Disclaimer: All rights of savant series to Joss Stirling.
CONTAINS CHARACTERS FROM MISTY FALLS SERIES AND BENEDICT SERIES!
AU: So this is the first savant story from the series I'm working on, with Paige and Evan. Hope you enjoy! Please comment if you do.

Chapter One

Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep…

I groaned, rolled over and fumbled around in the dark until I found my phone, which was the object guilty of waking me up at the ungodly hour of eight fifteen. I didn't see why I had to get up so early on a Saturday- Dad's interview wasn't until eleven- but this once I'd obliged to his request. I knew how nervous he was.

I jumped in the shower, managing to knock over the towel rack beforehand- I cursed my clumsy genes- and eventually emerged feeling rejuvenated. Wrapping a towel around myself, I wiped away the mist on the mirror and scrunched the wet strands of my brown hair. How was it that I always looked like a drowned rat when I got out of the shower? Somehow, my oversized green-brown eyes made me look like I'd just escaped from the loony bin, and I sighed, wrapping the towel tighter around me.

Now for the next task- deciding what to wear.

As much as I'd grumbled at dad for forcing me to get up so early, I couldn't help but feel a little curious at the prospect of seeing the residence of the Winters. They were, after all, one of the most famous families in the world, and I knew their house would be filled with cool artifacts from all the countries they'd visited. I'd never really roamed further than London or Bristol, where I'd grown up, so the thought of flying all over the world like movie stars did felt pretty impossible.

Not that I was too buzzed at the thought of meeting another stuck up family. My dad was a reporter for a fancy magazine, and occasionally he got to do stuff like interview the rich and famous. If it wasn't a school day I had to tag along too, since Dad saw me as too much of a liability to be left alone, but it wasn't something I particularly enjoyed. The celebrities that I'd encountered were usually arrogant or snotty, or sometimes just ignored me all together, and I didn't look forward to meeting another bunch of self-obsessed actors.

Though, I had to admit I was mildly interested in the Winters since they were so famous- the most famous family Dad had ever interviewed, in fact. They were an American family, incredibly well-known, and a real catch for the magazine. Dad been working relentlessly at his job for years now, trying to make a good life for me, and this was an incredible opportunity. It was rare for Henry Winters, the father, to give interviews at all, but I suppose he was feeling generous since moving to England.

I selected a playlist on my phone, and a second later Shooting Star blared through my speaker. I smiled to myself and pranced around, being careful to avoid the pile of sketchbooks on the floor from my Art A level; I'd tripped on them the day previously and smeared paint all my feet and the carpet. Safe to say, Dad hadn't been happy.

Shooting Star reached it's chorus and I sung along- loudly and off-tune. It was one of Angel Devon's songs. I'd only met her a couple of times, but knew her through my old savant friend, Misty, who I'd met in in year eleven when Dad and I had moved from Bristol to London. We'd quickly discovered each other- which wasn't hard considering we were the only two savants at our high school- but we went to different sixth forms now. We'd stayed friends though, which I was thankful for. Misty was my only real link with the savant world, since Dad had pretty much shunned that life when my mum died.

I tried not to think of those days- it made my chest ache with a weird mingle of grief and longing- but back then Dad had been a pretty strong savant. He had an incredible photographic memory- he could recall the tiniest of details from years previously, and when I was little he'd rest his forehead against mine before I went to sleep and show me memories of his childhood.

I, on the other hand, had the same gift my mother had had. I was an empath, which meant I could sense and control people's emotions. I didn't know much about how Mum and her gift had differed from mine, but I did know she'd been a part of the savant net. Dad had tried to shield me from that part of my life as much as possible since she'd died- trying his hardest to make us as safe as we could outside of the net. He'd pulled a few strings with some close friends and now we were practically invisible, which I was fine with if it put his mind at rest. I just wish he'd open up more. I knew Mum and Dad had been soulfinders, but he practically refused to tell me anything else about them. I was a complete dunce on that topic compared with other savants my age. Like Misty.

But this year was going to be different, I remembered. I'd finally persuaded Dad to let me go to the savant camp that Misty and all her friends went to each year, after trying hard for the past two years. I couldn't blame him for being protective, of course, especially after what had happened to Mum, but he needed to learn that I wanted to explore things on my own. I wasn't his little girl anymore, and I was certain the savant world wasn't as dangerous as he seemed to think.

I shook myself out of my thoughts- back to reality Paige. I had a bad habit of going off on a tangent, and I couldn't afford to on a morning that was as important as this one. After disdainfully eyeing my incredibly lacking wardrobe for some time, I finally decided on my old pair of trusty blue jeans, a mustard jumper with a pineapple stitched onto it and a khaki jacket that had belonged to my mum in her teenage years. I dried my brown hair, brushing it out and throwing the top half into a messy bun; grabbed my phone and span the globe in the corner of my room, stopping it with my finger to see where it landed. Puerto Rico. Cool. It was a little ritual I had- the closest I'd ever got to following my dream of travelling around the world.

I headed downstairs to where my father was drinking a cup of tea at the table, wearing his corduroy blazer over a blue shirt and a mismatched tie. He was freshly shaved, but his grey-flecked brown hair still looked as dishevelled as ever.

"Hey Dad." I greeted, grinning at his loveable fashion sense as I poured some muesli into a bowl.

"Morning." he muttered distractedly, already engrossed in the morning's newspaper. I rolled my eyes; it wasn't hard to see where I got my scattered brain from- Dad's attention span was worse than mine. He looked tired, I noticed. Probably stressed about the interview. Ever since Mum's death, he'd thrown himself into work and become more jittery about everything- especially before important interviews. He told me I was his rock, the one who could bring him back from the edge when he lost his nerve. I liked being someone he could rely upon.

Just as I began to eat my breakfast, Max scrambled into the kitchen, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He padded over to the table, nudged my hand until I scratched his ear, and then headed over to his bed by the door, collapsing with a humpf. He was a golden retriever, and Mum had spontaneously picked him from an animal shelter five years ago. Dad had protested at first, but he came around; no one could've said no to Max's puppy dog eyes- or Mum's.

I watched across the table as Dad's eyes narrowed at something he'd read in the paper, and quickly swallowed down my mouthful of muesli I'd been chewing.

"What is it?" I asked.

Silently, he turned the paper round and pointed to an article splashed across one of the pages. It read: DESPERATE DAVIS TAKES RESEARCH TOO FAR.

I quickly scanned the article to find the Davis bloke had been sentenced to five years in prison for phone hacking, after trying to get a story at a Rockport music festival- it was the same one Misty and her friends had been to, and I made an internal note to ask her about it next time we spoke. "That's the guy you used to work with, right?" I asked, passing the paper back to Dad.

He nodded. "Yeah. I've got to admit I'm not saddened by the news, though I do wonder how they pinned something on him. If Davis knew anything, it was how to go under the radar." From the photograph that had been printed next to the headline he looked like the type who could worm his way out of things- all beady eyes and smarmy smile. "I wonder who'll replace him at The Morning Star." Dad mused.

As he spoke, his fingers were tapping erratically on the table. Though I tried my hardest not to pry into people's emotions, I couldn't help but sense the apprehension that was seeping out of him, painfully obvious underneath the tinge of sadness that always seemed to be there.

"You nervous?" I asked. I could feel Dad's emotions as others could feel a vibration, or musical note- each person had a separate cord connecting them to me, and I knew Dad's tune by heart. I'd always struggled with properly describing how my gift worked- it was like a shadow or impression of someone's mental state was duplicated into my mind- I could feel what they were feeling. It was hard to explain, but if I so wished could change it slightly, guiding the clashing notes to become softer and more pleasing to the ear.

My mother had always said that in a way it was an ability to heal people- mentally rather than of physically. I suppose Dad was like a patient of mine.

He chuckled, scratching his head. "Is it that obvious?"

I could feel it from a mile away. "Just a little. But you'll be fine."

He sighed, folding up the paper, and looking at me with worried blue eyes. "I hope so. I've met Winters a couple of times at press conference, but I've never done an interview like this before. This could be my big break."

I squeezed his hand across the table, since my gift worked better with human contact, and propelled my calming power towards him. "It will be Dad. You'll smash it."

He visibly relaxed, releasing my hand. I knew the tranquillity of his emotions would hold until we got there. "Thanks, poppet. You're too wise for your age, just like your mother was."

I laughed, taking another spoonful of muesli. "I don't believe that for a second."

He chuckled into his tea, and, feeling hopeful, I checked into his emotions. But no luck- the tinge of sadness was still there, as always. There were rare moments when it would disappear, but never for longer than a few minutes. I sighed; it was like a constant hole in my gut, knowing that my dad had a cloud hovering above his head, tugging him down. I figured that was what losing a soulfinder did to you.

The uneasiness kicked in when I climbed into Dad's old Porsche, and I tried to calm my jittery thoughts. Unfortunately, my gift didn't allow me to manipulate my own emotions, much to my annoyance.

"Do I have to go?" I moaned, giving Dad the puppy eyes as he started reversing out of the drive. "Can't you let me stay home, just this once?"

I knew it was futile. "After last time? No way." Dad's voice was final, and I could sense his resolution on the subject. One of the side effects of my gift meant my own emotions could easily get out of control- and it just so happened that last time he left me alone my telekinesis had gone a little awry, meaning that my bedroom window wasn't quite as complete as it had been previously. I'd meant to send the hairdryer to my dressing table, not rocketing out the window. That had been a hard one to explain to the neighbors- they all thought I was a nutjob now.

"Fine." I slumped in my seat, wishing I could stay at home and listen to more music.

I could tell Dad felt bad without listening to his emotions. He glanced over at me, his face softening. "Sorry, poppet. If it makes you feel better, you probably won't come face to face with any of those notorious Winters."

I laughed. "God, I hope not."

He bit back a smile as we pulled out of the drive. "Most girls would kill to be in your position. I thought every teen was head over heels for that son of his."

I groaned. "Dad, that's exactly what's wrong with people like that. They're completely in love with themselves." Not that I hadn't admired Evan Winters in the films I'd seen him in. With sweeping dark hair and that chiselled jawline of his, he was pretty easy on the eyes to say the least. But the best looking always turned out to have the worst personalities. I threw him a grin. "Besides, I'm not 'every teen'."

He rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."

The electric gates loomed above us menacingly. I watched Dad visibly swallow before he leaned out of the car to press the intercom.

The woman's voice that rang through the speaker was posh and polite. "Good morning. How may I help you?"

"Um," He scratched his beard. "I'm Michael Miller, reporter for The Illumination Gazette?"

"Oh, yes." Was it me, or did she sound distasteful? "Come right through, Mr Miller."

The gates opened and Dad drove on through.

The driveway seemed to go on forever. Summer trees lined the long winding road, creating an archway of reds, golds and greens that merged together; the sun shone through the gaps in the greenery, filling the endless tunnel with warm rays of sunlight. Beyond the road, freshly- mown grass seemed to stretch for miles, and the whole place had an air of wealth and luxury; bushes had been trimmed, the drive had been swept. Only the trees had been left to grow, entangling themselves in one another, and the effect was remarkable.

It was safe to say, I felt completely out of place.

Eventually, we reached the end of the stretching driveway, curving around the huge marble fountain that stood proudly in front of the house- if you could even call it that. I didn't know what I'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this; a modern building perhaps, with floor to ceiling windows and balconies and a personal chef. Yes, I'd thought the house would be huge, but this was like a palace. The mansion was a pale gold colour, stretching out in front of me; it looked like a hotel, with Greek-style pillars boldly marking the entrance, and windows glaring down from every room. Golden embellishments lined the huge oak doorway, and even my untrained eye could see they were real gold- nothing like the cheap plated necklaces I had at home.

Dad straightened his tie nervously, and I internally plucked at his frantic chord, feeling better when his face settled into a calming smile.

"Right. In we go then."

He set off determinedly up the steps to the front door, and I followed him. Before we had chance to touch the brass knocker, however, the door flung inwards, and a man in a smart suit appeared in front of us. He had slick blonde hair and oversized, gleaming white teeth, which were currently fixed in a professional smile.

He shook hands with Dad. "Hello, Mr Miller! It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Daniel Starr, Mr Winters' personal assistant." He turned to me, assessing my scruffy jeans and old jacket. I could sense his cord hardening, becoming taught with distaste. "And you must be Paige?" he checked. It wasn't hard to tell he was struggling to be polite, his voice slightly strained.

I nodded.

"Your father mentioned you would be coming. Come on in, both of you."

We followed him through the doorway into the entrance hall, which was a huge room laden with plush armchairs and coffee tables. A magnificent chandelier hung from the ceiling bathing the room in light; the wallpaper was golden, filled with swirly, spiralling patterns; the carpet was the colour of a warm summer sunrise, and paintings of faraway countries and landscapes adorned the walls.

"Wow." I breathed. Daniel glanced back at me, and I felt the distaste he'd been feeling lessen in its severity.

"Yes, it is a very beautiful home."

"You can say that again." Dad chuckled awkwardly, and I frowned. His emotions were frantic again- I could feel his nerves returning full force. Usually when I used my gift on someone, it lasted longer. It didn't make sense. Must be a fluke, I thought, brushing away any doubt, and instead focused on calming Dad down again.

It didn't work.

I could sense the the strain in his mind as Daniel led us from the entry hall down a corridor, but it wasn't as strong as usual; it was like a diluted version of what I would normally feel. Confused, I followed Daniel and Dad. I tried to correct the clashing notes ringing in my head, but it was hard to think with the grandeur of the house staring me in the face everywhere I looked. The luxurious wallpaper adorning the walls of the corridor was decorated with expensive-looking paintings and carpeted with a plush champagne-coloured floor. Artifacts and artwork that appeared to come from all over the world were resting against and hanging from the walls, drawing away my concentration. Between that and my father's worries, I barely even noticed as Daniel led us into a small living area.

"This is one of the many drawing rooms." Daniel announced, motioning to the patterned sofas and sweeping curtains that framed the broad bay windows. I was only half listening, desperately trying to figure out why my gift wasn't working. Every time I delved into Dad's mind, nothing changed.

But hearing my name broke me from my stream of thoughts. "Paige dear," Daniel was saying, "if you could sit here whilst I take your father in to do the interview that would be lovely."

There was a pause; Daniel looked at me expectantly.

"Oh er, that'll be fine." I told Daniel quickly, flashing a smile. I perched on one of the armchairs, trying to look relaxed when my thoughts were moving a million times a minute.

He nodded briskly, keen to move on, but I could tell Dad wasn't convinced by my show of politeness. I could see the wires ticking in his head as he hesitated.

"Is that alright?" Daniel prompted, obviously tried his impatience as he looked between us.

"Dad, I'll be fine." I told him. "Go and do your interview. I'll still be here when you get back."

"Okay." he relented, "Let's get this over with."

Daniel nodded happily, opening the door and gesturing Dad through. As he left, I tried one more desperate attempt of boosting his confidence.

The door slammed shut, leaving me alone.

I couldn't stop thinking about the way my gift hadn't worked. What did it mean? I'd never had a problem with it before. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to call Misty, hoping she'd have an idea.

She picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" She sounded breathless with laughter, and I could hear the sound of some kind of competitive game in the background- loud shouts and bursts of hooting laughter.

"Hey, Misty. It's Paige."

She gasped. "Paige! Oh my god, it's been so long! How are you?"

I laughed at the enthusiasm in her voice; I could sense her joy through the phone. I meant to tell her I was good and had been keeping busy, but with Misty white lies were never easy. "Okay." I said instead. "I've been kinda lonely. You know how overprotective Dad is." I groaned as I finished. "Urgh, I didn't mean to say that."

Misty sounded sad. "Oh, Paige. You know you're always welcome to come up and stay. It's been forever, and Angel and Summer so want to see you again before camp."

I grimaced. "Wish I could. But you know what Dad's like."

"He'll lighten up a little, I'm sure he will. You're seventeen now."

"I hope so." I muttered, though I highly doubted that. "How have you lot been then?"

She brightened. "Great actually. Did you know Summer found her soulfinder?"

"Really?" I was happy for Summer- from the short amount of time I'd spent with her she seemed lovely- but the word soulfinder still filled my stomach with dread. I knew what breaking that bond meant- a lifetime of pain and despair.

"Yep. She's super happy."

I smiled. "I bet she is. You sound pretty happy too. What are you up to?"

"Oh, I'm at Angel's house with Alex, Marcus, Sky and Zed."

"Zed? The Benedict?" I'd only heard stories about the famous Benedict brothers and their soulfinders from Misty. My brow furrowed as I tried to remember their names- Crystal, Diamond, Sky… Phoenix, was it? And most recently Tarryn.

"Yep, that's him. He and his soulfinder Sky are staying in London for a while. They're having a table football tournament at the moment." She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "Between you and me, it's obvious Marcus and Angel are whooping Zed and Sky's asses."

"It's foosball," an unfamiliar voice grumbled. I presumed it must be Zed. "And that's bull, Misty."

Misty laughed. "Yeah right!" she called. Her voice returned to the phone. "So, what's up with you, Paige?"

"Well," I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I wasn't meant to tell anybody where I was, but this was Misty. "You probably won't believe this, but right now I'm in Henry Winters' house, and-"

There was a resounding crash, and I could hear Misty curse. The phone crackled as she obviously tried to sweep up what she'd just dropped. "Oh God, sorry Angel! I'll clean it all up." she called, before her voice returned to the speaker. "You're what?" she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

"I know, it's mad." I didn't tell her that I didn't really want to be here- Misty probably would have murdered me on the spot.

"What… how are you…?" she seemed to be struggling to grasp what I'd told her.

"Dad's doing an interview, but it's not as glamourous as it sounds. I'm just hanging out in one of their fancy rooms on my own."

"Still, you're in their house." I could sense the jealousy and incredulity tinging her words. "You're in Evan Winters' house! Oh my god, he's so hot." There was an indignant "hey!" from the background and Misty giggled.

"Sorry Alex." she said. Alex was her soulfinder, who she'd met the year previously. She turned her attention back to me. "Paige, you can't just sit around. You have to take this opportunity to explore! When will you ever have this chance again? Have a nose around!"

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "I'll see. But first I need to ask you something."

The seriousness in my tone sobered Misty up. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's about my gift. I used it on Dad this morning- you know, to calm him down for the interview. But we've got to the Winters and it's just not working. I keep trying but he's still really stressed out." I could feel the panic clawing up my chest as Misty's presence extracted the truth in my thoughts. "Is there something wrong with me?"

I sensed her frowning; she was confused. "Wrong with you? No, I doubt it. I'm sure there's a simple explanation... You said it was working back at home?"

"Yeah, it was fine- it lasted a few hours before, but now I can't even tell how he's feeling."

The others seemed to have stopped playing. Misty swallowed. "Hold on Paige, I'll pass you to Zed."

I waited whilst she handed the phone to the older boy.

"Paige?" His voice was deeper than I was expecting, his emotions equally as deep in thought. I couldn't believe I was talking to a Benedict- another savant, like me. "How many times did you attempt your gift on your Dad?"

"Er, quite a few times. I kept trying so he'd stop stressing out."

"And it didn't work?"

"No effect whatsoever."

I could sense Zed thinking hard. "And have you met anyone in the house yet? Any family members?"

"No. Only Mr Winters' Personal Assistant."

"And was he a savant?"

A savant? Why would Zed want to know if he was a savant? I thought of Daniel, with his brisk, business-like manner and millionaire smile; savant's emotions were different to humans- their chords had a constant vibration to them, and I had known immediately that Daniel's didn't. "No, I'm pretty sure he wasn't."

There was a slight pause. I could sense the people across the line talking telepathically to each other.

"What is it?" I asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

"I think there's at least one savant in that house, Paige. Someone who's blocking your power."

I swallowed. "You do? Why would they want to do that?"

Zed's tone was grave. "That's what worries me. You see, savants don't tend to block power unless they have a reason to." Well, that sounded promising. Zed moved on swiftly. "How long are you there for?"

"A couple of hours at most."

"And where are you?"

"Er…" I racked my brains, trying to remember the name of the town. "Kingsbridge, in Watford."

Another silent conversation. "It will take us twenty minutes to get to you." Zed stated, finally. My heart skipped a beat. They were coming? "Just stay put, Paige. I'm going to contact my brother Victor in LA and tell him to check out these guys. For all we know, they could be part of the savant net."

"And if they're not?"

"We'll deal with that when it comes."

How the mood had changed so suddenly from lighthearted to serious, I didn't understand. I only knew that the strain in Zed Benedict's voice was not helping to ease my panic. "What should I do?" I asked.

"Nothing for now. Just stay where you are. We'll do the rest. Chances are you're perfectly safe."

"And my Dad?"

I could hear him hesitate before he replied. "He'll be fine. Just don't move or do anything rash. We'll call you with an update."

"Okay."

And with that, he hung up.