Alive Again: Awakening (Book 1)

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I jerked awake, sitting up.

Both Maple and Beetle were shaking me.

"Robby," Maple said, pulling my arm. I looked at her and yawned.

"Robby?" I asked. She nodded energetically.

"It's short for Robyn."

"Mhmm," I mumbled standing, "Sure thing."

Brandon was brushing himself off, and Delilah was packing a few things up.

"All right, troops," Brandon called, "Let's move out!"

I walked over to Sting. I hadn't realized it until I was standing there, but both Beetle and Maple were holding my hands, like little munchkin followers. If I weren't groggy, I would have been flattered, as one should be to discover one's own munchkin followers.

I looked down at the both of them. Maple was smiling happily, and Beetle looked half-asleep though his grip was tight.

Maple raised her free hand towards the sky. The trees warped into our hut returned to their natural form.

"So," Sting said, "Who's, um, Mason?"

"What?" I asked anxiously, staring at him.

"You were talking in your sleep," Sting explained. "You kept saying the name 'Mason.'"

My face warmed. Shit.

"My younger brother," I blurted without thinking.

"You don't have a younger brother," Brandon pointed out.

Unintelligently, I replied with, "Huh?"

"I know everything about you," Brandon informed me. "And you don't have any younger siblings."

Annoyance brewed inside me. "You know everything about me?" I challenged.

"Your full name is Savannah Grace Shepherd. You often go by Robyn. You're fourteen years of age. Your date of birth is July—" Brandon recited.

"So you know a few facts," I snapped, trying not to sound as taken aback as I felt, "Big whoop. Doesn't mean you know me." Before Brandon could say anything else, I changed the subject. "Anyway, how are we getting to Washington DC? Are we taking the ground water again?" I asked Sting.

Sting shook his head. "Transporting that way takes a lot out of me. It's an emergency skill. And fairly new at that. I've only been developing it a year or so. Plus, with the Suits after us, we need everyone as close to a hundred percent battle power as possible."

"A bit more practice and you'll be able to transport faster across longer distances," Brandon added. Brandon was probably trying to be sociable, I realized, but why did he make himself sound like such a jackass?

Sting didn't look at him.

"Look, I know you're all still mad at me, but can't we have one conversation without everyone giving me the silent treatment?" Brandon exhaled.

"You made your choice," Sting reminded him. "If you're big and bad enough to ditch us and sneak off headquarters, dealing with a little silent treatment should be cake for you."

"Cake?" Brandon retorted. "You think sneaking off headquarters was easy? I had to sneak into G's office to grab the PDC with her information on it. I almost had to hijack a plane to get down here—"

Sting stopped walking. "Brandon, we get it! You're an A-level Special agent. Get over yourself."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" He retorted.

"You're not the only one who can break rules for a good cause."

"Excuse me?"

"Like right now," Sting explained. "We're not supposed to use our powers on each other, but in the good name of knocking you off your high horse, I'm going to water whip you into next week."

It was official. Sting had snapped.

Maple and Beetle had moved behind either of my legs. I backed up a few feet. 

Delilah joined me. "Well, that's just great. We're losing valuable time, meanwhile they're at it again."

"Is that a threat?" Brandon growled.

Sting smiled gleefully. "Let's find out."