Invader: Book Seven in the Enhanced Series Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Next Up - Avenger

  Author Notes

  Invader

  The Enhanced, Book Seven

  T. C. Edge

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Next Up - Avenger

  Author Notes

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, events, and incidents that occur are entirely a result of the author's imagination and any resemblance to real people, events, and places is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2017 T. C. Edge

  All right reserved.

  First edition: May 2017

  Cover Design by Laercio Messias

  No part of this book may be scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.

  THE ENHANCED SERIES:

  The Enhanced (Book One)

  Hybrid (Book Two)

  Nameless (Book Three)

  Assassin (Book Four)

  Captive (Book Five)

  Renegade (Book Six)

  Invader (Book Seven)

  Avenger (Book Eight)

  OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR:

  THE WATCHERS SERIES:

  The Watchers Trilogy:

  The Watchers of Eden (Book One)

  City of Stone (Book Two)

  War at the Wall (Book Three)

  The Watchers Trilogy Box Set

  The Seekers Trilogy

  The Watcher Wars (Book One)

  The Seekers of Knight (Book Two)

  The Endless Knight

  The Seekers Trilogy Box Set

  1

  Dust.

  Smoke.

  Fire.

  It’s all I see. It’s all I smell.

  The cityscape has changed forever, its beacon gone. The great tower that stood several times taller than any other is no more. Thousands, caught in its terrible jaws as it groaned and roared and tumbled to the earth, are dead.

  But the question that now stands among us is very, very simple: is Director Cromwell?

  The lull that takes place as we stand and stare at the terrible thing we’ve done seems to last an age. In reality, it’s barely a few minutes long, the stunned silence among our troop brought to a close as several technicians and soldiers return to the communications room in the church.

  Work needs to be done. Lots of it. We all know that this isn’t over, not by a long shot. It may only be just beginning.

  I don’t move for a little while longer, though. I find that I can’t.

  Seeing the High Tower tumble and disappear out of sight beneath the distant skyline of the city is a sight that will never leave me. The noise that comes with it will live in my nightmares forever. The feeling of the shaking earth will linger in my bones.

  None of us will ever be rid of this moment.

  My thoughts turn to Zander. I shut my eyes for a brief moment, searching for some clarity. I picture him and try to make contact, but know I won’t be able to. But I know, too, that he’s safe, that he’s alive.

  As Rhoth told me as we trekked back here from the wilds only hours ago, Zander doesn’t know how to die. And if he were dead, I’d know it.

  I’d feel it.

  He’s alive.

  The tribal leader approaches now, stepping forward from the head of the Fangs, who look on, speechless. His gurgling, gruff voice barks from his throat.

  “So this was your plan, Lady Orlando,” he says. “To destroy your own city...”

  There’s a calm to his words, as if nothing would quite faze him. I turn to see the many faces of his hunters behind, however, and see that the same isn’t quite true of the rest. Most appear shocked, wide eyes unblinking and unable to quite compute what’s just happened.

  Not Rhoth.

  His dark brown eyes stare at Lady Orlando from their tall perch. Hers merely continue to look forward at the devastated city of Haven.

  “Sometimes you need to knock something down to build it back up again,” she says coolly.

  Then, without saying anything more, she turns and begins moving back to the church. Adryan looks to me and then goes straight after her, his own eyes steely and determined.

  “What could bring down such a place?” muses Rhoth. “To destroy so many in one go. What great power that is…”

  “Great,” I whisper. “Terrible…”

  “Yes, they can be one and the same. A great victory for one side can be a terrible fate for another. This is a great victory for you.”

  I don’t respond. Whether it turns out to be a great victory or not remains to be seen. And regardless, this day will never sit well with me no matter what. Yes, this is war, and I’m committed to being a soldier now. But still, I’ll always despise the need for it, for this senseless killing.

  There’s no living with it. None of us involved in all of this will ever be innocent again.

  None of us will ever be at peace.

  I finally draw my eyes from the awful spectacle and make my way back towards the church. Best to keep busy as far as I’m concerned, and there’s no doubting that, even after the last few days I’ve had, there’s going to be no let-up.

  Rhoth follows me, calling out an order for his men to stay outside. I get the impression that he’s keen to discuss the terms of his arrangement with Lady Orlando now that’s he’s completed his job.

  Get our people to the mines in one – well, not quite one – piece, and she’ll help him crush his enemies in return. In all honesty, when that happens I might just raise my hand and volunteer for the job if it means getting the opportunity to take down Bjorn.

  The giant leader of the Bear-Skins has it all coming. The way he looked at me, spoke about me…oh he has it coming all right.

  I enter the church with Rhoth at my back and head immediately to the comms room. It’s full to bursting and I can barely make my way inside. A few crackling words appear to have made it down one of the lines, and the voice of Beckett, the leader of the strike team, filters into the room.

  “Retreating. One man down. Another injured. Heading northwards to the tunnel. Will be with you shortly.”

  That’s all we get. The communicator clicks off, and the room lets out a collective sigh of relief. The look on the face of Lady
Orlando makes it clear that the set protocol is being followed, and everything is going to plan.

  Lady Orlando speaks now as the room falls silent.

  “OK, everyone back to work. Get in contact with whoever you can across Outer Haven. We need confirmation that Artemis and the rest of the Consortium were in the High Tower when it went down. Come to me with any reports. I will be in my room.”

  She turns towards the exit. Rhoth blocks her path.

  “We need to speak, Lady Orlando. I have kept my end of the bargain. Now it’s you…”

  “Yes, Rhoth, I know,” she says curtly. “We will speak, but not now. I think it’s clear that I have my hands full with my own war to fight. We will get to yours when we can.”

  She brushes past him, flanked by a couple of suspicious looking guards who eye Rhoth with the expected distrust. Her manner of speaking to him was rather dismissive, albeit understandable.

  I see his eyes flickering as he considers going after her. A gentle hand from me glides up and holds him back.

  “Rhoth, let the dust settle. She’ll hold up her end of the bargain, I promise you that.”

  “Only if you people survive,” he grunts. “You’re no good to me dead. And by the sounds of it, the fighting in the big city isn’t going to stop any time soon.”

  “That’s the bargain you struck,” I inform him. “And in any case, none of your men were even hurt escorting our people to the mines. You’re getting a good deal here. I wouldn’t push it, not now.”

  “Fine,” he grumbles after a few seconds. “But I’m not going anywhere until I get what I want.”

  He swivels and heads back outside. I consider that to be the best of both worlds for us. Having them here as extra protection isn’t the worst thing right now.

  I turn my attention straight to Lady Orlando, though, walking swiftly down the centre of the ancient church and towards the stage. She climbs up the short flight of stairs on old legs as a soldier darts for the first door towards her quarters and opens up it.

  I reach her as she enters.

  “Lady Orlando,” I say, grabbing her attention. “What about Commander Burns? He knew about all of this. He was out of the High Tower, wasn’t he?”

  “If everything went well, yes,” she says. “Follow me in, Brie.” She looks to the guards. “You two, stay outside.”

  They take positions outside the door as I follow her into her chambers at the end of the short corridor. The fire that always seems to be burning has gone out. The room has gone cold, both in warmth and colour.

  She quickly heads for the little communication device that’s been set up on the small table next to the now dormant fire. A few security procedures and passcodes are input before she holds the device to her mouth. It makes some vague attempt to make contact before eventually failing.

  A frown drops over her wrinkled eyes and she plants the communicator back down.

  “No contact with Burns?” I ask.

  She shakes her head.

  “What was the protocol for him?” I continue. “I assume he knew all about the timings of the attack?”

  “He was informed, of course. Leyton is an important piece of this puzzle. He will be critical in helping to bring peace to the city, someone the people know and who can bring everyone together. He has been kept up to date with everything until now.”

  “But you’re worried,” I assert, reading her face and its admittedly muted ability to fully emote. “You think he might have been caught in the blast?”

  “There were lots of things we couldn’t quite control, variables if you will,” she says. “One was how easy it would be for Leyton to get out of the High Tower without drawing suspicion. You are well aware, Brie, that the Consortium very rarely leave it, and at such a time of war, with the place so heavily defended above ground, him leaving may have been difficult.”

  “So he might be dead?”

  “He might,” she says. “We have no answers yet, but will need to act fast. The protocol will be followed as closely as we can manage it. Yet we are relying on luck, somewhat…”

  She turns her eyes again to the communicator, and attempts to make contact once more. She fails. A flicker of disappointment lurches across her face, mingled with a sprinkling of worry. She’s strained, and seemingly growing older by the day.

  Her tonic, like Mrs Carmichael’s, is whiskey. She pours a glass and takes a seat. I’m offered one too but decline.

  “So, what exactly is the plan now?” I query.

  Her greying eyes switch from her whiskey glass to me.

  “Take the city,” she says. “There will be chaos now, utter chaos. It’s in such a state that we will gather our forces and take control of Inner Haven.”

  I take a gulp of air at the thought. The concept of marching on the city, invading the very place I once lived, is hard to get my head around. And then there’s the perpetual concern I have for those still at the academy, locked away there as the fighting continues.

  “With your permission, Lady Orlando, I’d like to go back into the city and take care of my friends,” I say.

  I stiffen my pose and stand up straight, my request formal.

  She inspects me briefly before turning her eyes away once more. She has a habit of doing so, of never looking at me in the eye for too long. I assume it’s a safeguard she developed to prevent her mind from being read. When being asked of something by a Mind-Manipulator like me, I imagine it’s also as a means to ensure I don’t influence her decision somehow too.

  I won’t.

  Breaking into someone’s thoughts without permission is something I need to rein in. Earlier today, I did the same to West and saw the terrible things that have happened to him, the perilous life he left behind half a world away from here.

  I refuse to use my gifts unless the situation is warranted.

  “I suggest patience, Brie,” she tells me, looking to the window across the room. There’s little to see out there now, the cloud of war too thick to see through, and the light starting to fade as the onset of night approaches. “I will permit you to go, but not right now. You’ve been through a lot, and need to rest. Let’s wait to see how the land lies across the city before we make any decisions.”

  Her answer is direct, assertive, and typically well thought out. I can’t deny the logic, and so agree.

  That’s what soldiers do. They follow orders.

  “Yes, Lady Orlando. Is there anything you wish of me now?”

  “Rest,” she says. “Your brother will be here very soon. Then we regroup, and go again…”

  I leave the room and, while ordered to rest, don’t exactly follow her advice. I feel as if I have a duty now to Rhoth and his men, and so quickly move outside to assure him that Lady Orlando’s bargain will be kept.

  He takes some convincing, a hangover of recent run-ins the two groups have had. We may have worked together in recent days, but he still holds a great deal of distrust for anyone who hails from ‘the big city with all the lights’.

  I pacify him, though, and then go back inside. Adryan is at his post in the comms room, gathering intel from the technicians. Some appear to be struggling to get into contact with our men on the ground. Others have heard reports of a lull in the fighting after the destruction of the High Tower.

  “It sounds like they’ve lost their leaders,” a spectacled man says. “We’re hearing that some of the Con-Cops are retreating. They seem to be heading towards the eastern quarter.”

  “That’s where the factory is,” I say. “The one with the war room and secret passage into Inner Haven.”

  “I don’t know if it’s related,” says the man. “But we’re getting reports that many are heading there in their droves.”

  It’s confusing, and won’t be cleared up yet. I leave the room with few answers and further questions and move to a quieter portion of the church, away towards the living quarters.

  An idea seeds itself in me and I seek silence and solitude.

  I reach
the room I’ve been staying in and find it empty. I sit on my bed and shut my eyes, and being seeking a connection.

  But not with my brother.

  With Commander Leyton Burns.

  2

  There’s a weak link, like an old trail through the overgrown woods, barely visible and covered in weeds and shrubbery.

  But it’s there, a pathway into Commander Burns’ mind, one he himself developed the first time he entered mine.

  That was months ago, just after the attack at Culture Corner that set my life on this crazy, wild path. He looked into my head and saw the attack from my perspective.

  I recall now, sitting there in silence, how he looked upon me quizzically. I wonder if he saw what I was, saw my powers somewhere deep inside me, un-manifested as they were then and yet to develop.

  That entrance into my mind, however, helped him create a weak telepathic link. He used it later on to help guide me a little as I went about my mission to assassinate Director Cromwell in the High Tower.

  Now, I search it out and try to battle through. I picture his face and attempt to see if I can make contact with him without having to use Lady Orlando’s communicator.

  The link is too weak, nothing like the pathway Zander and I have developed. I try to shout out words into his consciousness, hoping for some reply.

  Commander Burns, I call. Commander Burns, it’s Brie…can you hear me?

  I listen, straining every cognitive sinew I have, and hear nothing. I call out again several more times but quickly realise that the path is too opaque, and my powers too limited for such a task.

  I begin to withdraw from the depths of my own consciousness, and prepare to open my eyes, when a faint echo sounds. It’s barely audible, little more than a whisper on a gust of wind, passing through before disappearing once more.

  It sounds like his voice. At least I think it does. It’s too hard to tell, his words so faded and weak. I snap my eyes open at hearing him.

  He’s alive, I think. At least he’s alive…

  But something felt off about, something unsettling. I shut my eyes once more and call out again. This time, no reply comes.