Read Online Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) by Sophie Davis - Free Book Online Page B

you have the upper hand.
No big deal. You can take them. They’re only Talented. You’re
Created, I told myself.
    We were now getting away from the heart of
London nightlife, only a block or two from Tug’s pub. It was well
past midnight and the sidewalks were nearly empty. Few vehicles
traveled the darkened streets. My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. In
a practically deserted area, in the middle of the night, I was
alone with—and surrounded by, no less—four total strangers. At
least three of whom were Talented, and all of whom seemed primed
for a fight.
    Really, Kenly? Is there no end to your
stupidity tonight?
    “ Riley.” James said the
other boy’s name sharply, like a warning.
    “ I see them,” Riley said
quietly. The circle of bodies around me inexplicably tightened. My
earlier concern quickly turned to irritation.
    “ What’s going on?” I
demanded. “I can barely breathe with you guys on top of me like
this.”
    “ Quiet,” James
snapped.
    Furious at being shushed like a child, I
whirled around to face James. Well, I tried to, at least. Willa’s
hand on my arm stopped me.
    “ Look, over there,” she
whispered, discreetly motioning with her chin towards a spot
several yards ahead on the right.
    Oh.
    Three figures leaned against a boarded up
storefront. In the darkness, it was hard to determine age or
gender. But the long cylindrical objects they held were
unmistakably weapons. Adrenaline began to pump in my veins as my
body readied for an attack.
    “ Let’s turn back and take
Prince Street,” Honora softly suggested.
    “ I reckon that’s not
necessary. We outnumber them,” Riley said, shaking his head
dismissively. “But let’s cross over the road. Monroe satisfied my
daily arsehole quota, no need for a run-in with these wankers.” He
veered off of the sidewalk and into the street, the rest of us
following close on his heels.
    “ Do you know them?” I asked
the group, shooting furtive glances over my shoulder at the street
thugs. I felt them watching us from beneath their dark hooded
sweatshirts.
    “ We know their sort,” James
said evasively.
    “ What sort is
that?”
    “ The dodgy sort, that’s
better to avoid,” Willa said and looped her arm through mine to
keep me moving forward.
    I inwardly groaned. It had been work the
past couple weeks to deduced meaning from the nonsensical British
slang. At least dodgy was an easy one; I’d figured it out in my
first days here.
    As we approached Tug’s bar, I thought about
the language barriers I hadn’t considered before coming here. I’d
thought English was English. Silly me. The last thing I wanted to
do over here was ask for meanings. Derisive snickering wouldn’t be
so bad. It was broadcasting that I hadn’t been there very long that
I was worried about. The timeline couldn’t be avoided; I’d been
here the same number of weeks that it’d been since the battle in
DC. To anyone with an ounce of deductive reasoning, that fact,
combined with my Talented status would lead to the obvious
conclusion: I was TOXIC; I was Created; I was wanted by UNITED. I
shuddered, envisioning the number of people who would line up at
UNITED’s doors to provide information regarding my whereabouts in
exchange for the outrageous reward the organization was offering
for the same.
    The Flying Giraffe was crowded with
late-night patrons. The effect of so many damp people in a small
space made the air inside soupy and smell like wet dog. Tug was
behind the bar pouring drinks, while a man I’d seen once or
twice—maybe Willa’s cousin?—waited tables. Since Willa was with us,
I had no idea who was cooking the food.
    Riley chose a four-top table in the corner,
the same one I’d been sitting at earlier. He took a chair next to
the wall and James sat opposite him. Willa snagged the seat next to
Riley, while Honora grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and
placed it at the end of ours. This left me sitting next to the
perpetually pissed off