by Jessica Gunn
My finger fell just short of the execute button.
Footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, bouncing off the walls. A half dozen of them.
“Are you kidding me?” I growled, pressing against the bars with all I had, scrambling for that extra inch. When it didn’t come I spun on the rest of the group. No, Dr. Hill and Pike were too big to fit between the bars, and Chelsea’s arms were too short to reach. “Sophia!”
She looked up at me. “Yes?”
I pointed to the green button on the far side of the screen. “Can you reach that? I’m trying to mess with their power generation system. I’m hoping to adjust the EMF fields in the area enough to shift whatever program they’re using to shut your powers down.” Thompson had used that tactic on SeaSat5, had used my own Hummingbird system against me, to keep Chelsea’s powers at bay while he kidnapped the station. “I just need you to hit that button and then—”
She didn’t let me finish before crossing the room in quick, wide strides. I moved out of her way and she fished between the bars for the tablet… also coming up just too short.
“Push on my shoulder,” she said. “No matter what. We’re so close.”
I gulped and locked eyes with her. “Okay.”
I pushed. Sophia gritted her teeth, her shoulder coming close to popping out of its socket, as she reached and reached until—
“Got it,” she said, tapping the screen. She fell away from the bars and released a huge breath.
Before I could say, “Good job,” something caused the temperature of the air in the room to noticeably rise. Chelsea’s eyes cut to Sophia’s, some unspoken understanding passing between them.
“What is it?” I asked.
She nodded and Chelsea was past me in seconds. They each grabbed a bar on the cell door and tugged in opposite directions at exactly the same time the guards rushed the room. Between the two of them, a man-sized hole appeared in the metal.
“Go, now!” Pike ordered, tackling the first guard.
Chelsea and Sophia entered the fray, swiping water from the air to knock the guards over onto their asses. Sophia ripped off one of the bars and swung it like a bat. Within moments the six guards were dispatched, unconscious inside the cell.
We filed quickly through the opening in the bars and headed for the puzzle game room. Germay would still be there, analyzing our results. She’d still have the sickle with her, our Return Piece.
A dozen guards barreled down on us the second we entered the game room. The harsh lighting scorched my eyes. Germay stood at a console at the far end, the soldiers acting as barriers in between us. I blinked through it and charged the closest guard. We crumpled to the floor. Chelsea and Sophia sucked the necessary molecules out of the air to form water, which smacked into them. Together, they were unstoppable, super-strong forces.
I forced myself off the ground just as another guard rushed toward me, and air kissed my cheek as I ducked under his first swing. Before I could back away, his other fist connected with my gut. The breath flew from my lungs as pain exploded in my stomach. I struggled to remain upright even as Pike tackled my attacker. I watched their scuffle, waiting for the opportunity. I reached out and snatched the guard’s gun off his hip holster. Squeezing the trigger, I fired and a green laser shot out from the weapon and burned the guard’s arm. Pike tugged the laser gun from my hands and fired twice more at the guard for good measure.
Pike charged toward Germay, who Dr. Hill was trying to talk down. Trying to talk was stupid right now. I followed after them while Chelsea and Sophia took out more of Germay’s guards. When Pike held enough of her attention, I ripped the sickle out of her grasp. Germay had been utterly stupid to walk by the cells with it in her hands, as if Chelsea and Sophia wouldn’t have seen that it was a Link Piece. Germay screamed in protest—until Pike threw her in a chokehold, hanging on tight until her eyes rolled back and she stopped struggling. Guess she wasn’t an Atlantean super soldier after all. So what’s the truth about these guys?
Chelsea and Sophia had a number of the other guards disabled in seconds thanks to the element of surprise. They clearly hadn’t expected either of them to have their powers back this soon. Whatever they’d done to take them away must have been an area of effect sort of thing, like EMF fields and what’d happened on SeaSat5 during the hijacking, but with some sort of timer twist. Maybe their powers were strong enough to buck against the EMFs the farther we got away from the cells.
I threw the sickle to Sophia, who held it with both hands. Chelsea touched one hand to the sickle and held the other out to Dr. Hill, Pike, and me. We made a human chain extending from Chelsea, and in an instant we were back in our home-time, standing winded in the Transfer Room. All we could hope was that even though we hadn’t finished creating a Link Piece to the Sargasso Sea cache for Germay she hadn’t gleaned what information she’d needed anyway.
I was so tired of relying on hope alone.
could not stand Trevor. Our rooms on base sat side by side. I’d known this since day one, but it wasn’t until I heard him thinking about it in his thoughts that I realized our beds were pressed against the same wall. I had no idea how I’d never noticed that before, but the second the thought flashed through his head, I’d committed to rearranging my whole room, every piece of furniture.
With my bed against the most opposite wall I could manage while still being able to use the bathroom door, I collapsed onto the soft fabric of my comforter. Whatever those guys had done to our brains, I hoped it was temporary. Seriously. Considering it wasn’t an actual ability, I had high confidence it’d be gone eventually. Hopefully by morning. It better be.
Great. Trevor’s thoughts sifted through. She’s mad. Good going, Boncore.
Well, of course I was mad. Let’s make my quasi-girlfriend relive the exact moment her life went to shit.
I’m sleeping, I thought in his general direction. Sleeping so I could go on leave tomorrow. They’d pushed back the briefing for this trip due to me and Trevor’s… condition.
Why being connected telepathically was important to completing the puzzle, I didn’t understand. Trevor didn’t have the same knowledge of the Waterstar map and Sargasso Sea Link Piece cache as I did. So why use both of us?
But that wasn’t what bothered me. Germay’s constant use of “connection” in her explanations did.
I can’t control this any more than you can, he thought.
Then stop thinking about what happened.
You mean like you are?
The newest Phoenix and Lobster song sprang into my mind, blocking out every single one of his thoughts. Maybe if I could keep this up all night until he fell asleep, I could be alone in my head.
Then Trevor started singing along in his thoughts.
Maybe not. I vaulted off my bed, changed my clothes, and headed for the door. Hopefully putting enough distance between us would stop this insane ability. Even if just for a few hours.
The inside of Firebolt, a club in Phoenix, Arizona, had become a second home to me. The first time I’d come here was when Sarah’s college friend suddenly moved back home mid-semester. She’d invited the band out to visit and play, so we did. Ever since that night, I’d come to Phoenix to gain sanity. And to, you know, avoid people. There was not a single chance I’d run into anyone I knew, unlike all the bars in Boston. And especially like the Franklin. I’d stopped drinking there after the incident on the first anniversary of SeaSat5’s disappearance, hence why Trevor and I had gone to a local place a few nights ago instead. What a shit-show that was.
I scouted the club until my eyes found where the bar laid against the back of the main room. My black leather pants hugged me tight, making my walk an unintentional saunter. I waved the bartender over. He was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, but his jagged smile was a deal-breaker if I ever saw one. Messy teeth and a creepy undertone to boot. Yikes.
I smiled back at him. “Jack and coke. Heavy on the Jack.”
He made up the drin
k and handed it over. I left a tip and headed for the dance floor. The ends of my maroon top swayed as I moved with the music. I danced alone, which was even better. If I wasn’t on stage these last two years, or stuck somewhere in time, I was at a club, feeling the music rumble through me like it could heal me. My life had become less about creating my own music and more about losing myself in others’. Like doing so could take all the hurt parts of me, wrap them up, and toss them out the nearest window, never to be seen again. And the alcohol wasn’t a crutch like last time. Or at least, it hadn’t been since the one-year anniversary. My drink was more a prop than anything else. I liked the taste of Jack Daniels, but there wasn’t enough to get me even remotely buzzed. I’d need half the bottle at the very least.
Luckily for me, the lack of said buzz made the presence of someone behind me less of a surprise and more of a welcomed change.
I glanced into the man’s eyes as he stepped out in front of me, falling easily in time with the sway of my hips. I gave him a small, encouraging smile. What the hell. I didn’t usually dance with anyone, but after the day I’ve had, why the hell not? Plus, Mr. Mystery Man was pretty damn attractive.
He slid his hands onto my hips and my body reacted before my mind could, inching closer. Melding to his touch, his body’s shape. Our eyes met easily, and his caramel irises captivated me. They were so strikingly different from what I usually went for that it took me by complete surprise. His fair skin was newly tanned, and he had a dark buzz cut and scruff around his chin. It only emphasized his strong jaw line, one that had parts of me melting in his hold.
The warmth of his hands through my clothes seared into me, lighting a fire I thought was long lost. I spun and backed up against him to dance. One of his muscular arms came around my waist, holding me there as I grinded against him. He was strong, but not enough that I couldn’t handle myself with my own super-strength if I needed to.
Every time his hips met mine, my breath hitched. Random passion wasn’t my thing, but if Mr. Mystery Man wanted to continue this, I could be convinced to change my mind. The way he held me wasn’t constricting, but firm. Almost like something you’d expect from a professional dancer. My head fell back and he buried his face in my neck. His scruff tickled as his lips found the perfect spot with ease. The longer the song went on for, the more we fell into sync. Stranger or not, he was beautiful and strong, and all mine for this moment. It was nice to have something like that, even for a few minutes.
When the song ended and my drink ran dry, he motioned to the bar. I followed and tipped the bartender again. “Two this time.”
Mystery Man’s eyebrow rose. “I thought I’d buy.”
I shrugged, daring him to override my decision.
He didn’t. I liked that.
The bartender handed over our drinks and placed them on my tab. I spun around so I could lean back onto the bar and watch the crowd. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“I’m just passing through,” he said.
Aren’t we all?
Now that I could hear it better, I realized his voice was deeper than his face suggested it’d be. Gruff, but somehow still like honey. Strong like the rest of him. The guy had the biggest biceps I’d ever seen, all barely contained in his black shirt.
“This place is all right. Good drinks, shifty people,” I commented. “It’s an old favorite.” One I’d somehow developed a connection to during the single time our band played a show here.
Mystery Man started to respond, but I ignored him. Something flashed out on the dance floor, metal shining against the colored lights of the club. Every time I caught a glimpse, the person holding it moved, weaving between the other dancers. I stood straight to get a better view, leaning onto my tip-toes, as a chill spread over my skin and I finally saw what I’d feared.
I placed my drink on the counter, barely getting out, “I’ll be right back,” before rudely leaving Mystery Man and stepping into the crowd of dancing people. My aim was to place myself directly in between that gun and its intended target. I came here to have fun, not witness a murder, and after today, that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.
I spotted the guy with the gun and immediately placed myself in his personal space. I danced alongside him, distracting him to keep him off his game. Someone made their way to the side exit door—his target?
The man growled and pushed me away from him. Yup, definitely his target.
He went to go after him, but I grabbed his free arm, the one not holding the gun, and pulled him back. “I don’t think so. Give me the gun.”
The man reeled from me, his hand connecting with the side of my face as he struggled to get his arm back. Pain exploded up my cheekbone and into my head, but I ignored it. I shot a foot out into his shin. The man lost his balance and stumbled, but didn’t fall. I lashed my hands out, grabbing for his weapon.
His grip on the gun tightened and I struggled to, in the very least, force the barrel up toward the ceiling and away from bystanders. Shots pinged up at the ceiling, the sound of them piercing louder than the thumping music. People fled in every direction, creating a circle around me and the wild gunman as their screams filled the air. I held onto the barrel of the gun, refusing to let go, as he continued fighting for purchase, but it was harder than it should have been. Way harder. Like the gunman was Lemurian strong.
I tore the gun from his grasp with all I had and pointed it at him. He instantly backed down from the fight, hands up.
“You should have listened to me.” I reached forward and quickly ripped his sleeve up his arm. That’s when I saw it: the same mark Dave had on his hand the night he’d mugged me in Boston. The night Trevor and I had met. The mark saying this idiot belonged to Trevor’s estranged family, or at least worked for them.
I had to force my arms not to waver. Guns plus the tattoo sent my mind into freak-out mode. “Somebody call the police so I can go home,” I shouted over my shoulder. I wanted out of here, right now. Before this guy figured out who and what I was. He hadn’t yet. He hadn’t looked at me with fear or wanting. Just annoyance.
The bartender dashed to the phone behind the bar, but then Mr. Mystery Man came up beside me. “Give it to me,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
He nodded at the gun. “Hand it over.”
“I don’t think so. I’ve got the military authority to hold this guy.” Did I? This counted as a citizen’s arrest, right? And even if it didn’t, he was Lemurian. Didn’t that make it my centuries-old duty to arrest him? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Army ID to flash at Mystery Man.
“So do we,” came another voice. “And this was our directive, so leave it to us.” When the second guy game into view, I looked him over. He had short, closely-cropped hair the color of sand, a strong jaw, and a scar that ran down half of his right cheek. In dark-washed jeans and a black button-down shirt, he didn’t look like he held any kind of position of authority.
“I think I’ll wait for the cops,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”
“Chelsea?” a voice asked, so familiar yet one I hadn’t heard in years.
It’s not possible. It can’t be.
The memories from the Altern Device puzzle screwed with my brain. For a moment my vision consisted of nothing but tiles recreating Thompson’s nasty, evil grin over and over and over.
“Chelsea?” the third man asked again.
I blinked through the memories. “Weyland?”
How in the world? My eyes settled on him. Lieutenant Adam Weyland didn’t look much different. There hadn’t been as much change with him as there was with me. At least, any change that existed wasn’t tangible. Even the tone with which he said my name was almost the same annoyance-frustration it was on the day we first met.
Weyland had been an MP, SeaSat5’s Head Security Officer, when I’d first boarded. The guy who refused to trust me for weeks because I’d gotten past his security systems by accident. He’d directed me when I’d gotten lost on SeaSat5 afte
r I’d accidentally teleported into the Lounge in front of everyone. He’d been there on the Bridge when I’d shot Thompson. My hand wavered ever so slightly as I held my grip on the gun and stared at him. He must have noticed.
“Chelsea, hand it over,” Weyland said. “I don’t know what authority you’re under now, but I’ve got this.”
Did he, though? Did he know who—what—this guy was? He must. He had to recognize the tattoo. Dave was his best friend, for God’s sake. The second guy watched me with narrow eyes. I risked a glare back at him before finding Mystery Man observing me with the same cautious look.
Now I planned to hold onto the damn gun because I had no idea what was going on anymore. Weyland. In civvies. In a bar. In Phoenix. Where the hell did they transfer him to after the hijacking? He wasn’t aboard when the Lemurians took the station. He’d been transferred before that, and Trevor and I had never known where.
“Chelsea?” he asked again.
“I’m keeping it because I’m confused,” I said, trying to piece it all together. My brain was still muddled from those damn tiles, brought on by seeing Weyland. I never thought I’d see him again after he’d left SeaSat5.
I shut my eyes to clear my thoughts. In the second they were closed, someone stepped behind me and stripped the gun from my hand, restraining my arms behind my back.
My eyes shot open to Weyland as I squirmed against the other man’s hold. “Seriously? You ask me to trust you and—”
“I told you it’s not what you think,” Weyland said to me, then spoke to the man at my back. “Let her go.”
He did so, and I took a step away from the group. First, I get telepathically connected to Trevor, and then Weyland pops up as a member of the Sketch Brigade.
The second man, who I thought was their leader, said, “Mara, take Truman and get this mercenary to the car.” They did, leaving Weyland, Mr. Mystery Man, and the guy in charge standing before me.
