Burning Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  They walked toward Pope, who held out his arms. “Put your hands on me. You’ll feel a whoosh through your body, and everything will go dark for a second.”

  The moment they touched him, that’s exactly what happened.

  Chapter 25

  Eric could see it was exactly as Pope had described. Luckily, he grabbed Fonda’s hand just before they went into the darkness and could still feel her. Thank God he could leave her with Magnus for safekeeping. They appeared in the inner courtyard of the compound, where a fountain in a black pond bubbled. The koi in the pond ducked with several splashes. He felt his body, solid, and he sought out Fonda. She smiled, relief on her face.

  Pope looked around.

  Eric, his grip still on Fonda, ran toward the front part of the house where a light was on. He banged on the door, and Magnus and Lachlan appeared.

  Magnus opened the door, surprise on his expression. “What the hell—”

  “I need the antidotes. Hurry, we don’t have time to explain.”

  Magnus ran past him to the lab, though he was looking back at Pope.

  Lachlan nodded toward Pope. “Who is that? Don’t tell me I have another surprise sibling.”

  “He’s someone who’s helping us,” Eric said. Magnus returned, and Eric grabbed the box from his hand. “Thanks. I’ll explain everything later, including what you’re about to see. I’m leaving Fonda here. Keep her safe.”

  He ran back to Pope, Fonda right behind him. “You’re not leaving me.”

  “Yes, I am. You don’t need to risk your life for people you don’t even know.” He kissed her and looked at Pope. “Let’s roll.”

  Just before the whoosh and darkness, he saw Fonda grab onto Pope’s arm. Dammit, he was going to kill her.

  They materialized behind Lucas’s gallery. He recognized the man standing on the porch from his appearances on television: Malcolm Bishop. He eyed the three of them, his brown eyes narrowing on Pope. Eric took advantage of his focus and set the box of syringes out of sight.

  “Pope,” Malcolm said. “I knew you had to be involved in this. But surely you did not kill my brother. That would be against the rules, and you’ve always adhered to the rules.” His smile had a taunt in it, as did his voice. The two men had a history together, obviously.

  Eric said, “I killed him.” He didn’t want the man to shift his focus to Fonda.

  “And so shall you die as well.” He turned to Pope again. “You destroyed his Essence, didn’t you?”

  “It couldn’t be discovered. You know the rules. And I always follow them, as you pointed out.”

  “No, you don’t. You brought them here. You are not our Liaison. You cannot interfere in any way. You’ve overstepped your bounds.”

  “As have you. I don’t believe infecting people was part of your mission here.”

  What mission? What laws? No time to ask.

  “You’ve tried to start trouble for us before,” Malcolm said, “but no one believed you. And they won’t now, if you were to try again. Besides, I have diplomatic immunity. I’ve accomplished too much during my stay here, and you, Pope, have accomplished so little. You haven’t even been able to find out what happened to Simeon.”

  “I know you killed him. You stole his Essence, didn’t you? He was on to you, and you put him in the receptacle.”

  “He was a pest, as you are.” Malcolm heaved a sigh. “I can see this is going to get messier than I thought.” He waved his hand, and a shimmering veil surrounded them. “A little privacy.”

  The illusion Pope had mentioned.

  Malcolm turned to Eric. “Now, on to you. No, you can’t use your powers on me. I can feel the heat right about . . . here.” He gestured to about a foot away from him.

  Eric lunged for him. A flash of white-pink light seared him and sent him to the ground. His vision blurred for a second, but he could see Malcolm wringing out his hand. “I’m a bit rusty at that,” Malcolm said. “Don’t get to use the bolt much. Too flashy.” He shot a look at Pope. “Too bad you can’t use your deadly powers. They’ll know, and you’ll have to explain yourself. You know what they’ll do, and you don’t want them to know about these people.” He flashed the bolt at Eric again.

  Eric rolled to the side, ready for it this time. Malcolm shot out his hand and aimed at Fonda. The bolt went right through her, leaving a gaping hole in her stomach. Eric heaved, like that hole was in him. She looked down at herself, her face ashen, and crumpled to the ground.

  “No!” Eric screamed.

  It’s not real, Pope said. Remember, illusion. This time Pope’s voice in his head was distinct.

  His gaze was on Fonda. It looked real. So real. Agony froze her face. She reached for him, her hand trembling. “Eric . . . help me.”

  He wants you distracted. Weakened. Focus on Malcolm.

  She was screaming in pain, calling his name over and over. His body strained to run to her. He had to trust Pope. Even if Pope hadn’t warned him about the bolts. He went for Malcolm again, body slammed him to the ground. He rammed his knee into Malcolm’s stomach, shoving the breath out of him. He had to put this guy down. No more.

  Malcolm reached out and grabbed his arm. The electric shock sent him flying backward, rocketing through his veins and organs. He jerked and twitched. Whatever the hell Malcolm was doing, he was getting stronger.

  Fonda rushed him. Fonda—without a hole in her stomach. If electrical aftershocks weren’t firing inside his guts, he’d have been overwhelmed with relief. She launched herself at Malcolm and he flung her away. She screamed as the jolt went through her. He aimed his hand at her, everything went dark for a second, and then she was several feet away. The bolt struck the empty ground.

  She’d frozen time.

  “You won’t do that again,” Malcolm said. “You won’t be alive to do that again.” White-pink sparks flew from his fingertips, vibrated along the outer edges of his hands. He was definitely getting stronger.

  Fonda was looking at Eric, her eyes wide. “You’re alive. I thought he’d killed you. I saw you dead.”

  “Fonda, get out of here!”

  He didn’t know why he even bothered, except out of instinct. She never listened.

  She rolled out of the way of another bolt that seared the grass and left a black crater in the ground. The blades of grass sizzled, the pungent smell stinging his nostrils. He saw the fatigue on her face, along with the tracks of tears she’d cried thinking he was dead. Her movements were getting slower. Malcolm was playing with her, wearing her out. Eric leapt to his feet and went for him again.

  Before he could reach him, however, a white hot glow surrounded Malcolm, washing him out. It wasn’t anything Malcolm was doing, not by the shocked look on his face. He screamed as the light flashed brighter and then exploded in a shower of sparks. The heat blew Eric back. He landed hard on the ground. On the porch where Malcolm had been standing, he saw a charred section of wood.

  Eric turned to see Pope standing with his arm out, a resolved, grim look on his face. “You weren’t going to win.”

  He had broken some rule. A big one.

  Eric ran over to Fonda, who was struggling to get to her feet. He helped her up, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and sagged against him.

  “Stay here and rest,” he said. “I’m going down.”

  The canister lying on the porch not far from the charred spot caught his eye. The lid was off. He ran over to the ventilation pipe. The screen had been removed. Dread hit him like a wave. The canister was empty.

  “He’s already fumigated them!”

  Pope was standing next to them, his expression even more grim.

  Eric grabbed the box of syringes. “I’m going to stop them from killing each other.” He looked at Pope. “Take me down.”

  Fonda put her hand on Pope’s arm. “I’ll freeze time so you can administer the antidotes.”

  “You don’t have the strength to do that,” Eric said. “You’re about to drop as it is.”

 
“I’m not letting your people die.”

  He felt the whoosh, and they materialized in the living area of the shelter. If he could have imagined a nightmare, this was it. Nicholas had a gun aimed at Lucas, who looked shocked and sane.

  “Nicholas, you don’t even like to shoot the bad guys. What the hell is wrong with you? Put the damned gun down!”

  Eric heard a struggle in the back bedroom. Rand pulled the trigger of his gun and nearly shot Zoe, who dropped to the floor and aimed her gun at him. Rand’s crazed eyes shifted to Fonda, Eric, and Pope, and he swung the barrel toward them and pulled the trigger again.

  The moment froze, the bullet suspended only inches in front of Eric’s face. Fonda was still holding onto both Pope and Eric. “We don’t have much time,” she said, grabbing several syringes out of the box. “I’ll go down the hall. You take care of these guys.”

  Pope took one out and turned to Rand, the immediate threat. Eric injected Zoe and then ran to Nicholas. He didn’t need to inject Lucas, so he ran down the hall.

  Fonda called out, “Watch the bullet. Time will resume any second.”

  Eric went into Lucas’s room, where Amy, Petra, and Olivia were in the middle of a physical fight. Fonda’s face looked strained as she tried to inject Amy. “I’m trying to hold on, but I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

  He took two syringes from her. “I’ll take care of them.”

  Amy came to life just as he slid the needle into her arm. She screamed and slugged him. She had the same crazy look as he’d seen on Sayre.

  “Get that away from me!” Petra screamed, fighting off Fonda, who was holding the syringe.

  Eric threw her to the bed and leaned down low over her. “It’s your little brother, Eric. Listen to me. I’m going to give you a shot, and you’ll feel better. Understand?”

  She blinked. Fonda moved up beside him while he had Petra pinned and injected her.

  “Nice move,” he said.

  Olivia ran screaming from the room. Eric and Fonda went after her, only to find Lucas holding a gun to Pope. Nicholas and Rand looked dazed. Nicholas held up one of the empty syringes. “What the hell did you inject into us?”

  Eric held Lucas’s tense gaze. “Don’t shoot him.”

  Lucas’s eyes narrowed. “You brought him here. Are you nuts?”

  Eric laughed at the irony, which was lost on Lucas, of course. He held up a hand as a signal to wait and joined Fonda, who had pinned down Olivia on the couch.

  She was trying the same tactic he’d used on Petra. “Olivia, do remember me?” Fonda said. “You helped me once, after the fire. Now let me help you.”

  Her eyes were moving back and forth. “No!”

  Fonda injected her. Eric turned around and found Nicholas and Rand pointing their guns at him now, though their eyes were clear. Lucas still had his gun on Pope, who looked oddly unperturbed. Petra and Amy had come out of the hallway, rubbing the spots where they’d been injected, looking lost and confused.

  Eric took them all in. “You’re okay now. Everything’s okay.”

  Lucas tightened his finger on the gun aimed at Pope. “Everything’s ‘okay’? You brought the enemy here. You, the one who was the most paranoid about that. I saw you just . . . materialize right there with him.”

  Petra gave him a betrayed look. “Eric, how could you? They’ve turned you. First you join up with her, and now him?”

  “This guy just saved all of your asses. And our asses while we were trying to save your asses. Remember, I’m the one who shoots first and asks questions later.”

  The three men lowered their guns, but their suspicion didn’t lessen.

  “ ’Splain, Lucy,” Petra said, using a phrase he’d used on her before.

  “Yeah, ’splain.” Lucas leaned against the wall as though all the energy had drained out of him. “Because one minute we’re down here, trapped with the doors jammed but otherwise normal, and the next, everybody starts freaking out and trying to kill each other.”

  Petra said, “I felt this horrible anger, like a bolt inside me, and all I wanted was to kill someone—anyone. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  “Sit down.” Eric gestured to the long dining table, tugging Fonda down into the chair beside him. “We’ve got a lot to fill you in on. First, everyone, this is Fonda. Nicholas, Olivia, you already know her, but you don’t know her at all. Just like you, she had no idea she was working for the wrong side. So whatever feelings you might have about her being the enemy, drop them now.”

  Eric told them what had happened that day, but he still had a lot of questions of his own. “Neil said he couldn’t manufacture emotions, so he got off on ours. He said he needed to experience emotions through us humans. Which means he isn’t human, and also means part of us isn’t human. We already figured out that part is alien.”

  Pope actually smiled at that. “No, not alien. This dimension hasn’t quite nailed it down yet, though some of your top quantum physics scientists are getting closer. There are many dimensions besides the one you live in. We—meaning Neil, Malcolm, and I—come from one of those dimensions. It’s a world not completely different from this one in some ways. In other ways, it’s very different.”

  All the Rogues sat in silence and listened to the truth they had been wanting to know for so long. Eric squeezed Fonda’s hand and pressed it against his mouth. Petra, across the table, watched with widened eyes but quickly shifted her attention back to Pope.

  Nicholas said, “Parallel dimensions. So this world exists right alongside ours without us even knowing about it?”

  “Precisely. Ours and many others. In our dimension, a different organism became the dominant species and humans became extinct.”

  “Neil said they self-destructed,” Eric recalled.

  “In a matter of speaking. A bacterium, what you call a biological weapon, was developed by one country to kill off its enemies. It only affected the brains of humans, not animals or plants. That was why they embraced this particular weapon. It didn’t condemn the natural world, the innocent creatures, like a nuclear weapon does. It was unleashed on the intended enemy, and the destruction was complete.

  “But no one could have predicted how virulent the bacterium was. Or how well it would travel on air and ocean currents. It contaminated the water supplies, drifted into the air of one country after another. It took twenty years, but it eventually killed every human being.” He smiled. “But we were underground, and we were not human.”

  “What are you?” Fonda asked.

  “We are called ‘Callorian.’ From the beginning of our race, we lived underground but monitored what was happening on the surface, what we called Surfacia. When the last of the planet’s humans died, we came up to see what was left. And we liked being on the surface, feeling the sun, the colors, the variety of animals and plants and bugs . . . everything the humans had taken for granted.

  “So we took over all those abandoned places and built a new world. But a carefully constructed one. Each country is managed by what you would call a president or king; we simply call them leaders. Each leader is answerable to the Collaborate in all things, like your United Nations, but with power.

  “Having watched humans succumb to their emotions, they were forbidden in our society and eventually grew dormant. There is no anger or fear or egos. We have no wars or feuds. We don’t age as quickly as humans because of this. We use our sixth senses as a regular part of our lives, unlike here where it is considered an anomaly or something to be feared. We protect our planet. Aggressive, manic, or overly sexual behavior is extinguished. And if one breaks the law, he or she is executed by the Collaborate.”

  “How do they know if the person is guilty?”

  “They are mind-scanned, which is usually fatal in itself. Very few people break the laws.”

  “And you might have to answer to these people?” Fonda asked, her attention fully on him. “Because you saved us?”

  He nodded, a slow, grim nod. “There was no o
ther way. You fought well, but Malcolm would have killed you and Eric. And the others”—he looked around to include them all—“would have died, too.”

  “You might be executed?” Eric said. “Or mind-scanned?”

  “I will face the consequences, whatever they might be.”

  Eric said, “You told me that we matter to you. Obviously we do. Why?”

  Pope’s mouth quirked in that odd way again, though no emotion hit his eyes. Of course, he had no emotions. “In a way, I’m your brother.”

  He gave them a moment to digest that, and Eric swore he was enjoying it in his deadpan way. “Because the ozone layer has been compromised by the humans, cracks have been forming in the wall between our dimensions. Sometimes a Callorian accidentally slips through. The meteorite Wallace thought he saw was actually one of our aircraft, and it crashed. The pilot died on impact, the aircraft shattering.

  “My brother, Allistair, was assigned to collect the pilot’s Essence and the pieces of the aircraft. He missed one small piece of Essence . . . the piece Wallace found. When he ingested it, it became part of him, then part of the subjects in the first program, and now part of you. That pilot was our father.

  “As a Liaison, my role is to interface with and monitor those from Surfacia who study your world by taking a human guise and living here. While on a mission here, I sensed my father’s Essence, which was very odd since he was deceased. I tracked it to Wallace. That’s how I learned about the first program. I couldn’t tell the Collaborate because that would mean my brother failed in his duty to retrieve all of our father’s Essence, which would incur a stiff penalty and loss of honor.”

  Eric saw the faintest flicker of emotion when Pope talked about his brother. Maybe emotions hadn’t been completely bred out of them. “Would they kill him?”