader because . . .” Elijah’s dark eyes flashed damply. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because they knew how to manipulate a gay kid with no family. They knew I would do anything to be accepted somewhere, so they found my weaknesses and exploited them. Had me thinking the Community was basically my church and you and your dad were my gods for saving me. And had me feeling so grateful and indebted that I never questioned the membership fee, the rules, or the idea that turning on your friends like I did to Theo was for their own sake and for a greater good of the Community.” Elijah swallowed heavily, hugging himself tighter. “And there’s so many Comm members like me, Holden. It’s almost like they seek out people who are missing something in their lives . . . so they can fill the holes and leave us feeling terrified of losing the organization that saved us.”
Holden didn’t know what to say. Especially because . . . it rang true. And similar thoughts had drifted through his own head after his father had gone along with him opening Evolution. He’d wondered if Richard had wanted him to collect more kids like Elijah. The lost always became the most loyal.
But those weren’t things he was prepared to say out loud.
A knock on the door served as both an interruption and Holden’s answer. He pursed his lips and watched Elijah edge around him to answer the door.
Lia walked in wrapped in a leather bomber jacket, multiple scarves, and boots that consumed her entire leg and half of her thigh. She’d bleached and cut her hair, and she looked glamorous even as her eyes skewered Holden to the spot as soon as they set on him.
“Long time no see, Payne.”
“Same. How is your holiday going?”
“I’m an atheist.”
“Oh. Sorry for assuming.”
Lia snorted and unwound one of her scarves. “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, but we need to talk, and I’m running on limited time.”
“It depends on what we’re talking about,” he countered. “If it’s about the situation with people following Elijah to your house, I would love to figure out why that’s happening. If it’s about the Community being a big bad organization who wants to turn us all into puppets . . . Well . . . I may be less agreeable.”
Lia exchanged looks with Elijah before swinging a much less impressed gaze back to his face. “So you’re still drinking your daddy’s Kool-Aid.”
“Actually, I’m not. I know something isn’t right. I’m not an idiot. But I also refuse to drink your Kool-Aid and tell myself that they’ve never done anything good for anybody. I’ve seen the results of what they can do—and Elijah is an example of that and so is my brother. So are a lot of the other gay kids I’ve hired on at the club.”
“That’s your mistake, Holden. That’s not the Community making a difference. It’s you.” Lia unwound the second scarf and let them dangle from her hand. “You’re being defensive because you think you’ve seen evidence of the fruits of their labor, but the labor was yours. You took Elijah in. You treated Chase like your brother. You hand selected troubled and homeless psys to work at Evolution. Not your daddy. Not Lukas Kyger or Michelle Hale. You.”
The statement took the wind out of Holden’s defensive sails. “I’m not the only one who’s helped. Community Watch is—”
“The board doesn’t run Community Watch by themselves. They put people there to run it, so yeah, there have been great success stories. People who’ve been nurtured and then sent out into the world to get jobs at companies run by successful psychics, and they use their new salaries to pay their annual Community membership fees. Lifetime membership fees.” Lia swung her scarf back and forth like a pendulum. “And then the even more successful psychics, the ones they found young and put through school—the ones with charisma and high intellect . . . Well, those guys go into policy making. They get federal jobs. Sometimes even Department of Justice or Defense. Sometimes Congress. Sometimes they go even higher than that.”
“I’m sorry, but are you suggesting . . .” Holden tried to keep the skeptically smart-ass look off his face and failed. “Are you implying the Community exists to make money off members in some cases and use them as . . . pawns in others?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. And I’m not the only one who feels that way.” Lia’s expression didn’t flicker. She didn’t stop swinging her scarf. “There’s an entire group of people who feel just like me.”
“Really.”
“Really,” she said. “Ex-Community members and psychics who’ve been warned to stay away. Jericho was in that group, and that’s why he’s dead. I strongly believe that.”
“Jericho’s dead because he knew too much about Beck and what she was up to. Or at least she must have thought so to have felt the need to silence him.”
“Right. Beck.” Lia stopped swinging the scarf and balled it in her hand. “Beck, whose known gift was spotting rare and multitalented psychics. That’s who your father planted in Evolution to watch you. Not another empath, or an invulnerable like Six who won’t be swayed—”
Holden’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know—”
“—not a postcog who could’ve helped you to figure out why people were disappearing, or a precog who could have helped you avoid future problems. He put in . . . a spotter. And that makes sense to you.”
Elijah was starting to look uneasy at the direction the conversation was going in. He wrung his hands together, shifting from foot to foot, but didn’t interrupt. He’d probably heard all this before. Maybe he even believed it. Whatever it was. That Holden’s father had wanted Beck to find rare talents for him?
“You can’t believe he wanted her to go around eating psychic powers.”
“Not necessarily, but you bet your sweet ass I believe the board is constantly looking for new pawns to turn into loyal drones who can be strategically placed. Maybe they didn’t expect Beck to go Hannibal on them, but it’s their fault she was there. I mean, fuck, are we even sure she killed them all? Maybe a couple got swooped up beforehand and sent up to the Farm like Chase. For realignment.” Lia shrugged. “Either way, Beck wasn’t acting on her own. It’s all part of the bigger picture, Holden. And the only reason I’m telling you this is because Elijah told me to trust you. He’s seen you working with Ex-Comm, and he believes we need you.”
Holden’s jaw dropped. There were clearly no half measures for Lia. She was going all the way in with this conspiracy theory, and apparently Elijah was right there with her. The fact that she knew so much about the Community, about the Farm and realignment and his father, made it clear someone had been talking.
“Elijah, what the fuck?”
Elijah wrapped his cardigan tighter around him. “Yeah, I sort of had a vision . . . about us. And you. And Nate . . .”
“Doing what?”
“We were all together in this wooded area. By a river or a lake or something.” Elijah’s eyes grew far away as he talked about it. The typically vivid color faded and turned foggy, a haze that indicated he really was seeing the future. A future in which they reunited with Nate. “I can’t see anything else. My gift has never been that strong, but . . . it’s also never been this clear. We were all together, and we were with Nate.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me any of this before?”
“Lia explains things better than me. And I’ve only just learned about Ex-Comm.”
“‘Ex-Comm,’” Holden repeated. “Is that your little anti-Community group?”
“Yes,” Lia said. “Although it’s not so little anymore.”
Holden glared at her, and Elijah rushed over to touch his arm.
“Holden, even if you don’t believe us now, I know you will at some point. I have no doubt that you’ll be right here with us trying to figure out what the Community really wants from us all, and how Beck, Jericho, Theo, and all the others fit into that plan. How Chase and your mother are fitting into it now.”
When Holden said nothing, Lia picked up the slack. Her voice softened, although there was still an edge of get your shit together in her tone.
“The organization raised you. I get it. I get that it’s hard to open your eyes to the fact that it isn’t what you’ve thought it is, but it’s time. People have been hurt. They’ve been fucking killed. And it’s not just Evolution that was targeted.” Lia hesitated for a moment, maybe wondering if she could trust him with whatever else she was thinking about, before saying, “Ex-Comm was formed by people who escaped after being manipulated or mistreated by Community staff, but it’s populated by both psys and voids who have had extremely talented family members disappear after coming into contact with the Comm. It’s not just Evolution, Holden. It wasn’t just Beck. She let her own resentment and bitterness turn her into a monster, but I have no fucking doubts that she was placed there for the sole purpose of snapping up rare psychics. Those disappearances would have happened had she cannibalized them or not.”
“Well maybe you should have doubts, because this is on another level of ludicrous.”
Holden pulled away from Elijah and grabbed his coat from the side of the recliner and yanked it on. He was running away, and he didn’t care. Fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in, and they were telling him to get the fuck out of this tiny studio. Away from Lia and Elijah. Back to Hell’s Kitchen. It didn’t help that when he reached out with his talent, he felt that they one hundred percent believed what they were saying. And Elijah had really seen that vision. Which only made him want to run even farther and faster.
“Holden, don’t go.”
Elijah reached for him, but Lia stepped between them.
“Let him leave. He isn’t ready.”
“I’ll never be ready for this nonsense. Call me when you want to talk about something real.”
It was colder when Holden returned to Manhattan. The wind cut through his clothes and skin to chill his bones, and yet he didn’t return to his apartment or Evolution. He kept walking past Ninth Avenue, then Tenth, until he was striding into the increasingly desolate streets that ran into the West Side Highway and the Hudson River.
Holden ducked his head, hands shoved into the pockets of his wool coat, and kept walking. Without purpose at first, but then something deep inside of him began tugging him to a specific street and a specific pier. A pier that sent dark vibes snaking through him with the speed of a spreading ice as soon as he stopped in front of the makeshift memorial for Theo Black. Even after six months, it was intact.
Kneeling beside it, Holden ran his fingers along the dying roses and weathered cards. The flowers were new enough to have been placed there within the last week, which meant someone still cared. Maybe Lia and Elijah. Or someone else Theo had made a connection with who had nothing to do with Evolution or the Community. Someone completely uninvolved in the brewing shit-storm, and who had no idea that Theo’s death had started a downward spiral for both Comm leaders and members alike. Trust was at an all-time low among the psychics who came to Evolution, with everyone so desperate to explain what had happened that they were willing to point fingers and come up with wild theories.
But . . . was Lia’s theory so wild?
Holden sat on the cold pier with his legs folded under him and his head in his hands.
He wished Chase was with him. Throughout their childhood, Chase had always been the fearless one. The one who wasn’t afraid to take matters into his own hands and then convey his findings with brutal honesty. Holden had never been able to tell if his half brother didn’t care about being sensitive and careful, or if he’d simply been born without those attributes in exchange for the multiple extrasensory abilities he had likely inherited from the Blacks. He’d always been special. And, yet, he hated that about himself. Chase often called himself a mutant and a freak, and wished he was normal.
Holden had never understood why Chase had such self-loathing for his own gifts, why he’d sometimes told Holden to not talk about it around the Payne family or prominent members of the Community. It had almost been like he’d wanted to hide it, or himself, but Holden had never known why.
If Lia was right, maybe he’d wanted to avoid becoming one of the people that spotters . . . collected and used as pawns. Or maybe he’d been afraid of other psychic vampires like Beck.
Maybe that was why he’d kept the truth about Beck to himself. And why he’d reached out to another Black instead of the brother who’d been at his side all along.
The reality that Chase hadn’t trusted him hit Holden like a punch in the gut.
“You look homeless.”
Holden jerked to awareness so abruptly that his neck spasmed as he looked up. Six was looming over him in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. He wore running shoes and a headband to keep back his man bun.
“And you look like Rocky Balboa goes hipsta-matic. What are you, doing a remake?”
Six didn’t crack a smile. “Why are you crying?”
Was he? Jesus. Holden ripped an arm over his face. “I’m not.”
“You are. I can see tears on your face. That was a stupid lie.”
“You know, Six, this would be an apt time to put those body-language-reading abilities to good use since your mental shield has also blocked off people skills.” Holden sniffled and wiped his face again. “For future reference, heckling someone who’s trying to hide their tears is generally not the sort of thing normal humans do.”
“I’m not a normal human. I’m an invulnerable.”
“Oh my God. Forget it.” Holden climbed to his feet, wincing. When had his knees become this much of a problem? He blamed the cold instead of his age. “Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
Holden froze with his hands poised to brush over his coat. “What?”
“I followed you to Elijah’s house. I was jogging now though, so this part is a coincidence. I live in a loft a couple of blocks away.”
“Wait. Rewind. Why the hell did you follow me to Elijah’s apartment?”
“To see what you were doing.”
Holden was going to kill him. He really was. “Why?”
“Because you seem emotionally unstable lately, and I wondered where you were going.”
“Again—why?”
Six shrugged. “I have nothing else to do.”
“So you just go around following people?” Holden demanded. “This is not okay.”
“Why? Was I not supposed to know you were meeting him?”
“You’re not supposed to be fucking following me,” Holden shouted, his voice carrying over the water. “Did my father put you up to this?”
“No.” Six scanned the area around them. With the exception of the cars speeding along the highway, there appeared to be nobody around for blocks. And yet he kept looking. “Let’s just say I wanted to make sure I’m the only one who was sent to keep an eye on you.”
Holden stopped wanting to throttle Six long enough to look at him sideways. “Excuse me?”
“I was given a job. That job was to keep you and your stupid club out of trouble.” Six stopped analyzing the desolate streets to meet Holden’s confused gaze. “Which means there should be no other Community thugs following you around the way they do your friends. You feel me?”
“I . . . No. I don’t.” Holden shook his head. “So you’re saying you followed me . . . to make sure nobody else was following me?”
“Yeah. Thanks for catching up.”
Holden flipped him off. “Your logic is completely off.”
“Maybe, but that’s how I operate.”
“What would you have done if you’d found out someone else was following me?”
“I would have found out why.”
“And would you have told me?”
Six started walking backward. “Yes.”
There was no reason in the world why Holden should have believed Six, but for some reason . . . he did.
“Let’s go,” Six said, turning. “It’s cold.”
“Where are we going?”
“To get something to eat.”
It was the most unexpected invitation Holden had ever received, but he took it without a second thought.