Allie's War Season One (36 page)

A WOLF RUNS across the tundra, tongue flicking over black lips, body elongating in rhythmic waves. It extends to full stride and retracts, stretching paws so that none of its feet touch the ground. Insanity flickers behind its eyes, joy in its feet pounding the snow in steady bursts of powder.

It runs at a single dark form marring the white plain.

I scream, my voice torn by wind.

...and again dawn colors the sky, and a dark shape burns in the distance, filling the pale blue with a curl of smoke like expelled ink. My chest feels as if someone’s taken an ice pick to it, hitting it again and again, digging out the tender light at its core.

It is a feeling worse than death.

I JERKED AWAKE. Warm weight pinned me to something soft. I started to struggle...then looked down, saw an arm. It took another series of blinks before I recognized the silver ring he wore around his smallest finger.

Then I remembered.

Grief came without warning, with a depth and intensity I had no way to evade. Days had gone by and it wouldn’t let up...wouldn’t let me forget for more than seconds at a time. Everything amplified, got harder to control. Revik told me that was normal too, part of ‘the awakening’ around me being a seer...and I fought a near-violent reaction towards him and all of the seers as I replayed his words like a dead-sounding record.

He’d been the bearer of a lot of bad news lately.

...found her in her house. She’d been dead several hours, Allie. Most of her blood was gone...

Behind me, his arm tightened around me lengthwise. His fingers wrapped around my shoulder, drawing my back snugly against his chest.

His voice had been soft as he translated for the infiltration team in San Francisco, not leaving anything out, not embellishing.

As he spoke, I’d seen and heard what they found as they picked their way through Mom’s house like shadows among the SFPD. Images accompanied his words...my mother’s eyes staring up from where she lay by the television below a section of wall painted in her blood. A child’s hand print stood out, small and innocuous-looking, like the outline of a Thanksgiving turkey painting made in kindergarten. Someone had eaten a sandwich and left the crusts on Jon’s old Transformers plate on the low coffee table beside the body, along with a half-full glass of milk. The bedroom showed signs of a struggle, sheets half on the floor, a lamp broken.

The cops took pictures of a dark stain on the carpet by the lamp.

They took pictures of another rust-colored hand print on the refrigerator door, that one larger. They photographed the body from every possible angle, then zipped it up in a bag, like the garbage Mom always forgot to put on the curb.

I felt the weight of guilt on Revik as he relayed details ruthlessly...but I didn’t blame him.

My mom’s safety couldn’t possibly have been his priority. It should have been mine.

The news media agreed. Within an hour, the feeds began accusing me of matricide, saying I’d allied with seer terrorists against
homo sapiens,
arguing on talk platforms about whether other seers brainwashed me or if I masterminded the whole thing. The police claimed to have DNA proof that I’d done the actual killing, as well as evidence that a male seer, possibly more than one, had ejaculated in my mother’s bed while Mom lay dying.

That last part, Revik said, was deliberately crafted to incite public outrage.

It didn’t make it any easier to hear.

We sat on the couch in the small ship’s cabin for hours that first night. He led me there before he told me anything.

Sitting me down, he peeled the prosthetics off my face carefully, throwing them one by one into a small trashcan while I watched. He indicated for me to remove the contact lenses. Once I had, he threw those away as well.

He pulled me to him then, holding me against his chest as if to contain something that might otherwise explode outward, coating the cabin walls with their seashell wallpaper and bland paintings. After he’d gotten the initial reports back from Chandre—the small, muscular, female seer with long black braids and frightening-looking reddish eyes who commanded the shipboard guard—I still hadn’t been able to cry. I had no idea if he drugged me, or used his light to get my vigil to finally end. But eventually I fell asleep.

That had been days ago.

The cruise ship docked at least once during that time, letting human tourists off for shore excursions and kayaking, trips to see wooden totem poles carved as eagles and bear spirits, and authentic salmon bakes with real Native Americans.

Revik parked me in front of a media player with a remote, the room service menu, and a list of pay-per-view channels. I’d flipped through listlessly before settling on a bland comedy with a talking dog and two teenagers who were lost...somewhere.

Now, it was dark outside again.

I heard the sound of water being pushed out of the way by the ship’s prow, churning an inexorable wake. The glass door to the balcony stood propped open, a single orange bulb glowing over its frame, illuminating spray-filled wind.

Revik disliked enclosed spaces, I’d learned, especially while he slept. Air always had to be flowing from somewhere, no matter how cold. He’d sat with me again that night, once he got back from one of his wanders outside the cabin.

After what felt like hours where we curled up together on the couch, he got up, stretched, and left me sitting alone on one end like a posable doll. He went through cabinets, searching drawers and in-built closets along the curved walls and even in the bathroom.

I had no idea what he was looking for, until he emerged with a bottle of vodka and a gun.

I’d laughed aloud.

He aimed a quizzical look in my direction until I motioned for him to pass over the vodka, which he’d done reluctantly. Taking the bottle back as I started to open it with my fingers, he poured me a glass, watched me down it in a single shot. He poured me one more, and while I drank it, the bottle promptly disappeared. I didn’t see where, although I watched him, fighting a head rush from the alcohol, so tired I literally couldn’t make myself stand, though I’d barely moved all day and badly needed the toilet.

Taking my arm, he’d pulled me to my feet.

Opening a series of drawers, he grabbed the tank top, underwear and sweats I wore now before steering me into the bathroom and laying the clothes on the sink.

Seeing him about to speak, possibly to say something more meaningful than I could handle right then, I pointed at the clothes.

“Are those mine?” I actually recognized the shirt.

He nodded. “Ullysa took care of it.”

I felt a strange surge. “Oh.”

He felt where my head was going. “Before, Allie. While your family was still being questioned by SCARB and the Feds.” He hesitated. “Do you need help? You should take a shower.”

After a pause that stretched longer than it should have, I shook my head.

Studying my eyes a few seconds longer, Revik let go of my arm and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Fingering the clothes still on my body, I realized those were mine too. I wondered how long I’d worn them, and replayed Revik’s comment about a shower. That was probably his way of telling me I stank.

I felt broken; I couldn’t believe how broken I was.

My mind tried to wrap around what that meant, to snap out of it, while I showered. The room had filled with steam by the time I finally came out, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

It had, though. He already lay on the bed, his pale legs sprawled on the coverlet beneath gray sweat shorts. His legs were muscular, I noticed, with a fine coating of dark hair. He caught me staring.

“It’ll be cold,” I said. “With the door open.”

He gestured me over, not speaking. I followed the motion of his hands in something like resignation. Other than guilt, I didn’t know what motivated him, but I couldn’t make myself care enough to ask him to stop. I let him hold me, thinking I’d never sleep after sleeping all day, then...nothing else.

He’d been talking to me, even then. I don’t remember anything he said.

Outside, black sky beckoned.

Pulling his fingers off me gently, I slid out from under his arm, shivering at another curl of wind that gusted through the cracked door to the balcony. I angled my legs off the bed, touching my feet to the carpeted floor, trying not to move the mattress as I regained my feet.

Sliding through the gap in the glass door, I walked across our room’s small balcony. My toes curled when they met the icy deck. Gripping the railing, I looked out over white and dark churning ocean before letting my gaze travel up.

Stars met the horizon in a cluster of pinpricks, creating a curved black bowl.

I blinked, tracing the swath of the Milky Way as I listened to faint music from other decks. A whisper from the Barrier showed me bars, casinos, hot tubs, restaurants, a dance club. I saw maps inside the construct I swam through, what might have been tracers of the various guards moving through the ship, some of them on duty, some off.

I didn’t care about any of it.

My gaze drifted a few balconies over, to where a lithe form stood alone by a painted rail. I glimpsed the telltale cheekbones of Chandre framed by thin, black braids. She stood unnaturally still. It wasn’t the stillness of a living being, but that of a boulder, or a parked car.

Then warm fingers touched my bare shoulder and I nearly shrieked.

Feeling him, I turned, relaxing even more when I saw his face.

I watched his gaze follow mine to the adjacent balcony. He stared at the other seer, and I wondered briefly if they were talking...then I remembered Kat and wondered something else.

His pale eyes shifted back to mine.

His fingers ran lightly down my arm, then wound around my hand.

“What are you doing?” he said, quiet.

I shivered, staring down at our joined hands.

Thinking about his question, I pointed up. His gaze followed mine and I saw his expression grow less hard as he took in the wash of stars. He continued to stand there, not moving. When the wind rose, I felt him shift the angle of his body so that it shielded more of mine.

Something in the warmth of having him near brought the emotions back without warning. I felt that kicking at my heart begin again, the feeling I’d woken to, mixed with a silent photograph of a decomposing eye staring through matted, dark hair I used to like to tug on with my fingers when I was a kid.

He wrapped his arms around me.

“You need to cry,” he said. “Why don’t you cry?”

I didn’t have an answer.

“Do you want someone else here? A female?”

“No.” I cleared my throat, then shook my head. “No, I want you here.” I gripped his arm tighter. “But I need something from you.” When he drew back, I studied his face. Seeing the taut look there, I smiled, but without humor.

It didn’t take much to arouse his paranoia, I’d also learned.

“Tracking,” I clarified, releasing his arm. “Shielding. I can’t stand being this helpless...and I’ll lose my mind for real if I spend another day in bed.”

I felt him think. Interest grew in his light.

“Tomorrow?” he said.

I nodded. I leaned into him again and felt him react, as he sometimes did...but he only tensed until the feeling faded in both of us. I knew I was taking advantage, letting things blur so much. I wondered if he’d even give me sex if I asked, if only to distract me.

I felt his breath pause.

“Is that what you want?” he said, low.

His words vibrated his chest against my ear, but I heard every one. I considered pretending I hadn’t.

“No,” I told him instead.

I felt him hesitate, but his relief was palpable...palpable enough to make me feel worse.

I let my embarrassment be there, knowing he felt it, unable to do anything about that, either. Pride became meaningless when everyone could read your mind; you could either accept being pathetic in hundreds of unexpected, unacknowledged ways...or go crazy.

He withdrew slightly from our embrace, then slid his light into mine as if to compensate, merging into me until I couldn’t move. I got lost there, like wandering into a vast space with no walls or corners. No sexuality lived behind it, nothing but warmth and light, like being immersed in steaming water. He relaxed more, willing me further in. I started to react but managed to dull it, aided by the fact that I didn’t feel anything from him other than calm as he leaned into me.