I started on my mural the very next day.
With a pencil in my left hand, I lightly sketched the arc for the meaty part of the pear. To steady myself, I pressed against the wall with my right hand and a few visions appeared through the fog. A girl wearing her hair in two braids with a headband made from daisies. A boy with hair short in the front and long in the back.
I stepped away from the wall and adjusted the fog, bringing it closer until the visions disappeared. It left me a bit dazed, but still aware. The perfect state for painting. I put my pencil to the wall and completed the arc of the pear, then sketched until it was time to go home.
Although Tristan continued to contact psychics and search for matches of Brinda’s drawings, and Aaron worked nonstop on his webcam search, there had been no new leads in their investigations over the next week. So every day after school, I would meet Mr. Vargas in the art room and gather my supplies. He’d help me carry everything down to the cafeteria, bring me a ladder if I was painting up high, then leave me to my work. I’d have to spend a few minutes getting the fog adjusted to just the right level, then I’d dip the brush into the paint, and get started.
The students in the clubs that met in the cafeteria left me alone, but I could feel them watching. On occasion I felt Nathan Gallagher’s eyes on me as well, watching my every move, as if he peeked into the cafeteria to see what I was doing. A few times I’d turn around, but he would disappear before I saw him. Once I felt John Kellan watching me, but that was impossible. I was keeping the fog thick and close to keep the visions away; I must have been lost in memories of the night he had forcibly taken me from Twelve Lakes.
The Nightmare Eyes were always there. They always watched.
When it was time to go home, Mr. Vargas would come to help me clean up, but I would never notice him. He would have to clear his throat or tap me on the shoulder to bring me out of my daze. My muscles would be sore from crouching and bending and reaching and climbing the ladder. My left hand would be stiff from holding the brushes. And though I never remembered crying, my cheeks would always be damp with tears.
One sunny morning a couple weeks later, as I was hanging up my coat in my locker at school, Tristan texted me. Just got an email from another psychic. She had a vision of J & L with an animal that looked like a horse. It had one eye.
I had a drawing of that one-eyed horse in my book bag this very moment. Heart leaping to my throat, I texted back: Brinda drew that!
Yep. Told you my method would work. Now we just have to find that horse.
Finding a one-eyed horse would be difficult, and of course, that vision could be symbolic, like Deirdre’s dream. But this was the first development we’d had since Tennessee. We were getting closer. We’d find Jillian and Logan any day now. I was sure of it.
The second I sat down in chemistry, the intercom buzzed. “Sorry for the interruption,” the secretary said in a bored voice. “Please send Tessa Carson to the office.”
I jumped up, and without even checking with the teacher, bolted from the classroom. This had to be about Jillian and Logan. Finally. Finally! Was it Tristan waiting for me in the office, or Aaron? Tristan had gotten that lead about the one eyed-horse, but it had to be Aaron waiting for me in the office—Tristan would have come straight to the classroom to get me.
In the front office, I skidded to a stop. Aaron wasn’t there, and neither was Tristan. But Cole Gallagher was there, wearing a regulation black jacket from the APR, his tawny eyes dour, his lips in a straight line. “Dennis needs you at the Lab, Tessa.”
“Why? What happened?” I asked. “You look like it’s bad.”
Cole slid a glance to the secretary, who was watching with sharp green eyes, clearly curious about why the new girl would be needed at the top secret science lab down the road. “You know I can’t discuss that here.”
“Did Aaron find my brother and sister?” I asked.
“Tessa. Please.” He took my arm. “Dennis says it’s urgent.”
Insides prickling with anxiety, I left with Cole. In his Jeep, I asked him again. “Just tell me if they’re okay.” I slid my hands into my sleeves.
“I feel how anxious and scared you are,” he said, “but I don’t know anything about your brother and sister. I’m sure they’re okay. They probably went deeper into hiding after what happened at that motel in Tennessee.”
It took less than five minutes to get to the APR. I shivered as we hustled down the pebbled path into the building—cold because I’d left without grabbing my coat, and also, yes, because I was scared about why I’d been pulled out of school and brought to the APR. Cole put a timid arm around me, to offer warmth or comfort or both.
Dennis waited for me in the lobby, somber and pensive. “Dennis, what’s going on?” I asked. “Did Aaron find Jillian and Logan? Did something happen to them?”
Dennis thanked Cole for fetching me, then guided me through security. But instead of heading down the main hallway, he turned to the right, into the elevator that led to the Underground.
That’s when it hit me: “You’re taking me to see my parents, aren’t you?”
He pressed the Down button, and the doors closed. “I am.”
“But I told you I’m not ready.” I covered my belly with my hands. I would never be ready. They were liars. Thieves. Murderers. They made me Killers’ Spawn.
“You don’t have to see your mother,” Dennis said as the elevator brought us down. “But your father needs you. As you know, he’s been unconscious the whole time he’s been here. But lately he’s been stirring and mumbling. More and more every day.”
“He’s finally waking up. That’s good.” I didn’t want anything to do with my father, but I was relieved he was waking up.
“He’s still incoherent. He keeps reliving the night Kellan abducted you,” Dennis said. “Today, he became frantic. They can’t calm him down. I was here to check on Aaron, but when I heard what was happening with your father, I suggested that you come see him. He’s not aware of his surroundings, but maybe he’ll sense that you’re safe, and calm down on his own. Are you willing to see him, Tessa?”
“Of course. Yes,” I said, a knot of concern forming in my stomach. My father must be in agony, reliving what was probably the worst night of his life. I didn’t want him to suffer like that.
The knot in my stomach tightened when a gun-chomping, muscle-bound man met Dennis and me at the elevator—Mr. Milbourne, the head warden. Winter’s father. Nathan and the rest of the Lab Brats would know all about my Underground visit by the end of the day. I could just picture the gleeful, vengeful gleam in Nathan’s eyes. He would probably be happy my father was in such a tormented state.
Mr. Milbourne grunted a greeting and led us through the prison. Dim and dank, smelling of mildew and hopelessness. Dozens of steel doors, windowless and locked airtight.
He led us past the cell where I’d stayed for three weeks, the cell Kellan had thrown me in after he’d kidnapped me. The cell I’d
