by Theresa Kay
His lip sticks out in a pout. “Yeah. You only get one. As cool as mine is, I kinda wish I was a dream maker. Never met one, but wouldn’t that be awesome? I hadn’t even met any pushers until you.”
My head is spinning. I’m sure Ethan’s information is accurate. He did get it straight from the source, and I’m assuming his mother knew her stuff. But what he just said doesn’t seem to apply to me. I can do at least… four different things that no human can do. Is that why Vitrad’s after me and Jace? Because we’re some sort of super-powered version of all their best—or maybe worst—abilities?
Then another thought hits me like a splash of ice cold water: Why the hell hasn’t Jastren told me any of this?
A cold doubt slithers through me.
Something Ethan said about pushing has been bugging me, something about how I can make people do what I want with it. But didn’t Jastren specifically say that wasn’t possible? The questions swirling through my head start painting a very unflattering picture of my grandfather—and his motives. It’s one thing to omit information, something else entirely to openly lie. What reason would he have to lie about that ability in particular? Unless…
Unless that’s his ability. And he’s using it on Jace.
My brother’s odd behavior suddenly makes perfect sense. His mood swings. His snappish attitude. His pushing Flint away. And Jastren has been influencing Jace gradually, letting things build, so he can… so he can what? A stark, cold terror twists my stomach. So he can get Jace alone.
My only thought is to reach for the connection with my brother. It’s easy to locate the thread, even at this distance, but it’s not as easy to follow. I skim along every loop and twist and knot until I run up against something that blocks any further progress. I know he’s there, just out of my reach, but no matter how I attack the obstacle, I can’t get through. What kind of idiot am I?
I use my mind to pound against it, refusing to give up. Jace! A hit to the barrier. Jace! And another. Jace!
What? His irritation is clear, but all I feel is relief that I was able to reach him.
You have to get out of there. He’s been lying, manipulating you. My voice is frantic and slowly rising in volume.
What in the world are you talking about? Calm down. He sends a warm wave of reassurance through the connection. Now explain.
Jastren lied when he said they couldn’t manipulate emotions.
Jace’s next words come tinged with guilt and apology. Yeah, he lied to you.
If I weren’t already sitting, my knees would have gone out. Jace knew? Not only that, he lied to me about it? That can’t possibly be what he means.
His sigh echoes through the connection. You have the whole panic attack issue and… We didn’t think you could handle it.
My anger flares. And you could? You nearly killed Flint yesterday. You weren’t in there anymore. I know. I felt it.
You don’t know anything about it. He scoffs. I’ve dealt with this part of me much longer than you have. I know how to control it. His tone grows so cold it’s as if frost forms on the connection. And there’s the issue with your little alien boyfriend. You know, the one who tricked you and used you? The one who nearly got us both killed? The one who wants to wipe out the human race?
No! Lir doesn’t—
The laugh that reverberates in my mind sounds nothing like the Jace I know. It’s harsh and hard and laced with hate. It’s wrong. Still defending it I see. This is why I can’t talk to you about this right now. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got things under control here. Just do what you gotta do in Bridgelake and we’ll discuss this when you get back. Bye sis.
He doesn’t simply close the connection, he shoves me out of his mind so that I slam back into my own, my head actually flying back and cracking against the window of the truck.
“What the hell just happened?” Flint’s forehead creases in concern.
I can’t find the words. Instead I sit there with my hand over my mouth and my eyes watering from the throbbing in the back of my head.
Flint leans in front of me and raises his eyebrows.
“Her brother is angry with her,” says Ethan. Just great, now he’s a pint-sized spy.
Flint snorts. “Nothing new then.”
But there is something new. The Jace I just spoke to stopped sounding like my brother halfway through the conversation. That false confidence he tried to pass off was too much like Jastren’s attitude. What I saw in Jace’s thoughts, that darkness slowly encroaching on his mind—is it like mine, a product of my misdeeds and tragedy? Or could it be Jastren’s influence?
No. My brother is not so easily swayed, and though I don’t like it, his reasoning for not telling me about the abilities is understandable. He’s just in a pissy mood, something that’s not uncommon lately, especially when the subject of Lir comes up. At least he won’t be able to complain that I don’t listen. I’m going to take care of things in Bridgelake and then I’m getting back to Peter’s as quickly as possible.
THE FLAMES OF JAX’S anger lick at the edges of my dreams. After a restless night, I wake with her name on my lips. I am not entirely sure how it is possible, and it is not the type of emotion I crave, but the subtle connection that still exists between us warms me.
Although my mind is slightly muddled with sleep and the desire to go back to my dreams, my body is feeling better. I certainly have far fewer aches and pains than I did last night. The rest—and the attention of a member of the medical team whom Rym secreted in to see me—has done wonders. Not as thorough a job as the bond could have done were it still in place, but effective all the same.
My stomach rumbles as I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rise to my feet. It appears that food is my first goal for the day. And then taking the city back from my uncle. And preventing a war. Nothing too difficult.
I rub my forehead with two fingers. It will be the most difficult thing I have ever done.
I wander into the main living area to find Rym fast asleep on the couch. His frame is a bit too tall for that particular piece of furniture and his feet hang off the end. We have had little time to fully discuss any actual plan and he already looks exhausted. Though he was not looking himself when he came to release me from the research facility yesterday either.
I scratch absently at my arm and wince when my fingers pull on the skin around my kitu. Nothing quite like the blazing fire of a kiun to make one want to rip the damn thing off. Obviously I did not succeed, and I am stuck with the now useless hunk of metal attached to my arm. It is not painful exactly—at least it will not be once the wounds surrounding it have healed—but it is a reminder of all that I have lost.
Rym’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Trying for three wishes?” His eyes are open and he has turned onto his back with his hands clasped together underneath his head.
“Pardon?”
“You know, rub the magic lamp”—he motions to the hand I have wrapped around my kitu—“and a genie pops out? Gives you three wishes?” At my blank stare, he laughs. “Why am I the only one around here with an appreciation for human culture?” He maneuvers to his feet, still shaking his head. “Hungry?”
He does not wait for my answer, simply heads to the kitchen and begins pulling together a simple meal. A few minutes later, he brings it out to the table.
We sit across from each other and eat in silence. Once both of our meals have been consumed, we return to the living area, Rym lounging on the couch and me sitting in the chair to the left of it. And the quiet is back.
It is awkward to say the least. My mind is still recovering from Vitrad’s ministrations and Rym has no idea how to relate to me without the link. Yet we are stuck together, and one of us will have to get this conversation moving if we are to have any hope of finding a solution to our many current problems.
“So…” Rym starts, lifting his eyebrows as his voice trails off. Then he just sits there and looks at me. After approximately a minute passes with us only staring at ea
ch other, he cracks a smile. Then he lets out a single chuckle. By the time he is fully laughing, I am too.
Back on Rikonos, when we were children, everything was very different, easier. Even though things were already falling apart and our world was already coming to an end, things seemed brighter, more hopeful. Perhaps it was simply that we saw the world through the innocence of childhood.
There was a time when Rym and I were close. But that was before the exodus, before the tensions between his father and mine, and well before Rym’s actions caused Kov to be left without his parents. It was a mistake. A joke gone wrong. But the easy relationship we shared as children and the more rigid one we shared later were completely destroyed that day. Especially when Kov came to live with my family. Once Kov and Trel announced themselves as bondmates, Rym was pushed even further into the background, none of us ever giving him a chance to redeem himself. In our ignorance—in my ignorance—we turned on him, ignored him, and dismissed him.
Yet he is here, when no one else is.
Sharing this moment with my cousin, joined by laughter even if it is edged with awkwardness, reminds me of how we used to be. How, if given the time, we could be again.
I press my lips together and take a deep breath before speaking. “Thank you.” The two words are barely a whisper, squeezing past the lump of regret lodged in my throat. There is also an apology trapped in my chest, but for now I hold it back.
The corners of his mouth quirk up. “Now that we have gotten the awkward male bonding moment out of the way, how about you tell me about what is sure to be a brilliant plan.”
I shrug. “The entire problem with coming up with a feasible plan is that I have no idea what we are working against, what we are facing. I have been locked away and I am somewhat… defective.” I run a hand over my head and then rub the bridge of my nose with it. “Are there any others who are willing to help us? What type of resources do we have at our disposal? What is the time frame we are working with?”
“And that, dear cousin, is why I leave this planning stuff to you. I had not even considered any of that.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Sooner is much better than later. We have everything here at our disposal”—his eyes dart around the room—“and I can probably borrow some things from the labs if we need them. As for allies… those might be a problem.”
Despite her attitude yesterday, I have to ask. “What about Trel?”
He winces. “My sister is…” His gaze goes up to the ceiling as if he’s searching for the right word.
I finish the sentence for him. “My friend. I cannot believe that she would not stand with us once I have a chance to fully explain things to her.”
It is Rym’s turn to sigh and run a hand over his face. “She has been different. Since Kov. Since… your return.” He looks up to meet my gaze. “Though I cannot say for certain. I do not think she will be open to discussing anything that has to do with you taking back the city.”
Uncertainty in this case means hope, and it is that which I choose to focus on. “I want to give her a chance. I do not wish to discount her based only on misunderstanding and misjudgment.”
The smile on his face now is pained and does not fully reach his eyes. “Well, you are running the show here. You’re the boss.” He gives me a mock salute, the stiff and jerky gesture conveying his emotions more effectively than his words do. Perhaps I have learned more than I thought I had about reading others without the link.
“Rym… There are many things I have to apologize for, so much I have learned and so many ways in which I have changed lately. I do not know how to go about making amends to you for the way we all pushed you out and ignored you.” I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and look him directly in the eye. “But know that I will make it up to you, and it means everything to me that you are here now in spite of the way I acted. One of the things I have learned about lately is forgiveness, and I realize it is not an easy feat. So thank you for giving me yours.”
“Dude, you’ve got to drop the mushy stuff. I get it.” He averts his eyes and lets out a nervous chuckle.
I raise one eyebrow and give him a quizzical look. “Dude?”
He bursts out laughing. “Sorry. I forget that you’re not down with the lingo or whatever.”
I shake my head and grin. I have always found Rym’s affection for human slang somewhat strange, but I think I may understand at least part of it now. He spent a large portion of his early teen years, and even recently, watching the research and report vids—because he had nothing else to do, no one else to spend time with. It makes sense that he picked up their way of talking and that he uses it to poke fun at the rest of us. It was all he had to himself, and he used it to cover his own pain.
Though I have always been a bit “prim and proper,” as Rym would say, I at least thought myself observant. But now I feel like a jerk for not realizing all this sooner. Yet another apology is anxious to work its way from my mouth, but I believe Rym is correct to tell me to “drop the mushy stuff.” Nothing I say now can make up for the years I spent being oblivious, and there are so many more important things we need to accomplish.
“Okay, so returning to the whole ally problem,” Rym says. “What about Jax? Her shikiza packs a punch, and I’m sure no one really—”
“Jax has an enhancement?” Hiding the astonishment in my voice is not an option. I spent weeks with her. Granted, half of that time neither of us knew what she was, but I do not understand how I could have missed something like that. The last E’rikon with shikiza was… of course! Jastren Reva. I smack my forehead into my palm. How have I never thought of that? My head comes back up. “How do you know about it?”
“Firsthand experience,” says Rym. “A little parting gift from her when you broke the bond without telling her. I happened to be the closest E’rikon at the time and… zap!” He clasps his hands to his chest dramatically and slumps back into the couch with his eyes closed and his head tilted to the side. I gape at him until he opens one eye to peer at me. “What?”
“I… I had no idea. I knew what she was, but I did not even consider the idea that she might have an enhancement.”
“An enhancement? Try at least two.” He sits back up, suddenly serious again. “At least, that is how many I have personally witnessed.”
“Two? That’s impossible.”
Rym snorts. “I thought so as well until she used shuvata in the ship when we were headed here for your little reunion. I do not think she knew what she was doing. She lost focus for a bit and the next thing I knew she was talking in someone else’s voice. She seemed to pick up on the fact that something was… off, so she shut it down awfully quickly, but I knew what it was.”
There has not been another line with the shuvata enhancement since the Deeren line died out, which was before the exodus. Two of the most powerful offensive enhancements in one being. It should be impossible. But it is not the improbability of it that twists in my stomach and brings my fear for Jax to the forefront of my mind. From what Rym said, her enhancement is especially strong. Enhancements. Plural. Jax doesn’t know how to use these gifts, and she has no one to teach her.
One is worrisome, but the combination of the two is terrifying. And if she has more enhancements…
Uncontrolled, they could tear her mind apart.
FLINT’S ESTIMATE OF ANOTHER hour might have been correct if not for the snow. I’m not even entirely sure we’re still on the actual road. As the snow built up, it formed a slight valley where the road was, but now it all looks the same depth. The truck’s chugging along as best it can, but it’s slow going even with Flint pushing the truck harder—and faster—than he probably should.
As we crest the next hill, a deer runs out in front of us and Flint slams on the brakes to avoid it. But we don’t stop. The rear end slides to the side, and Flint frantically turns the wheel to correct for it. He regains control, getting the nose of the truck headed down the other side of the hill, and holds the w
heel steady, but we’re still sliding, the threadbare wheels unable to find purchase. We’re almost to the bottom of the hill when the front end of the truck cants down and to the right, lifting the back end a few inches into the air.
We’ve run into a ditch.
Flint presses his lips together and tenses his jaw. He takes a deep breath and then puts the truck into reverse. The wheels spin, but the truck stays put. First gear. It rocks forward slightly. Reverse. Slight movement backward. First gear. Rocks forward. Reverse. Backward. First gear…
He’s at it for a good ten minutes before I put a hand on his arm.
“Goddamit!” Flint smacks his hand on the steering wheel. “Looks like we’re hiking from here.”
Stu looks down at Ethan, who’s curled up in his lap fast asleep. “Some of those snow banks are nearly as deep as the boy,” he says. “How much further is it exactly?”
Scanning the area, Flint huffs out a nervous laugh. “No clue. If the map is right and we haven’t gotten too far off course… a mile, maybe five?”
“Walking five miles in this,” Stu flings his hand toward the windshield, “would take all damn day.”
“Better get started then,” Flint mutters.
After a check of the map, I figure out what I think is our general location based on landmarks. We seem to have managed to stay on the road for the most part, and now we can cut through the woods. The trek looks to be around three miles. Still not ideal for Ethan, or really any of us, but I’m ready to get it over with already. I need to get back to Jace.
I tuck my pants legs into my boots, zip up my coat as far as it will go, and lean across Flint to open the door. “Well, let’s get moving guys. No point in sitting here.” I hop out and sink into the snow up to my knees. Great, just great. Maybe this is going to be a little more difficult than I expected.