The Lost (29 page)

The dull flush that spread across Kellen’s cheeks was answer enough, but he still tried to establish a distinction. “That battle, as you call it, was an attack on our complex by the Shadow Hunters.”

Bobbie arched a brow and returned her attention to Selina, wanting to hear her melodic, peaceful voice divulge more of the history of Adam’s people. “Care to explain why you’re different from the Shadow Hunters?”

With a nod and smile she continued. “As I said before, the Hunters kept to themselves. Even those who ventured
out amongst the humans guarded the secrets of our people. In time, however, a great blight came upon us—a pox brought to us by those Hunters who had resided amongst the humans.

“It seems that the Hunters were as susceptible as the indigenous tribes to the diseases brought by the conquistadores, possibly more so.”

Bobbie furrowed her brow. “The smallpox killed your people?”

A silvery sheen washed over Selina’s eyes as she continued, and her voice took on a biting edge. “Those who died were the lucky ones.”

“Death is never better, no matter how difficult life may seem,” Bobbie parried.

Selina smiled sadly and squeezed Bobbie’s hand. “I know you are aware of sacrifice and pain, but no one could have predicted how smallpox would change the Hunters. Only a scant number of our people retained the ability to hunt energy, and it fell on them to attempt to heal those who were sick. The lucky ones died. The not so lucky lived, but could never again hunt.”

“And they’re the Shadows?” Bobbie pressed, wanting to comprehend their hierarchy and how she and Adam fit into the structure.

Selina shook her head and pressed on with her explanation. “The Shadows descend from those amongst us who were forever cursed by the pox. The illness buried itself in their bodies, becoming one with them. No matter how many times they were healed, the pox returned. Until one day a dying Shadow took hold of a Quinchu, drained her life force, and was seemingly restored.”

“Because your energy is the most potent,” Bobbie
added, and with another sad smile, Selina finished the tale.

“Stealing every last atom of Quinchu power kept the first Shadow’s pox away, and others like him revolted, turning on the Quinchus and the other Hunters.”

Kellen finally spoke up again. “Our people have been fighting that civil war for hundreds of years, hiding to avoid the Shadows and maintain our world separate from the humans.”

“Humans like me,” Bobbie finished his thought. “What does this have to do with me and Adam?”

“Bruno took our son. We want him back with us,” Kellen replied curtly, then glanced at his wife uneasily.

“Our people… Kellen and I are growing weaker. Without an infusion of new power, our clan will die off.”

“Adam is the source of that power,” Bobbie stated.

“Yes. If all had gone as planned, Kikin would have married the daughter of the Ocean clan Quinchus,” Selina advised.

“Because of the Equinox?” Bobbie asked, recalling the conversation she had overheard earlier that morning.

“You know about the bonding that must happen?” Kellen pressed.

Bobbie glanced up at him. “I overheard Salvatore Bruno discussing something called an Equinox with another man this morning. He used the word ‘triad.’ ”

“Adam’s thirtieth year marks the end of the first triad. But there is no way Salvatore could know about Adam joining with the daughter of the Ocean clan,” Selina advised.

“Marriage to another,” Bobbie nodded, the quiver in her voice the only clue that Selina’s pronouncement bothered her.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, even though she already had a clue.

“Can you get Kikin to speak with us? To let us tell our story?” Selina asked, and finally slouched back in her chair, as if drained by all that she had revealed. As before, Kellen lovingly embraced her, placing a kiss at her temple.

Selina could read Bobbie’s thought in her face. If she told Adam about his parents, it might mean that he would be lost to her by virtue of the obligations he would be expected to honor. But if she didn’t tell Adam about them, he would never know his true origins. Never experience the kind of love that she shared with her family.

It wasn’t an easy choice, but love sometimes meant making sacrifices for those about whom you cared. Even if it would break your heart.

With a shrug, Bobbie finally answered in the only way she could.

“All I can do is try.”

Selina and Kellen shared another anxious look, and then Selina reached beneath the scalloped edge of the shirt she wore. As she did so, Bobbie noticed the hint of a scar high up along one shoulder.

“We all have our wounds, Bobbie,” she said, and then pulled out a heavy golden medallion on a thick gold chain.

Sliding it off over her head, Selina dangled it in front of Bobbie.

“Kikin used to see this all the time, from when he nursed at my breast to the nights when he was older and climbed into bed with us during a storm.”

Bobbie took the medallion and examined it. The geometric design was vaguely familiar, and then it occurred to her where she had seen it before.

“Adam doodles sometimes when he’s thinking. The drawings look a lot like this. He used the symbols as a logo for his company,” she said, running her hand over the surface of the medallion. The design had been worn almost smooth in spots from wear. If she’d had any doubt about the truth of their story, the medallion with the design that Adam was sure to remember chased those doubts away.

Selina laced her fingers together and with a throaty whisper replied, “Maybe it will jog some memory for him.”

“Do you have pictures? Anything that—”

“We never keep such things. There has always been fear that the photos will expose our auras or be used to identify us and hunt us down,” Kellen explained.

With a nod, Bobbie gathered up the chain and medallion and clutched it in her hand. Facing them directly, she repeated her earlier promise.

“I can’t guarantee anything, but I will try.”

A
dam no longer trusted him, Salvatore thought, taking another long pull on the glass of scotch as he sat at his kitchen table, flipping through the file for Genesis and wondering how he would ever regain Adam’s trust, or if he even wanted to, since he was unexpectedly unsure of the plans he had made with Sombrosa.

Although Alexander’s man had radiated calm, there was just something about him and Sombrosa that was suddenly not sitting so well with him. Add to that the fact that Adam had appeared so happy with Bobbie before Salvatore had given him the doctored files.

He had made the Carreras out to be the bad guys, although nothing could be farther from the truth. The only real facts in the files were Bobbie’s barren state and the results of the DNA tests. Adam had probably not given much thought to children yet, but someday he would, and Bobbie would never be able to provide him with a family of his own. Children with Adam’s unique abilities.

Children who might have been the first step for his project. His grandchildren, he thought, his sense of duty and his feelings for Adam warring with each other as they had on more than one occasion. He had tried to be a good father, had done the best he could. And didn’t all good parents push their children to reach their full potential?

Organizing all the papers before him, Salvatore slipped them back into the file for Genesis and then sat there, his hands splayed on the surface of the table.

A serviceable table, he thought, shifting one hand back and forth across a slight dent on the wooden surface. He and Adam had been working on a science project when the power drill had slipped from Adam’s young hands and dropped onto the tabletop, creating the impression in the wood.

A few inches away was an inch-long burn mark in the varnish, a testament to another project and a soldering iron that had gone forgotten as Adam and he had gotten to talking.

Salvatore wasn’t an emotional man, but as he raised his head and glanced around the kitchen, each place his gaze touched roused a memory of Adam.

His chest tightened painfully with the memories. He grabbed the glass and took another long swig, but it did nothing to relieve the pressure around his heart or the wrenching of his gut.

Guilt, his conscience said. Adam might not be his biological son, but he was for all intents and purposes his child. Twenty years of watching him grow, of protecting him, couldn’t be erased as easily as he had thought.

Finishing the scotch, Salvatore poured himself another as he returned his gaze to the file sitting before him.

Twenty long years he had waited for this moment. For the time when Genesis could become a reality.

He should have been ecstatic.

Instead all Salvatore felt was despair.

Adam had barely slept all night, his mind streaming out thought after thought like a tickertape gone wild. Image after image, fact after fact, sped along his synapses, keeping him going long into the night and early morning.

A low, insistent buzz finally roused him from a troubled sleep. His smartphone danced along the surface of his nightstand.

He picked up the phone and came instantly awake at the number displayed by the caller ID.

Bobbie.

Doubt and need snaked around his heart, constricting it painfully as he stared at the vibrating phone in his hand.

And then the buzzing stopped.

Relief and regret replaced his earlier emotions, the latter strong enough to make him want to return her call and find out what she could possibly want that early on a Sunday morning. The phone droned again, flashed to let him know he had a voice mail.

He should disregard it, ignore her and her call, because he was still unsure of so many things. And yet he found himself accessing the message, sending his password with a mental blast while he sat back against the pillows to listen to what she had to say.

“Adam.”

Just the sound of his name on her lips tightened his gut.

“I need to see you. Please, Adam. Please call me back.”

It was that plaintive plea that got to him, driving
away any doubt about the wisdom of returning her call. He hadn’t known Bobbie long, but he had learned one thing during their short time together: Bobbie wasn’t the kind to beg. Not even if her life depended on it. Maybe for someone else. Someone she cared about, but not for herself.

Calling himself a fool a thousand times over, he blasted her number into the phone.

Bobbie hadn’t expected him to call back. She was doubly surprised that he did so within a few minutes of her voice mail. But if she had any hope that their conversation would be easy, it was quickly shattered by the frigid tone of his voice.

“You said you needed to see me.”

“I have something important to discuss with you.”

“Why can’t we discuss it over the phone?” he challenged.

Bobbie glanced down at the gold medallion in her hand. Its weight dragged at her hand and her heart. “It’s the kind of thing I need to explain face to face.”

A long hesitation on the line was chased by a harsh sigh and a mumbled curse before he said, “I must be a fool. Where do you want to meet?”

She had hoped to go to his home, but on reflection, it made sense he wouldn’t want her there. It was too private, and too many memories lingered of the short time they had spent there together. Somewhere public, she thought, and it immediately came to her where.

“There’s a pavilion on the boardwalk in Ocean Grove and some benches across the way from it on the Auditorium grounds.”

“Half an hour. Be there or I’m gone,” he said, and hung up before she could utter another word.

She would be there, and perhaps Adam would be willing to listen, she thought, the weight of the medallion in her hand reminding her of just how many people were relying on her, the heavy weight in her heart confirming how much she stood to lose even if she was successful.

When Bobbie lost her platoon, she thought she would never recover from that pain. But, little by little, she had recovered and learned to view every day as a gift. She had told Adam life was too short not to go after what you want. And though her time with Adam had been brief, and initially she had feared entering his world, she was certain that the only thing in life she really, truly wanted was to be by Adam’s side, forever.

T
he grounds in front of the Auditorium had grown empty as Bobbie sat on the park bench across from the pavilion. In the summer the faithful would gather in the pavilion for Sunday praise service while sometimes impatient beachgoers lingered along the boardwalk, waiting for the chains to come down along the paths to the beach.

With Memorial Day still a couple of weeks away, those with a religious bent had hurried to the Auditorium for Sunday service, leaving her alone to wait and worry. It had been at least half an hour since the call and Adam’s ultimatum.

Was he testing her? Or maybe he was just being cautious, fearful that he would be the subject of another attack. She didn’t blame him. She’d had the same sense of urgency when she had first noticed the woman in her bedroom last night.