by L. J. Smith
A cul-de-sac. When she reached the end, she'd be caught.
She glanced behind her. He was there, running, overcoat flapping like the wings of a bird of prey. He was ungainly but very fast.
She wasn't even going to make it to the end of the cul-de-sac.
If she ran to a house, he'd grab her as she stood on the porch. If she slowed, he'd tackle her from behind. If she tried to double back, he'd cut her off.
The only thing she could think of to do was stand and fight.
Once again, the feeling of clear coldness swept over her. Right, then. She pulled up short, staggering a little, and whirled. She was standing in the widest part of the cul-de-sac, surrounded by parked cars.
He saw her and stumbled, slowing down, hesitating. Then, at a shambling half-run, he started toward her again. Kaitlyn stood her ground.
She was glad she hadn't dropped her duffel bag. Maybe she could use it as a weapon. Or maybe there was something in it to use. . . .
No, everything was too soft. Except the pencils, but they were in her art kit. She'd never get them out in time.
Then I'll use my fingers to stab his eyes out, she thought savagely. And my knees and my feet and fists.
Adrenaline was singing in her veins; she was almost glad of the chance to fight. The things she sensed inside him made her want to rip him to pieces. He'd killed, he was a killer.
"Come on, you creep," she said, and realized she was saying it out loud.
He came. He was grinning, a crazy-happy grin. His eyes were crazy, too. Kaitlyn tensed her muscles and then he was on her.
CHAPTER 4
Gabriel was blocking the world out, but the scream came through.
He was pacing in front of the Institute, loitering. He'd been out all night, and didn't particularly want to go in. Not that anyone inside now would bother him-but he still had an impulse to avoid the place. He'd screwed up; he hadn't gotten the crystal shard. And tonight he'd have to explain to him.
Zetes. Gabriel felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. He understood now why Marisol had been so afraid of the old man. He had a sort of malevolent power about him, a power that was best observed in day-to-day living. He seemed to drain the will out of everyone around him. Not suddenly, the way Gabriel drained life energy, but slowly. People around him began to feel nervous and exhausted-and dazed. Like birds looking into the eyes of a snake.
A quiet form of terrorization.
Gabriel didn't intend to be terrorized. But now that he'd chosen his path, he needed Zetes. The old man had the structure, the organization, the contacts. Gabriel planned to use all those things on his journey to the top.
He was debating going in when the scream sliced through his consciousness. It wasn't a vocal sound, purely mental. It was composed of hate and anger as well as fear. And it was Kaitlyn.
Close. North and west of him, he thought. He was moving before he thought anything else.
And he probably couldn't have explained why if anyone had asked him.
He moved with the smooth long steps of a hunting wolf. The scream came again-the sound of someone fighting for her life. Gabriel moved faster, homing in on it.
Ivy Street. It was coming from down there-and now he could see it, in the streetlights at the end of the cul-de-sac. He couldn't hear anything except mentally; Kaitlyn never did scream out loud when she was in trouble.
Gabriel reached the grappling figures at a dead run. A red-haired man was on top of Kaitlyn, and she was biting, kicking, and clawing. The man was considerably damaged but sure to win in the end. He was heavier and stronger; he could outlast her.
Deja vu, Gabriel thought. Once in back of the Institute he'd found another man attacking Kaitlyn-a man who'd turned out to be from the Fellowship. This one, Gabriel thought, eyeing the unwashed hair and unsavory appearance of Kaitlyn's attacker, was unlikely to be anything but a bum.
He could just leave things as they were. The old man would be happy to hear Kaitlyn was dead, and it would mean one less person keeping the shard from them. But. . .
All these thoughts flashed through Gabriel's mind in seconds. Before he'd even consciously come to a conclusion, he was reaching for the man.
He tangled a hand in the back of the dirty overcoat and pulled, yanking the man up. Kaitlyn rolled out from under, and he could hear the surprise in her mind. Gabriel!
So she hadn't seen him. Well, she'd been busy trying to stay alive. The man in the overcoat was reacting now, pulling away. He saw Gabriel and threw a punch.
Gabriel ducked around it. He jerked his arm and the knife in his sleeve snicked out. His hand closed around it, feeling the welcome weight, the smoothness of the handle.
The man's eyes got big.
Just like Wolverine, Gabriel thought, cutting the knife in front of him in a practice move. The red-haired man's eyes followed it. He was scared; Gabriel could already taste the flavor of his fear.
But don't worry about the knife, he thought, knowing the man couldn't hear him. That's just a distraction, to keep you watching . . . while I do this. . . .
Gabriel's other hand rose almost gracefully, gracefully and stealthily, and touched the man on the back of the spine. Just above the soiled collar of the overcoat, just at the nape of the neck.
His fingers made contact with skin, found the transfer point. He could find it easier with his mouth, but he wasn't going any nearer this filthy derelict than he had to. There was a feeling of breakage, as if something was tearing loose. The red-haired man stiffened violently, his muscles jerking. Then Gabriel felt it-the rush of energy, like blue-white light streaking up from the transfer point, fountaining into the air.
Into Gabriel's fingers, filling channels and rushing through them, warming his entire body.
Ahhhhh.
It was something like a cold drink on a hot day-a cold drink in a tall glass, with ice cubes clinking against the inside and drops of water condensing on the outside. And it was something like getting your second wind when running-a sudden feeling of strength and peace and vigor. And it was something like standing on the bow of a catamaran with the wind in your face. It wasn't much like any of those things, but they were as close as Gabriel could get to the feelings of refreshment and vitality and excitement.
Drinking pure life, that was what it was. And even from a filthy derelict, it tasted pretty good. This guy had been more alive, in his creepy, slimy way, than most. Gabriel let go of him, then pushed the knife back into its casing.
The red-haired man gave a shudder and collapsed, falling as if he'd been deboned. On the ground, he twitched once and was still. He smelled bad.
Kaitlyn, breathing hard, was getting to her feet.
"Is he dead?" she asked.
"No, he's got a gasp or two left. But he's not at all well."
"You enjoyed that." Her eyebrows were arched in scorn and her smoky blue eyes flashed. Wispy red curls clung to her forehead; the rest of her hair was loose in a glorious flame-colored waterfall. She looked flushed and windblown and very beautiful.
Gabriel looked away angrily. He wouldn't think about her, he wouldn't see how beautiful she was, how fair her skin was or the way her breathing moved her chest. She belonged to someone else, and she meant nothing to him.
He said, looking at the huddled figure on the ground, "You were doing a pretty good job on him yourself."
Kaitlyn shivered, then controlled it. Her voice was softer when she answered. "I could see he was full of nasty things. His mind was . . ." She shivered again.
"You could see into his mind?" Gabriel asked sharply.
"Not exactly. I could sense it somehow-sort of like a feeling or a smell. I couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking." She looked up at Gabriel, hesitated, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't say thank you.
But I am glad you showed up. If you hadn't. . ." Her voice trailed off again.
He ignored this last. "Maybe being in the web has made you slightly telepathic for other people-or maybe that guy was slightly tel
epathic." He touched the overcoat with the toe of his running shoe. Then he looked at Kait. "Where are the others?"
Kaitlyn drew herself up, looked back calmly. "What others?"
"You know what others." Gabriel stretched out his senses, listening for the slightest hint of their presence.
Nothing. He narrowed his eyes at Kaitlyn. "They've got to be around somewhere. You wouldn't come out here alone."
"Wouldn't I? I am alone. I came on the bus; it was easy. Aren't you going to ask why?"
Behind her, the sky was green and palest pink, shading to ultramarine in the west. The last stars were going out, the first light was touching her hair with red-gold. She stood slim and proud as some medieval witch princess against the dawn. Gabriel had to work to keep his face expressionless, to keep his presence in the web icy. "All right," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean, she's gone?" Rob demanded.
"She's gone," Anna repeated miserably. "I woke up and looked and there she wasn't. She isn't here."
Lewis rolled over in his sleeping bag, squinting and scratching. "Did you check in the, uh . . ."
"Of course I've checked in the bathroom. I've looked everywhere, and she's just not anywhere. Her bag is gone, too, Rob."
"What?" It came out a yell. Anna clapped a hand over his mouth, and Rob stared at her over it.
If her bag's gone, she's gone, he said telepathically after a moment.
That's what I've been telling you, Anna replied. Her beautiful dark eyes were wide but calm. Anna always could keep her head in a crisis-and Rob was close to losing his. Ever since last night his emotions had been in a turmoil.
With an effort he collected himself. No, I mean that she's gone for a while-and probably of her own free will. Somebody kidnapping her wouldn't have taken the bag.
"But-why would she leave?" Lewis asked, sitting up. "I mean, she wouldn't leave, but if she did leave-well, why?"
Rob looked past the dark, heavy shapes of the living room furniture to the window. It was just dawn.
"I think .. . she's maybe gone to the Institute."
The other two stared at him.
"No," Anna said.
Rob lifted his shoulders, lip caught between his
lower teeth. He was still looking out the window. "I think yes."
"But why?" Lewis said. Rob barely heard him. He was looking at the sky, translucently blue, like glass.
Kait was out there somewhere. ...
"Rob!" Lewis was shaking him. "Why would she have gone to the Institute?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Rob said, coming back to earth. "But she might have an idea she can influence Gabriel -or maybe she wants to try something on Mr. Zetes."
Anna and Lewis audibly let air out of their lungs. "I thought-I mean I thought you were saying . . ."
Rob blinked at him, bewildered.
"He thought you were saying that Kait defected like Gabriel," Anna said crisply. "I knew she didn't, but I thought maybe you thought she did.''
"Of course she wouldn't do that," Rob said, shocked. It was hard for him to understand other people sometimes-they seemed so quick to think the worst about each other, even their friends. He knew better; Kaitlyn wasn't capable of anything evil.
"But she must have gone in the middle of the night," Lewis was saying. "You think she took the car?"
"The car's out front. I looked before I woke you up," Anna said. "I don't know how she could make it."
"She'd find a way," Rob said briefly. Kaitlyn was silk and fire-over a steel-hard core of determination.
"No, she'll get there, if that's where she's going. The question is, what do we do about it?"
"What can we do?" Lewis said.
There were sounds of stirring in the back of the house. Marisol's parents. Rob glanced that way, then back out the window.
"We'll have to get to her somehow. Find her and get her out of there."
"Get her out," Anna said quietly. It wasn't a question, it was a confirmation.
"We have to," Rob said. "I don't know what she has in mind, but it's not going to work. Not in that house of lunatics. They're dangerous. They'll kill her."
"I came to see you," Kaitlyn said, and moved closer to him.
She could tell he wasn't buying it.
"It's true. Look at me, feel my thoughts. I came here to see you, Gabriel."
She was taking a chance. But she had come to see him, that much was true, and after he'd just saved her life she was genuinely glad to see him. He could sense that much safely. And she was betting he wouldn't search below the surface, because that would mean getting close, letting her sense him. She had the strong feeling he didn't want that.
He was looking at her hard, his gray eyes narrowed against the light. Beautiful north light, slanting around them, making the modest houses look enchanted, making even Gabriel look golden and warm. She could only guess how it made her look.
Gabriel dropped his eyes. His psychic senses had brushed her mind as lightly as a moth's wing. "So you came to see me," he said.
"I've missed you," Kaitlyn said, and that was also true. She'd missed his razor wit and the mocking humor that glinted behind his eyes and his strength in the web. "I want to join you."
It was such a whopping huge lie that she expected to feel the alarms going off in his head. But he'd withdrawn his mental probing and veiled himself. He wouldn't even look at her properly.
"Don't be stupid," Gabriel said, in a voice suddenly gone weak.
Kaitlyn saw her advantage and pounced. "I did. I decided last night. I don't like Mr. Z, but I think some of the things he says are true. We have infinite possibilities-we just need room. Freedom. And we are superior to other people."
Gabriel seemed to have gathered himself. "You don't go in for that stuff."
"Why shouldn't I? I'm tired of running. I want to be with you, and I want power. What's wrong with that?"
His mouth had gone hard. "Nothing's wrong-only you don't believe it."
"Test me." Kaitlyn's heart was pounding with the risk. "Gabriel, I didn't know what we had together until you left. I care about you." This was it, the time to see whether she was true Hollywood material. She stepped even closer to Gabriel, almost touching him. "Believe me."
If he wanted, he could reach into her mind and rip the truth out. Her thin shields wouldn't hold against him.
But he didn't try to probe her brain. He kissed her instead.
Kaitlyn surrendered to the kiss deliberately-she knew she had to, and she felt a flash of triumph.
Small-town girl makes good. A star is born!
Then the triumph was swept away by something much stronger and deeper. Something fierce and joyous-and pure. They were clinging together, he was holding her as hard as she was holding him.
Electricity seemed to arc between them. Everywhere they touched Kaitlyn could feel the sparks. His hand tangled in her hair, and she was frighteningly moved by the tiny tugs, the little pain it caused as his fingers worked. His lips brushed against hers again and again.
An ache was starting inside Kaitlyn. They were together, together, so close, and she wanted to be closer.
A trembling thrill raced through her-and then a flash of light. His fingers were on the nape of her neck.
A flash of light-it was beginning. The sparks becoming a blue-white torrent. In a moment the transfer point would open, and her energy would flood into him.
The ultimate sharing-but she couldn't. Their minds would be open to each other. She would have no shields-he would see everything.
Kaitlyn tried to pull away ... but it didn't work. He was holding her and she couldn't seem to let go of him. She didn't have the will-and in a moment he would see-A garage door roared to life.
Kaitlyn jumped and was saved. Gabriel lifted his head, looking at a house near them. Kaitlyn took the moment to step away.
The world was coming to life around them. It wasn't dawn but daylight. The door to another house was opening; a cat was runn
ing up a walkway. No one had noticed the tall boy standing in the street kissing a girl, or the crumpled figure at their feet.
"But they'll see us in a minute," Kaitlyn whispered. "Let's go."
They walked quickly. At the intersection, Kaitlyn looked at him. "Which way to the Institute?"
"You really want to go there?" He looked doubtful, but not contemptuous as before. She'd convinced him.
"I want to be with you."
Gabriel was confused. Confused and vulnerable- there was something fragile in his eyes. "But-I hurt you."
"You didn't want to." Kaitlyn was sure of that suddenly. She'd thought so before, but now she was sure.
"I don't know," he said shortly. "I don't know anything anymore."
"I know. Forget about it." She could tell he was still bewildered, but she figured that was probably good.
The more off" balance, the less he'd be likely to analyze her. She was still dizzy and bewildered herself from that kiss.
Oh, God, what am I getting myself into?
She decided to think about it later.
"Is Joyce still running things?" Joyce Piper was the woman who'd recruited them both last winter- who'd made the Institute seem like a legitimate place. Even now Kaitlyn had a hard time believing she was as bad as Mr. Z.
"If you can call it running things. She's supposed to be in charge, but-well, you'll see."
Kaitlyn felt a surge of victory, suppressed it. He wasn't arguing anymore. He was assuming she'd come, and that they'd let her in.
I'm going to do it, she thought. She suddenly realized that it was wonderful good luck that she was arriving with Gabriel. He was going to help her immeasurably.
As they neared the Institute she thought, stand tall, walk tall. She held her head up. The first time she'd come here she'd been overwhelmed by anxiety. Worry
about her new roommates-would they like her, would they accept her? Now she had much more serious things to worry about, but she had a purpose. She knew she looked cool and confident, almost regal.