But there was nothing. The longer it lasted, the more uncertain he was of what the stillness meant, and the more real his fear that he’d just watched her die.
Gone. Can’t be gone. Can’t be alone again, a voice whispered within him. I need her…
It started as panic, but that was short lived, because the pain became something surreal. He felt like he’d lost family—a sister. It was so primitive and physical, far too real. At first, that pain didn’t know where to go, but suddenly, it became fuel. The world quieted around him, becoming small. The color of things seemed to change, everything turning red, as though the anger had set fire to his eyes.
Excali-bar lay in a puddle forming around him, the water pouring down on him more like blood now. His hands took hold of the staff and his forearms began to shake as his grip tightened around the steel. What followed was lethal, hell-bent, and focused. There was nothing else within him—it was all he could feel. He got the sense that he had never truly been angry before, that what he’d thought was anger had only ever been a shadow of the monster he now saw in the flesh.
He stepped through the debris, searching for its face in the fire, the flames within him in an awful harmony with those surrounding him. He drew closer to the inferno raging in the kitchen, felt the heat of it, heard the hissing of flames as they rebelled against the water’s attempt to extinguish them. He caught movement, the outline of the enemy as it staggered from the blaze, smoke wafting off its black and red exterior. The Ferox came from a planet where molten lava ran like rivers—the damn thing had no fear of fire, but the concussive blast of the explosion itself had severely rattled its senses.
When the Ferox’s gaze found him, the white slits of its eyes blinked in an attempt to focus. Disoriented, it looked into him as though he were some mirage in the fire; a hallucination conjured from the trauma to its head during the explosion. For the second time that evening, it appeared that Rylee had handed the enemy to him completely unprepared.
Jonathan roared as he swung, putting all that deadly anger behind Excali-bar. When the connection came, the cement floor cracked in webs beneath his feet, trying to withstand the recoil. The Ferox’s body broke through what remained of a tiled kitchen wall.
If he had been able to feel anything at that moment, he might have been afraid of his own strength. He’d seen his power growing, felt that strength giving him more and more advantage with every confrontation. Something was altogether different, of that, he was sure; something connected to the more complete feeling of his activation—something fueled by this rage.
He followed the Ferox through the hole it had left in the wall, finding it on all fours, trying to get to its feet. It had torn through four of the brewery tanks, spilling their contents in a carbonated white foam all over the restaurant’s floor. The beast had only been brought to the ground when the last tank finally managed to halt its momentum.
Excali-bar’s edge had penetrated. Black blood drained from an ugly gouge in the Ferox’s abdomen. The dark color made a glaring contrast as it puddled against the white foam sizzling on the floor. Jonathan placed his foot where he knew the monster would see it, and like a wounded animal, it looked up to meet his face. The Ferox spoke, its growled words translating in his thoughts.
Two? it said. Two enter the arena for Bleeds the Stone. The Borealis honor me with—
The translation was cut short by an upward swing of the demolition bar, catching the Red under the jaw. It brought the creature off the ground and slammed it back against the vat.
“Quiet, now, Bleeds the Stone,” Jonathan whispered.
He’d had to pull the strike, having no desire to chase after the thing if he’d knocked it through the ceiling. As it was, the Ferox never had enough time to find its bearings, as Jonathan’s interest had been on the hole already punched into its abdomen. His hands glided along Excali-bar, taking hold of the weapon in the manner of a spear, its point aimed downward.
He felt the weapon pass straight through Bleeds the Stone, out the back of the monster’s armored exterior, and through the metal vat on the other side. Impaled, the demolition bar kept the Ferox held upright, and for a moment, the sight reminded Jonathan of a specimen in a bug collection.
Bleeds the Stone wailed in agony as the ale still contained in the vat drained on to the floor. The beast attempted a weak and desperate swipe at him, but Jonathan released his grip on the Excali-bar, using one hand to take hold of the attacking arm and slam it back down against the vat’s wall. Bleeds-the-Stone struggled, its feet unable to find solid purchase on the slick floors, pain and blood loss taking the fight out of it. Finally, realizing it was hopelessly pinned, its eyes turned to find Jonathan waiting.
Water soaked his hair and ran down his face. The fire raging in his eyes seeming to give Bleeds the Stone’s pause before it found the strength to speak.
You are him. Brings the Rain, the Ferox said. The legacy…
With one of his hands on Bleeds the Stone’s wrist, the other took hold behind his elbow, and Jonathan pushed violently in opposite directions. The Red’s elbow bent backward and it roared out over the sickening snap of ligaments tearing free around the bone. Jonathan dropped the creature’s arm as it howled, the limb falling, useless, at its side.
He stepped back and studied the creature as it suffered. The monster had more scars than he had ever seen on a Ferox, and one of its ears was torn away to leave a ragged and ugly asymmetry. As he watched it struggle to speak, each scar no longer represented a warning to him, but the death of one of his own.
Echoes the Borealis, it said.
The Ferox—they had rambled on before, assuming he had any context to understand their words. It was usually a lot of the same, and he had no interest in listening to Bleeds the Stone. He put a hand against the creature’s chest for leverage while using the other to rip Excali-bar free. The ale rushed out of the container, splashing to the floor with parts of the monster’s entrails. Bleeds the Stone’s uninjured hand grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder, gripping him tightly with the last of its strength.
Reborn…
For a moment, Jonathan saw the wall again in his mind, the fracture of black smoke escaping through the cracks as it had in his dreams. His expression hardened as he dropped the demolition bar, clutched his hand into a fist, and plunged it through Bleed the Stone’s open wound. Shock tore through the beast, black blood spilling out of its mouth.
“I told you,” Jonathan whispered into its good ear as his hand found the stone within. “Quiet now.”
He gripped the stone and ripped it free, a sludge of warm black blood and vein-like appendages pulling out of the wound. Jonathan stepped back again as Bleeds the Stone fell off of him onto the ground. As he watched the beast’s life flow, the world seemed to return, the red haze over his sight finally clearing as Bleeds the Stone took his last breath.
Rylee had been thrown through one of the exterior windows, and had fallen two stories onto the gravel rooftop of a lower building connected to the mall. Dropping down beside her, his remaining anger began to be replaced with desperation.
He didn’t know what to do for her.
As he drew nearer, he saw her chest rise and fall, and was relieved to have his fears proved wrong. If she was alive, then she could break the stone. She’d be fine, returned to her body, uninjured, wherever she had been when the gates first opened. He would have to break the stone in her hand and stand clear of the….
Two stones, he remembered.
The situation was no longer so simple. Heyer had never told him that a contingency like this was possible—another item on his rapidly-growing list of details the alien hadn’t thought important. How was he supposed to close the gates safely? The only person he knew that had ever been in this situation before was unconscious. He had to try and wake her.
He knelt beside her and began looking for injuries but nothing obvious struck him. There weren’t any broken bones protruding from her skin, no blood from a life-threatening wound.
It was possible that the blast had knocked her unconscious, but it could just as easily have been the fall if she hit her head. He wasn’t a doctor but figured she could have a concussion either way. Still, he was afraid to move her, and if he did, he saw little point taking her to a hospital.
Gently, he rolled her straight, hoping that getting her comfortable would improve the situation. He laid her arms and legs flat, ran his hand along the bones he could feel, looking for breaks that may have escaped his eyes. Finding nothing on the surface, he feared the possibility of shattered ribs puncturing organs. If Rylee had internal bleeding, she could be dying right in front of him and he wouldn’t even know.
Carefully, he pulled her out of the thick leather of her armored jacket, kneeling over her awkwardly and slipping the sleeves around her shoulders, trying to be as gentle as possible. He rested her forehead against his chest as he got her arms free, fearing that, at any moment, she’d cry out and tighten up in pain if she woke to broken bones he had not found.
“Jonathan,” she whispered weakly.
He froze at the sound of her voice. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled thankfully. Her body had been limp, but now she moved. Her arms reached around his shoulders, gripping him to her.
“Jonathan?” she whispered again, more desperate this time.
“I’m here,” he said.
She sounded like a child coming out of sleep, unsure of her surroundings. As her reality returned, she grasped him tightly. “Tibbs!” she yelled.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re just feeling the stones. They’re taken care of.”
A moment passed before the grip she had on him softened. “Oh,” she said, followed by a chuckle at her own expense. “My head hurts.”
“Try and stay still. You hit it pretty good. I’m going to lay you back down,” he said, gently leaning and returning her to the gravel rooftop.
She didn’t let go when he’d put her down, resisted him leaving, holding tight when he began to pull away. Unable to stand without forcing the issue, he found himself staring over Rylee’s shoulder at the gravel rooftop while she looked over his at sky.
He heard her swallow before she spoke again. He noticed her voice was clearer now, and somewhat curious.
“What happened exactly?” she asked.
Jonathan caught himself beginning to laugh. “You blew up a brewery.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SATURDAY | OCTOBER 8, 2005 | 10:50 PM | SEATTLE
HE SAT BESIDE her on the corner of the rooftop, listening to the sounds of sirens approaching. The two stones glowed, resting between them on the ledge. Rylee had avoided looking at them the moment he’d set them down. She’d grown rather distant altogether as she stared out over the city.
This silence had set in shortly after she’d let go of him. He didn’t want to do her harm, and she could see that, but his discomfort betrayed him the moment she searched his eyes. He hadn’t known what to do with the affection she was showing him, and reminding her of it had driven an awkward wedge between them again.
He wanted to tell her he understood, at least to a point. He had no idea what they may have been through together before, and strangely, he felt as though he owed her an apology for it. He could see the situation reversed. To have found someone who shared in his struggle, only to have them forget who he was, look back at him as though he were a stranger… What he couldn’t understand was why Rylee hadn’t tried harder to explain it to him. He would have believed her. He didn’t see how she could have imagined that he wouldn’t.
Jonathan looked down at the stones between them again. Their red glow reminded him that they needed to deal with them, but her mood made him reluctant to rush the topic. Maybe she feared the pain of closing the gates. Jonathan certainly never looked forward to it. Yet, from the little he knew of her, physical pain didn’t seem like something that frightened her.
They couldn’t be ignored forever, but Jonathan had plenty he wanted to know. If asking her some questions put off closing the gates for a few minutes longer, he didn’t see the harm. He looked at her then, searching for where to begin, and a gust of wind pushed past them. She shivered, and he realized she was cold because he’d taken off her jacket. As he looked at her, he noticed something that he’d missed before. He’d been too concerned with her possible injuries when he had removed her jacket.
“Your device,” Jonathan said. “It doesn’t glow?”
Rylee’s eyes went momentarily unfocused before she let out a sigh. She didn’t look bothered by the question—more like she found it pointless.
“What?” he asked.
“Deja vu,” she said.
“Right,” Jonathan nodded. “Would you humor me?”
She stood and faced him, pulling the T-shirt up to her neck without a hint of modesty.
Jonathan cleared his throat, trying to divert his gaze from the cleavage being held in by a sports bra so close to his face. A small, disbelieving laugh escaped her as she observed him blushing, like his attempt to be gentlemanly about the interaction was funny to her.
The device was there, but nothing like his own—the differences weren’t subtle. It was embedded under the skin and webbed into her muscles and tissues, but that was where the similarity ended. Instead of the intersecting lines that crossed over his torso, her implant had more in common with the shape of a Y. Two lines met at the center of her chest, both coming in at an angle from each shoulder. Those lines met a third in the center running down past her belt line. The glow was there, but it didn’t burst forth from her skin as his did. Instead, it almost seemed like a glimmer beneath the surface, more like an iridescent blue ink running through her, incredibly muted in comparison to the unignorably orange energy that radiated off of him. He found himself somewhat jealous of it. Rylee could hide her activation under a T-shirt.
After he’d studied it for a moment, she pulled the shirt back down, and he looked up to find a mocking smile waiting for him. “Get a good look?” she asked.
He looked away. “Funny. The design, it reminds me of the—”
“The flux capacitor from Back to the Future? Yeah, you may have mentioned that last time,” Rylee said. “Dork.”
Jonathan made a face of mock pain, but nodded in agreement. Perhaps he was spending too much time with Hayden. “Rylee—” He paused, unsure if he should ask. “Why did you leave this morning, why didn’t you try and explain it to me?”
She gave him the same look again, shaking her head. “You wouldn’t understand. I thought you—” Rylee stopped and let out a long agitated breath. “You can’t understand.”
“I would have believed you,” Jonathan said.
“I know that. Of course I know. You can’t just—it’s not as simple as y—” She looked away from him, and he could feel her frustration with him even though he couldn’t understand it. A moment of silence followed and she sighed. “I will. Okay?” she said. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
He frowned at her, could tell she struggled with something and didn’t want to explain. He couldn’t imagine what was making it so difficult. “Promise?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed again, and she smirked at him. “What are we, Tibbs? Children? You aren’t going to remember if I promised or not. You’re not gonna remember any of it.”
“But you will,” he said.
Rylee looked at first like his statement was a declaration of something so obvious it didn’t need saying. She stiffened a bit, seeing how he looked at her, seeming to understand that he believed her honor would hold her to her word whether he remembered it or not.
Jonathan’s own expression became distant, then, as he remembered Leah asking him to make the same promise earlier that evening. Now, he had this memory of her staring into his eyes and promising she wouldn’t doubt him if he would only give her the chance to believe him. Is that what he looked like to Rylee now?
“Stop looking so pathetic,” Rylee said. “Yes, okay. I promise”
He nodded, but remem
bered he hadn’t made that promise to Leah. It occurred to him then, that he wasn’t going to remember that Leah had said those words to him. Though this was probably for the best, it saddened him. Then again—he hadn’t lost the entirety of his memory the last time he had overlapped with Rylee. He’d still remembered the first few minutes the other day, as he’d headed off into the city to intercept the Ferox. He might remember what Leah had said to him tonight.
“How can I find you?” Jonathan asked. “On the off chance I do remember something?”
Rylee sighed and rattled off a street and a motel name with the same been-here-done-this attitude she’d had every time he asked a question.
His attention returned to the stones, and Rylee’s mood plummeted again.
“Well,” Rylee said. “At least we don’t have to go through all that again.”
He frowned at her. “I don’t follow.”
“I know you don’t, Tibbs,” Rylee said, her eyes still lingered on the stones. “But getting to screw with you is really the only upside to being the one who remembers, so you’ll just have to accept that I am gonna get my fill of it.”
He sighed, but smiled at her.
“Damn alien,” she said. “Didn’t ever lay out the game plan for two stones, did he? You and I spent a half-hour last time, arguing about how we might screw up the space-time continuum.”
Jonathan sniggered. He couldn’t help it. It was just such an odd thing to hear this warrior girl say ‘space-time continuum’ in a Brazilian accent like she was Doc Brown.
When she caught him smiling, she seemed to read his thoughts and raised a brow. “Your words, not mine,” she said. “You were the one who was so concerned about it.”
“Well, yeah, I mean what do we—”
She held up her hand, reminding him yet again that anything he was going to ask, she’d already heard. “We didn’t want to risk each breaking one at the same time. No idea what it would do, or if it would matter if they were destroyed out of sync. We also didn’t know what would happen if one of us broke both, seeing as each of the stones should be tied to one of us but not the other.”
The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2) Page 13