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B3 - Chapter 18: A Russian Mole

  Terry watched as his mother rewrote the last ten minutes in Tomás’ mind, a heavy anger brewing in his chest. After the years of manipulation during his own childhood, he loathed the idea of his mother messing with people’s brains. But this time, his anger wasn’t directed at her, but at himself.

  It was his fault she had to do damage control now, not just on Tomás but on dozens of others. A part of him had wanted to speak up, tell her that the revelation of his powerset was his own responsibility and he wouldn’t allow her to affect minds for his mistake.

  But he didn’t…

  He had still been analyzing his own thoughts, deciding on his options, when his mother had started on Tomás. And according to her, she had already taken the liberty of affecting the onlookers.

  Now, as she finished altering Tomás’ memories, a profound sense of wrongness began to take hold of him. He felt it, too, in the set of Ellie’s lips and her crossed-arm posture; she didn’t approve of mind magic, and rightfully so, in Terry’s opinion.

  He had always admired his mother’s Disruptor abilities—the way she could neutralize hostile powers with tact and grace rather than brute force. But even more so than her powers, had been her energy. The way she could walk into a room and draw every eye in an instant; step into the middle of a conflict and make both sides feel heard.

  Since her disappearance and return, she felt harder around the edges, more black-and-white, us or them, than before. Something about her System, or perhaps her Capstone, had changed her.

  Or, maybe it was the years of being forced to live a lie just to exist. Manipulate your own family’s memories in some desperate grab for a semblance of normalcy.

  He couldn’t decipher his mother’s thoughts anymore—maybe he never could.

  But as Tomás walked from the tent none the wiser of their encounter, he felt a bone-deep wrongness with the entire affair.

  His mother, in sharp contrast to his own read of her, was hyper aware of his mood. As the silver orbs began to dissipate, she cast him a sad look.

  “You don’t approve.” It was more statement than question.

  Terry looked to Ellie, noting her own guarded expression. When he looked back toward his mother, her eyes had flicked to the girl before zoning back on him.

  “It was my mistake revealing my powers,” he started. “I should be forced to deal with the consequences of my actions.”

  At his side, he felt Ellie give him an appraising look, but he held his mother’s gaze.

  Penelope took in a deep breath, looking toward the Eagle with a smile. “Hector, if you wouldn’t mind?”

  The Eagle rose with a snort. “I’ll leave you to it. Have your zombie send me a message if any rifts open.”

  As the Eagle left, Penelope let out the breath she had been holding. “Terry, I hear you.” She seemed to want to say more, but looked toward Ellie first. “You can stop that, Ellie. I’ll let you know before I decide to invade your mind.” The wry smile on her face only half-hid the silver magic swirling behind her eyes.

  Ellie didn’t budge an inch under the gaze of the world’s strongest super. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll keep my surface thoughts hidden, thank you very much.” She pursed her lips as if hesitating to add something, then decided to go for it anyway. “After what I’ve seen of how you operate, I think it’s only prudent.”

  It was clear from her tone, she was indicating Savage—and the working just performed on Tomás.

  Penelope sniffed, glancing toward the revenant before turning a hardened gaze back on the girl. Terry felt a jolt of electricity pass through him at the burgeoning confrontation.

  “Yes, let’s talk about that, shall we?” His mother’s tone was laced with iron now, reminding him more of the S-ranker and less of his mother.

  Ellie bristled, squaring her shoulders. “You gonna mind wipe me, too, huh?” she accused.

  Penelope took a step forward, her aura suddenly unveiled. The breadth and weight of it staggered Terry and Ellie too must have felt the gulf between them, her breath sapped away explosively.

  “Since you brought up your mind, tell me this: why would a nobody C-ranker have her psyche wrapped tight by one of the most powerful mind workings I’ve ever encountered?” Penelope took another step forward, causing Ellie to retreat into the edge of the table. “And why do I find you suddenly intertwined with my son?”

  Terry’s eyebrows climbed his forehead as he regarded Ellie in a new light. He had suspected something off about the girl—it was glaringly evident in the way she had inserted herself into his group. But to learn that she had some sort of mental block around her mind that even gave his mother pause…

  “I mean your son no harm,” Ellie replied breathlessly, her body shivering as if under some unseen assault. “You must be able to read that much, at least!”

  His mother stopped pressing forward, her head tilted curiously. “Who is your handler?”

  Ellie’s limbs shook like a tree in the wind. “I…have…no…handler!”

  Penelope pursed her lips in displeasure. “Then who put this mental block on your mind?”

  The girl’s eyes were clenched tight now, her jaw flexing and unflexing as if she were grinding her teeth.

  “My…mother…” she gasped.

  “Who is?”

  Ellie cried out in pain. “I can’t say!”

  “Tell me—”

  “Mom!”

  Penelope’s gaze cut away from Ellie, her eyes widening as if surprised to find Terry there, a desperate look on his face. He said no more, but if she could read his surface thoughts, then she would sense his horror.

  He implored her with his eyes, turning his thoughts back to the mother of before, the woman he had admired, had loved…

  Her head shot back as if rearing away from a physical strike. When she looked away from Terry to see Ellie sagging against the table, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, her face softened.

  The air felt charged, the silence only broken by that heavy breathing. He stepped forward, taking his mother’s hand. “She said she meant me no harm. Isn’t that enough?” he asked quietly.

  She gripped his hand, glancing toward Ellie before pulling Terry across the tent out of ear shot.

  “Terry, there’s so much she’s hiding. The working on her mind is almost at my level—”

  “So what?” he asked suddenly. The anger of watching her mentally assault the girl who had saved Juan’s life suddenly burned inside of him. “So what if she’s hiding things? So am I. So are you! As long as she doesn’t mean us or the Protectorate harm…” He shook his head softly. “So what?”

  His mother pressed her lips tight, staring into Terry’s eyes. It was impossible to keep the disappointment from his thoughts—he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to. It must have registered to her, because she shook her head with a sigh.

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  “Terry, I can’t afford to be naive. The entire continent is depending on me to lead us to victory. I’m sorry, but she’s working for someone powerful and I can’t be certain they have the Protectorate’s best interests at heart.”

  He searched her eyes, trying and failing to find the mother of his childhood. Instead, all that stared back was the White Rose, the leader of the Protectorate. He didn’t fault her for that—even admired that mantle of responsibility she was forced to wear.

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t disappointed at the same time.

  He nodded, recognizing that arguing was pointless. “Fine, Mom. Just…leave her mind alone. Look at what it’s doing to her.”

  “I see—”

  “No,” he pointed forcefully. “Really look.”

  His mother followed his finger to study Ellie. The girl’s hair was disheveled, her hands white-knuckling the edge of the table. Quiet tears slipped down her cheeks, staining the wood surface. A wracking shiver took her, her nails digging in deeper as she fought the backlash.

  His mother stared at the girl in silence and Terry wasn’t certain how she would ultimately react.

  After a few moments, Penelope finally stirred. “Okay, Terry. I’ll leave her be.” He felt a thrill of victory rise in his chest, but his mother held up a stern finger. “But she’s banned from the rifts. The damage an agent of Moscow could unleash is beyond empathy or human compassion. And I’ll be watching her. Very, very closely.” That last part was obviously for Ellie’s benefit, though Terry wasn’t sure the girl was registering anything at the moment.

  He nodded agreement all the same, approaching Ellie as she tried to recover from the mental assault. As his hands gripped around her shoulders, she flinched in panic, a wild look in her eyes.

  “It’s just me, Ellie,” he said softly. He cast a look back at his mother, who watched the two of them with a guarded look. “You’re safe.”

  She broke down then, sagging into his arms so suddenly that he had to catch her.

  He purposefully didn’t cast a dark look back at his mother, but he knew she could hear his thoughts, and they weren’t charitable.

  With a quick flick of aura, he opened a portal toward where he felt Tania through the connection they shared with Loan Skill. The concern of before about the two of them butting heads felt silly in the face of Ellie’s obvious trauma.

  He shot Tania a quick warning message before the two of them passed through his portal, Ellie leaning almost completely on him for support. Tania’s confused reply hung in his vision as they materialized outside a small tent.

  “We’re out here,” he called and Tania poked her head out a moment later.

  “Terry? What the—” Tania cut off as she saw the state of Ellie. “Why didn’t you bring her to the healers?”

  She pushed past the tent flap, moving to put her good side under Ellie to distribute the weight.

  “Because this wasn’t from the rift.”

  Tania leaned forward so they could lock eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Let’s get inside and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Penelope’s domain extended for miles in every direction, encompassing the camp, rifts, and even a large portion of Mexico City. A deluge of emotions and transitory thoughts filtered through the Mental Singularity, only those of particular relevance passing into her awareness.

  The Singularity pulsed inside her, alongside its Spectral and Presence siblings. A significant portion of her resources were dedicated to containing and purging the Spectral Singularity—a task she had thought complete weeks earlier. Only by happenstance had she spotted another Chaos burr and continued the purifying process.

  But her affinity had always been greatest with the Mental Singularity and the two of them had developed an understanding amongst partners. Whatever basic consciousness that existed within the object, it now knew what she considered of note and discarded the rest.

  It had performed its autonomous task flawlessly for weeks, never causing her to question its independence.

  Which was why it was so damned concerning that it expressed no interest in Ellie. The psyche block she had begun to chip away at was fascinating in its simple efficacy and she had fully expected the Singularity to share in her academic excitement.

  Instead, it was as if the girl didn’t register as anything special to its senses, prompting her to manually track the girl as she entered Tania’s tent five hundred meters across the camp.

  But that mental image that had flickered in the girl’s mind at mention of her mother; despite the looming threat hanging over their entire world, the Russians still played games with her. They had enough problems with their own rifts, she had thought. The few spies she allowed within the camp were in positions of little importance and closely monitored anyway.

  In her arrogance, she had thought herself above being tricked by her Earthly enemies—had turned her full attention to rooting out off-world insurgents instead.

  But with the discovery of Ellie, it was time the other great powers remembered who she was.

  Together, her and the Mental Singularity parsed every single surface thought inside her domain in patient expectation. Through Savage, she sent a message to Irina—one of the great S-ranked Hypnotists of the world.

  


  [Savage]: I’m going to kill them now. Yes, even her.

  The reply came back almost instantly.

  


  [Irina]: Penelope? I don’t know who you mean.

  She ignored the words, instead looking for the thoughts. Words were lies, more often than not. But thoughts were a far trickier thing to obfuscate.

  Irina was like any mother—she wouldn’t let duty stand between her and her daughter’s life. There would be a response, a warning message, a Traveler infiltration—something.

  She waited for such a response to flare up across her domain.

  Thousands of thoughts and emotions passed through her mind every second, but she instinctively latched on to a handful of particular feelings now—fear, anxiety, trepidation.

  She watched and waited, expecting the knee-jerk response. Ellie’s mind was in turmoil but her surface thoughts were no longer obfuscated by mantra.

  The girl would reveal herself any moment…

  Nothing.

  There was only pain, and some small piece of pleasure that she had held up under the White Rose’s ‘torture.’

  “There should have been something,” she muttered to herself.

  


  [Savage]: Last chance to pull her back.

  


  [Irina]: I’m sure I don’t know who you mean.

  She studied that reply in Savage’s mind, wondering if she had underestimated her Russian counterpart. Was she so desperate to plant a honey pot next to her son?

  Had she really left Ellie out to dry? Maybe the girl wasn’t completely lying. One of Irina’s exiled daughters, left to her own devices but with a powerful cipher on her mind?

  As unlikely as it seemed, she wouldn’t violate Terry’s trust any further by probing the girl deeper. The hurt and disillusionment she had read in his thoughts had stabbed at her, no matter how assured she was in the necessity of her actions.

  The loss of respect from her only child hurt.

  Her only solace was the knowledge that she was right about Ellie, in some form or another. She would wait and watch from a distance.

  And if Ellie revealed her hand, the White Rose would end the threat without mercy.

  After leaving Ellie tucked in to Tania’s sleeping bag, the two of them conversed outside her tent quietly.

  “If you don’t trust her, why the hell is she in my tent?”

  Terry bit his lip, letting out a deep sigh. “I don’t know, Tania. Guilt, maybe? You didn’t see what my mom did to her. It was…bad.”

  Tania pursed her lips, looking back toward the tent. “I still think you should take her to the healers. Who knows if it’ll fix itself—”

  “No healers…” The voice came from inside the tent, weak and strained. Ellie slowly peeled back the tent flap, surprising them both as she wavered on her feet. “Just need…some time…”

  Tania’s face settled into a frown. “See what you mean about her being stubborn.” She strode over to the girl, wedging her good arm under Ellie’s armpit and forcing her to turn. “Get back in bed, you dummy. You can barely stand.”

  Ellie protested weakly but relented a moment later. Tania led her back into the tent, then stuck her head out after settling the girl.

  “You go check on Juan. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Terry shifted with indecision, both wanting to see Juan but afraid to leave the two fiery girls alone.

  “We’ll be fine!” Tania insisted, noting his hesitation. “I promise not to beat up your side piece.” Her face twisted in a wry smile as Terry’s eyes widened in horror. With a soft snort, she shook her head. “You’re too easy to rile up. Seriously, go! Your friend needs you.”

  After a moment, Terry nodded, opening a portal in the general direction of the healing tents. He stepped through, got his bearings, then opened another portal leading to a large tent in the distance teeming with activity.

  When he arrived outside of it, he was relieved to spot the red cross emblazoned on its exterior, along with a sign indicating it was the triage center. Dozens of people came and went, and he quickly stepped to the side as a medical team ran past him carrying an empty gurney.

  As he approached the entrance, a woman with a clipboard stopped him with an upraised hand.

  “Who are you here to see?”

  “Juan Carlos,” he replied, peering past the swinging tent flap to see if the boy was visible.

  The woman scanned a page, then flipped to the next before nodding. “He’s in the recovery ward,” the woman replied with a nod of her head. “Two tents down.”

  He thanked her and took off, finding it a moment later. There was a lot less coming and going at this tent and he was able to walk right in without being stopped.

  Two dozen cots stretched on either side, mostly empty. But halfway down on the left-hand side, he spotted his friend.

  “Juan!” he called, only to quickly be scolded by the nurse at a nearby table he hadn’t initially noticed. “Sorry,” he whispered before turning back to his friend.

  Juan had his eyes opened, though they drooped heavily. The smile on his face was wide though, as he caught Terry’s eye.

  He strode over to the cot, matching Juan’s smile.

  “Bro…” the boy said weakly.

  Terry nodded, reaching out to bump fists. “You had me worried, bro.”

  Juan chuckled softly, then winced like his head hurt. “Had myself worried…” He trailed off, a concerned look filling his face. “Do you…do you think they told my abuela?”

  Terry just shook his head, snorting quietly to himself.

  “I don’t know, bro. I can ask—”

  “Juan Carlos!”

  A voice cut through the quiet tent, causing Juan to jump in his bed, his eyes pinching shut against the pain of the movement.

  Terry turned to see a tiny old woman charging them with a burning fire in her eyes.

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