The Prince's Trap Page 4

  Celia gave Landon a disappointed look. “Whatever’s necessary, Landon. Whatever’s necessary.” She stopped talking, but after looking upon Landon’s expression of disbelief, she added defensively, “What? It’s not like I’m saying to kill someone or anything. Just injure one of the Pantheon members so they have to be taken off active duty for a while. Nothing they can’t recover from, but just enough that they’ll have to replace ‘em.”

  “Celia, don’t you think you’re getting way ahead of yourself? We don’t even know what the Qualifiers are,” Landon said, attempting to convince her to dismiss her idea.

  “You’re right, we need more information. Katie Leigh probably knows all about them. She’s quite the clever girl. . . .” Celia voice trailed off again. “All right, so it’s nearly ten o’clock. We can ask Katie about the Qualifiers later at lunch. And we better head to Tactometry if we don’t want to be late.”

  Landon groaned and lethargically rose up from his bed, following Celia out of his room. Just as Celia pulled the door open and ushered him into the hallway, he remembered he’d left something out.

  “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, some new guy showed up as we were leaving the Olympic Tower earlier. Cortland said his name was Washington Sykes. He used to be on the Pantheon, but now he’s a . . . Sentry, I think. Do you have any idea what that is?”

  Celia stopped dead in her tracks and quickly pulled the door shut. “A Sentry? A Sentry arrived?” The dramatic change in her expression made Landon suddenly nervous; she looked afraid. “Seriously, Landon, a Sentry is here . . . in the Gymnasium?”

  “Yeah,” Landon answered as if it were nothing, in an attempt to ease the building tension. “Cortland said it’s just some kind of security guard.” Celia’s tense expression didn’t seem to wane with Landon’s dismissive comment. “But . . . by the look on your face, I’m going to say he’s not just a security guard . . . is he?”

  “Landon,” she answered tersely, “let me put this simply. If Washington Sykes really is a Sentry, we have a serious problem on our hands—a very serious problem.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  TRAGEDY IN

  TACTOMETRY

  They set up Tactometry training in its usual fashion. A series of floor mats were laid out in a perfect grid on the ground, and today, a wooden box with a dark green cloth folded on top rested next to each one. When Riley first told Landon that Tactometry training was nothing more than glorified meditation, he was correct for the most part. Professor Tzu liked for people to become introspective during their training sessions to focus on their senses and “calm their emotions to truly feel the world around them” with their abilities.

  The limits of a psychokinetic’s influence were contained within his tactometric sphere, the physical distance one’s gifts could reach. As such, Tactometry was a fundamental aspect of a psychokinetic’s training—for if one couldn’t sense the world around oneself, one couldn’t interact with it, and if one couldn’t interact with it, then one’s abilities would not be an asset, but nothing more than a talent.

  Landon headed for the farthest available mat from Celia. During their walk from his dorm to the training room, she couldn’t stop saying, “You should have told me about Washington right away.” The number of people roaming the halls prevented her from saying anything further, and they both were walking at such a fast pace, so as not to be late, that she never attempted to use their mental connection to have a more in-depth conversation.

  Landon still had no idea what was so serious about the arrival of the Sentry. Just as Celia had begun to explain, Brock opened the door to the dorm room, which immediately shut her up. Landon was still curious, and a bit frightened, after Celia’s reaction, but with the day he’d already had, he figured he could wait until the training day was over to find out. And he needed to be completely focused in Tactometry; otherwise, he was about as useless as a computer without the Internet.

  Even after nearly a year of training, Landon was horrible at staying in tune with his senses. He had a much better grip on his overall abilities since his extensive training with Dr. Brighton, but his strengths really revolved around telekinesis. It tended to require a lot more instinct and gut reaction, which seemed to work for him. Unless he was really concentrating, he was next to hopeless with any of the other abilities, like thought reception, that required a more subtle hand.

  And unlike Peregrine, whose tactometric sphere was hypersensitive and seemingly limitless, Landon tended to only lift the things he could physically see. The world according to his abilities still felt more like distant sensations, similar to the tingle in the back of the neck when someone knows they’re being watched, or the dull hum in one’s ear when something’s out of balance, rather than a true perception of the world. With his abilities alone, he couldn’t tell a trash can from a human most days, so he always dreaded Tactometry, but since he was recruited to the Pantheon, especially in situations like he’d experienced that morning, he understood its merits all too well.

  Landon lowered himself onto a mat near the front of the training room and crossed his legs. Attempting to prepare himself for the lesson, which was to begin in mere moments, he shut his eyes and did all he could to block from his mind the events that had transpired, and the related questions. The techniques Dr. Brighton had taught him really helped him to shut off his brain.

  “I really cannot believe they brought a Sentry here. This is a serious issue. This changes everything, I hope you know.” Celia’s voice resonated at an astounding volume through Landon’s head, forcing him to hunch over and draw his hands to his temples.

  Landon first looked around to see if anyone had noticed his pained reaction or seemed to hear Celia’s voice too, but they all appeared totally lost in their own minds. He still could not understand why he and Celia had this strange mental connection that fell outside what they’d been told were the limitations of their abilities.

  According to their orientation and training in thought reception, they should only be able to hear outwardly projected thoughts, like prayer, but Landon and Celia could converse at length without moving their mouths, or being overheard.

  “We really can’t talk about this now, Celia,” Landon replied telepathically as he gave Celia an emphatic stare over his shoulder. “I have to concentrate. You know how bad I am at this.”

  “Fine, I guess it can wait until we’re out of here.” Landon was dumbstruck by how easily Celia gave into his request. She wasn’t one to give up without a fight, or to not get her way.

  “Thanks,” he returned in thought.

  Just as Landon turned back toward the front of the training room, Professor Tzu entered through the back door. Unlike Dr. Brighton, neither Professor Tzu nor Professor Clemens, who taught Thought Reception, were psychokinetic. Over the course of the year, Landon had discovered Clemens was ex-military, a former high-ranking communications officer, and Professor Tzu was actually a former college professor who had a focus in philosophy and psychology.

  “Class, today I have devised a very special exercise for you!” Professor Tzu spoke with such gusto and enthusiasm, as if the students should prepare for a lesson that was sure to blow their minds. “We have done many things in this exciting area of your training. We have attempted to stretch the limits of your tactometric sphere; we’ve worked to hone your sensitivity, seeing beyond what can be seen; we’ve even done exercises that don’t require your special gifts, merely attempting to quiet our minds and allowing you to connect with your primal selves. But today, we will attempt to pair your tactometric perceptions with its psychokinetic brother, telekinesis.”

  Landon watched as the others in the room whispered and looked back and forth at one another, confused.

  Professor Tzu reached over to his desk and lifted up a wooden box identical to the ones placed throughout the room.

  “In this box lies a
maze unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and lost within that maze is a single, lonely ball.” Professor Tzu began to walk up and down the aisles of the classroom. From their seats on the floor, the students looked up at him and the box as he passed. “There is only one way to succeed. You must concentrate on the labyrinth hidden inside, feeling its twists and turns, recognizing its deceptive traps, and guide the ball from its dark captivity into the light through the single exit located on the side of the box.”

  “This sounds like something we should be doing in Telekinesis with Dr. Brighton,” Luisa Garcia said as she moved her thick, black hair off her tanned face.

  Professor Tzu turned on the balls of his feet until he was looking directly at Luisa. “One would think, wouldn’t they,” he said through a somewhat maniacal chuckle. “But Dr. Brighton and I agree that it isn’t enough to work solely on one aspect of your gifts at a time. They are intended to be paired and used in perfect synchronization. If one is to master their abilities, one must be able to do more than simply feel what his eyes cannot see. One must be able to know everything around him, from the obvious, like a desk, to the hidden, like what’s inside this box. They must then be able to utilize their other skills, like telekinesis, and interact with that environment. This is the perfect exercise to test just that.”

  Luisa lowered her head, embarrassed and ashamed at questioning the professor. Landon’s blood was pumping in anticipation of the exercise. As Professor Tzu described it, he became more and more convinced he’d never manage to do what was being asked.

  “But this is not all, my pupils,” Professor Tzu continued. “You will not only guide the ball out of the labyrinth box, but you will do it wearing this.” Professor Tzu reached into his back pocket and pulled out a long strip of green cloth with a flourish of his hand. A few of the students gasped, which Landon imagined made Professor Tzu ecstatic. Like Dr. Wells, he had a thing for the theatrical. With a large grin on his face, he added, “That’s right! You will be blindfolded while you do this.

  “But I’m not done yet,” he said as he wiggled his finger in front of him. “You will also not be permitted to move the box from where it currently rests. You may not touch it, move it, lift it, or anything of the sort. You must stay on your mat, blindfolded, and perform the exercise from that distance. Break any of these rules, and you fail the day.”

  Landon was a bit surprised when he heard a large number of people let out an audible huff of preemptive defeat along with him. Apparently, he wasn’t alone in his conviction that the exercise was impossible.

  Professor Tzu acted as if he didn’t hear the students’ reactions, though, and asked everyone to don the blindfolds sitting on their boxes, get comfortable on their mats, and begin the exercise.

  Landon grabbed the green strip of fabric that sat atop the wooden box and pulled it up to his face, tying it at the back of his head. Landon wasn’t entirely sure why the blindfolds were necessary. He always needed to close his eyes when doing an exercise like this. He tended to draw on the night in the Atrium with Peregrine when she first showed him how to feel with his abilities.

  The sounds of students rustling and shifting slowly dissipated until the room fell into complete silence. Just as Peregrine had instructed that night, Landon closed his eyes and first focused on steadying his breathing. Slowly, he became aware of his body, feeling his lungs expand with every breath, noticing his hair move ever so slightly from the gentle wisps of air that blew over his arm. Concentrating on his pulse, Landon sensed every pump of his heart, and followed that pulse as it coursed through his veins, but he didn’t stop when it reached the farthest extremities of his body. He followed that pulse as it moved outside of himself and resonated around him, until he became aware of his surroundings.

  It was hard for him to recognize his box. The number of people and boxes throughout the room were all fuzzy blips in his mind, and he always had problems distinguishing one thing from another. He tried to concentrate his senses on the object in front of him, working to shut down his other senses so that his abilities were the only thing left.

  As he did this, he felt an unfamiliar calm wash over him. For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t thinking about his missions, his deceptions, Celia, the Pantheon, training, issues with his friends, anything. His mind was finally quiet. An almost imperceptible smile forced its way onto Landon’s face. He could have stayed like this forever. Maybe Professor Tzu’s methods, crazy as he seemed, had some grounds.

  Landon took another deep breath and focused on his box. To his surprise, he could make out the structure without issue. The sensation was strange as he couldn’t see the box, or feel the wood, but in the back of his mind, he could tell it was a box—but not only a box. It was a box with a complicated maze and a ball trapped inside. He wondered if this was how Peregrine saw the world. Was her world really just a sequence of feeling and faith that those feelings weren’t playing tricks on her?

  Landon concentrated on the ball. Raising his right hand off his lap, he began to guide the ball telekinetically through the labyrinth. Landon couldn’t believe the task was going so well. As he slowly built up confidence, he thought that perhaps this exercise wasn’t as impossible as he had originally believed.

  • • • • •

  After what seemed like hours, Landon began to reject his earlier belief that the exercise was doable, and now believed it to be unfair. He might have had a better grasp of his tactometric sensitivity than ever before, but he was now certain that the maze they were required to navigate was beyond the realms of human logic.

  As time progressed, and his frustration increased, his ability to sense the labyrinth inside the box waned. He couldn’t help but give Professor Tzu and Dr. Brighton credit, because this was obviously the real test of the exercise. Landon wasn’t sure if everyone else could see it too, but the subtext of their lessons never seemed to get by him. In his mind, the professors never intended the exercise to really be about moving a ball through a maze while blindfolded, but to test the limits of their patience. Could they maintain their composure and concentration during a seemingly impossible task without giving into their frustrations and accepting failure? It was a test of perseverance.

  Landon tried to focus a bit more but his feeling of the maze grew fuzzy. He paused for a moment, attempting to collect himself, steady his breathing, and quiet his mind, but he couldn’t seem to reach that same internal peace he’d found when the lesson began. After another ten minutes, he’d navigated nothing but dead ends and traps in the maze. The sound of the ball against the wood made him cringe.

  Come on, Landon, he told himself. Just this morning, you managed to blow up an atomizer in a box without anyone else noticing. This should be a piece of cake.

  “I’m not gonna lie, that was a pretty brilliant use of your abilities.” Celia’s voice echoed through Landon’s head as she communicated with him telepathically. In Landon’s focus on the task, he’d unwittingly opened up his mind to her.

  As if someone had switched off the power in his body, Landon’s shoulders and head dropped, defeated. He knew his chances of finishing the exercise now were impossible. “Can you get out of my head?” Landon replied. “I asked you to stay out of my head while we were here. I’m not good at this.”

  “I know, but I wanted to tell you that I’ve been thinking, and we’ll figure out something to do with the Sentry.” She must have realized her earlier badgering of Landon had been uncalled-for. “I’ll talk to my handler, and I’m sure they’ll know of a way to get through it.”

  “Celia, I don’t want to talk about this now.” Landon hoped his current lack of interest in the conversation was being communicated through their telepathic connection with as much fervor as he intended.

  “Landon, it’s just . . . I should have reacted better.”

  “Get out of my head, Celia. We can talk about this later.” Landon clenc
hed his fists as his irritations festered inside.

  “It’s just that a Sentry really changes everything, you know?”

  “Get out of my head, Celia.” His patience was wearing thin.

  She continued as if she had not heard a word he said. “Well, how would you know, you have no experience—”

  “Get out!” Before Landon could stop himself, the words escaped his lips, immediately followed by a sharp spark of pain in his head. Instinctively he crouched forward and pulled the blindfold off his head, clutching it in his hands.

  A number of students screamed; in their vulnerable state, Landon’s yell scared them.

  “Mr. Wicker,” Professor Tzu called assertively, “your screaming is not going to get the ball out of the box any sooner. You must learn to control your emotions.”

  Landon flushed with embarrassment. He couldn’t believe he had erupted like that.

  “And Ms. Jackson,” Professor Tzu continued, “this is a serious training session . . . not naptime. Ms. Jackson!” Professor Tzu began to rise from behind his desk. “Ms. Jackson!”

  Landon quickly looked over his shoulder at Celia. Like a discarded rag doll, she was sprawled out on the floor.

  A buzz sounded in Landon’s ears as blood filled his head. Oh no! Not again! I just can’t have done this again! “Celia!” Running on adrenaline and fear, he bolted from his mat and rushed over to where she was lying, taking long zigzagging strides to navigate around the other students, who were systematically removing their own blindfolds to see what was going on.

  He dropped to the floor at her side, shoving his arms under her torso and lifting her head off the ground. She felt warm, but her arms dangled at her side and her head fell back in the crux of his arm. Images of his mother on their apartment floor flooded into his mind in painful sequence. He saw her body, lying lifelessly on the floor and surrounded by the books she loved so dearly, as blood pouring from a gash in her head soaked the floor. He remembered the way her body felt heavy and limp as he tried to wake her up. He could feel the panic surging up through him. His breathing was erratic, his eyes filling with tears. How could this happen again?