Touching Darkness (31 page)

Sayre rammed his elbow into Darkwell's back. The men rolled over the knife, grinding Nicholas's fingers into the floor. He tried to pull his hand back but couldn't.

Sayre growled, “You were going to squash me all along, weren't you?”

Darkwell didn't answer. “Did you get into Olivia's dreams? Did you attack her?”

“Yeah, I did. I got out of here and would have had some fun with her if it wasn't for this jerk. And I came back without anyone ever seein' me. That's how smart I am.”

Darkwell growled and pulled his hand back. Sayre hit him on the burnt side of his face, and Darkwell screamed again. He staggered to his feet. Sayre jumped up, the stronger of the two.

Nicholas's fingers throbbed, but he forced them toward the knife again. He scooted his body one agonizing inch, enough to wrap his fingers around the handle. Sayre's shoe stomped down toward his hand as the men continued to battle. Nicholas pulled the knife back just before he would have been crushed.

Kill or be killed.

Darkwell would kill him or leave him there to die.

The smoke tickled his throat and burned his eyes. Coughing would be hell. He tried to fight the instinct.

Sayre pushed Darkwell and tore down the stairs. Darkwell fell toward him, his arms wheeling. Nicholas braced himself for the weight of the man falling on top of
him. The knife blade was pointing up. He tightened his hand around the handle.

Darkwell twisted around as he fell, facing Nicholas with hatred in his eyes as he landed. Then surprise. Pain.

“No more,” Nicholas tried to utter, but the words came out garbled.

Darkwell's body slumped, lifeless, next to him. They would both die there.

He heard thumping on the stairs. Sayre?

“Nicholas!”

Olivia's voice. He struggled to look at her through his one good eye. He couldn't talk, couldn't tell her how her father had ended up there. She stopped cold, taking in the grisly scene.

She dropped down next to him. Petra and Eric came up, too, their hair and clothing covered in what looked like soap bubbles.

Eric took in the scene, too. “You took him out.”

Olivia looked at her father and quickly looked away. She turned to Nicholas, her face filled with horror. “He did this to you. My father did this. We've got to get you out of here.”

Eric pulled Darkwell's body away. “I can't wait to hear how this happened.”

Petra sank to her knees beside Olivia and put her hands on his side. Even that gentle touch shot pain through him. “You're a mess.”

Olivia coughed. “What are you doing? We have to get out of here.”

“We'll make his injuries worse if we have to carry him out of here. Shh.” Petra, eyes closed, leaned over him. Her expression was pained as she flung her head back.

Olivia obviously remembered that Petra could heal. She sat back, hope filling her expression as she watched. He felt the pain ease by degrees. Each breath came a little easier and less painfully. The ache in his ribs subsided. He could
breathe. She passed her hands over his face and he felt, actually
felt
, his jaw slide back into place, the ache gone. His eye returned to normal. Petra slumped over, and Eric grabbed her.

Flames erupted through the floorboard as Nicholas got to his feet. “Is she all right?”

Eric hoisted her into his arms. “I don't know. But we better get out of here.”

Nicholas grabbed her hand, feeling the heat envelop them. The panic returned. Fire. Flames. Smoke. He was living his nightmare, and now Olivia was in it, too.

Eric carried Petra down the stairs, then the hall.

“Do you need help?” Nicholas asked Eric.

“I've got her. Just go. Lead the way.”

Nicholas held Olivia's hand as they raced down the hall toward the stairs. “Where are Amy and Lucas?” he called out to Eric.

“He saw Sayre coming out and went after him. Amy followed. Zoe and Rand are outside.”

Smoke was filling the upper area of the foyer. There were no sprinklers there. Apparently Darkwell had only installed the foam ones in his office and a few water ones down the hallway.

Nicholas went first, watching Eric's blind steps, ready to catch Petra if necessary. “Almost there.”

Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs, another guard stood, gun at the ready. “Hold it right there.”

Eric didn't stop. “Are you friggin' kidding me? The house is on fire!”

Nicholas started to raise his arms in surrender and instead dove at the man. The gun went off, then flew out of the guard's hand. Nicholas heard the man's head hit the marble floor with a
crack.
Nicholas launched up, but the man remained on the floor, blood pooling from beneath his head.

“Move it!” Eric said, stepping over him.

Nicholas looked behind Eric at the flames climbing down the walls, eating their way down wallpaper and the banister. Chasing them. He could hardly breathe, not so much from the smoke but panic. Olivia screamed. He grabbed her hand, and they ran toward the front door. She opened it, and Eric walked through first and nodded. “Go that way!”

The rain was letting up but still fell with a steady drone. The smoke alarm pierced the air. They raced across the lawn toward the far wall. Two people ran toward them.
Please, not more guards.

No, Lucas and Amy. “What happened to Petra?” Amy asked, racing to her side.

“She healed Nicholas. What about Sayre?”

“I lost him in the smoke.” Lucas looked into the night.

They helped Petra up and over the wall. Rand and Zoe, as soaked as the rest of them, caught her on the other side. She mumbled, coming awake.

Amy looked around. “I don't see Magnus and Lachlan.”

Sirens wailed in the near distance.

Eric stared at the flames reaching out of every door and window they could see. “Unfortunately, they're on their own. We've got to get out of here before the cops and fire trucks show up.”

They carried Petra to the car, and six of them crammed in. Rand and Zoe ran to the motorcycle and sped off.

As soon as they cleared the street, Nicholas looked at Olivia, whose face was ashen as she watched the house.

He touched her face. “You're all right.”

“I thought you were dead. He told me you were dead. And you almost were, because of him.”

“I'm fine. But…I'm sorry it was me who killed your father.”

“He escaped my wrath.” Eric, who was driving, looked at Nicholas. “At least you got the pleasure.”

“I didn't want that
pleasure.
But I knew he'd kill me.”
Nicholas squeezed her tight, feeling her body shake. He kissed her temple. “I'm sorry all of this had to happen.”

“My father was an awful person.” Her voice trembled. “I'm sorry for what he did to you. All of you.”

Amy reached over and held Lucas's hand. “Do you believe what he said, that he didn't have our parents killed?”

“I…I think I do.”

“Either way, he deserved to die.” Eric turned onto the highway.

Amy's phone vibrated. She answered it. “Magnus! Are you and Lachlan all right?…Oh, God, I'm so sorry…What is it?…Okay, we'll come tonight.” She hung up. “They found Richard, but he was locked in the wine cellar. They couldn't get him out before the fire and smoke spread down there. They…they had to leave him.”

Amy's face was taut with both grief and excitement. “Magnus said we should come to the compound. Richard told him something about the Booster. He said it was going to change everything. And that he wasn't sure we were going to like it.”

Amy looked at Olivia. “You, too. Even though you're not an Offspring…you are one of us now.” She flicked her gaze to Nicholas and gave him a soft smile before turning it to Olivia.

No one objected, not even Eric. Olivia smiled back, relief on her expression.

Nicholas pulled her close. “We don't have to go. You've been through a lot tonight.”

She sat back. “I want to know the truth, too.”

With Nicholas's help, Petra pulled herself to a sitting position. “So, this is over, right? Darkwell's gone. There's no one else to come after us, no one to protect the program, because there is no program.” Her gaze went from one person to another. “Right?”

Olivia nodded. “There's no one else. Fonda, the other Offspring, must have been sent away when my father knew Nicholas might come to rescue me.” She sounded tired
and sad. “Without my father to direct her, she'll probably go back to her life. The guards are just hired men. Without a paycheck, they have no reason to pursue us. They don't know anything about the program.” She let out a soft sigh. “It's over. Except…”

“Pope,” Nicholas said, finishing her thought, his expression as grave as hers.

“Augh,” Petra said. “The new, unknown enemy.”

“We don't know if he's the enemy or not. Remember, he let us go, even when we were in his weird building. But he's definitely someone to watch out for.”

“And Sayre is still out there,” Lucas said. “I bet he's not going away anytime soon.”

Petra's eyes glittered with tears. “But mostly it's over. I can't believe it.”

Amy reached over and clasped her hand. “We can go back to our lives. Oh, my God, we can really go back to our lives.”

Rand looked at Zoe. “We can find a place in Baltimore. You can go back to tattooing.”

“Oh, the thought of that.” Her dreamy expression faded. “But I'm still a wanted felon. Just because Darkwell's gone doesn't mean those bogus charges he set up are. And the police sure aren't going to believe the truth.”

He touched her cheek. “We'll get it figured out, doll. Maybe we'll go to Canada or something. Really start over.”

“What about you? What will you do for a living?”

“I'm done with my Robin Hood thing. Maybe I'll use my art in different ways. I do happen to know an art gallery owner.”

She let out a sigh and curled up against him. “At least I have you. That's all I care about.”

Nicholas pulled Olivia closer again. It wouldn't be over for her, not for a long time.

O
livia and Nicholas walked into his bedroom at the tomb. All she wanted to do at that moment was wash off the smoke and tears. She turned to him as soon as he closed the door. “Take a shower with me. Not because I need you or because I'm afraid to be alone.” She took a halting breath. “Because I want you to.”

He took her hand and led her into the bathroom. There was something healing about running water. Even the sound soothed the edges of her ragged nerves. A minute later steam billowed into the bathroom. Without words, he undressed her, then she undressed him. After they stepped into the shower, he pulled her close and held her as the warm water washed down her back.

She was trembling, and he bracketed her face with his hands and kissed her. Soft, sweet kisses on her mouth, nose, forehead, that said more than any words could. He stroked her face, his expression full of the same tornado of emotions that tore through her.

She cleared her throat. “If the storm of images Lucas suffers from is worse than what I feel now, I can't imagine how he survives. Thinking you were dead—that bastard told me you were dead—seeing you so beaten I hardly recognized you.” She closed her eyes. “Seeing my father ignite, then dead, the tip of a knife sticking out of his back.” Her
tears were lost in the water raining down from the shower. “I know he was evil, that he was willing to sacrifice even me for his cause. But he was my father.”

His eyes were filled with sympathy and pain. “Go ahead. Cry. Scream. Beat my chest.”

“Everything is in a ball lodged here.” She pointed to her solar plexus with her fist.

He put his hand flat against her stomach. “Let go, babe. You're safe with me.”

Those last words did it. They released the dam, and she let it all out in great gushing sobs. He held her, rocking back and forth and whispering against her hair. She couldn't hear his words, but they didn't matter.

Finally, she leaned into the stream of water and washed away the tears. When she moved forward, he wiped away the drops from her forehead.

He looked contemplative, though he forced a smile. “Feel a little better?”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don't thank me.” He seemed to be struggling with something. Finally he said, “Do you hate me for killing him?”

He had told her how it had happened. She shook her head. “I could never hate you, Nicholas. Never. You don't deserve that guilt. You didn't sign on for this. I'm sorry it was you who had to end it. You had every right to kill him with rage and hatred. But you didn't. It was self-defense, sweetheart.”

He released a ragged breath. “Rand was right. Killing someone, no matter the reason, tears you up inside.”

“Forgive yourself. My father said many times, people die in war. He would have been honored to die for what he believed in, whether it was right or wrong. Like…like any terrorist.”

He brushed her long hair from her face, letting his fingers linger against her cheek. “I used to think in terms of black or white, nothing in between. But your father was
shades of gray. He had good intentions. That's what you have to remember about him. That's what you got from him: strength; integrity; dedication. But you'll apply those to life far differently than he did.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you for that.”

He shook his head. “I can't believe I said it myself.”

She took his fingers and pressed them to her lips. “I thought I'd lost you. And then when I saw you, I thought I was still going to lose you. Witnessing the miracle of Petra's healing you, I'll never forget how I felt at that moment. When you got up. When you were whole.” Her heart lifted even more. “You're not going to die in a fire now. It's done.”

He blinked as her words seemed to sink in. “I haven't had time to think about that.” He ran his hand over his face, his eyes widening. “For the first time in a long while, I have a future. I can make plans.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “But right now, I'm worried about you.”

“Don't be. I don't want anyone worried or protecting me again.”

As though he hadn't heard a thing she'd said, he pulled her into his arms. “No deal, Livvie. I'm going to worry about you and protect you, for now and always.” He leaned back enough to look at her. “But protection and love doesn't mean controlling. You've never had one without the other. Now you do. It's going to take time for you to get used to that, to figure out who you are, what you want. Take as much time as you need. If you want to make wild love every night or if you just want space, which would kill me, I'm your willing slave.

“Now I know how it feels to love someone like my mother and father loved each other, like I see between Lucas and Amy, and Rand and Zoe. But I don't fear losing that love like I used to. Feeling this outrageous love is worth whatever pain I may suffer in losing it someday.”

He had said the word
love
before. As she looked in his eyes, she saw it. And felt it, glowing inside her like a warm
ing fire. She touched his face, tracing his mouth. “I may not know who I am, but I have an idea: a little wild, a little sensible, not so much of a rule-follower anymore, not CIA. Definitely Pebbles Bamm-Bamm. I do know what I want: you. I love that you would give me time to figure it out, on my terms. I love that you would help me forgive a man who has done so much to hurt you. But mostly, I love you. And that's all I need to know right now.”

“Don't,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “Don't say I love you?”

He smiled. “Don't ever stop loving me.”

“No chance of that.”

“We'd better finish up here and find out what's going to change everything…again.” He looked worried, and she knew that, whatever it was, her father was involved in it.

He paused. “This substance inside us—me—could make me crazy someday.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “I know that what's inside you is stronger than that. And that we'll handle it together.”

 

They all pulled up to Wallace's compound that evening. A chain that had once stretched across the gravel road was down. Lights intermittently lit the road that led to a square house. Nicholas and Olivia had driven separately, holding hands the entire way.

Everyone got out of the cars, and Rand and Zoe parked the motorcycle. The night was dark, filled with the sound of crickets, a chill in the air—or was it just Nicholas? They stood in front of the open gate that led to a courtyard. Colored lights sprayed the foliage, making it look like a piece of paradise.

A woman's scream pierced the air. Olivia stiffened, fear in her eyes. She'd been through so much.

“It's just a peacock,” Amy said. She inhaled deeply, taking them all in. “Are we ready for the truth? He made it sound ominous.”

Nicholas noticed they'd all carefully avoided speculation. Or maybe, like him, they just couldn't imagine what it could be. The chance to discover the truth was the only thing that kept them from falling into an exhausted sleep. He brushed his hand against Olivia's cheek, feeling an exquisite mix of joy, love, and protectiveness flow through him. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She looked so delicate, so fragile, but he knew her strength. That strength would get her through these next few hours, days, and months.

“Nicholas? Olivia?”

He pressed Olivia's hand to his mouth, and they joined the rest of the group. Amy led the way to the entrance and pressed the doorbell. She had told him and Olivia about Magnus and Lachlan and what had happened during the rescue, so Nicholas assumed the big guy opening the door in a kilt, his hair a mass of curls, was Magnus.

“Come to the lab,” he said without preamble.

The foyer was a narrow hallway, with a door that led out to another courtyard. Magnus walked through it, his shoulders drooping, his shirt bedraggled and dirty. The shadow of defeat darkened his eyes. The lights were blazing in one of the rooms of the square house.

He looked at them when he reached the door to that room. “Lachlan is beyond himself. Be prepared.”

They walked into what looked like a lab hit by a hurricane. Lachlan was sitting among the debris, looking through a box of pictures. He shot them a bloodshot glare. “Who started the fire?”

“I did.” Eric didn't look the least bit cowed. “I tried to set the son of a bitch on fire.”

Magnus asked, “Is he dead?”

“Yes.” Thankfully Eric didn't elaborate.

Lachlan stood and stumbled toward them, stopping in front of Eric. “So is my father. You could have killed us all. What the hell were you thinking? Not of us, not of your people.”

Eric followed Lachlan's gaze, looking at Nicholas, at Lucas, then Amy. Something changed in Eric's eyes. The fire of revenge died.

Lachlan tilted his head. “You set people on fire? That's your ability?”

“Yes.”

Nicholas didn't see that smug glow Eric had when he'd told Nicholas what he could do.

Lachlan leaned into Eric's face. “I'll bet you think you can control it, because you're so damned powerful. You have no idea what this power can do to you.” He nodded to the group. “Or to them. And when you hurt one of your own, you will want to kill yourself every minute of every day, and nothing can take the pain away. But living with it is the best, most appropriate punishment. I don't wish that on you, but I predict it. Because I see in your face what I saw in my own not long ago. Now, when I look in the mirror, I see the hole I put into my mother, the blood, and the pain I have caused all of us. I don't have to be psychic to know you will be seeing the same thing someday.” He turned and walked back to the box he'd been organizing.

Those who knew Eric best watched him, expecting a biting response, no doubt. To their surprise, he turned away, not meeting any of their gazes.

Magnus picked up one of the tapes neatly stacked in a box. “Before our father ordered us to leave him there, he told us what's in our bodies.” The group fell silent, riveted now on Magnus, on his next words. “He called it Blue Moon. He told me to find this videotape. And he said, ‘I hope you can handle the truth.'”

“We can,” Amy said.

They nodded in agreement.

He stuck the tape into an old VCR and turned on the television. “We've seen it, but I will let you form your own conclusion.”

A younger Richard filled the screen, along with flecks
of static. He was in a lab, but not this one. His expression was bright and shiny with excitement.

“It is October 30, 1984. I have found my most interesting slime mold yet. From the first time I witnessed a meteor shower when I was seven and trudged out in the snow at dawn hoping to find a piece of it, I have been fascinated with slime molds. On that day I found the most interesting blob of slime. I later discovered they're called
powdre ser,
Welsh for star rot. Some call it star jelly or star shoot, that last because it resembles sperm. I prefer
powdre ser.

“The specimen I found that day disappeared the next morning. From then on, I made it my life's ambition to find more. I learned of stories of
powdre ser
found in backyards, given to NASA for examination, who supposedly found it to be industrial waste. These rare, gelatinous blobs have been found over the centuries and are usually associated with meteor showers. They dry up when the sun hits them.

“I have spent years following sightings of meteor showers and have found four specimens. None exhibit any of the normal characteristics of slime molds other than their jelly-like quality. How this jelly survives its entrance into the Earth's atmosphere is a mystery, too.”

Lachlan and Magnus watched their father's image with haunted expressions.

Richard walked over to a table and held up a large petri dish filled with an opaque jelly of a blue-violet hue. He lifted it with the gentleness and awe of a man holding his newborn baby for the first time. “I heard about a particularly interesting sighting in Arcadia, Virginia, and immediately dispatched myself there.”

Nicholas and Olivia looked at each other. “That's where the aircraft with the eye went down.”

Richard wore a conspiratorial expression. “I found this.” He wiggled the dish. “The small specimen has grown by
30 percent in four days, something I've never observed in a slime mold before. I've heard what sounds like a heartbeat, faint as can be, though I know it can't be, because it has no heart. And it moves. Moves! I caught it trying to climb over the edge of the dish. I have cut portions away, to no apparent detriment of the entire piece, and studied its nature. Its cell structure compares to nothing in nature or other
powdre ser
I have seen. It is
fascinating.
I think I'm in love.”

The screen went blank for a few seconds, then Richard returned. “The date is November 14, 1984. A most unusual thing has happened. I accidentally ingested Blue Moon. I have a bad habit, as my wife is wont to remind me, of eating while in my lab. I was studying Blue Moon whilst eating tuna salad on rye. I had gone for seven minutes, twenty-four seconds to get more to drink, then I returned, immersed in my notes as I ate. I noticed an odd taste after several bites. That was when I looked at my plate and saw that the mass had moved onto my sandwich. I wasn't worried, but I did make note of it, should I die. At least Astrid would know what had happened.

“I didn't die. I did notice that my ability to astral project had increased. Not only could I see my destination—I could touch things, move them.” He wiggled his fingers. “And the process was much quicker. I'm sure it's Blue Moon. This has helped me immensely in my work on a classified research program. It is
amazing.
I wonder what would happen if I ingested more?”

Magnus turned off the tape. “Unfortunately, the tape gets warped from here. We've searched, but there's nothing more about BLUE EYES or the program. But you get the idea.”