by Lin Lustig
“Now you're an interesting one. Do I know you?”
He felt the lashing of Licia’s ennui push him down, like sinking under water. He pushed back against it. It wasn’t his. He knew the difference. Aubrey, however, didn’t react. But she did watch. He could see her mind whirr and connect.
“Whatever you’re doing to him and the others, it won't work,” Aubrey said.
The attendees around them began to sink like deflating pool toys. Some held their heads or leaned against walls, while others stared into the void, forgetting the sip of wine they’d been about to take.
Licia watched the bystanders, her eyes darting around, growing wider as she flickered back towards Aubrey. “What—”
“Adequate protection.” Aubrey waved her hand in disinterest. “But you are fascinating.”
Fuck. Aubrey was on Jammers. Licia must have realized it, too. The weight of emptiness released. John's control returned. He spun, intercepting Aubrey, forcing her back from Licia.
“Who's your friend, Jayden?” Aubrey asked, focused like a hunting dog.
“No one.” He spun back to Licia and bit out the words: “Get out of here.” Jazz began to play from the stage, the flow of servers increasing as dinner was brought out.
Aubrey charged forward, slipping from John’s reach. She knocked Licia’s cheap mask askew. He snagged Aubrey’s shoulders, dragging her back while Licia scrambled to get her mask back in place. They were drawing attention. He had to keep them safe—all of them, but fucking hell he was doing a shit job at this. He wasn’t meant to be in this kind of position. But as he saw Aubrey’s face glow with unfiltered delight, he had to do something. Anything.
“Leave her out of this and I'll go public.” John could feel his heart pounding from his fingers to his toes as anxiety rose like bile.
“What?” Aubrey and Licia said in unison.
It would happen sooner than later. With Azami outed, it wouldn’t be long before the connection to John was made. He had to be in control, not hide from it. Not when he'd already come out in favor of the Ferly. UHP had everything they needed on him to ruin his life—this way, maybe he'd save his image.
“Sign the divorce papers and the NDA and agree to leave this woman alone. You won't legally be able to tell anyone about our marriage or my involvement with WHRP. Do that, and I'll walk on that stage right now and tell them all what I am.”
“Don't be an idiot,” Licia snapped.
“Only if you also act as a liaison to our new patients.”
He could make this work. He could get inside and get to Tarrah. Aubrey, as far as he could tell, was completely relaxed in the situation. Her attention didn't falter. It had been like that the first time he saw her from across a charity event like this, him a server and her drawn into his magnetism like everyone else. Except he'd done a little reading up on the guests, and learned that Aubrey was a rich heiress, the perfect target. He'd started this that night as a desperate seventeen-year-old kid. Now it was time he owned that. Azami, Glen, even Licia looked to him to solve this, so he would.
“Lucky for you, acting is my specialty,” he nodded, keeping his gaze on her and not on Licia.
Aubrey held out her hand. “Pen.”
CHAPTER 49
Licia
Licia soaked John in uncertainty, disinterest, even panic, but it did nothing. He couldn't give Aubrey what she wanted, not again. Why was he always so weak with her? His jaw tightened as he intently watched each paper Audrey scrawled her name across. Then with a bent back and heavy steps, he followed her up on stage past a line of security. Licia tried to follow but was stopped by a man built like Emerson, but without his begrudgingly kind eyes.
She gave up influencing John. He was really going to do this, wasn't he?
These assholes had just outed Azami. Outed Tarrah. It didn't matter if Aubrey pursued her if everyone else was in danger, too. She was the one who was supposed to soak in the mud to keep the others clean. Her shoulders were meant for that kind of burden. They might look slight and narrow, but she could hold up the world if need be. Hundreds of lost teenagers had found their way because of her. She could have handled a few adults, damnit!
What the fuck was he thinking? She had to stop him, yet even as she thought it, her feet stayed rooted, her ears waiting for his voice to come on over the mic. Intuition tugged at her heart. Be still, it said. Wait. After years of trusting no one, she'd learned to trust herself, but for once she didn't want to. The music cut off. She shouldn't let him do this. A shuffle sounded from the stage. Didn't she want to save him? Then John's voice rang out over the audience.
“Good evening, my name is John Beechum, actor and activist. To be clear, I don't support how UHP or GANF are dealing with Abnormals—actually, I hate that word. I'm going to call us Ferly—wondrous and unexpected. Not to be confused with furries, though that's always fun, too. But I do mean us. Me.” A beat passed and Licia squeezed her eyes shut. “What I can do is not as important as who I am. I'm still your favorite wet dream, but now I can offer something a little extra. Come and have a taste if you like.”
The room fell too still and too quiet. The soft buzz of the live audio sounded like a spring tree laden with bees, but there wasn't going to be any fruit from this.
A server passed with a tray of champagne. Licia snagged a glass and took a quick swig.
That.
Fucking.
Idiot.
CHAPTER 50
Emerson
Emerson's leg bounced as he watched the clock over the door of the stark exam room. Each tick was like a hammer fall. This was taking way too long. Hadn’t Dr. Wallace reviewed the X-ray yet? They should have immediately gone over whatever results they found, not done another full fucking blood draw. Again. At this point he was sure this place had enough of his blood to fill a pool.
John was probably at the gala flirting and schmoozing his way to his wife. He wanted to get home and watch the live coverage, not that it would make a difference. John and Prisha were there without him, and all he could do was watch them on TV and pray he was exaggerating the dangers of John's plan. His wife sounded cruel, but not dumb. No, she'd manipulate John, drive him into a corner, and then he'd do something stupid. As always.
A knock came on the exam room door. Emerson sat rebar straight as a nurse in those loose blue pants and a shirt printed with Minnie Mouse stepped in.
“Sorry about the delay. Dr. Wallace is dealing with an emergency.”
Emerson stood. “No problem, but I'll have to reschedule.”
The nurse flicked her gaze at the door. “It's imperative you wait for Dr. Wallace to go over the X-ray with you. There are new medications he wants to discuss with you. If you'd just wait—”
“I've been waiting for over an hour. My condition can't be that serious.” Emerson reached for the door handle.
“I'm afraid you could be facing blocked arteries, but if you just wait—”
“It's in my file isn't it? Let me see.”
She eyed the computer in the corner. “I'll... print you a copy of the scan.”
If it got him out of here faster, then it was fine. “Mind if I use the restroom?”
“It's just down the hall to the right, should be clearly marked.” She gestured to Emerson's left. He nodded and left the room.
He passed the restroom and kept walking, doing a quick loop of the exam rooms and lab. Something was off. He didn't run into any other patients or medical staff. Completing his circuit, he returned to his original exam room and eyed the nurse. Her attention was absorbed into the computer screen as she steered the mouse around.
“Okay, let me grab those for you.”
She scurried out of the room but left her ID card inserted into the system reader. Normally, Emerson wouldn't think twice about leaving it alone or even reminding her of the security risk of being so careless, but today that security risk was a window he needed to see through. His senses were on high alert, making the stillness in the office that m
uch more noticeable as the hollow inside him yawned.
The rolling stool felt uneven, the wheels sticky, but he wedged up under the desk and flipped through his electronic file. The lab reports showed minimal variations from the last time he'd had blood drawn, which didn't surprise him. It also showed no difference in his cholesterol.
Wait, the date was wrong. The file showed his last labs from six months ago. He'd had them done at least once a month since transferring to Dr. Wallace. Why weren't they in here?
He backtracked to when he first moved to the city. The file had an asterisk next to the date with his first comprehensive labs.
FQ #20035 - regular draws. There was another note on the more recent results from six months ago.
Regular delivery required. Increase to 100ml. What the hell?
The door opened and Emerson jumped. The nurse's attention stayed on the papers in her hand, but when she caught him snooping, she paled.
“You're not supposed to access private records.”
“They're my records. What does this mean, FQ #20035?”
“If you'd just wait. Dr. Wallace will explain what the UHP labs—”
“UHP? I didn't sign anything allowing my blood to be—”
“Analyzed by the student program under UHP? Of course you did. We adhere to strict patient confidentiality laws.”
It was staring to sink in. UHP had his blood. They knew. Dr. Wallace knew. His stomach tightened. He might be sick. “What are they doing with it? How are they analyzing it?”
“I don't know, Mr. Caldwell if you—”
“Bullshit. This is... this is...” His mind jumped and jerked into realization. The Jammers were made from three source subjects. What if he... no. No, right? The room wobbled a little as he forgot to breathe. The new Jammers blocked incoming abilities and stripped an Abnormal of their specialization. His ability absorbed, stole... negated.
An absurd laugh bubbled free. He'd never felt so wretched before.
Part Four
CHAPTER 51
Tarrah
Alarms ripped her consciousness from the vision. The sound reverberated through her ears, rattling her brittle brain. Her head pounded with the screech, her temples threatening to crack. The room's lights were off, or maybe out, but a piercing flash of light pulsed from a ceiling console. The same kind of light joined in from outside her obscured internal window. Her outside window was obscured by snow.
Shadows darted across the blinds—people rushing by. Was the building on fire? She couldn't smell smoke. The machines still reported her vitals, and she still had her IV in. The sound wailed and she kept her fingers jammed into her ears. The sound was so jarring she kicked off her blanket and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, ready to find someone and beg them to make the noise stop. It had only been an hour since she was last awake, and less importantly, present. Then she remembered the last flashes of her vision. John calling his wife—the woman who experimented on people like their friend, Azami—Mrs. Benson. Doctor Benson.
Shit. She had to get out of here. It didn't matter what her role was in all of this, she wasn't going to oppose John and the others by letting Dr. Benson have her way. She ripped off the nodes and IV, reaching over to silence the machine as it rang out an alert. Not that anyone could hear it over the intermittent wail of the alarms.
The world spun as she tested her weight on her legs, staring at the door like it might come to her instead of the other way around. Come on body, work with me here. She leaned against the bed, letting her equilibrium reset. Two steps towards the door and her breathing labored. She reached the door handle and darkness encroached around the edges of her sight.
No, no, no. She couldn't pass out, not here. She had to get out of here. She stumbled back. If she could warn Emerson and the others it would give her life a glimmer of meaning. It would make up for being the cause of their problems. For enabling her monster of a doctor to continue her work. It was okay if she didn't live, she'd made a kind of peace with that. But she wouldn't harm others. She couldn't.
As she knocked into the rolling desk, her body turned curiously light. The fatigue disappeared, as did the ache in her muscles. Endorphins trickled down her spine in pleasurable tingles. Shit. Seriously?
The floor hit her. No wait, she'd fallen. Warmth pressed down until she was only vaguely aware of the cool tile against her side and cheek. She was a bit hungry, which was an odd thought to have while her vision swam out of focus.
Someone called her name. Well, she'd tried to do the right thing. At this rate, her only true escape would be death.
Bugger it all.
CHAPTER 52
John
John kept his composure, his mask in hand—no point trying to hide anymore. He strode off stage with the same swagger he’d entered with, pretending that he couldn't hear the spreading wildfire of whispers erupting across the masked crowd. Aubrey followed him out of the light and off the stage to where Henry stood nearby, arms crossed, and a glower stuck on his face.
This would have happened one way or another. He needed to control how the information broke and how it would be perceived as best he could. But knowing that this was the right move and making it were two horribly different things. The churning in his stomach only increased as he stood with Aubrey in the shadows. His palms felt slick and cold, and he wanted to sit down.
Licia had soaked him in emotions before, but he'd known they weren't his. That tiny bit of awareness kept him going, making his own choices, agreeing away his freedom. These emotions weren't like that. The panic and pain he felt were wholly his—and he deserved them.
Still, he could use this, spin it to make him appear more sympathetic, draw more fans. Even curiosities have an audience. Or he'd become a target. He didn’t want a repeat of his final show and more bruises like the one deepening on his shoulder.
“That wasn't exactly as I'd hoped, but it's acceptable.” Aubrey squared her thin shoulders and presented him the divorce papers rolled up like she was about to swat a fly. John opened them, double checking the signatures, then tucked them back into his costume. It was a small win, but one he hoped would have a big impact with Emerson. If he could prove that he was more than a self-obsessed sex addict, he might have a chance at redemption. Part of him knew that was foolish, though.
Aubrey licked her lips, though not suggestively. “We'll need to meet with our lawyers to divide our assets before we can schedule a hearing. I believe I'm entitled to some of the persona I helped you to build, Jayden.”
He cringed at his old name. The desire to shoulder past her, knocking her back and out of his life for good, was so tempting, but he wasn't done with her just because she signed his petition.
She seemed to read a response from his silence and said, “I have an opening on Tuesday. We can finish the paperwork and discuss your role with the patients. You can see for yourself what we're doing. Hell, test the Jammers on yourself. See how it feels to know someone is attracted to you and not your pheromones.”
A sad smile touched his lips. He already knew what that was like, and he'd taken him for granted. All he could do was keep moving forward, keep proving he wasn't a lost cause to the other Ferly by saving that girl.
“Tuesday should be fine.” It was time to finish this. Not just their marriage, but her work and UHP.
Aubrey's eyebrows rose in either surprise or interest, it was hard to tell with her. “Here's my card. Text me a time, and I'll text you a place.”
He slid it from her fingers, careful not to touch her. Last thing he needed was Aubrey remembering the direct taste of his vibe. He distanced himself from her immediately, rushing by Henry at the partition. The cluster of people beyond noticed him and backed up. Their masks hid expressions, but not their body language. They turned away. Moved away. The rejection was a blade between his ribs, aiming for his heart. Beyond the staring crowd there was a human shadow who didn't slink away. Instead, she drew up close.
“Let's get out of here,” J
ohn said, not looking at Licia or Henry. He briefly introduced them to each other, though they only nodded in acknowledgement. He could imagine Henry’s anger and perhaps his disgust. Licia didn’t say anything but matched John’s step as they aimed for the nearest exit with Henry close behind. A familiar fluid movement caught his eye.
“What the fuck.” Prisha was suddenly in front of him, seeming to coalesce into existence rather than slip into his path. Shit. He'd forgotten all about her. She’d heard... everything. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg her to—he wasn't exactly sure what. Forgive him? Accept him?
“Prish, I—”
She jabbed his shoulders back, the light push knocking him entirely off balance. “Why didn't you tell me?”
Henry reached out, but John caught himself and waved him off, then he cowered from Prisha’s wrath. “Can we talk about this later? Or at least outside?”
“You bet your ass we're going to talk about this. I'm your best friend. You're supposed to tell me this kind of shit. But fine.” She took his arm and led him towards the exit. She noticed Licia following. “Who's your masked sidekick?” Prisha, willowy, strong, and six feet tall, seemed like a giant goddess next to Licia's five-foot-three wiry stature.
John wanted to be anywhere but here and kept walking. “That's Licia.”
“Cheers.” Prisha nodded at her quick in recognition, then said, “I knew you were insatiable, but you could have told me your just-a-friend wanted in on this.” Prisha’s voice held concealed resentment beneath her humor.
“I brought myself.” Licia answered. “Just keep moving.”
The people they neared stepped back, creating a path in the crowd. Security hovered, tailing them across the room, but Henry kept a buffer. All heads turned their way. All eyes trained on John as he kept his shoulders back and head up.
They left the grand ballroom through a side door and into a glamorous hallway paneled in wood. This was nothing; he'd get a handle on this and spin it. Damnit, but he'd need help from his PR team—if they could accept what he was.