by Tamar Sloan
Except Tristan can hear and smell, but he can’t see. And he can’t feel a thing.
He has no idea where his limbs are or what they’re doing. It’s as if he’s nothing more than a floating brain.
“Zarius?”
It’s Tess. And that one trembling word says it all—she’s scared.
“He’s alive, but out of it. He was shot.”
What? No! I’m here! Tristan struggles against whatever’s holding him down. He needs to give them a sign—a moan, a flutter of the eyelids, flick the bird to the Skins they just whooped.
But he can’t. Feel. A. Thing.
“Oh, Tristan,” Tess moans.
“We need to get him home.” Zarius’s voice is strained. “You sit with him in the back. I’ll drive.”
There’s the sound of rustling, of car doors slamming, of an engine starting. Tristan pictures his body sprawled across the back seat, his head in Tess’s lap. Zarius would be driving like a demon.
“His breathing is regular,” Tess states calmly. “Oh god, his pulse! It’s so slow, Zarius!”
Tess’s voice hikes up and Tristan wishes he could grip the hand that would be wrapped around his wrist. He’s not about to kick anyone’s ass right now, but he’d give anything to tell Tess he’s not two steps away from death.
Whether that’s the truth or not, doesn’t matter. Reassuring Tess does.
“He’s going to be fine, Tess.”
Tristan hopes the steely determination in Zarius’s voice is enough to dial down Tess’s fear. Tess freaks out with the same intensity that she does everything else—baking, fighting, loving.
“Then why isn’t he waking up?”
She’s holding her comatose son in her lap. They haven’t had to deal with anything like this before, but Tess has devoted her life to this little family, one not connected by blood, but woven together by something far stronger—love.
“Tell me a story, Tess.”
“What? Now isn’t the time to—”
“Now. Tess. Make it a good one.”
If Tristan could relax, he would. Zarius’s idea is genius. Tess loves to relive their memories. It’ll keep her busy.
It’ll remind her that they’d never let anything happen to each other.
“Do you remember the time he was five, Zarius?”
“He was five for a whole year. You’re going to have to be more specific.”
Zarius is pushing her to focus on the details. Clever guy.
Tess huffs and Tristan imagines her rolling her eyes. “The time he had the visions about what we were getting him for his birthday.”
The sound of a chuckle filters through Tristan’s senses and he wishes he could smile.
“He saw that he got a fighting stick that he’d later use on a Skin—”
“A bō staff.”
“That’s what I said. He saw you passing a great big stick all wrapped up with a ribbon or an…”
“An avocado.” The tension has eased from Zarius’s voice. He was hoping to help Tess, but it doesn’t surprise Tristan she’s easing his mind, too.
Memories of that evening fill Tristan’s mind. Without the sensation of his body, it’s like he’s there. He’d been elated by the first vision. Devastated by the second.
He hates avocados.
Zarius and Tess had no choice but to tell him the truth. He got the bō early and set himself the challenge to see if he could convince them to get him two sai instead.
Getting those batons with their pretty curved prongs coming up the sides had been quite the cherry on his birthday celebration.
“And do you remember the time he was six and he walked in on us, well…”
Suddenly, Tristan wants to bolt upright and tell them he’s fine. Of all the stories to tell! This is one he doesn’t want to hear.
“I told him I was teaching you the body fold defense.”
“Which he then wanted to learn.” The eye roll in Tess’s voice is apparent.
“So, I told him about the Gemini planets instead.”
Tess sighs. “He always loved hearing about them.”
The memory of his first time hearing about his home worlds blossoms in his prison of a mind.
“The Twin planets are the most beautiful of all the planets I’ve ever been to,” Zarius had said, sitting on the edge of Tristan’s bed after tucking him back in. “Unlike Earth, all the plant life is red. There is nothing more beautiful than looking down on a forest of red Ocana trees, with their luscious pink flowers.”
“What makes them red instead of green?” Tristan had asked, eyes wide with wonder.
Zarius chuckled. “I never thought to ask that question. Red was my normal. Earth’s green plants are strange to me.” He’d winked, and Tristan giggled.
“What else is different from Earth?” Tristan asked eagerly.
“Everything,” Zarius had laughed. “Because the planets rotate around each other in the same orbit, they frequently eclipse each other. The planets act as each other’s moons, giving each other the tidal pull they need to sustain life, and it’s so beautiful to see the red and blue orb of Gemini II in the sky on Gemini I. Earth’s Moon is so unremarkable with its plain white. I miss home.”
Zarius looked longingly out the window, as he often did.
“Will I ever get to see our home planet?” Tristan asked in a small voice.
Zarius looked back at him and smiled. “I hope so, Tristan. I hope we both will.”
“Of course, then Tristan wanted to know about the Gemini Twins,” says Tess fondly, snapping Tristan out of his reverie.
He always asked about them. Even back then, Tristan felt…incomplete. The words Zarius spoke that night have always stayed with him.
Twin orbiting planets. Two separate bloodlines. One moment in time.
For thousands of years, the Gemini Heirs were born at the exact same second. They weren’t only destined to become the Gemini Guardians, to wield the powers of their ancient stones, but were also fated to be soulmates.
And when their forces combined, no power in the Universe could defeat them.
“Will I meet her soon?” Tristan had asked.
Zarius had pulled the covers up as he’d tucked Tristan between them. “That’s the plan.”
Tristan had fallen asleep, secure and confident in the knowledge that what Zarius said would happen always did.
“And the topic of the body fold defense was dropped,” says Tess, a smile in her voice.
And Tristan never questioned why Zarius didn’t teach it to him… If Tristan could feel his body, he’d blush.
Silence descends between them. There’s the sound of the engine revving too high with each gear change, the odd squealing of tires as they take a corner.
But Zarius and Tess don’t tell any more stories.
“We have to make him better, Zarius.” Tess chokes the words out.
“That’s the plan.”
It’s a good thing Tristan is paralyzed, or the thought he just had would’ve popped out of his mouth before he could stop it.
Let’s hope that plan goes better than the one to find his Twin.
There’s the sound of more rubber being left behind on asphalt and the engine shuts off. They must be home.
The car door opens. “Quick, open the door.”
The rapid thumping of Zarius’s heartbeat fills Tristan’s mind. Zarius is carrying him inside. Who knows when the last time he did that was. When Tristan was three? Four? He frowns inside. There are no grunts to show Zarius is struggling with the weight. Time for more protein shakes.
Once he gets his body back…
The sound of boots down steps tells Tristan they’re going down to the basement. He expected that. It’s the safest place in the house. And where the nanites are.
“You open his mouth, I’ll pour them in,” instructs Zarius.
There’s a pause and Tristan feels nothing.
“Dammit!” Zarius’s voice has gone quiet. It only goes quiet when he�
��s freaked out. “He’s not swallowing. Quick. Turn him on his side.”
“Get it out, Zarius!” Tess shouts. “He’ll drown!”
Drown? There’s more silence and Tristan curses the black void he’s in. He’s choking on nanites and he has no idea.
“It’s fine,” Zarius says with relief. “His mouth is clear.”
“Why can’t he swallow, Zarius?”
“We’ll give him more. This time intravenously.”
Tristan notices that Zarius avoids the question. He wills Tess to ask again. He wills his body to work.
Why can’t I swallow?
“Here.” Tess’s voice is full of tension. “It’s a double dose. Just in case.”
It was only yesterday that Tess said they needed to be careful with the nanites. His pod didn’t land with an infinite supply.
Which must mean they’re worried.
To be honest, so is he…
“All done,” Zarius mutters, as if his jaw is wired shut. “Now, we wait.”
Tristan wills his mind to relax. The nanites won’t take long. When his body is working again he’s going to hug these two. Hard.
And then tell them to never tell stories in the car again.
Tess’s perfume tickles his nose. “Why isn’t it working?”
“I don’t know.” Zarius’s voice is so quiet Tristan has to strain to hear him.
“What was he shot with, Zarius? This isn’t normal.”
“I don’t know. It’s not a weapon I’ve seen before.”
Figure it out, Zarius! If Tristan could grab him by the shirt and shake him, he would.
“He’s breathing,” Zarius muses as if he’s talking to himself. “Pulse is slow but steady.” There’s another pause. “He’s paralyzed.”
Paralyzed? But—
“Oh god. We need to get him to a hospital—”
“No,” Zarius cuts Tess off. “He has nanites in his system. They’ll ask too many questions.”
Questions they can’t answer.
“But…” Tess whispers. “He can’t eat. Can’t drink.”
Last time Tristan checked, people don’t survive so well without food or water.
Suddenly, Zarius is a flurry of motion. “I’ll take some blood, study what kind of dark matter has poisoned him. There’ll be an antidote we can program into the nanites.”
“Is that possible? We only have a few days.”
“Chardis can manipulate dark matter to his will—it’s how Skins are able to turn invisible. It gives his weapons unique properties. It seems this poison freezes the motion of cells. I’ll just have to find a way to reverse it.”
Tess goes silent and Tristan wonders if she’s thinking the same thing he is. Zarius makes it sound simple, but they all know it’s not. He’s talking about subatomic particles, here. Ones that don’t behave the way anything else on Earth does. Heck, humans haven’t even observed them yet.
If the technology Zarius needs isn’t in the pod Tristan arrived in…
“I’ll get started.” Zarius’s words are hard with determination. “Tess, you’ll need to keep his mouth moist. A wet cloth wiped across his lips on a regular basis.”
“Already got the cloth.”
Of course Tess does. Caring comes instinctively to her. It’s why, seventeen years ago, she plucked a wailing baby from an alien pod out in the middle of nowhere and vowed to do everything she could to protect him.
But before anything else can happen, a beeping sounds somewhere behind Tristan. Instinctively, Tristan tries to leap into action. He’s been trained to respond to that alarm.
It’s the one alarm that means you act now, think later.
Except his body remains inert. Helpless.
It means Tristan has to lie there, motionless and vulnerable, as Zarius turns it off. The sensor is linked to outside the house. It detects dark matter.
Which means Skins are about to attack.
Zarius curses. “It’s the poison. It led them straight here.”
“They’ve found us?” gasps Tess.
“You stay here and protect Tristan,” says Zarius. “I’ll deal with them.”
What? No! Zarius is still injured from the last fight! And Tristan is supposed to be the one who helps protect Tess. He struggles against the darkness holding him, but it’s like fighting air…without a body. Mentally, he screams a denial. He should be beside Zarius, showing the Skins they don’t ever want to come here again.
Zarius’s heavy boots clatter up the stairs. The sound of Tess’s breathing draws near, rapid and shallow. “Tristan, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but don’t worry. Everything will be alright.”
Tristan would give anything to be able to reach out and grasp her hand. Tell her it’s going to be okay.
Then run up those stairs and actually make sure those words are the truth.
But he can’t even feel if Tess is holding him. All he can do is lie here. Listening.
Like a trussed duck waiting to be cooked.
A clatter echoes from above them, followed by a crash. Tess gasps, the sound even closer. More thumps then the sound of splintering wood carries down to them.
The Skins are inside. Zarius is fighting them.
Then there’s silence.
Tristan strains to hear why. Has Zarius won?
Have the Skins…
But there’s nothing. He can’t even hold his breath, strain his neck, for pitch sake.
The thumping of boots on the steps finally fractures the quiet.
“Zarius?” Tess asks quietly.
But Tristan already knows the answer. The footfalls were too light, too slow. They’re the steps of a man smaller than Zarius, one approaching with far more caution than a worried husband.
Tess’s sharp intake of breath tells him she sees the Skin. “Don’t you dare touch him.”
“Oh, Chardis is going to do more than touch him,” the man sneers. “It seems the poison did exactly what it was supposed to.”
Lead them straight to them, like a freaking homing beacon. As Tristan lies paralyzed, waiting for them to carry him out.
Tess’s feet shuffle beside him. She’s moving into a fighting stance, just like she’s been taught. Except she’ll be no match against a man consumed by dark matter. A man robbed of soul and conscience.
Zarius! Where are you?
“Don’t take another step,” Tess warns, her voice low and determined.
The man chuckles. “The whole plan is quite clever, really. There’s an antidote, you see. Once we have Gem secured, we want him to talk.”
There’s a subtle crunch as a boot scrapes over the concrete floor.
“Stay where you are! I won’t let you touch him!”
“You won’t be alive to stop me.” The Skin’s voice is cold as death, the words full of promise.
Tristan strains as he battles the invisible chains holding him down. But he’s in a vacuum. Powerless as he hears the Skin leap.
As Tess’s scream is cut short.
As something large hits the wall on the other side of the room and crashes onto the desk.
Tess!
14
Brielle
Brielle’s feet are heavy as she climbs the front steps of the orphanage. All she wants to do is go to bed and let sweet sleep erase the day. But she knows she needs to write her paper so she can go to her big dinner tomorrow. That is, if the Pierces don’t cancel because of what they just saw between her and Suki.
A sigh squeezes through her clenched teeth, and she opens the front door and walks in. She hugs the Abraham Lincoln book tight against her chest like a battle trophy, knowing it wasn’t worth what she sacrificed. Brielle imagines many of the soldiers who fought in the very war she’s supposed to write about probably felt the same way when they returned home.
She hears the whispers before she enters the common room, and she comes to a dead stop at the threshold. One of those voices belongs to Marie. After the recent confrontation with Suki, Brielle has
no strength of will left to endure a verbal beating from Marie.
She stands in the shadows just outside of the common room for several long minutes, frozen with indecision. The paper needs to be written, but Brielle would do absolutely anything to avoid Marie. There’s always the chance that the Brady Bunch won’t see her, if she’s quiet enough. But that’s not a gamble Brielle is willing to take at the moment. She could just make a run for it, although that might inspire them to give chase, and she definitely doesn’t want that.
Finally, Brielle adjusts the shoulder strap of her backpack, turns around, and walks back out the front door to sit on the steps. She takes out her spiral notebook and a pencil and cracks open the library book, resigned to write the whole thing out here in hopes that the Brady Bunch will be gone by the time she’s finished. She can always type it up later, even if it takes her all night.
What a coward I am.
She tries her best to push her troubles to the back of her mind and puts all her focus on the task at hand.
The wall lamps cast a dim light, making it hard to read in the cozy evening darkness, but Brielle manages to find more than enough citations she can use. Blocking out the rest of the world, she spends the next hour or longer—there’s no clock out here to tell time—writing what she feels is an excellent exposé about Abraham Lincoln’s politics.
By the time she’s finished, the sky above is completely black and star-spangled, her butt is sore from sitting on the cold hard cement, and her fingers are so stiff she can hardly flex them.
Satisfied and exhausted, she sets the notebook aside and leans back, enjoying the night air and wondering if it’s safe to go inside yet.
She looks up at the stars, trying to keep her mind as open and empty as the vast expanse of space she sees. But so many things fight to get in, all the things she’s afraid to face: Marie and her cohorts in the common room, whatever mayhem Suki will inflict on her at school tomorrow, the fragile hope of the Pierces adopting her.
So when Tristan pops into her mind, as he so often does, she welcomes him.
He thinks he’s an alien prince, and she has visions of bad things people have done. Maybe they really are perfect for each other. Two people on the outskirts of normal, albeit for different reasons. Does it really matter if he’s crazy? Who is she to judge? There has to be a reason why she’s so undeniably drawn to him. Despite his delusion, he’s funny, sweet, sincere, and gorgeous as hell! If he’s the best option she’ll ever get, is that really so bad? Maybe after the adoption is finalized, she’ll give him a second chance.
