mindjack 04 - origins Page 10

  “You know how I promised to keep out of your head?” She gave me a wicked smile. “I don’t always keep that promise.”

  I narrowed my eyes, crouched, and lunged for her again. This time she let me catch her.

  Probably because I had decided to kiss her after all.

  If you haven't read Free Souls, I HIGHLY recommend you read that next (to avoid spoilers).

  Book Three of the Mindjack Trilogy

  When your mind is a weapon, freedom comes at a price.

  Four months have passed since Kira left home to join Julian’s Jacker Freedom Alliance, but the hole in her heart still whistles empty where her boyfriend Raf used to be. She fills it with weapons training, JFA patrols, and an obsessive hunt for FBI agent Kestrel, ignoring Julian’s worries about her safety and repeated attempts to recruit her for his revolutionary chat-casts. When anti-jacker politician Vellus surrounds Jackertown with the National Guard, Kira discovers there’s more to Julian’s concerns than she knew, but she’s forced to take on a mission that neither want and that might be her last: assassinating Senator Vellus before he can snuff out Julian’s revolution and the jackers she’s come to love.

  Keeper is a short novella told from Kira's point of view and takes place in the time period between Closed Hearts and Free Souls. Originally, my plan was to write a trilogy of girls' pov novellas to accompany the boys' pov novellas, but that has yet to come to pass (although you'll see a snippet of Anna's point of view in the BONUS flash fiction included in this collection). I may yet write those additional novellas, once I circle back to writing Mindjack again. But don't hold your breath! I need to finish my Singularity series first.

  Summary: Seventeen-year-old Kira Moore is determined to be part of the second-chance mission to free her fellow mindjackers from FBI Agent Kestrel's secret prison, but Jacker Freedom Alliance leader Julian believes she's too valuable to risk in the operation.

  My arms quiver, but I force myself to finish the tenth pushup.

  “All right, Kira, that’s enough,” Anna says, as if she wasn’t the one who ordered me to do them. She has three inches and thirty pounds of muscle on me. The urban camouflage pants hang from her hips like she was born wearing them, and her black t-shirt is barely rumpled from our hour-long session.

  I scramble up, dusting the training-floor grime from my hands and acting as if I’m not hopelessly outclassed in sparring with her. Anna is the head of operations for her twin brother Julian’s nascent mindjacker army—we’re only a dozen jackers strong at the moment, but Anna’s bent on whipping us all into shape. She and Julian are convinced a war is coming: one where jackers will be forced to fight the world of mindreaders simply for the right to exist. And I’m determined to be ready when it happens.

  Sasha, Julian’s right hand man, smirks from the edge of the training area, his normal sullenness apparently lost to high amusement at my expense. “Are you sure I can’t sell tickets?” he asks. “I’m certain I could make money off this.” He waves a hand encompassing me, Anna, and the thin floor mats we’ve been training on. Anna has marked off this small patch of Julian’s abandoned-door-factory-turned-revolutionary-headquarters for combatants only… and no one crosses her lines. Not even Sasha, whose ability to scribe, or rewrite, minds makes even the strongest jackers give him wide berth.

  “Just because you like watching Anna wipe the floor with me,” I say, “doesn’t mean anyone else would be interested.” I shake out my arms, still aching from seven sets of pushups and an hour of trying to prove I’m ready for our upcoming mission. I take a fighting stance opposite Anna, but she just examines me with a cool black-eyed stare. Probably figuring out which body part has been left unbruised.

  Sasha breaks into a full smile. “Oh, I can think of a few people who might want to watch a little keeper-on-keeper action.” The way he says it pulls a flush to my already heated face. It is unusual to have two people with impenetrable minds—keepers, as Julian likes to call us, because we can keep our thoughts private—in the same room together, much less engaged in hand-to-hand combat training.

  I don’t want to think about who Sasha might be referring to, but an image of our dark-haired revolutionary leader swims up through my thoughts anyway. I shove it away. I’m still getting those strange, unbidden, and entirely inappropriate thoughts about Julian—ever since he manipulated my mating instinct, of all things, to engineer an escape from Kestrel’s prison. I’ve forgiven Julian for that—mostly—but the hot flashes keep coming back.

  I’m afraid he’s done something permanent to my brain.

  I relax my stance and glare at Sasha, even though it’s not his fault. “Maybe I should tell girlfriend about your keen interest in watching girl fights?”

  Ava won’t care, but Sasha stays far from anything that might make her jealous. He returns to scowling. It’s a much better look for him. He turns his back on us and strides away.

  I’m still not quite sure where I stand with him. On the one hand, Sasha blames me for outing jackers everywhere and sparking the crackdowns that make Julian’s resistance movement necessary. On the other hand, Sasha helped rescue my mindreader boyfriend, Raf, which counts for a lot, even if I never really got Raf back. His memories were already shredded—everything that was us was gone. All I have left is an empty space where my heart used to be… and a burning need to find the FBI agent and jacker tormenter ultimately responsible: Kestrel.

  Sasha and I at least agree on that: every jacker in Julian’s revolution wants Kestrel’s head.

  What they don’t know is I plan to get there first.

  “Kira.” Anna’s voice makes me twitch.

  I jerk my attention back to her. “I’m ready.”

  She’s circling me now, back in training mode. I need to prove I’m truly ready, not just to spar, but for the real mission. It’s been weeks since our miserable failed attempt to liberate the jackers in Kestrel’s prison the first time. Julian made us lay low afterward, worried about the backlash that an open assault might bring. But he’s finally given the green light for another op. Another chance to stop Kestrel and his experimental jacker torture chambers once and for all. And I need to be part of it.

  Anna gestures with her chin to me, her dark eyes never losing contact with mine. “The pushups may make your muscles tired, but you don’t need muscle power. You should be using the minimum force necessary to neutralize your attacker.”

  “I don’t plan on using minimum force when I catch up with Kestrel.”

  “You’ll have a chance at close-combat training later,” she says. “For now, you need to master some basic self-defense moves. They will help you stay alive long enough to complete a mission.”

  “Right.” I fall into a fighting stance again. “We’re still on for next week, right?”

  “If Sasha can scribe some of the workers to help us get past security, yes,” she says. “It’s still uncertain if we can do that without detection, but surveillance is tracking the staff.” Surveillance means Ava, Julian’s long-distance super-jacker. She can reach with her mind to places I can only dream about, including tracking Kestrel’s prison staff all over Chicago New Metro. Kestrel’s prison masquerades as a psychiatric hospital, so there are nurse, guards, and even regular janitorial workers on staff. Ava’s looking for just the right combination of personnel for Sasha to scribe: they’ll still appear to be working for Kestrel on the outside, but on the inside Sasha will rewrite them into being jacker sympathizers. Plan A relies on them letting us stroll in the front door, break out the jackers held in cells and medical bays, and walk back out again.

  “I still like Plan B better,” I say, keeping my gaze on Anna’s hands, watching for the next move that will land me on the floor.

  “A frontal assault will draw more notice.”

  “It will make a statement,” I point out, knowing she has as much influence on the actual operational plans as her brother. “And Julian likes to blow things up.”

  “Using munitions on the front gate won�
��t convince Julian to put you on the roster.”

  No, I think. But it will put him in a better mood. That thought brings up another flush, like Julian’s mood is more important to me than it should be. I stuff that feeling down the black hole that sits in my chest, the empty space where Raf’s love used to live.

  Thank God Anna can’t read my thoughts. “You could convince him to put me on the roster.”

  “Julian doesn’t want you anywhere near the operation. It would put you at risk, and you’re too valuable of an asset,” she says. “It’s a tactical decision.”

  “It’s a stupid decision.” My burning need to go after Kestrel isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone knows I want him dead for what he’s done—Julian better than most. But he has this warped idea that I somehow need protecting. It’s as if he’s saving me for something special. Later. But I want Kestrel taken out now. And I don’t trust anyone else to get that job done.

  “Besides,” Anna says, giving a small shake of her head, “you’re not ready.”

  “I am ready.” I curl my fists, in case she uses that distraction to prove her point. “And you need my skills on the mission. I can’t reach as far as Ava, but she can only link in. I can get a kill jack at a greater distance than any other jacker you’ve got. Plus I know the layout of Kestrel’s facility better than anyone—”

  “I’m not the one you have to convince, Kira.”

  I let out a huff of frustration that doesn’t make me feel any better. “I’m not going to get… hurt or killed or whatever it is Julian’s worried about.” I point a closed fist at her. “That’s why I’m letting you give me bruises in places I didn’t know I owned. If you tell Julian I’m in fighting form, then I promise to stay out of trouble. I’ll use minimum force,” I say, lying through my teeth, “jack from a distance, whatever mission parameters you lay out, I’ll adhere to them.”

  “I’m all for deploying force when necessary.” She dashes forward, grabs my arm, and tucks it close under her arm. She holds the position, waiting for me to respond, but any way I move, my arm’s going to break.

  I jerk backward, trying to slip out of her grip, even though I know it’s useless.

  “You’re shorter than your opponent,” she says calmly. “Your advantage is close in.”

  I should know this already—we just went over it.

  I push forward, unbalancing her enough that I can curl my arm and grapple with her so she can’t get rid of me. Then I try to throw one of the tight jabs she taught me, but she rotates, spinning out of my clumsy attempt to hit her. As she moves, she somehow lifts me off my feet without breaking my arm. I’m tumbling to the mat again before I realize what’s happened.

  I lay there, sprawled, for a moment, beating back my urge to growl out my frustration. Then I climb to my feet, slower this time. I feel it, the checkerboard of bruises I’m going to have tomorrow, in every small movement.

  “Get close to your much bigger opponent,” I mimic her. “That obviously works for me.”

  “A larger opponent has more than size on their side,” she says, her voice neutral. “They have the fear factor as well. Most attackers will naturally use threats or intimidation first, resorting to physical violence last. But your fear is your ally in a fight.”

  “You realize that makes no sense at all, right?” I brush the dust from my cargo pants.

  “Fear will make your body tense. Your reflexes will sharpen. As long as you expect it and don’t allow it to control you, fear will prime your body to defend itself—or to withstand a blow and continue fighting. Fear heightens your attention, brings your instinct for survival to the fore. Don’t resist it. Use it to your advantage.”

  Advantage. Years of combat training and an unnatural addiction to pushups have given Anna a ridiculous physical advantage. We both have impenetrable minds—so we’re equally matched there. Although… perhaps not quite as equal as it appears. We’re both keepers, but I have one ability that, so far, Anna hasn’t given any indication she shares.

  I can manipulate my own mind.

  I first discovered it in Kestrel’s cells, pumping up my heart rate to fight off the mind-numbing gas he uses to keep jackers sedated. Since coming to Jackertown to join Julian’s revolution a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been toying with that ability. Studying it. Then yesterday I accidentally discovered a trigger in my head that unleashed a torrent of adrenaline throughout my body. It heightened my perception, narrowed my focus, pumped up my breathing and heart rate… and completely freaked me out. I shut it off before it went too far. And I haven’t told anyone else about it because, well, because I wasn’t quite sure I could do it again.

  I didn’t properly explore the effects of the adrenaline before, but from what I’ve heard, it’s also supposed to make you hyper strong—maybe strong enough to throw a punch that would make Anna sit up and take notice. It could be just the advantage I need to convince her I’m ready.

  Now seems like a good time to find out.

  “Ok, fear,” I say to her. “It’s my friend. Got it.” I stretch my arms overhead, pretending to work out the kinks, but I’m actually concentrating on diving deep into my own mind. I focus my gaze on a small scuff of dirt at the top of Anna’s black t-shirt. “Let’s go again,” I say, but I pull all my attention inward, reaching inside my own mind just like I’m jacking into someone else’s. I push past the normal thoughts and emotions that tumble through my head, past the parts that hold memories and control basic bodily functions like heart rate, down to a deeper level.

  It’s a mess down there.

  Like a plate of spaghetti exploded in my head: connections string all throughout my mind, tethering one wide-flung part to another. I have no idea what they all do, but I stumble around until I find one that feels… familiar. I follow the string—

  “Maybe we should stop.” Anna’s voice jerks me back out of my head.

  “What? No, I’m fine.” I blink and try to focus again. I just need a few more seconds to follow the string and reach the part that will trigger the adrenaline release.

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “You seem distracted.”

  “I’m good.” I circle her, focusing on that dirt scuff like my life depends on it. Inside my head, I’ve got the string again. The one that leads me straight to the adrenaline center of my mind. I pluck the neural string, and a signal cascades out, like a mini electrical storm in my brain. I feel it immediately: chemicals gush into my blood stream and race throughout my body. It’s like the fear that Anna talked about, only it’s all under my control: a vibrating energy, trembling throughout my body, just waiting for me to unleash it.

  I’m watching the dirt scuff on her shirt, but my adrenaline-heightened perception shows me the minute muscle flinch in her shoulders before she moves.

  I block Anna’s jab, knocking her arm aside. Her eyes widen slightly as I move in close, grabbing her shirt and yanking her forward, off balance. I land a punch to her gut, probably the strongest one I’ve ever thrown, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through my arm and finding release in my fist. I expect it to throw her back. Or double her over.

  Something.

  Instead it’s like I’ve hit a brick wall.

  The pain in my fist barely registers before she’s a flurry of motion. I feel hits in three places practically all at once. She has an arm around my neck before I can even react. Then I’m bent in half and wrenched over her hip. She releases me in time to let me fall to the mat.

  Again.

  I lie on my back, squeeze my eyes shut, and slam my fists into the floor at my sides. Blood pumps in angry bursts through my palms. I don’t think I even made her flinch—

  “Sleeping on the job, I see.”

  Julian’s voice sends a jolt through me. My eyes pop open, and I wince. He’s shown up at exactly the worst possible time. I fight the protest of my aching muscles to haul myself up from the floor as quickly as I can.

  “Just getting some pointers from Anna.” I force myself to keep a straight fac
e as I look up into his dark, smiling eyes. My heart does a small lurch as the smile works its way out to a corner of his mouth. I tell myself it’s just the adrenaline still coursing through my system, and not that he’s damaged my brain in some way that makes my body react every time I have his attention.

  He flicks a look to his sister. “I’ve been on the receiving end of a few of those pointers myself.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “It only hurts for a few days afterward, keeper.” The soft way he calls me keeper and the secret smile he gives me both do a number on my stomach.

  I pull back. “Sounds like you should hit the training room more often.”

  He grins, not at all fooled.

  “Kira’s actually an exceedingly fast learner,” Anna says.

  I send her a grateful look while Julian’s head is turned toward her.

  “Is that right?” he asks her.

  Anna levels a suspicious look in my direction, maybe wondering how I landed even that one punch. “She has some interesting skills. And the determination to make the most of them.”

  I’m glowing under her words when Julian turns back to me.

  “That’s some high praise from my sister,” he says with a smile. “Not that I expected anything less from you.”

  I give a quick nod. “You can count on me, boss. I’m all ready for the mission.”

  His normally creamy-brown face darkens. “We discussed this.”

  I step closer to him, lowering my voice. “Not every jacker in Kestrel’s facility is going to be friendly to our cause, Julian. And some of them will be half crazy from the sedation. You need someone who can handle them. Anna can lead the way, but you’ll need more than one keeper to keep things under control. You really do need me on this mission.”

  “I need you in one piece after the mission,” he says coolly. “And I’m not convinced that your highest priority would be to come back that way.”

  “I’ll be careful, I swear.” I gesture to Anna, who has turned away, shaking her head, already conceding the fight. “See? Anna thinks I’m ready—”