AIR Series Box Set

by Amanda Booloodian

  Boone saw us watching him, and he dropped the folio and rolled the table out of sight.

  A muffled clatter could be heard in the distance and a soft alarm rang out. Steel doors started to close over the window. It was much quieter in the clinic, but I knew the rest of the building would hear a blaring alarm as the building went into lockdown.

  Vincent turned to me again. "Boone, get the doctor. Now." He started moving his hands over my arms in a panicked way, but he kept his touch extremely gentle.

  "It's not the same person." I knew what he was thinking because I was trapped in the same nightmare.

  "How can you not know if you were injected?" He didn't say it cruelly, but it stung all the same.

  "The needle went in here," I tugged up my sleeve, "but I think I kicked him away before—"

  "Does any of this hurt?" Vincent asked, pushing the skin around the injection site.

  "No." I said. "I'm okay. It's over. I'm fine."

  He didn't believe me, and I couldn't blame him. I couldn't even convince myself. Everything had moved too fast for me to know how I felt.

  I sighed and pushed away from the wall. "I'd like to sit down, though."

  I didn't have time to hate having to say the words. Vincent picked me up and dropped me unceremoniously on the bed. He frowned and started prodding my arms again.

  "A little warning might be nice," I mumbled.

  He put the back of his hand against my face and I pushed his arm away.

  "Stop," I said. "Just stop."

  He ignored me, which worked out well. I could concentrate on being mad at him instead of freaking out.

  Dr. Yelton ran in, followed by two nurses and Boone.

  "You were injected with something?" Dr. Yelton asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Yes," Vincent said at the same time.

  "Where is it, and what symptoms does she have?"

  "Over here," Boone said, drawing the doctor over.

  "Any trouble breathing?" Dr. Yelton asked from behind the curtain.

  While Boone showed Dr. Yelton the needle, the nurses were attaching the heart rate thing, the blood pressure cuff, and adjusting the bed to make me lie down again.

  "All this just came off," I said. "And he didn't inject me. The needle went in, but he couldn't do anything after that beyond clutch his groin."

  Dr. Yelton appeared at my side again. "Nurse, take this and get started. I'll join you shortly."

  Seeing the nurses rushing around ratcheted up my anxiety, but the doctor stayed calm and quick.

  "Open your mouth, wide." He inspected my mouth, ears, and nose before moving to the injection site. He checked blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, something about oxygen levels, and had the nurse take blood.

  He kept asking me questions until I started to get aggravated answering the same ones over and over. After listening to my lungs and checking my throat for a final time, he spoke to the nurse while she removed the IV. The flurry of activity in the room died down, but a lot of people remained. Many more than I had realized. Vincent spoke with another agent, and someone in gloves wheeled out the table.

  If this guy had looked like Vincent, he could look like anyone, right?

  "Where's Rider?" I asked. Vincent appeared to be the only one paying me any attention which, somehow, made me feel better.

  "He's in the hall," Vincent said, raising his voice enough for me to hear him without coming closer to me.

  I nodded. Was he watching who was coming and going? Closing my eyes, I took a meditative breath.

  When I opened them again, the doctor stood next to me drawing a shot. I stared at it, unsettled. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one who wasn't comfortable with the sight.

  "Dr. Yelton, what are you giving her?" Vincent left the agent that was still talking to him. Still, the man didn't hurry to follow Vincent or stop him.

  "This is something to help her sleep," Dr. Yelton said.

  Vincent nodded. I glared at him when he asked nothing else, and instead, talked with the agent again.

  "I don't want to sleep," I said.

  "I'm going to run a few tests," Dr. Yelton said, seeming to ignore my comment, "and see what we're dealing with. They're going to ask you a few questions, but only a few." Dr. Yelton aimed the last half of his last statement at someone nearby. "Then get some rest."

  Agent Paulson took Dr. Yelton’s place. "I wish we could wait on this," he said, pulling the chair over. "But we can't."

  "I get it." What I didn't get was why there were so many people here. I kept glancing around, anxious to keep everyone in view.

  "Walk me through what happened," Paulson said.

  Vincent moved over, intent on hearing the story. It made me feel better to have him close by.

  The story went fast, since there were no interruptions. I could tell Paulson wanted to get the details before I drifted into la la land and couldn't give him anything else.

  I didn't need to look at Vincent to feel his anger building, though it wasn't buffeting me from side to side, as it once did. Instead, it swirled through the room enough for me to sense it, but not be affected.

  "How did you know it wasn't Vincent?" Paulson asked.

  "He looked off, somehow. It was as though he didn't get things quite right when pretending to be him." It's not like I could tell him Vincent still had a piece of my soul, or I had a part of his. I'm pretty sure something like that would add to the paperwork.

  "Anything else?" Paulson asked.

  "Well, he usually doesn't go around attacking me with a needle. That was a big clue." Then I giggled at the idea and slapped a hand over my mouth, surprised the sound came out.

  "There's going to be a guard on your door," Paulson said, knowing our interview was coming to an end.

  "And Boone's?" I asked.

  "If the doctor keeps him around, there will be," Paulson assured me. "Once we clear out, there will be limited access."

  "Thank goodness," I said, feeling relieved. Then I bit my lip, realizing I had said it out loud.

  "Do you need anything before we go?"

  It crossed my mind to say a shower, but I remained lucid enough to hold my tongue. "No, I'm good."

  "Let's go," Paulson called.

  Everyone started to file out of the room, including Vincent.

  "Where are you going?" I blurted out.

  "He's going to take a look at some video footage," Paulson said.

  "Oh, yeah," I said, my thoughts swirly and light. "That doesn't work for me."

  Paulson started to answer, but closed his mouth. He looked at a complete loss for words, but Vincent's mouth twitched in amusement.

  "I'll meet you outside," Vincent said.

  Paulson hesitated, but nodded.

  Paulson left the room and I hollered after him. "And close the door." After it snapped shut I muttered, "Raised in a barn," which is exactly what Gran would have said.

  "You needed me?" Vincent said.

  "Always," I said, my tongue feeling looser than it ever had. "Come here."

  When he got to me, he started to protest when I sat up.

  "Shut up," I said.

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything, which was good. I grabbed his arm, pulled him in, and hugged him.

  Warmth spread over me and I shut my eyes and sighed. He patted me awkwardly on the back a few times, sort of returning the hug, but when I didn't let go, he relented and embraced me.

  His muscles were tense and stressed, but the longer I held on, the more relaxed he became. In the end, he was holding on to me as much as I was clinging to him.

  "That wasn't so hard, right?" I asked after a short time.

  It was his turn to sigh. "You're killing me, Cass."

  "Good. It's about time I tried to kill someone and not the other way around." Then I giggled.

  "That's not funny." Vincent pulled away, but sat down on the bed and held onto my hand, as if he never wanted to let go.

  It felt right. Exactly as it sho
uld be.

  "You're right." I smothered the laughter and I put my hand on his, content with the contact.

  As though he had just realized that he still held on, he let go and stood up. "Sorry. I shouldn't..."

  Depression welled up. "Right." Thankfully, a floaty feeling kept the emotion at bay.

  "Rider has you covered outside." Vincent said, changing the subject. "No one's getting in here without him knowing who it is."

  "Is he going to stay outside? He can come in here."

  "He's more comfortable in the hall for now."

  "Of course." I swallowed hard. This homecoming sucked. Rider should be over whatever had caused him not to talk to me, but he was still distant. Then there was Vincent. He and I were… what?

  "Cass, don't." Vincent stood there looking lost.

  "Don't what?" Then I sniffed. Wiping my face, I realized I had teared up. "No, I'm fine. It's been a long day, and the medicine and all..." It's amazing my nose didn't grow longer. I yawned, hoping to emphasize the statement.

  "Do you want someone in here with you?"

  "No." It killed me to say those words. "I'm just going to be asleep. And there's been so many people around..."

  "If you're sure," Vincent said.

  "I am. I could use my phone, though. I'd like to call Gran in the morning."

  "No one's given you your phone?"

  I laughed weakly, with no humor to hold it up. "No, but I'd like it back if I can."

  "I'll check on it." He looked troubled, but I only shrugged.

  "Can I get you anything before I go?" Vincent asked.

  "No."

  He didn't move anywhere and appeared to be thinking hard about something. I'm not sure where his thoughts had wandered, but I wanted to know. Whatever it was, he didn't share it with me.

  "Goodnight," Vincent said.

  "Night."

  Vincent quietly shut the door behind him. The room felt lonely, but at the same time, it was nice to be rid of everyone. I needed sleep, but it wasn't coming. It's hard to sleep when you're silently berating yourself. Who cries at work?

  I scrubbed my face with my hands to make sure no evidence remained, and then I sat in the quiet room, trying to get my brain to shut down.

  At some point, the medicine must have kicked in to put me to sleep, but when I woke up, I still didn't feel rested. Looking at the clock, I saw why. I'd only been asleep for a few hours.

  A noise in the hall caught my attention, and I could see the flickering shadows of feet standing in front of the door. Farther away, someone dropped something metal and it clanged on the floor.

  Why had no one left me a gun? I swung my feet off the side of the bed. The knockout drugs were still in my system, making me unsteady, but I could manage. Another crash came, louder this time, and I started to look around the room for anything I could use as a weapon, but came up with nothing.

  No phone, no gun, what was a girl to do?

  Gunshots rang out down the hall. I jumped and felt my heart begin to pound.

  Even if I had had a weapon, it wasn’t as if it would shield me from gunshots. My door quickly opened and Rider came in, snapping the door shut behind him and bolting it. He started toward me.

  "Don't," I warned him. How could I tell if it was Rider? My Rider could be somewhere bleeding out.

  Looking all business, he ignored me, and as he moved forward, I moved back against the wall. When he reached a few feet in front of me, he turned and waited.

  Another shot punched through the air and Rider backed up into me.

  "What are you doing?" I tried to push him off me, which felt like trying to move a boulder.

  "Guarding," he said.

  "Do you have to stand on top of me to do it?" I pushed again.

  "I would not stand on you." However, he took the hint and moved a few inches away.

  "At least I know you're my Rider," I muttered. "What's going on?"

  "I have only a small idea of what has occurred. The shots came from Boone's room."

  "What?" I ducked around Rider and went straight for the door.

  Rider wrapped one arm around my waist and easily picked me up.

  "What are you doing? We need to see if he's okay."

  "We will stay in the room until it is clear."

  I tried to pry his arm off me, but we might as well have been welded together.

  "Put me down," I snapped.

  "Our orders are to stay here," Rider said, seemingly unconcerned.

  "Orders from who? Vincent? Of course he's going to say that."

  "From Logan."

  That doused some of the fire that had been building. "Did he say why?"

  "Any more people would add to the confusion, and there would be two targets instead of one."

  It made sense, but I didn't have to like it. "Fine."

  Rider made no move to put me down.

  People were rushing down the hall outside.

  "There were guards on Boone's room, right? Why is he still in the clinic?"

  "Guards, yes. I do not know why."

  Rider's phone rang and he answered it, one arm still holding me in the air. "It is me."

  He listened, and I tried to pry his arm off again.

  "Yes," Rider said.

  "You can put me down, you behemoth," I snapped.

  Rider looked down at me confused. "I do not know what that is."

  I couldn't make out words from the other end of the phone, but the chuckle was clear, then whoever it was started talking again.

  "Yes," Rider said. After a longer pause, he said, "I will tell her."

  Chapter 20

  Rider didn't seem inclined to put me down while on the phone, so I reached for the Path. Once again, there was an eerily smooth transition when I closed my eyes and slid into the Path.

  "Logan has asked us to stay here," Rider said. "He said Boone is uninjured."

  "That's a relief. Did he say what's going on? Did they catch whoever is doing this?"

  "They did not catch the person responsible."

  "You can put me down now, you know," I said. The Path had me distracted. The gentle, rippling overlay of our world held no strength.

  Lying to myself was something I was fairly good at. The first time using the Path after my return showed me the same lazy flow. Since then, I'd been telling myself the Path would be back, that I would get over whatever had caused the issue.

  Now I was beginning to realize that wasn't the case.

  "Rider, you can put me down," I repeated.

  Still he didn't move.

  "Rider?" I tried to crane my neck to look back at him.

  "Logan asked us to remain here," Rider said.

  "Not remain right in this spot. He meant in the room. Put me down."

  Rider appeared to consider this. "That sounds reasonable."

  He sat me on my feet and I started to look around at the slow, glittery flow of stunted Path around me. Rider looked nervous when I walked around the room.

  "You will stay in the room, right?" Rider asked.

  "I'm not going anywhere," I said. What I didn't say was that it would be no use to go anywhere. The Path looked weaker than it had when I had first joined the agency. Could I do my job now?

  I tried to find the flows of my attacker earlier in the evening, but in my limited state, it wasn't visible. It hadn't been long ago—I should at least be able to see that Path.

  "What is wrong?" Rider asked.

  I sniffed, realizing it as I did so. "Nothing." I stopped and tried to focus my brain toward solving the problem, not dwelling in it.

  Had I used too much power and burned myself out? I'd never heard of that happening, at least not with the Reader surviving at the end.

  "Those stupid gremlins," I muttered. And that woman, Wyna. They had to be the cause of my loss of power.

  "Are the gremlins stupid?" Rider asked.

  "What? Oh, no, not really." I went to the door, but Rider appeared content on letting me wander. His Path, always
the easiest to see, was still there from when he had entered the room. He had been scared, nervous, and upset. The twisting Path of greens and browns still showed his Path switch from someone running on instinct to someone thinking things through, as though they were giving and taking from one another.

  "Why do you suggest they are dumb if they are not?" Rider asked.

  "It's nothing," I said.

  Rider nodded, looking morose. He sat down on the floor while I followed small, individual little flows of Path, trying to make them move faster or slower, shift them forward or trace them back, anything that would indicate I had some sort of ability left.

  "You will not tell me what is bothering you?" I'm not sure if Rider had meant it as a question, but it sounded like one.

  Did I want to tell anyone about my loss of power? "No," I sighed. It wasn’t like I was actively working. Maybe I could figure this out before I needed to tell anyone.

  "I have broken our friendship," Rider said. He didn't sound sad; it was more matter of fact.

  "What?" I stopped and looked at Rider. He was almost as blank faced as Vincent could get.

  The Path would wait. When I pushed it away, I wavered. How could I be tired? I hadn't done anything. That would be something to figure out later.

  "I am torn as to whether I should stay or go," Rider said.

  "What? Why would you go?" I moved over to him and sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall to hide my unsteadiness.

  "This world is wrong in so many ways," Rider said. "I have made mistakes and do not understand."

  "That doesn't mean you have to leave. And you haven't broken our friendship." I thought about that and figured now was the time for honesty. "Actually, I'm not sure where we stand. I don't know what happened."

  "Vincent said the same. I did not believe him, but I should have."

  "Tell me what happened," I said.

  "You challenged me."

  That didn't make any sense at all. "Challenged you? For what? How?"

  "Your wolf challenged mine. I could keep our friendship while I made my decision to accept the challenge, but I did not do that well."

  "I don't understand." I rubbed my head as another headache started to form. I had no idea if it had come from the conversation or my use of the Path, but either way, the timing was bad.