by Kathy Reichs
The flare came so easily this time.
The realization stopped me cold.
Usually, the transition all but floored me, testing my strength and endurance. And lately, that struggle had become more pronounced. I’d begun to worry my powers were getting too wild to trust. That removing the leash was growing too dangerous to justify the benefits.
Yet this flare had bloomed without the slightest ripple of difficulty, unfolding so gently I’d fail to notice anything was happening. I had no idea what to make of that.
Was there a better way to flare? Had my unconscious mind found a solution?
Have I been doing it wrong, all along?
A prickling sensation crashed my train of thought.
I wasn’t alone.
Close by, someone else was flaring, too.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
The flaming cords sprang to life—fiery ropes that connected my mind to those of my packmates. The lines thrummed wildly, illuminating then fading as they skittered across the black field of my unconscious mind. I could barely follow their frenetic movements. Had never seen them react like this.
One line in particular danced and twirled, glimmering with twice the radiance.
I sensed Coop, snoozing in his doggie bed downstairs. Calm. Unperturbed. But the wolfdog always seemed linked to our pack’s shared head space. His presence was never fleeting, like that of a flaring Viral. Coop wasn’t who I’d detected.
Concentrating, I shifted my perspective, attempting to impose my will on the links in the manner I’d tried the night before.
This time, the cords became tunnels with ease.
I didn’t hesitate, firing my consciousness down the gleaming conduit.
A shock of cold. A blast of heat.
Suddenly, I was in another bedroom, staring at a computer through thick-lensed glasses. Dark-skinned fingers pounded a keyboard faster than I could follow.
Shelton?
My vision lurched as the typist shot to his feet, head swinging wildly.
“Who’s there? Tory? Is that you? This ain’t funny!”
I felt an unpleasant tearing sensation as my awareness slammed backward. Outward. Like a pilot’s ejector seat. Untethered, my thoughts tumbled in a black haze.
I could hear Shelton shouting. Then, oddly, I sensed Hi’s presence. Both boys seemed to be trying to communicate something, but my mind was wrapped in cobwebs. I floated farther and farther away.
An image appeared, small at first, but rapidly growing in size.
Cooper.
My pet. Charging toward me. Teeth bared. Tail low.
Not rest. Bad place.
Hey, Coop. Good boy.
The wolfdog drew close.
Drifting, listless, I reached out a hand.
Coop’s teeth sank into my flesh.
An electric shock sizzled through my brain. My mind recoiled like a rubber band.
SNUP.
I awoke from the trance. Heard Coop whining and scratching at my bedroom door. I stumbled over and unlocked it. Coop bowled me to the floor, then planted his front paws on my chest and licked my face.
“Thanks, boy.”
• • •
Sixty seconds later, I was bounding up Shelton’s front steps.
He opened the door before I could knock, eyes wide behind his clunky black specs. Shelton slipped outside and followed me down to the common.
We huddled on the dew-covered grass, me in girly pastel PJs, him in yellow basketball shorts and a Green Lantern tee. The sun was just breaking the horizon, sending out tentacles of soft yellow-orange light.
“What’s going on, Brennan?” Shelton grimaced like he’d eaten something rotten. “I just emptied my stomach into the porcelain god. Do I have you to thank?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” In a rush, I told him how my flare had sprung to life on its own, and about the harrowing out-of-body experience that followed. “I think something is seriously wrong with our powers,” I finished.
Shelton looked everywhere but at me.
“The transition came easily.” I tilted my head, trying to catch his eye. “I could reach you with no trouble. Which means you must’ve been flaring, too. Right?”
Shelton bobbed a guilty nod. “I was feeling run-down this morning. Tired. Bad headache. But lately, if I flare for a few minutes, whatever’s bothering me seems to fade away.”
I was about to scold him—couldn’t Shelton understand how dangerous that sounded?—but managed to hold my tongue. At that moment, I was in no position to criticize.
But using our powers as some kind of magical cure-all? A way to sidestep the daily grind? My instincts screamed in warning. Nothing is ever free.
Every shortcut has a price. Every action, a consequence.
I was about to say as much when a door opened a few units down from where we stood.
Hi emerged, spotted us, and hurried over. He also wore sleeping attire—black pajamas adorned with the crest of House Stark. Where does he get this stuff?
“Where’d you get those?” Shelton asked, but in a reverent tone.
“The Internet.” Hi popped his shirt, then made hand explosions. “Serious business, Devers. They’ve got House Lannister, too, if you prefer reppin’ the baddies.”
“Why are you up?” I asked.
“Good morning to you, too,” Hi answered primly. “I saw you guys from my window, thought I’d mosey on out, and inquire into what just happened to my brain.”
“What do you mean?” Though I knew the answer.
“Well, I was minding my own business, enjoying some pre-breakfast toilet time, when I felt eyes on my back.” Hi frowned. “No, not my back. More like, inside my skull. Not a great feeling while manning the throne, I assure you. Then you and that mutt hijacked my thoughts and started dancing Gangnam Style on my cerebral cortex. Next thing I know, Shelton’s inside my head, yelling, Coop’s howling like a rabid monkey, and then something red-hot came and scrambled my brain completely. When I snapped out of it, I was lying facedown on my bathroom floor, which isn’t nearly as cool as Taylor Swift would have you believe. Oh, and I was suddenly flaring, FYI.”
“Oh, man.” Shelton reached for his earlobe. “That’s not good.”
Hi snorted. “No, Shelton, it isn’t. So, would either of you mentalists care to shed some light on these events?”
Glumly, Shelton and I filled Hi in.
Color drained from Hi’s face. “If we can’t control when our powers come and go, we’re screwed with a capital S. Hell, in all caps.”
My eyes strayed to the last unit in the row. It occurred to me that I hadn’t felt anything from Ben during the flare incident.
“Is Ben here?” I asked quietly.
“No,” Shelton answered. “I texted him last night. He’s at his mom’s this week.”
“We need to know if he felt what happened.” My tone made it clear that I wasn’t going to ask. “Are his flares getting screwy at all? Have any sparked uncalled? Find out.”
“Yeah.” Hi’s gaze flicked to Shelton.
“Um.” Shelton looked at his shoes. “About that.”
“What?” I knew I wouldn’t like what was coming.
Hi cleared his throat, then looked me square in the eye. “We told you Ben’s been flaring a lot, but it’s worse than that. He’s like a bonfire, all the livelong day.”
“Almost every time I see him,” Shelton confirmed.
Worse than I thought.
“Tell me everything.”
“You’re not gonna be happy,” Hi warned. “Don’t kill the messenger.”
“Or his good-looking buddy,” Shelton added.
I motioned impatiently for Hi to continue.
“Last week, Ben and I went to Captain’s Comics over in West Ashley. So th
ere I am, browsing back issues of The Walking Dead, having a grand old time. I look up, and boom. Ben’s rockin’ his stupid shades inside the store, burning like a Roman candle. My skin got tingly ten feet away. When I discreetly flipped out on him, he just chuckled, and kept strolling around. There must’ve been a dozen other people there.”
Stunned, I turned to Shelton.
“Pretty much the same.” He took a deep breath. “On Saturday Ben and I drove to Johns Island to see Skyfall.”
“You did?” Hi said sharply. “Thanks for the invite, jerks.”
Shelton raised his palms. “You were at temple. We’re supposed to just wait around? Plus, you’ve seen that movie like five times.”
“You still could’ve asked,” Hi grumbled. “I don’t—”
“Guys!” I clapped my hands once. “The story, please.”
“An hour in, I go for a popcorn refill.” Shelton shuddered. “When I get back, Ben’s sitting in the dark, flaring away, and he’s not even wearing his sunglasses! I almost wet myself. He said he wanted to watch the movie in Viral HD. Man, I don’t remember a single minute from the rest of the film.”
“In a theater!?” My temper exploded. “That stupid mother—”
“Hiram!”
Our heads whipped. Ruth Stolowitski was standing on her front stoop.
“Get back in here this instant! You’re not dressed.”
Ruth wore a fuzzy pink bathrobe, her free hand vising the garment closed. Her eyes darted, as if worried that cagey perverts were surveilling our remote island, waiting for just this opportunity to get an eyeful.
Hi covered his face. “Kill me now.”
“We’ll talk more later,” I whispered. “But no flaring until we figure things out.”
Hi nodded, already hurrying back to his stoop.
Shelton hesitated, watching me nervously. “What are you going to do?”
I inhaled deeply. Exhaled. Tried to keep my anger in check.
“Our top priority is hacking Karsten’s flash drive,” I said. “We have to access those files somehow. But we can’t forget about the Gable twins either. Not after what we found. Seems like our only move there is to identify the playing card. Let’s give that a shot before going to the police.”
Shelton looked at me funny. “I meant, what are you going to do about Ben.”
My mouth formed a hard line. “I plan on having a chat with him. Soon.”
Shelton massaged his forehead. “That oughta go well.”
I nodded, ignoring his sarcasm. For an instant, I let my fury boil.
I’m gonna rip you a new one, Blue. Count on that.
Five hours later, the bell rang for lunch.
“Thank God.” Shoving textbooks into my bag, I trudged for the classroom door.
Shelton and Hi waited in the hallway.
“Need to hit your locker?” Hi asked, straightening his inside-out blazer.
I peered down the hall. Saw Jason Taylor lingering.
Pivoting, I herded the boys in the opposite direction. “I think I’ll buy my lunch today.”
Running on fumes, I was too brain-dead for banter. Couldn’t handle a flirty chat to nowhere. No offense, Jase.
“O-kay.” Shelton hitched his pack onto his shoulders. “The long way it is.”
“So many gentleman admirers,” Hi mused. “Must be tough, being a heartbreaker.”
“Zip it. Unless you wanna see a leg-breaker, too.”
Hi shook his head. “And such violent thoughts. I blame Bravo.”
We worked our way around the building, eventually reached the cafeteria’s side entrance. Lunch-less, I grabbed a tray and joined the line. Sloppy joe day. Hooray.
Someone poked me between the shoulder blades.
“Sellout!”
I spun, slightly panicked. Ella was standing behind me, a sly grin on her face.
“I thought you were above common cafeteria grub.” Twirling, Ella flashed a dimpled smile at the two boys in line behind me. “Okay if I cut? I need to catch up with my friend.”
Both stammered their permission. Ella nodded thanks, snagging a tray.
I wish I could do that. Wait, do I?
“So?” Ella asked. “Was it a sloppy joe that called to you, or the microwave pizza?”
“My delicious chicken caesar wrap is currently trapped inside my locker.” A slight hesitation, then I leaned closer. “Jason was practically standing guard, and I didn’t want to deal.”
Ella’s mouth puckered. “You’re dumb, Brennan. Jason Taylor is hot, cool, and totes into you. Stop being a diva.”
I gave a very un-diva-like snort. “Yeah, that’s me. A Real Housewife of Charleston.”
“I’m serious, missy. Ask me, you could use a little Taylor-touching time.” Ella winked one gorgeous green eye. “Might ease the tension in your shoulders.”
My ears burned, but I forced a laugh. Ella was only teasing.
And the truth was, I loved gabbing like this. Ella was the first real girlfriend I’d had in . . . ages? Ever? I hadn’t realized how much I wanted one until she came along.
Don’t get me wrong, the Virals were great. Nothing meant more to me than my pack.
But the boys were always . . . well . . . boys. There were only so many Battlestar Galactica episode debates one girl could take. I’d seen Varsity Blues like twelve times.
Reaching the buffet, I surveyed a grim array of greasy offerings. Elected for an all-vegetable plate. The meaty-armed cafeteria lady who served me seemed to take personal offense at my choice. Oh well.
“See you in class!” Ella called as I headed for the register line.
I took another step, then stopped. “Come eat with me.”
Ella adopted a mock-serious tone. “Will your bodyguards consent?”
I giggled. “If Shelton and Hi are my muscle, I don’t like my chances. And yes.”
Ella received her bacon cheeseburger—because, of course, she could eat anything—and the two of us paid. Then we crossed to the Virals table in the back corner of the cafeteria.
Shelton’s eyes widened as we approached.
“So I’m not using anything but two-ply from now on,” Hi was saying. “Otherwise, the stuff just shreds—”
Noting Shelton’s expression, he abruptly cut off. Turned. Went beet red.
“Hey.” Sitting down as if nothing was unusual. “You know Ella. Okay if she joins us?”
“Okay if she joins us?” Shelton repeated. “I mean, yes. Join us. Okay.”
“I was talking about art supplies,” Hi blurted. “I’m into papier-mâché.”
“Thanks, guys,” Ella said as she sat. “I be starving.” She dove into her cheeseburger.
Shelton stared, as if he’d never seen someone eat before. Hi nervously fixed his tie.
I suppressed a snicker, but filed away several choice quips for the next time we were alone. I didn’t want to embarrass them now. I understood Ella’s effect on the opposite gender.
But later. Whoa boy, there’ll be some fun later.
“When are you coming back to practice?” Ella asked between massive bites of her burger. “Coach Lynch understands, but he’s getting frustrated at not having his starters together.”
“Hopefully next week,” I replied, munching a baby carrot.
Honestly, I had no idea. Recent events had pushed my burgeoning athletic career from the back burner to somewhere off the stove completely. But I didn’t want to tell Ella that.
“Sports are good,” Hi said. “To play, I mean.”
Ella paused, mid-bite.
“How’s the season going for you?” Hi followed up quickly. “Winning things?”
I winced. Stop talking, Hi.
“We haven’t started playing games yet,” Ella answered patiently. “I think we have enough tale
nt to make the playoffs, if no one gets hurt.” She aimed a finger at me. “And if our best players show up.”
“I see.” Hi nodded sagely. “Make the playoffs. Is that, like, a process?”
Ella eyed him strangely. “Yes, Hiram. Whether we make the playoffs is determined by our number of wins and losses.”
“Ah.” Another nod. “That seems fair. Good stuff.” Hi abruptly busied himself with his sandwich.
Ella flashed me a confused look. Rolling my eyes, I waved off her question.
I’d long since given up trying to explain Hiram Stolowitski.
“You plan on avoiding Jason forever?” Ella spoke through another mouthful of burger. “That doesn’t seem like a workable solution.”
“No.” Idly twirling my fork. “But I don’t know how to let him down easy. This isn’t an area of personal expertise.”
“Direct is always better,” Ella said confidently. “Like pulling a Band-Aid. Otherwise feelings get hurt. Then, suddenly, you’re not even friends.”
“I know you’re right. I’m just a wuss. I’m not used to being pursued.”
“Please. You could have your pick of these silly little boys. Heck, take two.”
Shelton coughed into his fist, eyes glued to his hoagie. I didn’t have to be psychic to sense how uncomfortable the girl-talk made him.
Get over it. I listened to you two doofuses handicap a wresting match between Kate Upton and Maria Sharapova. For once, lunch conversation will be my choice.
Ella and I chatted for the next few minutes. I cleaned my plate, surprised by the tastiness of the veggies. Score one for Mrs. Meaty Arms.
The boys ate in silence, though I knew they were listening to every word.
Ella finished her burger and dug into a side of fries. Hi watched, enraptured.
She couldn’t help but notice. “Would you like one?”
“What? Sure.” Hi smiled, made no move.
After a moment, Ella nudged the bowl his way. “Careful, they’re still hot.”
“Oh, no problem.” Hi fumbled for a fry. “I like food that’s hot.”
I caught Shelton slowly shaking his head.
