Lightning (4 page)

He glared at the retreating man, then slammed the door as Jaenen exited the threshold. He turned on Selah. “He's got quite a reputation with the ladies.”

Selah's eyes narrowed to slits. She stormed forward and poked him in the chest. “It figures. I tell you my family is missing and you make everything about what you don't like. Listen, you sea slug. I've seen you about a half dozen times in the last month.” A finger poke punctuated each sentence. “I'm a grown woman, and you're no more my keeper than my stepfather is anymore. So you get no say in who I hire to do anything. Got that?”

Bodhi flashed a grin. “I'm back to being a sea slug?” She had called him that the first moment they met on the beach.

Selah's mouth opened in frustration. Her fingers spread into claws and then clenched into fists. She closed her eyes and shook with anger. “You're making me crazy. And I'm pretty much immune to your cuteness now. This is serious. Glade is so busy with his research that I rarely see him, and I don't even have you for sanity support. That leaves me with Treva and Cleon. Thanks.”

Bodhi pressed his lips together. “I heard you about your
family. I didn't expect this report to be different from the caravan report last month. I just figured it would take time for you to come to terms with the outcome.” He hesitated. “We can't be together right now. I have things to work out.”

Her first real love . . . and now his rejection. She just didn't understand men and wished her mother were here for advice.

“On a daily basis, I have no one to talk to about the physical and mental changes I'm going through. You deserted me. You don't even mind-jump with me anymore.” Selah's eyes filled with tears. Things he had to work out—indeed. She blinked back the moisture, refusing to allow herself pity at the coldness of his betrayal.

Bodhi dropped his head and muttered something.

Selah tipped her head to look in his downcast eyes. An errant tear splashed her cheek. She roughly brushed it away with the back of her hand. “What did you say?”

Bodhi's lip curled and he gritted his teeth. “I said I can't hear you anymore.”

“That's ridiculous. I'm not blocking you.”

“I've lost it. I can't hear Lander thoughts. It's as though I've turned human.”

“But you are—” Selah reined in her tongue.
Shouldn't he already know he's human?
Wait. He had given her an explanation once before. Did that mean Second Protocol Landers weren't human, or did they just not know they were human? She needed to find out if being human meant the same thing for all Protocols of Landers. Could she bring it up with Glade? Or would he take away her privileges in the Repository for delving into things she shouldn't?

She leaned over and swept back the hair from his forehead. “I don't believe you. It's not possible. You still have the mark.”

But she did believe him, and it was all her fault. Transitioning her into a novarium had done something to his body chemistry. Jaenen had tried to explain that Bodhi was going to have a dramatic decline in his abilities, but she didn't completely understand. If Bodhi wouldn't come out and say anything about it, Selah didn't want to embarrass him by letting on she knew.

The look in his eyes softened to longing. He quickly recovered and pushed her hand away. “Do you think I'd lie to you about something that important?”

“Well, no. I didn't mean to accuse you of any dishonesty. It's just that I don't understand how this could happen. Glade still has his abilities and so do the rest of the Landers who were in the prison with him.” Selah ran a hand through her hair. “Are you sure you're not just stressed or something? Did you visit the healer?” Maybe Jaenen was wrong about Bodhi's condition.

“I don't want those people near me.” Bodhi's cheeks reddened.

Selah raised both hands. “Then I can't help you, or you won't
let
me help you.”

Bodhi jerked back. “I can take care of my own problems.”

“Same goes for me. You don't get to make choices for me. We don't have a bond anymore.” Selah squared her shoulders, opened the door, and gestured him out.

He stared at her, searching her eyes. For a moment she thought he was going to pull her close. Then his shoulders slumped. He hung his head and left.

She leaned her head against the door. Why wouldn't he go see the healer? He was suffering the loss of his abilities because of her. He had probably pulled away because he resented her.

The dam burst. Anger bubbled up in her.

The tinkling vibration from earlier grew in intensity.

Smash!

Selah spun to face the noise.

Her glass vase lay in pieces at the base of the photo-plate cell wall, water dripping down the image of an ocean wave.

S
elah carefully gathered the shards of glass and deposited them in the waste chute. She turned to survey the area again. How did the vase travel six feet across an open space to smash into the wall? She gathered the scattered, broken flowers and added them to the trash. Another beloved thing lost.

Her ComLink vibrated. Treva's icon flashed green.

Selah bit her lip and answered. Treva's frantic face popped onto the screen.

“What in the world is going on? I felt such a mental rush from you it nearly drove me to the deck as I was getting on the shuttle. I must say, having an educator stumbling around looking drunk is not a desirable characteristic.”

Selah looked at her friend with wide eyes. “I'm sorry. It's my fault! I'm mad, hurt, and scared all at the same time. My family, Bodhi, even my beautiful cornflowers—”

“Stop! I don't want to know about them. I want to know about you! What was that? You sent so much energy at me it felt like an explosion.”

“I-I don't know. All I remember is a flash . . . and my flowers exploded against the wall.” Selah blinked a few times. Light-headedness overtook her for a second, then subsided.

Treva tipped her head to the side. “How did your flowers get destroyed? In a flash, like lightning or something?”

“No . . . yes . . . maybe . . . I think the flash was only in my head. But the vase smashed against a wall six feet from my desk.”

“This is not good. Have you noticed any other changes, vibrations in your extremities, shifts or rippling in your vision, or anything like a blackout?”

“Just the flashes, and the return of the tremors. And my head lightening, like I'm floating on a wave.” She shuddered, then frowned. Where did the shudder come from? “Do you think I should report this to Glade?”

“No! You listen to me very carefully. We're going to keep this to ourselves for the time being. Do you hear me? No one gets to know about this, not Glade, or Bodhi.”

Selah frowned. “What are you worried about?”

“It's just intuition. Too many people are leaving us in the dark about what abilities and functions a novarium is supposed to manifest. I don't think we should be sharing your progress.”

“I know you're right, but I'm a jumble of raw emotions. I feel a little crazy sometimes. My head is trying to go in ten directions at one time.” A flash burst before her eyes. Selah blinked and squinted. Her heart thumped rapidly.

“Whoa, I felt that! Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I think so. Just these strange lights keep popping up.” Her heart rate subsided.

“I need to study this, and you need a rest from all these distractions. Are you sure I can't talk you into coming with me and Cleon? We're taking a wagon in case Cleon spots any interesting vegetation and wants to gather samples. There's plenty of room to bring your navigator for security, and the ride will give you time to relax.”

Selah glowered. She didn't want security following her everywhere she went. That was why she had a trainer. Her new speed and agility made her competent to take care of herself. “Jaenen Malik is busy looking for my mother. I don't need security. I'm beginning to think it was just a coincidence that we talked about security in Baltimore and then I needed it. I haven't so much as had anyone look at me funny since I've been here.”

“So then you'll come?”

“I don't think so. Stone Braide is too close to the Mountain, and I really want to get back in the Repository. I've added at least a dozen questions to my search. It's not all about me as a novarium. Now it's a lot more about Landers in general, and how they acquired these abilities, and how many Landers there could be with no marks.”

“All right, but the offer stands. This shuttle is moving away from the Petrol City platform. I should land in TicCity in about twenty minutes or so. Bye.” Treva's link disconnected.

Selah leaned against the glass wall again and looked out over the water at the gas rig platform, Petrol City, anchored
fifteen miles out at sea. Its geodesic dome encompassed a circular mile of self-governed real estate and grew from the ocean like a ripe pimple on an otherwise harmonious seascape. It didn't appear threatening, but sometimes she felt strange vibrations coming from there when she and Treva mind-jumped.

Selah exited the left arm of the sprawling six-story, U-shaped complex and turned west to the bottom of the U where the Institute for Higher Learning was located. She stopped. The lure was too great. She turned back east, to her beloved sea, and strolled to the edge, mindful not to leave the walkway. Stepping on sand provoked the dreams.

She inhaled the briny taste of the salt air. The sea mist sparkled on her face as she glanced to the right, over petrified wooden remains jutting from the water like tipsy soldiers. To the left, shoreside amusements were driven deeply into the sand with only horseshoe-shaped metal skeletons exposed to 150 years of elements. The ancient tsunami had scrubbed most buildings from the landscape, leaving only a single remnant—a huge wedge of rusting metal with the word
ball
partially buried by the shifting sands at the water's edge.

She turned back. The enormous building complex that housed her, most of the local Landers, and the university and Repository had risen in her level of curiosity. Even as far back as one hundred years before the Sorrows, this was called the Dennis Hotel and rumored to be the original home of a Lander.

The U opening faced the sea and the ends had been scrubbed off by the tsunami, then later replaced with two conical glass-composite fronts that extended above the building as solar collectors. The part Selah liked—the Repository—was rumored to have secret levels.

A sudden flash. Her knees buckled. She reached out, first missing then catching the post at the end of the walkway. Selah steadied herself and took a long breath. This one came without warning. Usually she felt a tingle first. The flashes were getting closer together. She gripped the post with both hands. The feeling passed. About five seconds later, she felt as though it had never happened. Selah wondered if these little events were actually happening or whether her subconscious was driving her. Maybe she had more guilt than she'd realized over Bodhi's loss of abilities.

She turned back and followed the pale composite pathway that wound through groupings of trees and grassy areas in the courtyard of the tall glass-and-stone complex. Up ahead, a group of several well-dressed young women milled about on the grass and benches outside the archaeological studies section.

Selah vaulted the steps at the front and hurried inside. The cool air was a refreshing welcome to the heat radiating from her face. Lately, every time she went to see Glade, she started to sweat. If she had to read her own body-speak, she'd say she was scared. She knew how he'd been lately, trying to discourage her from prying into the past. But he hadn't rescinded her Repository access, so that was a plus. She needed more details to refine her searches through the millions of files.

She brushed sweat from her cheeks and peeked in Glade's office. Empty. Her crepe-soled shoes padded silently across the mosaic-tiled floor to the third door. She grabbed the handle of the heavy mahogany door with both hands and pulled, then entered the teaching theater.

Class was not in session, but she saw Glade's notations on the digital boards spread across the front of the room, and him sitting at a desk in the center. As usual he was engrossed in maps and manuscripts spread across the large surface in front of him. She stopped. Her shoulders tightened.

Bodhi sat across from Glade at another table off to the right. He must have heard the door closing behind her and looked up. He lowered the data cube from his vision. A smile crossed his face, then disappeared as she moved closer.

Selah sauntered down the long length of stairs, staring back at Bodhi as she descended to the front of the funnel-shaped room. He seemed a little thinner, or was it her imagination? She'd seen him a half hour ago, but his gauntness hadn't made an impression. His blond hair was forever in need of a major trim, his mark showing between the loose curls blocking part of his face. His eyes were still clear multi-hues of blue . . . but his cheeks had started to contract. She wanted to walk to him, but she stopped at her father's desk.

“Glade, I haven't seen you in a few days. Have you been holed up here the whole time?”

No answer. The documents possessed his full concentration.

She knocked on the table surface.

He flinched, and a shock of dark hair slid from behind his right ear and obscured his face. He pushed the hair back in
place and looked up. For being at least 150, Glade looked no older than forty. With his olive complexion and green eyes, he was a stunning example of a middle-aged man, but he had no interest in a social life—to the distress of a certain local woman who had tried to invite Selah and him to dinner.

“Oh, it's about time you got here. I thought I told Bodhi to tell you to hurry.” He turned back to the map.

Selah jerked her head in Bodhi's direction and scowled. “He didn't—”

“I didn't have a chance to tell her—”

“Before he had to leave!” Selah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at Bodhi.

Glade looked up again. “Bodhi, I would like to talk to my daughter alone. Meanwhile, check on our travel arrangements, please.”

Bodhi rose from the table and ambled close as he moved toward the door at the other end of the digital boards. He looked down at her as he passed. She felt his breath on her face . . . and then he was gone. Her breath caught.

She looked back at Glade, who was again absorbed in studying a map. She slid onto the stool beside his desk and sneaked a glance at the old maps and charts in front of him, wrinkling her nose at their musty smell. She decided to play along. “What did you want me for? Why didn't you just mind-jump with me?”

Glade pressed his index finger to the yellowed map and looked up. “Please don't connect with me through thoughts. It unnerves me to feel someone probing my mind after so many years of having the ability suppressed while I was in
the Mountain. But I needed to tell you that Bodhi is going with me on this trip, and so is Taraji as our navigator. So you won't have training sessions for a few days.”

Selah straightened and lifted her chin. “I've passed my training and moved on to the next phase of individual sets, so I don't have a defined schedule. I'm self-directed.” Selah waved a finger. “Why are you taking Bodhi? And don't think you got away with sneaking in a
trip announcement
that way. Where are you going?”

“Bodhi has decided he has no other destination, and all men need jobs to live. He understands it's in his best interest to help me in helping you. I have maintained 150 years of funds that are more than sufficient to pay his worth,” Glade said.

Selah's heart pounded against her ribs. She worked hard at containing her joy of Bodhi staying in TicCity, but she worried about his emotional state. Neither Glade nor Bodhi liked the other all that much, so it surprised her to think they could work together without coming to blows. She hesitated to comment, only to preserve Glade's almost pleasant mood. “You left off the trip part of my question. Do you really think it's possible after all these years to find passage to the West? Wasn't anyone looking while you were in captivity?”

For a moment, Glade's forehead glistened as though he might start to sweat. He brushed a hand across his brow. “Getting to the West and finding the Third Protocol—that last important set of Landers—is paramount now that you've been transitioned to a novarium. I had hoped to have more years to explore the data before you became of age, but it
didn't work out that way. No one looked while I was gone because there are very few First Protocols left here. TicCity has become mostly newer Lander generations that don't have the commitment to old ways they've grown to consider myth and fallacy. The few marked Landers who were prisoners in the Mountain with me are just about all of the originals in our northern group who have survived this long.”