No Peace for the Damned

by Powell, Megan

  Oh God, please don’t let this happen!

  There were at least two people in the room with me, maybe more. Fear, confusion, anger—every foreign thought bored into my mind like metal spikes. I tried to breathe, to settle my muscles. I had to regain control. Warm tears leaked from my eyes.

  On the edge of my mind I saw it. An escape. Empty and gray, a cloud of nothingness crept on the fringes of my thoughts. So dull in its appearance, yet so brilliant in its appeal.

  This was the madness that had taken root in Uncle Mallroy’s mind—the emptiness that I feared more than anything.

  God, no. It had appeared in my mind only once before. The memory of it sent me into tremors. I had thought I could conquer the madness, use it as a temporary escape when my family was being especially cruel.

  I had been wrong.

  The madness was too empty, like turning off reality and personal control altogether. Giving in would be losing myself as well as my consciousness. Defending myself would be impossible. I’d be completely unaware of how my powers were used. I couldn’t let it take me or I might never find a way back.

  My tears turned to sobs. The gray fog pressed further, deeper into my mind. Fear slowly overwhelmed the pain. But even worse than the fear was knowing that somewhere deep inside me, where I would never admit it out loud, there was a piece of me that had always wanted the madness to take over. Insanity would be a freedom—an excuse not to care about my family or their evil or the consequences of my powers.

  There was movement around me. My body tensed as another shot of someone else’s worry drilled into my mind. A comforting burn touched my lips. I swallowed instinctively and the burn slid down my throat. I gulped it again and again until there was nothing left. The gray fog slipped away.

  Aah. So much better. I took several deep breaths and just savored the feel of my own control. Slowly I pried open my eyes. The images blurred together. I blinked the room into focus. Thirteen stared down at me. His eyes were bloodshot and his face pale. His voice was raw as he whispered, “Magnolia? Can you hear me?”

  I lay on my bed at the farmhouse. The sheerness of my yellow curtains made the evening light glow more white than gold, brightening the room more than it would have otherwise. Thirteen had pulled a chair from the kitchen to sit beside my bed. His face was tight.

  Where was Theo?

  I started trembling. Couldn’t breathe, terrified of what had happened to him.

  Thirteen sat straighter, scooted his chair closer. That’s when I saw him. Leaning with his back against the doorframe. A bottle of whisky dangled from his hand. My tremors calmed instantly. Theo. Still beautiful. Still perfect. The ache in my chest rejoiced. Any lingering pain flew right out of me.

  “Are you OK?” he asked. He spoke as if we were the only two people in the room. Maybe in the world.

  “Yeah,” I said softly, “I’m good.” He stepped toward the bed and my body automatically shifted toward him.

  A strange noise escaped Thirteen, freezing me in place. Oh, right, Thirteen’s still here. His head hung forward, his eyes closed.

  “Thirteen?”

  His huge shoulders lifted in a trembling sigh. “I thought you were dead again,” he said in a strangled voice. “I prayed you’d come back, that you’d heal like before, but you didn’t even have a pulse. Not at first.” He shuddered and covered his face.

  “I tried to stay conscious, stay invisible. But Uncle Max’s power was blaring—it was everywhere. And then he came into the room. He came over to where I was knocked backward and…” My heart raced again. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My fingers curled into the sheet. I should have been too spent to muster real panic. But the thought of Uncle Max looming over me, his face contorted in such a familiar rage—it was too terrifying. Thirteen drew a ragged breath. Theo reached out and touched my ankle under the sheet. Instantly my fists relaxed.

  “How did you get to me?” I finally managed.

  “Your panic button set off the Homeland Security alarms,” Thirteen said after clearing his throat. “That was the blaring you heard. Security was immediately sent in to retrieve all the congressional officers. There was a stampede of government employees exiting the building. Jon and Theo were able to slip in after the security guards pulled Maxwell from the room. You were still invisible when they found you.”

  Still invisible? So passing out hadn’t revealed my cover. Then what had made me visible again?

  “I found you,” Theo said quietly, as if reading my thoughts.

  “How? If I was still invisible?” God, my voice was scratchy.

  “I just…knew. I knew where you were.”

  He stood beside the bed now, his hand still resting on my ankle. Instinctively my hand lifted. My fingertips itched to feel the solidness of his arms, his face, his body. Thirteen shifted beside me. I blinked and dropped my hand.

  My mouth opened and closed a few times but my throat was too dry now to make words. I wanted more details, but for once I thought I needed something other than whisky.

  “Your camouflage dissipated when Theo, well, when he touched you,” Thirteen said, eyeing me closely. I looked back at Theo. For once he didn’t look confused or like he was searching for some explanation. He looked possessive. A raw hunger darkened his eyes. My insides somersaulted at the look. Not because it worried me or had me questioning again our growing bond. But because it felt right. He should be possessive. I belonged to him.

  I shook my head and forced myself to focus. “I—I didn’t push the panic button,” I said.

  “When Jon and Theo found you, the key fob was so deep in your palm the button was still being pressed.” Thirteen relaxed a little then and reached out to touch my forearm. “Magnolia, what happened?”

  I closed my eyes for a minute. “Uncle Max sensed I was there and sent out a mental shock wave.”

  Thirteen’s eyes went wide. All the color left his face. “He sensed you?”

  “He sensed a supernatural presence,” I corrected myself quickly. “He didn’t know it was me.”

  My throat was in flames now. But before I could ask for a drink, Theo was there, a full glass of water in his hand. His fingers brushed with mine as I took the glass, and I gasped. Oh God. It was just like in the kitchen all those weeks ago—that brushed contact so much more than a firm touch. I could see it so clearly I stopped breathing. Theo, holding me, his calloused hands running up and down my arms as I pressed into his bare chest. My body sliding perfectly into place along the length of his. “Mag…” his lips had moved against my cheek as he breathed into my ear.

  “Mag?” he said again, louder this time. I opened my eyes. Theo now sat at the foot of the bed, his hand moving slowly up my calf. He leaned toward me, his breathing as heavy as mine. That possessive look was more than just a dark gleam in his eye now. His shoulders were set, his jaw flexed. His lips parted.

  “Ahem,” Thirteen cleared his throat. A shiver swept up my spine, bringing me back and reddening my cheeks. Theo blinked rapidly, shifting his body away from me. But his hand remained on my leg, the contact still there.

  “The important question is,” Thirteen said, shooting pointed glances at each of us, “why did Maxwell leave with the security guards? Why didn’t he just mind-manipulate the guards so he could stay behind and find out who was in his office?”

  I took a long sip of water. Just stay focused. But his hand was so warm. So strong against my leg. I closed my eyes tight.

  “If security was making all the senators leave the building, there would have been questions,” I said quickly. “People would have reported his absence and, as powerful as Uncle Max is, he can’t keep track of every single person in the building at one time. And if the media were there, it would have already been on TV that he was still inside. He and Father rely too much on their public images to risk something like that.”

  I gulped more water then shrugged. “Or, hell, maybe he was just so thrown by the idea of someone actually trying to break into his thoughts th
at it didn’t even occur to him to mess with security’s minds.”

  Theo’s fingers traced circles on my calf. “Yeah, I can see how you’d throw someone off like that,” he murmured, his voice rough. Oh. My. God. To just be alone right now, curled up beside Theo. The trace of his fingers—I felt it everywhere. So much more than just a touch sliding along my leg.

  From the doorway behind Theo, Jon stepped into the room. I jumped. How long had he been there? I hadn’t even noticed his arrival. Shit. That wasn’t good. I should have felt his presence in the house. When he glanced my way, accusations were all over his face.

  “We still have some questions,” Jon announced. Theo frowned and pulled his hand from me. His thoughts were jumbled again. He got to his feet and stepped away from the bed as Jon walked into the room.

  “We still don’t know what Senator Kelch’s intentions are against the Network. We need—”

  “Yes, we do,” I interrupted before Jon’s rant could really get going. “Uncle Max has no intentions.”

  Jon and Theo both gaped. “What?”

  “I saw into his head, just before everything went black. Policies and politics, and even some very not-nice things that might be happening soon.” I turned to Thirteen. “The Network needs to up its protection on Senator Claussen, but we can talk about that later.” I turned back to Jon. “But there was nothing, absolutely nothing, about the Network. Nothing about recent tortures or atomic weapons; nothing about l’annuaire. Nothing. Maxwell isn’t behind the attacks. He doesn’t even know about them.”

  I sank completely into the pillows. The hit that my mind and soul had taken in the last several hours was catching up with me. Then to have Theo pull away like that—I closed my eyes and moved the sheet a little farther up my body.

  “Well,” Thirteen said finally. “That’s going to change some things.”

  My eyes stayed shut but I felt the bed move when Jon leaned over and pressed his hands down at the foot of the mattress.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because that just doesn’t make any sense. We all agreed that an attack against the Network would have to come from the brothers, most likely with Maxwell at the helm. If he’s not behind this, then who? Do we go after Magnus? It has to be one of them.”

  I shook my head. God, I was so tired. “No. It doesn’t work like that. If Uncle Max doesn’t know anything, then neither do the others. They can’t keep secrets from each other. Their minds are too closely linked.”

  At least it had never worked like that in the past. But Uncle Max was blocking his thoughts now. Why? I was too tired to explain this new development and they wouldn’t understand anyway.

  Jon didn’t like my answer. “What do you mean it doesn’t work like that? Doesn’t work like what?”

  Exhaustion tugged at my consciousness. The pillows were so cool and soft.

  “Magnolia, what do you mean…” Jon started again.

  “Jon,” Thirteen’s voice was low and soothing and commanding all at the same time. “We can discuss it further in a few hours. For the time being, it’s been a long day and we all need some rest. We have enough information to begin rethinking our next steps. Let’s just leave her be for now.”

  Thirteen’s big hand patted my forearm. His warmth felt good, safe. He wouldn’t pull away from me just because other team members were around. I heard the shuffle of feet and felt a dip in the bed as everyone moved to leave. I cracked open an eye.

  Theo still stood in the doorway, and that new look of possession was back. I shivered under the weight of that look. He stared down at me for another moment before he finally turned away. Softly, he closed the door behind him.

  I fell back against the pillows. I hadn’t even realized that I’d leaned toward him.

  In my dream, there was only red now—crimson and salty—full of power and rage and rightness. In this dream I knew myself. I knew my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses—every nuance of the emotions and power within me. There was no more confusion, no more doubt. I pulsed with the certainty that I was everything I was meant to be. Complete in every way. And I totally welcomed it.

  The crimson deepened and expanded, soaking into my skin like a sponge and turning my flesh a deeper, purplish pink.

  Utter bliss.

  My body relaxed as my powers swelled. My muscles flexed and my bones shifted. But there was no pain. I was being molded. And that was just fine.

  A flash of light burst from my chest, but the crimson thickened, began to coagulate. On reflex, I pulled against it, but its solid grip tightened. Quiet uncertainty stirred. The crimson was acting on its own, struggling against my pull, and I struggled to wake myself, but the dream itself did the same, resisting me.

  Another golden flash.

  My chest clenched tighter than ever, and I gasped as a clarity approached my consciousness. All those flashes of color I’d seen while awake—it wasn’t part of the dream at all. It was a part of me. It was the fear and the rage and the pain, welling up and taking me over.

  Thirteen’s face appeared before me. What was this? There had never been people in my dreams before. I lifted a hand to wave him over but the red held me tight. Then he turned to me. His hands clasped the sides of his head, his eyes poured red, adding to the sea of red around me. Blood. And I was reveling in it.

  I pulled again, this time with force. It still wouldn’t give. Theo appeared then. Oh God. And Heather. They reached for me, red spilling from their fingers, their throats, their mouths. The rightness and fulfillment I’d felt earlier vanished, shut off like a light. The red magnified, nearly purple now. My flesh blackened as the blood continued to fill me from the outside in.

  Another flash of light shot out. I was still here, still in control. I gathered strength from every piece of energy I had left. I would not hurt them. I would not let the red take me. With one final pull I wrenched myself free.

  I awoke, gasping, my body shaking violently. My heart pounded in my chest. Evil pulsed deep inside me. And if I let it, it would carry me away.

  I put a hand to my head just to make sure it was still attached and felt that I was soaked in sweat. The backs of Theo’s fingers brushed along my neck. I jumped with a yelp. He crouched beside the bed, frowning at my panic. The vision from my dreams pierced my mind—his pain, his blood. All from somewhere inside me. I shut my eyes tight. When I opened them, he was still there, frowning harder.

  Theo’s sun-kissed hair framed his face. His eyes looked even deeper and more beautiful than usual. Slowly, his presence calmed my racing pulse. I could breathe deeply now.

  I leaned back against the pillows. He reached out again, his hand moving with me as I lay back down. His fingers gently traced a path along my jawline. The movement was so natural, he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

  “Everyone’s gone,” he said quietly. “You want to hear about the next plan of action?”

  I shook my head no before he even stopped talking.

  I didn’t want to think about what was coming or who we were targeting next. I didn’t want to know the Network’s next plan to use me for my powers. I didn’t want to think about the blood in my dream or how wonderful and right it felt to soak myself in it. He kicked off his shoes at the foot of the bed. Then he looked back at me with a new hesitation in his eyes.

  I took him in, his perfect tan and his tight T-shirt that emphasized the definition of his chest. I sat up and pulled the sheet back on the side closest to him. Then I relaxed back into the pillows and watched the smoothness of his muscles flex and ripple as he slid under the sheet next to me. His clothes were still on and he had yet to touch me, but my entire body grew warm and tensed in places I didn’t know could tense. But when he reached out and touched my chin again, this time lifting my face to meet his eyes, my body released itself.

  He held my face with the touch of his fingers. I closed my eyes and turned my head into his palm, gently forcing his entire hand to cup my cheek.

  “Magnolia…” he breat
hed. My body flexed as a steady pulse built inside me. My powers swelled beneath my skin. Theo’s hands moved from my face to pull me to his chest. I rested my head on his bicep as his other arm wrapped around me.

  “Sleep, my Mag,” he whispered. I let him hold me tighter and let the confusion of the unknown wash away. I drifted into a serene sleep.

  This time, I dreamed of gold.

  “You know, your attitude really sucks.”

  The next morning when the others arrived for the briefing, Shane decided to take it upon himself to fill in the role of asshole now that Marie was away with Charles and Heather on l’annuaire guard duty.

  “I’m just trying to understand what the hell happened yesterday,” he snapped at me. “The whole ‘I would have seen Magnus’s thoughts in Maxwell’s head’ thing—it’s bullshit! It doesn’t make sense!”

  I took a long pull on my whiskey and slammed the glass hard on the table.

  “I don’t know how else to explain it other than exactly the way I have already explained it like a hundred times!”

  There was something else tainting his thoughts. An anger that had nothing to do with the mission. I’d felt it the moment he arrived, but his thoughts were racing and pulled in all directions. I couldn’t tell what his anger was about. Maybe he’d had messed up dreams last night too.

  Whatever it was, Shane reeled with questions. And the order for more investigative research had him pissed to an unreasonable level. He didn’t trust my detail of the events and felt we shouldn’t steer away from Uncle Max just because I claimed he wasn’t behind the Network abductions.

  “Shane, man, we’ve been over this,” Jon said from the counter, where he finished off the coffee. “We need to completely change our approach. Thirteen’s decision is made. So either offer something new, or shut the hell up.”

  Cordele sighed from the seat next to me. She spun her glass of OJ on the table between her hands the same way I spun my whiskey. When had she started doing that?

  “We’ll just see when Thirteen gets here,” Shane mumbled under his breath.