“What I’m trying to teach you often takes years to master,” Dev reminded her. “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. Remember what Libby told you. She didn’t get it right away either.”
But there’s so little time. She might as well have said it aloud. They were both thinking it. She flicked a glance at the monitor. “That’s not helping any either.” The mere existence of the security measures only intensified her fears. What if the Betrayers found them? What if they attacked the clan? She gritted her teeth. At this rate she’d ‘what if’ herself to death.
Dev grimaced. “I know,” he said, as if he’d read her thoughts. He laid a hand on her shoulder. As always, his touch supercharged her system. “I like to think we bought some time yesterday, with our ruse. All they know is that we’re in a warehouse. They apparently don’t know which one. And Curtis is our early warning system. When we’re sleeping. Working. He’ll call us immediately if something’s up. You can’t worry about watching the monitor while you’re trying to focus. You know that. Take five, Gabriel. Go get your head together.”
He was right. She did need to pull it together. Flexing her fingers, she stretched, first her legs, then her back and arms. Painfully aware of his gaze and the effect he had on her, she moved into the depths of the warehouse, trying to silence her fears.
What was holding her back? Was it the circumstances, such as they were, or something more?
By telling him about the baby last night, she’d unburdened herself, strengthened her trust in herself and in him. He’d even shared a painful secret from his childhood. While she grieved for Dev, she felt honored he’d confided in her. She still feared he would try to take revenge, but he’d said it himself. He wouldn’t jeopardize the clan’s chances for success. She’d take him at his word. In her book, they’d built a solid foundation for mutual trust.
So far, so good. What they were doing was a mission to save the human race. In those terms, it was too big. Too scary. This fight was for her, and Libby’s baby.
And the man she loved.
Dev.
It really was as simple as that.
She took a moment to study him. He stood, scrutinizing the monitors. Even from this distance, she could sense his concentration, his sheer physicality.
She’d fairly melted last night when he’d massaged her feet. Cared for her, as he had at the motel. A soft moan escaped her, remembering. He hadn’t taken advantage of the situation. And he could’ve. More than any man ever had, he aroused her physically, mentally, emotionally.
Love and trust were each powerful energies unto themselves, she knew. Both would galvanize her as she focused on what she could control—learning how to channel the Vitality energy. She had to forget about the past and the future, and focus on the present moment.
That’s all they had. No matter how much she might want to believe otherwise.
After all, wasn’t her meditation—the practice she relied on daily for sanity—about staying in the much availed present? It was an important prerequisite to using her ability, to harness the energy of emotion; it was all tied together. By focusing on that common bond, she could do this.
At the sound of a bird chirping, she whirled around. A sparrow flitted from pipe to pipe in the ceiling. Charmed by this reminder of life outside these walls, she strode toward Dev with new resolve.
She had to learn this before they could move on. So she would learn it. By getting out of her own way.
She reached him. “I’m ready.”
Instead of the harsh fluorescents, they’d opted for a portable halogen shop light. It cast shadows in the cavernous interior, over the angles and planes of Dev’s face.
They joined hands. Closing her eyes, she focused on the warmth of his fingers, linked with hers. This was a journey. Not a destination. She breathed. In. Out. Minutes passed.
Nothing.
She allowed her frustration to ebb and flow, her mind to empty. Refocus. No resistance. She embraced Dev’s energy, potent, frenetic. Then embraced her ability. Visualized the energy flowing into her body. Pictured her breath, leaving her lungs. Out. In.
His energy. Hers. Melding. Calm. Strength. Love was a potent energy. For him. Herself.
No resistance.
Warmth pulsed at the base of her throat, faint. Then stronger.
Jolting, her eyes flew open. “It worked,” she cried, laughing out loud.
A dimple formed near the corner of his mouth. “It worked that time.”
We can do this. “All right,” she said excitedly. “From the top.”
For the next two hours, they practiced. Each time it came faster, lasted longer, burned more powerfully. Slowly she let go of the resistance that’d become second nature.
Releasing his hands, she immediately missed the connection. “I’m no expert. I’m not going to be either. At least I’m getting a handle on it.”
“You’re doing great,” Dev agreed. “Let’s take a break and come back to it.”
“We have a lot of work ahead of us with the experiments.” She tilted her head, studied him. “I need a good assistant, and it looks like you just got the job. Think you can handle it?”
CHAPTER 22
Meda was a slave driver.
And he thanked his gods for it.
For the sixth time in four hours, Dev wrote in an orange hardbound notebook, recording details as she instructed. Time, date, experiment number, materials used. Keyboarding wasn’t his strong suit, so he’d opted for handwriting the information.
Along the way, he’d picked up bits of lingo specific to the science: piezo electric patch, mechanical load, super capacitor.
Yesterday and most of today, they’d fallen into a pattern of sorts. They’d alternate, spending a few hours practicing the channeling of Vitality energy, then the next few, performing different Piezo experiments and tests.
Each time, Meda channeled faster and longer. For the Piezo tests, she’d review his notes, add some of her own, set up the next go round, each with painstaking care. The process was simple, really, as she’d deconstructed it. They were building a piezoelectric generator that converted mechanical energy into electrical energy, and storing it in a battery, called a capacitor.
To create the ‘anti-Vitality’ stone, she would channel the energy they harvested from his memory and emotion using her ability, ‘convert’ it, and this would be stored in the Vitality stone, or the ‘battery.’
Based on a combination of her father’s notes and her memory of the experiments, which proved to be incredibly detailed, Meda changed variables, tested, adjusted. He had a good knowledge of amps, currents, and power from his work as a contractor. And in the last twenty-four hours, he’d learned more about transducers, diodes, electrolytic capacitors, jumper wires, and breadboards than any Watcher or human had a right to.
The tedium and the details made him want to scream. And he knew they were absolutely necessary. As a carpenter, he did his share of planning, though he’d always been more of a doer. However, her knowledge, her smarts, her methodical nature impressed him.
As did her precise handwriting, which he found incredibly sexy. As well as every other detail about her. The more he discovered about her, the more he wanted to unveil. He hadn’t touched her except in the most casual of ways since the night he’d massaged her feet. They both needed to focus and concentrate, and he needed his sanity.
He feared he was losing on that front. Her scent, her voice, her energy intoxicated him, drove him mad with every passing moment. As she pored over results, he ached to brush the hair away from her face. To mold his hands over the peaks of her breasts beneath her T-shirt. To feel the sweet curve of her ass, framed in cut-off denim shorts, against his palms. To trace his finger over the silky line of her neck. To bite her bottom lip and watch her eyes go dark with desire
. For him.
They ate. They slept. Every few hours, he’d check in with Curtis and company. Several times each day, they moved the van Dev had driven to make it appear like any other warehouse, with its usual comings and goings for any Betrayers who might be watching. No Betrayer activity had been seen or reported by any of them, here or back at the network. Flares of human rioting continued to erupt.
His third day in the human realm morphed into the fourth. Dev glanced at the time and date in the bottom corner of the laptop. They had exactly three days, seven hours and fourteen minutes left to harvest his energy, test it out, and render Similitude.
Pen in hand, Meda wrote quick, neat letters in the notebook and started a new page. Chewing on the end of a pen, her brow furrowed. “That last series of tests didn’t perform the way I wanted,” she said to herself. “Let’s try something else.”
“I thought we were making some progress.”
“We are. I think we can do better.”
“How?”
“The amount of charge we’re able to produce is proportional to the applied force and independent of the piezoelectric element size and shape. The only way to increase the charge output is by positioning several elements mechanically, in series, and electrically, in parallel.”
My sexy scientist. “I’ll take your word for it.” He grinned. “Just tell me where to stand.”
“Sorry. I’m thinking out loud.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m impressed.” He wanted to pull her into his arms, yank the pins from her bun, and kiss her senseless. He’d settle for listening to her talk about science he didn’t understand all day long, as long as he could be near her. “That’s some education you got.”
“Yeah. With Dad, it was every day. I didn’t have a lot of formal schooling. Around him I guess I didn’t need it.”
“I wish I could’ve met him.”
“Yeah. Me too.” Their eyes met, held. “He would’ve been fascinated. By all of this. I think, I hope, what we’ve set up so far and tested, will work.” She beamed. “I can’t help being excited. If my dad were here . . .” she broke off. Her face flamed. “I’m sorry. I’m certainly not excited about the circumstances.”
“I understand. Hell, I’m excited. Meda, if this works, we’ll have something to fight with.”
She smiled, warming him. “Then let’s try to make sure it does.” She squeezed his hand, released it. Donning a pair of safety glasses, Meda used a soldering iron to expertly fuse wire onto several switch inputs. Slowly, she set it down and peered at him through the glasses. “I think we’re ready to move to the next step.”
“Using your ability to convert the energy, and the Vitality stone as the capacitor.”
“Yes. First, I want to try a practice memory, instead of . . .” She broke off, her expression pained.
“You can say it.” He forced a smile. He’d lived through it once, so to speak. He could do it again. Plus, if she knew he was nervous, it would only make her more nervous. “Me, dying. I’m the one who offered it up, remember?”
She nodded quickly. “I want to use the practice memory first because I don’t want to risk diluting the power of your memory, nor do I want to taint the stone. If we’re successful with the practice memory, we move on. I think yours is going to be more powerful, not just because of what it is. Because you’re a Watcher.” Her forehead wrinkled. “This is always the part where it went wrong for my father and me. There was never anything strong enough to bridge the connection.”
He admired her slender fingers manipulating the wires, intent on the task of attaching a Vitality stone in place of the capacitor. “If this works, is there a way for us to create other stones, from the ‘anti-Vitality’ stone?” He frowned. “You know how I feel about you doing this at all. I certainly don’t want to have to repeat the process.”
“We may not have to. I’ve got some ideas.”
“Have I told you lately you’re amazing?” he murmured.
“Let’s get it to work first,” she said, but a slight blush colored her cheeks, delighting him. “And after that, we try to create Similitude. By harnessing the dark energy impressions.” She blinked rapidly. “First things first.”
With his help she opened a package of electrodes and placed them near her pulse points; wrist, neck and temple. “These serve to tie everything together. Your memory, the stone, and my ability. We may actually not even need them. I’m using it as a fail safe.” She placed her hands in his. “Even after all this preparation, and testing, I’m not sure how it’s going to go.”
“And we’ll never know unless we try. We’ll follow the plan we’ve talked about. To the letter. Are you ready to do this?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Closing her eyes, she breathed, in, out. Meditating. The first part of their plan. Five minutes passed. Now it was his turn. Following suit, he lowered his resistance by degrees. Reduced his energy levels. Focused.
His Vitality stone glowed at the base of his neck.
He honed in on his Vista. Gripped her hands.
And felt Meda’s breathing merge with his own.
Flowers. Green. Trees. The sun, beating down. He stood on the edge of the highest point of Mount Verdant, beholding the valley below in one sweeping gaze. Beauty and color abounded. Wildlife teemed. A bird, its feathers a deep vermillion, sang, greeting the new day.
Her eyes flew open and she clasped his hands, hard.
The Vitality stone glowed, faintly. But it glowed.
It worked.
Despite his excitement, he refused to celebrate. Yet. A pleasant memory was one thing, his death quite another.
She was willing to put her life on the line, to create the very thing that could sacrifice, or save them. How can I live with myself if her ability kills her?
Her eyes glittered with satisfaction. “Our methodology is correct. And the Vitality stone is storing energy we channeled, which, of course we knew it could. We still don’t know if it can handle the dark energy, and on a grander scale. But we’re on the right track.”
“Meda, if something goes wrong, there has to be something I can do. To stop it. To help you.”
“Dev.” She moved closer to him, and the scent of her freshly washed skin wrapped around him. “We’ve already been through this. The truth is, I don’t know. It depends on how powerful the energy is.” Her expression resolute, she regarded him. “I understand the risks.”
“I know,” he said, his voice gruff.
She held his gaze a moment longer. “Next comes the real test.” Painstakingly, they switched out one Vitality stone for another, and again, joined hands.
Once more, they focused.
And he allowed the memory of that terrible day from three months ago, his last day as a Keeper, to flow free, an open wound.
He couldn’t move his legs.
Spring rain that smacked of winter misted his clothes, his face, his hair with steady, icy precision. Raw, ripe pain seared his chest, his arm. In the alley that stank of the city’s discards, he lay on his back, gravel biting into his flesh, as unforgiving as the Betrayer looming over him.
Touching the back of his head, he felt his blood. Felt his fingers grow sticky with it.
Confusion glazed the edges of his consciousness. Nothing made sense. Why hadn’t they come?
His resources waning, he summoned all manner of energy, inside, outside, through himself, and clung to a sliver of hope. Desperately he reached out to his brothers and sisters, to warn them.
This was one last thing he could do.
Footsteps sounded. Beside him? Behind him? Heels scuffed pavement, crunched gravel.
Dizzy and gray took turns clouding his vision, his perception.
From the corner of his eye, shapes shifted in and out of focus. Black. Boots.
“You won’t be needing this.”
No! Impossible! His brain cried out the words his lips refused to form.
He shouted, but the only sound in the alley were raindrops turned to drizzle as they struck metal, brick, concrete. Sapped of strength, helpless to fight back, he gurgled. Choked.
His head lolled to one side.
A child, all spindly legs and missing front teeth, hid, or tried to, between the rusted rail cars.
They found him. They always found him.
Run! He screamed at the boy.
At himself.
A man and a woman called to him in the distance.
A train steamed along the rails, muffling his screams. An inch, another inch, and he could reach it . . .
Sure, steady fingers worked the strap loose, slid the spoils from around his neck.
“It’s come to this, after centuries.” His breath, hot on his ear, reeked of triumph. “It’s only a matter of time.”
The boots turned, retreated, clicked into the night.
Tap, bump. Tap, bump.
Confusion and grief fused with pain and numbness, leaden and gray. He succumbed.
Shaking, gulping air, Dev clawed his way to the surface of consciousness. His eyes flew open. The desk cold against his back, he slumped to the floor.
Meda.
Pale and still, she lay beside him, her cheek on his chest. His heart knocking against his ribcage, he cradled her in his arms. And gulping, pressed a finger to the base of her throat.
Beneath his touch, her pulse beat.
Weak with relief, something between a moan and a growl escaped him. Gently, he propped her up, peeled the electrodes from her skin, smoothed the hair away from her face. “Meda.” He waited a moment. “Meda,” he said again, louder.
The Watcher (Crossing Realms Book 2) Page 16