It was not Grant's custom to eat alone. He and his sister usually made a point to eat with as many of the others as possible. But he didn't feel like dealing with everyone's pointed stares and answerless questions tonight. Even now, he would spot them taking fleeting glances at him from the corners of their eyes, though they'd quickly look away if he caught them in the act.
He denied Julie's comforts as well; even her mothering was tiresome on rare occasions like this. After all, it wasn't every day you almost died.
It wasn't every day you had to watch so many other people die.
The day had been dreadfully long. He just wanted to be alone someplace, where the rest of the world couldn't intrude for just a few minutes of solitude. Was that too much to ask?
Mostly, he wanted time to think about the old man he'd met and the "three acts" that would countdown to ... something.
It sounded important. Formal, even. Like something from a prophecy. Grant had had plenty of experience with those, thanks to that slab of rock he'd come to hate that was known as the Dominion Stone.
He didn't want to think about it, but that was where his mind jumped. Was that crazy old man trying to tell him something about his prophesied role as the Bringer?
Wow, he thought. There's a word I actually haven't thought about in weeks.
But no, it couldn't be about that. There was no Bringer. He'd denied his supposed destiny and made his own choice as to what to do with his life. That prophecy crap was nonsense, and he'd proven it by refusing to fall into the trap of the Keeper. His grandfather.
Grant ached all the way down to his bones; his muscles protested every movement. But there was no time for that now ... Alex had dragged him back here to the warehouse for some downtime. She and Julie had tag-teamed, insisting that he get something to eat and at least six hours of rest.
He obliged only because he felt like he might fall over if he didn't rest soon. But it would be no more than six hours, he promised himself. A little shut-eye, and then back out to help with the cleanup. With so much property damage and loss of life, it would be weeks before Los Angeles could put the pieces back together and resemble its old self again-if it ever did.
But before he was allowed to sleep, Lisa grabbed him. Not known for subtlety, Lisa ignored his protests and desire to sleep, and yanked him away to an isolated corner of the warehouse where she'd set up shop with a modest desk.
With Daniel refusing all company-except for Grant, on occasionshe'd considered leaving the group, but her feelings for Daniel still ran stronger than she liked to admit. So she had found a use for herself in overseeing the group's financial obligations. Paying rent on the warehouse, transportation, utilities, food, and other supplies-she kept track of it all, because no one else did.
There in her corner, she finally had her conversation with Grant. True to her word, the discussion was not about Daniel in any way.
It was a twenty-minute conversation with voices lowered enough that no one else could hear anything that was said. Lisa did the majority of the talking, making a confession to Grant and swearing him to secrecy. Though stunned by her admission, he agreed there was no reason that any of the others needed to know what she'd told him.
But he would certainly never look at Lisa the same way again.
After their conversation, Grant longed for bed once more. It was only nine o'clock, and many of the team members were gathering around the television for the latest news coverage, while others turned in for bed. His mere appearance near the Common Room area made him the center of attention again. It was to be expected, after all that had transpired in the last eighteen hours, but it made him feel squeamish.
Grant also found that he couldn't stop thinking about Daniel. Despite all of the other thoughts racing around inside his head, despite everything he'd seen and done and everyone he'd encountered today ...
Something about the color of the sunset had caused him to think of the crime that had been committed on the floor where he now stood.
Unable to get the thought out of his head, Grant nonetheless hesitated as his feet pounded on the steps that led upstairs to Daniel's lab. He sighed heavily and frowned. Any trip to see Daniel these days was something to be dreaded.
Then again, it wasn't very long ago when most of these good people probably felt the same way about seeing me....
Grant took the remaining stairs two at a time. A quick left turn led him down the narrow hallway to the door that still bore an unpolished, scratched brass nameplate that read "Dr. Daniel Cossick, PhD". Grant barely registered the disarray that had once been Lisa's outer office, making a beeline straight for the second door.
"She send you again?" Daniel asked without looking up as Grant opened the door with his mind, before he had ever come near it. Daniel was intently reading a computer screen, but he was barely recognizable as the man Grant met three months ago.
"Everyone sent me," Grant replied. "We're worried about you."
"I'm fine. I have a smaller comm link design that will fit more comfortably in your ear; I'm sending it to Fletcher for production now."
Daniel hadn't had a haircut in two months; his face was lucky to be shaved once a week. His clothes hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine in at least as long. The only familiar thing that remained was his glasses, perched at the tip of his nose, and the intense focus of his eyes behind them.
"Hector brought takeout for everyone," Grant surreptitiously offered. Lisa repeatedly suspected he wasn't eating well, though they couldn't prove it. "It's downstairs if you want any."
"I'm fine." He scratched at the scruffy stubble about his cheeks, as he continued studying his computer.
The others couldn't seem to find out much about Daniel's state of being at all, as he refused to see anyone except Grant. And then only to get or give information about Grant's technical needs in the field. Whatever technology they needed to perform their missions, Daniel provided. He also crafted training equipment from time to time. Otherwise he was engaged in what appeared to be long, arduous hours of self-loathing.
His body was more or less healed from the attack he'd suffered months ago at the hands of Detective Matthew Drexel, though Lisa mentioned often that he never quite seemed to move or function the same again. Daniel had slowed down, was rarely seen walking, and had lost a good ten to twenty pounds. He sat at his desk whenever Grant visited.
Grant considered sharing his encounter with the strange old man at the nursing home today with Daniel, but scratched it. That sort of thing would be more up Morgan's alley, anyway.
He switched to a more direct approach. "Are you planning to stay up here indefinitely?"
"As long as we remain in this building. Or until you no longer need my help."
Grant was one of only two people in the building who knew the reason Daniel remained up here. Downstairs, in the very center of the Loci's new home, despite much cleaning, was a blood stain. Nobody else knew what it was and a rug covered it, but still it waited there in the central Common Room area where chairs, a sofa, and a large television resided.
"There's nothing to be feared down there, you know," Grant said tentatively. "It's just us. Your friends."
"No it's not. There are ... memories."
"Daniel, talk to me. You can't bottle this up; believe me, I know. Pretend that we're friends, if you have to," Grant said.
"We are friends," Daniel replied, pulling back from his computer at last and looking up. "But this has nothing to do with you."
Grant sighed. How could he convince this man that he didn't have to carry his guilt and pain alone? That he didn't have to bury himself under the weight of his own sins? That self-flagellation would never be enough penance to rid himself of this Hell he was living in?
Daniel was nearly too far gone into his own world. Soon he'd be untouchable.
"You're going to have to find a way to move on from this," Grant said bluntly. Aloud, it sounded much more inadequate than it had in his head. "We need you."
Grant hesitated, then added, "She needs you."
Daniel wouldn't meet his eyes.
Grant grasped for something to say, but what was there? He had no frame of reference for what Daniel was feeling. Well, there was that one time he thought he'd killed the mercenary Konrad ...
"What happened to Drexel was unfortunate, but it's not like-"
Daniel's head popped up. "Don't! Don't say he had it coming. Or that I was `under duress.' Or that deep down, you know I'm a good person. Don't try to fix it, all right! Just ... spare me."
Grant was at a loss.
"The truth is," Daniel said softly, "in my heart of hearts, I think I created that entire situation, because I wanted-"
"Justice? Drexel reaped what he sowed, and he was so deeply covered by the system, it was the only way he ever would have been punished for his crimes. He will have no more victims; people's lives have been saved because of what you did, Doc."
Daniel shook his head. "It wasn't justice I was interested in, and we both know it. But history repeated itself. Once again, I got exactly what I wanted, regardless of the cost."
Grant was too tired, too emotionally drained for this. He knew Daniel was referring to his past, to the devilish deal he struck with the company called Paragenics Group years ago to save his own life, but which also buried an unspeakable truth. He understood it all.
But Grant couldn't get himself to sympathize with the man. He was just too spent. Resigned to leave Daniel to his misery, he stood.
"I, uh-I heard about the truck thing," Daniel said, his hungry interest betraying the layers of walls he'd built around himself and his emotions. "Did you try that new focusing technique?"
Grant nodded, unsure whether to be happy or sad over this display of life and passion that remained inside his friend. He returned to his seat. "Worked flawlessly. I did it before entering the situation, and everything came so naturally after that.... More and more, I'm finding I don't even have to concentrate and focus to use my abilities. It's becoming second nature, I think."
Daniel's eyes flared with excitement, but he quickly looked down and away, searching his desktop for something. "Now that you've mastered fine control of your psychokinesis, I've been thinking you might turn your attention to honing other aspects of your power."
"What other aspects?"
"The Forging, for starters," Daniel replied. "Your link to the others. Just as your psychokinesis was at first, this telepathic link with the other Ringwearers is very reflexive right now. You've even learned to send them rudimentary signals and orders. I wonder what might be achieved if you tried pushing this ability further?"
The notion had never struck Grant before. He found it intriguing.
"Try this," Daniel said. "Find one of them in your mind, and hold onto that image."
Grant closed his eyes. "Okay," he said, eyes still closed. "I've got Alex. She's downstairs talking to Julie and Fletcher. I think they're at his workstation."
Daniel leaned forward on his elbows, which were positioned atop the desk. "Even though you're locked onto Alex, you can see your sister and Fletcher, and his equipment, all within your field of vision?"
"Yes, mostly."
"Hold tightly to that image, but imagine you're looking through a camera's lens, and try pulling the camera back. See if you can widen the field of vision, and see more of their surroundings."
Concentrating hard, Grant pulled back as instructed and surprised himself. "I can see Fletcher's entire work area now, and-"
Something caught his attention. He zeroed in on one of the moni tors, but as soon as he removed his focus from Alex, the image vanished from his mind. His eyes popped open.
"What happened?" Daniel asked.
Grant was still processing the image he'd seen on Fletcher's monitor, and then he refocused his thoughts onto one of the Loci, attempting to trace her location....
"The usual-big trouble," he concluded and darted from the office. The office door shut itself behind him.
"Where is she?" Grant demanded, descending the stairs rapidly.
"Who?" asked Fletcher.
"Nora!" Grant replied. "I just saw her on one of your television monitors, and she's in danger, I can feel it."
"It's okay, honey," Julie soothed him. "I sent her out on a Railroad errand. She's meeting a contact."
Though Ringwearers were finding the Loci often, from all over the world, none of them could be considered "new." Their Shifts all dated back to the same time period as the rest of the Loci-between Morgan, the first Ringwearer, and Grant, the last. These newcomers had remained in hiding after the trauma the Shift caused, only choosing to step out of the shadows now that they were discovering a new purpose in joining Grant and the others like themselves.
That is, everyone but the British team they'd watched on television earlier in the day. No one knew where they had come from, only that they were a very recent addition to the Ringwearers' numbers.
But elsewhere, news had spread fast. To ensure that no one untoward infiltrated the group, but that those Ringwearers who needed to find them could, Julie and Fletcher had set up a complex system of checks and balances. Applicants had to ask the right people, undergo a series of background tests, and much more, just to find out the location of the warehouse.
They named this covert system of entry to the team "the Railroad," in honor of the Underground Railroad made famous during the American Civil War.
On a daily basis, Grant found himself in awe of his sister. Not only did she single-handedly oversee the Railroad, but she had resigned from her professorship at UCLA to devote all of her time to their work here. She probably put in more hours than anyone else on the team.
And she was a member of the team-powers or no powers-as far as Grant was concerned.
Alex piped up. "Did you send her alone? With everything going on in the city?"
Julie blanched. "I didn't think. I'm sorry."
"Where did you send her?" Grant asked.
"The contact was to be made at Dodger Stadium," Julie replied.
"She's nowhere near there," Grant said with conviction, shaking his head. "Fletcher, can you trace her?"
Fletcher spun in his seat and engaged his attention fully upon his computer feeds. Every member of the team had tracking devices built into the earpieces they wore in the field. "That's confirmed. Looks like she's down at ... huh."
"Fletcher ..." Grant warned, impatient.
"She's at the Metro Center Station."
Julie got it immediately. "Isn't that where-?"
"It's where I fought Konrad the day I was Shifted," Grant replied. "Below the Wagner Building."
"Why would she go there?" Alex pondered.
"You said she's in danger?" Julie asked.
Grant nodded, closing his eyes. "Some kind of big fight going on, all around her. Dozens of people involved, from the looks of it, maybe more."
"Nora can handle herself," Fletcher pointed out.
Alex and Grant exchanged a meaningful glance, but said nothing. Nora could handle herself far better than most of the team knew, including Fletcher.
"Put a team together," Grant ordered. "We'll back her up." He sighed, still longing for rest. "Hector?"
"I think he's asleep," Fletcher replied.
"Then let him sleep," said Grant. Hector had trouble sleeping, everyone knew. His energy level was like that of a child's; it made it very hard for him to find rest at night.
Alex turned to him. "Why don't we make this a training exercise? We'll take those two new guys along. What were their names again?"
"Henrike. Wilhelm," Fletcher spoke into a headset as he placed it over his spiked hair. "Please report to command central, on the double."
"I want to know what Nora's doing down there," Grant said softly. "There, of all places ..."
"And now she's in a big scuffle," Alex noted. "Is it my imagination, or does she attract this kind of trouble wherever she goes?"
Grant sighed. "I'm getting tired of he
r antics. She doesn't seem to understand the concept of `teamwork'."
"Then she should be cut," Fletcher suggested. At their looks of surprise, he continued, "People are dying out there, and Nora is taking time to blow off steam in a random fistfight? Don't we have bigger fish to fry? I'm just asking-because no one else is-in the grand scheme, is she really worth the trouble? Does she matter that much?"
Grant started to answer, but Alex beat him to it.
"Everyone matters," she replied.
There was no Wagner Building anymore of course, but the subway station below the surface had been repaired and opened to the public again just a few weeks ago.
Alex and Grant approached the station from the sidewalk above, trailed by the beefy, muscular Henrike, who looked ready to take on the world, and Wilhelm, who was clearly unprepared for being thrust into action so quickly. The spot where the Wagner Building once stood had been cleared and converted into a downtown parking garage that had just opened days ago.
Grant took in the changes to these familiar surroundings with interest, but still he was struggling hard to keep his eyes open. His knees were wobbly and kept trying to give out.
As they approached the top of the stairs leading down to the subway, they were met by a handful of policemen putting on riot gear. Their clear shields were cracked and broken, and their worn eyes betrayed similar spirits. They all sported bruises and bandages of one sort or another. Clearly the city's resources were still maxed out, if these four wounded and worn out cops were all they could spare.
Sounds of fighting, screaming, and panic could be heard from the massive stairwell leading down, and every so often, a pedestrian or two emerged from the stairs and ran for their lives out onto the streets.
Grant approached the policemen, who were off to the side of the stairwell, still suiting up in their gear. "It's all right, guys," he said, "we've got this."
As one, all four of the policemen looked up and their shoulders fell upon seeing Grant and hearing his words. There was no frustration or disappointment on their part, only relief.
Fearless (Dominion Trilogy #2) Page 7