Chapter 1

Clearview Rehabilitation Center

One year later

"Lucky you,Fi, you get to take the greenhorn around and hope he doesn't shit himself like the last one."

I smiled over my shoulder, tucking a stray strand of my dyed blond hair behind my ear. "As always, your jealousy rears its ugly face, Shane. Hard to compete with what's already stuck on your skin, but it manages."

The young guy beside me shook hard, bringing my eyes back to him, a tremor that was visible even with the straitjacket that pinned his hands down and kept him from flailing about.

"Ignore Shane," I said softly, keeping my voice even and smooth. "He's one of those who will never leave this place. Mind you, unlike some of the others, he can at least speak. Other than that, he's—"

"Crazy," the young man said. I looked him over, really seeing him for the first time. He was in his early twenties, maybe even late teens. Sandy blond hair and a face that made me think he could have been an actor in another place or time with the square jaw, light stubble, and perfect nose. Not a model, he wasn't pretty enough for that, but an actor for sure. The muscles in his neck flicked as he ground his teeth, which strengthened the hard line of his chin and the edge of danger that clung to him. No, not a model.

"Maybe crazy isn't quite the right word, but I'll leave it for now. It's your first day; I don't want to overwhelm you." I slid my arm through the gap in his bound arms so I could help him keep his balance as we walked the facility. This was standard procedure: show the newbies around, see how they reacted.

"You don't believe what they're telling me, do you? That abnormals aren't real? That it's all in our heads?" Blue eyes latched onto mine, demanding an answer. Begging me to side with him.

I shrugged. "You want to know what I think? What I really think?"

He nodded and lowered his voice. "I know who you are."

My eyebrows shot up. "Do you now?" Well, that was a surprise. I certainly didn't know him, and I hadn't thought anyone of his generation would have a clue about me. About who I had thought I was, at least. I wasn't that person.

No, you were never a killer. Never a monster. The voice that whispered to me was not my own, but it was familiar, nonetheless. It had been with me my whole time in this place, and while not exactly pleasant, there was nothing malicious about it. What felt like fingers tightened inside my skull, digging into my mind. I didn't fight the feeling, just breathed through it and tried to focus on the kid in front of me. Like a doctor digging out a sliver, it had to hurt if it was to heal.

The kid's sandy blond hair covered the top of his eyes as he nodded, and he spoke out of the side of his mouth as if he were a piss-poor ventriloquist.

"You're the Phoenix." He leaned in close to me, flexing his bicep. "You're going to break us all out of here, aren't you? I can help. I can."

I patted his arm and sighed. "You know, every person I've walked through the facility thinks they're going to break out and go back to their life before. Go back to a world that doesn't exist. We're all here for a reason, kid. The sooner you accept that, the better you'll do."

I guided him to a door, the metal panel cold under my hand. The light above it flickered green, allowing us through. "Keep up, please."

His chest lifted with a deep, anticipatory breath. Like I was going to save him. What he didn't understand was that there was no saving any of us.

Unless you accept the truth. That you are not abnormal. That no one is. You have a disorder, a delusion of grandeur.

I nodded, knowing my handler could feel my movements as well as my thoughts.

"Where are we going?" The kid flexed his muscles against my arm over and over, digging his heels in a little as if he could slow us down.

"I'm showing you the facility. That was the main room, somewhere you can go once you've been deprogrammed." I swept a hand out in front of us. "This is the cafeteria. Some of us call it the chow station. Three meals a day and one snack before bed."

His heart rate tripped upward. I felt it pulse against the inside of my arm. Panic was setting in. It always did at some point. A woman strode toward us in scrubs, the same pale blue as mine. Her brilliantly red hair was swept back in an intricate braid that accentuated her lean face and bright green eyes.

"Esther, how's it going?" I asked.

"Fine as always, Fiona." She bobbed her head at me as she passed, a smile on her lips that didn't come near to touching her eyes. Eyes that looked empty to me despite the dazzling color, which sparked a sadness I couldn't deny. "I'm headed to round up the crew from the sunroom. Meet me back here in fifteen?"

"Will do, just finishing up with . . ." I paused, waiting for his name.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not giving you my name if you're just going to change it."

"Who says we're going to change it?"

He jerked me toward him, impressive considering his current predicament. "Your name is the Phoenix. Not Fiona. And that's Easter. Not Esther. I know her. She worked for Mancini!"

Names from the past, names that likely were never real. I lifted a hand and patted him on the cheek. "You'll see, nothing is as we think, nothing is real but this place. Your name?"

He hunched his shoulders and I slid my arm from his jacket, turning him to face me. "Trust me when I say that you want to give me your name now, or others will get it from you in a far more unpleasant fashion."

Our eyes locked, and I tried to convey that this was stupid, that his name wasn't worth fighting over. But he was young, full of piss and vinegar, and he didn't understand what he was up against. He would, but today he still thought he could fight his way out of here.

He was wrong.

They'd all been wrong.

"I don't know what they did to you. I don't know how they even got us all here. But I'm fucking out of here!" He took a few steps back and a glow emanated from him, followed by a flash of light that forced me to turn my head and close my eyes as a power rippled outward that was less than human. His straitjacket shredded, and I realized that whatever sedative they'd given him had worn off and he'd been hiding it well.

An alarm went off, the pounding of boots clattered across the linoleum, and a voice boomed over the PA system.

"EVERYONE DOWN."

I lowered myself to my belly and put my hands to the back of my head as the armed guards poured in around us.

Pressed my face to the cool of the floor as the young man screamed, as the sound of the Tasers going off filled my ears.

Closed my eyes as he fell to the ground with a thud that reverberated through my body.

Slowed my breathing as the smell of piss filled the air, competing with the smell of fear that rolled around us.

All of it happened in a matter of seconds. Twelve to be exact. The guards knew how to get a greenhorn locked down fast, always under fifteen seconds. They were punished if it took longer. I'd seen the trouble for being slow, once. Just once.

A tap on my shoulder and I opened my eyes. "You're good, Fiona. We'll take it from here."

I pushed slowly to my feet, contracting every muscle with purpose. "Thanks, George."

The head guard gave me a wink. "George the dragon slayer, isn't that what you called me?"

"George the dragon slayer," I said softly, a smile on my cold lips. "My favorite knight in shining armor."

I turned to watch as George and the other guards scooped up the young man. He was out cold, and the toes of his cowboy boots dragged across the floor as they removed him. My skin prickled a split second before Esther spoke to me, sneaking up on my right side.

"They always have to fight it, don't they?"

"I wish they wouldn't," I said, "but we all did."

"Who'd have thought you'd be such a softie underneath it all? Your story was the worst, but you're the good kid here. The teacher's pet." She laughed, but the laugh was forced. False.

I smiled. "Yeah, who'd have thought it?" I took a few steps, following the guards and the out-cold kid.

"You can let them do their job, Fiona," she called after me. "You don't have to help that kid."

I shrugged. "I'll be back in time for chow. Don't you wish I'd been around when you were going through your admittance?"

Her face faltered as if I'd slapped her. "Yeah, I do." She shook it off. "You'd better hurry after your new friend. I am not saving you any food!" Her forced laugh followed me, chasing me down the halls that led to the dormitories. We all had individual rooms lined up and down the same bright hall with too many lights and not enough air vents.

I didn't try to keep my steps light—sneaking up on the guards was not a good idea if you liked your face free of bruises. "George." I said his name long before I was within reach of a closed fist or a backhand.

George lifted his face guard as he turned toward me, standing at the opening to one of the previously empty rooms. Its occupant had died the day before. His body had been dragged out in front of me. I wasn't supposed to see it.

I can help you forget that sight. Do you want to forget?

I shook my head, but George didn't seem to notice or maybe he was used to me reacting to things he couldn't see or hear. Maybe he knew about the voice in my head.

"You think you can reach him? Calm him down like you do the others?" he asked.

The smell of urine wafted through the door as I drew close, competing with the industrial cleaner that had been used on the floor just that morning. "I want to try," I said. "He's young. I feel bad for him."

"Well, you've got until the doc shows up to sedate him," George said.

I slipped into the room, edging past him and the other guards. "Make sure the camera is recording. You don't want to get in trouble for that."

"Shit, I always forget. Thanks," George muttered, then snapped an order and sent one of the other guards off running to the control room.

I crouched beside the kid and scooped him up so his head was in my lap. I bent over him, my hair falling in a vivid blond wave that hid my mouth from being easily read by anyone, cameras or not. This was where it got tricky. The fingers I could always feel inside my head were there, but they were not paying attention. They were distracted. Not for long, but I had this moment and I used it to full effect.

"If you're awake, don't open your eyes. Squint them."

A soft squint followed.

"Listen to me and do exactly as I say if you ever want to see the light of day."

Another squint.

"Let them believe you are broken. Give them what they want."

His eyes opened then.

"Camera's on," George called out.

The fingers tightened as if they realized they had not seen something they should have.

"Do you understand?" I said softly, louder than before. "You need to let the doctors help you. They will help you."

The kid swallowed hard. "And what about you?"

"I'll be around." I forced a smile to my lips again. Something in me rolled, the part that had to stay hidden deep, far away from the surface. Like an undertow in the ocean, it swirled hard and dangerous under the surface of the calm water.

A leviathan that was not happy that it could not come to the surface.

"I'm your friend, kid. I need you to let me help you too. Think you can do that, Cowboy?"

He blinked up at me, fear thick in those blue eyes that hadn't seen enough years, that wouldn't see any more years if he didn't do exactly as I said. "Yeah. I can do that."

I slid him off my lap. The effects of the Tasers would take a bit to wear off, and there was nothing I could do for him right in that moment. He would have to wait. It wouldn't be long before he was given his own handler. Soon as the doctors gave him the clean bill, he'd be passed off.

Standing, I turned toward the door. George watched me, his eyes far too considering. "You talk to the doc lately?"

I shrugged. "No need. You want me to do a voluntary session?" I offered the words in a calm, neutral tone. Compliant.

George watched me for another beat, brown eyes unreadable in that almost too soft face. His gaze stayed on me long enough that the smallest trickle of sweat started down my spine. I worked to school any emotions, any errant thoughts. My own handler was still not fully focused on me; the difference was subtle, but there.

"Nah, you're one of the good ones, Fiona. I like that about you. You make my job easy." He gave me a wink and then waved his hand for me to leave the room.

"Good luck, Cowboy," I said over my shoulder. "Do what I said, and you'll be okay."

The kid's jaw flexed then softened and he lowered his eyes. "Yeah. Sure."

Damn it, he was already forgetting that the guards had taken him down in a matter of seconds. His ability couldn't protect him from Tasers specially calibrated to knock out our kind.

My handler was back online.

You aren't really an abnormal.

"Of course not," I murmured.

I stepped through the doorway, heading back to the chow station. As I got close, the clatter of dishes, murmur of voices, and smell of bland, barely seasoned food floated to me as the others ate their lunch. My stomach rolled, unhappy with the thought of the food available.

"You not hungry?" A guard at the edge of the hall touched his earpiece and gave me a look. "Stomach ain't happy?"

I nodded, used to the intrusion in my mind, used to them knowing exactly what I was feeling as my handler passed on information to the guards. "I'm going to lie down. Should be fine by dinner."

Across the hall, Esther stood from her table and waved me over. I shook my head and pointed back toward the dorms, motioning that I was going.

I had to have a moment of quiet, I had to . . . no. Not yet.

Breathing through my nose, I turned on my heel and headed back the way I'd come. All the way past Cowboy's room, from which I heard a muffled yell.

"Damn it, kid, don't fight them," I whispered, meaning every word. The soft approval of my handler washed over my mind, and I hurried my feet.

My doorway beckoned and I slid through, closing the door behind me with a soft click. I stripped out of my pale blue pants and top, and sat in the center of the bed, folding my legs and closing my eyes.

I could feel the camera on me. I knew there were eyes on my skin, fingers in my mind, and it took all I had to hold myself together a few seconds more. Each breath came slower, softer, until everything was still inside me, the quiet on the surface of the river, barely moving, sluggish in summer's heat, giving the handler what he wanted. The quiet one.

The good one.

The obedient one.

The one who never caused any problems.

And then I dove through the surface and opened myself to the raging current beneath.