“The encryption on Rylee’s consciousness,” Jonathan said. “You had Mr. Clean break it?”
Well, that was disappointing. She had nearly forgotten about Rylee for a moment. Apparently still the first thing on his mind.
She nodded.
Now he held back—must have seen how that name affected her. He was being kind again, didn’t want to ask the question that should naturally follow.
“It wasn’t the same—not like what you described,” Leah said. “I spoke to her—she spoke back.”
“Did she . . .” Jonathan stopped to sigh. “Understand what happened to her?”
Leah nodded.
Jonathan’s eyes tightened, holding something back, each time he chanced looking at her.
“What is it, Jonathan?” Leah asked.
“My father said that when my implant was active, it was like he was there, seeing everything,” he said. “Feeling everything.”
Leah nodded, but didn’t know what else to do.
“Everything,” he repeated.
Her eyes widened. “Oh . . .”
Leah blushed a bit as she imagined Rylee rolling around on the floor laughing. “I’m glad that I know that . . . now.”
She thought she noticed a knowing smile cross Jonathan’s face, but he seemed to be making a valiant effort to suppress it.
She laughed at herself, and it was as though she’d given him permission to laugh with her.
After it passed, he looked at her reluctantly again.
“Okay, really, what is it, Jonathan?”
“It’s just that there are so many things I wished I could have told her,” Jonathan said. “But I know you don’t want to hear, and I doubt Rylee would want you to hear.”
Leah sighed; she was really starting to feel like Rylee’s afterlife voicemail service. But, she wasn’t without sympathy for his dilemma.
“I think—Rylee and I have an understanding,” Leah said. “That and she isn’t all that private. If you only knew the things she showed me—”
Leah stopped, blushing as his expression turned curious. “Never mind.”
“Okay?”
“Look away, pretend you’re talking to her. Say whatever you’ve been holding on to.”
At first, he clearly felt ridiculous—but eventually he tried.
Leah didn’t make a sound. She wished more than anything that she could not actually be there. Not be the middleman, not hear. That she could just be an empty vessel and Rylee could listen without her in the way.
Finally, he began to speak. “I knew you were the strong one. I knew you didn’t need someone to save you,” Jonathan said, and then his voice became a whisper. “But I wanted to. I really wanted to get you out, to set you free. And I’m—”
“Oh God. Leah, make him stop before he goes full Dawson’s Creek!” Leah blurted out.
Jonathan’s eyes turned to her in shock as Leah’s hand slapped over her own mouth.
“I didn’t . . . I swear,” Leah said. “I wasn’t even thinking anything like that.”
Jonathan stepped into the garage, his momentary shock replaced with something between wonder and concern. “I believe you—the accent kind of gave it away.”
Leah blinked. He was right. She hadn’t sounded like herself at all. She’d sounded like Rylee using her voice.
Leah began to tremble as she stared down at the orange light beneath her shirt. “Jonathan, maybe . . . I . . . I don’t like this. Maybe . . . this was a bad idea.”
“Breathe, Leah,” Jonathan said. “Stay calm.”
“Just . . . turn it off.”
“Leah no, you can’t de—”
“Please, Mr. Clean, I don’t—”
They fell silent at the same moment. Suddenly, Leah wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disappointed or embarrassed. She wasn’t questioning every life decision she’d ever made.
What she was—was deeply aware of how close Jonathan was standing. She stopped staring at the glowing lines on her chest and became captivated by those on his. Her eyes traced those lines, followed them up until she found his face.
Her thoughts, for the most part, stopped—snuffed out entirely by something primal surging through her blood. She saw a tremor run through him. His pupils dilating as he met her gaze.
She knew he felt what she did.
Nothing her mind had to say was something she cared to hear. It all seemed so irrelevant—every vestige of doubt crushed under the weight of one profound need.
Tentatively, she reached for his wrist—as though the moment might be delicate. That a sudden movement could break it. But, when her finger tips made contact with his skin, a quake ran up her arm, spread to every nerve in her body.
This was the final straw and the end of gentleness.
One last breath passed between them as they held each other’s eyes, then she dragged his hand to her waist.
She wasn’t asking—wouldn’t even comprehend it if he dared deny her. Yet, he moved with the same insistence. He’d stepped into her. His fingers threading through her hair to take hold, pulling her toward him until she was pressed tightly to his chest.
Just before their lips met—before she closed her eyes—a thrill welled up in her. He seemed to pause at the very same moment. She saw a bright burning energy coming to life in his eyes. He stared at her as though he saw the same in hers. She closed her eyes and sought his lips.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
THEY LAY ATOP the shredded pieces of their own clothing. The Blind Blacksmith stood over them, like the headboard of a bed they’d made on the garage floor.
“Where did we get a blanket?” Jonathan asked.
Leah’s eyes narrowed as she rubbed a hand across the fabric. “I don’t know.”
The question hung unanswered between them for a moment.
“I detected a drop in your body temperatures and took the liberty—neither of you noticed,” Mr. Clean said.
Jonathan smiled. “I think I let myself forget where we were for a minute.”
“Yeah, that was nice,” she said. “You kind of have to, if you want to stop remembering there is an alien AI watching you.”
Mr. Clean made an unnecessary sound. What could only be described as a disgruntled clearing of his nonexistent throat. “For one, that seems rather hypocritical coming from an individual who was most recently employed by The Cell.”
Leah let out a long pouty breath. “Never hearing the end of that.”
“And two, is it not far more an impropriety that the two of you engage in an act of fornication whilst literally lying on top of me—or that I noticed?”
Jonathan and Leah exchanged a look.
“In retrospect, we may not have the moral high ground,” he said.
“Yep, I retract my comment,” Leah said. “Thank you for the blanket—very thoughtful.”
“Your apology is accepted but quite unnecessary,” Mr. Clean said. “In the future, just know, I am literally incapable of not noticing what takes place within my own boundaries.”
Jonathan gave the voice a thumbs up. Leah, however, had suddenly grown quiet. Her eyes closed, her head began shaking, and Jonathan saw her cheeks flush. “Oh no.”
“What’s wrong?”
With a sigh, Leah said, “I just remembered who else was watching.”
Jonathan’s expression darkened as he understood, but he clearly had nothing to say to improve matters.
Leah sat up, holding the blanket to her as she pondered it all.
He was quiet beside her, and as he watched, her expression seemed to teeter back and forth as she sorted out how much guilt or blame she should take about what Rylee had no doubt bore witness to. “On the other hand, fair’s fair?”
She promptly laid back down, leaving Jonathan to frown at what had just happened. “What’s fair?”
“Never mind, wasn’t talking to you,” Leah said.
He wasn’t done frowning when Leah abruptly shot right back up. He watched again as she bit her lip anxiously.
“That said, I probably shouldn’t ever sleep with this thing turned on.”
When Leah appeared in her quarters, she was wearing different clothes, and a coat to hide the light of the device. Paige swiveled in Leah’s desk chair. She practically fell out of it when Leah suddenly appeared.
“That’s so much easier without the teleportation sickness.”
“Finally! It’s like defcon three around here,” Paige said. “Mr. Clean disabled the view screens inside the chamber. No one knows where Heyer is or what the hell Jonathan’s been doing.”
“Oh, what did you tell them?”
“Nothing. Anthony and I all played dumb. Wasn’t going to tell everyone he was having an argument with The Cell’s spook twenty minutes after we got word of the conduit opening.”
“Hmm,” Leah said. “Good point, wonder what he’ll tell them.”
Paige frowned at her for a moment. “What happened to your clothes.”
Leah failed to keep a straight face. “It was uhh . . . a really fierce argument.”
Paige considered for a moment then shrugged. “Well, that is one way to resolve a conflict.”
Leah shrugged innocently—just as a knock came at the door.
Collin poked his head in. “You guys seen Jonathan? The evacuation broadcast is going out in the next few minutes, Olivia’s pretty pissed that he’s MIA . . . and well, she scares me.”
“Last I saw him he was on his way to the command pavilion,” Leah said.
With a nod, Collin left as abruptly as he’d come.
When Leah turned back to Paige, she was staring at her, fingers tapping away on the arm of her chair.
“What?” Leah asked.
“Thought your eyes were supposed to be on fire or something?”
Leah looked at the ground and nodded. “The bond isn’t fully linked until our minds have bridged.”
A moment of silence passed as Paige studied her. “Maybe I misunderstood what you two were doing in there.”
“Jonathan needed time,” Leah said. “Said he’d find me after he checked in with Olivia on the evacuation and Mr. Clean on the conduit calculations.”
“Does this mind bridge take a long time or something?” Paige asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
Paige groaned. “Then what’s his deal? Pull the Band-Aid off already!”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Leah said.
Paige’s voice became a parody of itself for a moment. “Oh, hello there, I see you’re about to be in a life and death struggle with an alien god. How about you let me upgrade you and the girl next door to super badass, you know, so you’ll have a real fighting chance. What say you, Jonathan?”
Paige turned in her chair, giving her impression of Jonathan’s answer. “Um, I need to procrastinate on this, I’m gonna go be broody while I think about it, forever.”
Leah smirked throughout the whole performance. “You done?”
She dropped the mocking tone. “Since I got here, I’ve seen Jonathan make difficult choices. But this—this seems like a no-brainer?”
“He’s afraid that with me in play, Malkier will try to take advantage of the bond. Break it, before . . . well you know.”
Paige’s previous certainty faltered. A moment passed, and her expression turned bitter as she shook her head. “I don’t buy it. Jonathan’s had a strategy and eight backup strategies for everything we’ve imagined Malkier might throw at Earth. If he’s known all along that Malkier would try to sever the bond, then he’s thought of at least five ways to use that knowledge to his advantage.”
Leah considered that for a moment. “Rylee said I’d be able to see what he’s thinking...”
“What’s that now?” Paige asked.
“Rylee, she told me, that when the bridge was open, I’d get a glimpse into his head,” Leah said. She had not had time to really think about that until now. “You know, it’s funny that neither Heyer nor Jonathan mentioned that. Rylee had to tell me.”
Paige blinked. “I’m just gonna skip right past how weird it is that you can talk to her for a second, because it seems like you just realized something important.”
“Maybe,” Leah frowned. “All the secrets Jonathan’s been keeping from Heyer and the war council. The things he says are too dangerous for anyone but him to know. Maybe he’s afraid, because he doesn’t know what I’ll see.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
JONATHAN DIDN’T SEEM surprised to find her waiting when he returned to his quarters. Leah had discovered that she too, had a sense of how far away he was now.
Leah walked to him, stared into his eyes, and put each of her hands on his shoulders.
“Mr. Clean, are you ready to deactivate my device,” Leah said.
“Yes but, Jonathan, this must be done in unison,” Mr. Clean said.
She looked at Jonathan expectantly.
He held her gaze, his reluctance far from gone.
“Leah . . . there are things in my head. They’re dangerous. Things no one should know. If we do this, there is no way I can be sure . . .”
“Jonathan, there is nothing you could know, no burden, that I won’t help you carry.”
He closed his eyes. “I already know that, Leah.”
Finally, after a long breath, he gave in, and opened his eyes.
“Go ahead, Mr. Clean.”
The first time he stood on the bridge, he didn’t know how he had come to be on his knees without a stitch of clothing. Yet while being naked in a strange place had left him exposed, he’d been engulfed in so much warmth and light that he soon forgot his vulnerability. The fog here was unearthly, warm, and heavy. Pressing in from all around like a blanket on his bare skin.
All he could see was the way the wooden planks of the bridge were laid out in front of him to follow. The bridge existed in two places at once—two minds at once. One half in his own mind, the other in Rylee’s.
The last time he’d come here, his bond to Rylee’s had been severed. The warmth, the fog, the light had all been gone. There was nothing to cross. A half collapsed bridge was all that remained—its planks stretching into the dark only to end at a drop into the void below.
Today as he found himself kneeling on the boards, it was as though he arrived while this place was still in the middle of renovations. He rose to his feet and watched as the darkness and cold were pushed away by a warm burning light in the distance. The bridge, broken out in front him, began reconstructing itself. Where the planks had once ended in a jagged edge over a void, a new way began to grow. At first it was like a mirage in the desert, but those waves of vision that would make him question the truth of the bridge before him faded to a shimmer, then left entirely, leaving behind a solid reality that stretched into the distance.
The winds returned, bringing that heavy warm fog.
He stood until he couldn’t see more than two feet in front of him. He didn’t need to inch forward in fear this time, he knew where he was going.
At that same instant, Leah knelt on an identical bridge. Naked, but warm and unafraid, she was a bit surprised. She hadn’t imagined a literal bridge.
“Excuse me, ma’am, are you in need of assistance, you appear to be bare ass naked,” Rylee said.
Leah sighed and turned to see Rylee standing behind her in the fog. It seemed somewhat unfair that Rylee was fully dressed in her motorcycle jacket, jeans, and boots. Even the wind sweeping Leah’s hair around in every direction didn’t seem to touch her.
“Can I borrow your coat?” Leah asked.
“Aren’t we a bit past modesty?” Rylee asked.
When Leah only stared impatiently back at her, Rylee sighed and held the coat out. Unfortunately, the moment it left Rylee’s hand for Leah’s it seemed to dissolve into the fog.
Rylee shrugged. “Was worth a shot, I didn’t really think it would work. This whole place is kind of about show and tell. You don’t get to hide anything.”
“Thanks anyway,” Leah said, t
urning to look into the fog. “You don’t seem angry.”
“Sorry?”
“I didn’t mean to make you watch Jonathan and me, but the moment it began—”
“Oh, I know,” Rylee said. “Don’t worry—it was hardly the nightmare you imagine.”
Leah looked at her curiously. “Not what I expected you to . . .”
She trailed off, as she saw Rylee was having trouble keeping a straight face. Actually, the woman was blushing?
“What am I missing here?”
Rylee suddenly wouldn’t look at her. “Let’s just say, the experience was more, um . . . immersive . . . on my end than you probably care to know.”
Leah stared at the other woman. When Rylee finally did look at her, it was with one eye, as though she were daring to sneak a peek at how Leah was reacting.
Leah’s mouth opened and shut a few times. “I don’t mean to be blunt here, but are you saying, it wasn’t really me, but us?”
Rylee tilted her head. “Let’s just say we went on a pleasant drive together, and though I was technically duct-taped to the passenger seat, I could still feel the wind in my hair as I took in the countryside.”
Leah closed her eyes—for the briefest moment. She thought she was supposed to be disturbed—but that emotion wasn’t genuinely there. Truth was, she’d rather have shared this with her, than learn Rylee had been forced to endure some cruel indignity. So, she didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. She let herself laugh. A small giggle at first, but then it didn’t stop, and apparently it was infectious because soon Rylee joined her.
When this ended, Leah turned back to the bridge. “He’s waiting for me somewhere out there?”
“Ah well, God forbid you make Jonathan Tibbs wait,” Rylee said.
Leah smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, I think this would all be terrifying alone.”
Rylee shrugged. “Yeah, it was.”
“You’re like a lewd, perverted, sensei.”
“Ugh,” Rylee made a face as though resisting the urge to vomit. “Changed my mind—get your ass moving, grasshopper.”
Leah smiled and took a few steps onto the bridge, but then she paused and turned back. “What if . . . what if you came with me?”
The Never Army Page 69
