Endangered

by Michelle Larkin

  He climbed down and turned to face her. “You’re the Myriad!”

  “Aspen.”

  “I’m Jacob. I’m nine. My dad’s at the surface, so my mom had to bring me here. She’s having a baby today.”

  “Congratulations. You’ll be a big brother soon.”

  “We don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl yet. Mom wanted it to be a surprise. Hey, I heard you were a panther. That’s cool. We don’t have any panthers here.” He held out his hand. “Can I see your eyes?”

  Aspen smiled, realizing her privacy was now a thing of the past. “Sure.” She barely registered the fluffy red fox standing before her as Jacob’s small hand grasped hers. Without warning, the vault door deep inside swung wide open.

  Something was terribly wrong. There were seven newborns getting ready to come into the world, but only six would make it. The seventh—Jacob’s baby sister—was going to die.

  For reasons unknown to Aspen, it was critical that all of the newborns survive. Of that she was sure.

  But the infant was in distress. Aspen felt her telepathically reaching out for help. That’s when she realized these newborns were already a part of her. She was aware of them, and they of her. Like a bolt of lightning, the realization knocked the breath out of her. It left her trembling, dizzy, and sweating.

  She released the boy’s hand, willing herself to put the panic aside and focus. She knew exactly what she needed to do. “Where’s your mom?”

  Jacob pointed to a room around the corner. “Room three.”

  Aspen sprinted down the corridor and stepped inside the medical supply closet. She moved the panel aside and entered chocolate. The wall slid open, revealing the same green trolley she and Tora had used to get here. She climbed inside as the tunnel torches lit up. Relieved to find a keyless ignition switch, she put the trolley in drive and headed toward chamber one.

  The infant reached out again with a telepathic cry for help. It was a strange sensation, like an SOS call that dialed straight into Aspen’s brain, making the adrenaline course through her body. “Don’t worry, honey. I hear you. I’m bringing someone who can help,” she said aloud as she raced through the tunnels at top speed. All she could think about was getting to Skye.

  The internal vault spewed forth words, images, and flashes of future events faster than her mind could comprehend. This newborn would be the smallest of the group, but she would have the biggest heart. Her parents had already chosen her name—Hope. The other newborns needed her. She would be quiet and wise beyond her years, her inherent goodness a beacon from which the others would draw strength. She would be the foundation for this group. Without her, Aspen knew they would not be complete.

  She braked to a stop, hopped out, and started searching for the hidden panel. The rock wall was seamless. Everything looked uniform and so well camouflaged that it took her precious minutes to locate the damn thing. She punched in the code, stepped inside her bedroom closet, and threw open the door, coming to an abrupt stop. There, perched on the edge of her unmade bed, was Skye.

  Barefoot and sleepy-eyed, Skye was wearing red-and-white-striped pajamas that made her look like a human-sized candy cane. Her short white hair was pointing in all different directions. She rubbed her eyes and smiled. “So, you’re finally out of the closet?”

  “Been there, done that. How’d you get in here?”

  “Passcode was easy. You should’ve come up with something harder.”

  “You can thank Tora for that.” Aspen set her hands on her hips, trying to think of a way to explain all this. “Listen, I know this is going to sound crazy—”

  “I already know.” Skye stepped toward the closet. “The baby woke me up and told me you were coming. She’s really scared. We should go to her,” she said, already searching inside the closet for the hidden door.

  Aspen stood there, stunned.

  “Like, now.” Skye leaned out, grabbed the back of her shirt, and pulled her inside.

  They exited from the closet and climbed into the trolley. Aspen put the trolley in drive and floored it. “Has that ever happened to you before?”

  “Do you mean, has an unborn baby ever woken me up from a deep sleep and communicated with me?” She looked over at Aspen like she was crazy.

  “When you put it like that, I’m guessing no.”

  “This baby is really special,” Skye said, suddenly serious. “The world needs her.”

  Aspen couldn’t help but think Skye was really special, too.

  “What if I can’t do it again?” Skye asked. “What if bringing Oscar back was just a one-time thing?” She brought both hands to the sides of her face. “Oh. My. God. What if I’m like a battery that needs time to recharge?”

  Aspen eased slightly off the gas as they rounded a sharp curve. “We can run ourselves in circles with the what-ifs if we think about this stuff too much. I find it helps if I don’t think and just—”

  “Follow your instincts,” Skye finished for her, rubbing the phoenix pendant around her neck between thumb and forefinger.

  The tunnel lights flickered. Aspen felt the infant growing weaker. She was dying.

  “Hurry, Aspen. I can’t hear her anymore.”

  With a sense of dread greater than any she had known before, she pushed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and accelerated through the tunnels as fast as the trolley would allow.

  * * *

  Aspen held the closet door ajar as Skye rushed into the hospital corridor. “The baby’s in room—”

  “I know,” Skye said, pushing past her to room three.

  By the time Aspen got there, Skye was already lifting the dead baby from the hospital bassinet. Her skin had a bluish tinge. She looked like a very petite and beautiful doll. Supporting her head as she carried her to the bed, Skye carefully laid the infant beside her motionless mother.

  Aspen’s heart broke as she realized both mother and baby had died. The mother’s blue johnny was saturated with blood. It had turned the white sheets on the bed a dark crimson. A crash cart stood nearby. Blood-soaked towels, spare IV tubing, discarded syringe caps, and oxygen masks littered the floor, bed, and hospital bassinet—evidence that lifesaving measures had been taken. Two nurses paused in their efforts to collect the equipment, their eyes on Skye.

  Aspen looked over at Tora. She was standing to the side of the bed with tears on her cheeks and defibrillator paddles in each hand. Smears of blood covered the front of Tora’s blue hospital scrubs. Aspen stepped over, withdrew the paddles from her hands, and replaced them on the crash cart. “It’s okay,” she whispered. She took Tora’s hand and held it.

  Skye’s arms shifted into the huge white wings of an owl. Head bowed, she draped her wings around mother and child as her feathers emitted a radiant light. Aspen watched in wonder as the light slowly spread through the rest of Skye’s body until she resembled a human glow stick.

  No one in the room moved as seconds stretched into long minutes. Aspen was trying to remember if it had taken this long with Oscar. Was something wrong? Were they too late? She closed her eyes and reached out to the baby in her mind. You’re supposed to be here with us, Hope. It’s time to come back.

  She felt the familiar pull of the baby on her consciousness—like an infant affectionately tugging on a parent’s finger. Aspen opened her eyes. A translucent ball of white light had formed around Skye, enveloping the bed with mother and child. She felt irresistibly drawn to the light. Something told her to step inside, so she did.

  Images of Hope’s future spread through her mind like fire. Her first word…her first steps…the first time she shifted into her primary animal—a white tiger with golden eyes, her black stripes prominent against a snow-white coat. Hope’s innate wisdom and desire to do good were as much a part of her as her physical characteristics. She was powerful beyond measure and would teach the others how to harness their powers, as well. Hope would grow and mature quickly as a Myriad, always with Skye at her side. The two would be inseparable.

 
Skye’s wing brushed against Aspen’s shoulder, interrupting the steady stream of information. A comforting warmth instantly coursed through her body. On the heels of Hope’s future came bits and pieces of Skye’s past: her parents singing happy birthday with a Sesame Street cake…sitting atop her dad’s shoulders as they walked along the beach…riding her bike without training wheels for the first time…letting go of her mother’s hand to climb on the bus for the first day of school…her parents cheering from the sidelines as she scored the winning goal in soccer.

  Aspen braced herself. She knew what was coming next. The images were like a faucet she could turn off at will, but she owed it to Skye to keep going.

  She watched as Skye’s parents were gunned down inside their home, felt Skye take flight for the first time, ripe with despair over her parents’ murder. She saw the faces of human cops who failed her by refusing to investigate, the homeless guy getting a solid kick to the groin with the same red high-tops he was trying to steal. She felt cold on the streets as Skye was getting ready to sleep…saw the dismissive shrugs of passing humans who knew she was homeless but didn’t want to stop and help a Shroud. Lastly, she glanced over her shoulder as Skye was getting ready to jump and saw herself on top of the building, Snickers in hand…watched the syrup dripping from her own chin across the table at IHOP…felt the comfort of the pendant between Skye’s fingers…felt the comfort of a hug from Oscar when Skye showed up at his door in tears.

  Through it all, the thing that struck Aspen the most was how Skye had managed to hold on to her humanity, kindness, compassion, and inherent goodness. Skye and Hope were truly made for each other. They’d make an unstoppable team.

  The baby kicked her legs on the bed and let out a soft whimper. Her skin was now a healthy shade of pink. Aspen sensed it was time to do the blessing. She knelt beside the bed, held Hope’s tiny hands, and exhaled. The same particles of blue light appeared in her breath. Except this time, the particles instantly multiplied and encircled them in a fury of activity with an audible whoosh. The air felt electrified. Loose strands of Aspen’s hair waved wildly in the resultant wind and tickled her neck.

  The sense of power she felt in that moment was immense and intoxicating, but she knew it wasn’t hers to keep. So she let it go. She opened her mind, body, and spirit to let Hope take everything she required for her journey. Aspen trusted this young soul would take only what was needed. She closed her eyes and waited patiently as Hope sifted through her being, gently and respectfully gathering her arsenal for the long road ahead.

  She felt the blessing drawing to a close. The wind dissipated, and the blue light faded. Finished, she heard the faint echo of Hope’s voice in her mind. Thank you, Aspen.

  Aspen stood and stepped aside as Tora wrapped the infant in a blanket and lifted her from the bed. “You did it,” Tora said, looking at Skye. “You saved her.”

  “But I didn’t save her mom.” Crying, Skye reached out and took the dead mother’s hand to caress it gently. “I tried so hard, but she wouldn’t come back. She said this baby belongs with us. She named her Hope.” She released the mother’s hand and looked to Aspen. “She and Hope said good-bye to each other. I saw everything. It was beautiful.”

  Aspen didn’t know what to say. It was all so overwhelming. Where were a candy bar and a clever quip when you needed them? “You did great, kiddo.” She took Skye in her arms and gave her a long hug.

  “I think someone wants to meet you,” Tora said behind them.

  Aspen turned and saw the baby had broken free from the blanket burrito. She was reaching her arms out to Skye.

  Skye wiped her tears and reached back as Tora handed over the wriggling infant. She settled at once in Skye’s arms. “Hi, Hope. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She glanced up at Tora. “She’s so small.”

  “Six pounds, five ounces,” Tora said.

  One of the nurses wheeled the bassinet over and gave Tora a nod. “I’ll take her to the nursery.” An electrifying zap rang through the air as she leaned in to take the baby from Skye. “Whoa,” the nurse said, drawing back.

  “What’s wrong?” Tora asked.

  “I got zapped. Felt like an electric shock.”

  Tora didn’t hesitate as she stepped forward and lifted the baby from Skye’s arms. Setting her in the bassinet, she pulled the blanket aside, did a cursory exam, and placed a diaper on the tiny bum like a pro. “Here,” she said, handing her to the nurse. Another zap singed the air as the nurse made contact with the baby. “Ouch! That one hurt!”

  “Maybe she’s part electric eel,” Aspen said jokingly.

  Nobody laughed.

  She stepped in. “Give her to me.” The baby reached up, and Aspen gathered her in her arms. Hope smelled heavenly. She had never held a baby so small and new. Life was truly miraculous. “Maybe she doesn’t like you.”

  The nurse crossed her arms. “All babies like me.”

  “It’s not that,” Skye said. “I think she only wants us—the three of us. And Oscar, too.”

  “What makes you think that?” Tora asked.

  “I don’t know.” Skye shrugged. “It’s just a gut feeling.”

  Tora stared at the baby in disbelief. “But she’s never even met Oscar.”

  “She knows Aspen trusts him,” Skye said. “So she trusts him, too.”

  “But she’s just a baby,” the nurse said. “How could she possibly know all that?”

  Aspen looked down at the adorable bundle in her arms and felt a sudden urge to have a baby of her own someday. “She’s not just a baby. She’s a Myriad. And she’s very special.”

  Tora turned to the nurse. “Make sure you tell everyone not to touch this baby. Her father’s returning from the surface tomorrow. Aspen and Skye are in charge of her care until I finish with the other deliveries.”

  Skye tenderly tucked a loose corner of the blanket under Hope’s tiny chin. “When Hope and her mom were saying good-bye, her mom told me Hope’s dad died last night, but no one here knows that yet. Hope and her brother, Jacob, they’re orphans now. Her mom showed me a picture of Jacob with a family who had another son his age. The other boy had a scar under his eye.”

  “Oh my God. That’s Dillan.” Tora covered her mouth with both hands. “He’s Jacob’s best friend.”

  “Hope’s mom said she wants Jacob to be with Dillan and his parents.”

  “They’re Jacob’s godparents,” Tora said. “Hope and Jacob’s father…he’s dead?” She stared at Skye. “Are you sure?”

  Skye nodded. “The SEA found him and killed him last night.”

  Tora turned to Aspen. “Caring for a baby is a full-time job. How will we find time for your training?”

  “I’ll take care of her,” Skye volunteered. “She wants to be with me the most. I can feel it.”

  Tora frowned. “A brand new baby is more work than you could ever imagine. Two adult parents struggle to meet all the demands of a newborn. I could never ask you to do that, Skye. You’re only thirteen.”

  “You don’t have to ask me. I want to do it.”

  Tora hesitated.

  “I’ll take really good care of her. I promise,” Skye pleaded.

  “You’re hired.” Aspen kissed the baby on the forehead before placing her in Skye’s capable arms.

  “Hold on,” Tora cautioned. “We can’t just hand over a newborn baby to a thirteen-year-old girl. In case you’ve forgotten, this baby also happens to be one of only three Myriads in existence right now.”

  Aspen locked eyes with Skye. “There’s no one I’d trust more with Hope. They’re supposed to be together.” She turned to Tora. “Trust me on this.”

  The lion doctor shook her head, unconvinced.

  “Is there a room in chamber one big enough for me, Hope, and Oscar? Maybe we can all stay together while the two of you train.” Skye looked down at the baby. “I think that would make her feel safe.”

  Aspen raised a hopeful eyebrow in Tora’s direction. “Oscar loves babies,” she added to
sweeten the deal. “Hope will have him wrapped around her chubby little finger in no time.”

  “Fine.” Tora sighed. “There’s an adjoining room in chamber one with ample space for the three of you. I’ll make arrangements to have everything the baby needs brought over.”

  Skye smiled as the baby reached up to touch her face. “Hear that, Hope? We can stay together.”

  Tora watched the two of them with a smile of her own. “I know you and Oscar will take good care of her,” she said, setting a hand on Skye’s shoulder. “I’ll have someone drive you back to—”

  “I’ll drive them.” Aspen didn’t trust anyone else. She wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  Apparently sensing her conviction on the matter, Tora accepted the terms without protest. “Hurry back,” she said, checking her watch. “There are still six other pending arrivals waiting to be blessed.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aspen led Skye into the hospital corridor. They were retracing their steps to the medical supply closet when Skye halted and looked ahead. “What’s up?” she asked, following Skye’s gaze.

  “I feel Jacob nearby.”

  “Hope’s brother?”

  Skye nodded.

  At that very moment, Jacob came skipping around the corner and stopped short. His eyes grew wide when he saw the baby in Skye’s arms.

  Aspen’s heart broke for the boy. She didn’t think it was her place to tell him about his mother, about both of his parents. But how could she possibly leave Jacob behind without telling him and ride off into the sunset with his newborn baby sister?

  He stepped forward and peered down at the blanketed bundle in Skye’s arms.