Edge Walkers

by Shannon Donnelly

  She lay half in his lap, sprawled in his arms. Pulling in another breath, she tried to sit up. Gideon pulled her close, scooted around so he could cradle her in his arms, her back pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart beat, hard and uneven, just like hers.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he kept saying.

  She shook her head, patted the arm holding her with her a shaking hand. She found the scar Jill had left on him and rubbed it softly. “No. My choice. I—I’d hope…there was something…” And there was. It teased at her. Some detail had clicked with what she had glimpsed in her own lab—something about the black cloud released when a Walker imploded, something about the swirling black maw of the Rift. She shivered, tried to piece her memoires together with Gideon’s. There was a link here. If all she had was unobjective observation to cobble together theories, she’d use that. She could still feel Jill-but-not-Jill’s stare—that sparking awareness. She curled tighter into Gideon. “They’re intelligent.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  She glanced at the ring. It lay on the smooth, solid floor, seemingly harmless. If she had to touch that particular ring again, she might throw up. She forced out a stiff, fake smile. “Tough way to get an education. PhD’s must be scarce.”

  He brushed his cheek to hers, stubble scraping, and smiled back. She could feel the muscles on his face ease and lift. His scent wrapped around her, warm, earthy spice. “They’re not all that bad. And…well, some of Temple’s...”

  “Oh, I don’t even want to go there,” she said, and she thought of the one glimpse she’d had from Temple of his son. His kid had looked about sixteen. How would it be to lose your child like that? How would it be to experience Temple’s memory of that loss? Clutching at Gideon, she glanced up at the rings and twisted to look at him. He leaned over her, kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips, a soft brush of his mouth that spiked yearning and need. She kissed him back. Ozone dried the air—but that couldn’t be. The Rift had opened only in Gideon’s memories.

  She heard the tear first, that faint, ragged screech. Pulling back, she saw tiny holes, tears into the Rift’s spill of nothingness. The room shook, rings knocked into each other, chimed. She jerked away from Gideon and the Rift snapped shut.

  Eyes wide, palms braced on the floor, Carrie glanced at Gideon. “But we weren’t...it was just kiss”

  He shook his head, started to reach for her and changed the gesture into sliding his hand into his hair. “It’s getting worse. Or maybe…more sensitive?”

  “A kiss?” She bit her lower lip, shook her head. “That’s all it takes now? We can open the Rift with just that? Will it end up we can’t even touch?”

  He slanted his stare away. Sitting up, rolling herself around so she sat on her butt facing him, she pulled her knees in tight. That didn’t help so she reached for the laptop and held it since she wasn’t about to try touching Gideon again even though she wanted to. How was she going to deal with this world if she didn’t have the comfort of Gideon? She didn’t want to do that so she reached out, touched her bare foot to his calf, left it there, a defiant bond. “Is it possible that we’re destabilizing the borders between universes? Or maybe it’s my doorway that’s doing that and we’re an added trigger?”

  Gideon glanced at her foot. Looking up, he shook his head “I don’t know. Uhm…hard science.”

  “Not your thing? Right.” Carrie glanced up at the rings. She might find answers there. She looked to Gideon. Frowning, he sat still now, staring at the floor, not at her or at her foot, at that tentative, risky physical connection between them. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “If it’s getting wor…more sensitive—”

  “I know. Progression.” He nodded and looked up, his stare direct, bleak. “Maybe everything’s getting worse.”

  Because she didn’t know what else to do, she glanced at the rings again. For once, learning lacked its usual allure—the hope that one more fact would make a difference in her and to her life. But it really did matter now. She couldn’t give up. They had to find answers for far too many questions. Her being squeamish about not wanting second-hand memories—well, okay, they weren’t just that, these rings made your reliving harrowing moments. But the alternative would risk everyone’s lives.

  Time to suck it up, Brody. That’s what her dad would have said, except he hadn’t listened to his own words—not during his last days. He’d bailed on the family, and…and she still couldn’t forgive him for eating his own gun. Nor could she forgive herself for not being there—she might have stopped him somehow. She’d lost her mother, her father—she’d lost her team.

  She was losing Gideon.

  It never stopped.

  Pulling in a breath, she put down the laptop, and said, “Show me how Temple lost his son. Show me everything they have about the Walkers.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Most of what I know I learned from Carrie—I mean, Dr. Brody. She had the training to make sense of things. Or at least she made the right guesses. That’s why you’ve got to listen to her. You can write me off as a lunatic—I’m probably close enough to one…just…please, please listen to her. — Excerpt Interview Gideon Chant

  It was worse to watch Carrie experience the memories, the visions, as he’d learned to think of them. Far worse. He showed her the ones she’d asked about, considered trying to talk her out of anything more. But she had her shoulders locked back, her mouth pulled tight. And she was right. She needed to know, and he couldn’t think of a better way to communicate knowledge than with the rings.

  He had no understanding of how they worked. For all he knew, they plucked information direct from nerve endings and brain cells and transmitted it back the same way. Hell, it might just be magic. He should be glad that Carrie could learn so much so quickly. But he wished the memories came empty of all feeling.

  They didn’t.

  She came out of each one shaking, pale, eyes wide and wild. He put off the worst memory until last—Temple’s experience of when the Rift first opened into this world and his son’s death. There’d been an explosion and some kind of power surge. Temple’s son had been the first taken by Walkers, had stood with his father, both of them ignorant of the danger, staring up at the lights pouring out of the dark tear. Half a dozen Edge Walkers had fallen on the boy, split his skin, dug inside—and Temple had watched his son turn into something alien. The room—a lab not too different from Carries—had been damaged by the blast from the power surge and collapsed on them. Temple had dragged himself from the rubble, had gotten out. So had the Walkers inside his dead son.

  Coming out of that memory, Carrie caught a sob back, and Gideon pulled the ring off her finger and pulled her away.

  “That’s it,” he said. “You’re done.”

  “But there may…”

  “No. Not tonight, or today. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but it’s long enough.” He expected an argument. He didn’t get one and his stomach clenched on the worry. He’d been putting the rings back as they finished with each. Now he swept up the laptop she’d claimed and he swept her up, too, caught her close to him. She stiffened, pulled back, and he remembered the Rift opening because they’d kissed. They had some connection now between them that neither of them could control. Breath held, he waited. Nothing. No burnt ozone warming the air. No sizzle of reality splitting open.

  He gave a nod. “Not that bad.” He didn’t add the ‘yet’ and wouldn’t let himself think about what he’d do if it got so he could no longer hold her—he’d gotten very good at putting off thinking about bad things. Instead, he led her up the path and back to his rooms. He found Jakes and Shoup waiting for them.

  “Goddammit, I said—”

  Gideon cut off Jake’s words with a hard stare and a nod at Carrie. Next to him, she swayed on her feet, eyes half closed. Pushing past the soldiers, Gideon led her to the bed and eased her down. She woke from her half-sleep, blearily glanced up at him and mumbled a word. He knew what she wanted and he tuc
ked the laptop under her hand, pulled a cover over her, kept a hand on her shoulder so she would settle again and rest.

  Turning, he glanced from Shoup to Jakes and told them, his words hushed, “She needs sleep.”

  Jakes glanced at Carrie, a frown tight. He hunched a shoulder, put his stare on Gideon, and jerked his head toward the entrance. Gideon tightened his hand on Carrie before he rose and followed Jakes out. He stood sentry in the doorway, arms folded and feet spread wide.

  “What the hell is going on with you two?” Jakes asked.

  “Keep your voice down—and I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

  Shoup gave a rough snort and Jakes nodded. “Damn well is everyone’s business. I put up with you having your own agenda because it didn’t cross my orders. It’s now doing a helluva lot more than that. She looks like she’s been rode hard and put away—”

  “That’s not…” Gideon threw his arms wide. “She’s been learning.” He explained about the rings. Blank stares met his words and he should not have expected anything less. But he was also not letting these two near anything as delicate, powerful, or vital as those rings, so he had to explain because he couldn’t show them to these gun-happy idiots. When he finished, he added, “I’ll bring Carrie over to Temple’s room when she wakes. She’ll want to talk to you anyway. Meantime, if you want to help, dig out some batteries, or metal plates, or wires, or anything you might have that she can cannibalize. She’s still your best hope to get home.”

  “Fuckin’ only hope,” Shoup muttered.

  Jakes leaned forward to glance into Gideon’s room. Gideon resisted the urge to look over his shoulder as well to make sure Carrie still slept. At last, Jakes shouldered his rifle and gave a nod. “Morning then. Just keep in mind, my job is getting her home. I’ll do what it takes to get that done.”

  “Meaning you’ll shoot me again?” Gideon asked, mouth edging up, amused even though he shouldn’t be. It hadn’t sounded an idle threat.

  Jakes shook his head. Shoup shrugged and smiled and said, “Not sure it’ll do a fuck bit of good, but, hell, wouldn’t mind another crack.”

  Frowning, Gideon stared at the man. Jakes slapped Shoup’s arm and the two headed back to Temple’s rooms. Gideon looked past them, up and to where Temple stood. He shared an image of what he’d done—Temple should know Carrie had been to the rings, had learned things. A flood of approval came back, and Gideon sent a picture of Shoup and Jakes blocked from the rings. That drew Temple’s grim agreement. Heading back inside, Gideon lay down next to Carrie.

  He thought about pulling her in tight, holding her body against his.

  He remembered that first night, sleeping with her tied to him. The ties tugged deeper now, ones that lay inside him, wrapped around bone and sinew and soul. No one, other than Temple, had seen his crossing and how he’d lost Jill. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so open with anyone. Body stirring, desire licked his belly. He touched Carrie’s face with one finger, a light brush of skin to skin. Just that. She let out a breath and snuggled deeper.

  Frowning at her, wanting her, Gideon propped himself on his elbow and watched her sleep. He could store up the memories—the curve of her cheek, the flaring lift of an eyebrow, the smooth sweep of her jaw, the ashen color of her hair in the pale light. But he wasn’t sure he could live with just memories of her.

  She’d brought touch and warmth and a connection to someone back into his life. He craved those things now—her body, her company, the bright force of her personality. He ached to hold her. But what if that connection between them changed while they slept? They’d opened the Rift with sex at first, but now desire alone and a physical connection such as a kiss seemed enough to trigger an opening. What if it progressed, as Carrie had said, became so that touch alone opened the Rift? Or just simple desire?

  The loss swept through him, a sharp shear. It wrapped his chest and squeezed tight. He couldn’t lose her—but he would. If she stayed, this ability they had might get worse. They wouldn’t be able to touch each other. And if she went home. No…when she went home. He had to get her back. But he couldn’t go with her.

  He knew it in his bones, in his blood, in just how easy it was becoming to talk to Temple without words. That had always been difficult for him before Temple had healed him this last time. Now he could feel his connection to this world gaining strength. He was tied by the blood Temple had shared with him. On Earth, he’d be the misfit, and the universe would be trying to stick him back here, meaning the Rift would keep opening on that side. He couldn’t allow that, couldn’t risk his home like that, which meant he couldn’t leave.

  And he wouldn’t leave before he’d put Jill soul to put to rest.

  #

  Carrie woke with heart pounding nightmares chasing her, and warm breaths on the nape of her neck. The breathing—deep, even—lulled her panicked shallow gasps back into something that matched the ones behind her. It soothed her heart back to...

  Gideon. That’s who lay next to her. She caught her next breath and held herself still.

  He wasn’t touching her, however. It was just his breath on her skin, his warmth a fractional distance from her. She stayed where she was because she couldn’t risk more and didn’t want less. For just a minute, she closed her eyes and could pretend.

  This would be Sunday…or Saturday…a lazy weekend with nothing planned. They’d stay in bed, get up in an hour for coffee, bring the mugs back to bed. They’d laze under the covers, maybe shower together—she’d always liked the slide of wet bodies and soap-slicked skin. She’d run her hands over lean muscle, scrub him down, watch water and suds sluice over his chest, smile at it curving down his back. She’d turn for him, give him her back. She’d lean up against the wall, arch for him as slick, long fingers traced the line of her spine and slid lower.

  Opening her eyes, Carrie let the fantasy fade. She couldn’t afford this—they couldn’t indulge. She didn’t know what might happen. If a kiss could open the Rift... It had to have something to do with some sort of energy they now produced. She’d seen Kirlian photography of couples in love kissing, their auras merging into one. She’d found the metaphysical explanations for such things too glib, but she couldn’t deny the evidence at hand. Everyone generated an EM field. The one that she and Gideon put out when one or both of them became sexually aroused—something was happening. Would it turn out to be good something—or another disaster?

  She didn’t know. But she did know that, next to her, she could feel Gideon stirring. His breath caught, was held, let out. The bedding under her dipped, lifted as he rose. He stood in front of her, stretching, his muscles pulled taut and his tunic lifting to show a glimpse of the curve of his back. She thought of her fantasy of the shower. Regret for what could never be flooded in a crushing wave.

  Gideon turned, his eyes lit bright and his head tipped to one side. “Do you smell coffee?”

  She pushed aside her dreams, rose, and they followed the scent back to Temple’s rooms. Her stomach growled and her mouth started watering. She’d stopped only long enough in the Gideon’s room to grab the laptop. She’d left her shoes behind, and she stepped into the main room to find Temple awake and what was left of his family nowhere in sight. Gideon immediately crouched by the fire, inhaling steam from a stone bowl set over the flame.

  Tan water simmered in front of Shoup, who looked up and held out a slim packet to her. “Instant. Tastes like crap, but—”

  “But nothing,” Carrie said, leaning forward to grab the offering. “Caffeine’s caffeine.”

  Gideon took it from her. “I think I still know how to make coffee,” he said. And he did. When he was done, he handed the steaming stone vessel to her, and poured cold water for himself.

  “You aren’t indulging?” she asked. He shook his head, and she knew the reason without his having to tell her. He didn’t plan to reacquire a habit he had no intention of reclaiming. From that, she could only find one conclusion—he wasn’t going home with them.


  Throat tight, she looked away. She couldn’t deal with that right now. She needed a distraction and she got it when Jakes stepped into the room from the back of the cavern. Jakes sat cross-legged, rested his elbows on his knees, looked from Gideon to Carrie and said, “Okay, start at the top and don’t leave anything out.”

  Carrie glanced at Gideon—had she missed something last night? But Gideon turned away from her and stepped into a shadowed corner.

  With his back to the wall, Gideon sank down to the floor.

  Sipped his water, Gideon watched the others. He’d already decided this was up to Carrie. She should decide what to share or hold back. His only need was to make certain she didn’t end up getting hurt by anyone—particularly himself. But he’d lost all perspective about that. He didn’t know what he should say or what he could hold back. He didn’t know that any of this talking mattered. Not when it came to hunting Walkers.

  Carrie didn’t seem to think that. She took a long pull of her coffee, ran her tongue over her lips and started talking. She started with things Gideon already knew.

  How the Rift opened a door between worlds, how Temple had changed Gideon during the healing, left him so that he and Carrie could spark an opening to the Rift when they made a strong physical connection. She left the details about that vague. She glossed over other things, left out that the one Walker he hunted more than any other had been his wife.

  Frowning over that, wondering what that omission said about Carrie, or about them, perhaps. Gideon kept silent until Carrie started on speculations she hadn’t yet shared with him. He looked at her, startled by her words.