Dunn took the microphone at the front of the room, announcing that the prize for best costume went to Brett Evans. The room erupted in cheers and catcalls. When Brett didn’t appear to claim his prize, lewd shouts suggested where he might have gone (and with whom). Jillian picked at the hem of her dress, eyes downcast. Teddy scanned the crowd but didn’t see him. Hopefully he wasn’t off somewhere hooking up with Ava. For now she had more important things to worry about: a score to settle. Teddy was a player, and she’d let herself be played.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
IT WAS JUST AS WELL that Professor Dunn was late to class the following morning. Normally, Seership began with deep-breathing exercises designed to focus the mind, but the morning after the Halloween party, Teddy ducked into the classroom to find the Misfits and the Alphas assembled together—an unprecedented occurrence.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Someone broke in to Eversley’s office,” Ben Tucker reported. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t use the front-office computers—I mean, I gave Brett a box of cigars for time last week. We’re not supposed to know about it, but the news is all over campus. Apparently, once Clint catches whoever did it, they’ll automatically be expelled.”
“Expelled?” she said. “For trespassing?” She’d been the one to pick the lock.
“No, not just for that,” Ben clarified. “Whoever broke in also stole vials of blood.”
That didn’t make sense. Neither she nor Molly had taken anything from Eversley’s office.
“They’re already trying to track any students who were near the lab last night,” Ben said. “They’re supposed to go straight to Boyd’s office for questioning.”
Boyd would be more than happy to see the backside of Teddy. If Boyd found out Teddy had broken in . . . Teddy shared an uneasy glance with the other Misfits. Her mind shot to Nick. She couldn’t count on his silence now. Not when there’d been a theft. She had to find him. Convince him they were innocent.
“I’m sure it was just some stupid Halloween prank,” Dara said.
“It wasn’t just the blood,” Ben Tucker said. “One of the lab computers was hacked.” Teddy risked a look at Molly, whose gaze was focused on her lap.
“Why would someone steal blood?” Pyro said.
“Eversley’s research was top secret,” Kate said. “I couldn’t begin to guess.”
But Teddy could. He had said that the Whitfield Institute was a leader in the field of human genome research. And if what she’d read last night was correct, they’d discovered the genetic markers for psychic ability. Any number of people might be interested in that information.
“Brett’s missing, too,” Ava said.
“What do you mean?” Teddy asked, looking at Ava.
“No one’s seen him since last night. He didn’t turn up for breakfast, and he missed his tutorial this morning.”
Ava appeared more thoughtful than upset. Teddy glanced at her roommate, who looked devastated.
“Maybe he’s the one who stole the blood,” suggested Jeremy.
Teddy considered other possibilities. Brett Evans was one of the school’s biggest success stories. A highly respected third-year, he had a plum internship waiting for him next year at the FBI. But she had overheard Brett complaining to Jeremy and Molly that the pace of his studies at Whitfield was holding him back. So maybe he’d gotten tired of everything and walked away. But in the middle of the night?
“He’s not dead,” said Dara. “I didn’t see anything at all.” She paused to take in the appalled glances of the other recruits. “Oh, please. Spare me. You know you were all thinking it. Wherever he is, he’s okay.”
The door swung open and Dunn entered. The students waited thirty seconds before bombarding him with questions about the break-in, the theft, and Brett’s disappearance.
Dunn held up his hands to quiet the class. “I don’t know anything,” he said. “And if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.” He plunked a large physics textbook down on his desk. “We’re starting a new subject today.”
Teddy closed her eyes, focused on her breathing, and slipped into her meditative state. She put the threat of expulsion, Boyd, Nick, Clint, Brett, all of it, out of her mind. Admittedly, she was nowhere near the divine state of nirvana Dunn went on and on about, but after a lifetime of tumbling from one crisis to the next, the ability to calm herself felt pretty damn good.
“To date, we’ve focused our energies on forming a simple mental connection with our partner,” Dunn said after a few minutes. “One person looked at a playing card, or a photograph, or an object, and transmitted that information via an auditory message. A rudimentary psychic task.”
More often than not, Teddy had managed to successfully connect with her peers (though she was better with her fellow Misfits than the Alphas, and much better at projecting than receiving). And she’d stuck with her promise to Clint: she’d practiced only physical telepathy, the basics. She hadn’t tried anything like the astral telepathy that had brought the class to a standstill.
Professor Dunn continued, “Now you are ready to move beyond a simple psychic connection. What I’m talking about is expanding our mental communication. Instead of sending messages, we’re looking now to begin a discussion.”
He went on to explain their task: to set a concrete goal and psychically ask a partner to accomplish it, a job that would require far more stamina than anything they’d done to date.
“Nothing foolish,” Dunn sternly warned. “We do not squander or misuse psychic ability. It is paramount at all times that we treat our partners and ourselves with respect. An acceptable task might be to request that our partner open a door. Retrieve a book from a bookshelf. Write a word on the message board.”
“Excuse me,” Ava said, raising her hand, “but I’m a medium. I don’t see how I’ll ever need to use this. The spirits I communicate with are dead. They couldn’t open a door
