POSSESSION, Book 1 in the Possession Trilogy

Chapter 22

22.

We never let go of the ones we lose.

Jag dreams of his brother Blaze.

And even though Ty is dead, I can’t help thinking about her. What might she be doing right now if she was still alive? Would my mother have been different? I know I would have been. Maybe I wouldn’t have turned bad. Maybe I wouldn’t be in the Badlands staring at the Director on a p-screen. Maybe I wouldn’t have met Jag. Maybe Zenn and I would have been married in a few years.

So many maybes.

As I looked at the Director, I thought of Ty. She was dead, she wasn’t going to come back, but I’d never had the chance to say goodbye. No closure, no funeral, nothing to seal that chapter of my life. No wonder my mother is the way she is—angry, bitter, mean.

But killing the Director wouldn’t bring Ty back. Wouldn’t erase the years I’d lived with a hole in my heart that only she could fill.

I rubbed my neck where the silencer had been. Sticky, warm blood trickled over my shoulder.

“Oh, come on.” Disgust dripped from Jag’s voice.

On the screen, another man had joined the Director. I forgot about the blood and pain.

“Dad,” I whispered, moving forward.

He didn’t look anything like Lyle Schoenfeld’s photo on the back of Jag’s book.

At the lab, Thane had kept his eyes covered and his skin had been shimmery, pearly. I realized he’d probably teched it up in the Goodgrounds so I wouldn’t recognize him.

Because in the projection, my dad’s lopsided smile looked familiar. He watched me intently, as he always had. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, just the way I remembered.

But he had stained skin.

“Hello, V.” His words didn’t hold the fatherly quality they should. “I see you made it to the Badlands. It’s about time.” His voice sounded the same, low and crackly. He looked so happy. “We’ve needed you for a while now,” he said. “You should have pulled a better prank a long time ago.”

“Thane,” the Director said. “We couldn’t arrest her for petty shoe thefts and unauthorized teleporter use.”

“But a walk in the park—”

“She was up to eight offenses.”

“Seven,” I argued. The rage woke, smoldering through my veins.

“That you were arrested for,” the Director said, his eyes all-knowing.

“Still, the park?” Dad asked. I wondered what in the world he needed me for. And would he protect me, like he always had? Or was he Thane-posing-as-Lyle-Schoenfeld, and I’d never really known him?

Dad and the Director argued over my lack of serious offenses and whether or not walking in the park was severe enough for removal.

Jag and I looked at each other like we were watching a comedy that we weren’t quite sure was funny or not. I opted for not.

“Um, I hate to break up your little argument,” I said. “But...what the hell?”

“Yes, yes,” the Director said. “We won’t discuss it over a projection. We have some business to conclude, and we’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Where are you?” Jag asked at the same time I yelled, “Discuss what?”

“The Goodgrounds.” Dad eyed him like he knew Jag’s lips had tasted mine. “Tomorrow. Cam, you have my orders.”