She didn’t drop her gaze or move. Brave woman. Braver than most he’d met, anyway. She did swallow, though, a tightness appearing around her eyes. He’d seen it before. It signified a different emotion than anger. Fear or distress of some kind. Karl felt a pang of regret in his chest—he hated to cause her distress—but he had no choice if he wanted to get through to her.
When she spoke, her tone matched his. “We experienced a moment of confusion. We’d been away from the collective too long. The Separatist’s influence on us….We didn’t know what we did.”
“So, it's my fault you saved my life?”
“Yes!” Abruptly she did turn away then, physically shutting him out of her personal space. “We do not accept that we cannot return.” Her voice dropped so low, he strained to hear it. “There must be some way.”
Karl harrumphed, prompting her to turn an angry gaze on him. After several days with her, he’d learned to interpret her tells. He saw a difference between incorrect things she truly believed—notions he would have to find a way to disabuse her of—and things she knew weren’t true, but said just to be stubborn. Like believing she could return. She knew better. Karl felt sure of it. Fear kept her from admitting it.
“Maybe before you could have returned,” Karl said firmly, “and simply endured whatever punishment the collective doled out—”
She flinched, as she always did when he mentioned collective punishments.
“—but when you saved my life in full view of dozens of collective cronies, the option evaporated. The second they have you in their sights, they’ll strike without impunity, Tenessa. You’ll simply be gone.” The flash of terror in her eyes came and went so quickly, he might have imagined it. He stepped closer and let sincerity seep into his face and voice. “No matter what you believe about me, it’s not something I’d want for you.”
Tenessa took a deep breath and he thought he saw a tremor in her shoulders. She turned away from him again, placing the flats of her hands against the wall, as though it could protect her. He’d have to remember that. His sincerity had more of a toppling effect on her than his anger or sarcasm. Than the two of them combined. Those, she could fight. The other, she didn't know what to do with.
"Besides," he said. "I prefer to be optimistic and believe that maybe, just maybe, you saved me because you're starting to like me." He grinned.
Tenessa glared at him. "Optimism is foolish. It has no basis in fact or science.”
“True.” Karl grinned. “It’s pure hope. And I have the hope that you’re starting to like me.”
Tenessa glared harder. “What logic brings the Separatist to such a conclusion?"
Karl shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? You saved my life."
Tenessa stared defiantly ahead, at his chest rather than his face. "We do not follow your logic."
Karl grinned again. "I think I'm growing on you. Having enough of an emotional effect that you didn't want me dead, even if you can't stand me sometimes."
Tenessa turned her head to one side, not looking at him. When she spoke, her voice sounded soft. He thought she was trying to sound fierce, but it came out more desperate than anything else. “The Separatist cannot make us part of his plans.” She whirled on him so abruptly, he nearly stepped back. “He cannot make us give him information or betray our ideals.”
“No, I can't. But Tenessa, what if your ideals…are wrong?”
She drew herself up arrogantly, dark hair swaying. “We will never acknowledge such a thing. And do not call us by that name!”
Karl smiled yet again, sadly this time.
"We do not wish to speak of this anymore," Tenessa muttered sullenly.
Realizing he still stood in her personal space, that he’d more or less boxed her into a corner, Karl stepped back. He turned and walked back to his previous seat, but didn’t sit. Instead, he turned to find her watching him.
“All right then,” he cracked his knuckles. “What shall we discuss today? Do you have a topic in mind?"
Tenessa had proven more willing to speak of science than of emotion. She kept talking as long as the conversation remained detached and logical. When Karl attempted to apply it to emotion or lifestyle choices, the glaring and yelling began.
Karl initiated conversations simply to get her to relax and talk to him. He hoped eventually she'd let something advantageous slip. Their visits were far from boring. Tenessa's head housed a surprising amount of expertise. Karl had already learned a good deal about the collectives' knowledge base.
Now she looked guarded. "The Separatist may choose the topic."
She'd said that every day too. He thought she had things in mind she wanted to know but didn't initiate the discussion because it would give him too much insight into her. She was probably right. Perhaps one day she'd trust him enough to ask him about what was on her mind.
For now, he inclined his head. "Okay. I don't suppose we can talk about the Council of Six today?"
Her jaw hardened again and she jutted her chin out.
He merely nodded. He hadn't truly expected her to say yes. "What do you know about particle influence, Tenessa?”
Her eyes quickened in a strange way when he said her name. He'd noticed it before, but couldn't put his finger on what it meant. A twitch of energy in her irises made them look more alive than a moment ago. Subtle, yet he'd seen it too many times to deny it.
Tenessa's features settled into an emotionless expression. She folded her arms across her belly, the defiant stance contradicting her tranquil face. Karl smiled, pretending not to notice.
“We know enough,” she said evenly. “Particle physics is taught in detail in the Union. It aids in understanding our neurochemical abilities and how to maximize them.”
Karl nodded. “Good. Then you know everything in the universe influences…everything else.”
She raised an eyebrow. “A broad generalization,” she said warily.
“My point is, when two things pass one another—planets, particles, electrons…people—they always influence each other. They can pass in close proximity, or be galaxies apart, but their effect on one another is still measurable. Even things not considered alive or intelligent have these interactions. They…bump into one another, give and take things from each other, affect one another’s polarity.” He dropped his voice. “Which I think is especially applicable here.”
Tenessa raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Polarity?” she asked.
“I mean emotional polarity,” he said, figuring she’d start shouting again.
Her eyebrows drew down in confusion.
“Never mind.” Karl waved his hand dismissively. Probably best she didn’t understand what he meant.
“What is the Separatist’s pinnacle argument?”
“My pinnacle argument is that you can't help but be influenced by me. Even if you could go back to the collective tomorrow, even if they accepted you with minimal punishment—”
She didn’t flinch so much this time as simply look away, yet the fear remained, strong enough to show up in her body language.
“—You’d still be a woman who spent a great deal of time among individuals. Who lived as one of us for a while. Who saved the life of one in particular." He motioned magnanimously to himself. “Who spoke to me for hours on end about individualism, emotion, and science.” He stood and walked slowly across the room, until he stood over her, looking down into her face. She put her gaze determinedly on the ground. “One who had seeds planted in her mind by a separatist who genuinely cares about her well-being.”
She opened her mouth, fury in her expression. Karl held up a finger to forestall her.
“Whether you admit it or not, it’s true, Tenessa. I affect you.”
She dropped her eyes, chest heaving.
“It’s not something you can escape from. The collectives will see it, if you go back to them. They’ll know it for what it is.” He lifted her chin with his index finger, feeling a slight tremor there. “You might as well stay and mak
e a life here. Going back to the collectives is certain death. Who would that serve?”
She met his eyes, then. Something about the color made the smattering of freckles across her nose stand out. They softened her otherwise sharp features. Tenessa jerked her chin away from his finger, glaring defiance at him, and he dropped his hand. At least she gave no rebuttal.
A knock came at the door, and a pang of regret struck Karl. He often felt regret when his conversations with Tenessa came to an end.
Reluctantly, he walked to the door and leaned his head and shoulders through the barrier. Lila stood in the hallway, looking worried.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nat's back."
Karl raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "And?"
"I'm not sure, but something weird is going on, Karl. The sky…the moon…it's bizarre."
"The…what? What's wrong with the moon?"
"Nat and Doc seem worried. Doc wants everyone to meet him out on the slopes. I need to find David. Can you get Maggie and Marcus?"
Feeling distinctly uneasy, Karl nodded. "Sure."
Lila hurried down the hall without another word.
Karl turned back to Tenessa. She'd craned her neck as if to see Lila in the hallway, though the invisible barrier covering the doorway would have prevented it. No doubt she'd heard their conversation clearly.
"Looks like I'm needed elsewhere, Tenessa."
"She is…the Protector's daughter."
Karl frowned. "You mean Lila? Yes. Her mother is the Protector. Why?"
She dropped her eyes and didn't answer.
Karl shrugged and turned to leave.
"She wants you to find the Executioner and the Healer. Are they missing?"
Karl guffawed. "Hardly. The two of them have been holed up together since we all got back."
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"They're mates," he said.
Understanding came into her eyes, followed by scorn. A moment later, her eyes focused on him. "Will you return?" she asked levelly.
Karl arched an eyebrow. No emotion entered the question. Simply a for-her-information inquiry. Yet, she hadn't asked him that the previous two days.
"Perhaps. It depends on what's going on with the…sky."
Tenessa's eyes shifted to Karl's face, a direct stare he couldn't quite read.
"Do you know what's happening?" he asked.
Tenessa raised her chin, her shoulders ticking backward. "How would we know what is happening outdoors? The Separatists imprison us here night and day."
Karl rolled his eyes. Tenessa had two guards assigned to follow her everywhere, but she had permission to roam around Interchron.
"You know you're welcome to go where you please. It's your choice to keep to your rooms."
She didn't answer, which surprised him. She always jumped into an argument whenever she could. Now she studied the floor, a disturbed frown on her face.
Not sure what to make of it, Karl turned to leave again. "If I can't come back today, I'll see you tomorrow Tenessa. Perhaps by then, you'll be more optimistic."
She didn't answer. He left her frowning after him.
Chapter 2: Flashbacks and Diamonds
A flash of purple light…A rock formation…Brown boots walking across a room at eye level…Two large hands covering hers…A hand with an ugly back burn on the back…A woman standing in front of a broken light house…Blood on her hands…A whisper of a voice…The one called B cornering her in a glass room…Karl washed up on some jagged rocks, bleeding from the neck…Joan holding a baby…Clay on his knees, mouth open in a silent scream…Lila curled up in a ball, crying…Doc burning parchment by candlelight…
Fingertips brushing up her spine brought Maggie abruptly out of the dream. With a soft gasp, she jolted awake, her heart pounding in her temples.
Reality set in, and she relaxed, though her heart didn’t slow down right away.
She lay in a bed in a familiar room in Interchron. Not her own, though. Marcus’s room. Marcus’s bed. He lay beside her, the two of them pressed together between tangled sheets. Curled against his bare torso, she snuggled more deeply under his arm. Everything was silent. Peaceful. Except her heart rate.
Dim, cozy light filled the room, though as with all rooms at Interchron, the light sources, located up near the ceiling, remained unseen. The temperature felt comfortably warm.
Marcus moved his hand from her lower back to rest his palm gently over her ear, fingers playing with strands of her auburn hair, and pressed his jaw against her forehead. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
She forced a smile. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“You okay?”
She nodded, shifting so her head rested beside his shoulder, rather than on it, and looked up into his face. His medium brown hair fell forward into his eyes, emphasizing the large scar on his cheek. It always reminded her of an upside-down question mark, the round part cupping his left cheek with the straight shaft reaching from below his eyelashes to just above his left eyebrow. She reached up to push his hair out of his eyes. “Just dreaming the memories again. They always freak me out.”
When she raised her arm, her bracelet slid down her arm, toward her elbow. Marcus glanced at it and his eyes softened.
“You’ve figured a few of them out, though,” he said gently, his color-flecked hazel eyes following his fingers as they traced a line down her white, slightly freckled arm. “You’ll get the rest of them eventually. Don’t let them frighten you so much.”
Maggie’s smile faded. In the two days since reuniting at the Canyon, most of their stories had been told, but not all. Once the two of them were alone they’d found…other distractions.
“There are more, Marcus. More unexplained flashes than I had the last time. They’re worse than the first set. Scarier.”
Frowning, he pulled himself into a sitting position and she followed suite, drawing the blankets up around them. “Go over them for me,” he said.
She nodded, tucking the blanket up under her armpits. “Let’s see.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “There’s the flash of purple light. No idea what that is. The brown boots walking in front of my eyes was you finding me on the ship.”
He nodded.
“Then there’s two hands covering mine. I think those must be yours.”
“Why?”
“They’re definitely a man’s hands. You’re the only one who would touch me like that.”
Marcus frowned. “Doc takes your hands a lot. He does it with everyone.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, it’s different. Doc takes my hands like this.” She showed him, placing one hand in his and putting her other hand over the top, the way a grandparent pats a child’s hand to comfort them. “In the memory, it’s more like this.” She placed both of her hands under his, lacing the fingers loosely and tried to rest her thumbs on top of his hands. It looked ridiculous because her hands were so much smaller than his and she couldn’t reach the top of his hands with her thumbs. “And then he kind of…” she rubbed the backs of his hands—the part she could reach—lightly with her thumbs.
Maggie raised her eyes to find Marcus gazing at her. It was an intimate way to hold hands, and she felt a vague sense of uneasiness from him. If it wasn’t him in the memory, it meant she’d held hands this way with…someone else.
“Have you ever held my hands this way?” she asked quickly.
After a moment, he shrugged. “Probably. No particular time stands out.”
She nodded and quickly moved on. “There’s the woman in front of the lighthouse. The Remembrancer.”
“Do you remember the first time you visited her?” Marcus asked. “When you dumped your memories?
She shook her head. “No. Somehow, this flash of her, standing in front of the lighthouse, does seem more familiar than it did before I got my memories back. I hope that means I still will. For now, I don’t remember anything after we boarded the ship. I want t
o talk to Doc about her more, though. Remember the thing she said about the roses? I'm sure there's more there he hasn't told us."
Marcus nodded thoughtfully.
“Then blood all over my hands,” she continued. “Again, no one seems to remember a time when I or anyone else got hurt badly enough for blood to cover my hands that way.”
He shook his head to show he didn’t either. "Is it covering them completely, or just spatter?"
"It's…a strange pattern," Maggie said, calling the image up in her mind. As she did, it became clearer. "There's a lot of it. It doesn't cover them completely, but it sort of slops over them, like someone's ladling it on." She held her hands in front of her, against her stomach and palms up, just like they were in the flashback. "And there's a squiggly stream across my palm, like a river cutting through a canyon." She used the fingers of her right hand to draw the blood's path across her palm, the way she saw it in the memory. "Over this hand."
She looked up to find Marcus frowning.
She shrugged, hoping to dispel his foreboding. "Like I said, no one can explain it."
He didn't answer, so she went on.
“Lastly, a voice whispering. I can’t tell what it’s saying, or whose it is.”
When she paused, Marcus frowned. “Those were all the ones you told me from before.”
She nodded. “Here are the new ones. The first is B cornering me in a glass room.”
Marcus’s eyes snapped to hers.
“What?” she asked when he didn’t speak.
After a moment, he shook his head. “Nothing. What else?”
She swallowed, and his eyes narrowed. “Karl washing up from the sea onto some jagged rocks. He’s bleeding from the neck.”
Marcus’s eyes and mouth rounded out. “What?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s what I saw.”
“That’s…never happened.”
“Lila said the same thing.”
“Maggie, are you sure these are memories? Maybe they’re dreams.”
Maggie sighed. “They feel exactly like the flashbacks. In them, I’m an observer. I'm certain they’re not dreams, but I have no way to prove it.”
Dark Matter (Interchron Book 3) Page 3
