“I assume you’re not asking me back to the team,” I said. I forced some amusement into my voice.
Cinder just looked at me.
“I wouldn’t last a minute in a fight with Aleph, Jeff. Not without the rest of you to back me up.”
His jaw clenched again. “He’s worked with partners before.”
It took me a second to realize what he was suggesting. Partners. I remembered everything I’d read in Aleph’s file. And everything that hadn’t been in there, except if you happened to notice. Partners.
I veiled.
Cinder reached out, but I already stepped aside. “Tristan… wait!” He turned his head, frowning. He knew I was still there. “Tristan, please.”
I waited. At least while I was veiled he couldn’t see me hugging myself and trying not to cry.
“That was certainly more efficient than when I do it,” I said.
Jeff smiled at me—a rare treat, and he looked so handsome. He made the campfire burst into flame with just a single pointed finger.
He looked good in the green t-shirt I gave him for his birthday.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been camping before,” he said.
“I love it. I’ve done it since I was a kid.” I looked at him. “Thanks for coming.”
He nodded, and then his jaw tightened. Unintentionally, I’d dipped into his thoughts. Tell him.
I felt my heart lurch to triple-time. Jeff stared into the flames, not moving. It was adorable: he was struggling to find a way to tell me. I hadn’t been able to stand to watch the poor guy suffer. Not after how kind he’d been with me.
“Go ahead,” I said.
He’d looked at me, surprised but obviously a bit relieved. “Oh,” he said.
“I feel the same way,” I took his hand.
He withdrew it. “Wait.” He frowned. “The same way?”
My stomach had gone tight. “What were you going to tell me?”
“Quantum—Colin—and I are…” He blushed. I’d never seen him blush before. “We’re giving it a shot. Dating, I mean.” Then he frowned again. “But you feel the same way? You mean about Colin?”
My head throbbed. “Colin isn’t even from our timeline.”
Jeff’s hazel eyes stared at me. “I’m…” Then he’d gotten it. “You meant me.” His eyes filled with pity.
I rose. “I have to go.” My voice was raw and weak, and I felt my eyes filling up.
Jeff stood. “Tristan.”
“I’m an idiot,” I said. “God, why am I such an idiot? I’m not special, right? I’m barely on the team. God—Quantum can bend time!” I shook my head, so angry at myself. “Imagine the sex.”
“Hey,” Jeff took my arm and looked me in the eyes. “I do like you. It’s just… well, I think of you as…”
“Nothing?” I’d suggested.
“No,” he said firmly. “You’re my friend. I like you.”
I stared into his eyes, and then did what should have been unthinkable. But it hadn’t been. It was easy. I’d shoved hard.
“No, Jeff,” I’d said, my head throbbing. “You love me.”
When I stood across from him at the campfire, after what he’d said, I wondered if that’s why he’d asked me to meet him here. The campsite. The scene of the crime, as it were.
“Aleph’s partners were nearly as powerful as he is,” I said. “And as I recall, they’re both buried now.”
Cinder turned to face where he heard my voice. “Yes.”
“He’s also a solo kind of guy. Both those partnerships weren’t very stable,” I said.
“I know,” Cinder said. “Mentaliste thinks he’s got trust issues.”
I laughed.
We’d been fine until she arrived. Mentaliste, they’d decided to call her. Unlike me, she hadn’t been a one-trick pony. Born in Quebec, Mentaliste had developed telepathic abilities like I had, though they were weaker—I’d allowed myself to be smug about that—but she was also telekinetic. My already small role became even smaller.
I didn’t mind. I had Jeff, who loved me, though now and then I could feel some small part of him struggling with a detail or two, and every time I smoothed it out in his mind, it became a little easier to do. Colin—Quantum—had travelled into some random future, and Touchdown and Lustre made it perfectly clear who they blamed. But Jeff’s loyalty had been total. We’d camped most weekends when he hadn’t been on duty.
I’ll give Mentaliste credit. I hadn’t see it coming. Breaking into the mind of another telepath is a lot of work; she never gave me an outward sign of suspicion so I never read her thoughts. She had gone to Touchdown first—they had already become close—and the two of them had taken me by surprise.
We were in the kitchen, of all places. Jeff, Cirrus, Noire, and Lustre were out on an interview. It was just the three of us. That had been their only real mistake, looking back. People underestimate the weak.
“I know what you did to Jeff,” Mentaliste said. That was all she felt the need to say.
They were on either side of me. I felt my arms press against my side, and my feet had slid together. Mentaliste held me still, telekinetically. I didn’t waste time trying to play dumb. I’d been cornered again, trapped by people stronger than me.
But I knew better than to show fear.
“And?” I said. “So what?”
Touchdown became livid, like I’d hoped. He’d been at the mercy of Titiritero once. The “Mexican Puppeteer” had used Touchdown to knock bank guards into comas. One had died. Touchdown stepped close, his fingertips crackling with bio-electric impulses. He glared into my eyes and snarled. “You fucking freak! You as good as raped him!”
“Jay!” Mentaliste tried to warn him.
“I’m her, and she’s me,” I said, and pushed into Touchdown’s mind so hard my nose bled. That hadn’t happened in a while. He’d jerked back, and his eyes widened. Mentaliste tried to dodge, but Touchdown grazed her arm with one quick jab—his power threw her nervous system into a tailspin. She collapsed, unconscious. My arms and legs came free.
“Hold onto him,” I said, and Touchdown nodded. “I’ll get some restraints.”
Then I walked out of the kitchen, down the stairs, and out into the street.
“Trust issues or not, I really don’t think Aleph will want to hang out with me, Jeff,” I said.
He waited.
“Does the Agency know you’re here?” I asked.
Cinder took a long while before he answered. “No.”
It didn’t surprise me.
“You’ve noticed his targets, right?” he asked.
I sighed. Jeff was right. I had noticed the pattern. Aleph was violent, and more than powerful enough to take down entire buildings—which he’d done many times. Churches, especially. Once, an entire jail. And a Log-Cabin Republican event. His list of murders had even included some members of the senate, federal judges, and more minor politicians than I could recall. People called him an anarchist, but when the body counts finalized, I’d noticed how the charred corpses of the right wing bodies stacked much higher, and how—here and there—there were targets a lot more like mine.
It was only obvious if you went looking for it.
“Yeah,” I said, because Cinder was waiting for me to reply. “But just because we have a similar agenda, I don’t think he’s going to invite me along for his next crime.”
Cinder put his visor back on. Then he pulled something from his belt—a memory stick. Information about Lewis Nicolas, I assumed. Aleph’s location. He put it on the ground, then straightened. He looked directly at me. It was probably just luck. It might have been that heat sense of his. Either way, it made me flinch.
“So change his mind,” Cinder said.
He leapt, and flew away. There w
as a flash of warmth against my skin, and then nothing.
The e-mail on my screen had startled me; the sender name had made me feel sick. It was from Jeff. I’d risen, spilling some of my tea, and had rushed to the window to see if the rest of N.A.M.D.A. were outside.
I’d been careful for the last two years. I’d made a new costume, for the rare times I appeared in one. I was using a new name—Psilence—not that anyone had really known that Recon ever existed. I unleashed no grand schemes. I knew my limits, but the right thought in the right mind at the right time had always been a force to be reckoned with.
I’d not been idle.
I had wondered if anyone noticed how certain rich right-wing bastards started donating to kinder causes. I had known I’d been found out a couple of times—I’d gone too far with that so-called “church” that insisted on picketing at funerals. They had brought Mentaliste in to help my victims recover from their sudden desire to volunteer all their time to picking up garbage. I had taken some pride in how long it took her to fix the pastor, though, who had “decided” to takes vows of silence, poverty, and chastity; and went on a hunger strike. He looked better thirty pounds lighter.
And maybe it had been a mistake, but when that child molesting bastard in Oklahoma had gotten off on a technicality, I had him write “Psilence” in his own blood on the wall of his hotel room after he slit his wrists. No one was ever going to fix him.
But how had Jeff found me? I hadn’t been using my real name since my days in the Agency—getting a fake ID had been child’s play. I hadn’t needed a regular job—it was easy enough to collect “donations” from some of my richer victims.
Still, investigation had always been one of Jeff’s strengths.
“Shit,” I said. I clicked the message.
All it said was: “Campsite. Tomorrow, 10pm.”
I hit the reply button and agreed.
“I want to work with you,” I say, trying not to let my voice crack. My eyes are watering from the glare of the energy curtain.
“Why would I work with you?” Aleph’s voice is a sneer. “You’re a bug compared to me.”
I force myself to sound calm. To exude confidence. Behind his face-plate, it’s hard to tell if he’s looking at me or not, but it’s not like he’s given me much room in his little circle of death. “Every time you’ve been beaten, it’s been a telepath,” I say. He shifts slightly, annoyed again at not quite knowing where I am. “I can help you.”
“I don’t deal with ghosts,” he snaps.
I drop the veil. I reach up and take my mask off, and I can feel the surprise in his mind. Sandy hair, hazel eyes, plain face. I’ve always looked younger than I am. I’m starting to work my way into his thoughts, though it’s difficult to do it so slowly and without giving myself away.
Aleph raises his hands, and the circle of white plasma tightens to within inches of my feet, dancing around my body. It’s hot, but it’s not burning me. Yet. It takes everything I have not to flinch, not to try to make him turn it off. It’s also nowhere near the worst he can dish out.
“I can handle the telepaths for you,” I say. “It’s everything else I suck at.”
He snorts.
“I know the kind of people you go after,” I say, hoping this won’t tip him over the edge. “If you looked me up, you know how I feel about them. I’d like to help.”
For that one moment, his thoughts open to me. He considers it. He’s not going to kill me. But he’s certainly not going to work with me. It’s too bad, he thinks, that the first guy he meets who understands is someone so weak. I’m even a little bit cute. But I’m unworthy of his attention. I’m not a threat.
I’m nothing.
It’s a small crack in his defences, but it’s a crack. I’ve worked with less.
I push. He gasps, and for just a second the plasma burns blue-hot and leaps at my chest. I yelp, but I slam into his head and the energy winks out. He staggers back. His mind isn’t weak, but he was unprepared. Smoke smoulders from my costume.
“Take off the mask,” I grind out the words, ignoring the burning pain across my chest and feeling sweat form on my forehead. It’s always been easier when I can look into someone’s eyes. His hands jerk once, then shakily start to rise. He’s fighting me, but if I lose, I die. When he grips his faceplate, he lets out a strangled cry before he tugs it off.
Furious brown eyes met mine. I pour into him. I feel myself tipping, and manage to sink to my knees without keeling over entirely.
He cries out. I hear him gag, then whimper as I dig through his mind and—as Jeff put it—change it. He even whispers “please,” and for a moment I feel bad for him. But it’s just a moment. He has killed so many, over the years, and never cared about bystanders. He would kill Jeff, and not lose a moment’s sleep. He is evil. He’s so much worse than me. I reach into his mind with everything I have, and tell him what to remember.
What to believe.
What to feel.
Blood erupts from my nose, and I keep going. There’s a ringing in my ears, and the pounding in my head is worse than ever before, and I keep going. All I ever wanted was not to be hurt again. Well apparently, that’s too damn bad.
Pain.
Then darkness.
After Cinder flew away, I turned the memory stick over and over in my hand. I hadn’t been back to my hometown in years. I started walking, not really sure where I was going until I was at my old front door. My parents were long gone, but when I knocked on the door, the young woman who sleepily answered had a particularly open mind. It was easy to force her to let me in, even though her parents were away for the weekend.
She had my old room, but hadn’t found the hiding spot I’d made under the boards in the closet. The football was still wrapped in a plastic bag, which cracked when I unwrapped it. I told the young woman I was never there, and she let me out politely before going back to her bed.
Erik Miller was still in town. He’d married, and had three children—all boys—all of whom had inherited his height and easy smile. I stayed veiled as I walked through his house, kept them asleep while I looked at each of his sons in turn. The middle one looked the most like him. I went to Erik’s bedroom last, where he and his wife—a girl we went to high school with, though I couldn’t remember her name—were sleeping.
His hair was thinner, but he was still in good shape.
I put the football on his bedside table. I slipped into his sleeping mind, and reminded him of how he’d wanted it as a teenager. In his sleep, he smiled gratefully.
Then I left.
“Please wake up!”
Someone is holding my hand. It’s such an effort to open my eyes. Aleph’s face swims into view. He’s pulled off his helmet completely. I don’t know where we are, but I’m on a very comfortable bed. I’m still wearing my costume pants, though my Kevlar vest and uniform shirt are gone. There are a couple of red burns across my chest, but they’re not terrible. They’ll heal, in time.
Lewis Nicolas is looking down at me with worry. Now that he’s not trying to kill me, I have the time to notice his face. He’s got a strong brow and a shaved head, and his brown eyes are actually quite striking. He’s got a five o’clock shadow going on, and though there’s a scar that runs through his left cheek, somehow it suits him. He’s almost handsome, and it surprises me. Even I assume the villains are ugly.
I swallow, aching everywhere. My head is pounding. “Where…?” My voice comes out cracked and dry.
“Oh thank God,” he says, and squeezes my hand. His thoughts start to bleed into my mind, and I just don’t have it in me to close them out. He’s terrified I wasn’t going to wake up. He’s not quite sure how N.A.M.D.A. got the jump on him, but there’s no way he’s ever going to let it happen again. All the power he has, and he couldn’t do anything but watch me as I lay there, not movin
g… He remembers a battle with Cinder and the others that didn’t happen. He remembers me helping him.
“Tell me you’re okay,” he says.
I nod. “I’m okay,” I say, voice working this time. “Where are we?”
“I brought you back to my place. I finally got you in my bed.” He laughs, then shakes his head. “You scared me.”
His place. Where they’ll find him. I force myself to smile. “I’ll be fine. Just need to rest. It’s always like this when I push myself. Give me a second, and I’ll get up.”
“No,” he says. He’s worried about me. He leans over, and kisses me.
I kiss him back. It’s a gentle kiss, but I can tell he’d like it to be deeper. He’s just afraid of hurting me. No one has kissed me like this in a long time. He pulls away.
I breathe for a second. “We have to get out of here,” I hear my own voice, and it sounds like it’s coming from far away.
“What? Why?” He leans back.
Change his mind. Those were my only instructions, but I know what else was implied.
“They know where you live,” I say. Just like that, I’ve made the choice. Keeping him here would be child’s play. I could turn him over to the others. To Jeff. “Cinder. The rest of them. It’s only a matter of time. I just need a second, and then I can get up.”
He scoops me up, almost effortlessly. Aleph is strong. His hands are shaking though.
“We’ll find a place,” he says. He’s already walking. “We’ll lay low. You’re right—we’ll do it your way from now on. At least for a while. Jesus, I thought… I love you. Don’t you dare do anything like that again.”
The Lavender Menace Page 12