Reese never stopped being amazed that the human race could be so set on destroying itself—and for so little reason.
This was a nicer part of the town than she had been in before, and the house was a decent size—the size of two or three typical houses, actually. The yard was large and showed signs of use: she caught sight of a volleyball net out back and a few toys were strewn across the walk to the front door. She quieted herself for a moment and listened for some sign of something more than human here—for the familiar buzz in the air, the smell, the sense of tension.
They weren’t there.
Frowning slightly, she waited for Diane to step up beside her.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“What do I think? I think it’s a nice place,” Diane said.
“I think so too. Which is . . . strange.”
“Come on,” Diane said, starting toward the door and stepping over a plastic truck. “Let’s get this over with.”
Reese found herself following Diane, smiling slightly. Diane might not want to be here, but she WAS here, and ultimately it had been her choice—unfair tactics or no. Even her bad mood was more indicative of a lost fight than of any intention to keep trying to stay separate from the Oneness. That battle was over, and Diane knew it.
She had gone to find April while the others fought their battle in the warehouse. On the wall she had seen April’s mural—the story of David and the hive and the betrayal of Reese. Maybe seeing David like that, realizing what a whole-hearted effort to separate oneself from love and community really looked like, had scared Diane into her new openness.
Whatever; Reese was just glad she was here.
They reached the front door and Diane knocked, looking, Reese realized, a lot older and more professional than her companion. Diane might have been a social worker calling on business; Reese, in jeans and a sweater, looked more like a recent children’s home graduate herself.
The door was opened by a woman whose tentative inquiry as to who they were transformed into a smile as soon as Reese mentioned that she had called the evening before.
“Oh, come in!” she said, swinging the door wide to a prettily decorated foyer, with a mirror, end table, and vase of flowers as its centrepoint.
“I’m Susan Brown,” the woman said. Reese stopped herself from commenting. Brown and Smith? These people might all have taken their names from a collection of pseudonyms. Susan was a woman of average height and build, with bobbed brown hair and friendly eyes. The warmth she exuded seemed genuine. She paused and indicated the closet if either Reese or Diane wanted to hang their sweaters up, but when neither did, she led them through the house, chatting brightly. Several teens were seated at the kitchen table, dressed for school and eating breakfast. Susan introduced them, and they said hello more or less dutifully. A boy about nine years old was sitting in the midst of them, holding court and obviously amusing two of them to no end. An even smaller girl, five or six, ran in from the dining room and waved, then dashed back out.
“Those two are Dr. Smith’s children,” Susan explained. “The Smiths both live here and oversee the work, as well as working individually with the children to help counsel and guide them. I’m the extra house mother—with ten to twelve kids at any given time, an extra mother never hurts!”
She went on, ushering them through the kitchen, dining room, and two family rooms. A wide carpeted staircase led upstairs, and she indicated most bedrooms were up there. Reese and Diane nodded and occasionally said hello to one of the kids. It was becoming fairly evident that Susan thought they were here because they were interested in contributing to the work somehow.
“We are a privately funded organization,” she said finally, when she had brought them back around to the kitchen. “We operate mostly on donations, although Dr. Smith does bring in some of our funding through his practice. As you can see, our aim is not just to give the children a home, but to help launch them into a stable and productive future. Now, would either of you like a coffee or tea?”
Reese said yes to coffee, and Diane asked for a tea. Susan turned to open a cupboard, calling over her shoulder, “Children, the bus! Finish up and get going!”
A few stragglers in the nearby living room jumped at her summons, but it seemed most of the kids were already heading out. The overall feel of the house was much like Susan herself: orderly but not at all tyrannical, as warm and genuine as it was structured and organized.
Reese had to admit she was impressed.
She sat down on a tall stool next to the counter and leaned forward, trying to sound nonchalant. “Is Dr. Smith in today?”
“Oh yes,” Susan started to say, but her eyes caught sight of someone else over Reese’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” she said, and then raised her voice. “Alex! You’re going to miss the bus again!”
Reese twisted in her seat to see a dark-haired young man, dressed in torn jeans and a black T-shirt, slinking down the stairs. He all but ignored Susan, rolling his eyes slightly and neither speeding nor slowing his pace.
“You know better than to go out in those jeans,” Susan called. “Dr. Smith’s not going to be pleased.”
The kid muttered something in response that didn’t carry past the stairs; hefting a backpack higher on his shoulder, he jogged the last couple of steps and pushed his way out the front door.
Just before he left, he turned and looked back inside.
His eyes locked with Reese’s.
And filled with terror.
A second later he was gone, and Reese was half out of her seat.
Had she imagined that?
Fear . . . why was he afraid of her? He’d never seen her before. Knew nothing about her.
The answer came without further thought. Yes, the fear was real. And no, he had never seen her before.
But the creature inside him had.
And it could see exactly what she was.
Maybe they’d found the hive after all.
Susan was talking. Diane nudged Reese. She snapped her attention back to the women in the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, what were you just saying?”
“Oh,” Susan said, looking after the boy with a frown, “I’m sorry about that. Most of our kids here are so good, but Alex . . . well, he’s having a hard time. Some really do when they hit their teens. Dr. Smith has been putting a lot of extra effort into trying to help him. Oh, but I was answering your question. Dr. Smith is at his office right now—he always goes in very early—but he’ll be here later today if you’d like to come back. He’s always happy to meet with potential new supporters and introduce them to more of what he does.”
She lowered her voice to an almost conspiratorial level as the coffee machine behind her started to percolate. “If you ask me, all his psychological training doesn’t have a lot to do with how effective he is. What he really does for these kids is just father them. He loves them, and they know it. That makes a world of difference for most.”
There was sadness in her tone. Diane leaned forward and placed a motherly hand on Susan’s, surprising Reese. “You’re doing the best you can,” she said. “It’s not your fault that boy isn’t responding like you want him to. Sometimes we just have to figure things out for ourselves.”
True, Reese thought. But this was not the conversation she’d imagined them having when she got out of bed this morning. She realized suddenly that she’d half-risen from her seat, wanting to go after the boy. But the sound of air brakes outside told her the bus had come. He would be gone.
“All the children attend the local public schools, high school and elementary, except one who goes to a private school where they’re better at dealing with special needs. All three schools are good ones, and we have a good relationship with several of the teachers. They know what we do here and work with us as much as they can. Most of the children are in summer school programs right now, since most need remedial schooling when they come to us.”
“Tell me,” Reese said, still distracted
but trying to focus back in on the conversation, aware that she might miss something that was actually important to putting the pieces together, “if you could sum up the mission of this home in one word, what would it be?”
Susan smiled. “Why don’t I let Dr. Smith answer that?” she said. “You may be the first person who’s actually asked that question unprompted, but he answers it all the time anyway. And he does a better job than I would at explaining the one word. What do you think? Can you come back this afternoon? Or stay? You’d be welcome to stay.”
Reese got the feeling this wasn’t a usual invitation. Susan seemed to have warmed to them both; her invitation wasn’t polite, it was eager.
“I think we can stay,” Diane said. She raised an eyebrow at Reese. “We don’t have another appointment until later, do we?”
“No,” Reese said. “Sure, we’ll stay. Thank you.”
She felt vaguely guilty for taking up the woman’s time when it was unlikely either she or Diane would end up as financial donors, but Susan seemed so pleased at their acceptance that it wiped away much of the guilt. Her interest in them didn’t seem primarily financial anyway.
The house, emptied of children, was quiet, and Reese heard the hum of a garage door opening. “Oh, Valerie! Good!” Susan said. She got busy pulling out an extra mug and pouring more coffee. “Valerie is Dr. Smith’s wife and the other counselor here,” she said. “She’ll just be getting back from taking Sandy to school . . . she’s the deaf teen I told you about, the one who goes to a private school.”
The inside garage door opened and an attractive, professionally dressed woman stepped in. Blonde, styled hair and a perfectly tailored blue suit made her every inch the professional, but there was nothing superior in her expression as she approached and shook Reese and Diane’s hands, greeting them warmly before Susan had even had a chance to introduce them.
“This is Diane and her daughter, Reese,” Susan said. “They’re interested in our work here, and I just invited them to stay until Vince gets back.”
“Sounds great,” Valerie answered. “I’m glad you’re here. Do you like what you’ve seen so far?”
“Yes,” Reese answered truthfully, not bothering to correct Susan’s impression about her relationship with Diane. She did like everything she had seen.
All except the demon in one boy’s eyes.
But how to fit that with these people and everything else about this place, she had no idea.
Dr. Smith held the key. He had to. After all, it was he April had seen and faced off at Nick’s house—he April had actually rescued the boy from.
Standing here, now, that was incredibly hard to believe.
Valerie stood and chatted for a minute more, exchanging a bit of information about the deaf student with Susan and then remarking again on how glad they were to have Reese and Diane visiting, and then excused herself to spend some time with her daughter before a counseling appointment.
“Dr. Smith and Valerie live upstairs in the left wing,” Susan explained. “They have a few rooms converted into a complete apartment so their family has some ability to separate from the rest of the house when they need to. It’s good for their kids, I think, especially since they’re so much younger than most of the others.”
Reese noticed that Susan viewed the home kids as just “others,” other kids, other children, not students or subjects or some other category of human that didn’t quite equal the status of the Smith kids. April had told her a story or two about being fostered and how, in one home, she had felt like some other species of human than the foster family. The more she saw of this place, the more she liked it.
Dr. Smith, she reminded herself. Dr. Smith will hold the key.
“Well, ladies, please make yourselves comfortable,” Susan said. “I need to make a few phone calls from the home office and then I’ll be out again. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock—the office is just down that hall.”
Susan vanished, leaving Reese and Diane to their coffees and each other.
“Well,” Reese said.
“This is nothing like you expected, is it?” Diane asked.
“That might be an understatement.”
“You’re sure you don’t have the wrong place?”
“How many Dr. Vincent Smiths, specializing in child psychology, can there be near Lincoln? This has to be the right place. I think we’ll know more when we meet him.”
Diane huffed into her coffee cup but said nothing.
Moments later she emerged and said, “I don’t think this is going to get us closer to Chris. But I think he’d like it here. He’s such a protector, and these people seem to really care about these kids.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Reese answered quietly.
“Be careful with that son of mine,” Diane told her. “You know you have his heart.”
Reese swallowed hard and nodded.
“But you won’t give yours in return, will you? Because he’s not Oneness?”
“Diane . . .” Reese struggled for words. “You haven’t walked with us, or acknowledged us, for a lot of years. But you know what Oneness is. Surely you do. Surely you understand why I can’t just pretend that doesn’t mean anything.”
She lowered her voice as though someone else was listening, as though anyone else in this house would know or care what they were talking about. “I care about Chris, a lot. He and Tyler saved me. Not just by pulling me out of the bay—they gave me a reason to fight and a reason to believe in love again. I can’t overstate how much that means to me.”
“And Chris is special,” Diane pushed. “There’s something between him and you that isn’t there between Tyler and you.”
“I can’t argue with that. But it can only go so far.”
Diane looked away.
“Please understand,” Reese said. “He already has my heart—in some way. I just don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. In the real world, here where we all have to live.”
“You could push him to convert, or whatever you call it,” Diane said. “Like I should have pushed my husband and didn’t.”
“Would he really have responded to being pushed?”
Reese asked the question carefully, knowing how deep a wound she was feeling around.
Diane’s eyes were full of tears. “Do you know what hurt most?” she asked. “Oh, I always said it was losing him. It was that Mary held me back and didn’t let me go fight for him. But really, the thing that hurt most is that he was never Oneness. That I never got to know, with him, the depth of connection I know with Richard, or Mary, or even you. And I loved him. I still love him. More than anyone.”
The office door opened to the sound of Susan just finishing up a call with someone, cheerful and friendly as ever. Diane hastily wiped her eyes, and Reese took a swallow of coffee. Her hands were shaking slightly. She didn’t think it was the effect of the caffeine.
You didn’t betray him, she wanted to tell Diane.
But Susan walked back into the kitchen, and she couldn’t.
“We’re in luck!” the housemother announced. “I just spoke with Dr. Smith, and he’s going to come back to the house now to meet with you. All his appointments are for later, and he said he’d rather come see you than do paperwork at the moment.” Her eyes sparkled. “I told him you were special.”
Reese’s mind went into an immediate attempt to interpret that. What exactly could this woman see? Did she know they were Oneness? Was this a trap?
Her heart was racing. Realizing that her hand was shaking even harder than before, she nevertheless raised the coffee to her lips and took another swallow. Easy, she told herself. Calm down.
Even if it was a trap, if Dr. Smith was coming back here empowered by the devil himself, Reese would be able to handle it. He was just one man, and she had faced demonic entities before. Alone, even.
And this time, she told herself as she glanced at Diane, she wasn’t alone.
“That’s wonderful,” she h
eard Diane saying. Covering for her companion’s sudden attack of panic. “We’re really looking forward to meeting him.”
Dr. Smith’s office couldn’t have been far away, because only ten minutes later—ten minutes mercifully filled by Susan’s telling stories of children who had graduated from the home and gone into college and were doing well—Reese heard the hum of the double garage door again. Moments later a short, balding, energetic man with a warm smile and sparklingly intelligent eyes bounced into the house, across the floor, and into a double-handed, sincerely welcoming handshake.
Reese, on the other end of the handshake, had been prepared for anything but this.
“I’m Dr. Smith,” he said. “Welcome, welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.” He greeted Diane just as warmly and then pulled up a stool at the counter beside them, angling himself so they could both see him. “Good day so far, Susan?” he asked.
“All except Alex,” she said. “Nearly late for school and so much attitude again. Has he told you yet where he went last week?”
“Afraid not,” Dr. Smith said. He sighed, a particular fussy kind of sigh given by someone trying to work out a problem but without success. “You’re doing well, Susan. Just keep an eye on things. Let me know if he seems to be affecting anyone else. I want to give him time, but I don’t want his attitude spreading—and I really don’t want any of the other kids sneaking out. He won’t tell me where he goes, but I have a bad feeling about it.”
Reese listened to the exchange with interest. She was watching Dr. Smith as closely as she could without drawing attention to herself, but she couldn’t see any sign of a demonic presence about him at all. He fit this place. In fact, his spirit was likely the heart of this place. Warm, open, wise.
“So, these ladies had a question for you,” Susan said, sounding pleased and proud. “They want to know . . .”
“Well, now, let them ask it,” Dr. Smith said, his eyes still smiling with good humour.
“I wanted to know,” Reese said, “if you had to sum up your mission here in one word, what it would be?”
The smile vanished from his eyes, replaced by a serious-mindedness that was every bit as attractive as the smile.
Hive Page 11
