by Sarah Noffke
“I had guessed that you had telepathy linked to touch before,” Connor said, pushing off the wall.
“Well, now you know,” Adelaide said. The only thing in the room was the GAD-C. It was the main one the Lucidites used for transport, but the room suddenly felt too small.
“When you said you had most of your father’s skills, I assumed that was one of them,” Connor said.
“What do you want, a pat on the head? His skills are detailed in the Dream Traveler Codex, which also states that there’s a genetic component to Dream Traveler gifts. Don’t make yourself out to be Sherlock Holmes,” Adelaide said, sliding off the bed of the GAD-C.
He didn’t say anything, only regarded her with a stare that seemed to seek to dissect her. She instinctively felt that he could do many things with that stare. Maybe even put her back together. She shook her head at that absurd thought. It was just that at Parantaa Research, when they touched, communicated, it had been so easy. Not an invasion, like it always felt before. For once her gift didn’t feel like a curse.
“I’m not sorry that I hugged you,” Connor said, pressing his hands into his jean pockets. He was always doing that, she observed. It was like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“Next time you might be sorry you hugged me,” Adelaide said. “I’ve been known to clock people for touching me.”
“You have the ability of mind control and you resort to lowly violence,” Connor said, clicking his tongue at her and shaking his head.
“I didn’t always know that I had mind control. I just thought that people strangely did the things I wanted. I didn’t even understand my telepathy linked to touch until I met Ren,” she said, again wondering why she was sharing so much with Connor. How did she find herself in these conversations with him?
“That must have been confusing,” he said.
She went to shrug and stopped herself. In the book that morning she’d read,
“Only losers shrug. If you know yourself and your situation then you shouldn’t resort to a gesture that means ‘I don’t know.’ Always know. Know yourself. Know your situation.”
“It was pretty impressive how seamlessly we were able to work together at Parantaa Research,” Connor said.
“I didn’t notice,” Adelaide said, walking past him for the exit.
“I think you did,” Connor said, making her turn back to him. “I think you’re used to shoving people away because your gift makes intimacy difficult. But it doesn’t—”
“Don’t pretend you can understand what it’s like to have my bloody gift,” she said, cutting him off. “I don’t need your false observations. Just because I heard your thoughts and acted off of them doesn’t mean we work together. And don’t you fucking tell the others that I have telepathy linked to touch.”
“Because that’s how you gain advantages over others?” Connor said, not looking deterred.
Adelaide’s insides squirmed with awkwardness when she looked directly at Connor, his green eyes bright with curiosity. She tried to forget what she’d heard in his thoughts when he hugged her, but it seemed to be written across his face now.
“I just prefer to keep my gifts private. It’s bad enough that most of the Lucidites know I’m Ren’s daughter,” she said.
He nodded. “I think I’d be proud if he was my father. I’d be wearing that association like a badge.”
“You wouldn’t if you knew some of the things he did. His power came with a price. He murdered, stole, and cheated. Not to mention he broke every universal law when he died,” she said.
“But he didn’t really die, didn’t you say?”
“Right, yeah, it’s complicated,” she said.
“I’d like to learn more about this complicated thing that was a big part of your past. I’d just like to know more in general about you…” Connor said, stepping forward as Adelaide took a step backward toward the exit. “And I’ll add, I’ve never cared to learn about anyone.”
Adelaide shook her head. “I’ve never wanted to share anything about myself with anyone and with you that’s no different,” she lied, turning and leaving as fast as her flats would carry her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, in hopes, through many, to make sure of one.”
- William Congreve
The low bluish light of the strategic department filled Adelaide’s chest with gross sentimentality. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the space, which was designed by her father. While at Parantaa Research she found herself squinting from the bright lights and stark white walls and floors. Now she had a new respect for the Lucidite Institute with its stainless steel walls and iridescent blue carpet.
“Where’s the suit, Little Red?” Kaleb said, pointing at her cargo pants.
“I put it in your room. The skirt will look much better on you, Runt,” she said. He was sitting in a conference room off the main one, a case opened in front of him. Adelaide glanced over her shoulder where the other strategic agents could be heard conversing nearby.
“You know, you really need to go through training,” she said to Kaleb, who had bypassed the required training due to his skill.
“Trent says I don’t have to,” Kaleb said, threading his fingers together behind his head and leaning back.
“Yeah, well, I think that it will go a long way to integrate you into the department,” she said, tucking the file under her arm.
“Oh, now I’m getting social advice from the red sheep?” Kaleb said with a laugh.
“There’s choosing to be separate and then there’s being ostracized because you’ve been given special treatment. And that’s not even the main reason I think you should complete training. It was required for a reason. I even had to go through it,” she said, remembering how irritated it made her when her father didn’t make exceptions for her. Later Adelaide realized that was because he wanted her to stay alive and an untrained agent is a dead one.
“Look, if I get into trouble then I’ll stop time and fix things to my advantage. I realize that lowly agents such as yourself have to resort to combat training and whatnot, but God just made me special,” Kaleb said, that usual wolfish grin on his face.
“God made you an idiot,” Adelaide said. “Now I want you to take off your shirt and run into the main conference room, jump up on the table, and beat your chest like a monkey. Then return here and apologize for being a bloody git.”
At the conclusion of Adelaide’s words, laced with strong intention, Kaleb rose automatically from the table. He pulled up his shirt as he ran for the conference room. Through the glass walls she watched him do just as she’d commanded. And because she was trying to teach him an important lesson she had made the mind control blatant, not a mere suggestion. Mind control done with suggestions was discreet and usually not traceable. That was how her father had taught her how to hide the fact that she’d taken over someone.
The agents around the table doubled over in laughter that didn’t stop when Kaleb hopped down from the table and ran from the room. Kaleb returned, bare-chested and brow sweating, a moment later. “I’m sorry,” he said, and then his glassed over expression faded. “Wait… what just happened?” Shaking his head, he put his shirt back on.
“You just learned that you’re not so special. I can control most people in the field, but even I can be caught, hence the whole Parantaa Research thing. My mind control didn’t work on Drake and something similar could prevent you from relying on your ability to stop time. I heavily suggest you complete training,” she said, thumping a file down on the table.
“Dang, mind control. That’s wicked cool,” Kaleb said.
“Would you get a fucking dictionary and expand your vocabulary with proper words?” Adelaide said.
“Hey,” Kaleb said, his eyes moving back and forth but not seeming to see. “At Parantaa Research you seemed to communicate with Connor without saying anything. Are you telepathic as well?”
“Yes, I do think it
’s a good idea if you forget that part of the rescue mission. Go right ahead,” she said, using the power of suggestive mind control.
He nodded, the dull expression returning to his brown eyes. “Okay,” he said.
“Now, on to other business. We have a situation and I think you might be in a position to help us defuse it,” she said, opening the file.
“You need me on a case? Tell me when and where you need me to pause time and what you need me to do,” Kaleb said, eagerly rubbing his hands together.
“See, this is what I meant. Not all situations can be fixed with stopping time,” she said and pointed at a newspaper article. A woman with soft shoulder-length curls was front and center on the top photo, a herd of people behind her holding protest posters. On the signs were a wolf’s face and a big red X over it. The title read, “Mormon Church Protests Werewolves.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Kaleb said, grabbing the file from in front of Adelaide. “That’s my mother.” His eyes widened before a loose expression of sentimentality flocked to them.
“Exactly. She apparently organized all these protests and campaigns secretly, recruiting a huge number of followers,” Adelaide said.
“She’s very influential with the church,” he said, his eyes scanning the article.
“Yes, and religion binds the crazies together. Anyway, your mother is reporting that your father was murdered by a werewolf, although we know it was Morgan, who is now dead. Furthermore, she says she watched a silver and black werewolf attack a man in her front yard,” Adelaide said, her voice matter-of-fact. She almost sounded grown up.
“Zephyr. She was watching when he attacked Morgan,” he said, a dawning on his face.
“Good for you, you can follow along and retain information,” Adelaide said. “Now, you don’t want to go through training, but you also don’t want to dance on conference room tables anymore. Therefore, I want you to figure out how to defuse this situation. You know how your mother thinks and how the church operates. This has gotten too big for us to resolve with memory erasers. You need to create a solution that will take the attention off of the crazies and therefore keep your and the pack’s identity under wraps. The last thing we need is more mania over werewolves.”
Chapter Thirty
“. . . there was about him a suggestion of lurking ferocity, as though the Wild still lingered in him and the wolf in him merely slept.”
- Jack London
The massive man stood with his shoulders hunched over. Luolamies’s weight had doubled since the beginning of Project Neandertalin. Now the man, who hardly resembled one, was as wide from shoulder to shoulder as a door frame.
Mika nodded Haiku beside Luolamies. He then pointed at the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. “Punch,” Haiku said to the caveman. Mika had Luolamies trained and now he could follow simple orders. And although he showed a propensity toward violence and anger, his behavior had been curved through shock treatment. Men were simply dogs and easily trained if the right method was implemented.
Luolamies stomped forward once and launched his giant fist at the black punching bag. It rose off its chains and flew five feet up in the opposite direction. The bag then came back with incredible speed and knocked into Luolamies, who merely stumbled backward a few feet. The assault turned his eyes into daggers and he roared, bolting toward the bag that was swaying now. Haiku tapped a button in his hand and Luolamies immediately paused, convulsing from a shock originating from the device in his neck. His giant hand clapped to the side of his neck as he fell forward from the electricity generated from within. When he appeared calm Haiku said, “Luolamies, stand.”
At once the beast of a man pushed up to his feet, grunting as he did.
“We have a new clairvoyant report,” Drake said at Mika’s shoulder.
He turned to find Isha beside the old scientist, her hand resting on the side of her head.
“What is it?” Mika said.
“Isha saw Malcolm Edwards. He gets thrown out of a casino in Las Vegas,” Drake said, handing a file over to his boss. “This happens tonight, off the main strip.”
Mika nodded, turning to the caveman. “Luolamies,” he said, pulling the picture of Malcolm from the file. “You get this man. Okay?”
“He’s not ready,” Drake said at Mika’s back.
Mika turned at once, scolding Drake with a single look. “I don’t believe that’s your decision. You are to conduct the experiment and I assign them how I see fit.’’
“But his behavior is still too erratic. I don’t think it’s a good—”
“I don’t care what you think,” Mika said and spun back around, extending the file to Haiku, who stood a safe distance from Luolamies. “Take this and chaperone Luolamies to Las Vegas. I want you to bring Malcolm Edwards back.”
“I could go. There’s some way I’m sure I could help,” said Kris, who had been invisible and flickered into solid form a few feet away.
“Kris,” Mika said, drawing out her name into multiple syllables. “What have I said about sneaking around while invisible? You must really want to join your brother.”
“How dare you?” she said, her hand flying to her mouth.
Yes, throwing her dead brother in her face was cruel, but she was going to have to learn or Mika would make good on his threat. She was becoming too much of a liability. “And no, I’m quite certain that there’s no way you can help. This isn’t a reconnaissance mission. Now leave my sight before I decide to punish you.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Everybody needs his memories.
They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.”
- Saul Bellow
Adelaide couldn’t shake the strange events in the lab. A lot had happened at Parantaa Research that she was having trouble understanding. Although she couldn’t explain the beakers flying off the countertops since no one else was in the room, she thought she knew someone who could help her with something else.
“I agree that Adelaide is the coolest British chic in the Institute,” Aiden said, so loud Adelaide could hear it from the hallway. She rounded the corner to find Aiden standing with his hand on his hip and unabashed glee on his face. Beside him Roya was sitting on a work bench, looking bored.
“Let me guess. Roya just had a flash that I was about to show up?” Adelaide said. Aiden was too nice. He really was the yin to Roya’s yang.
“Right you are,” Aiden said, firing a finger gun at her. “We should get the kids together. Have a play date since the boys are the same age.”
“Even if I wasn’t at all busy, the answer would be no. Your wife is as boring as a jigsaw puzzle and you’re as over-excitable as a terrier,” Adelaide said, blowing a piece of hair off of her face.
“Why thank you,” Aiden chirped.
“And I am extremely busy and not here to chat about robots. I saw something at Parantaa Research and need you to tell me what you think of it,” Adelaide said, pulling the drawing she’d done from her book. Before finding her father and becoming an agent, she’d wanted to be an artist and her skill showed that. The drawing on the paper was spot on based on what she saw. She had her photographic memory to thank for that as well.
“For the love of holy science!” Aiden exclaimed, pressing his index and pointer fingers to his mouth. “You saw one of these? At Parantaa Research? Are you sure?”
Although she wanted to insult Aiden for doubting what she saw, that’s exactly what Adelaide had been doing ever since she returned. Aliens didn’t exist in her framework of the world. However, why not? Ghosts were real. Illusions could be produced. She could time travel. Her father was immortal in another realm. Why couldn’t aliens be real? “Yes, I saw this, exactly as you see it in the picture,” she said, remembering the jolt that initially rocked her core when she saw the alien, or whatever it was, for the first time.
“This is an Arcturian.” The scientist’s eyes showed his awe as he studied the picture of the greenish-skinned alien with almond-shaped eyes and
three fingers.
“Wait, you know the name off the top of your head? I didn’t realize aliens were your specialty. Actually, I didn’t even think aliens were real. Kind of figured you’d need to research this,” Adelaide said.
“Well, I have to admit that my knowledge on these beings is limited, but I assure you that aliens exist. Actually, these guys,” he said, tapping the paper, “have a pretty strong following among some groups because they are considered powerful. However, most of what is heard is rumors. A sighting is rare.”
Adelaide realized in that moment that her world, which she didn’t think could get any stranger, imploded with peculiarity. Why was this such a strange concept for her to digest? She was on a case to rescue werewolves, but all of a sudden she couldn’t assimilate aliens into her world?
“It’s kind of beautiful,” Roya said, leaning over to take a look at the drawing.
“Yeah, they were keeping it in a case full of liquid,” Adelaide said. “We might be able to dream travel to study it but first, what can you tell me about this Arcturian?”
“Well, offhand,” Aiden said, drumming his finger to his lips, “they are incredibly intelligent beings and have telepathy and telekinesis. They don’t get sick and live up to four hundred years. Oh, and something interesting is their food is a liquid substance that restores their body.”
“That’s what you can offer offhand about a random alien species?” Adelaide looked at Roya. “Your husband is so bloody dumb.”
“Tell me about it,” Roya said dryly.
“So now the question is, what does Mika plan to do with this Arcturian?” Adelaide said, taking the paper back from Aiden.
“Study it, no doubt, but the possibilities are endless. No one has had one of these in quite a while, that I’m aware of. Like I said, a sighting is considered a rare phenomenon. Having the actual body of an Arcturian, well, I’ve only heard of one such case in the past,” Aiden said.