Prologue

What was she going to do?

The bills from her latest home lay stacked on the table, mocking her ability to be independent and self-sustaining. The money she had been able to scrape together was nearly finished. If she couldn't legitimately finance her life, she would be forced into repugnant actions causing a disruption in her world that could cause severe in-balance. She shuddered hard; it was just not worth thinking about. Fear sliced through her. Breathing in deeply, she battled her racing heart, drumming pulse and thoughts. She had to face this problem and the consequences if it didn't get resolved. She couldn't keep shying away from it.

Pushing out of the vintage chair at the Victorian-style desk in her rented high ceilinged, spacious room in a Mexican seaside village. She moved toward the ample, sea-facing window.

Her imagination wandered to Mexican gunslingers sitting outside one of the picturesque taverns on the main street, with a bottle of Tequila at their elbow and a large shot glass between their fingers on the table. Clearly, her love for old movies showed.

The sound of the waves coming to her sensitive hearing seemed contrary to her imagination. Her gaze took in the colourful world built into the forest and mountain of Sayulita. A place where old met new, tradition and modern, a peaceful life versus the hype of tourists sightseeing.

Leaning against the window frame, she sighed. Her mind moved back to the persistent problem of the mocking bills she had to pay and the never-ending sensation of danger closing in. Moving back to the desk, she picked up the stack of presently unopened envelopes. Slowly she leafed through the pile again. Rent, utility bills, an unmarked envelope she was confident came from her last contact. One with so many crossed out addresses it looked like a collage. It was probably from her father or the family lawyer, but it would stay unopened.

Memories surged from a dark, cold place in her mind. The image of her father's horrified expression when she had escaped and made it home. The names falling from his lips sliced through her heart even now ... freak, monster, addict, heathen, traitor ... tears welled in her large brown eyes. In those early days, after the underground hell of needles, pain and the screams of men and women, her life had become a nightmare. Days when she learnt of the strange things done to her while slowly understanding how to control what manifested. Nights of learning about hatred and betrayal from the people she trusted the most. She had been at her father's home a week. A week of confusion, heartache, and finally, the realisation she had no one to call family and no place to call home. She had packed her stolen camouflage backpack, wiped down her room as she had been taught to do in the hell hole and literally vanished into the night. The only evidence of her visit was a letter to her father saying goodbye.

She supposed the same techniques branding her a freak was an option in solving her financial problem; however, it would draw unwanted attention to herself. Currently, she was doing everything she could to stay inconspicuous. Stacking the bills together in her hand, she sighed again before pushing them into her backpack.

The tantalising smell of the ocean pulled at her senses, her gaze swung to the open window once again. A sea mist had risen, ghosting over the water's deep blue, moving toward the sandy beach. A smile tugged at her tight lips. Months of disorientating travel happened before she discovered she could stay on any coastline. Anywhere in the world. The painful discovery of the havoc high altitude played with her "gifted" senses and abilities limited her travel plans to a certain point below sea level.

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Gifted, she shook her head. She chose to see it that way, deciding to accept who she was at this moment in life. To embrace each moment while preparing mentally for the next unexpected internal eruption.

Standing once more, she moved to the open balcony doors, dropping her backpack next to the doorframe before stepping out and breathing in the rolling ocean smell on the chilled breeze. Her long straw blonde hair caught on the breeze lifting the ends playfully before dropping them and moving on to other strands. She leaned on the railing, looking out onto the world of blues, greens and golden sands. Sadly, it may be time to move on, use another name, another set of identity documents, another life.

A flash of movement caught her eye in the street below amongst the teaming tourists and locals. She usually brushed it off as a work of her imagination. This time she couldn't. The knowledge of approaching danger, someone watching her, the loss of contact with two escapees and now, her own instincts flaring into life. She knew someone down there was watching her. Someone was watching every breath, every movement, every contemplation. The past few weeks felt like everything she was trying was manipulating her to move in a specific direction. A direction she did not want to move. She needed help, needed it quickly, needed it now, and she needed a lot of it.

She couldn't go back to her father; that bridge was burnt. Besides, he wouldn't help her. Stepping back into the doorway, she frowned. Where could she go?

What about that group of people that had the shadows buzzing with rumours. The group that had taken down that hateful facility that place of pain, torture and madness. They had been in the area a little while ago, that she knew, but she had not heard of them for a few days.

Movement directly outside her apartment building caught her full attention.

Trouble. Someone was coming.

She knew it, could feel it, and now she could see it.

The two escapees who had gone silent were not the type to disappear without explanation or reason. The only two answers could be either they were back in The Madhouse or dead. If she were a betting person, she would bet the latter and not the former.

Turning toward the spacious room, she took in her surroundings, only one entry point from outside. The bathroom window would not be a viable route for escape that left ...

Scooping up her backpack while pulling her jacket off the coat rack, she had moved to the middle of the back wall of the room, directly opposite the entrance to her suite. It would give her a mark to time her escape. Pulling her jacket on, she began counting; she could feel her acute hearing tightening, listening for any sign of what was coming. Pushing her arms through the backpack's straps before moving to the other side of the room, opening the balcony doors silently, allowing her to step out onto a seldom-used balcony overlooking a small courtyard. Looking over the edge, she scanned for any watching eyes. No one was around; all the doors and windows seemed unoccupied or shuttered.

Climbing onto the iron railing, she balanced herself on the foot-wide ledge, her senses screaming that danger was definitely approaching. She inhaled deeply, braced her legs, found handholds and pushed herself onto the roof just as the sound of the front door shattering inside came to her sensitive hearing. She stopped counting forward and counted backwards while moving silently over the rooftop. She found a hiding place behind the broad funnel of the building's fireplace as she hit zero. Folding herself behind it, she checked if anyone was following her ... no one ... crouching, she waited.

The sound of heavy boots crunching on the courtyard balcony came to her as she breathed in deeply, trying to control her clambering nerves.

"She was here a moment ago," she heard a gravelly, male voice speak, "she couldn't have gone far."

"That is if she physically moved," another more cultured, cold male voice spoke, "but look around; there isn't anyone to see her vaporise into thin air. She could be anywhere."

The shuffling of feet, the slight scuff of a boot against a metal railing, the huff as one of the men manoeuvred onto the roof came to her sensitive hearing. She didn't move from her space. Clutching at the uncertain straws of control, she thought of the group she had heard of. Kept them in her mind. Breathed in deeply. Closed her eyes and felt herself vibrating within. If anyone were watching, they would have seen her disappearing ... into … nothing.