Lethal Engagement (An Unbounded Novella) (15 page)

“I don’t know,” she panted. “I can’t breathe. I felt dizzy all of a sudden. I threw up in the hallway.” Her pale eyes were wide with fear.

Patrick sat next to her and pulled something from his pocket that I recognized immediately: a portable neural transmitter. He set the device over his ear, forming a wireless connection from his brain to his computers—wherever they were.

“It’s poisoning,” said the Secret Serviceman.

I wished I could remember his name. “How do you know?”

“Sudden symptoms, her clammy skin.”

Patrick leaned close to Lucinda. “Did something bite you?”

“No.” She gave a little sob and released her stomach, clinging to his hands instead. “I was just downstairs helping Susan with the food. I came up to tell you it was ready in the dining room. I—” She stopped talking, her eyes going wide. “Oh, no!”

“What?” Patrick demanded.

A sob shook Lucinda. “I tasted the chicken.”

“We have to get her to the hospital!” Patrick’s voice was panicked. His neural transmitter blinked rapidly.

“Please don’t let me die, Patrick.” Lucinda was choking now, as if every second put her closer to death.

“I won’t. You’re going to be fine.” Patrick slid closer, taking her in his arms. “Luce, sweetie, I need you to calm down. Help is on the way. Just breathe slowly.” Lucinda’s only answer was her eyes rolling up in her head in unconsciousness, which might be the best thing for her at this point.

“Why was she helping with the food?” the Secret Service agent asked. If he was surprised to see Patrick holding Lucinda like a lover, he didn’t show it.

“I don’t know, Chance,” Patrick’s lip curled. “Maybe it was because
your
agent didn’t show up today to help my cook.”

Special Agent Chance,
I remembered.
That’s his name.

Agent Chance jumped to his feet, surprisingly nimble despite his bulk. “Our agent arrived before we left for the school.” He spoke into his lapel transmitter, “Status check.” No reply. “Hey, everyone okay down there?” Still no answer. Chance looked toward the door, his furrowed brow telegraphing his worry.

“Go check on them,” Keene said, coming from the bedroom, the first aid kit in his hands.

The agent gave a shake of his head. “My first duty is to Mr. Mann.”

“Go!” Patrick said. “I’ll be fine.”

Dropping the kit onto the couch, Keene withdrew a gun from the folds of his clothing and an ID badge. Chance reached for his own gun, his eyes angry.

“Easy,” I said. “We’re on your side.” Somehow a knife was in my good left hand. I hoped this didn’t go badly because I felt the agent was on Patrick’s side.

“We’re Homeland Security,” Keene said, tossing him the badge. “We had intel there might be an internal problem. We’ll take care of Mr. Mann. Go check on your men.”

Chance looked to Patrick, who nodded, and relief replaced the anger. “Okay. I’ll be back.” He ran to the door. “Stay here. Lock the door.”

Keene went back to digging through the first aid kit. I didn’t get in the way. We had a lot available to us, and Keene had been in the field longer than either Patrick or me. “It’s poison all right,” Keene said. “Snake or spider venom, most likely. But we don’t know what kind so we need to act fast. I hope this antivenom works, or that she didn’t get much.”

“It needs to be a polyvalent antivenom,” Patrick said, “or it may not do any good.”

“You get that from the Internet?” Keene’s voice was slightly mocking. “Well, that’s standard issue, but I don’t know how much to give her. She could go into shock.”

“Here, let me.” Patrick grabbed the large syringe, which had divisions inside for at least three different drugs. “I have the amounts . . . from the Internet.” No retaliating anger came with the comment. Tears wet his face as he pushed up her sleeve.

“I’m going to see what’s happening downstairs.” I reached for the numbers that would place me in the main hallway.

“First get Patrick an assault rifle,” Keene said.

I shifted to the closet near my duffel of weapons and returned in seconds, placing the rifle beside Patrick on the couch.

“I’m going with you.” Keene jumped toward the door. “Lock the door after me. Then come.” To Patrick, he added. “We’ll be right back. Don’t open the door to anyone. If they try to break in, shoot them.”

I sprinted to the door and locked it before shifting to the hall on the main floor. Keene came flying down the stairs to join me before I could reach the kitchen. Energy crackled all around him, and I knew he’d been using his synergy to increase his own speed.
Interesting.

In the kitchen we found Special Agent Chance standing with his gun aimed at Susan, who paid no attention. Her face was fixed in horror at three Secret Service agents, two of whom had collapsed on the floor. The third was still in his chair but sprawled against the wall.

“What did you give them?” Chance shouted at the cook. He glanced over at us, his eyes deadly.

Susan cringed. “Nothing. I swear! It was just chicken. I don’t know how this happened!” She fell to her knees, her eyes glazed. “Are they dead? Oh, dear God, don’t let them be dead!” Her head dropped to her hands as she started to sob.

“We need more antivenom,” Keene said.

I shifted back upstairs and returned in time to see Agent Chance yank Susan to her feet. Neither of them noticed me. “What did you do with our agent? Where is she?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know! She left!”

“She wouldn’t abandon her job.” Chance shoved her into a chair and began throwing open cupboards and pantries. How did even such a large kitchen have so many?

Susan’s head suddenly jerked upright. “But
you
have abandoned your job. You’re supposed to protect Patrick! Why aren’t you with him?”

Chance’s head whipped toward us. “He’s fine,” I said quickly. “The door’s locked and he has an assault rifle that he’s trained to use. But Lucinda’s bad off.”

Keene was injecting the fallen men. “I have no idea if this is going to work. Why isn’t that ambulance here yet?”

“Someone called?” Chance said before disappearing into a pantry.

“Yes,” I said. By now Patrick had used his connection with his network to alert Cort, Stella, the White House, and probably every hospital in DC.

Chance emerged from the pantry, carrying a woman I’d never seen before, now wrapped in his own dark jacket. Susan glanced up and gasped. “Is she—”

“Dead,” Chance confirmed. “Looks like she was hit with something heavy from behind, and then stabbed.” He laid her gently on the floor by the other agents. Taking cuffs from his pockets, he grabbed Susan roughly, shoving her to the ground and forcing her arms behind her back. “You’re gonna pay for this.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Susan cried.

“If you didn’t, we’ll sort it out.” I gave Agent Chance a stern look. “Don’t hurt her.” To Keene I added, “Come on. We can’t do anymore for them. Let’s get back to Patrick.” He followed me out the door, and I shifted as he did. Upstairs, I unlocked the door for him and went back to the couch. Lucinda was rasping as she struggled to breathe.

Patrick gazed up at me, his face stricken. “She came to for a second. I think she’s dying. Please, isn’t there anything you can do?”

Keene entered the room, and I said to him, “We have to get her to the hospital now.”

He knew what I was asking. “And how are we going to do that? You’ve never been to any of these hospitals.”

“Dimitri then. If you’ll help maybe I can—”

“Maybe!” The word was practically a shout. “You want to go clear across the country when we haven’t tested it? We might end up in the desert or an ocean.”

“It’s folding space. It doesn’t work like that.”

“We don’t know how it works. I could—”

“Blow us all up.
I know.
But you won’t.” I waved his next protest aside. “Cort then. He’s nearby and his ability will tell us how the drugs are reacting with her system.”

Keene still hesitated. “Please,” Patrick said. “I can’t lose her.”

Keene nodded, and I reached out, searching for the numbers. Those that signified Cort’s blue popped into my mind, and also Jace’s purple. Noah was a dark shade of pink. They were close together, and on our street where I’d expected them to be. “Okay, do your thing,” I told Keene. “Patrick, tell Cort we’re coming.” Patrick’s neural transmitter began blinking.

Keene’s synergy poured into me, exciting my ability. Numbers came more clearly into focus. I saw Patrick’s color and this time noted it was a shade of orange like Stella’s, which made sense, in a way, since they were both technopaths. Lucinda was white, edged with a silvery gray, as though the poison was eating at her inner pureness.

Energy crackled through me, but I didn’t feel full or as powerful as I had in Keene’s room. “More!” I told Keene, realizing that he was holding back. I reached out with my right hand and touched him, pain arcing through my wounded arm.

Numbers flared bright with color. Power flooded me, stealing my breath. Unlike in the limo, I was prepared for the sensation and directed my body to absorb oxygen. Keene’s ability actually increased my absorption until I felt strong and alive. Power pulsed with every heartbeat, bringing a high I didn’t ever want to end.

The air before us seemed to split, revealing a shimmering room equally as opulent as the one we were in. A glance at Keene’s face showed concentration, his eyes dark with emotion I couldn’t read. Whether he was working to sustain the power or to hold back some explosion that would send us into space, I could only guess. Unsure how it would work, I bent over to touch Patrick, who was holding tightly onto Lucinda.

I didn’t so much step into as I pulled the room toward us. A thrill echoed through me.
Well, here goes nothing.

I only hoped we’d all end up where we were supposed to be.

THE GRAY OF THE
IN
between
never registered in my mind. I was simply there in the new place—and so were the others. I looked at Keene’s astonished face and laughed. He’d been expecting trouble.

“We did it!” I took a step toward him—and my knees promptly gave out. Keene’s hand tightened on mine and pulled me close. I felt spent, as if I’d run a marathon, but euphoric. I’d certainly won that race.

Except it wasn’t over yet. Patrick had fallen onto the gray carpet with Lucinda in his arms, and now she was convulsing. Cort quickly overcame his astonishment at our success and fell to his knees by Lucinda’s side. On a big wall screen Dimitri peered down at us from the conference room in San Diego.

“Whatever you gave her isn’t working,” Cort said. “The necessary interaction with the poison isn’t happening. That means it was the wrong antivenom.”

Dimitri nodded. “You need to hurry, or she’ll have too much damage to her kidneys and other organs. I can fix some of that, but not if they’re too far gone.”

Cort held up a handful of syringes that he pulled from a first aid kit even larger than the one Keene had left behind. He rattled off several drug names. “I won’t know which combination will work until I get it in her. Suggestions?”

“I believe I’ve seen this before in Russia,” Dimitri said.

Dimitri’s next words were lost to me as Keene whispered near my ear, “I’d better help.” I nodded and he released me, going to kneel next to his brother.

A tug at my elbow distracted my attention from their urgency. “Oh, Jace,” I said.

“Come sit down with me over here. Let them do what they can. You look spent. Man, I can’t believe you managed to bring them all here. How cool is that? Cort just about had a heart attack when Patrick told us what you were doing. He thought you’d end up in a million pieces somewhere. For the record, I knew you’d be okay.” He blew out a whistling breath. “Erin is going to go crazy when she hears.
I’m
going crazy! This is the coolest thing since, well, since I Changed.”

I was torn between wanting to bask in my own amazement and wanting to help with Lucinda. But there was nothing I could do for her, so I let Jace show me to the red couch I’d seen before when I’d come to get our weapons. The elegant house was warm, but I felt chilled. “If we don’t get the right mix soon, those agents at Patrick’s are all going to die.”

“We’ll get it to them,” Jace said.

Keene and Cort had begun injecting Lucinda with drugs. She was no longer convulsing, but I didn’t know if it was because of something they’d done or if she’d stopped on her own. When the scream of ambulance sirens finally cut through the quiet of the room. I felt relief that at least someone would be looking at those Secret Service agents.

Somewhere a door slammed, and Noah hurried into the room. Today she wore a summery, knee-length dress in a floral pattern topped by a short, light blue jean jacket. Her hair lay free around her shoulders in tiny tight curls that emphasized the delicate lines of her face. Her eyes skimmed over us as she hurried to Patrick’s side. “How is she?”

“Doing better now, I think,” Cort answered. He sat on his heels, holding a needle in Lucinda’s vein. “Maybe just a bit more.” He nodded at Keene. “Yours too. Slowly. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Noah went to her knees, a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “It’s going to be all right.” Her voice was almost singsong, as though she felt the need to comfort him with her music.