Chapter 13: Kit And Kitalia

I've missed my bus for sure, but I don't care. I have no idea where this incredible fury has come from-I blame Kitalia-but it's consuming me and I have to let it out. Whatever reason Tom Brown has for destroying my most favorite possession in the entire world, he's about to discover Kit MacLean is less kitty cat and more lioness.

I don't remember running up the stairs to the computer lab, or if I encounter anyone along the way. The only memory I have is pausing outside the door for one moment, taking a breath past the fire in my chest, before pushing it open and stepping inside.

Tom sits at one of the computers, leaning back, one sneakered foot crossed over his lanky knee while a handful of other guys hang around him, their collective glasses and bad haircuts, pale complexions and matching outfits inform me I've walked into the dragon's den.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Not that I'd been thinking clearly when I made the decision to storm the castle...

***

I shudder off the touch of the blindfold and take in my surroundings, the banks of monitors, the bullies hulking in dark corners, but my focus is entirely on my quarry. I can't see his face, shadowed as it is, but he seems familiar to me and my mind does its best to identify him as he speaks.

My adversary. At last.

"Kitalia Ore. Welcome to my humble abode." It was easy enough to find the place. He'd left it wide open to me in Ms. Ming's mind, on purpose I now believe. Why he's waited this long to taunt me, however, I can't guess. Still, I wonder if he was prepared for this. I could have snuck in, or used my power to push past his guards. Instead, I strolled up to his front door and let him think he has the upper hand.

I like having him where I want him. Line of sight makes my job so much easier.

"Thanks," I say. "You know why I'm here."

I can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks, the chair he sits in swiveling gently as he shrugs. No one seems nervous-they should. They've underestimated me, allowing me in here like this.

"Because I invited you here, of course." He gestures around him, the screens lighting up. Images of me flash, on missions, with the British Prime Minister, with J.J. and C1, C2. Of the red dress and the opera house. And of him waving and smiling at the camera just before he spray painted my mirror.

He did that personally? He has bigger balls than I gave him credit for.

While it might be fun to toy with him, I'm all out of patience with this particular scenario. I just want him out of my life so I can move on to my next assignment. My mind gathers, leaps at his.

And he laughs as he blocks me before throwing my attack back in my face.

Fear. Tingling, aching, painful fear lashes at me. Of being a small child, abandoned and alone, hiding in the dark. How? How does he know my deepest fears? Where did he get his intel? It doesn't matter, though my mind flashes to the little girl, the bot in Ms. Ming's mind. The one whose hand I held, who wrapped her power around me even as I did the same to her. She lunged into my brain before I escaped Ms. Ming in Prague. And I felt the same, sizzling fear then.

What had his bot uncovered? I jab back at him, gasping for air, pulling my wits about me. And uncover a secret I'm sure he didn't want me to find.

"You're one of us." CIA. An operative. I hear him growl, crumble as he forces my mind deeper into the memory of being so small, so alone, so afraid, barely able to whimper as he speaks, voice echoing from very far away while I retreat into my terror.

"Very good, Kitalia," he says, leaning forward so I can finally see his face.

"T.B." He was with me in Prague, the waiter operative who handed me my champagne. He's been with me all along, watching me, studying my techniques. But, he's ordinary, not a special ops agent, talentless. Where did his psychic ability come from?

He was supposed to be my backup. And while the two of us have never been friends...

I need to tell my bosses. They have to know he's a traitor and a liar, hiding his ability.

T.B. laughs in my face and I'm a little girl, smaller and smaller, heart aching, mind awash with darkness and the kind of fear that makes me want to wail.

"Just try and tell them," he whispers, looming over me, a monster in black while I weep. "No one will ever believe you. I'll make certain of that. Your days as an agent are over. Say goodbye to the life you knew, Kitalia Ore."

I fight, I have to. I have no choice. I can't go down like this, drowning in my own terror, torn apart by the desperate, terrible blackness-

***

"Are you just going to stand there? Or was there something?"

I shake off Kitalia as Tom's slightly nasal voice cuts through her panic. My panic, too. I'm stripped of my anger as I shiver under his gaze, rubbing at my arms and the goosebumps standing out under the thin fabric of my jacket.

"Did you take my boots?" I hear myself ask the question as if from a great distance, echoing and soft. He nods, smirking still. I can't believe it. I've known him forever and he's never done anything like this before. "Why?"

He shrugs, grins, teeth far too big for his mouth. I wonder if his mother and Dr. Pache worked out their issues. From here, his smile looks like it could use some work.

He's about to comment when someone steps into the room behind me. I flinch away, but Mr. Barrister doesn't notice. The computer lab teacher just raises a hand at Tom and the others.

"Don't forget to email me that assignment, okay?" He blinks at me from behind his glasses. "I don't remember you from class."

"She's getting special help." Tom's totally changed, from tight-faced evil mastermind to goofy, grinning geek. I stare at him with my mouth hanging open-I honestly can't make it close-while he waves back at his teacher, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "Hope that's okay, Mr. Barrister?"

"Sure thing." The teacher smiles at me then at Tom. "That's so like you, helping other students. I wish I had more like you, Tom."

The boy I now know to be my mortal enemy shrugs, manages a blush. "Always my pleasure, sir. Guess I just want to be a great teacher someday. Like you."

I choke on those obvious lies, but Mr. Barrister just smiles.

"Have a great afternoon, kids. See you tomorrow."

He leaves while I stare after him, wishing I could just slink out in his wake. But my boots.

My poor, poor boots. I can't seem to muster the anger from earlier, but I can find curiosity, oddly. It helps me with objectivity and then, to my relief, optimism.

This has to be a giant misunderstanding. I'll figure it out. But, when the door swishes closed, Tom's loose, easy grin returns to nasty as he stands and strides toward me.

I find myself clenching my messenger bag to my chest while he looks down at me from his long lankiness.

"Listen up, MacLean," he says in a hissing voice that lisps slightly around his big teeth. "This is my school. I've been saving up for this for a long time. And I'll do whatever I want to whoever I want whenever I want. Got that?"

"Whomever," I whisper.

His eyes bulge, cheeks pink again but I don't think it's a fake blush this time. "You just don't get it, do you, dumb freak girl?" There's that word again. I flinch from it as Tom shakes his head, thin, brown hair ruffling around his big ears. He could have those pinned back and no one would ever know he used to look like an elephant. "I don't get it. You've never interfered before. And I'm willing to give you the chance to step back and rethink your strategy." He folds his thin arms over his narrow chest. "Stay out of my business or I'll make sure your boots are the least of your worries."

There it is. An open threat. This has to be about Tate, about her being bullied by Donnelly. I don't see the hulking brute in here, but he's part of this, I'm sure of it. And, before I can back out, think better of my reaction, just do the good girl thing and escape with what shred of confidence and optimism I have left, Kitalia opens my mouth and speaks.

"I don't like bullies."

He laughs at me and the others join in. Tom closes the last step between us and points one thin finger at me. He smells like too much garlic and week old gym socks. "You have no idea what bullying looks like." His grin reveals the sliver of green between his teeth. Flossing clearly isn't his strong suit, and his mother blames Dr. Pache? "Stay out of my business and you won't get hurt. Continue to interfere and I'll destroy you."

"What do you want with Tate?" Kitalia, just shut up! But she won't listen to me and, for the first time since she popped into my head, I wish she'd just go away.

Tom crowds me and I back up until the door opens behind me. I glance to the right at the grinning lackey who's opened it and find myself in the hall outside, Tom filling the space as best he can, toes at the threshold.

"Like I said," he snaps. "You've been warned. End of conversation."

He slams the door in my face.

***

I stumble as someone pushes me, landing on my knees in wetness. A car door slams and tires squeal, engine gunning. I tear at the blindfold, scowling after the retreating sedan.

My filthy knees drip mud when I stand, the puddle they shoved me into soaking through my cowboy boots. I don't even try to shake it off, too furious to focus on such details. They've dumped me in the middle of nowhere, though they must know I have the mental means to call for help.

It takes me a while before I do. A long while of lurching between utter rage and the old fear T.B. managed to uncover. While realizing, with sinking doubt and a whole lot of bitterness, he just might be stronger than I am.

Enough. I shake off my ancient fear and reach out to M., calling for a ride. T.B. might think he's beaten me with his stupid tricks, but I have the CIA on my side. Time to call in favors and find out just what he's up to before I tear him down.

***