Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) (19 page)

When Jaylynn caught up to the fiery blur, Bernice sat in her vehicle. Damon glowered by the driver door of Jaylynn’s sedan, and Caream scrambled in through the front passenger door.

“Damon drive.”

“No, Damon break.” Caream slid into the driver seat.

Hey, guys, I’m not a complete doormat
. “Neither one of you is driving. The police have a statewide manhunt. Prison is worse than any psych ward. No one can see either of you.”

“Forget police prison. Girls drive stupid.” Damon shoved Caream out of the driver seat. He crossed his arms and faced Jaylynn.

She draped the burgundy blanket on his shoulder. “Get in the back. Please.” Her stroke on his rock-hard arm, then his face, sealed his non-driving fate. She swallowed her giggle. Impossible to continue fearing him, when he stomped his foot like a toddler, and then did as told. Damon’s muscular body flung to sprawl on the backseat. He threw the blanket over his head, still growling, and rather cute in a wild, killer bear sort of way.

The overnight bag clunked onto the floor, and Jaylynn dropped water and discs on the front seat. She handed the black blanket to Caream and pulled out her cell as she plopped into the seat. She turned the key and texted one-handed to Mary:
You won’t believe. Bernice is out cold, in car, my driveway, please check. And no I didn’t kill her Love you
.

They exited the small town, and the backseat grumble started. “Jaylynn drives stupid. Damon drive fast.”

“No, never Damon drive.” Caream huddled beside Jaylynn, under the blanket.

“Both of you listen.” Jaylynn threw the language disc in. “Stop calling yourselves by your names and try to follow this. I’ll drive as fast as I dare.”

Ten miles over the speed limit, she headed northeast. Unfortunately, four hundred miles lay between them and the haven of Albuquerque. Once Bernice started screaming, the hunt for Jaylynn and a redhead would be on. She hadn’t dared to take a moment and check the net for spaceships before exiting Dodge. What she wouldn’t give for that laptop she should have splurged on, but exposing geeks at a Wi-Fi zone to tantrum prone aliens couldn’t be a good thing.

Not going public that either mutated humans or fiery light had invaded out of the clear blue…er…red/orange sky had to be electric chair illegal. How could she trust the government, especially if it required finesse? On the other hand—major world news. Perhaps authorities could help better than she, or they’d lock all of them up and open the dissecting lab.

So volatile, Damon would go ninja if a macho cop got in his face. Caream seemed to be a constant irritant, but if someone threatened her, Jaylynn suspected he’d react without thought of consequences to himself or the person he strangled.

Jesus, speak of the devil. Damon leaned elbows on the back of the seat behind her. The blanket covered his head like a shawl, his hands clasped under his chin. God, one little jump from her, and his grunt turned into a rant.

“Damon-I can listen, talk, and drive, if Jaylynn-you, would stop being stupid. I will…I’ll hear the police.” He sighed, distracting her with his seductive scent, and his amazing use of structured sentences. Probably the first time in history language discs actually worked.

“I-me is a problem. I’m learning, but I don’t know what I am. There shouldn’t be I or you. There should only be…us. Sorry, it hurts—my—head to think so much. Jaylynn, forget I or no I. Teach me about murderers, drugs, demons, fags, freaks, aids, prisons. Then tell Dam…me how to find Mom, police, and where every hospital is. Start with why you’re afraid of me, police, and this ex-husband.”

Sure, she could explain that grocery list from the little shop of WTF, in a millennium or so, doused in tequila. She swallowed hard and settled on the least threatening option. “I used to live in Albuquerque, a city in another state with different police. Wesley, my ex-husband, and I got married, which meant…”

She continued to rattle on. Damon questioned her as if English was almost natural to him, an occasional flaw his referral to himself by name. Caream remained quiet, her head on Jaylynn’s lap, covered by the blanket.

Forty minutes passed, the second language disc neared an end, and the town of Winslow faded behind them. Jaylynn felt blown away by Damon. He had total recall, his brain a computer. He consistently steered her to get to the point, and he grilled her like he planned battle strategy.

Caream tensed against Jaylynn’s leg, and she grasped the wheel tighter as the four-lane traffic slowed.

Damon growled in her ear. “Police are closing in. Go faster.”

“You see the police?” She only noticed fuming red, not flashing cop lights, in the rearview mirror.

“No. I hear the siren. They’ll pass in three minutes. They’re slow, but everyone drives faster than us.”

“Oh God. Could you ah, duck down?”

His muttering inaudible, Damon crouched behind the seat. The digital clock read exactly three minutes later when the patrol car sped past them. She released her pent up breath. “Do you hear anymore?”

“No.” Damon’s snap rang out loud and clear. “That police is stopping. We’re outnumbered, but they won’t take anyone. Jaylynn, remember not to be afraid. I’ve told you that twenty-eight times now. Next curve, you’ll see.”

A goddamn roadblock!

Two patrol cars angled the road. A third parked on the shoulder leaving them trapped by traffic behind them. Jaylynn’s hand on Caream encouraged her to remain down, covered by the blanket. Damon turned from the flashing lights to face Jaylynn, and his grin disappeared.

“Get on the floor.” She fought her panic and forced the wobble from her voice. “Let me handle this.” Had her pathetic attempt to show confidence succeeded?

He snorted.

Nope. Beg? She swallowed hard. “Please.”

His lovely eyes hidden beneath the shades surely rolled to the ceiling, but Damon went down without a grunt that she could hear. She sat straight and took a deep breath—CD player off, window down. And damn it, smile; don’t sob.

The older officer lost his smile back at her, his attention on the blanket-covered form.

“My daughter gets car sick.” The man shrugged and started to wave her on when he leaned to peer behind her. Damon’s boots stuck out from under the blanket?

“Out of the car, lady. Hands on your head!”

The burgundy blanket flew upward, Caream scrambled aside, and a red ninja poured over the seat. His knees pressed into Jaylynn, Damon reached over her and slugged the surprised cop in the chest through the window. Current seized her. Lifted like a petrified bundle of nothing, Jaylynn gaped as the officer fell backward. The car lurched forward, and she settled on the seat against the thigh of an explosive alien.

Harsh demands to stop, I’ll shoot, then, oh yes—gunfire.

They tore around a patrol car with inches to spare, weaved through oncoming traffic, cut in and out of lanes, and avoided stunned drivers while the blaring sirens faded. Oh God, ninety miles per hour and accelerating.

“Close your mouth. Your teeth are awful.” Only one hand on the wheel, Damon clasped her leg and heat shot down to her toes. “Stop worrying. I can drive. I don’t understand how to start the cars so they won’t break, but I’m careful not to put my foot through the metal.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god
. “Are you nuts? Slow down. You could’ve killed that man. They’ll radio ahead. Set up more roadblocks, get helicopters, put those stop stick things down.” Jaylynn arched her back to look at him. “What
are
you and what do you mean, my teeth are awful?”

Not good. Brow furrowed, Damon jerked his hand from her leg.

Caream removed her blanket, and spoke for the first time since they’d left Winslow. “You’ll fry the engine, Damon the dumb. Hear the gears? No more past the grind, but you’re too ignorant to comprehend. I’ll drive.” She slid closer.

Damon swatted her and re-grabbed the wheel without losing speed. “Try that again,” he growled, “I’ll knock you out the door. Jaylynn, listen. That police said he’d shoot, but he didn’t. I barely touched the liar and none of his bones broke. If I knew what I was, I’d tell you. Why won’t you be a good teacher? Stop asking me stupid questions and answer. Do helicopters drop bullets to kill? Not just water?”

Jaylynn cringed against the gale pummeling through the window. “I can’t think. We’re gonna hit something. Damon, you’re scaring me.”

He let out a deep sigh. He angled his shoulder to block the wind, and forced her face into his chest. “Afraid of police, ex-husband, cars, me, the air even. You said to trust you. I cooperated for eighty-eight long minutes, while you drove slower than I could run carrying you
and
the car. Try for one minute to trust me. Where’s Albuquerque?”

She drew a deep breath and answered into his shirt. “This way, Route 40, headed northeast, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll all be dead soon.”

His laugh burst out. Deep, masculine, a growl of rough delight she’d never heard before. Under the shades, his brilliant eyes sparkled down at her, and she gulped. “Watch the damn road, you maniac.” They leveled out at,
oh, oh, oh
, one hundred and sixty-five miles per hour.

After a few minutes, Jaylynn began to suspect death wasn’t imminent. She straightened and moved sheepishly from him. Damon scowled. He tugged her right back, leaving her so warm, cozy, and hopelessly confused. The clothes he’d soaked in the shower weren’t even damp. Caream didn’t jolt with currents of warmth when she came into contact. A source of energy needing constant motion, Damon’s arm clasped Jaylynn’s shoulders, and he alternated between stroking her, and twirling strands of her hair around his fingers.

One tap of Caream’s finger, the plastic covering where radio control knobs should be fluttered to the floor, and she twisted the prong. She paused at a rock station and glanced at the lunatic driver. Damon shrugged, and Caream switched to classical. Damon smiled. Caream grinned back and returned to rock as he sighed.

The late afternoon light seemed to be a relentless source of irritation. Caream pulled the blanket over her head and inched to cuddle against Jaylynn, humming with incredible pitch any verse that caught her interest. Caught tightly between two colors, an electric illusion of security comforted Jaylynn, while Damon’s demands poured out in a rough grumble.

“Do you know what we are yet? How we return where we belong? Can you kill, but not know it? Wouldn’t the heart stop beating? How many police, exactly, are there in Albuquerque? Jaylynn, this is important. Where do they get weapons? Answer. Start with guns.”

Chapter Eighteen

Tulsa, Oklahoma sprawled below, marking them halfway to Cleveland.

At the San Diego airport, Aaron’s friend had been pleasantly surprised over a mystery woman. Frank knew Aaron hadn’t dated since Sarah died. Frank grinned, winked like a delighted co-conspirator, and proper procedures be damned. Aaron escorted a disguised, alien-angel past the employee gate.

After he’d second guessed David’s preflight check, Aaron pulled the block from behind the wheel of the red and white single-engine. They’d hopped in for perfect flying conditions. The exhilaration never faded for Aaron, no matter how many times he flew.

He especially loved take off. In a euphoric groove, functioning at his peak—fuel selector set on both tanks, carb heat pulled to cold, throttle open at low rpm, electrical system on, ignition switch flipped. He’d taxied to the runway, adjusted the carb heat, set the altimeter, and waited.

His luck held, clearance radioed after an unheard of five minutes. Throttle pushed to full power, airspeed indicator passed fifty knots, and he’d eased back on the control wheel. Reduced flaps, pitched the wings at a positive angle and they were airborne into the wild, wish it were green, yonder. Ninety-degree turn, then level at five thousand feet.

The “life is good” feeling stayed with him, and a strong tail wind pressed 150 knots to 160. They’d flown beyond the sand dunes of Yuma, with a flurry of police activity in the Arizona desert below them.

Normally, David would be in the copilot seat, begging Aaron to let him pilot. This trip, the kid sat quiet in the back, Jade curled under the blanket, fetal position, and her head in his lap.

Thanks to the continuous tailwind they touched ground in Tulsa, only two and a half hours past Phoenix. Jade and David remained in the plane while Aaron refueled. Back in the air, he watched the sun sink behind them and hit speed dial. Evan sounded drained. Close to midnight in Cleveland, Aaron encouraged him to get some sleep.

With the throttle pushed to the max, they cruised well past the normal seventy-five percent power range, yet the engine ran smooth. He’d never forced an engine to maintain this velocity—224 knots. The normal cruise speed for a Cessna Sky Hawk hovered around 170. David snored peacefully behind him, and although Aaron felt nervous, his communion with the engine was absolute. Surely he’d detect a hitch or sluggish feel—precursor to an engine stall.

A burn run of two thousand and twenty miles traversed further into virgin territory for Aaron, and the jittery feel in his limbs warned him he seriously pushed his own engine. He wished Jade would sit up front, talk with him, but he feared to ask her. The night sky surrounded them, but the instrument panel glowed in red-white-blue patriotism.

It was 2:30 AM when they approached the runway in Cleveland, Ohio. Aaron pulled the throttle back, adjusted flaps, held the nose up, and made a kickass landing.

Their footsteps echoed through the deserted airpark as they hastened to the car rental, Jade clinging to Aaron. He’d requested a vehicle with global positioning. A guy thing, he wouldn’t rely on this particular female despite her photographic memory.

Minutes later, Aaron drove through an unfamiliar city and glanced in the rearview mirror. David quivered with excitement while they sped through neon green lights.

What in God’s name am I doing?
They’d come this far, now wasn’t the time to second guess, but he’d better be the best superhero dad ever, before Sarah found a means from the great beyond to strangle her idiot husband. Aaron curved for the Chagrin Falls exit and floored it through the traffic light. No need for the chromophobic angel beside him to watch the evil yellow turn bloodcurdling red.

He cleared his throat. “Listen carefully, son. If something happens, head for the police, no discussion. Dig my gun out and hand it up here.” Frank had taken the licensed weapon in the overnight bag through security. Aaron had never fired the revolver before, other than target practice. Hopefully, he never would.

He zipped through the empty lanes, one hand on the wheel. And it was goodbye to Jade’s sunglasses; he set them on the dash. As he expected, those gorgeous eyes shone with anxiety. “You okay? You seem so worried, I mean, more than normal.”

“Malcolm’s dead, and I’m afraid. I’m sorry. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Shh, we’ll figure it out.” Aaron tugged the scarf off, unfastened the barrette, and loosened her hair. A brush of his fingers against her cheek, and he pulled her against him.

The house looked identical to its suburban, upper class neighbors—except this house with its neatly mowed lawn sheltered secrets no human ever dealt with before. The rental engine quieted in the driveway, parked next to a pickup truck.

Aaron swung Jade out of the car, wrapped his arm around her, and beckoned David to follow.

Unlocked front door. Perhaps Cleveland was a less violent city than the average, but more likely an overwhelmed young man had neglected to slide the deadbolt. No yellow monsters lurked in the foyer, and Aaron lowered his revolver. Filled with fake confidence, he gestured David in and closed the door.

He’d never investigated a murder scene before, let alone one of a being from God knows where, maybe near Tralfamadore. Aaron, aka Billy Pilgrim, girded his loins and headed, angel and son on his heels, to locate a dead, blue man—so it goes.

In the master bedroom, the guy sleeping on the bed could only be Evan. Aaron clasped his shoulder. Evan blinked up, childishly confused. An older version of David, woken from a nightmare and relieved the stranger’s hand on him felt human.

Not an adult, a damn teen. A frightened kid, his battered, bruised chest revealed by his unbuttoned shirt. Evan’s face was damp. He’d been crying as he slept.

“I’m Aaron. Sorry to wake you. The door was unlocked.”

“God, I’m glad you’re here. And I’m more glad you’re not yellow… Malcolm! I have to check on him.” Evan struggled to sit and gasped. Damaged ribs would have stiffened while he slept.

“You forgot to mention the broken ribs and the fact that you’re a teenager.” Aaron thrust his revolver in his hip pocket, grabbed a pillow, and eased Evan down against it. “What else didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m almost twenty. Just a year or so.” Evan’s voice hardened with that defiant whine teens do so well. “Forget about me. What should we do about Malcolm? What if that blue bleeding started again? Oh God, I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.”

Sweet chocolate-brown eyes widened, and Evan’s sharp intake would make crushed ribs howl. His jaw dropped, and he appeared speechless. Did his injuries lead the teen to lose his train of thought?

Nah. Evan couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t from the hurt in his chest. Behind Aaron, enormous eyes of radiant light peered with emerald fear, not yellow fury, and Evan’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Wow,” the teen gasped, “you’re too beautiful to be real. Are you gonna try and kill me? Jane’s unbelievably gorgeous too, but you…you’re another angel? I’m dead? Seriously?”

Jade slammed herself into Aaron, and he wrapped his arm around her. “Why would I harm you?” she whispered. “You’re already very hurt. But this Malcolm’s really dead?”

Evan rubbed his eyes as if he thought she’d disappear and pushed himself off the bed. “God, no. He can’t be dead.”

Aaron pried Jade loose and reached for the wobbly teen. Evan shrugged his hand off and stumbled for the bathroom.

In the tub, Malcolm’s eyes were closed. Navy-blue hair cut military style, pants on, shirt off. The gauze wrapped around his pale face surely hid more injuries. Hard to see the body in such dark blue water filling the tub to the brim. Jade was in her usual state, on the verge of collapse. Aaron sighed and picked her up. If she’d only hold it together. Bad enough he had a teen, a child, and two dead colors relying on him.

“Jade, please, another meltdown won’t help.” Aaron carried her from the adjoining bathroom to the large bed. Damn. He was fatigued and frightened, but so was she and that was no excuse for him losing patience.
It couldn’t be easy discovering another like you, smashed to a pulp in a tub
. “Sorry. Don’t worry. I’ll figure this out. David, come sit with her.”

Continue his stare at a male corpse or hold an angelic living female? No contest. David hurried to take Jade’s hand. He sat too close and asked the billion dollar question. “Can’t you do something? You know, maybe, if he’s not dead, like you healed me.” She looked at David with those apprehensive eyes and shook her head.

Evan couldn’t take his attention off her. The distracted young man seemed to barely notice Aaron’s examination of broken swollen fingers. Aaron gently released Evan’s hand. “I’ll remove the bandages and check him out closer. Then I’m getting you to a hospital.”

“No. I won’t leave Malcolm,” Evan said. “This is my fault. You know, she was kissing him…well, not really. More like biting off his lip and sucking the life from him, when I tasered her.” A clipped sob and the teen spit out his fear. “You think I killed him too, don’t you?”

“I don’t know anything, yet.” Aaron pulled the blanket out from under Malcolm’s head. No rigidity—good. Not breathing—debatable. Ice water soaked Aaron’s arms and his shirt. Surprising how easily the tall man lifted. Two hundred pounds minimum, but Malcolm’s corpse carried like a snoring David.
Supernatural, celestial light, no mass to them, what the hell?

David tugged Jade aside, and Aaron settled the body on the bed. Malcolm’s chest had been severely beaten, multiple ribs crushed. Aaron ran his hand over the limp, right arm. He felt at least three breaks, and he could see bone jutting through muscle. Malcolm’s left arm had two deep, green-crusted bite marks. His skin color was white with a pale blue tinge where it hadn’t blackened with bruising.

There’d been no teenage exaggeration. Someone, something, had done a number on this guy. Aaron took his pocketknife out, opened it, and cut through the gauze wrapped around his mouth and head. Thankfully, no fluid dripped from the jagged lip gash, but Aaron was at a loss. Whether or not Malcolm needed to breathe, the injuries looked too severe for survival.

Evan broke the heavy silence. “What do you think?” The teen clasped the dead man’s leg, as if sheer willpower could bring 475 nanometer back.

“That I should check out the weapon he made. Where’s Jane? Put ice on her lately?”

“No. I keep worrying she’ll eat my brains. She’s in the laundry room. Laugh—I don’t care, but I dumped salt in the doorway. Will you come with me? Maybe they should stay here.” Evan stared unabashedly at Jade again.

David stared back. “My name’s David. Go on. I’ll watch over Malcolm and Jade.”

A sweet boyish smile filled Evan’s face. “Hey, David. Nice to meet you. You know—you could go with your dad and leave me with them. I wouldn’t mind.”

David grinned, blushing. “Don’t think so.”

Evan shrugged and stepped closer. “Worth a try. God, she’s…Jade, you’re so beautiful. And I thought Malcolm was cool.” Evan’s smile disappeared as Jade shivered into David.

The teen drew back. “I’m sorry. Is it me, or does all the blue bother you? Maybe you need a drink. Malcolm wanted water when he was upset, and after the first time that yellow…thing tried to kill us. What’s wrong?”

“I’m alone,” Jade said. “I don’t know why I am or how to fix…Aaron?”

In the time it took for Aaron to sigh, Evan spoke up. “You aren’t alone. We’ll help you.” The teen didn’t dare inch closer, but he dived, head first, into the protector role. “Don’t fear me. I’d never harm anyone…er…except, I did kill Jane. And Malcolm, because I didn’t listen to him. Sorry. Are you afraid of Malcolm? He only yells a lot. I don’t mean loud. He kind of lectures sometimes. Well, all the time, but he’d never hurt anyone.” Evan turned to Aaron. “It’s gonna be okay, right?”

“Let’s concentrate on Malcolm and Jane.”

Evan allowed himself to be led out of the bedroom as his worries tumbled free. “Got that revolver ready? Blow her head off if she opens her eyes. Or give it to me. Killed her once. Why not twice? You didn’t tell me Jade was so hot. And I thought Malcolm was like, you know, a man angel.” A shallow inhale, fighting battered ribs, and Evan continued. “He’s really stingy with the info. I don’t know if he and the yellow demon came here together, or he calls her Jane Doe because she was in a morgue.”

The homemade weapon lay on the kitchen floor.

In the room off the kitchen, Aaron stepped over the line of salt and swallowed hard. A young, budding killer had put a slender, naked woman, trussed with blue rope, in the utility sink.

Fear flooded Evan’s expression. “You gotta trust me. Shoot her if she opens those flickering eyes. We need to get Malcolm back before we even consider reviving her. She’s seriously dangerous. I really like it when she’s dead.”

Aaron tore his gaze from the beauty in the sink. “I’ll give him a jolt, see what happens.”

The traumatized teen surrendered the taser with a heartbreaking sigh of relief. On the way back to the bedroom, Evan didn’t refuse Aaron’s hand under his elbow.

No reason to delay. Aaron nodded at terrified green and relied on the twelve-year-old. “David, take Jade and move into the doorway. Evan, you back away, too.”

Everyone in place, Aaron studied the taser, and triggered it to Malcolm’s shoulder. The muscular body jerked. Skin color flashed pale blue and then stabilized a deeper blue.