“There’s no passing or failing here. We’re simply gauging your skills,” Kallister reassures me, and I’m reminded of my first day in Silver Block when they surprised us with a random observation quiz.
That morning, I wasn’t sure if I should stand out, blend with the group, or outright fail. Now I’m cycling through those same options, considering how much to reveal. Until it dawns on me that I can’t afford to hide anything from these people.
Before Cross and Xavier broke me out of the city, I was scheduled for execution. If I’m not honest with the Uprising about my abilities, they might send me back to the wards, where I risk being stopped bya Command patrol, or triggering a facial recognition camera, or catching the attention of a surveillance drone. Anywhere I go, I’ll be in danger of getting caught and being sent directly to South Plaza to face the firing squad, just like Uncle Jim.
I need to convince the Uprising to let me stay here. I spent so many years begging for Jim’s permission to run missions with the network—supply runs, handoffs, anything to prove that I could be an asset. Now I finally have a real shot to help dismantle the Company, and I refuse to squander the opportunity.
Adrienne folds her hands on the table. “All right, let’s begin with telepathy.”
Across the table, Kallister and Teriq each hold a tablet, poised to record whatever it is they’re recording.
“Open a path and link with Fiona.” Adrienne gestures to the short-haired woman who hasn’t once smiled at me since I got to the Dagger.
I glance at Fiona, trying to ignore my nerves.
When he first started training me as a child, Uncle Jim explained that Mods are fueled by energy, and that our brains, because they’re incapable of trulyseeingthat energy, create images to represent it. He told me to picture my mind as a vast, dark space. To empty it, strip it down to nothing but blackness, and then visualize a silver rope stretching out in front of me, leading to a silver light far in the distance.
Bend down and pick up the rope,he’d urged.That’s your path, keen? From the rope to the light. You’re going to follow the path.
Opening a path came easy for me, even when confronted with what happens once you enter someone else’s head. The pressure can be stifling, suffocating, because every mind possesses either a natural barrier or, if it’s been strengthened through training, a fortified shield. There’s a primal instinct in every human being to protect the mind from mental infiltration.
Uncle Jim explained that Modified minds have two frequencies. He likened them to waves, one set giving off positive energy, the other negative. Mind reading relies on the latter; he told me to picture that frequency as a door. Beyond that door, black waves try torepel you, push you out. I remember how proud I was the first time I successfully squeezed through those waves and heard Jim’s thoughts.
Telepathy is the welcoming hallway off the door. The positive frequency allows you to recognize a person’s unique energy signature and link with it, and once that connection is made, you can use it to speak to each other or to project images into the other mind.
That’s what I tap into now as I slip into Fiona’s mind, following that familiar pathway until I feel her telepathic energy. Her eyes widen a split second later, her voice filling my head as we link. Her sleeveless shirt leaves her arms bare, revealing the flash of silver in her veins.
“Well done.”It’s grudging praise, as if she’s reluctant to offer it.
Fiona nods at Teriq, who scribbles something on his tablet.
Adrienne raises a brow at me. “Have you always been able to open a path with such speed, or is it something you honed over the years?”
“I’m not sure. Jim’s the one who taught me how to use telepathy. I don’t remember how fast it took me at the beginning.”
“At what age did he start training you?”
“Eight.” I was five, but I stick to the story I’ve recited my whole life.
“Were you able to link with him on the first attempt?”
“Yes.”
“And when did your bloodmark appear?”
“When I was seven.”
They ask me to link with Teriq next. But not Gray. It’s still so wild to me. I’ve never met a Mod who can’t do telepathy.
Which only raises the question—whatcanhe do?
“There’s no silver in her veins,” Fiona remarks with a deep frown. A moment later, she nudges my mind.“Why do your veins remain dormant when you use your gifts?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s never happened to you?” She speaks aloud now. “Not even once?”
“Never,” I say.
