by Jaime Rush
“Nothing for me.” She sank down onto the modular chair. Tea from a botanist with a predilection for fungi…no frickin’ thank you. “You were—”
“Tut-tut.” He lifted a finger to quiet her. “Must never talk while making tea. The vibrations permeate the tea and ruin the taste.”
He walked into a gourmet kitchen just beyond and went through a meticulous process of getting out an exotic teapot and preparing tea. She turned to the two men, who were still standing and watching her. There was a slight resemblance between them, at least in eye and hair color and the sensuous shapes of their mouths. Both men had brown hair, though Magnus’s was rich with curls and Lachlan’s was merely wavy. Neither looked a thing like the man in the kitchen.
Richard returned, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “I brought you a cup in case the aroma changes your mind.” He sat down and gingerly dropped two pink sugar cubes into his tiny teacup. “How did you find me?”
Amy stuffed her annoyance that he had stopped her from asking questions but then had launched into his own. Shades of those first few encounters with Petra and Eric. That didn’t mean she had to answer him, though. “Darkwell is looking for you, too.”
He stopped stirring. “You’re here on his behalf?”
Amy had to stifle a horrified laugh. “God, no. You were in the program, too, weren’t you? You took the Booster.”
“The Booster.” He shook his head. “Terrible name for it. No romance, no resonance. Darkwell’s name. Yes, I took it. How did you know?” He especially drew out his yeses.
“Because I can see your glow, your aura.” She turned to the two men. “Your sons?”
He smiled with pride. “Lachlan and Magnus.”
That was a good sign, that he was introducing them, wasn’t it? “You passed it on to them.”
“Passed…it?”
“The Booster.”
His expression darkened for a second. “Yes. Tell me about this glow you see.”
“They usually indicate moods, but Offspring—that’s what the children of the people in BLUE EYES are called—have a mixed glow, like static on a television.”
He took a sip of tea and set down the cup. “I see. Well, I don’t see the glow, but I see what you mean. Your father had the same ability. And many more.”
Her throat tightened at the mention of him. “Like what? I know he could remote-view.”
“The best I’ve ever seen. He could read documents, hear everything.” He raised a brow at her. “Can you do that?”
“No. Could he channel the dead?”
“Yes.” He’d drawn out the word again. He took another sip, his pinky extended. “And you?”
She nodded.
He set his cup down and sat back in his chair. “How did you find me?” His expression remained merely curious, but she saw a spark of fear in his eyes.
“One of us can locate.”
His face got even paler than it already was. “The copper didn’t keep him out.”
“Copper?”
“Copper has protective qualities, especially when it’s charged in energy vortexes. It keeps out psychic eyes. It has been protecting us for many years. Until now. I felt one of you here.” He looked at his sons. “I told you someday our protection might not be enough.”
Lachlan hoisted his gun in an automatic gesture. “We’ll be ready.”
Richard’s face was like a mask, stiff and calm. “We don’t know what they have.”
“We do.” Amy planted her hands on her knees. “Darkwell has two Offspring working for him, trying to hunt us down. But I’m not telling you any more until I have what I came here for. We inherited our parents’ boosted psychic ability. And some of us have inherited the mental instability, too. My boyfriend is…he’s breaking down. Darkwell captured him and put more of that stuff into him. I’m afraid Lucas is going to die if I don’t get him help.” Dammit. Her voice had broken. “You said something about an antidote.”
“He injected Lucas with more of the Booster? But…how? It was destroyed. I made sure of that.” He stood. “Come with me, daughter of Henry Shane.”
She swallowed hard, wishing now she’d taken some of that liquid. She accompanied him out a glass door that went into the courtyard behind the house. His sons followed.
“I knew Darkwell two years, four months, and ten days before BLUE EYES started. He was fascinated by psychic abilities. He wanted to use them to help our country, but his vision grew out of hand. I admit to being narrowly focused, but he far surpassed me.”
The house was a large square that encircled the back courtyard, which was covered like a greenhouse. It was warm and humid, steaming the Plexiglas panels that made the roof. Huge koi swam in the dark pond, ducking from sight as the four of them came near. Tiny birds flitted from branch to branch, chirping in alarm.
“I heard a scream,” she said.
“Peacocks. Years ago this was an animal sanctuary. It’s mating season.”
More of those odd-shaped growths filled this area. He paused, tilting his head and gazing at one particular grouping. Amy wanted to push him for more answers, but she intuitively sensed pushing would get her nowhere.
So she would engage him, gain his trust, whatever it took, because she wasn’t leaving until she got the antidote. And answers. “I understand you’re a biologist and mycologist. And that you’re very talented.”
His smile deepened momentarily and then faded. “Yes, I was.”
“Was?”
His focus, though, was on some small, pink balls growing on a fern. “Did you ever see such beauty?” He waved his hand over the centerpiece island. “Such variety? These are myxomycetes. Slime molds, my favorite type of fungus. I have always been fascinated by the odd, especially when it comes to nature. Especially that of the psychic nature.” He bent down and bounced his finger gently on top of some spongy red growths that reminded her of something from a Dr. Seuss book. “But these I could see, touch. Others could see and touch them, too, though most people were repulsed.”
He picked up a rotted branch and held it up to her. “This one is named after me.” The wood was covered by something that looked like a lacy red sea fern. “People walk past these every day and don’t even notice them. But these are life-forms, as lovely as any flower. Just because we classify them as fungus does not make them less valuable.”
His voice became impassioned on those last words, and his gaze was on the specimen in his hand. He gently set it down, giving it a look of fatherly love.
What did this have to do with—? “Was the Booster one of these?”
He gave her an odd smile. “You think I’m some mad scientist who sampled one of my specimens?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I did, but by accident.”
“How could that have happened?”
“It moved onto my plate.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Moved?” She looked at the specimens with trepidation now. “These things can move?”
“Some can. Afterward, my abilities increased tenfold. Darkwell wanted to know what had made the difference. He wanted a sample, and to my everlasting regret, I brought one in. I suffered no side effects, for a while, anyway. It took time for them to manifest. Darkwell thought it was safe, and I…I’m afraid I didn’t object enough. Before I knew it, he was giving the subjects the so-called Booster, though they didn’t know exactly what it was. We were getting amazing results.”
She followed him down the path, wondering if one of these specimens had been in the Booster. Some were amazing and so odd she would have definitely stopped to check them out. They were in such an array of colors and shapes, some stalks, others round balls or clusters, white and blue and yellow and red, and for a moment she could understand his being smitten by them.
He walked to a door in the far right corner of the house. She followed him into what appeared to be a lab, with glass cages filled with mice, refrigerators with containers of substances, and beautifully framed pictures of more fungi. These looked more
like gelatinous blobs in fluorescent blue, purple, and bright yellow.
He walked over to an aquarium and petted a black mouse that was reaching toward the top of the tank. “Astrid 4222 is doing well so far.”
“Astrid 4222?”
“I name them all after my late wife.” When Amy gave him a questioning look, he said, “She adored the mice. She made their food from scratch and apologized for what we were doing to them. I don’t like to hurt any creature. If I could do this without them, I would. I’ve been working on the antidote for many years, using mice as subjects like Darkwell once used people. I feel sorry for the mice. I felt sorry for the people. He never did. I gave Astrid 4222 the latest version just before you arrived. I’ll have to see how she fares through the night.”
“Lucas and I, we sent off for a test to make sure we weren’t related. When it came back, there was a note about our DNA having an extra marker. This stuff changed our DNA.”
The mouse trotted to its wheel and furiously ran.
Richard’s gaze was on the mouse. “We have twelve strands of DNA, but ten of those are considered junk DNA or shadow DNA by scientists. The stuff, as you put it, activates some of those other DNA strands. But, unfortunately, it overactivates them for us who have psychic abilities. Thus, the exaggeration of our powers, and also the mental deterioration. You said your boyfriend is breaking down. What are his symptoms?”
“Storms of precognitive images so painful he passes out. We know what happened to Jack Stoker, how he killed people. Lucas is afraid he’s on his way to doing that…to us.”
Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Jack Stoker. That was when we couldn’t deny what was happening. I felt the side effects, too. And when I saw the subjects dying, I went into hiding. I didn’t want to end up like them.”
“But how could you stop it? You would eventually end up like them anyway.”
He looked at her, his gaze so hard it gave her a chill. “Some of those deaths were a result of the insanity. Those Jack Stoker killed, Camilla Aruda, who accidentally set herself on fire. But the rest…they weren’t accidents. That was Darkwell covering his tracks. Those people were murdered.”
CHAPTER 35
Later that afternoon, Nicholas and Olivia reached Arcadia, the small town between the Shenandoah Mountains and the Blue Ridge Mountains. She loved the rural countryside, which was flanked by mountains on either side.
Nicholas sat in studied silence as he looked for landmarks. “I remember that farm with all the painted horses.”
He turned onto a dirt road and left a trail of dust behind them as they drove for about a mile. He pulled into a small alcove and turned off the car.
“So how does this work?” She nodded into the forest. “You just think about the item and go right to it?”
“Usually. It’s not as precise this time because I’m trying to zone in on a memory of something that’s no longer there.” He started to walk away. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“Where are you going?”
“When I go into find mode, my eyes look…different. It freaked out the first girl I ever had a crush on. She thought I was possessed by the devil.”
“How long ago was this?”
“I was twelve.”
“Hm, so the last and only time you let someone see you was over ten years ago. And it still bothers you that much? That is serious.”
He narrowed his eyes, obviously realizing she was mirroring the conversation they’d had about Liam and her feelings for him. “What shattered my young, tender self then would only bother me now, but the echo of that humiliation is still there.”
She smiled at the thought of him as that young, tender boy. “You were trying to find something she’d lost?”
“A sweater. I loved being her hero when I found her missing ring.” He stared off into the woods. “There’s something compelling about finding something that’s lost. I see now that it goes back to thinking I could find my father, because my mom always said we lost him. But it didn’t end there. Finding something that’s lost makes me feel complete. It’s hard to explain.”
She tilted her head. “And do you, Nicholas? Do you feel complete?”
He considered it for a moment, finally looking at her. “No.”
Her heart opened for him. She could so clearly see him looking for his father, and still looking, always looking.
Probably sensing the gravity of her thoughts, he said, “Be right back.”
She grabbed his arm. “Oh, no you don’t. I want to see you. And it’s only fair. You’ve watched me.”
He hesitated, then bowed his head in defeat. “Touché.”
He sat down and leaned back against a tree trunk. “It’s weird, but I can’t close my eyes. They have to be open to see.” He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think I can do this with you watching.”
She was crouching next to him. “Yes, you can. I’ll back up a bit.” She sat down a few feet away.
He released a sigh, and his body relaxed. His eyes went completely black, and she did have to admit it looked a bit like an evil movie she’d seen once. It was more intriguing than scary, though. She could see black swirls in his enlarged pupils. Tremors moved across his body. A minute later, his eyes shrank back to normal, and he took a quick breath.
“You don’t look as odd as you think. Or scary.”
“I just didn’t want to freak you out.”
“Oh, I’m long past that.” She gave him a wry grin. “Did you find it?”
He got to his feet. “I found where it was. Let’s go.”
He had a look of intense concentration, and she held her comments so as not to distract him as they walked into the woods. He wore a backpack, and she carried a bag with some food and supplies. He’d warned her they’d be roughing it, at least in her terms. Sleeping outside with bugs and animals and the like wouldn’t be as bad as the last few days, though.
“Wait up,” she said breathlessly, as his pace picked up.
They’d been walking for twenty minutes now. The silence, apart from their footsteps, was nice. The late-afternoon sun slanted down between the trees in streams of light. Dust motes danced in those streams like fairies, and the sun felt good whenever she walked through one.
After another twenty minutes, he came to a sudden stop. He dropped his backpack and started turning in a circle. She remained several feet away. His eyes went dark, his expression tense.
A moment later they returned to normal. “It was here, the eye, the piece of aircraft.” He took a deep breath. “Being at the site brings it all back.” He walked several yards away and dropped to his knees, pushing at the layer of leaves on the ground.
She watched over his shoulder. “Did this search have anything to do with my father?”
“I don’t know. I’d never heard of him at that time. I only dealt with Pope, but seeing him at the estate makes me wonder if they were working together all along. I’m baffled as to why they’re acting as though they weren’t. Pope didn’t indicate we knew each other, not a hello or anything. In fact, I could have sworn he gave me this look, almost hypnotizing, that clearly told me not to acknowledge him.” He went back to digging. “I’m sure they did a search of the entire area, but I want to look anyway. Maybe we’ll find something.”
They spent the next two hours digging around in the leaves with a trowel and hand rake and searching in the crevices of trees. As the sun began to cast long shadows across the ground, she sat down and saw he’d given up, too.
“If this thing is so important, why can’t you find where the piece is now?”
He dropped to the ground next to a tree. “I tried it. I got nothing, as if it didn’t exist. But it wouldn’t hurt to try again.”
He went into that unknown place again. He had thick, nicely arched eyebrows, and his mouth had a bit of a pout. Maybe that was what made him such a great kisser.
His eyes returned to normal. “I found it.” He scrambled over to the backpack and pulled out a
map, unfolding and leaning over it. “I’m seeing a spot south of here, a white building in the woods. No signs.”
It still amazed her that he could see anything. She stifled her scream as a black beetle ambled across her hand. “Being captured or bugs? Bugs are good. Nice bugs.”
He smiled. “That’s my girl.” His smile faltered. “Not my girl…”
She cat-walked over to him on her hands and knees. “Why not, Nicholas? Why not your girl? You do like me, don’t you?” She gave him a teasing smile, but she wasn’t going to back down this time.
He didn’t smile back. “If you get too close to me, I’ll hurt you.”
“Hurt me how?”
He released a breath. “I’m going to die.”
Those words thudded like stones in her chest. The word “Why?” came out as a squeak. “Because of my father?”
“It’s fate. I’ve had the same nightmare since I was a kid. I die in a fire, then I see my funeral, my mother and sister crying.”
Of all the crazy things she’d seen, this was one she couldn’t accept. “How do you know for sure?”
“My father had the same kind of nightmares about being shot. His came true. So will mine. You’re in the dream, Livvie, one of the mourners at my funeral. You were sobbing, and God, I could hear your heartbreak. I don’t want you to hurt like that.”
Fire. Like Jerryl died. She shivered, but the heaviness settled into her bones. She remembered his reaction when he saw the candles on his birthday cake. “That’s why you only got involved with women who didn’t want anything permanent?”
He nodded. “I saw how your first boyfriend’s death still hurt. I tried so damned hard not to get involved with you.” He gave her a sad smile. “I’m still trying. When my father died, my mother was devastated. She never married again, never even dated. Every day she aches from the loss of her one true love. I don’t want to do that to someone. I keep my distance, even with her and my sister.