The Reader Read online

  “I don’t care if you kill a cow. If I hear anymore yammering out of you three, we head right back for the lodge. You hear me?” He stood with arms crossed.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. He fell back into position, and I continued talking to my parents in a lowered voice. “I knew it was a possibility when I had the meeting with the Elders. If I’m able to rid the world of the Jacks and make sure Devon and the rest of the Readers live, I can deal with it. I’m all right, really.”

  Mom’s lip trembled, and she took rapid breaths.

  I hugged each one to reassure them. “Your job was to protect me. But my destiny is to protect the Readers. It’ll be okay.”

  “What are the details of the plan?” my dad asked.

  “Part of my agreement with the Elders is to never speak of the plan.” I lowered my voice even more. “A precaution, but it’s probably not a bad idea. If I can accomplish what I need, there’ll be some changes, so can you go with the flow? I’ll try to warn you right before.”

  We’d walked about a half-mile when the guard’s communicating device beeped. He removed it from his waistband. “Yes. I understand. I’ll bring her right away.”

  The guard approached us. “We’ll need to get back to the lodge. The High Priest has arrived.”

  The trek back was silent and somber. My parents’ expressions were both sad and resigned. The vision of Devon on the beach with a child in his arms gave me a sense of peace. It also filled me with sadness to know it most likely wasn’t our child, and another woman would take my place. I turned away and wiped the stray tear that had escaped. He’d live and love again. He’d be happy. It was enough. It had to be.

  Sometimes you have to fight for love.

  “Mom? Was that you?”

  She smiled and said, “Keep your eyes open.”

  I hugged her back. “I love you.”

  I watched my mom and dad walk hand-in-hand back into their cabin.

  Now, I needed to get to work. First up, the guard escorting me back to the lodge. I concentrated my thoughts and focused on him.

  The Readers know the location of the lodge. They plan to attack on Saturday.

  He became rigid, stopping right before we started up the steps. His head swung from side to side, perhaps looking for intruders.

  The Readers are on their way. You must leave.

  “Come with me. Hurry.” He wiped his brow and started up the stairs. Once inside, the guard greeted Archer and his mom. “May I approach the High Priest? I have news.”

  The group turned to look at me. I played innocent and shrugged.

  “Does this have anything to do with Ann?” Archer asked.

  “No. It’s about the Readers.”

  The man, who was no doubt the High Priest, stood across the room and examined our group with an intense, penetrating stare. He appeared to be around eighteen years old, wearing an elaborate white robe with intricate stitching and lace.

  What caught my attention, though, was the three-foot-tall, stiff, white hat perched on his head. For goodness’ sake, could he be any more unoriginal?

  The Pope wannabe sauntered over to our group. He gave a slight nod, as if I were below his rank. “Miss Baker.”

  “Hey.”

  Archer and Atarah went still and stared at me with their wide eyes. I guess that wasn’t respectful enough for them.

  “You may call me High Priest Cyneric.”

  “Sure thing,” I said. I’d be pushing a few of his buttons before this was said and done. Who said I couldn’t go out in a blaze of glory and bring him down a few notches at the same time? And, right now, it gave me great satisfaction to watch his pompous face turn red.

  Atarah spoke. “I’m sorry, Your Most Holy. She has been out of sorts since her arrival.”

  An understatement.

  Time to get into that pontifical head of his. I focused on him and thought over and over. This place has negative energy. The union cannot be performed here.

  The guard approached. “High Priest Cyneric, I have news.”

  “You may speak.”

  “I’ve been told the Readers know of our location and are planning an attack on Saturday. We must evacuate as soon as possible.”

  He breathed in deeply and said, “Yes, I felt it. What are our alternatives?”

  “What do you mean?” Atarah burst out. “Everything is planned. The entire Jack community is either on their way or will be in a matter of hours.”

  His nostrils flared. “I said, this place won’t do.”

  Atarah folded her hands and cast her eyes to the floor. “I beg your forgiveness, Your Most Holy.”

  Again, I focused my energy on the High Priest’s thoughts. A place where Ann was happy.

  “For the spiritual bonding to take hold, Miss Baker needs an environment where she’s comfortable.”

  Wow. I almost believed the thought came from him.

  Atarah rubbed her forehead. “We can’t go back to her family home. There isn’t enough room. The Seers’ vision said the bond had to be witnessed by every single Jack.”

  “I know what the Seers predicted,” he bellowed.

  She drew back and stood behind a quiet Archer.

  “She was comfortable at Samara,” Archer said. “And the reports said the Readers scattered once they found out we were both gone.” He rubbed his jaw. “I can gain access even if they changed the codes. I was the one who programmed it.”

  The High Priest turned to me. “Is it true? Were you comfortable there?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  Archer’s expression didn’t change. Was he suspicious about the possible change of venue?

  The High Priest clapped his hands. “It’s settled. We’ll move the ceremony there. Alert all the Jacks who’ve started their travels so they can reroute.”

  “I’ll get on that.” Archer left the room.

  Now, how to get Atarah to go along? Yes, that might work. Focus. The bonding ceremony will take place in their precious Samara, right under their noses.

  Atarah stiffened and tapped a finger against her lips. Her eyes darted to me and narrowed.

  My face remained perfectly bland as I met her stare. I could control that, but my heart almost pounded out of my chest.

  I concentrated with everything in me. I’ll show those Readers who’s won.

  Atarah smiled and said. “I love the idea of having the ceremony in the Readers’ beloved home.”

  On the trip back to North Bend, I asked Archer, “Where will the ceremony be held? In the Hub?”

  “That’s the plan. We won’t be able to fit everyone in there, so we’ll have live links broadcast into all the other rooms. Only the higher dignitaries will get placement in the Hub.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Jacks who’ve risen through the ranks either through their original birthright or by . . .” He paused and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “What?”

  “By how many Readers they’ve been able to kill.”

  “That’s . . . that’s horrible.” I rubbed my eyes. Would this car ride ever end?

  “It’s the way it is. Remember, you’re part Jack, just like me.”

  “Just because you have Jack blood doesn’t make you a bad person. Your choices in life define who you are.” I was living proof. I had Jack blood running through my veins, but I’d never be like them.

  “I regret it.” He glanced over at me from the driver’s side of the Jeep.

  I didn’t acknowledge him.

  “Markus. I regret what I did.”

  “Why? You plan to kill all the rest. What difference does killing Markus make?” The bitterness came through.

  “I would change everything if I could. My mom and I had this plan for thousands of years, and I’ve been caught up in it. After I met you, things started to change. I changed. But it was too late. I didn’t know how to switch sides. And . . . I couldn’t let my mom die. I want both of you to live.”

  “You made your choices a
long time ago, Archer.” I turned away.

  I didn’t speak to him for the rest of the car ride. I couldn’t fathom the prospect of receiving another mind-wipe and living in ignorance for the rest of my life. Cold fingers of fear crawled up my spine. No, not going to happen.

  Bittersweet. I was home, at the compound, but it wasn’t the same. The heart was gone, replaced with teeming insects that called themselves Jacks. They were everywhere, and with them, emptiness had replaced the happiness.

  When I lived with the Readers, there were three-hundred-forty-three of us. Now, over five thousand Jacks crammed into Samara. Three-hundred-fifty-thousand square feet built into the mountain. Impressive, but now overcrowded.

  Somehow Archer had arranged for my parents and me to share my old room in an attempt to make me feel more “comfortable,” something considered important by the High Priest. What a joke.

  “Ann, honey, can I get you anything?” my mom asked.

  “Just something so I don’t throw up on Atarah when she comes for the dress fitting.”

  “That woman drives me crazy, and I’m not even plagued with reading her thoughts. There’s some poetic justice in the fact the Jacks can’t fully rid themselves of the souls they’ve captured.”

  “Yeah, well, try reading her thoughts. It’s a mess in there.”

  “Your talent shouldn’t be wasted on them.” Her gaze was unblinking for a moment, almost as if she were trying to form an alternate plan. I knew this couldn’t happen. This was my destiny.

  I needed to distract her. “So, the Readers can pick up the Jacks thoughts, but only from the dominant soul?”

  “All this time, we believed the Jacks killed their human’s soul. Your discovery is quite the revelation. I doubt there’s anything you can’t do.” She smoothed my hair back. “Ann . . .”

  “There isn’t any other way, Mom.”

  The door burst open. “I’m here with your beautiful dress!” Atarah announced.

  Hideous. I should have guessed after seeing the atrocious room she prepared for me at the lodge. The thing was stiff enough to stand on its own. A confection of white lace and frills, it spanned about ten feet wide and twenty long.

  After dragging it in, she held it up with reverence, like it was some holy artifact. I took it from her hands and pulled it into the bathroom after me. If I could flush it down the toilet, I would. But I reminded myself to play along in order to carry out the plan.

  My mom came to help me into it. Once she had it zipped, our eyes met in the mirror. A marshmallow covered in lace and sequins was the best way to describe me. I put my hand over my mouth, and we broke into uncontrollable giggles.

  “It’s absurd!” My mom wiped her eyes.

  Pain and hilarity pulled at my emotions. I hugged her through the frills. “Thank you, Mom. Thanks for making me laugh when, well, this moment could have been bad.”

  “What’s going on in there?” Atarah pounded on the door. “You better not be doing anything to that dress. It cost over two hundred thousand dollars!”

  “No way,” I said, and we burst into another round of hilarity. Maybe it was nervous laughter, but I didn’t care. At the end, I hugged her and said, “Thanks again, Mom.”

  “I wish . . .”

  “I know.” We both wiped tears of laughter and sadness from our eyes.

  We joined Atarah and her seamstress in the living room. “Look at that—it fits perfectly.” The seamstress clapped her hands.

  That is the most God-awful dress I’ve ever seen, Atarah’s bothersome human roommate thought.

  I bit the inside of my cheek in an effort to stop myself from agreeing with her.

  Shut up. After this is over, I’ll make sure you pay for trying to interfere with me, Atarah thought.

  I’m tired of your threats. Maybe I’ll find a way to take over and tell Archer you’re not his real mother.

  My eyes darted up to her, and she caught me staring. I needed to cover. “What shoes will I wear?”

  She didn’t answer and studied me.

  She knows, the human soul thought.

  “You are not to see Archer before the ceremony,” Atarah said.

  I shrugged. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  She doesn’t know. You’re only trying to cause trouble, as usual, Atarah scolded the human.

  I let out a sigh. That was close. I grabbed my mom, scurried into the bathroom to remove my dress, and slipped on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

  I left the dress hanging over the shower rod and moved back into the living room, where I continued my bluff and asked the seamstress, “Are these shoes all right?” I held up the flats I’d been wearing.

  She dismissed my comment with a wave of her hand. “Yes, that’ll be fine. They won’t show anyway.”

  After they left, I grabbed my mom by the shoulders. “You’ll never believe this, but that’s not even Archer’s mom. She’s a fraud!”

  “What?” Her mouth dropped open.

  “I heard them arguing right before they left. I can’t believe it. How do you think she pulled it off?”

  “Jacks always have to change their form. She probably got all the information about Archer from his real mom. For all we know, she could’ve murdered the real Atarah to set up this entire thing. I’ll tell you, every single one of those Jacks are ruthless.”

  “Should I tell Archer? I guess it doesn’t matter now. But his life is based on a lie.”

  “Tell me what?”

  I turned and came face-to-face with Archer.

  My heart began to race. “How’d you get in here?”

  “I’m programmed in, remember? What did you mean, my life is a lie?”

  I steadied myself. “You’ve done all this . . .” I gestured around. “For an imposter. She’s a Jack posing as your mom. She might have even murdered your real mother. I heard her. I can read her thoughts.”

  “No.” The color drained from his face as he digested my words. “I would know something like that.”

  “Can you read her thoughts?” I asked.

  “No, we both can block. But, even without that, because I’m half Reader my powers aren’t as strong.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Have you ever doubted her?” I asked. There had to have been slips along the way.

  “Sure. But I always believed her memory lapses were due to the change from body to body. But . . .” He stared down at his hands.

  “You remember something?”

  He met my eyes. “It can’t be. How long ago would it have been?”

  “The switch probably took place during the war. It was a confusing time for all of us,” my mom said.

  He frowned and rubbed his forehead. All the little doubts must be creeping back in.

  The door swung open again. “There you are, Archer. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Atarah turned toward me, shaking her forefinger. “Ann, you naughty girl. I told you no visiting until the union.” She noticed our expressions. Her faced reddened. “She’s lying. Don’t trust anything she says!”

  Archer turned slowly and faced her. “What would she lie about, Mom?” He drew out the last word.

  “Every . . . everything,” she stuttered.

  “I’ve always wanted to ask you a question.” His voice was dead-like and calm. “What’s the name of my first stuffed animal? You know, the one I carried with me as a child?”

  “Just go! I know you’re planning something. I’ll hold her here.” Archer had the con artist posing as his mother pinned in the kitchen.

  “Mom. Get Dad and go through the escape route we talked about. You have ten minutes, twenty tops. Can you do it?” I asked.

  “Yes, but, Ann, maybe . . . maybe . . . there’s another way.” Her eyes pleaded with mine.

  “The Elders trained me for this. No one else can do it. I’m sorry, Mom.” I rubbed her shoulder. “Promise me you’ll get Dad and hurry, okay? If we take too long, the Jacks will notice we’re gone and flee.”

  “Let me go!�
�� Atarah screeched. “I love you more than any mother. Your real mom was a whiny, weak woman. She could never accomplish what I have. Think of our plans. We can rule the Jacks. Don’t back out now. She’ll destroy us!” Archer held her firmly against the counter.

  I gave my mom one last squeeze.

  “I’m honored to be your mother,” she said with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Please tell everyone I love them and I’m sorry.” Devon. Could a heart actually break? My death would crush him.

  “Ann!” Archer yelled.

  I stopped at the door and turned.

  “Is it a bomb?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “It’s okay, I knew this was a possibility.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “My dad. I’d planned to stop you. But now . . . I’ll stay here and make sure my—this Jack doesn’t interfere. Tell everyone I’m sorry.”

  “Archer?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You have ten minutes.” After all he’d done, I still couldn’t let him die.

  “I love you, Ann.” His voice broke. “I’ll stay here if I have to.” He kept hold of his fake mother but bent over the counter like he was in extreme pain.

  My eyes closed. He believed he was sacrificing his life to save mine. He didn’t know my plan to detonate the bomb on site. My stomach sank but I continued.

  Out of time. “Thank-you.” I turned and ran.

  Ten, twenty minutes max, was all I had to sprint to the furnace room where the Elders had placed the bomb. The first hallway I dashed down was clear. A large group of Jacks from England filled the second hallway. I’d noticed them before, stuck in their clique with their conversations about everything being ‘bloody’ this and ‘bloody’ that. They loitered in the hallway, clasping china cups filled with what I assumed was hot tea.

  Great. I’d have to weave through each one like some bloody obstacle course. Another irony I wouldn’t have time to think about.

  Each access point caused me panic right before placing my hand on the pad. When the doors clicked open, I said a prayer of thanks.

  I got to the last door and a familiar voice called, “Miss Baker. Wait!”