Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) Read Online Free PDF

I was
using my abilities to ensure I wasn’t followed. As added
precaution, I cut up alleyways, darted between random cabs idling
next to curbs, and took an extremely roundabout route. When I
finally dared to stop, to check out my pursuers, I was under the
cover of a crop of trees across the street from my hostel.
    No one was there. No one was following
me.
    I breathed a sigh of relief and nearly
laughed at my ridiculously furtive behavior. Willa’s hysteria was
apparently contagious. Seriously, using evasive maneuvers to lose a
tail? Totally unnecessary. Ghost Girl and Spikey-Hair were
Talented, so Platinum eyes probably was, too. But it was obvious
they didn’t work for UNITED. Like TOXIC, UNITED took care of its
own. No agent of theirs would be dressed in worn out jeans or
tread-bare sneakers.
    Just because you’re
paranoid, doesn’t mean no one is after you ,
a nagging voice reminded me.
    It was true. Someone was after me. Just, not
the kids I was currently running from. Hopefully.
    When UNITED agents attacked Washington D.C.,
they’d taken half of TOXIC prisoner. Now, they were hunting down
the rest of us. Thoughts of their agents, and the battle that made
me a fugitive, were never far from my mind. These thoughts, I told
myself, were what caused me to overreact tonight. Willa’s vague
warning aside, the teenagers in the bar were no threat to me. I was
just jumpy and tense, and needed a good night’s sleep.
    Shaking off the lingering feeling of spying
eyes, I dropped the invisibility shield and strode into the open.
When no previously unseen attackers materialized, I was further
reassured that I was in the clear. For now.
    I pushed open a door with peeling blue
paint, and entered the dimly lit lobby of Ernie’s Hideaway. Calling
it a reception area would have been extremely generous; it was
nothing more than an alcove between the front door and the
stairwell. The reception desk—scratched, scraped, and probably
purchased third-hand—sat back in a slight nook. An oriental rug
covered the tile flooring from wall to wall. The edges of the
carpet hinted at its previous beauty, where the red and cream
strands were still vivid and plush. But countless years and feet
traipsing over the material had left the center scuffed and faded
to a muddy tan with just a hint of pink.
    As I passed, the night clerk gave a
half-hearted wave without looking up from her tablet comm screen,
engrossed in the latest time-wasting gamelet. I returned the
gesture on my way to the stairs leading to the upper floors. All in
all, the hostel wasn’t much, but it had served me well thus
far.
    Few guests stayed more than a night or two
at Ernie’s Hideaway. At first, I’d been kind of freaked out by the
ever-changing guests. It meant exposing my presence to countless
people. Plus, I’d wondered if I should be moving around more, if
staying in one place for so long would raise eyebrows. Still, with
so much change in my life, I liked having a constant. Until
tonight, I’d had two: the Hideaway and the Flying Giraffe. Now that
Willa didn’t want me in her grandfather’s bar anymore, for whatever
reason, I was left with just the Hideaway.
    The room I rented held six bunks, two beds
apiece. Each wall had three, lined up end-to-end, against it. Mine
was the bottom bunk on the left, closest to the door. It had been a
tossup between that one and one by the window. All of the data had
come down to one thing: in the event I needed to make a hasty exit,
escaping through the third-story window wasn’t a viable option. I’d
done the math, and calculated the odds of surviving the drop
without broken bones at seven percent. Not good.
    When I entered, the room was empty. Only one
other bed was made, meaning that I had one roommate for the night,
but that he or she wasn’t here. Good. I wanted to be alone.
    I plopped down on the thin mattress,
bedsprings squeaking faintly, and dug out the bootleg communicator
I’d spent a large portion of my limited