Legacy (24 page)

Freak
. He kissed me.

Four Arms.

Another group shout came from inside the building and we returned to watch the rest of the game.

We called in to Ganzfield for another Isaiah update, and then Drew and Harrison went to pick up dinner at the front gate, which we had delivered from a local Chinese restaurant. We ate around another little fire; the building components had been packed with wooden pallets and spacers so we had a huge pile of scrap. After dinner, Drew tore open a bag of marshmallows and the sparks toasted their own by focusing the heat from their minds. Afterwards, only two of them needed Hannah to heal their burned hands.

Trevor used his ability to hold two marshmallows over a glowing red part of the fire until they turned golden brown and melted inside. He gave me one, ate the other, and then repeated the process. Hannah, Zack, and Ann stretched out wire coat-hangers as impromptu skewers.

The moment’s tranquility made me smile, but it fell off my face as I suddenly remembered what Coleman had told Trevor and me.
We’re getting some visitors this weekend
.

“Visitors?” asked Drew.

Coleman and at least two other G-positives who are still in New York. They’ll be flying out here, so don’t pull their helicopter out of the sky. Williamson’s cut off the dodecamine supply to everyone who’s not here or at Ganzfield. They need boosters, so they have to come to us.
I looked across the circle.
Hey, Zack? Zack? ZACK!
He and Ann were encased in the same silvery glow.
Aww.
I’d get the business stuff wrapped up quickly so they could get back to each other.
We have access to the meds here, right?

“
I
do.” His inflection slightly emphasized the “I” part. I bit my lip and swallowed my scowl. I didn’t need to be in charge of everything. Really.

Hannah? Will two four-cc vials do it?

“Better get more. You’re also due for a booster tomorrow, and Ann needs hers Monday. We’re also supposed to restock the Ganzfield infirmary when we go back. With all the extra people there, they’ve gone through the majority of our supply.”

Zack nodded. “No problem.”

Ann?
Want to check if we have the distance right?

She blushed as she nodded. Tonight, she wanted her mental privacy as much as I wanted mine—possibly even more.

I walked into the new building, now dark inside except for the tepid light from the rectangle of the door. Ann went in the opposite direction, toward her tent, mimicking the old cell phone ad,
“Can you hear me now?”

She faded away for about half a minute, and then came back.
Did you hear me?

I think we’re good.

She and Zack retreated to her tent. We planned to shift all the watches forward each night, which meant that Trevor and I were on-duty now, and Zack and Ann would take the last watch of the morning. The first watch of the evening was easy—people were still awake so we could hang out and talk. It wasn’t like we were palace guards, standing at attention in little alcoves and wearing furry hats shaped like Q-tips. But after the attack at Ganzfield, we needed to have someone awake and alert at all times—just in case. I felt like I was playing soldier or something in our little tarp fort.

But this was real—a secret war.

I pulled back the edge of a tarp and glanced at the few remaining lit windows in the buildings outside. I hadn’t heard any thoughts from the strangers outside our little enclosure today, although the pressure at the edges of my consciousness let me know they were there. In large groups—like in cities—it really built to a roar. Here, at this distance, I could tune it out, like the hum of an air conditioner.

I rejoined the group at the fire. Trevor had just finished checking in with the RVs up at Ganzfield.
Isaiah hasn’t moved.
Tendrils of concern flowed through him as he took the cell phone to recharge in one of the trailers.

I frowned. What if this plan didn’t work? What if he didn’t come for us here? What would Isaiah do? What were we missing?

“Hannah, you’re a healer, so you’ll know.” Claire leaned forward. “Is it true that Matilda enhanced Isaiah’s G-positive abilities?”

Hannah’s face became a cool mask, but little yellow spikes of anxiety filled her as she shook her head. “She won’t do it again. She refuses.”

Claire frowned. “But if someone could become more powerful—stronger—couldn’t it be really helpful?”

“Matilda thinks it’s dangerous and unethical.” Hannah met my eyes. Memories flashed across her mind and I drew in a heavy breath. We’d both been there when we’d found Charlie Fontaine dead—the top of his head cut off. We now knew that’d been part of Isaiah’s “research” into stealing abilities, and we’d both seen the tortures Morris had suffered to coerce Matilda’s cooperation, although I’d only seen it secondhand through Rachel’s visions. I’d been running off to get my brain fried when Hannah and the others had been pulling Morris to safety.

Matilda’s been looking for a way to get my speech back, at least partially.
But it involves messing with my head again, so I’m kinda freaked out about it. And that’s just restoring a basic capacity that billions of people have. If she’s against doing dangerous, experimental brain alterations, I’m not going to argue with her.
Isaiah was completely unbalanced now, and it could be due to what Matilda had done to him—or what I’d done.

“Her idea for restoring your Broca’s area is pretty interesting, though.” Hannah avoided looking at Claire as she swung gratefully into the subject change. “She wants to train a series of neurons to re-populate that area of your brain. Once the structure is back in place, she thinks you could re-learn to talk in a year or two of intense speech therapy.”

Ugh. A year of intense speech therapy sounded tedious and difficult.
Those trained neurons—
they sounded like performing circus animals. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Maddie Dunn and her Trained Neurons!”
—Don’t they already have something to do?

“She’s hopeful that you wouldn’t see much of a decline in other functions. The hard part is figuring out how to get the neurons to re-populate the burnt-out area. Neurons can migrate throughout the brain, but we’re not sure how to control the process. You even lost the blood supply there. It’d take a lot of energy and finesse to repair it.”

And then I would have at least a year of intense speech therapy—and it might not work. Or it might only partially work, and other functions might get messed up.
My hope of someday speaking again was pretty weak. I actually
did
know what they were up against. Williamson had made sure I knew a lot about neurology.

Most of the time, I just wanted to move on. My ability to speak was gone, but I was still here and I could still do a lot of other things.
Very glass-half-full.
But the nagging idea kept coming back to me, tickling the back of my mind.

Do it. Fix it. There might be a way to be whole again.

If I didn’t have telepathy, I’m sure I’d’ve been desperate enough for an experimental treatment, but I didn’t want to risk more damage on such a dubious option. I frowned at the twitchy, anxious feeling that crawled through me. Had I made a bad decision? Maybe I should let Matilda try. She
had
been able to give Isaiah extra abilities—she could do amazing things. She’d even treated Archer’s end-stage cancer. If he’d been younger, he probably would’ve been okay. And a year of speech therapy might not be too terrible—not if I could actually talk normally again at the end of it.

My gut tightened. But what if the treatment didn’t work? What if I ended up losing more mental functions? I knew Matilda considered that a possible outcome, too, especially with the increased risks I already faced as a rapid-burner. I squeezed my eyes shut. Ugh. I hated the idea of gambling with my brain.

Never bet more than you can afford to lose.

Trevor and I headed into the new building when Drew and Harrison took over guard duty at 10 p.m. Dave, Claire, Hannah, and Jonah drifted away from the circle, but Ellen and Melanie continued to play with the fire with Drew and Harrison. The light cast by the flames changed from a bright yellow to an electric blue, dimming it and throwing dramatic, purple-tinged shadows against the side of the building.

Trevor set up his air mattress in the center of the large, echoing space. The lingering smell of burnt cloth hung in the too-warm air, along with the oily and metallic scents of construction. My battery lantern cast a tepid circle of light as I set my stuff in the corner farthest from Ann’s end of the compound. I slid down onto my sleeping bag with a sigh.

Meet you in Aruba?

I felt the smile in his thoughts.
Count on it.

This isn’t Aruba.

A wave of cold passed through me as I realized I was inside a mansion of glass. I stood in the foyer, looking through wide doors at motionless people posed like mannequins. But these weren’t hostile strangers. My mom, Rachel, Drew, Sean, Ann, Jon, Hannah, Ellen—their fear
screamed out to me. I ran toward them, feeling slow and powerless. My breath caught as tar-black energy flowed across the floor. Sean cried out as the thick, oily substance slid up him and his burning agony seared through me. His shriek cut off as it enveloped his head. I felt my own scream building as his shape dissolved into the ooze, but I couldn’t draw enough breath to make a sound. The liquid obscenity spread to the others—their pain burned through me and I crumpled to my knees. I saw something behind the ooze—a golden glow. The shape within became clear as he moved closer.

Isaiah.

The ooze encased Rachel last and her pain and fear stabbed through me. The glow around Isaiah dimmed as her shape dissolved into oily energy—energy that flowed back toward Isaiah. He paused as the wave of death reached his feet. It surrounded him, sliding up his legs and body, but it didn’t dissolve him. Instead, Isaiah grew larger as he absorbed the liquid. His giant form loomed over me. There seemed to be flames behind his eyes as his gaze burned into my soul. Horror held me in place, as though I’d grown roots.

You don’t stand a chance against me, little girl. You never did.

Monstrous, obsidian hands reached for me. I felt my lungs fight to draw in enough breath to scream—only to have the air knocked out of them as Trevor pushed me out of the way. Isaiah also flew across the room, landing with a thud and sliding across the hardwood floor. His head snapped up, targeting Trevor like a predator.

Trevor grabbed my hand. “C’mon!”

I rolled up off the floor and into his arms. He held me tightly as the dreamscape dissolved around us. I kept my face buried against his chest and tried to stop sobbing. I heard the waves and felt the warm ocean breeze. Trevor’s hands stroked my hair. I finally lifted my head.

Aruba. Better late than never.

I sighed, feeling a little stupid for letting a dream get to me like this. Everything was okay now.

The wind picked up, turning icy. A line of charcoal clouds covered the horizon and raced toward us. I felt Trevor’s arms tense around me and we gasped at the same moment.

The waves—they’d turned black.

Oily energy flowed with the surf, riding up onto the beach. It kept coming, creeping spider-quick up the sand. Trevor pulled at me, trying to get me to run, but the dark wave touched me, surged through me, both freezing and burning my soul—

I shot up with a cry lodged in my throat.

Dark.

My entire body trembled violently and I felt cold despite the warm summer night.

Just a dream.

I fumbled to turn my camping lantern back on, needing to reconnect with the light. In the middle of the floor, Trevor still slept undisturbed. I rubbed my face with my hands.

Just a stupid dream.

Morning sunlight fell across me from the skylight above, and the beginnings of a caffeine headache stirred behind my eyes. My hair rat-nested around my head and I stifled a groan. I felt more exhausted now than when I’d gone to sleep.

Trevor’s dream was…
wow
. Erotic. Hypnotic. Why couldn’t I’ve had
that
kind of dream last night? A rush of red energy raced across my skin as I watched. My breath caught and I yearned to cross the room and simply join in, taking the place of my dream-self. Instead, I lay back and let Trevor’s dream fill me with—

Crap!
My eyes flew open. I felt Ann’s mental presence outside as she tried to focus on
anything
else. I flushed with yet another hot, intense emotion—this time embarrassment—as I jumped up and took Trevor’s hand, using the connection to bring up our shared shield. The contact woke him and he pulled me into his arms.

Sorry I woke you. I was enjoying your dream. But Ann’s too close.

Trevor frowned.
That’s not the only thing bothering you. What’s wrong?

Just a creepy dream.

Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that it was more than that?

Trevor took our gear out of the building for the day, stowing it in my tent outside. We didn’t want anything singed if the sparks wanted to use the “arena” again.

Now what?
After the rush to get down here and put Williamson’s plan into motion, we really had nothing to do.

Hurry up and wait.

Trevor called and checked in with Rachel over breakfast.

“He’s still there.” Her voice sounded brittle. How hard was it on her to watch the man she
hated
for hours? Isaiah’d had her Uncle Charlie killed. His people had shot Sean. It must be hellish. “He hasn’t left the house in Phoenix. He spends most of his time on the computer. It looks like he’s building a website or something, but I’m not…I can’t see things as clearly as I used to these days. The details are kind of a blur.”