Free Exiled: Kenly's Story (A Talented Novel) by Sophie Davis

James.
    Awesome. Lucky me.
    Willa set her raincoat on the back of her
chair to dry and muttered something about hot drinks. Since the
drying racks had been put away to make room for more patrons, I
followed her lead. After removing my dripping sweatshirt, I
carefully spread it across the seat back. Underneath, I wore a
tight black tank top. It was baggy when I’d put it on, but was now
soaking wet and clung like a second skin. James stared straight
ahead at Riley, pointedly avoiding the sight of my bare, pale
arms.
    Alone with the strangers, I performed yet
another threat assessment. I’d analyzed the situation at least four
times on the walk over, but data kept streaming in. Plus, I was
anxious and out of my element, and the mental distraction kept me
from freaking out.
    “ So, Miss America, I reckon
you have the gift of invisibility,” Riley said, grinning like a
fool. Somehow, despite the downpour, his spikes were still intact.
I wondered whether they were related to his Talent. Maybe he was a
Morpher who preferred changing into a porcupine, and was always in
a state of partial morph.
    “ Miss America?” I
asked.
    “ Don’t like the nickname?
Tell us your real one then,” Riley said.
    “ Her name’s Kenly. You know
that,” James grunted.
    James was the dark to Riley’s light. Where
Riley’s skin was smooth and pale and clearly unacquainted with the
sun, James was tanned and weathered like he spent a lot of time
outdoors. Riley radiated warmth, and was comfortably engaging.
James was cold and uninviting. They were an odd pair. I wondered
how Honora and Willa fit into the mix.
    “ I like Miss America
better,” Honora said. She seemed to be in a constant state of
serenity, so it was hard to tell if she was serious.
    Willa returned with a tray of steaming mugs.
Her waitressing behaviors were evidently engrained, as she placed
one in front of each of us before taking her seat. “Granddad’s
bringing out the stew when he gets a chance. What’d I miss?”
    “ Miss America was just
telling us about her Chrome,” Riley told her, sipping his
tea.
    “ Kenly,” I said firmly. “My
name is Kenly.” I paused, frowning. After seconds of whirring brain
activity, I hit a brick wall at the word ‘Chrome.’ A quick search
of my memory bank and I was still confused as to the term’s
meaning. Sighing, I decided a straight forward approach was best,
even if it meant exposing my ignorance. “What’s a
Chrome?”
    “ Talent,” Willa said
softly. “You call them Talents. So do most people. But here in the
Slums, we say Chrome. Yours is invisibility, is it? Mine’s viewing.
Which is–”
    “ I know what viewing is,” I
said cutting her off. We were getting off topic. As surprising as
it was that Willa was Talented, I didn’t much care about her
specific gifts at the moment. I wanted to know about Lord Monroe
and why this group loathed and feared him. Because they did fear
him. None of them would have admitted it, but I’d seen it in their
eyes in the alleyway. Even hard-ass James.
    “ We call it viewing, too,”
I added, noting Willa’s hurt expression. “Is that how you found me
tonight?”
    Willa sipped her tea and nodded. I wrapped
my hands around my own mug for warmth, but didn’t drink.
    “ How long have you been
following me?” I asked, positive that I wouldn’t like the
answer.
    A flush crept up Willa’s cheeks, just barely
noticeable beneath her dark skin.
    “ Oh, well, you know, since
that first night you stopped in,” she admitted.
    “ Seriously? ” I exclaimed loudly. At
the next table over, an older man turned his head in our direction
and cocked an inquisitive brow. I shot him a mind-your-own-business
glare.
    “ Why ?” I demanded. Though careful to keep my volume low this time,
there was still venom in that word. I was infuriated. So much for
keeping under the radar.
    “ Granddad was worried about
you. Chromes—sorry, I mean Talents—on their own in these parts
don’t last long.