Senator McKlellan watches me wearily like an animal sensing a predator. I don't blame her really, she saw us fight off her kidnappers at the gang's hideout and she has to know what we are. She's picking grey fuzzies off the cheap comforter on my bed and my enhanced vision can pick up the small tremors of fear shaking her hands. A sense of mute fascinations slips over me as I watch her because I haven't seen fear like that up close for a long time. Cindy has to much pride to get scared, Sketchy is too dumb to know he should be afraid, and Normal is too pig-headed stubborn. As for the rest of us we learned a long time ago not to show our feelings. Feeling can be used against you, associations can be turned to the advantage of the enemy.
"You are one of those people aren't you? You and the boy?" The senator wins bonus points for not sounding disgusted when she says the words "those people", instead she looks up at me with large hazel eyes with an expression of intense curiosity. As long as she doesn't want to dissect me, I'm fine with curiosity. "You work for Heather don't you? It's okay to tell me, the two of us have been good friends since our junior senate days and she won't mind if I know." That's a shock, the idea of Senator Burnhart having friends. The mousy looking woman before me seems harmless enough and so I decide to tell her half the truth.
"Senator Burnhart was instrumental in passing the Transgenic Freedom and Protection Acts through congress. As a show of gratitude myself and my associate run certain politically sensitive errands for her." She laughs lightly in a tired kind of way.
"Well in an instable world like this one I'd certainly say that it's wise to have the protection of such a powerful political ally. In fact I'm sure a similar arrangement could be reached between…" The cell phone in my cargo pocket rang obnoxiously saving me from having to reply to the deceptively shy looking woman in front of me. The last thing I want to do right now is get myself tangled up with another slimy politician but I'm not sure whether I might need the extra help someday.
"Talk to me."
"I need you to return to Seattle immediately Max." Her voice is terse, and for the first time in our short acquaintance she doesn't even identify herself on the phone, something is very wrong. "My personal security has been compromised, and," her breath hitches in her throat and if I didn't know better I'd think that she was crying. "They've taken my daughter, they've kidnapped Elizabeth." There is no need to ask who's taken her daughter, even a senator doesn't have that many enemies willing to kidnap people. The only question now, is why would the gang pull of such a risky move. If they wanted the senator to stop nosing into their affairs they could have simply shot her, they certainly had the opportunity to do so if they'd managed to break into her house. Something doesn't feel right about this and its prickling at my sixth senses.
"One of us needs to stay behind to monitor the movements of the cult. Alec's will remain here for now and I'll return with Senator McKlellan to Seattle." She makes a noise of agreement in the phone and doesn't even question me about our success at recovering the other hostages. I'm still holding the phone to my ear long after the dial tone signals the end of our connection.
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Harker Hayes looks back at me indignantly before tossing her shoulder length chestnut hair over her left shoulder and turning her head back to the tv. I would really like to kill the writers of self help books for parents. There isn't a single teenager I know that classifies as well adjusted or well balanced. Self help books only make our parents feel inadequate about themselves, a feeling which they in turn take out on us. God even knows what my mother's read now, but she's suddenly got it into her head that I don't socialize enough with my peers. Unfortunately for me, that also means that she wants me to pal around with the sons and daughters of her social peers. Hence the enforced sleep over with the blond debutante from hell.
What kind of name is Harker anyway? Elizabeth may be an old fashioned name, but only an aging Californian socialite would name their daughter Harker. The vapid little thing doesn't even have any books or a computer, instead I'm forced to sit here watching Best Music Videos of All Time. They haven't made a new music video since the pulse so it rather limits the playing field I guess, but I'd offered my opinion on the relative tastelessness of turn of the century boy bands and Harker had thrown a hissy fit. The only bright spot I could see was that the little sod had finally shut her mouth. One more word about her dreamy boyfriend Todd and I would have puked up right on her pastel pink carpet.
The incessant ringing of Harker's personal phone line finally breaks the monotonous stream of music videos and commercials. "Hello?" A sudden increase in the throatiness of her voice means that she's probably expecting a call from Todd. If Todd thinks that voice is real then cute or not, he's extremely dim witted as well. "What! Really? Oh Todd that would be just fabulous. No my parents are shut off in the South wing of the house trying out their new Yoga Mantra's and the maid's definitely gone to bed for the evening. I'll see you in five minutes. Okay sugar see you soon." The night just keeps getting better and better. If I'm forced to watch little miss Harker snog with her boyfriend I'll walk out of here and stay in a hotel for the night.
Beaming on me with an expression that indicates that my unfortunate tastes in music have been forgiven Harker coyly puts her finger to her lips to indicate silence and motions me out the door. Apparently being a professional debutante has some perks because she manages to creep down the stairs in her stiletto heels in perfect silence. We stand camped out by the back door for a few minutes until a small knock thuds out. In her immense excitement over seeing Todd, Harker punches the security code into the pad beside the door and yanks it open without even looking outside first. Despite my sarcastic and jaded outlook on life, even I let out a little shriek of shock when a half dozen armed latin men come storming through the door instead of the homogoneously whitebread boyfriend.
Just earlier today I'd increased the security on my mother's mansion with a little of my own creative computer work. I know that she's taking on the cult that killed my father right now. Inherent to that I know the danger that she's probably in at the moment. What I seem to have failed to calculate is the possible dangers to my own life.