Seeker (Shadows) Read online

  SEEKER

  By Jolene Perry

  To the authors I grew up reading. Thank you for creating stories that took me out of my world, and endings that have stuck with me to this day.

  And FYI –

  I use a few terms from The Bahamas in here, so I’ll use one of their little sayings – Honk rhymes with Conch, and key rhymes with Caye… Conch is a shell, and Caye is an island – it just didn’t seem right to use our words when we could be in that part of the world.

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Next Door Books

  Copyright January 2013

  Cover photo by PHOTOCREO Michal Bednarek.

  Cover art by B Designs.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  PROLOGUE

  Micah

  My sides hurt from laughing. The last storm passed, and despite it being hurricane season, the weather today is about perfect. The sails are full, and we’re moving along at what my boyfriend, Landon, says is a good clip. If sailing weren’t still so new, I’m sure I’d complain about the snail’s pace we’re making compared to what a speedboat would do.

  “Okay. Try again.” Landon holds out his hand, his smile still huge and one of our new traveling companions, Dean, takes it.

  Landon frowns as he concentrates and then he jerks away laughing. “Well, that’s just mean!” he protests.

  Dean falls to sitting on the mesh net on the front of the boat—like a trampoline between the two pontoons that house our bedrooms below. He runs a hand through his shaggy dark hair as he relaxes back and leans onto his hands.

  “Couldn’t help it.” Dean smirks. “It’s not like either one of us have been able to make you guys do anything. Though, getting you to jump off your own boat was probably a long shot.”

  Addison and Dean’s talent of manipulating people doesn’t seem to work on Landon or I. It’s that I can feel the thought creeping in. I can even feel my body wanting to obey, but I don’t have to. I’m not sure it would be the same if I didn’t know it was coming—but so far, I have. And as much as I looked forward to boating with just Landon, I’ve never had a group of friends, so they’ve been a lot more than distraction—for me at least. I need distraction right now. Distraction from the unknown and the known. Being stalked by both The Middle Men, which we know almost nothing about, and the people who are smoky, moving shadows is terrifying and at times feels unreal. Then one of the shadow people will show up on the boat and it all feels way too real.

  Addison sits next to Dean leaning her head on his bare shoulder. In the few weeks they’ve been here, they’ve grown closer by the day, though I can’t imagine what it would be like to fall for someone who has the ability to manipulate the way they do. They’ve both spent their whole lives getting people to do small things for them, and I wonder if they sometimes accidentally put ideas in each others’ heads.

  Their gift has gotten us out of more than one round of questions at harbors, which has helped keep us away from The Middle Men. We’re heading south along the east coast of the U.S., though we still don’t know to exactly where. All four of us feel the need to keep going and keep running, so we are. The uncertainty is what’s killing me.

  Landon flops onto the trampoline next to Dean and Addison.

  We’ve all be practicing blocking each other’s gifts. Landon’s a shield, protecting us from being seen when we wish not to, and he also seems to make us all stronger. Though, with the addition of Dean and Addison, I have more control over my visions than I ever thought I’d have, so maybe it’s just the energy we all share. According to Addison’s little sister’s research, that’s exactly what it is.

  “Finally good weather!” Landon yells as he throws his arms in the air laughing.

  It’s been a problem since we left the Carolinas. We’ve spent as much time stopped and tied up weathering summer storms as sailing. Maybe more. It’s exhausting for Landon to use his gift to keep us hidden when we’re so still, but he does it. And so far, The Middle Men haven’t caught up since before we picked up Dean and Addie.

  After seeing how we’ll be treated by them if they take us, I want no part of whatever they want to “talk” about.

  Landon’s head cocks to the side as he looks at the mast.

  “Is it back?” I ask as another shiver slides through my body. I will never get used to the moving shadows that follow us.

  “It’s not that.” He leans further over as he squints near the rigging.

  My chest tightens as wariness settles in.

  “I think I see a way in,” he says as he steps up on the broad roof of the boat.

  My heart hammers. “A way into where?” Even though I know.

  Landon likes the shadows. Or at least doesn’t mind them nearly as much as the rest of us. He watches them move in and out of the dark line created by the mast and sometimes I swear he’s trying to communicate with them. He’ll sit there for an hour or more just watching.

  They’ve chased me through the woods, chased Dean and Addison from New York, and still they follow us. And still we don’t know why.

  “Keep away from there, Landon.” I tense up knowing how rash he can be.

  A shadow person steps out from the shadow created by the mast with its charcoal eyes on Landon. The edges of its shape are smoky and smudged, making them look like something out of a nightmare rather than my nearly daily life. I gasp as I almost always do because the idea of them is so foreign that it still doesn’t feel as if they could be real. The familiar fear ticks its way up my spine.

  Landon glances over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

  Oh, no. I shake my head not having any idea what he could be up to.

  A corner of his mouth quirks up. “You don’t trust me? My own girl doesn’t trust me?”

  “Because I know you’re about to do something stupid.” I move toward him and try to plead with my eyes. We both stand, staring, and I try to see into the future. Ahead. What will happen, but all I’m getting from him is now. It still unnerves me to “see” without touching, but just like everything else about my life with Landon on his boat, I’m getting used to it.

  Hopefulness. Eagerness. My worried eyes. Anticipation. I’m definitely seeing now.

  “I think we need them. Can use them. Or help them. Or they can help us. You know I don’t think they’re bad.” He’s practically begging for my okay, and that means that if I want him to stay, he will. But I’m not sure I can tell Landon no—especially not when I know how he feels.

  Every cell in my body wants to scream. Instead I say, “I don’t think this is a good idea.” The fact that it might not work doesn’t even cross my mind. If Landon sees a way in, I believe him.

  Landon takes one small step toward me, and I want to close the distance and ask him what he’s thinking, wrap my arms around him.

  “We need this. The information. We’re still traveling blind. I can do this. Please trust me.”

  “I trust you, Landon. It’s the shadows I don’t trust.” Worry continues to build, trying to suffocate me.

  “Don’t worry.” He winks. “I got this.”

  “But—”

  I don’t get to finish. Landon steps sideways, and I expect nothing to happen, but instead as he moves through a door that only he can see, I see nothing. In seconds he slides through an
d disappears from sight.

  I leap onto the top of the boat and wave my hands around where he vanished, but feel nothing. Not even the cold the shadows sometimes bring. My body goes numb as my legs go weak and my heart takes off. He just…stepped through something and completely disappeared?

  “Holy shit,” Dean whispers, and Addie stands stunned.

  This can’t be happening. He was just here. HERE. I wave my arms around again as if I’ll magically figure out how he moved through and squint at nothing. What did he see? How did he get through? How will he get back?

  “He’ll be okay.” Dean gives my back a quick pat, and I can feel him send the thought. Be calm.

  Right now I will it to work, but it doesn’t.

  “But we’re moving,” I protest. What if he’s left behind?

  Dean’s face holds a brief moment of panic before he shrugs. “We’re always moving and they seem to come and go without problem.”

  Addison steps up next to me as I stand, still staring at where Landon disappeared, her long dark hair blowing out behind her, and I’m still frozen to the spot.

  “It’ll be okay, Micah,” she whispers, only her voice shakes as much as I’m sure mine would.

  Dean’s white as a sheet, and Addie’s frozen. He takes her hand, and I know they’re talking the way only they can—without words.

  Dean clears his throat. “He’ll be fine. I’m going to check our heading.” And he steps down to the steering station.

  Addie gives me a careful pat on the back, which shows no vision aside from her and Dean together, and all I want to see is Landon, but I can’t. And without him here, I’m not sure I could force myself to see anything outside of the way my talent used to work—random with touch.

  I stare at where he disappeared, and try to see into the shadow created by the mast and the sail. He can’t have just gone. And if he did, there’s a part of me that wants to join him, if for nothing else than to bring him back.

  I step just under the mainsail, and the air cools slightly. A form slowly takes shape. The eyes are a bit blurry, but it’s definitely a shadow person. Heart hammering like metal on metal, I don’t run away this time, just stand and stare. They just took Landon, and I really want them to know how much I need him back. I wonder if there’s a way to convey that without words.

  “Please. I have to get him back,” I say, wondering again if they can hear anything we say.

  A hand of the shadow person reaches toward me slowly.

  No… My heart drops.

  “Landon?” Did they turn him into a shadow? Is that the only way in? And if so, how do you get out? But it’s impossible to tell. The edges of the shadows are like mist or smoke, not solid.

  A hand comes up, and I can just make out the sign language on the smoky edges of his fingers. “I love you.”

  Landon.

  The weight in my chest is nearly crippling. What does this mean? Is he saying goodbye or that he’s okay?

  “I need more from you. Can you come back? When will you be back?” My voice is desperate, but I don’t care at the moment. I just want him here and not there.

  I hold my hand to his, but all I can feel is cold. I try to grasp him, but there’s nothing to grasp, just a thin layer of smoky ash on my hand.

  “Take me with you!” I yell.

  Landon shakes his head and touches my cheek with a cold, smoky finger.

  And just as quickly as his shadow appeared, he slides back into the darkest part of the mast’s shadow, and I follow the subtle twitching of darkness as it travels toward the water.

  Dread fills me as I wonder if the last picture in my mind I have of Landon will be the blurry, smoky edges of something that doesn’t look real. The thought tears at me. And as it hits me that he’s really not here anymore, my legs give out, and I fall to sitting on the deck wishing I’d have begged him not to go.

  ONE

  Kara

  The Middlemen work because we work outside of boundaries. Outside of government boundaries, political boundaries, company boundaries. We are our own entity, and as I flip through the electronic file of Landon Michaels, I have to wonder if these four people have any idea how idiotic they’re being.

  And Landon. I’ve watched him since I was a kid, knowing at some point he’d probably join us. His father didn’t see any signs of his gift until Micah moved in next door, but I knew when I met him as a kid that Landon had a brilliant talent. Landon’s lack of a gift probably wouldn’t have affected the way I watched him—though, talented is better. I can’t imagine being with someone…normal.

  “We’ll be there in just a few minutes, Kara.” The driver’s voice comes through the speaker into the back of the car.

  I hate it when a car is sent for me. I’d much rather drive myself—even though I’ve been traveling for weeks.

  I scan the pictures of the four faces again. Addison and Landon should have joined the Middlemen for sure. Their fathers basically gave up the strength of their abilities to help recruit and keep us in the business and political world. Many of our new recruits have parents who allowed themselves to be separated from others with abilities, knowing theirs would fade.

  Dean and Micah weren’t even on our radar. Without parental involvement, or contact with others like us, their talents weren’t strong enough to be worth collecting. Micah’s dad’s talent is mediocre at best, so we planned on ignoring her. Dean didn’t exist to us at all until he hooked up with Addison Prince.

  Too bad I don’t have interview transcripts of what was spoken of between Senator Michaels, who is Landon’s dad, and Mr. Prince, who is Addison’s father. Both would be helpful—give me some kind of idea how to bring the four subjects in. Well. If I’m given the assignment.

  As I glance over the face of Landon Michaels again, I really hope that even if I’m not given the assignment, he comes in to work with us. Landon and I are the same age, and I’ve only met him once, but the promise of him joining us is always there, despite the current girlfriend (it’s not like he hasn’t had his share of girls). And I know his dad. Well.

  I sigh as I flip through the logs detailing the several accounts over the past month to get in contact with Landon. He’s ditched his cell phone and he’s so much more talented than he realizes, because we can’t find a sailboat. It’s not like he’s super speedy, but we can’t catch engine noise either, so maybe he’s planning a lot more carefully than he let on to his dad. If I do get the assignment, I’ll need to contact the Senator before moving in on them.

  And now that they’re together? Three different gifts, in such a small space? Their energy is just going to feed off each other, and pretty soon they might actually be a force to be reckoned with. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen. Well, hopefully my job after the several failed attempts by people who have been doing this a lot longer than I have. Eighteen years of age doesn’t exactly put me in the top ranks of The Middle Men—especially when dealing with catching people. We’d never want to be seen as anything but a good opportunity for an interesting job, so bringing people in needs to be done carefully. And keeping them in needs to be done even more carefully. Or by force, but that Mom’s area of expertise.

  My phone rings and I snatch it up, sometimes really hating that my parents run this organization.

  “Yes?” I try not to snap.

  “I can feel your brain wheels turning from here. I see you’re about five minutes out, still.” Dad’s voice is patient, as always, and I think again that if he’d let Mom take over more often, The Middle Men could accomplish a lot more—spread our influence more widely. She isn’t afraid to go ahead with risky decisions. Like Dad doesn’t touch American politics outside of minor backdoor dealings with Senator Michaels, and I know Mom would be willing to cash in there if Dad was cool with it. It all comes down to how much force they’re willing to use to keep the organization secret. Mom’s willing to make riskier dealings, because she doesn’t have a problem with using force. Dad… Not so much.

&nbs
p; “About five minutes. Yes.” I only half listen to him as I look through the partial phone logs on my computer, and any information that could be the key to finding the sailboat.

  If those four had come to talk with us the first time, we wouldn’t be trying to simply arrest them to talk. But we only survive on secrecy, and they’re about to blow it.

  A couple hundred years ago, my gift was considered one of the weaker ones, but with the way The Middle Men has grown, people who can seek out talents the way I can have become imperative. We’re both the collectors of new talent, and police the talent that we’ve already collected. No one else could. Insighters can see us coming, and Manipulators could tell us we don’t want to be there. Shields can slow me down. But Seekers, as Mom puts it, see through all the BS, and do what needs to be done.

  We also have to be the best at blocking the talents of everyone else. It’s the perfect job for someone like me—structured and methodical with room for creative hunting.

  I hold my breath waiting for Dad to tell me why he called when I’m so clearly almost there.

  “You’re one of our most talented Seekers,” he begins.

  “So, I have it, right?” I ask, still holding my breath and doing everything in my power to sound normal and like I don’t care.

  “Yes. You have it.” He chuckles. “We’ll see you in a few.”

  I hang up and let my grin spread before I need to put my game face back on.

  I itch all over with the desire to be put on their trail.

  Seeker. It’s what I do best.

  ***

  The south Florida air hits me with hot dampness as I step out of the car. We’re set up in a two hundred year old estate, which I grew up on. The driveway is more like a parking lot, but we like to keep the numbers low. It’s a lot of energy for one household, even though all of The Middle Men need to be here at different times. With barely over a hundred of us in total, it’s not too difficult, but I’m also glad it’s not my job to manage everyone.