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Indigo Instinct: The Indigo Trilogy: Book Two

Indigo Instinct: The Indigo Trilogy: Book Two

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Indigo Instinct: The Indigo Trilogy: Book Two

3/5 (1 valutazione)
317 pagine
3 ore
Aug 16, 2014


They thought they were safe.

Identical twins, Tyler and Toby, escaped the clutches of a covert government agency determined to exploit their extrasensory powers. Before they regained their freedom, they acquired proof of the agency's existence, proof that was guaranteed to secure immunity not only for themselves but for their friends as well.

They took more than they bargained for.

When the brothers learn that they have unfinished business with the agency, they find themselves reunited with Indigo Children, Liliana, Grace, Eddie, and Rebecka and once again on the run.

They must rely on their instincts.

While Grace and Eddie discover that love isn't always easy, Sarah's life is thrown into turmoil, and her guilty conscience leads to fear and distrust of her own heart.

Intuition doesn't lie.

There are new players in the game and it isn't easy to know who to trust.

Sometimes the right path isn't always the easiest.

Is there a way to give the agency what they want and still retain their freedom? Find out in Indigo Instinct, Book Two of The Indigo Trilogy.

Aug 16, 2014

Informazioni sull'autore

Jacinda Buchmann lives in Arizona with her husband and three children. She graduated from Carroll College, in Helena, Montana, with a B.A. in elementary education and later received a Master's degree from Northern Arizona University, in school counseling. After spending several years as a teacher and later a school counselor, she now spends her time writing, any free chance she can get, that is, when she's not spending time with her family or creating a new concoction in the kitchen.

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Indigo Instinct - Jacinda Buchmann




Snuggled into the loveseat with a sappy romance novel, Sarah glanced up when Tristan's giggles caught her attention. The seven-week-old and Trevor were sprawled out on their tummies facing each other. With his elbows to the floor, Trevor cupped his hands to his chin while his feet kicked back and forth happily in the air.

Three stuffed-animal rattles dangled from an arch that went up and over Tristan's tummy-time mat. The orange giraffe and blue monkey hung limply, but the pink elephant that hung in the middle swayed back and forth in a steady rhythm. A glimpse toward the ceiling confirmed what she already knew—the ceiling fan was off. She suspected Trevor was the culprit behind the seemingly self-motored elephant.

From the outside looking in, it would seem that an eight-year-old autistic boy and a newborn should have nothing in common, but their connection was undeniable. Ian insisted that the two shared a kinship because they were both Star Children. It was a crazy notion, but perhaps he was right. After all, he had once been paid by a government agency to determine such abilities. He knew what he was talking about, yet somehow it seemed crazy to accept that her own child possessed ancient alien DNA.

She wished her phone were handy so she could record her sweet baby's giggles and coos. She treasured the sweet moments and wanted to capture as many as possible to share with her husband. The phone had been left on the kitchen counter, however, and if she got up to fetch it, she would disturb the boys' interaction. Instead, she remained still to record the image and sounds to memory.

As though he suddenly sensed her attention, Trevor glanced her way and grinned. He must have read her mind, because in his almost robotic-like cadence, he said, Tristan smile... Tristan...happy... Tristan play with...elephant.

Sarah smiled in return. Thank you for playing with him, Trevor. He likes you.

Tristan friend.

And you are his friend. I can see he likes the swinging elephant you created. Thank you. She hoped this was the right thing to say. Trevor's reactions were often unpredictable. Sometimes he proudly demonstrated his unique abilities, but other times, when something unusual occurred that clearly stemmed from supernatural abilities, he pretended as though nothing abnormal had happened. Then again, perhaps Trevor didn't consider his gifts to be particularly special—they were simply an accepted part of his identity.

Trevor did not...make...elephant... he began but trailed off when he heard the back door open. Swinging elephants forgotten, he jumped to his feet in one fluid motion and stood squarely in front of Sarah to report the new arrival. Momma...home. Momma home.

Trevor! Melissa called from the kitchen. Could you come help me bring the groceries in?

Yes...Momma. I help.

Trevor rarely raised his monotone voice, and Sarah knew there was no way Melissa could have heard his response from the back of the house.

He's on his way, Melissa, she called out. Do you need me to help, too?

Nope, we're good, she hollered back. Just hang out with your little guy.

Tristan continued to smile even after Trevor had left the room and the elephant had stopped swaying. His giggles filled Melissa's living room with a sense of home and belonging. She marveled at how, in less than two months, her life had taken on a new identity—literally.

With her husband stationed overseas in the military, she had found herself alone, pregnant, and on the run until the sanctuary of Roswell, New Mexico, had welcomed her with open arms. More specifically, the welcoming committee had been Ian, an ex-IIA agent who was also in hiding. He had offered his protection for as long as necessary. Though the concept was still difficult to grasp, he had explained that a space vortex surrounding Roswell acted like a protective shield which prevented IIA trackers from locating them.

She had known her son's birth would create a paper trail of documentation, and the last thing they needed was to have the agency show up on Melissa's front porch, ready to snatch him. Prepared to go any distance to keep Tristan safe and given the necessity to keep the sanctuary of Roswell a secret, Sarah had arrived at Granite Falls, Washington, just in time to give birth to her son. Even before his birth, Tristan had been wanted by the IIA, a top-secret government agency that targeted Indigo Children, specifically teenagers and young adults who possessed extra-sensory powers.

A few days after Tristan was born, Sarah had packed the remainder of her clothes and select favorite belongings from the house she shared with her aunt Mae and returned to Roswell. She had gratefully accepted Melissa's offer to stay with her until Danny came back to the States and they could find a place of their own.

The living arrangement was mutually beneficial to both mothers, and they were each grateful for the company of the other. To make the situation more ideal, Sarah had recently been hired at the same diner where Melissa worked, and with alternating shifts, they shared the responsibilities of watching the boys.

When Sarah had first come to Roswell, Melissa had suggested that she should apply for a job at the diner, and though at the time she'd had every good intention of doing so, she had decided to wait until after Tristan was born. Her procrastination had turned out to be a wise choice, because other than Ian and Melissa, no one in town knew her. Undoubtedly, people had seen her around, but no one knew her by name. Her lack of a social life now benefited her. Sarah Hughes had left Roswell to have a baby, but Allison McKinsey had returned in her place.

Thankful for Ian and his connections, she didn't know what she would have done without him. The same inside contact who had created Ian's new identity as Cameron had jumped in without asking questions and created all of the necessary documents so she could start a new life as Allison. Her new identity even included a college degree. Sarah had laughed when she saw the fabricated diploma and transcripts. In truth, she had almost all of her college classes completed to receive a degree in special education, but she still had one year remaining. She was hesitant to go out and get a teaching job since she hadn't really earned the right. Nevertheless, she was grateful to have the document as a back-up plan in case the need should ever arise to have to use it.

When Tristan giggled again, she peeked up in time to see the giraffe swing once and then stop. She froze. Her eyes remained transfixed to the plush animal, but it hung without moving just as it had before. Had it been her imagination?

Even before Tristan's birth, Ian and Trevor had both sensed that her son was unique. On numerous occasions during her pregnancy, Trevor had laid his hands on her protruding belly and communicated with her unborn child. She would have found it difficult to believe if she, herself, hadn't also heard Tristan's thoughts in her head. Soon after his birth, he had telepathically communicated with her a few more times, but since then, it seemed as though their mental connection had been severed. Ian was confident that her son still possessed unique gifts but suspected that the new, overwhelming sensations of life had temporarily hampered his ability to telepathically communicate. Since she wasn't supernaturally gifted in the slightest and he was the expert, she had to take his word for it.

Ian insisted that she also possessed unique abilities that had been suppressed since childhood. She had her doubts. Wouldn't she know if she were psychic or could read someone's mind? Of course she would. She tried to convince herself that Ian had a crazy imagination, yet a small part of her suspected or perhaps feared that there might be the slightest bit of truth to his claims. He had offered to teach her how to discover her untapped abilities, but she had stubbornly refused.

She was reluctant to accept his offer and even more reluctant to ponder the reasons behind her stubbornness. Was she afraid she would fail and let him down? Was she afraid she would succeed and discover that she possessed crazy abilities? Or scarier yet, was she afraid of getting too close to Ian? The moment that thought crossed her mind, she pushed it away. Nope—she wasn't going to go there.

Instead, she switched her attention back to her son. He continued to stare at the dangling play-mat toys, and then it happened. This time the movement was undeniable. The giraffe swung once and then stopped. Then the elephant swung once and came to an abrupt stop. A moment later, the monkey swung once—then twice. It stopped and immediately the elephant went into motion. In a continued pattern of movement, the dangling animals danced in mid-air. Tristan's gaze remained transfixed to the toys and her gaze remained transfixed to Tristan.

Even though she had anticipated a moment like this since the day he was born, seeing her son's supernatural ability play out for the first time somehow seemed unreal.

She peered at the doorway leading to the kitchen to see if Trevor had returned, but he was nowhere in sight. Though the movement of the animated toys seemed surreal, she couldn't deny the fact that her son had finally begun to reveal his abilities.

She had pondered the idea that he would most likely never be normal. Now that she was faced with the undeniable truth, she realized she was okay with the fact that he was different. Regardless of the powers he may one day exhibit, he was still a helpless baby, and it was up to her to protect and guide him to reach his full potential. She could attempt to suppress his abilities or she could celebrate his uniqueness. She was thankful she had Ian's expertise to refer to and couldn't wait to tell him about Tristan's first display of supernatural abilities.

Her moment of excitement passed quickly and was replaced with a sense of guilt. Her son had displayed a milestone. Perhaps it wasn't a normal one like rolling over or crawling, but nevertheless, it was a big step, and who was the first person she'd wanted to share the news with? Not her husband. Instead, she had thought of Ian.

She tried to reassure herself that this was normal. Ian had been a part of Tristan's life since the day he was born. Ian would understand the significance of Tristan's display of powers. She told herself that this was normal—it was okay—yet a quiet voice lurking in the back of her conscience whispered that there was another reason why she wanted to see Ian and share the news—a reason she was not willing to admit because it wasn't true. It wasn't. She had a wonderful, loving husband who would be home in just a few weeks—a wonderful husband she adored and loved. She only had eyes for him. She told herself this, repeated it in her head, and still her annoying conscience wouldn't shut up.

Ian is just a friend, she spoke out loud as though voicing the thought would make it true.

The stuffed animals stopped moving and Tristan rotated his head toward her.

Hi, baby. I know what you're thinking. Momma's silly, huh? She almost expected a telepathic response like when she'd been pregnant, but his thoughts remained silent to her mind. She sighed and let out a slow breath. Well I guess you and I should get ready to go see Cousin Ian. He's probably waiting.

When Ian had accompanied her back to Washington for Tristan's birth, she'd had to come up with a plausible story for his presence, so they had explained that he was her husband's cousin. Ian, who had no family to speak of, had seemed tickled with the idea and immediately had started calling himself Cousin Ian. Since then, the name had stuck.

Melissa interrupted her thoughts as she entered the room. Don't you have a house-hunting date you're supposed to be getting to?

It's not a date, Sarah blurted out. Never one to be jumpy or defensive, she immediately cringed at her own abruptness.

Her friend gave her an odd look. Of course it's not. It's just a saying. Sorry. I guess that was the wrong terminology.

Sarah shook her head and offered a pathetic grin. Don't apologize. I'm sorry. I was just thinking about Danny and wishing he were here to go house hunting with me. I wish I could wait until he gets home so we could find a place together, but who knows how long the whole house-hunting process will take.

Well maybe you'll get lucky and find the perfect place right away. At least you have Ian to take you around. He's good at looking at the ins and outs of houses. He helped me find this place. The first few homes I looked at had leaky pipes and holes in the roofs, and he knew all of the right spots to inspect. He'll be a great help.

Yeah, I know he will. I'd feel completely lost if I had to try to find a place on my own, especially with this little guy in tow. She indicated Tristan, who was now cradled in her arms.

You're not taking him with you. It wasn't a question. I told you I was happy to keep him here with me.

I know you did, but it's your day off. I can't ask you to baby-sit.

You're not asking. And I'm not offering. I'm telling you—he's staying here with his aunt Melissa.

Sarah grinned. Cousin Ian. Aunt Melissa. Roswell had definitely begun to feel like home, and she was immensely grateful for her friends and their support during her husband's absence.

All right. If you're sure. Thank you. I owe you.

You don't owe me anything. For as many times as you've watched Trevor, I'd say we're even. And besides, that's what friends are for.

Thank you. I guess I should get going then. Ian's probably wondering where I am.

Can I make a suggestion first?


She looked Sarah up and down. I know it's not a date and all, but you might want to dress up just a little. I'm just sayin'...

Sarah peered down at her attire, bit her lower lip, and chuckled. She was wearing Fourth of July capris pajama bottoms and a red tank top with dried baby spit-up displayed across the top of her chest.

Yeah, maybe I'll just freshen up first.


Sarah lifted her long auburn hair with both hands then let it fall below her shoulders. She frowned as she examined her reflection in the mirror over Trevor's dresser, undecided about if she should go with a ponytail or leave it down. The prenatal vitamins she'd taken over the past year had caused her hair to grow crazy long, and it was one feature she was happy to show off.

Forgetting about her hair for the moment, she turned to her side of the closet she shared with Trevor and stared at her limited wardrobe. Still at an awkward post-pregnancy stage, she definitely didn't want to wear maternity clothes, but most of her favorite outfits still didn't fit. She knew this was perfectly normal. What was the saying? Nine months to put on the weight and nine months to take it off. She was completely realistic and didn't expect to be like one of those ridiculous movie stars who pretended the post-baby weight simply melted away a month after the baby was born. Who did they think they were kidding? She would eventually fit into her favorite jeans again. But in the meantime, where did that leave her? She could have gone shopping. Her husband's paychecks, which had to be wired through a few different accounts so they couldn't be traced back to her, were all put into a savings account. She had money. Perhaps she should consider a new wardrobe, but shopping with a baby wasn't exactly on the top of her fun list, and she hated asking Melissa to baby-sit when it wasn't necessary.

She examined her open suitcase on the floor and pulled out her favorite pair of denim shorts. The attempt to zip them would be futile, but nevertheless, she still wanted to try. As expected, they were way too snug, but she was pleased to discover she could actually get them zipped. This was a feat she hadn't been able to accomplish two weeks ago. Her moment of celebration was replaced with frustration when she realized she still didn't have a clue what to wear. Her drawstring pajama bottoms would have been comfortable, but if she wanted the real estate agent to take her seriously, she would need to look like she could actually afford to buy a house. And she wanted to look decent for Ian. No... No. She did not just think that. It didn't matter what Ian thought... It didn't. But she did need to look presentable to go house hunting, so she returned to the closet and finally settled on a summer dress. High-waisted with a flowing skirt, it would be flattering to her figure, and most importantly, it would fit.

She circled back to the mirror to play with her hair. It was pretty down, but it was hot outside. A ponytail would be more comfortable. She frowned again at her reflection. Post-pregnancy hormones had wreaked havoc on her skin, and her face had broken out with multiple pimples. She applied a light layer of makeup then shifted her attention to her eyes. Her emerald-green dress seemed to make them appear extra green, and she decided to keep her eye make-up minimal, applying only a shimmering layer of shadow and mascara. Next, she grabbed the tube of Vaseline out of Tristan's diaper bag and applied a thin coating to her lips. How had she missed the memo all these years that salve for a baby's butt also served as awesome lip gloss? She examined her reflection once more—presentable but natural. It didn't appear as though she were trying to impress anyone, because of course, she wasn't.

She snatched her car keys off the dresser, slung the diaper bag over her shoulder, and was halfway to the bedroom door when she realized that her outing today would be childless. With an inward chuckle, she grabbed her wallet out of the diaper bag and tossed it into her favorite summer purse. She paused for a moment, considering anything else she might need to transfer between bags, and grabbed the Vaseline. With one last glance in the mirror, she slung her white crocheted bag over her shoulder, grabbed the car keys she had tossed onto the bed, and headed for the door, hopeful that she would find the house of her dreams that she would share with her husband.


She followed the familiar gravel road through the gate, which displayed a swaying sign overhead announcing that she had arrived at "Hank's Restoration and Repairs." She continued down the drive and parked in front of Ian's mobile home. It was small, but as a bachelor, it suited his needs just fine as both a home and an office. He had inherited the auto refurbishing business from Trevor's grandfather and seemed to love it. Classic auto refinishing was apparently a natural gift, and though Sarah really knew nothing about cars, it was clear he was extremely gifted at what he did. Thanks to word of mouth about his skills, he had clients lined up around the country. She sometimes wondered if this was a good thing, since Ian, a.k.a. Cameron, was supposed to keep a low profile, but he didn't seem concerned that his true identity would be discovered.

When she stepped out of the car, his two imposing junkyard guard dogs eagerly awaited her. The first time she had met them, she had been close to terrified and had hidden behind her friend Eddie for protection. Now that she knew them, she knew there was nothing to fear. Named after characters from Ian's favorite classic television show, The A-Team, Hannibal the German Shepherd and B.A. the Rottweiler wagged their tails in greeting. As she started for the front door, they each took a side and guided her along the walkway. Guard dogs indeed. She would certainly feel safe in a dark alley at night with these two by her side.

With formalities long gone, there was no need to knock, so she let herself in. Hannibal and B.A. remained on the front porch, left to do what they did best—guard Ian's prized vehicles.

He hadn't opened the blinds that morning, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting. Once she could see, she noted that a half-eaten slice of peanut butter toast remained on a napkin on the kitchen table along with a half-empty glass of orange juice. The door to his office was open, and it sounded like he had someone on speakerphone.

Not wanting to disturb his work, she left him alone and turned on the TV to pass the time. It was almost lunchtime, and all of her favorite morning talk-shows had been replaced with soap operas—definitely not an option for entertainment. She flipped through the channels until she found a game show and stretched out on the couch. When her stomach rumbled, she realized her own slice of peanut butter toast from that morning was a distant memory.

Hey there, cuz. Sorry. I got stuck on the phone. Ian entered the living room—basically a living room and dining room rolled into one because of the close quarters— and sat on a chair across from her.

His casual attire would have matched her outfit from that morning, minus the baby spit-up. Barefoot, he wore a pair of bright blue basketball shorts and a completely mismatched, faded green muscle car t-shirt with numerous holes. She wondered if he had just thrown the shirt on for her benefit. His red hair, which almost reached his shoulders, was usually tied back, but today had been left down, and as usual, it appeared he hadn't shaved in a few days. Except for the unshaved look, which was just his thing—and she had to admit he was one of those guys who wore the look well—his disarrayed appearance was unusual for him.

You're hungry, he commented matter-of-factly.

You can hear my stomach growling from across the room? I knew you had powers, but supersonic hearing? That's a new one.

Now that you mention it, I think I can hear your stomach growling. He smiled playfully, and Sarah threw a couch pillow at him. He easily deflected it to the floor and smiled again.

Actually, I heard you thinking about food clear back from my office. I guess that means we should have lunch before we head out for a fun-filled day of house hunting. I could go for something to eat, too. I guess I kinda forgot to finish breakfast. He nodded toward the toast remnants on the table.

Sarah eyed his leftovers with curiosity. What's that all about? I thought you were usually a 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day' type of guy. What happened to your three hard-boiled eggs, two pieces of toast, and assortment of fresh fruit? Was it wrong that she knew exactly what he liked to eat for breakfast? Rather than dwelling on right from wrong, knowing he could read her mind, she decided to change the subject. Busy morning?

He stared blankly at her for a moment, and she wondered if she had said something wrong. She stared back, waiting for him to say something, but instead, an odd rush of emotions seemed to flood her senses. Concern and sadness overlapped the playful happiness that had been at the forefront of her emotions a moment earlier and she looked away. Confused, she tried to consider where the sudden change of emotions had come from. She had no reason to be concerned or sad. And that's when it hit her. It was Ian. She looked at him again and met his gaze. She couldn't explain how she knew or how it was possible, but the foreign emotions that seemed to have taken over her cheerful mood undoubtedly belonged to her friend.

Pushing aside the how? for a moment, she focused on the why? What had him so distracted that he had forgotten to eat and apparently shower?

Everything okay, buddy?

He smiled and shook his head. Yeah, he said slowly and shook his head again. I've just been tied up on the phone all morning and got busy.

Big demands in the auto refinishing business?

Um...that was part of it, but I actually just got off the phone with Will.

Will? As in 'Let me give you a new identity,' super-secret CIA agent Will?

Ian laughed at her description. Yeah. The one and only.

She frowned. "Well that can't be good. I thought you tried to

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