His harsh expression reappeared. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to. Besting me once in a fight where I assumed you would cower does not make you anything more than lucky. It certainly doesn’t give you the right to boss me around.” So much for his five minutes of acting like a human being.
Could I trust him to get my stuff? Strangely, I did. Hell, one sorry from the guy and my anger folded like an old card table, even with his grouch once again flipped on. Not that I had a choice but to trust him. He was the only one I’d ruled out as the Misgiver, and one of the few who knew the name of my hometown.
“Have you used the Shift to fight before?” I asked, brow jacked up in challenge.
He came forward, stopping so close all I could see were his eyes. “Did the founder somehow teach you that?”
I might have issued the retort burning on my tongue if I wasn’t afraid I’d close that last bit of distance and … what? Kiss him? How stupid was that? Sweet mother Mary, I was losing my ever-loving mind. The twitching in my nethers could just forget it. So not happening.
Maybe a little psychology 101? “There’s something I need to do, something so important it scares the bajeepers out of me. I really wish I could trust you enough to tell you what it is, but I can’t. And how sad is that considering you’re supposed to be my guide through all of this. So the bottom line is that if you’re not going to help me, then get the bloody hell out of my way and send me someone who can.” I shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “I’m sure Marcus would be glad to step up.”
He recoiled as if I’d kicked him in the croquet set. His lips pressed together, and something surged in those glacial eyes. Fury, hatred, possession, I had no idea what, but it was big and bad and coming to get me with sharp teeth. Oh, hell. I backed up. He followed. My back had a meet and greet with the wall, and I yelped.
“You will stay away from Marcus. Are we quite clear?” he asked, or maybe growled, the effect was the same. “Have you been seeing him behind my back?” When I couldn’t find any air to answer with, he said, “Speak!”
“No, all right? Jeez, you are crabby.” I swallowed, both hot and cold in his shadow, in different places in my body. I flattened my hands against the wall so I wouldn’t reach for him. Just because I still wanted to touch him didn’t mean he needed to know it.
Digging hands into his pockets, expelling a sigh with the pressure of a fire extinguisher, he said, “Tell me what you need.” He resumed his top-to-bottom inspection of my towel-wrapped form. Asher had told me to be careful about revealing my weaknesses to him. Did he know he’d just tossed one out there for me? Fork him a little Marcus threat, and suddenly his switch has flipped from hell-no to use-me-I’m-yours. Sweet deal.
I considered my words carefully before answering, digging up another trick out of the psych handbook. “Do you still believe in the Machine? Do you care enough about it to go outside your known and do whatever it takes to make it work like it should? Because if you do, and you’ll pull your head out long enough to trust me, we can still fix the Machine and make our world safe for everyone.”
Only his eyes relayed that I’d hit my mark. Pain. Pain and what might have been hope radiated from him. I hated using his own ghosts against him, but I needed to know how real he was.
“If I didn’t still believe, I’d have eaten my gun by now.” Shame colored his cheeks as he angled his body away from me. My stomach jerked at the thought of him hurt. He was aching plenty already, but dead couldn’t be fixed. I wanted to fix him, grouch and all.
I did reach for him, then, but he jerked back. Frowning, I paused, deciding to take a leap of faith. “Then you need to take me to get my mother’s books.”
“What?” His body seized as if someone had Tasered his ass. “You know where they are?” The force of his voice pushed me back against the counter. Apparently he hadn’t been listening in on my conversation with Dad.
“Did you know they were important?” I told him Dad’s story about when I’d found the books in the garage, had crawled out to them as if they’d been calling me. When he did nothing but blink at me, I said, “Well, say something.”
“I thought he destroyed them. If I’d thought he’d just taken them away, I’d have gone looking for them.”
“Did you know they belonged to my mother? Was she part of the Machine?” I didn’t know what I wanted him to say. Yes? No? What would have made me feel worse? No freakin’ idea.
He roughed his non-wounded hand over his shadow beard. “I didn’t know whose they were until I saw her standing over your bed that night, the one you saw in your memories during the ceremony. She tried to convince him to get rid of the books then, but she didn’t succeed until she returned years later.”
I couldn’t breathe for a moment. “So she was really in my room. That memory was real.” A nice hot rush of anger came up to chase away the burn at the back of my eyes. “She was right in my room and never bothered to introduce herself. What was she sorry for? That she hadn’t aborted me? That is what she said, right? That she was sorry?”
“I think she knew what you’d become.”
Which was what? “So she was part of the Machine,” I whispered, not sure what I thought about it. “Then where is she now? Is she still alive?”
“Glenna was never part of the Machine that I know of, but she didn’t age past her early twenties as if she was. I think she was sensitive to the rifts, but I couldn’t find her no matter how hard I tried. I got the feeling the Shift didn’t want me to find her, so I let it go.”
“Maybe she was part of the original Machine and escaped the massacre?” Maybe she had abandoned us for a reason? A knot untied in me, but I didn’t know how to let go of a lifetime of anger. I didn’t know for sure her taking off had anything to do with the Machine, so I set it aside for the moment.
Asher moved forward again, aggressive, determined. “Where are the books, Addison?”
My real name. Bad to worse. “So you agree that the books are important?” I’m only in a towel. He could rip it off in a flash, and the counter top is right there … stop it!
“You wouldn’t be so drawn to them if they weren’t. I’d always planned to take everything from your library the moment I realized I was supposed to recruit you. Now, where?” His voice had gone whispers-in-the-dark again, but instead of scaring me this time, it only made my thighs tingle harder than they already were.
“I—I’m going with you.” And now I was stuttering. Fantastic.
When all he did was lock me in his stare that melted my bones, I said, “Stop eyeballing me and say something.”
He cleared his throat and shook his head. “You can’t leave here until you can prove you can defend yourself against all forms of attack, wield a blade, and shoot a gun. We might have the skills to pull out a wraith and live forever if left alone, but we still bleed and die like everyone else if we’re injured in the vital parts.” That would explain why we were called the Mortal Machine, not the Immortal Machine.
Was he staring at my mouth again? Nah. Probably wondering how his fist would look there. “And you need to learn how to suppress your energy. I could feel it across the training room the instant it came online right after you pinned me, and now I can hardly breathe around it. If I can feel it, so will the wraiths, and since they were drawn to you while it still lay dormant in your soul, you’ll be a beacon to them now.”
And so would the Misgiver have felt it. So much for trying to keep a lid on it when Izan had warned me to. Would he or she perceive me as some kind of threat to their plans? “I don’t need a gun. If you need to kill someone, then you’ve done the extraction wrong.”
“Did the founder tell you that?”
“His name is Izan, and no, it’s just common sense. I think most of what’s in the bible is a lie, and it’s up to you and me to sort out the truth from the deceptions. And as for my energy, I’ll figure that out on my own. I’m going with you, and that’s final.”
He raised his hand toward my face,
the movements shaky. The needful look in his eyes sent a new surge of heat through me, stalled my breath in my throat, especially since only a towel separated my nakedness from his hard body. It wasn’t anger or annoyance that stared at me, but the same longing Remy pointed at Sophia. “No,” he said.
Where, oh where, had all the air gone?
Time held its breath, and once again the beating heart pressed down on me. I got a mental image of a box down deep in my center. Not a physical box, but my mind interpreted it that way as Izan sprang another slideshow on me. When Izan slipped out of me again, I had the answer to my energy issue.
But how could I impress upon Asher that I wasn’t dicking around? You know what they say about a picture’s worth? In this case, I thought touch might go further. It wasn’t wrong. I grabbed his bare wrist, the one he held near my chin.
The room flashed. He went to his knees, mouth open in a silent scream. Those delicate glowing tattoos covered both of us, spreading out across the floor, up the walls and the ceiling, until everything turned blue, that alien shade I had no name for. Panic rose for a moment, that I’d made a terrible mistake and we’d soon start bleeding out of our ears, but pleasure drowned out the initial discomfort. God, it felt good, like that rush after a massive sneeze, only times a gazillion.
My energy roared around me like a whirlpool in the ocean, so large and deep it could drown the northern hemisphere. While Asher struggled in my grasp, I forced my power into the box inside of me. Energy kept pouring in and in until I thought the box would come apart, but it didn’t. It just kept swallowing until the ocean was gone.
Discomfort didn’t cover it. I had sudden sympathy for a subway car at rush hour, only I was trying to fit half of the world’s population inside my chest.
When the light show faded, I ended up on my knees before him, still holding his wrist. He blinked at me. Our tattoos faded and disappeared. Breath heaved in and out of us.
“I felt your storm leave you, like a tide receding.” He brought his other hand up and touched my face, a quick dart of fingers before pulling them back. Again, he came in, sliding his fingers against my cheek. It was just a hand this time, warm and gentle. Tingles surged through my flesh, unhinging my bones.
“How … Even I can’t suppress it this much,” he said, sighing, and rubbed his hands against his fatigues. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that. It took me years to control mine.”
My heart took a long walk off a short peer. “Why shouldn’t I? Because I’m a small-town, redneck plaid-lover?” Cinching my towel tighter around my boobs, I climbed to my feet and went to the door. “Is touching me so disgusting to you that you can’t even wait until I’m gone before wiping me off on your pants? God, you just can’t go five seconds without insulting me, can you? I’m getting dressed, and then I’m going to get my books. I don’t need you.”
I did, since I didn’t know where my hometown was, but it still felt good to throw that empty threat at him.
I stalked off, throat tight. I would not cry over him again. He was a king-kamaya ass. So why did I still want to go back and roll around on him like a naked hussy on a silk sheet? Why did I want to hug him and tell him that we’d figure everything out? Why did his constant jabs cut so deep? I supposed giving my crazy a purpose didn’t make me any less crazy. Because only someone certifiable would have any desire to get physical with that horrible excuse for a man.
I needed to forget my insane attraction to Asher Green and do what I was born to do—not that I knew exactly what that was yet, but I would eventually.
First stop on the crazy train: get my books back and learn how to hunt me some wraiths. The Misgiver had put rules in place so that none of the guardians knew a thing about one another, other than the one person who held their baseline. Which meant one of them hadn’t shared his or her past with another in the chamber. How could I find out who it was? Watching them all had gained me exactly nothing, since I had nothing to measure it against. I needed a look under their hoods.
Chapter 25
I raided the giant warehouse-closet for a cream V-neck sweater and a pair of jeans in my size. And found one whole pair. Yay me. No plaid shirts, though. An entire freaking warehouse of clothes, and not a speck of plaid or flannel to be found. I’d have to talk to Sophia about that.
I didn’t usually wear sweaters, but after Asher’s parting comments, I was cold and couldn’t seem to get warm. My box continued to hold my power, but like a fist I’d been holding too long, I ached to set it free again. My pride kept it inside, though. Success is the best revenge, so they say. Not that I really cared what he thought. I didn’t.
I’d have given almost anything to talk it all out with Dad. He could cut through my mental chaos better than anyone. I needed comfort, and I didn’t trust anyone other than him to give it to me. What was he doing? Had he forgotten me temporarily, too? That didn’t make sense unless Asher had cleaned my pictures and such out of the house. I hoped Dad wasn’t freaking out, thinking I was lost in South America on that fake dig since I hadn’t so much as sent him a text.
I returned to my room to get the storage locker key and found my door slightly ajar. I froze, staring at that fine line of light showing between the jam and the metal. Who would have gone in my room?
Asher.
The key!
I whipped the door open, then dug into my pillow case where I’d hidden my treasure. When I couldn’t find it, I yanked the pillow out and shook it free of the case.
“Asher!” I raced back down the hallway into the main one with all of the metal doors. My heart gave a harsh roundhouse against my breast bone at the thought of losing the books again before I’d even been able to see them.
Voices filtered out from the common room. Asher and Sophia. I ran faster, bursting into the room. He stood there, arms crossed, talking conspiratorially close to Sophia.
“Where’s my goddamn key?” I asked, glad I’d done enough running that I no longer panted after a burst like that.
He traced me up and down, one brow raised with a masculine sort of elegance only he could pull off. Annoyance, appraisal, amusement, it was all in that subtle movement. “In my possession, where it belongs.”
“The books are somewhere safe.” Sophia moved away from Asher, darting glances in his direction. He’d already gone to get them? “I saw your Dad give you the key, and heard where he said they were. Sorry, Addison, but I kind of agreed with Asher, that he needed to get the books for you.”
“You told her?” I asked, shock plain in my voice. “How could you … what if …?” Dammit.
“She’s not the traitor,” he said. “She’s one of only a few I trust in all of the Machine.”
“You know about that? And why aren’t you surprised that I know?” I hadn’t mentioned it, had I? No, definitely not.
“What, you think you’re the only one looking beyond what the eye can see?” Could he hear Izan inside his head, too? No, Izan said only I could hear him. “And I’m not surprised you know, because I get the feeling this is why Izan wanted you here now. He’s giving you urges to do things and go places, isn’t he?”
“He tells and shows me stuff inside my head.” I winced, wondering if I should have told them that.
Sophia gripped her hips, staring at me as if I’d just dissed her fashion sense. “You thought I betrayed everyone? Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t want it to be you,” I muttered, turning back to Asher. “I need to know how you know about this. And how do you know Sophia isn’t … you know? I mean, I want to believe, and I really mean I don’t want it to be her, but I need to know why you’re so sure.”
“He really speaks to you?” he asked. If the crease in his forehead went any deeper it would press on his brain.
“Yeah. Now answer my question.”
“The Shift leads me places where I’ve found … things. I put two and two together and figured out something is amiss.” Glancing at Sophia, he added, “I needed to trust someone. She agreed
to let me do a baseline a few years ago so I’d know all she knew. She’s who she says she is. Born fifty-two years ago, after the massacre.”
I puffed out a breath. “You have no idea how relieved I am.” Going to Sophia, who continued to glare at me, I said, “Look, I’m sorry. He told me not to trust anyone. Forgive me?”
I wanted to ask her if she knew when her birthday was or had phantom images of her parents like I had of Dad. Her face gave away nothing. Were her memories in there, lost in a fog like mine? Or were they just plain gone, and she only had a few details that Asher was able to pick up?
She opened her mouth to say something, but Asher said, “Things to do, Plaid. Save your sentimental drivel for later. We’re going.”
I knifed him with a glare, but saved my breath. I’d have had better luck talking to my shoe. “To get my books from wherever you stashed them?”
“No.” He started for the door.
I crossed my arms. “Nuh-uh. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You’re not going anywhere without me, you mean.” He wore a grin I didn’t understand, part menace and part humor. “You will not leave my sight again until you’ve proven you can defend yourself.”
“I’ve already proven I can defend myself. I thought the fat lip I gave you would have been evidence enough.” The ache to touch him had been manageable when he stayed away, but how could I be with him all the time and not go crazy with my urges?
He tried very hard to crush me with those pools of ice he stared out of. “Gun range.” Whispers-in-the-dark. “Now.”
I’d much rather he yelled at me than that scary-ass growl. “Fine. I still won’t shoot anyone.”
“March.” He held the door open.
I marched. Scowled. Cussed under my breath. He followed after me like a silent wave of pissed-off.
“Freakin’ waste of time. How can you know something’s wrong with the Machine and not know it isn’t about bullets? I’ve been here … like, what … weeks, and I know it. Hell, I’ve always known violence didn’t solve anything. They tell you that in kindergarten. At least, in my era, they do. And you still didn’t really explain what ‘things’ Izan led you to that made you think we had a traitor among us.”
Darkside Sun (Entangled Embrace) Page 22