The Infected [Books 1-6]

by P. S. Power

  Tobin had already picked that up. Well, that or the woman had secrets that she didn't want a telepath to know about.

  "We should be nearly there." Her voice was already strained, but that was probably more about him being with her than seeing her parents, unless they were pretty bad. That was possible, but her words about them had sounded about right, rather than like a sales pitch.

  She was, however, correct about how long it was going to take. They pulled into a gated compound, the iron thing in front rolling to the side instantly, without anyone checking to see who was actually in the car. That was a mistake. If they were rich enough to need a gate, they needed more security than that. Guards at least. He didn't see any out the side window, but kept an eye out. They still had to cover a nice bit of ground to get back to the house and while the area was landscaped it was mainly lawn, which meant they might feel that having people at the house would be enough.

  It probably was, really. They could see anyone that came from the front coming from a nice way off.

  When they got to the front of the place, which was huge and incredible, he let himself out, taking a bit to figure out how the handle worked. The driver got out, showing that he was an old man, if one with good posture, to help Christian get out of the vehicle too, on the other side.

  "Thank you, Madsen." The words carried, since there was almost no other sound, but she still murmured them, which was probably about being polite. He didn't say anything, since it would have meant shouting to the man. This didn't seem like the kind of place to suddenly start doing that. Not when Tobin wanted to make a good impression. He managed to nod however, when the man looked over, getting one in return.

  Then they were left, the car being driven off after a bit. He was just standing, waiting for Chris to do something. She waited for him. If they kept it up long enough, his grandparents would go to bed and they wouldn't have to have awkward conversations, or try to force themselves not to think of frogs when he came in.

  "Shall we? I said we'd be in by nine."

  That meant actually walking to the door, and probably even entering, at least in polite circles that had that much money lying around. They'd expect prompt and courteous service, if nothing else. So he did it, not dragging his feet. That wouldn't really help at all, would it? At the door, a vast thing that was in two parts, made of solid looking white wood, Tobin wanted to stop.

  Possibly even run away, so he wouldn't throw up on their nice stoop.

  The two massive slabs of finely carved wood parted, showing a well dressed fellow that seemed to be in his early forties, but had a little gray in his hair. He was also wearing gray gloves, and a nicer outfit than Tobin was. That wasn't hard, since formal wear for kids was difficult to find, and he wasn't buying out of the adult section anytime soon. Probably never, to tell the truth.

  "Miss Poures. Mr. Peterson." The man didn't bow, but he was so formal it nearly felt like he had. "If you would follow me?"

  He held the door for them and let them walk past, then shut them in tightly. The door clicked when that happened. It was a normal sound, probably, but Tobin suddenly felt like he was walking into a trap. There was no way that these people really wanted to meet him, in particular, was there? That meant the whole thing was probably something else.

  The thing there, was that Tobin simply had no context for the situation. What would they want of him? The first thing that crossed his mind was that they might want him to go away. That actually seemed like a good plan. It was one thing for them to have a pretty telepath for a daughter whose biggest sin was being a little reclusive. It was a whole different game once they threw someone like him into the mix. Thinking that... Actually made him feel a little better. If they just wanted that, he could go. Really, they shouldn't have had him over at all, in that case. Just sent someone around to tell him not to make any claims that they'd need to deny in the press.

  This way left witnesses. They wouldn't try to kill him at least. Everyone knew you didn't invite a person to dinner if you were going to do that. It almost assured getting caught.

  The man, who hadn't been introduced at all, walked ahead of them, and Chris reached over to pat his arm gently. It was reassuring.

  "Don't worry, they almost never attack without warning." There was a bit of strain to her eyes however. That was most likely her mode coming into play. In that way there were a lot alike really. She did better when dealing with people though.

  "Okay."

  The room they were taken into was meant to impress, he thought, having a table that looked vast and pretty, in a room that was so ornate he couldn't really focus on it. Instead his gaze went to the man and woman sitting there already. They looked like...

  People.

  Nicely dressed ones. The man in a nice charcoal colored suit with a white shirt, and the woman was in a turquoise dress, her blonde hair not showing any gray at all. She was a few pounds heavier than her daughter, but they shared a lot of features in common. Except that the older woman had a far more Roman nose than Chris did. So did the man. That probably had to mean that someone had gotten a nose job.

  "Mother, father, this is Tobin Peterson. Your grandson." Christian put her hand on his back, and then waited a bit.

  "Tobin, these are Lenore and Richard Poures."

  "Hello. Nice to meet you both." That didn't sound like enough, so he tried to find something else to say. "You have a lovely home."

  That, he realized was about the end of his polite conversation skills with strangers. The older man and woman both sat, looking over at him and smiling nervously. Neither one spoke for a long time, which Tobin was fine with, and Chris, for all that she both knew these two and could read their minds, just smiled back, seeming a bit awkward herself.

  So these really were his family. He could see the resemblance now, if only in how they handled social situations.

  That thought got a chuckle from Christian, and some movement, as she crossed the room, gesturing for Tobin to follow her. From the perspective of the door on the far end of the room, they got the left side of the table. It seemed like a waste of space to him, but they had it, so he didn't mention it to anyone. For one thing that would require talking, which no one else was doing yet either. When they sat he helped Chris with her chair, hoping that was polite. It fit the scene, but he didn't know the real rules. No one said anything however, so if it was rude, they were being nice to him about it.

  Richard cleared his throat. Several times.

  "Sorry, it's not every day you meet a grandchild. I was just telling Lenore that a bit ago." He let the sentence trail off, but Tobin nodded, making eye contact if briefly.

  Then he sighed.

  "Or the other way around. I'm afraid I don't really know anything about you. This, the whole thing, is very new to me."

  That got Lenore to smile at him, her face older, but still very well made up. Her hair was perfect too.

  "We know a lot about you however. We hired an investigator to look into you, just so we wouldn't be taken by surprise. You'll be happy to hear that the record shows remarkably few bodies trailing behind you. No major convictions either." There was a slightly pleased and teasing tone to her words.

  "Mother!" There was outrage in that voice, but the man smiled.

  "Oh, well, what were we supposed to do? You already have not one, but six tests showing that Tobin is yours, and if there was a problem in his past, we'd have to simply deal with it. Not knowing wouldn't help us, would it?"

  Tobin thought about it for a second and then shook his head.

  "Not really." Then he went on and hoped that they'd get the general idea. "There are some bodies. Two of them that I killed in the line of duty. Both legally, but I still did it and it isn't a thing that I like to think about. Other than that... Well, my first mode... Do you know what that is?" The term wasn't used by most people. There just weren't that many Infected in the world, and fewer that people knew about. Those that could, hid.

  Richard nodded.

>   "We both have a good base of knowledge in that area. One of our daughters is Infected, you know."

  He looked at him somberly enough that Tobin wondered if he felt insulted.

  "Mine is a kind of social anxiety. It's hard... Well, things like this are hard. I sort of want to run away right now. That could just be the situation, but it's a pretty normal thing for me." He didn't feel like throwing up yet, so it was better than a lot of things.

  There was a rustle at the door and two men came in with a cart that was covered with a white cloth. It had silver domed platters on the top. They were each served by the men, and Tobin was given far too much food, but he didn't comment on that. After all, how were they supposed to know?

  As they ate, the grilling continued. It was a light one, really, because they didn't yell at him or claim he was a liar, trying to get their money. They still wanted to know everything about him however. That was nearly as bad.

  Lenore did most of it, since she didn't eat much either.

  "So, Tobin, are you seeing anyone?"

  It took an act of will to look up at her, and another to smile.

  "Kerry Yoder. She's on Team Two." He was about to explain more when Richard lit up a bit.

  "Oh? The young lady from the cooking show? You remember dear, we watched when they had Chrissy on it. The girl that kept making the whipped cream explode all over that fellow." The man seemed pleased to have remembered that, nodded, to encourage his wife.

  "The one that looks like a troll doll?"

  The words got a glare from her own daughter, but after a few seconds, Tobin nodded.

  "That's the one. She's really nice. Plus, I look like this." He gestured down his own body. "So it works pretty well."

  The slightly catty statement wasn't taken back, but the woman did make a wry expression that got cast his way. "I guess I can see that. Is it a problem for you? Looking so..."

  Christian was turning about fifteen shades of red, and Tobin was almost certain it wasn't embarrassment for her poor befuddled mom. Before she could whip out her bad martial arts skills, which he actually thought she might really have, Tobin grinned.

  "Constantly. If you can avoid being Infected, do it. If you ever become Infected, hope that you're normal looking and that you can learn to control your first mode. Like Nikki." He turned to Christian, and tilted his head questioningly. He was just throwing out silly things, but she nodded slowly, understanding that he was asking if he had the name right.

  The surprise came from the other side of the table.

  "You... know? How?" This came from his grandfather, who seemed to be a bit taken aback by it all.

  "What?" Chris half stood, and then settled as there were shocked glances from the other two.

  Tobin shrugged a bit, his suit jacket trying to ride up a little in the back, which wasn't very comfortable. He really preferred sweats.

  "The moment she heard her sister was Infected and could read minds, she broke off all contact. That could mean other things, like she was secretly a serial killer, or enjoyed unsavory sports with animals. Even if she were a bigot though, which is the other most likely case, she probably would have gotten in touch occasionally, if only to rub in how perfect she was, and all that. Just breaking contact is a sign. It was mainly a guess." He would have contacted Chris if she were his sister at least. "Can she pass?"

  That got a slow nod, but Lenore did make a face which told him there was more to it than that. She didn't just blurt it out either, taking a bite to buy time, as if it weren't obvious what she was doing. It made him smile a little. He did things like that all the time himself.

  "She's rather like you Tobin. Oh, normal enough looking, but severely shy. Her ability isn't impressive either. Not helpful to her, or all that strong. She causes people to feel friendlier toward her. Not enough to prevent being attacked, so she tries to live a very bland and regular life. She's worked very hard to make herself invisible to the press, living in a modest home and having most of her food and other things delivered. It would be good if it wasn't mentioned to anyone." She seemed worried, but that, he knew, was probably just because she didn't know him at all.

  "Yeah. Well, I won't say anything, and neither will Chrissy." He had to look away, and bite his lips. "Do you really call her Chrissy? That's so..." He didn't know what it was, but it was a lot cuter than he normally thought of her as being. The unicorns and posters of horses kind. Like a small child. This was probably when it had come about. These people had just known her that long.

  They took the words as him changing the subject, which was good enough. He had to tell them about his music career, as it was so far, and about his work at the base and with the riot squad, which, he informed them, he might be off of now. That or they'd have to add a few people.

  "I was the Team Two rep, along with Clark. We cheated and put in Doug Tibs from Team One, claiming that Clark was the backup, but now we have no one from that team and it's required by law."

  As if discussing any old work place, a thing that his new grandfather was familiar with the man probed there.

  "Clark?"

  Christian took over, looking annoyed. Things were probably wearing on her. That or the others were busy thinking bad things about them. One or the other.

  "Yes. Clark Clarkson. He's a class four telekinetic. Meaning he can move objects with his mind at a distance. Powerful, but he also slept with Bridget Chambers. It's complicated, but she was twelve when it started and that meant he was a convict, held in isolation most of the time. That didn't help his mind at all, and when he was released the man reoffended. Believing, correctly by the way, that some of the others were going to kill him rather than allowing his release, Bridget Chambers recently helped him escape. Since she's highly powerful we couldn't punish her for the action. On top of the fact that she was correct and probably saved the man's life. So that's being taken care of by Tobin. He's very trusted at the base."

  It was more than he'd been planning to say on it by far, but they were her parents and seemed to appreciate being filled in.

  The elder man nodded.

  "I see and Tibs?" He looked at Tobin, being inclusive it seemed.

  "He's nice. A friend of Proxy's from before they were Infected. He's a class four as well... Only..." He looked at Chris, who didn't say anything at all. Or try to stop him. "Only it's really clear he isn't. He's really powerful. He can control gravity. But he doesn't feel anger, annoyance or jealousy. So in a fight he's probably going to be pretty useless. It makes him good with people."

  There was a nod, and a subject change, while they waited for the dessert to come, the new topic was more about him. He was running out of things to say though. At least they only asked about Proxy, which got both he and Chris to say he was a good guy. That seemed to shock the other two for some reason.

  Lenore didn't seem to believe them at all.

  "That killer? Hardly a day passes when you don't hear about him having added to the death toll. You say he's nice?"

  Her daughter rolled her eyes and gave a strained look that actually would have been more at home in a bathroom.

  "Yes. Except for the fact that he and one of the worst enemies of the IPB are playing a game of chess with the future of the world. He's a very good person to know. Right now he seems to be trying to stop a massive war that will end in tens of millions of deaths. It's hard to say who's winning, but it's clear that the other player, Braid, a woman named Devorah Timberland-Moore, is responsible for the current situation with Tobin and myself. She largely defies real description, but basically she knows the future perfectly, as well as so many outcomes it's impossible to track. That's her goal in all this, to make one single future impossible to avoid. It's a kind of madness really."

  Tobin had kind of thought that that information was secret, but these people were family, so maybe they deserved to know? He didn't have good rules for that yet. Or maybe it would give the businessman some kind of insight? A way to keep his fortune while the world tried
to collapse in on them?

  They ate for a while in silence, and then were led to another room, where they all sat to talk. Richard moved to a table on the other side of the space, across the soft white carpet, and brought back a leather briefcase that he opened on the low coffee table between them.

  It was done with a bit of ceremony, and the man seemed to be weighing something in his mind, digging a bit deeper into the thing to pull out a plain manila folder from the bottom. It took a bit and Christian smiled at what he was doing, but didn't let Tobin in on the secret.

  If they were smart it would be some kind of legal document for him to sign saying that he'd never mention being related to them at all. Especially now that he knew about his Aunt. People had to suspect her already, if she was that shy, and related to Chris. Adding him to the mix would be about the same as putting up a sign in her yard.

  Richard leaned over and handed him both a pen, and the whole folder. It was a nice pen, and seemed to be made from gold. The real thing too, by the weight.

  "This document will give you access to fifty million dollars. When you reach the age of twenty-one your trust fund will be delivered to you wholesale, which is valued at just under a half billion dollars right now. All you need to do is to sign in a few places and we can set that up tonight. I hear you have to leave in the morning?"