Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1)

by Arlene Webb

  He’d so much rather strip a breathing woman verses dress a wet corpse. His stomach knots lessened. The shirt went down over exquisite breasts quite easily.

  Aaron thought of Evan’s broken fingers and got to work on the rope. He’d never hog-tied even a hog before, but surely hands behind the back would be best. David raced in with epoxy and a plug as he finished.

  “You know, Dad, Malcolm really tried to make this Jane comfortable about color. I can’t believe she hurt them like that. Why does he want to help her so much?”

  “Because he’s a good alien. Think if your mom was here, she’d skin me for not taking you and running to the nearest black suit?” Too bad the FBI, CIA, any acronym for that matter, weren’t all clued in to the monochromatic’s choice of attire, guaranteed to reflect and not absorb evil color.

  David rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t believe Malcolm kissed Jade like that. And he hit you! But then Jade, you know, lifted him. He…his eyes are so pretty. Cold, but beautiful. What do you think he means? Are all the colors walking around in human bodies now?”

  “Not sure. I’d guess four more.” Aaron picked up Jane. “Let’s go hijack that computer. We may need to bail out Evan and Jade. It’s illegal to drive like maniacs.”

  He placed the body back in the basin and grinned at David. “Sweet that you found me an angel that can heal, but I’m gonna have to beat up a teenager now. What if they’re necking somewhere? I never got even a tiny kiss. First you, then Malcolm. Jesus, if he moves on her, I don’t stand a chance. I could take out you and Evan, easy, but a god?”

  “You’re so lame.” David punched Aaron’s arm while he closed the door on the yellow room.

  Lame? More like moron of the millennium. He wished he knew what the savant resting in the bath hid in his alien mind. David, alive and uninjured, and they should flee this strange situation before that changed. Orange could “wipe the floor” with the creature taken from a morgue?

  * * *

  Malcolm heard every word. He forced himself from the water, opened the drain, and strode into the bedroom. With limited options, he left on the soaked pants. He grimaced, pulling his broken arm through the last black shirt in the drawer. He added “purchase more clothing” to his mental list, and filed necking in the “figure out later” column.

  The son’s words disturbed Malcolm, despite the fact fear from a child, who preferred to be addressed by name, improved the child’s survival odds. Malcolm should want everyone so afraid of him they fled. Aaron, protective alpha-male, had hesitated to pull the trigger. Humans found it difficult to destroy or leave Malcolm. A terrifying insight, indeed.

  Despite power surges and imbalance, his indulgence to take what he wanted had been inexcusable. If Malcolm dared to zap Jane Doe conscious again, he’d do it correctly. Yet, her suffering that raging, unpleasant off-frequency was the reason Evan still breathed. The current in the tub had raised frequency thus lowering her strength, unlike the taser in Aaron’s hand had done to Malcolm. He’d desired to push Aaron aside, flung him instead, and broken the man’s wrist.

  Aaron made rational decisions with little info, and he erred on the side of non-violence. Someone Malcolm could rely on, thus a man to be careful with. Malcolm couldn’t let further harm come to the ones who had such a frightening need to help.

  If Jade took Evan home, it’d leave a clinger to drive back alone. The probability of that scenario was zero. The youth had a debilitating attraction for said clinger, stronger than the pain swirling round him. Hurt that better be completely gone upon inevitable return.

  Jade had barely listened to Malcolm. If she kissed Evan, she’d fry him beyond any healing ability. The upside? Evan would be finally—what? Malcolm felt something, a nagging emotion, sparks of—I care for him? Evan’s eyes, they lit so blissful with the infrequent tolerance Malcolm showed him. Oh my, oh my, oh my. Yet another reason for a bullet to the heart, head, and the hope Aaron repeated the sequence for him.

  Despite teen hormones in overdrive, one hint that he frightened Jade and Evan wouldn’t dare breathe, let alone attempt mouth to mouth with her. He’d be safe from a recently abused sweetheart, who feared everyone except the confident father she’d imprinted on.

  Five minutes, then he’d call to avoid another miscalculation on his part. Jade had liked the physical intimacy he’d forced. She’d wonder about a willing, experienced male. Pathetic summed up her reliance on Aaron. The man, not the youth, needed Malcolm’s protection. He must educate Jade soon.

  Malcolm filed worry and doubt in the “never goes away” folder. His false face serene, he strode to claim the computer. The hourglass drained. He must find Red and Orange before they destroyed themselves or joined the ranks of the serial killer club.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A driver overdosed on testosterone, a quiet color, and a mortal fool drove along I-40 in a terrifying blur. The situation had long passed Jaylynn’s control, and the moment had come for her to make a choice. Either die in a fiery crash, shredded by police bullets, or get her head bitten off. She couldn’t sit passively waiting for doom, could she?

  Jaylynn had tried to explain radios, cell phones, radar, and plane surveillance, but the arrogant, whatever Damon was, shrugged, concerned only with maximum velocity. The gas gauge hovered above empty. There’d be another roadblock, manned and armed to the max. The Arizona/New Mexico border station could be around the next curve. They must have made the plates in Winslow and issued that “dead or alive” warrant.

  “We need to get off this road. The police will find us any minute.”

  Damon grunted. “So? Let them.”

  Reality check—Earth has been infiltrated—get over it. Jaylynn felt comfortable with the exotic Caream, blanket still over her head, in the process of smashing the console and rearranging wires so the air conditioner worked. But one glance at the redhead beside her, and acidic knots twisted in her stomach.

  “Slow down,” she said, “and take the next exit. For a few days old guy, how can you be such a macho, control fr—Please, let me drive.”

  Damon yanked his arm from her. “Freak. Demon. Now, I’m this macho? Why can’t you accept Damon? What am I doing wrong? Other than driving safer than an unreasonable woman who’s always afraid.” He swerved onto an exit ramp. She barely read the blurred sign, Route 77 Show Low. “I don’t care about police-liars. If we went faster, maybe we could go back.”

  She clenched her fist. “Back where? You don’t know anything, let alone where you came from. How’d you get that bullet in your shoulder? Do you know what to kill really means?” Anger spiked and she punched his arm. Ouch. Not smart, attacking solid steel.

  He switched his hands on the wheel, flung his arm back around her, and clamped her tightly against him. Current zinged into her chest, kissed her heart, and headed straight to her brain, flipping on her libido switch. Concentration strode off, hand in hand with “oh yes, he’s hot.”

  “Jaaaylynn…” Damon sighed. “Are you listening?” He stroked, twirling two fingers in little circles along her arm. “I said, not fair that I can’t hit back. I try not to hurt you. Stop making me want to.”

  His slightest touch and she couldn’t string a thought together. She’d love to curl against him, and forget they careened along a mountain road, spinning on and off the shoulder to blast by any vehicle in their path.

  She swallowed hard. “You’re the one not listening. You demand I explain the world to you, but you won’t answer a simple question.”

  Caream tossed the blanket aside and glared at them. “All this bickering is so not fun. Jaylynn, why do you fear these police? Damon will hear them from the sky, from the land, maybe not from under the ground, but we can outrun them. Show me where Albuquerque is, and I’ll make him let me drive.”

  Damon snorted. “You can’t make me do anything. I’m already made invincible. I’ll make you into an ugly mess on the backseat.”

  Caream dropped a heavy hand on Jaylynn’s leg and leaned forward to snee
r at him. “Yes, you’re made, made sooo stupid. Who’s afraid of you? All you do is bellow, and you really love me.”

  He howled, “Love you? Everything you do drives me crazy.” They snaked along the hills, the pines a haze of green. “Jaylynn, without numerous words, answer what stupid-fun-girl, who can’t drive faster than me, asked about the police. Then explain if you’re ever going to stop yelling at me.”

  Her nails dug into her palms. “I’m afraid because police kill criminals who endanger others. If they don’t shoot me too, I’ll be locked up for the rest of my life, and you’re the fuckin’ one that’s always yelling, not me.”

  The brakes squealed. Burnt rubber stung the air, and they came to a dead halt. The engine stalled. Caream’s bruising grip saved Jaylynn from hurtling through the zillions of bug guts splattered on the windshield.

  The driver’s door swayed, hinge broken, surrounded by a swirl of fading crimson.

  Stunned, Jaylynn turned to Caream. “Where’s he going?” A gaping hole in the car floor, metal twisted around it, now existed where the brake pedal had been.

  “I don’t know. You shouldn’t say that fuck word anymore. He didn’t know women would get angry at him like men do.” Caream leapt out her door. “I’ll see if I can fix this, then we’ll find him. Stupid-breaks-everything, Damon.”

  I’m the mean man? Jaylynn scrambled out the broken driver door. She wouldn’t even think a four letter word if it upset him that much.

  Where the fu—oh, dear. Where is he? Not a blur of red anywhere. An explosion of orange detonated beside her, and Jaylynn struggled to process what just happened.

  Caream threw the car into neutral, pushed it on the shoulder, dived in the back seat, grabbed Jaylynn’s purse, and crammed the blankets in the bag. Her sunglasses back on, she reached for Jaylynn. “Three vehicles coming. Run.”

  A hard, leg-pumping sprint and they crouched beneath the trees. Jaylynn fought the ache in her side and pain in her arm. A truck and a jeep passed, and then a patrol car sped by. Braked, reversed and stopped. The officer exited his car less than a hundred feet from them.

  “Can you hear him?” Caream whispered.

  “Who? Damon?” OhGodohGodohGod. The cops had found them.

  “No, that police. He told them your license. He’s said he’ll search and wants backup.”

  The officer, his gun held low but ready, scanned the area as he closed in on them. “He’ll arrest us or shoot us.” Jaylynn gulped. “Where’s Damon?”

  “South. I can’t hear him anymore.”

  “I’ll talk to that cop. Don’t let him see you.”

  “No. You can’t go with police.” Caream’s beautiful eyes overflowed with fear. “Damon needs you. He bit his lip, before he ran off like an idiot. He does that not to cry.”

  I made him cry? A red fist grabbed hold of Jaylynn’s heart and squeezed. She was the idiot, not Damon. Since the moment a lost and confused entity encouraged her to drive into a ditch, she’d mishandled things. “I am so sorry. Caream—you have to find him and protect him. I can’t come with you. I’d slow you down.”

  “I can knock that police out, easy.”

  “Absolutely not. You might kill him. Catch up to Damon. I’ll find you again. Promise.”

  Jaylynn sprang to her feet and stumbled forward.

  “Police! Lady, hands in the air. Now!”

  Tall, young, nervous, the authority stood twenty feet away. Jaylynn raised her empty hands.

  “Face down on the ground. Keep your hands away from your sides.”

  The pine needles smelled so fresh, the earth wasn’t all that hard, and she’d be damned if she’d cry, but—it hurt. She hardly ever swore. Why hadn’t she considered how a newly born alien heard every nuance of her frustration with him?

  The man twisted her injured arm to cuff her, and she stifled her sob. Quite the day for first time events. On the run with extraterrestrials, making one angry enough to abandon her, face in the dirt, arrested.

  The cop helped her up, his voice softer. “You’re injured? What’s going on? Where’s the man we’re looking for? He ran a roadblock. Assaulted an officer.”

  She pressed her lips tightly together. A padded cell had to be better than a steel one.

  “Oh, yeah. You’ve the right to remain silent. Anything…” His grasp on her arm remained gentle.

  Thankfully, there wasn’t a fiery hallucination in sight.

  Police really did make sure your head didn’t hit when manhandling you into the back. The young man closed the door, locking Jaylynn inside. She’d never been in a cop car. Screen grid, doors without working handles—Jesus. How many times would she go flying into something?

  As they accelerated, Jaylynn caught herself from smashing into the metal mesh separating the seats and braced. The officer stood behind them, in the flying gravel, his mouth hanging open. The driver seat sparkled, lit in a short splash of orange. The cop would think either a child or a ghost had stolen his car.

  Oh God, they were in so much trouble. She settled against the door, and drew a deep breath. “Caream, slow down. I thought you went to find Damon.” The cop was far behind them, and Caream approached “why aren’t we dead yet” velocity.

  “More are coming.” Caream decelerated. “Damon would really kill me if I let the police take you. Why do you want me to slow?”

  A sharp rattle went through the vehicle. Jaylynn’s door disappeared. She didn’t have enough breath to scream as she tumbled—into the arms of electricity.

  Damon’s shoulder slammed into the ground. Bits of gravel, asphalt disintegrated, but not a whisper of a bruise impacted Jaylynn. The clash of metal hitting pavement rent the air. Sparks flew. The car door bounced and scraped, before coming to a clattering stop in the middle of the road. Caream brought the vehicle to a halt ahead of them.

  Jaylynn held tight, Damon shot to his feet and pivoted. He paused in mid-leap, and twisted to stare at the patrol car backing up. Her feet settled on the ground, and Jaylynn flinched at the male snarling in her face.

  “You…let Caaa…reeeam drive…police car?” Damon stomped. More asphalt crumbled into fragments. He jerked away from her and bent, retching bloody water.

  “Are you okay? Damon?” She stepped into his rage. His shirt was soaked. Tiny beads of scarlet droplets covered his skin, as if he’d run three hundred miles per hour. Even his sweat smelled fresher than summer strawberries, sweet and subtle as ripe roses. So did the blood puddle of spit up on the pavement.

  He straightened, wiped his mouth, and grabbed her. Shards of current shot through her and the ache in her handcuffed arms became a throb. Caream scrambled to open the door. She tossed her best smile at Damon thrusting Jaylynn beside her and said, “More are coming, very close.”

  “Think I don’t know that?” Damon’s curled lip dissolved Caream’s grin.

  “You drive. You’ll break this car even more, but doesn’t matter.” Caream’s lilt rose in panic. “You left me. How could you?”

  Damon flung himself in and smashed the door closed. He leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “I ran so I wouldn’t hit women. Drive. Don’t make me want to kill you again so soon.”

  Caream floored it. The wind poured in the large gap where the back passenger door had been, and grim reality whipped into Jaylynn. She’d go down in history as the most air-headed, incompetent traitor to humanity, ever. Damon’s shoulder had to be even more injured, and the imminent hail of bullets would soon make his pain irrelevant.

  A firm caress along one cheekbone and then the other, danced her into fantasyland again. She must have been crying. A few strokes from Damon, and her face felt warm, dry, and loved.

  “I’m sorry. Don’t lose good water.” He trailed fingers down her arm, instant therapy. “Your heart’s crying inside of you? Mad at me? Stop. I said I’m sorry. Take that metal off.”

  “Your arm’s not right. Your shoulder’s broken?” Caream asked.

  “Forget it, Caream. Jaylynn, why are your hands trapped?
”

  “The police use handcuffs when they arrest people, so they can’t fight. Why’d you leave us? Did I make you…are you listening?”

  Bewilderment flashed in those expressive devil eyes, and then Damon’s sexy grin filled his face. “If you keep the handcuffs on, you can’t hit me anymore?”

  “Hit you? That’s what you’re worried about? We stole a police car. Do you know what that means? Now, many police will come for us. You’re hurt, hurt bad. I don’t know where the hell we are, and—” a large hand clapped over her mouth.

  Damon’s jaw clenched, and that low rumble didn’t bode well. He leaned kissable close. “I’ll let you talk, but don’t scream at me for one minute. Can you do that? Try. Yell at Caream if you can’t wait that long.” Damon released her mouth. His fingers smacked his thigh as he pulled back from her. “You can’t lie to me. I won’t hurt you again, but tell me what your problem is. You’d like to fuck with me, too?”

  God, no—and—God, yes. Explanation eluded her. Only a fool with a death wish would answer a literal being with an ambiguous answer, while handcuffed in a police car traveling a zillion miles per hour. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to swear at you before. You’re right, it’s not a nice word, but you make me so upset. Why won’t you—”

  Damon tapped his finger against her lips, and Jaylynn swallowed electricity. His hand dropped, brushed her breast, and lowered. The rays of heat spread while he pushed her forward. Malleable metal responded to his touch by trying to merge into her wrist.

  “Ouch, that hurts. Damon, stop.”

  “Sorry. Not fair, yelling at me. I’m not hurting you, that metal is.” He released her, drew back and snarled. “Fuckin’ police put them on with your arm broken. The arm I broke. How do I get them off?”