Spark

by Rachael Craw

  “She was safe. She had her brother. He may not be tuned into her signal but still–”

  “You didn’t know that Jamie was with Affinity!”

  “I wanted to protect you. I wanted–”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  “Damn it, Evie, I could have given you up to Affinity,” she mouths the word. “And then you’d have been right out of it, but I didn’t – I didn’t! So don’t make out Kitty means nothing to me.”

  “I should be grateful?” Disgust twists my mouth. “Grateful you let me think there was a chance while she was across town and I was at your place, twiddling my damn thumbs, waiting for a signal I would never feel?”

  She lowers her voice. “You’re only seventeen.”

  I almost hiss. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’s too soon. You’re a kid for crying out loud. Someone else might respond to her signal, you never know. Someone experienced.”

  “You’re out of your mind! You know what this feels like! I can’t walk away!”

  “That’s just the Fixation Effect.” The whisper is almost a hiss. “It would be hard, but you could do it.”

  “Can you hear yourself?”

  She grabs my shoulders. “You’ll die. Do you understand? He will kill you if you get in the way!”

  I struggle under her grasp, furious with her and the weakness in my body. “Don’t touch me!” She flinches and lets go. My ribs are on fire and black spots pop in front of my eyes. There is no decision. No choice. She knows that. “I’m not leaving and you can’t make me.”

  “The doctor is on his way.”

  I freeze. Miriam wipes her eyes and stands up. Pale and fraught, she turns to Leonard who’s stopped in the doorway, his expression so hard it alters his face. He heard us. I brace for a lash of words. They don’t come. His eyes soften with despair and weariness that age him. “Evie, Jamie explained to me that this is your first.”

  Miriam stands rigid and I blink at Leonard, feeling young and useless. He sits on the ottoman, clasping his hands in an effort to conceal their trembling. “You understand this is a blow for us.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Miriam says.

  “It’s not.” He inclines his head to me. “Forgive me. It was not my intention to imply blame. We just need to consider now what our options are.”

  “I don’t know what your options are, Leonard. But I’m taking Evie home.”

  Jamie’s “What?” and my “No!” converge as he appears through the door. I struggle up on my elbow, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Jamie stalks towards us. He’s removed his ripped shirt, leaving him in his plain white T-shirt and mud-streaked pants, his expression a mirror of Leonard’s.

  “Evie is my responsibility.” Miriam won’t be cowed. “Let’s be realistic, Jamie. You know how this works. Without an experienced agent–” Leonard rises to face her and she doesn’t finish. Instead she says, “Is it fair to put Evie through it?”

  “I am not leaving!” I try to sound forceful but the effort to hold myself up is taking it out of me.

  “Lie down.” Jamie maneuvers me back, and I clutch his arm.

  “I’m not leaving. Okay? No matter what she says.” But the fog is closing in and I have to shut my eyes and breathe through my nose.

  “It’s okay,” he says.

  “It’s not okay!” Miriam says. “There’s only one outcome here. One. And I’m sorry for it. But it doesn’t have to mean Evie’s life. She’s not ready. It’s too soon.”

  Kitty materialises with her mother at this point, having come into the room so quietly no one’s noticed. Absorbed in the argument, I don’t register the compression in my stomach that I’m beginning to associate with our bond, not until she stands right in front of me.

  “Only one outcome?” She stares around the circle, silencing us all. “So, I’m a goner?”

  “Kitty.” Miriam loses her wind. “I’m sorry. But you have to understand.”

  Barb steps between them. “How dare you?”

  “Please, Barb.” Miriam grows red in the face. “Evie has no one here but me.”

  I struggle on my back. “I don’t want you!”

  Every face turns towards me.

  Miriam looks like I’ve slapped her. “If you had caught up with that guy, he would have killed you.”

  Kitty covers her mouth, drops the blanket and runs from the room.

  “I think you should leave,” Barb says to my aunt. “Now.”

  Miriam looks back at me, her eyes glistening. “Not without my niece.”

  “I’m-not-going-anywhere-with-you!” I say through gritted teeth.

  Jamie picks up the fallen blanket and lays it over my torn dress. “Your aunt should stay.” He looks from me to his mother. “Miriam can help–”

  “You can’t trust her!” I say. “She lied!”

  “To protect you,” he says.

  “I don’t need protection!” Can’t he understand? Miriam is a liability. She’ll jeopardise everything. I would never be able to trust that she has Kitty’s best interests at heart. She’d just be fretting over me all the time and getting in the way. “This is your sister’s life!”

  “And yours, Everton. I’m not okay with Miriam’s lie but I can understand it. You can’t because of the Fixation Effect.”

  Am I the only one in my right mind? Barb alone seems to share my level of disgust. “Mrs Gallagher,” I begin, but Leonard steps in.

  “Evangeline,” he says. “If you are willing to stay, then we are grateful.”

  I nod at Leonard and glare at my aunt.

  “Miriam,” he turns to her. “Evangeline doesn’t wish to leave and I won’t make her. For the sake of moving on from our stalemate would you consider staying, even if only to watch over your niece?”

  Barb and I both open our mouths to argue, but Jamie presses my shoulder, his eyes on his mother. “Barb,” he says. “We need her.”

  Barb hands the wet cloth to her son and speaks to her husband. “I’ll be with my daughter.” She walks stiff-backed from the room, refusing to acknowledge Miriam.

  Leonard sighs and looks to my aunt. Miriam’s dark gaze moves from father to son then rests on me. “I’ll stay.”

  MORPHINE

  “I’m a geneticist, you know. Haven’t been a needle and thread man for quite some years, but needs must.” Doctor Sullivan sets out his medical kit with a quick, light touch, nodding as he speaks as though in constant agreement with his own thoughts. “I’ve made quite a bit of progress with the sample, simply fascinating stuff. I’d seen a bit of it before, working with Leonard’s brother, but it’s dreadfully difficult to get your hands on Stray DNA, the markers are very unusual.” He turns to me and nods with gusto. “You are in quite a state.”

  My skinned elbows, knees and shins are the least of my pain. I’ve cut my right shoulder and my scalp burns from the shattering glass of the kitchen window. My whole left side aches where I collided with the tree; I can barely lift that arm, and something is definitely broken – my ribs are on fire.

  “You should lie down,” Jamie says.

  “I’m not ruining any more furniture.” I can’t look at him glowering beside me; I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. I still tremble in the aftermath of being carried upstairs in his arms – agony for more than one reason.

  “We’ll put some towels down.” Doctor Sullivan swabs my arm and sticks me with the needle. “This will take the edge off. Jamie, fetch your mother. The young lady needs this dress off and a sponge bath.”

  Jamie disappears in a blur, obviously desperate to escape. I close my eyes against the slow-spinning room and lean back on the wall. “You work for Jeremy? You’re with Affinity?”

  “Ah-ah-ah,” the doctor shakes his head. “We don’t mention the A-word. Jeremy’s fiercely strict about adhering to protocol and no, I don’t. They know nothing about me.” There’s almost glee in that last bit, like a big kid breaking school rules. I want to ask mo
re but struggle to form a coherent thought.

  The doctor busies about the room, keeping up a constant flow of talk. “The real joy is having two samples to compare. Jamie was kind enough to supply me with some of his own blood. Layering the samples clarifies so very much, and then comparing it to unmodified DNA.” He chatters on as he pulls the quilt off the guest bed, folds back the sheets and spreads towels from the en suite. “I hope you will allow me a sample of your own? I shall ask your aunt also. It’s really too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  “Help yourself, seems I’ve left samples all over the house.”

  “Ha, well, indeed, never mind that, dear.”

  “How long until you have an ID?”

  “It’s an awfully long process, I’m afraid. The skin we collected from Kitty’s nails has taken me two weeks to process and it will require thorough analysis. Even then, it will only be of use to us if the assailant has a criminal record and I can match it with a sample in the database. Otherwise, it won’t tell us anything.”

  The magic of morphine may have eased my trembling, but it doesn’t keep me from feeling depressed at the doctor’s news. I focus on the tether. It comforts me more than pain relief.

  The doctor takes my arm to lead me to the bed when Jamie reappears, new worry creasing his brow. “I’m afraid Kitty’s a bit of a mess. Barb won’t leave her and Dad’s got the glazier arriving any minute. I could get Miriam?”

  “No!” The force of my response makes me wobble and both of them reach to steady me. “Not her.”

  “Take it easy.” He raises his hands. “I suppose you’re stuck with me then.”

  I scowl.

  Jamie shrugs. “Me or Miriam?”

  I glare, embarrassed, but have to concede. “Fine.”

  “Good, good.” The doctor picks up his medical case and pats my arm. “I better go and see what I can do for Kitty. I won’t be long.”

  Jamie studies me a moment, his expression impenetrable, then runs his hand up the back of his hair with a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll be right back. Don’t fall over.”

  He leaves and panic sweeps in.

  What the hell just happened?

  But something besides panic slips past the sedative dulling my senses: a thrill at the thought of Jamie’s electric touch.

  No. Don’t do that. He didn’t want you three years ago, he won’t want you now.

  But I can’t help it. Despite the fact that I shouldn’t be thinking about anything like it at all with a genetically enhanced killer on the loose and Kitty falling apart down the hall, I want my new DNA to make him notice me.

  That’s sick.

  I shuffle into the bathroom and stop short. My reflection extinguishes the thrill. I look like I’ve walked off the set of a horror movie. I should have let him fetch Miriam to save myself the shame. I turn away, shut the bathroom door and lock it, seizing the opportunity to check everything is okay post period cramps. I can’t bend without excruciating pain and the effort nearly wipes me out, but thankfully it’s all cleared up.

  Sweat beads on my lip and I lean against the cold tiles. I can’t wait to lie down. If I can only get out of my dress and under a sheet without humiliation, it will be something. I barely manage to kick my shoes into the corner when I hear Jamie return. “How is it?” he calls.

  “It’s not that bad.” I open the bathroom door, trying not to pant. Jamie stands there, holding a round plastic tub and some folded face cloths. I pretend not to notice. “Is Kitty okay?”

  “Doctor Sullivan’s trying to give her a sedative. It’s not going well.” He steps past me to the bath and opens the faucet, filling the plastic tub, dipping his fingers, testing the temperature.

  “Did she say – did she get a look at him?”

  “His face was covered.”

  “Have you asked her about the people she met at the ball?”

  “Guys who vomited and had seizures when they touched her?” He looks at me over his shoulder. “We’ve been over it. Nothing stands out.”

  “Who have the police interviewed?”

  “Mainly the waitstaff, but they’re making general inquiries of the guests.”

  “You think we could get a list?”

  He shuts off the faucet and stands up frowning. “You can’t think of it like that. Frequency sensitivity is what matters, your ability to read signals.” He sounds like Miriam, and I deflate. He sighs. “Suppose we better get you out of that then.”

  “I might be able to manage.” I turn my back, fumbling with the buttons of my dress, desperately trying to remember if I’m wearing matching underwear. When I try to pull at my sleeve even that slight movement hurts so much my head spins, I lose balance and stumble against the bathroom door.

  Jamie grabs me. “Stop being ridiculous, Everton. Let me help.”

  There is no way around it – I need help. But I can’t ignore the contrast between his golden perfection and my Halloween body reflected in the unforgiving glare of the bathroom mirror. Any scenario involving Jamie removing my clothes, as I may have imagined it in moments of weakness, looked nothing like this one.

  He keeps his expression earnest and softens his tone. “It’s just me, yeah?”

  “Which is kind of the point.” Morphine is no friend of dignity.

  His chest expands inches from mine and his brow contracts. “Come on.”

  He leads me back to the bedroom where I’m grateful for sedate lamplight. He opens the wardrobe and digs out a folded sheet, unfurling it over his shoulder. “Here’s the game plan.” Brisk and businesslike. “The dress is on its last legs.”

  I bite my lip, having lost the power of speech somewhere back in the bathroom.

  “No point arsing about.”

  He tears the dress from neck to waist, the fabric tugging around me. Air on my skin. A white flourish and Jamie swathes me with the sheet. He moves behind me and reaches through the back to slide the dress off my shoulders. Warm electric fingers. The shreds of material pool at my feet. He frees my arms, tucks the sheet tight, then slips the hair tie from my wrist and gathers the length of my hair up into a loose ponytail. I hold my breath, glad he can’t see my face.

  “Hang about.” He fetches the tub of water and places it on the nightstand. “Tip your head.” With hypnotic strokes, he wipes away the blood that has trickled from my scalp. The searing heat feels blissful on the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades. My eyes roll up and I stifle a moan.

  “I-I think I’d better lie down.”

  In an instant he has me in his arms and on the bed with only a brief stab of pain.

  I pant on the pillow. “You do this a lot?”

  The shadow of a smile touches his serious mouth. He takes my left hand and keeps his expression purposeful, cleaning away the blood and dirt from the length of my arm, shoulder, neck and collarbone, careful over the grazes and cuts. He leaves a trail of goosebumps with each pass and my heart crashes like a lunatic on padded walls.

  The combination of worry, morphine, pain and Jamie makes it hard to think. To find an anchor, I close my eyes, think about Kitty, focus on the tether and reach through the static, scanning for a threatening signal. Other than my amplified anxiety, there is nothing, but then I see flashes, vivid details of the forest, trees blurring, the weight of metal in my hand, the shock of gunfire vibrating up my arm.

  I jerk on the pillow and open my eyes. Jamie has frozen where he leans over me with the blood-soaked cloth. “You can Harvest,” he whispers.

  My head swims. “I thought it was KMT?”

  “You shouldn’t be able to do either.”

  I rest my hand against the hard swell of his bicep and bring my memory forward. I don’t even need to close my eyes, it’s all there: the moment after the gunshot, the violent impact of the tree branch, the stinging skid on mud-packed earth, the crushing weight of Jamie’s landing.

  His sharp breath draws me out of the vision and he sits back, his hand on his forehead. “And you can do both.”

/>   “I guess.”

  “You did something to the glass too.”

  I cringe. “I was going through the window one way or other.”

  “I’ve never seen that before.”

  “I can’t control it. Usually it’s glasses or light bulbs and only when I get upset.”

  His frown kills me and I can’t help myself. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I wish it wasn’t me. I mean, I wish it was someone good, you know, someone who knew what the hell they were doing, for Kitty’s sake.”

  “Evie.”

  A tear escapes and I bite inside my cheek for control. “I get that you’re disappointed. You must be devastated.”

  His frown softens and he wipes the single track of my tear with the slow graze of his knuckle. “It’s not you. It’s everything. The whole thing’s a bloody nightmare. But it’s not your fault. We don’t even know what it means – you being so far along.”

  “No one saves their first.”

  “Not that I’ve ever heard of. But you’re nothing like a first timer.”

  “Because of some stupid party trick?”

  “It’s much more than that, Everton. It’s a sign of your development.” He wads the soiled cloth on the side table and picks up a fresh one, dipping it and wringing it out. “There’s no way you should have picked up on Kitty’s guy, and you’re way faster than you should be. These are good signs.”

  “Miriam knew I could do all this stuff.”

  His expression clouds. “I suppose it’s one thing to go through it, another to watch someone you love go through it.”

  “I don’t think I can forgive her.”

  He looks up. “That’s the Fixation Effect.” He gives it the soft touch. “She knows excuses mean squat if we think someone’s a threat to our Spark. It’s a primal bond. Stronger than anything. Except Synergist Coding.” He keeps his eyes on the job and mutters, “I wonder if that’s an illegal term.”

  As he leans over the mess of my right arm, I become distracted by the strong line of his neck and the hollow just beneath the corner of his jaw. He smells so good, I can almost imagine the warmth of his skin. “Synergist what?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is you’ll have to work hard to forgive Miriam. We’ll need her help if we’re going to get you up to speed.”