My first class of the afternoon was Talent History taught by Thad Wietz. My interrogation of Ernest had left me little time to search Thad’s file for his red flag. I walked into the classroom and made my way to the front of the room to introduce myself, blind to Mac’s reasons for including him on my short list of suspects.

  The first thing that I noticed about Thad was his size. He was huge. Next to Thad, even Donavon would’ve looked like a child. He had a mess of reddish-brown hair, pulled back in a short ponytail, and his piercing green eyes bore down on me as I went to shake his enormous hand. When he spoke, he had an odd accent that I thought might be Scottish. I was willing to bet that his lineage was what had landed him on my suspect list.

  Thad seemed friendly enough. He asked me to sit in the back of the class and just observe for the day. Happy to oblige, I tuned out his lecture on the Great Contamination and observed the students in the class instead. Nobody stood out as being particularly devious, but I imagined that listening to history lectures probably dulled even the sharpest of criminal masterminds into a near comatose state.

  Thad dismissed class when my own mind had been sufficiently numbed and my eyes burned from the effort of trying not to blink, for fear my eyes might not be able to force themselves back open. I nearly knocked over my desk in my eagerness to leave the room. History had been my least favorite subject while in school, and I truly believed that Mac chose this class for me more as punishment for my attitude since the incident, and less because he actually suspected Thad.

  Thankfully, my last two classes of the day were both physical. The first was a small caliber weapons class, which happened to be my specialty. Guns were never my favorite, less so since being on the receiving end of a bullet. Despite that, I could hit a moving target from further away than most thanks to Henri’s master tutelage. I was proficient with a bow and arrow, but rarely had the patience to put such weapons into practice. Hand knives, throwing stars, and daggers—that was where I excelled.

  The Small Weapons Instructor was Griffin Knight, and no introductions were necessary; Griffin had been my Small Weapons Instructor when I was a student. I had been looking forward to this class all day. Griffin had been a teacher at the School for decades, and I’d started training with him when I was just eleven.

  When I first saw Griffin’s name on my schedule, I’d been shocked that Mac assigned me to assist in his class. I desperately hoped that I wasn’t here because Mac really thought that Griffin was the leak, but instead because he thought that I deserved a treat after all the crap instructors I’d endured. I’d always liked Griffin.

  My fears were put to rest the moment I opened his file. Instead of personnel information, Mac’s secretary had included a note, indicating that I was actually to be an aide for Griffin. It also said that Mac wanted me to assist Griffin because I would be an asset to his students, most of whom were extremely strong Talents, likely to be placed with the Hunters or the Military Police.

  Griffin’s face lit up when he saw me. “Class, we have a real treat,” he exclaimed, clapping his big hands together in a gleeful gesture. “The Director and Headmistress have found an assistant Instructor whose experience will be invaluable to us.” Griffin’s white head bobbed up and down enthusiastically as he spoke.

  “Don’t make promises that I can’t deliver on,” I teased Griffin.

  “Everyone, I would like to introduce you to my star pupil, Natalia.” I waved at the class, feeling more than a little embarrassed. I surveyed the doubtful faces of the seven seated Talents. No surprise there; they were skeptical. Apparently, Griffin saw the same thing that I did.

  “I think a little demonstration might be in order.” He winked at me.

  “I’m a little rusty,” I warned, fearing that my weapons skills had gone the way of my running abilities. At least I hoped throwing knives was unlikely to make me vomit.

  “Duly noted, my dear,” he replied, with a knowing smile. He thought that I was being modest; little did he know. “Pick your poison.”

  Griffin had laid out a number of small weapons on tables set up behind him. I walked slowly from table to table, drinking in the varying choices. After making a complete circuit, I opted for a belt that I secured around my hips, with two six-inch blades. The knives had hand-holds and weren’t ideal for throwing but great for lashing out at an opponent. Both hand-holds had a thumb release button that snapped open, allowing you to either throw the blade or just drop it if necessary. Next, I selected an ankle holster with four throwing blades and a thigh holster with an additional four blades. A Hunter was only so heavily armed in practice; all of that weaponry weighed you down in the field.

  Behind the tables of weapons was an obstacle course. The course hadn’t changed since the first time I attempted it years ago. It was rigged with scarily lifelike dummies that popped out at every other turn. The dummies didn’t actually attack, but you had to deliver an incapacitating blow to get past them. The obstacle course had just that—obstacles: rope swings over water, rock walls, rope bridges, and mud pits. It had always been one of my favorite activities.

  I crouched at the beginning of the course, waiting for Griffin to signal me to start. As soon as he blew his whistle, I sprinted for the first rock wall. Clearing it with relative ease, I took off across the rope bridge at the top. The first assailant stood halfway across the bridge; I stabbed him in the neck with my blade and continued on.

  After taking part in actual missions with the Hunters, facing real enemies with real weapons, the course was a breeze. Even though I was out of shape and sucking wind, I finished in record time, even for me.

  “Amazing as usual!” Griffin exclaimed, clapping me on the back as I stood doubled over, my hands resting on my thighs, trying to catch my breath.

  “Thanks,” I panted, twisting my neck to smile up at him through sweat-soaked curls. Behind Griffin, I could see the astonished faces of the students. Their skeptical stares had turned respectful, and I couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction. Donavon might have bruised my thigh—and my ego—and Cadence might have humiliated me in front of her class, but at least I knew that I hadn’t completely lost my touch.

  The final class of the day was Telekinesis Training with Ursula Bane. As with Griffin’s class, Mac actually wanted me to aid Ursula’s students since they all possessed telekinetic powers. Unlike Griffin, Ursula did have some suspicious incidents in her past.

  Her parents hadn’t submitted her for mandatory testing when she was five, which wasn’t a huge deal in and of itself. However, both of her parents were outspoken members of a rebel group that opposed the testing laws. The Agency hadn’t actually discovered a connection between them and the Coalition, but openly disagreeing with the law was only one step removed from being branded a Crane supporter, and a traitor.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  TOXIC first became aware of Ursula when she was arrested with her parents at an anti-testing rally when she was thirteen. When the members of the Interrogation Division had questioned her, they’d realized that she was a very strong Telekinetic. Afterwards, they offered her a place at the McDonough School, which she readily accepted. Until she’d met members of the Agency, Ursula had never realized her ability to move objects with her mind was actually a Talent.

  Since attending the School and then becoming a member of the Agency, Ursula had proven herself to be a loyal Operative. But while she was establishing her allegiance, her parents became increasingly more outspoken. As a result, they were both currently serving time at Affelwood Correctional Facility, a low-security prison in D.C. The red flag in her file was because Ursula had been to visit her parents in prison numerous times in the months prior to my mission to Nevada. Those visits were undoubtedly monitored. I just needed to get copies of the recordings—another job for Penny.

  Unlike Cadence, Ursula was thrilled at my presence. At least until she realized that my Talent was stronger than hers. From her file, I’d learned TOXIC considered her to be an Extremely-High level Telekinetic. I immediately registered the smugness she felt in her abilities. Her arrogance irritated me to no end, even though I also had a certain amount of pride in my own powers, which may have been the reason our personalities conflicted. I had to keep reminding myself during her class that my primary objective was learning whether she was a spy, not showcasing my clearly-superior skills.

  After my classes wound down for the day, I jogged back to the Instructor’s dorm. My stomach grumbled with hunger. I couldn’t wait to get to dinner, but I was fairly certain that Penny wouldn’t appreciate it if I showed up without showering first.

  Hurrying through the front of the dorm, I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I mentally switched the door lock to open as I rounded the corner to my room. I quickly shucked my clothes and made for the shower, wishing that I was back at my room in Elite Headquarters, where I could just program my wall sensor for maid service. No such luck. Here, I was my own maid.

  The warm water felt great on my already-beginning-to-ache muscles. I desperately craved more time for the warm water to ease the lingering tension from earlier in the day, but I knew that I needed to hurry if I was actually going to eat before meeting Penny. Full of regret, I turned off the water with a sigh and reached blindly for the fluffy white towel hanging on the bar attached to the back of the door. I quickly dried off and dressed in a pair of lightweight navy blue drawstring pants, a soft white shirt, and well-worn leather sandals. I glanced at the clock on my desk. “Crap,” I said out loud. I was, as per usual, late. Grabbing a lightweight zip-up jacket, I headed for the door.

  I made it halfway to the cafeteria when I ran into Mac.

  “You forgot to go to Medical today,” he said as soon as he spotted me.

  “Evening to you, too,” I replied.

  “You know how important it for Medical to sample your blood levels every day, Natalia. Not to mention, you need your injection.” Mac ignored my glib comment. His cold eyes surveyed me disapprovingly.

  “My day was great, thanks for asking.” I smiled as though he’d actually inquired.

  “Medical. Now,” he barked. Mac had no sense of humor.

  “I was just on my way to dinner. Care to join me?” I asked.

  “Natalia,” he warned.

  “Mac, I am staaaarrrving,” I whined.

  “I will have dinner sent to you and Operatives Latimore and Samuels at the Crypto Lab.” Without another word, Mac turned and walked away. I grumbled to myself as I altered my course towards Medical, my stomach protesting loudly.

  After my routine blood taking, chased down with my daily injection of experimental medicine, I finally made my way to the Crypto Building. As soon as the glass doors slid open, granting me entry to Penny’s inner sanctuary, my olfactory senses lit up. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the wonderful scent of Gretchen’s cooking.

  “Roasted hen,” I called. I breathed in again. “Mashed sweet potatoes with honey butter.” Sniff, sniff, sniff. “Greens with roasted pine nuts?”

  “You got it!” Penny exclaimed, smiling at me. “Mrs. McDonough had it delivered a couple minutes ago. It’s delicious,” she added, glancing guiltily to her plate, already piled high with large helpings. Gemma also looked shamefaced for starting to eat without me. I sat down and helped myself to equally large portions of the feast, and the three of us sat in companionable silence as we gorged ourselves with Gretchen’s cooking.

  “Food coma,” I muttered, licking the last remnants of potato off my plastic fork. I looked sideways at Penny, who was staring glassy-eyed at the bank of computers. She nodded her agreement. A wave of exhaustion hit me as I began to digest the enormous meal.

  “The Director gave me the list of Instructors that he paired you with as a starting point,” Penny began just as my eyelids were becoming too heavy to keep open. Shaking my head, I tried to jostle myself awake. “I did a more thorough background search of each,” she continued. “I printed you the in-depth reports.” Penny handed me a stack of thick folders.

  “Thanks,” I answered.

  “You learn anything useful today?” Penny asked hopefully.

  “Not really,” I said, absently flipping through the first folder. It was Annalise’s, reminding me to ask Penny about her Talent ranking. “Actually, there was one thing I was curious about. This first Instructor, Annalise Cleary, is listed as an Elite-Level Electrical Manipulator.”

  “Yes, why?” Penny looked confused.

  “Will you double check that?” I asked. Penny narrowed her eyes at me, but wheeled her chair several computers down. Her fingers flew adeptly across the keys.

  “Annalise Bernice Cleary,” she read from her screen. “Elite levels of Talent consistent with Electrical Manipulation,” Penny confirmed. That was what my printout said, too. I stared down at the file, twisting my face in concentration.

  “I assume you disagree with that diagnosis?” Penny asked dryly.

  “Disagree might be a strong word,” I replied. “More like, question its accuracy?”

  Penny laughed. “Okay, lay it on me. Do tell, Dr. Lyons, why do you question the accuracy?” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words.

  “Well, for starters,” I began, putting a slight effect on my words, trying to match the tone used by highly educated Medicals and Psycho Medicals. “Ms. Cleary exhibits none of the brain patterns consistent with an individual possessing such levels of Talent. Additionally, Ms. Cleary does not exude electrical impulses, which she would if she were, in fact, capable of electrical manipulation to the degree you so claim.” Penny couldn’t contain herself and her body shook with silent laughter. Even Gemma burst into a fit of giggles as I mocked the Medicals’ haughty mannerisms.

  “Care to repeat that in dummy speak?” Penny asked, wiping a tear from her eye.

  “What!” I exclaimed. “The brilliant Penelope Latimore doesn’t understand technical jargon?” I brought my hand to my chest and took in a gasp as I feigned shock.

  “Ha ha, I don’t know everything,” she shot back, her face flushing slightly. I suppose when your IQ was off the charts, you didn't like having your intelligence questioned.

  “I’m just saying that her mind doesn’t feel like other strong Electrical Manipulators,” I said.

  “What do you feel when you read her thoughts?” Penny asked.

  “Nothing really.” I shrugged. “She feels like a normal person.”

  “Interesting,” Penny mused thoughtfully. “I’ll pull her placement exam records and see if there are any inconsistencies.”

  “Thanks.”

  Penny and I spent the remainder of the evening dissecting the other Instructors’ profiles. I committed every seemingly important morsel to memory, making a mental checklist of every fact that I wanted to verify with each teacher. By the time that I noticed the clock on Penny’s desk, it read 11:53 p.m. I yawned.

  “I need to get to bed,” I announced. “Need to be bright-eyed to kick Donavon’s butt tomorrow morning.”

  “I’ll call you a car to take you back.” Penny hit a button on her console, a tired voice answering on the first ring. “I need a car to take Talia Lyons back to Instructor housing,” Penny said by way of greeting.

  “The vehicle will be outside in five minutes, Ms. Penny,” the voice replied. Penny thanked the man and hit a second button on the console, ending the call. I tucked my files under my arm and said goodnight to Penny and Gemma.

  “Oh! I almost forgot! Will you do me a favor and check out a guy named Ernest Tate? He teaches Advanced Crypto something or other,” I said.

  “Sure thing, I’ll have a profile on him when you get here tomorrow night,” she readily agreed. I smiled in appreciation and gave her a small wave as I left.