Harrier was also wrestling with patient 278, an older male jacker who was trying to keep him from mentally ravaging patient 305. Rather unsuccessfully, it seemed.
What’s his strength level? we asked Harrier. We kept our linked thoughts cool, dispassionate, trying to disguise our eagerness for a scrap of evidence that showed we were making progress.
Down to a seven, Harrier thought, still intent on keeping patient 278 from his pathetic attempts at rescuing patient 305.
We glanced at our clipboard. He was an eight just last week. Excellent. A thrill ran through us. What about the changeling?
Several dead spots, Harrier thought.
We need to be precise, Mr. Harrier, we thought impatiently.
Harrier searched the changeling’s mind, something we refrained from doing. Dipping into jackers’ minds was as distasteful to us as their existence. We didn’t want to contaminate ourselves with contact with them any more than strictly necessary for the purposes of the experiments. Of course, linking with Harrier’s mind was something of a pleasure, given his enjoyment of our mission and common understanding of our purpose.
Eight, Harrier thought. One of the dead spots is especially large, in the prefrontal cortex.
We checked the clipboard again. Nearly double from the last round of tests. The damaged neurons, especially in the regions where the jacking ability seemed concentrated, were a side effect, but a small price to pay for the results we were achieving. However, with this much damage, patient 305’s usefulness in the tests would soon come to an end. We would have Harrier dispose of her in the city. She might survive the demens that roamed there, or she might not, but that was of no concern to us. She had served her purpose already.
I jerked out of Kestrel’s memories, the mental vertigo jarring as we mentally separated. I bent over, taking deep draughts of air into my lungs and trying to breathe away the queasiness. It was more than I could take, seeing the changelings like this. Tasting his callous disregard for them. I knew better. I should have pulled out sooner.
But I’d seen something new in Kestrel’s memory, so it was worth it. The spots—the dead zones I’d seen in so many changelings—they were like a roadmap to the jacking-areas of the brain. I would have to start there, if I were to try to reverse the effects that Kestrel had induced in so many innocent kids. And those jacking zones… they might be more sensitive to the inhibitors as well. I would try to make a true map of those to guide my efforts in healing not only the changelings, but the others affected by the inhibitors that Kestrel had designed and that I had put into the water.
If that was even possible.
Hinckley was on his feet. “Hey, are you okay?” He came up next to me, looking like he wanted to pat my back or something, but hesitated, all six foot plus of him teetering awkwardly.
I waved him off. “I’m good. Just, you know…”
Hinckley threw a disgusted look at Kestrel, who was likewise sucking in deep breaths to recover from the invasion of his mind that I had just put him through. His head was hanging down, so he didn’t see Hinckley’s expression.
“Yeah,” Hinckley said. “A regular psychopath playground in there, isn’t it?”
Kestrel rumbled a low chuckle, deep in his chest, and I felt Hinckley’s iron-band strength gripping my arm before I realized I had pulled it back to throw a punch at Kestrel’s face.
“Easy,” Hinckley said. “You weren’t too happy the last time you tried that, remember?”
I stared at my tightly clenched fist and Hinckley’s long-fingered hand wrapped around my wrist, holding me back.
I gave him a wide-eyed look. “I swear, it’s just automatic.” I relaxed, and Hinckley released me.
“I know the feeling.”
I nodded, shaking out my fist and rubbing my wrist. “Thanks.” It was a good thing I kept my distance. I really did want Kestrel alive long enough to answer all our questions.
Hinckley shrugged and shuffled back to his seat.
I worked the tension out of my neck by rolling my head. “I think I’m going to take a break.”
Hinckley nodded without answering, and Kestrel let out a snort. I whipped my head back to him. He was looking up at me now, cold steel-blue eyes piercing and very much alert, in spite of the med patch.
“Am I too much for you, Kira?” he asked. “I always knew you were weak, under all that pretense and bravado.”
“Don’t piss me off, Kestrel,” I said. “I’m one of the few people who still wants you alive.”
“Yes, you are,” he said with a half smile that creeped me out. “One of the very few, I imagine.”
I shook my head and turned away from him, back to Hinckley. “I’ll be back in the morning. Are you doing watch duty overnight?”
Hinckley pointed to the screen in his hand, as if it was obvious he was staying for the duration.
“All right,” I said. “Don’t kill him before I come back.”
“You got it, boss,” he said, already absorbed in watching his game.
But by the next morning, Kestrel was dead.
It wasn’t any of us who finally did him in. Hinckley just found his stone cold body the next morning, still strapped to the chair, no obvious signs of a struggle or abuse. He had thought Kestrel was sleeping, but then he couldn’t rouse him. Kestrel must have killed himself, although no one could figure out exactly how. I had contemplated something similar once—using my mind to stop my heart—to escape Kestrel’s torments and deprive him of using me for his evil ends. I didn’t know if Kestrel had such an ability, but then for all my hate fantasies over time, I never really knew much about the man. But if anyone would know how a jacker could commit suicide, it would be him.
I couldn’t bring myself to regret he was dead, but I did wish we had pulled all the answers out of his head before he put an end to his hateful existence. And finding him dead in his chair made me flat angry.
No one had got to put a bullet in him after all.
CAUTION: do not read unless you've already read Free Souls.
This DELETED SCENE takes place during the final chapter of Free Souls. Told from Kira's point-of-view, this scene is another "missing moment." In the novel, Kira refers to Julian arguing with her about not shying away from drinking the water after the inhibitors are dumped into it. In Drinking the Water, the reader gets to see that confrontation, as well as some of Kira's concerns about the two people—Julian and Anna—who know the truth about who put the inhibitors in the water to begin with.
I stared at the glass of water in front of me. It sat alone on the battered wooden table, tiny bubbles of air dotting the inside of the glass. A drop clung to the side, above the water line, slowly working its way down. I’d drawn the water straight from the tap, and it was clear except for a few mysterious bright spots gleaming along the surface where the distortions of the glass bent and focused the dim light of the room.
The water looked pure. Innocent.
But I knew it was filled with genetic inhibitors that would poison my brain.
The privacy room was drafty, the Chicago winter seeping in through the outside brick wall, but my face felt hot, probably from the pounding of my heart. A tap-tap-tapping sound drew my attention. My hand beat a nervous rhythm against the side of my chair. I stilled it by gripping the rough wood of the seat, the edge of which bit into my legs even through my regulation JFA camouflage pants. The sharpness of it cut through my agitation and helped to focus my thoughts. The room was empty except for me, the furniture, and the glass of water. I had locked the door behind me, glad for the chance to take this first drink alone. There would have to be many more, but the first looked to be even more difficult than I thought. I pried my hand from the seat, shook the nerves away, then reached for the glass.
A pounding on the door made me jerk, and I nearly knocked over the water.
“Occupied!” I yelled, as if the closed—and locked—privacy room door wasn’t enough of a hint.
“Kira! There you are,” Ju
lian’s voice came through the door. The doorknob rattled. “Let me in.”
I sighed and tucked my hand under my leg. “What part of ‘privacy room’ don’t you understand?” I only half hoped that would drive him away. Knowing Julian, it would take a lot more. I contemplated gulping down the water then sauntering over to the door with a dribble running down my chin, just to see how red his face could get, but that wasn’t really fair. Julian meant well, even if he was wrong.
“Kira.” His voice was calm now, restrained, but it had taken him a moment to get into that state. “Open the door. I want to talk to you.”
I sighed again, resigning myself to the fight. I pushed up from the chair and dragged my feet to the door. When I pulled it open, Julian nearly fell into the room. He must have been ready to break down the door if I didn’t let him in. It made my heart sing and cry at the same time, a mixture that sapped the strength from my shoulders and dragged them down.
Julian righted himself, then caught sight of the glass, still half full on the table. “Did you…”
“Not yet,” I said. “But you’re welcome to join me.” I swept my hand into the room, and when he hesitantly took a step inside, I closed the door behind him. That’s when I noticed he had a bottle of water in his hand. “Brought your own supplies, I see.” I brushed past him then threw a grin back to let him know I was joking.
He shook his head and followed me to the table, placing the water bottle in the center and moving the glass to the end furthest from me, as if I were a toddler, and he had to keep the poison out of reach. I gave him a dirty look.
“This,” he gestured to the bottle, “is for you. I’ve had a few JFA members out looking. They had to buy out four convenience stores, but now we’re stocked, at least for a while. We can find more when that runs out.”
I picked up the water bottle and handed it back to him. “I don’t need this.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, refusing to take it. His striking blue eyes blazed at me. “We all want you to drink it, Kira. You’re one of the few here who might be able to fix the effects of the inhibitors. You need to drink it. We need your skills if we’re going to understand how to combat the effects, whatever they end up being.”
It had only been a day since I had dumped the inhibitors in the water. Julian and Anna were the only ones who knew I was responsible. She was still angry, judging by her silence and the amount of time she had spent in the training room since she found out, but Julian had almost immediately understood and forgiven me. He seemed to automatically give me the benefit of the doubt, saying we would make the best of it, whatever came. But no one really knew exactly what that would be, and everyone was leery of taking the first drink. There was talk of avoiding it as long as possible, even though that was an illusion at best. Water wasn’t just in our glasses, it was in our food, in our laundry, on the plates we washed and in the showers we took. There was really no avoiding it, even if the first instinct was to try. I could just imagine the pressure Julian must have brought to get them to horde water bottles meant only for me. The irony of it made my stomach twist a little more and made me even more determined to drink what was in the glass. Especially considering that I was the one who poisoned it in the first place.
“Yes, I’m the only one—at least that we know of—that can sense the changes, assuming people will let me into their heads.” I set the water bottle on the table. “But I can do that just as easily, even better, in my own head. Which is precisely why I need to be the first to take a drink. We need to get ahead of this thing, so we know what’s coming. Besides, someone has to do it, and I might as well set an example.”
“I’ve already taken the first drink,” Julian said softly. “So you don’t need to worry about that.”
My eyebrows hiked up, and I couldn’t help sweeping a look over him, as if I could see anything different from the outside. He was dressed in a JFA standard-issue, black turtleneck, with tan cargo pants. The tight-fitting shirt stretched over the bandage that still gripped his upper arm, covering his wound from the grazing bullet at the water station battle. He was injured and still healing; the last thing he should have done was drink poisoned water.
My gaze traveled back up to his eyes, but I couldn’t see any difference there either. I took his hand, warm against the cool of the room, and led him to the musty couch that was shoved up against the wall.
We eased onto the couch together, knees close, and I peered into his eyes. “Does it feel any different?” I asked quietly.
“No.” His gaze didn’t waver from mine.
“Let me in,” I said.
“It won’t matter, Kira.”
“Just let me try.” I waited for his nod—an indication that he had pulled back his automatic defenses to allow me into his mind—then mentally reached forward and dipped inside. It was like a large empty room, and my reach bounced around the edges, searching for him. But of course he wasn’t there. And he had no mindscent whatsoever.
I told you it wouldn’t work. His thoughts chased me with their echoes. You can’t interface with my mindfield, not the way you can with everyone else.
Because you’re on a different frequency, or something, right?
Yes.
Maybe the inhibitors won’t work on you, then. But I still want to check. Maybe if you didn’t pull your defenses back all the way. I closed my eyes, steeling myself for the onslaught of terror that Julian’s defenses would raise up from my instinctual mind. Relax it a little, and I’ll see if I can push through the crazy stuff to reach you.
My body was tense, but instead of a horror show deluging my senses, the warm feel of Julian’s lips on mine shocked my eyes open. His hand gently held my cheek, and I closed my eyes again, leaning into the kiss.
I’d much rather do this than scare you half to death. Julian brushed his hand through my hair, pulled me deeper into the kiss, then slid his other hand slowly down my side and curved it around my back. He moved closer, inching our bodies to nearly touching. Waves of warmth pulsed through me, starting with his lips on mine, reaching my toes, then surging up again.
He was trying to distract me from drinking the water. And doing an excellent job of it.
The hand at the small of my back pressed me closer, but I resisted, putting a speedbump in front of the runaway train that was his kiss. You’re trying to change the subject.
Were we talking about something? he asked, but his lips curved a smile as he moved to trail kisses along my jaw.
“Julian,” I said, my voice whispery.
“Yes,” he breathed against me, his fingertips drawing hot traces on my cheek. My mind blanked when he kissed the side of my neck, then I forced myself to push away. He didn’t release me entirely, but his velvet touches on my body stilled.
“I have to do it.” I glanced at the glass of water still sitting on the table, then looked into his clear blue eyes.
“No you don’t.” He sighed and tucked the hair he had mussed behind my ear. “You shouldn’t. There’s no one in the JFA who thinks you should drink the water. They all know what you did—breaking Sasha out of prison, saving me from Kestrel. You’re their hero, Kira. They don’t want you to suffer for it. Besides, the JFA needs your skills, just the way they are.”
“Nothing’s going to be the way it was anymore.” I was only a hero because they didn’t know what I had really done, and I was still trying to figure out why Julian had forgiven me so quickly. And if that forgiveness would last, once the effects were known. I pulled back from him, but then reached back to touch my hand to his cheek. “Well, there are some things I hope won’t change.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and I decided that it was time. If I didn’t do it now, I was going to lose my nerve altogether. I got up from the couch, strode quickly over to the table, and snatched up the glass. It was like being back in Kestrel’s cells again, only this time, I was giving myself the serum and the experiment was voluntary.
I chugged the water down in a series of gulps. Abo
ut half way through it felt like it was choking me, but it was all in my head. The water was the same, foul-tasting city water that we always had flowing from the taps in Jackertown. I set the glass down and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, breathing deep to recover from holding it while I drank.
Julian had come up behind me, and now that the glass was safely on the table, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his face in my hair. “You’re incredibly stubborn.”
“You like me that way.” I smiled and turned in his arms to peer up into his eyes, but my smile faded with the intense look on his face. Would Julian still feel the same way about me, once the effects were fully felt on everyone, including him? I could live with dead spots in my brain, but I wasn’t sure if I could live with the damage that was to come—not to me, but to others—knowing that I was responsible for it.
“I’ll like your stubbornness better when it doesn’t put you in danger all the time.” Julian held my gaze for a long moment, then closed his eyes and rested his forehead on mine.
I lifted up on my toes to kiss him, just lightly. “Some things are worth the risk, remember?” I hoped it was true, and I prayed Julian would still forgive me, once all of this was done.
“What idiot said that?” he said, but a hint of the smile was back.
“I believe that was you,” I said. “Although, now that I think about it, I think you blamed me for it.”
“That sounds about right.”
His eyes were open again, and he gave me a look that said kissing was in our near future. Which made my heart jump, but I wanted to get one thing straight first. “Whatever happens, I’m going to need you by my side. So, don’t plan on taking any vacations for awhile, okay?”
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