The Prince's Trap Read online

  Landon’s heart quickened with a renewed sense of urgency. Why didn’t she tell me this before? But I can’t think about that now. The time they had spent in the hallway of the dormitory was time Celia could very well be suffering. The thought hardened Landon to his task while Sofia’s words replayed in his head.

  “I have to go save Celia.” He turned and started toward the staircase, but paused after a few steps when he became suddenly aware that no one was following him. When he looked back, the three of them stared curiously at him. “You coming or not?” he asked with surprising anger.

  Katie Leigh and Riley both sprung up on their toes and hurried to Landon. Peregrine, however, continued to stand firm in her spot. She looked conflicted.

  “But this is my home.” Peregrine looked to be on the edge of tears; her voice quavered as she spoke.

  Landon wanted to comfort her, but he knew their window of opportunity to save Celia was closing with every passing second. “Peregrine, I thought this place was home too, but I’ve learned that they have done nothing but lie to us.” She still didn’t move. “Look,” Landon continued, “I can’t make the decision for you, . . . and I can’t wait any longer. You have to decide right now: Are you coming with us, or staying here?”

  Peregrine’s eyes shifted from one person to the other as she worriedly fought through her dilemma. Landon understood she had found a home at the Gymnasium, and that being a part of the Pantheon was probably the first time she had felt needed and appreciated. Without her knowing all that he did, he could accept her hesitance to throw it all away and run off with him. But his patience was wearing thin. Then Peregrine’s body noticeably relaxed. “Okay, I’ll go with you,” she said with a hint of self-doubt.

  Without taking a moment to allow her to reconsider, Landon said forcefully, “Come on,” turned around, and started toward the staircase again. He sighed with relief when he heard three sets of footsteps close behind him.

  It was a quick trip to the medical wing. There was no one in the massive hallways between the Student and the Administrative Towers, which housed the medical facilities on the first floor.

  Hell-bent on saving Celia as quickly as possible, Landon reached for the door leading to the long hallway of the medical wing, but hesitated inches before his hand wrapped around the knob. The impending danger that perhaps awaited them on the other side became suddenly real to him. Awareness of his three friends waiting anxiously behind him pushed in on his conscience. He realized there was a chance for things to go horribly wrong, and how easily one of them could get hurt. He’d brought them along without thinking of the danger, but he wasn’t about to let anything happen to the people he cared about.

  He lowered his hand to his side and turned slowly to face Katie Leigh, Peregrine and Riley. All three looked at him, their expressions a combination of fear and anticipation. “You guys wait for Celia and me outside. I’m going to get her alone,” he said.

  “Um, that’s not going to happen,” Katie Leigh said matter-of-factly as she stepped up to Landon. Regardless of her short stature, she managed to command respect. “You know how dangerous it could be in there. There are countless ways for things to go terribly wrong, and I, for one, am not going to let you risk your life when we can just as easily help you. There’s a reason they made the Pantheon a team.”

  “Yeah,” Riley added with a harrumph as he crossed his arms. Peregrine, however, looked confused as she discovered the two had unauthorized knowledge of the secret tactical team.

  “But you’re not on the Pantheon,” Landon countered.

  “Valid point,” Katie Leigh conceded. “But we’re still not letting you go this alone.”

  “Yeah,” Riley chimed in again.

  “You aren’t trained.” Landon’s voice rose as he attempted to force his decision upon them. “Well, two of you aren’t,” he added, glancing over to Peregrine.

  Katie Leigh widened her stance and placed her hands on her hips decisively. “We aren’t going anywhere,” she said through gritted teeth, putting an end to the discussion. Then her grimace morphed into a mischievous grin. “Besides, . . . I have a plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  SAVING CELIA

  JACKSON

  Katie Leigh pushed Landon through the first door to the right after they entered the medical wing. Landon had always thought it was just another examination room or a medical supply closet. He never expected it to be a lengthy hallway that led to the observation room for Room 132. He watched the door creak closed as he continued to process Katie Leigh’s plan. His task was simple: Break into Room 132 through the observation room, grab Celia, and get out using the back through the observation room and hallway he took to get there. That way, when Maureen and Dr. Wells were distracted by the others, they wouldn’t even know Celia had been stolen from their custody until they were long gone from the medical wing. A breath before the door clicked shut, Landon heard Katie Leigh reiterate to the others, “Remember, whatever you do, don’t let Maureen touch you,” as they headed off to do their part.

  Fearful of their safety but knowing it was out of his hands now, Landon turned and sped down the dark, narrow hallway to the room hidden behind the two-way glass of Room 132.

  When Landon reached the door into the observation room, he paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He gingerly turned the handle and with faintly increasing pressure, pushed the door open. The room was dim, with only a small bit of light shining in through the glass. A few desks housing computer equipment were pushed up against the wall, and chairs were interspersed throughout the space, allowing for several observers.

  Landon’s heart started to race in his chest when he looked through the glass. The bright, fluorescent overhead lights of #132 showed Celia lying helplessly on the other side. She was strapped to the steel gurney in the middle of the room, Maureen Hammond looming over her. With delicate fingers, she checked Celia’s vitals and adjusted her body, assessing her current state. Celia didn’t move at all, forcing Landon to wonder what horrible things they may have already done to her, or if their rescue had come too late. He wanted to break in and sweep Celia away, but he knew he had to stick to the plan. The instant Maureen Hammond and Dr. Wells left the room, he’d shatter the glass, enter through the observation room, free Celia, and get out . . . all he had to do was wait for the planned distraction to clear Maureen and Dr. Wells from the room. He rushed up to the glass, placing his hands against the smooth surface. Wait, where is Dr. Wells? Landon wondered as he looked over the room again. All he saw was Maureen and Celia. But Peregrine had said Dr. Wells was in the room, too.

  He scanned the room vigorously in search of his missing person. If he wasn’t with Maureen interrogating Celia, where was he? Could Katie Leigh, Riley and Peregrine have already been discovered and incapacitated while he waited behind the glass? Had their plan failed as quickly as it began?

  Landon sighed as a wave of relief coursed through him. He’d found Dr. Wells; he was sprawled out on the floor. Relief suddenly turned to confusion: Dr. Wells was on the floor? Was he . . . dead? Landon struggled to make sense of it, but couldn’t help but feel an inkling of relief that at least one of their obstacles was out of the way.

  As he stood behind the glass anxiously waiting for the others to draw Maureen out, Landon imagined what had befallen his former gymnasiarch. Visions of Celia waking up and tossing him about the room before being re-sedated by Maureen comforted him. Celia was so strong and determined; he wouldn’t put it past her to try and fight the two of them off even though she was restrained.

  Maureen suddenly straightened up and cocked her head to the side, appearing to listen intently to something happening outside the room. Landon couldn’t hear anything from behind the glass, but he figured the distraction was underway. A moment later, Maureen jumped slightly, startled by a repeated booming sound just outside the
examination room. Her expression rapidly changed from perplexed to perturbed. She pressed her lips together until they nearly disappeared; her eyes squinted with aggravation, as she stomped out of the room.

  This was Landon’s moment. Without hesitation, he stepped back from the glass, rooted his feet into the ground and mustered every ounce of strength he had. Reaching out with his abilities, Landon grasped the glass telekinetically, and with a forceful pull of his hands, attempted to yank the panel out of the wall. His hands and arms shook vigorously as if he were trying to manhandle a warship’s anchor from the depths of the ocean, but there appeared to be no effect upon the glass.

  Gulping, Landon reached deep within himself in hopes of tapping into some unknown reserve of energy. The burning heat he was used to feeling when he fully accessed his abilities seemed to be missing. He feared that the strange bouts of pain and everything else that had happened during the past forty-eight hours had drained him of his abilities, now when he needed them most.

  Unable to hold the wall any longer, Landon released. Hunched over, his hands braced against his thighs, he worked to regain his breath and composure. He glanced in at Celia who still lay motionless upon the gurney. Maureen was still missing.

  Tears began to well up in Landon’s eyes as the chances of Katie Leigh’s plan succeeding seemed very remote. He was exhausted; his body and mind were spent. How did they think he could break through such a thick pane of solid glass? The pressure of failing them all pressed on him with the weight of a thousand books. A whimper unexpectedly escaped his lips as it became more difficult to control his emotions.

  But knowing he couldn’t give up, Landon did his best to concentrate and reengage his abilities. Grasping at the glass with all his strength, he fruitlessly attempted to break into the examination room. He managed to maintain a telekinetic hold of the pane for only a few seconds. When he released, his entire body tingled. Queasiness enveloped him, seeming to surge from his stomach into the tips of his fingers and toes. Goose pimples covered his arms and legs, and his hair stood on end as if statically charged. He’d pushed his body to the brink . . . another hard push and he was sure to pass out.

  “I can’t do it,” he said through an onslaught of sobs. He fought to choke them back, knowing there was no time for him to break down now. “I just can’t do it. I’ve let them all down.” Landon stared into the room through a watery haze, envisioning Maureen’s return to Celia with the unconscious bodies of his comrades in tow.

  He walked back up to the window. He rested his hands against the glass; his sweaty, jittery fingers sliding against the smooth surface—positioned like a convict awaiting his pat down and arrest. As he dropped his head in shame, tears dripped from his eyes, each one carrying with it another drop of his hope. “I’m so sorry,” he said between sobs. “I’m so . . . so . . . sorry.” Landon lifted his head to look on as his world ended, but he could barely see anything through the pools of water that filled his eyes. Everything had become a blur.

  If your plan is failing, you must look for another way to achieve your intended goal. Dr. Brighton’s words of advice surfaced in Landon’s mind even though he didn’t want to hear anything that man had told him. Even though his confidence was shot and his body was giving up, his mind was still intent on fulfilling his mission. There had to be another way to get through the glass that hadn’t yet occurred to him.

  Landon stood up taller and with the back of his arm, wiped the residual water from his face. Lifting his head, he gazed in at Celia. Her figure was framed in the space between the thumb and index finger of the hand still resting against the window. Suddenly an idea came to his head. Seeing his hand juxtaposed with Celia’s body sparked an idea.

  He jerked his hand off the glass as if it had suddenly become boiling hot. Staring at the lines in his palm, he wondered, Could it really work?

  He’d seen Celia do it so many times. Why couldn’t it be possible for him to phase through the glass just as she did? The documents on Project Herakles said Landon was stronger than any psychokinetic in existence. This should be easier than walking, he tried to convince himself.

  With hesitance, Landon closed his eyes and delicately placed his hand flat against the glass. With his telekinetic strength depleted, he focused on just feeling the glass for the time being. The surge of his abilities pulsing through his veins and into the world around him was calming in this moment of heightened stress. Landon tried to concentrate on the glass, focusing to the point that it became solid, and not fuzzy, in his mind’s eye.

  The wall rose up in clarity. Landon could sense the thick glass without question, and he could clearly see the reinforced beams that held it securely in place. No wonder it wouldn’t break, Landon thought as he tried to narrow his tactometric scope, zooming in further and further until there was nothing in focus but the space around his hand. He figured that was how Celia did it.

  Seeing nothing else to do, Landon pushed forward, hoping his hand would pass through the glass with his body following easily behind him. All he felt was the glass against his hand. But unwilling to give up, he took a deep breath and tried to follow some more old advice from his traitorous mentor. Be like water, he told himself. Be like water.

  He struggled to calm everything about himself—his mind, his body, every ounce of mental and physical tension—hoping the self-imposed strain was the reason for his failed attempt to phase through the wall. Feeling his body fall into synchronization, his heart beating in time with his psychokinetic force, Landon felt a strange sense of levity, as if he were floating off the ground or suspended in a mist.

  Suddenly, he began to feel the warmth of his powers well up in his core, but just as he began to feel comfort in their return, the most unexpected thing happened—the heat moved. It lifted up from that place in his abdomen somewhere below his sternum, where it always rested, and moved up into his chest. Yet it didn’t stop there. He felt the heat as it flowed around his right shoulder and progressed down his arm until he could feel it in his fingertips.

  Landon leaned forward once more, pushing into the glass with his fiery hand. But he was met again with the strong resistance of the thick pane of glass. Then Landon heard a crack. His ears perked up at the sound. Another crack caught his attention . . . then another . . . and another. Befuddled, he opened his eyes and look at his hand. Deep cracks snaked out from the tips of his fingers across the panel. Second by second the glass fissured under his hand.

  The final creak of the splintering glass rang out in Landon’s ear as it was suddenly followed by silence. Unsure what to do next, he pulled his hand off the glass. The instant his fingers broke from the window, the entire massive pane tumbled in pieces to the tile floor of the examination room in a cacophony of tinkling glass. The sound echoed through the examination room; there was no way it would escape anyone outside the room, or anywhere in the medical wing for that matter.

  Landon’s jaw dangled open in bewilderment. But in seeing the path to Celia finally cleared, a resurgence of hope and anticipation flooded through him. Knowing time was short, especially considering all the noise he had just made, he lunged forward, grabbed hold of the window frame, and kicked his legs over the wall.

  Crunch! Landon planted his feet squarely on the debris-covered ground inside Room 132. He looked over at Celia, who remained unaware of his entrance, with the slightest grin of satisfaction. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as the chances of success grew in his mind. Without wasting another second, he headed to the gurney. Small flecks of glass popped under his feet as he pushed through the larger chunks that littered the floor.

  He grabbed hold of the first strap and worked the buckle to release her as quickly as possible. As he did this, he glanced over at her face.

  Celia wore a strange expression of torture and defeat not unlike the one on Dr. Pullman’s face when Landon discovered him dying on this same exact gurney. And
like Dr. Pullman, she had no physical blemish to indicate torture, but Landon could sense the pain she’d endured in the short time she’d been under Maureen’s supervision. He felt it as if he’d experienced it himself.

  After releasing the strap on her chest, Landon moved to the ones holding down her legs. As he loosened the one that crossed over Celia’s thighs, he suddenly felt Dr. Wells’ breath against his calf. Startled, he turned to look, but Dr. Wells still appeared to be very much unconscious. At least he’s not dead, Landon thought, before wondering why he cared.

  Once he’d freed her from her bonds, Landon grabbed Celia by the shoulders and tried to shake her awake. “Come on, Celia,” he said through gritted teeth. She didn’t respond. “Come on! Wake up!” he said loudly as he shook her a bit more violently, but her response was the same. She was out cold, and it appeared nothing would be waking her any time soon. Whatever it was Maureen had done to her, it had taken its toll.

  Resigning himself to the fact that he’d have to carry her out of there, Landon lifted her arm and slung it over his shoulder. Careful not to drop her or to propel her so fast that it pulled him down, he worked her legs off the gurney and lifted her up. Celia was not a heavy person, but in Landon’s current state of exhaustion, she felt like a five-hundred pound sack of cement. Taking small steps, he navigated them through the sea of glass debris and to the window, but as he propped himself up against the frame with his free arm, he quickly became aware that there was no way he’d be able to strong-arm Celia through the opening. He realized all too unhappily that the back hallway was not an option; he’d have to exit through the door into the main hall and chance running straight into Maureen Hammond and whatever other horrors might await him there.

  With a grunt, Landon lifted Celia up higher and carried her back across the room. Taking a deep, worried breath, he turned the knob and pulled open the door into the hallway.