by Dima Zales
A wave of intense guilt washes over me. My Guiding cost the sheriff and his deputies their lives, which wasn’t my intent. I was only trying to reverse George’s compulsion. As if sensing what I’m feeling, Mira places her other hand on top of my palm, as though to warm me up.
“None of this is your fault,” Kate says, shrewdly picking up on my tension. “It’s all on George.”
“No,” Rose interjects. “We bear some of the responsibility.”
“Sorry to interrupt.” A tall man in a white coat enters. He stops, Kate standing between him and my bed. Though she isn’t wearing her sword, her body language speaks clearly, and the guy instantly grows roots.
“ID,” she orders.
The guy points at his pocket and then to his face. Kate does her best imitation of a TSA agent, first staring at his badge, then at his face.
Finally, she says, “Okay, speak.”
“Umm, I was going to introduce myself. I’m Doctor Churin,” he says.
“Hi Doc, I’m Darren.” I try to sound friendly. It’s always been my policy to keep doctors happy with me, especially while I’m in their hospital. “You can tell me about my condition in front of my friends and family.”
He looks at the chart, then around the room. Clearing his throat, he says, “You have a mild concussion, and your x-rays show a cracked rib.”
Kate whistles, Mira narrows her eyes, and Rose worriedly exhales.
“You should be fine,” the doctor says, half to me and half to the women. “We’ll just need to make sure to provide you with proper pain management so you can breathe, cough, and laugh normally. The painkillers will also help your right ankle. It’s swollen and might be painful to step on. Now tell me, how do you feel?”
I give the doctor a big list of complaints, which he writes into my chart.
“I’ll check back in an hour.” He returns his pen into his breast pocket. “Meanwhile, I’ll send in our best nurse to give you something for the pain.”
“Wait, doctor,” Mira says. “Can he sleep? I heard you can’t sleep with a concussion.”
“Since he can carry on a conversation, I wouldn’t worry. If you’re extra conservative, you can rouse him every few hours to make sure his condition isn’t deteriorating. We do that with children.”
“I’ll do that then,” Mira mumbles, more to herself than to the doc.
Rose looks at her with unabashed curiosity.
The doctor leaves. He was so helpful that I wonder whether Thomas Guided him.
Now that I know my body will recover, I allow myself to worry about my Inert state. What if Eugene was right? What if I never recover my abilities? Imagining myself without my abilities is like imagining being blind.
The nurse comes in next, distracting me from my blues. Before she’s allowed to do anything, Kate gives her the same ID treatment she gave the doctor. Thankfully, she clears her, and the nurse administers my feel-good juice.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” Kate says when the nurse leaves the room. “But don’t worry. Eleanor is just outside this door.”
“Are you guys protecting me?” I ask.
“You and her people.” Kate waves at Rose. “The Elders want you and the Enlightened safe.”
Warmth and contentment spreads through me, though I’m not sure whether it’s brought on by the knowledge that Kate’s team is protecting me, or by the drug the nurse gave me. Whatever it is, it spreads nicely through my body and makes it very easy to breathe.
“They’re a little overbearing,” Rose says after Kate leaves the room. “But we’re putting up with it, for the sake of peace.”
“Speaking of overbearing,” I say, feeling giddy at the joke I’m about to make. “How is Paul?”
She chuckles. “He’s got some bumps and bruises, but he’ll be okay. He’s grateful to you, even if you won’t hear him admit it. When that woman told him about Caleb trying to kill you, he was livid.”
She stops talking because there’s some kind of a scuffle coming from the hall.
A few seconds later, Eleanor walks in. Her hands are on her hips, and she has Eugene’s head between her body and her right elbow. On her left, she has Bert’s head in the same position.
“Do you know these two?” she booms.
“Yes, please let them go,” I say at the same time as Mira snaps, “Let my brother go, you bitch.”
Eleanor complies, giving Mira a dirty look.
“Thanks, Eleanor,” I say. “Please wait outside.”
To my shock, the big woman nods and exits. It might be the drugs, but I thought I saw a hint of respect in the gesture.
“Darren, how are you?” Eugene exclaims.
“What happened?” Bert’s voice is an octave higher than Eugene’s.
“Hi, Eugene,” Rose says with a sly smile.
“Do I know you?” Eugene asks, frowning at her.
“No.” Rose’s smile widens. “But I saw you in Darren’s memories. You know, Julia is in the hospital . . .”
And with that, she exits the room, leaving Eugene with a flabbergasted expression on his face.
Not waiting for my friend to recover, I proceed to tell them what happened, including the stuff Eugene already witnessed, even though it’s obvious they heard some of the story already.
“So you gave up your Depth, your powers, to save me?” Mira’s expression is hard to pinpoint. Maybe it’s shock, or maybe it’s something else. Something like gratitude.
I feel warm again, and this time, I know it’s not from the painkillers. Mira’s reaction almost makes the loss worth it.
“Cheer up, dude,” Bert says. “I can’t do what you do, and I’m okay.”
“But you’re like a person born without hearing.” I know I sound gloomy, but I can’t help myself. “Of course you don’t miss something you never had.”
“I read that people who lose their sight or hearing eventually adjust,” Eugene says. “With time, they become just as happy as they were before the tragedy.”
“Zhenya, what did I tell you about your ability to make people feel better?” Mira’s voice is clipped.
Bert’s phone makes an R2-D2 sound, which I recognize as his text message ringtone.
He looks at the phone and says, “Sorry, it’s Hillary. She’s still not sure what to do.”
“How is she? How are my moms?” I ask, belatedly remembering that I had Hillary take them to safety.
“They’re all fine,” Bert says. “But Hillary is unsure if she should tell Sara about your situation.”
“She’s got those smart genes,” I say. “Tell her to bring them here, leisurely, under any pretext other than ‘Darren is hurt.’ I’m sure she can make something up. Once they get here, I’ll handle them. If Sara learns about my fractured rib and other mishaps the wrong way, she’ll end up in this hospital with a panic attack.”
“Got it,” Bert says, and his fingers dance on the phone’s keypad.
I yawn. All this talking is very energy-consuming.
Mira notes my yawn with a frown. She then glances at Bert and Eugene and asks, “Did you two eat anything? Did you sleep?” Sniffing the air, she adds, “For that matter, did either of you shower in the last couple of weeks?”
Bert looks at Eugene as if saying, She’s your sister, dude.
“We’ll go eat now,” Eugene says. He clearly knows how to handle Mira. “Thanks for the reminder, sis.”
After they exit, Mira gets up, walks over to the door, and demonstratively closes it. She then takes a chair and props it up, blocking the door. After that, she turns off the bright hospital lights, sits on the bed, and leans in to kiss me.
I return the kiss, trying my best not to say something unmanly, like ‘ouch,’ as I do. I’m enjoying the kiss, but my ribs are less enthusiastic.
She pulls away and says softly, “Why don’t you nap? The doctor said it was okay.”
“Let me try,” I say, unable to stifle another yawn. “It might not work. I set a record when it comes
to sleeping today.”
She says nothing and takes my hand in her palm again.
I close my eyes to test things out. The warmth of her touch mixes with the effect of the painkiller, and I drift off.
As I sleep, I have a recurring dream.
Someone wakes me up, asking if I’m okay, and afterwards, someone sings me a Russian lullaby.
Chapter 29
“If you try eating something, I’ll let you get up,” Mira tells me.
I know Mira well enough to recognize an ultimatum when I hear one, so I don’t bother arguing.
Besides, she’s right. I’ve been feeling pretty weak since I’ve woken up, and especially after I tried phasing into the Quiet and failed—again.
My stomach chooses that very moment to growl, and Mira gives me her signature ‘I told you so’ look.
I examine the hospital food she’s brought me, wrinkle my nose, and say, “I’ll try these pseudo-mashed potatoes that I suspect are made from powder.”
“Good,” she says. “The Jell-O is also pretty decent. I had some myself. Even a hospital can’t fuck up Jell-O.”
As I eat, Mira gives me an update on what happened while I was sleeping. The news sites are already covering what they think happened at the Temple. As she details the elaborate cover-up the Elders—or more likely, some Ambassador—cooked up, I’m glad Bert isn’t here. Hearing about a real-life cover-up would only encourage his tendency to make up conspiracy theories.
According to the media, some ex-mercenary turned drug lord started a cult in northern Florida. His followers shaved their heads and wore robes like Buddhist monks, and they trained in martial arts as part of their crazy religion. During an inter-departmental police mission to rescue a missing child, the officers came across the cult and their giant mansion/temple. Things escalated from there, turning into an ugly confrontation.
“It’s scary,” Mira says once I’ve finished my food. “If the Elders can make regular people believe such a load of bullshit, it makes you wonder what other world events they twisted.”
“You sound like Bert.” I push the tray away from my face. “Help me get this crap off me.”
“No.” Mira glares at me. “Let me get the nurse. Stop trying to be a fucking hero.”
The nurse comes over so fast I’m convinced someone Guided the medical staff to be at our beck and call.
The nurse gives me more painkillers, changes the bandages on my head, takes out the IV, and assures Mira I’ll be fine without the oxygen. Both women help me get to my feet.
“Crap, my ankle really hurts,” I say to the nurse when my foot touches the ground.
“I’ll bring you a chair,” she says. “This way your girlfriend can—”
“No wheelchair,” I say, horrified by the idea. “I’ll just walk slowly.”
I take a couple of tentative steps. It hurts, but it’s bearable—barely. The nurse leaves, and I limp out into the hallway, refusing Mira’s assistance.
Kate is standing guard by the door outside. “You’re walking.” Her smile appears genuine. “That’s a very good sign.”
“How’s John?” I ask.
Her smile falters. “Not as good as you, but he’ll pull through. The surgery went without a hitch. Thanks.”
“Good.” I remember Caleb’s fingers digging into John’s throat and mentally shudder. Shaking off that image, I tell Kate, “We’re going to walk around. Do you know which room my grandfather, Paul, is in?”
Kate nods. “Walk down this hall until you see Eleanor.”
Mira and I slowly make our way to the room, and after saying hello to Eleanor, we enter. Turns out that Paul is sharing a room with Edward. Rose and Marsha are here as well. Mira looks at the setup curiously. I already warned her that my grandparents each have significant others, but it must still seem strange to her.
“Darren,” Rose says, smiling. “Glad to see you up and about.”
“Just wanted to check on Paul,” I say. “Rose, Marsha, Edward, Paul, have you met Mira?”
Paul looks me over, his typical ‘just ate a lemon’ expression warmer than usual.
“Rose told me what you did for me,” he says gruffly. “And I’ll never forget what that Pusher, Richard, said when he stopped beating me up. Thanks for that.”
I recall the little joke message I Guided Richard to deliver to Paul and chuckle. Clearly Paul didn’t take offense.
Turning my attention to Edward, I ask, “How are you?”
“I’m just here to keep Paul company,” my grandmother’s husband says. “I’m not hurt enough to need a hospital.”
“Thanks for saving my husband,” Marsha says.
“And mine,” Rose adds.
I incline my head in acknowledgement of their thanks, and say in a not-so-subtle-warning, “I hope this puts an end to any unfortunate visits from Caleb or the monks.”
Paul nods. “Let’s forget the past.” He sounds as if he’s talking about a manufacturing defect his company was responsible for.
“Sure. But first, do you ladies or gentlemen have anything to say to Mira?” I ask, unable to help myself.
Mira gives my arm a painful squeeze.
“We’re all sorry about what happened, Mira,” Rose says. “Truly, we are.” She gives Paul a look.
“You were asleep when we left you in the guestroom,” Marsha echoes. “For what it’s worth, we thought it was your friends who were shooting everyone, so we didn’t think we were leaving you in any danger.”
“This whole thing got out of control,” Edward adds. “Caleb shouldn’t have taken anyone. His orders were to grab Darren as he was leaving the funeral, that’s all. Still, even though we didn’t order your abduction, Mira, we shouldn’t have gone along with it. We should’ve ordered him to return you to Darren.”
Paul doesn’t say anything, so I sigh and say, “Okay, I’ll go now.”
“Darren, wait,” Paul says, and I stop. “Come visit us once we’ve rebuilt the Temple and settled down,” he says in a low voice. “Rose and I are your family, and I know she wants you to be part of her life and . . . so do I.”
I figure this is as close to an apology as I’m going to get from Paul, so I say, “Sure, Grandpa.”
“You too, Mira,” Paul adds. “Please come with him.”
Mira nods and pulls me out of the room, probably sensing that I’m on the verge of saying something snarky that might ruin the goodwill the Enlightened are trying to create.
We walk silently toward the elevator, with me trying to move without aggravating my ankle and Mira looking thoughtful.
“You are going to stay in touch with them, right?” Mira says as we stop in front of the elevator.
“Are you really asking me to be nice to them?” I press the elevator button and turn to look at her. “You, the person they kidnapped?”
“They’re your only connection to your dead father.” The elevator doors open, and she walks in. “I’m not suggesting you forgive them, or that what they did was right. My point is: what harm could it do to stay in touch with them? See where it leads?”
I give her an amused look. “You know, I sometimes forget you’re actually younger than me.”
I limp into the elevator and press the button for the first floor.
I expect Mira to say something like, ‘In terms of maturity, I’m double your age,’ but she just steps up to me, rises on her tiptoes, and kisses me.
I kiss her back. Having her close almost makes me forget about the missing Quiet in my life—a lack that might be everlasting.
We’re still kissing when the elevator doors open. Thomas and Liz are standing there, observing us with varying degrees of fascination.
Being caught kissing by my shrink makes me feel surprisingly like a naughty schoolboy. I steal a glance at Mira, who doesn’t seem fazed at all. Her manner is so casual, it’s as if she was caught wiping dust off her shirt.
Thomas gives me a sly smile, while my shrink studies Mira.
“Liz, you’r
e here, at the hospital?” I ask, realizing the silence lingered too long.
“Liz? What are you talking about? She’s not here,” Mira teases. “Imagine how ironic it would be if your hallucination took on the shape of your shrink.”
Liz smiles and says, “I came as soon as I heard.” She protectively loops her arm through Thomas’s elbow. “Thanks for rescuing him.”
“No problem.” I don’t know what else to say, so I just exit the elevator, doing my best not to make my ankle worse. I follow the hallway sign to the cafeteria, and the others follow.
“We were actually going up to see you,” Thomas says, speeding up to walk beside me. “I just heard from Hillary. She and your mothers are about to arrive.”
“Oh.” I give Mira a worried look. “How bad do I look?”
“You’re walking, you’re talking.” Mira runs her fingers through her hair and grabs the scrunchy holding it in place. “Sara shouldn’t freak out too much.” In an elegant gesture, Mira tightens her hair into a much neater ponytail. “What’s our story, by the way?”
“About that.” I look over at Thomas and Liz. “I was thinking of going for the big-bang approach.”
“How big of a bang?” Thomas asks, his eyes gleaming with hope. “The whole truth?”
“Yes, like that oath in the court room.” I feel a little lightheaded. “Liz, is this a good idea? I mean, is Lucy ready to hear the truth about Kyle?”
As I wait for her to answer, I lean on the sterile white wall to rest for a moment.
“She’s as ready as she’ll ever be.” Liz and everyone else stop walking, waiting for me to recover.
“Can you do your Xanax thing on both of them as I tell them all this stuff, including how I got hurt?” My moment of weakness passes, so I resume walking and my friends follow.
“I think I can do better.” Liz looks surprisingly excited. “If Mira would assist me, I think we can do something unprecedented in psychiatry. I can Split, pull her in, and she can monitor Lucy and Sara’s thoughts from the Mind Dimension. She’ll tell me what needs adjusting, and I’ll fine-tune their reactions in real time.”
I stop again. “I’m not sure that would work,” I say, remembering how I couldn’t pull Mira into the Quiet back at the Temple. I look at her. “Aren’t you Inert, Mira?”