“How long will your cure last?” Dani asked.
Reese stared at her and then looked back at Kentley. “It’s not permanent?” She’d assumed it was.
Kentley glanced at Brogan, whose heavy-lidded eye shut momentarily. “You can tell them.”
“Using the viribus inside the water at your aunt’s,” Kentley began, “I was able to create a treatment which is basically an infusion of the drug, which I think will last at least some weeks. Possibly months. And there was enough for a few more doses.”
“Only a few?” Reese asked. “You can’t synthesize it?”
“Not effectively. Not without a larger sample of the original drug, undiluted would be best. The yield would just be too low. And without a pure sample, I also can’t begin to make a permanent cure to the madness. There are too many factors.” He hesitated before adding, “The drug didn’t so much as change us as it did enhance latent abilities that ran in our families. By finding which part of the drug causes the madness, I believe I can counter that permanently. But I need more viribus to run the tests.”
“That fits with what the Controller told me.” Dani said. “They purposely sent those with any kind of ability to Colony 6. They wanted to make stronger humans who could withstand another Breakdown.” Dani paced the length of the room, her wounded hand held across her stomach. She stopped and faced them, her black face somber. “But I don’t think there’s a cure. They gave me something in a mug of brew, and it stopped my jitters completely. I felt strong and clear. In control. Like I did years ago. The Controller said it would only last a short time. I’d get more only if I agreed to help him. If I didn’t . . .” She swallowed hard. “He showed us a man whose ability made him self-destruct.”
Kentley made a sound of disgust. “There’s a cure. But we’ll never get it from the Elite.”
Dani nodded. “They’re afraid of us.” She glanced toward Tauri and away again. “They should be afraid.”
Kentley arose and motioned Dani to a table that stood in the corner of the room. “Come, let me look at your arm.”
Reese finally collapsed to a chair and gazed at their surroundings. The house was very old, with minimal furniture. Just the couch, the table, and a few chairs. Nothing on the gray walls, and only bare, uneven wood strips on the floor. The dust was so thick that it must have been months since anyone had come here.
Brogan sat down in a chair next to her. “You’ll have to return to New York,” he said. “Maybe look up a few old friends. We have to leave a clear trail of you two going home from your visit.”
Reese nodded. “But not in the KC shuttle. We need to send it somewhere fast. In fact, we shouldn’t stay here long. I don’t trust them.”
“Sorry about the KC involvement.” Brogan’s dark eyes were brooding and his strong shoulders slightly hunched. “I didn’t realize they were involved until it was too late. I would be lying if I didn’t say I was worried. The KC might be undermining the CORE, but their goals are very different from ours.”
“I’m glad you see that.”
“But don’t worry about this place,” Brogan added. “It’s too near the East Desolation Zone to be inhabited long term. That’s why it’s deserted despite how untouched the city is. It’s also hidden from most of the CORE surveillance because of the nearby mountains. It was the only place close enough to you that we were confident we could take a Newcalian hover to without being detected.”
“A hover?” Now Reese understood what Dani had already figured out in the shuttle. “I’m glad you managed that for Jaxon’s sake, but I don’t want to know what you promised the fringers to get one of their precious hovers.”
“Actually, they offered it free of charge to El Cerebro shortly after you left for New York on the sky train, and I took them up on it, just in case we needed a backup. They were worried about the information Tauri and Dani might spill once they had each other to worry about.”
Meaning it was easier to sacrifice your own life than someone you loved. Reese understood that today more than she ever had before.
“I did have to give them some insurance that I’d return it,” Brogan added, sounding troubled.
Reese stared. What could El Cerebro possibly have that they’d trust him to return a hover? There was only one thing—or one person—she knew he’d sacrifice anything for. “Nova?” she said with a little gasp.
He nodded. “It’s just a visit, and she volunteered. She needed to get away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They want their hover. She’ll be okay.” His smile looked forced. “I’m actually betting she comes back with some good intel.”
“No doubt.”
Jaxon stirred on the couch, and Reese rose to her feet quickly, casting an apologetic look at the captain, but Brogan was already moving off to join the doctor, who was using a laser on Dani’s wrist.
“Why do I feel like someone’s been banging on me?” Jaxon asked.
Reese gripped his hand. “Because maybe someone has, but you’re going to be all right. Dr. Kentley found a treatment.”
“That’s good.”
His tone told her he understood what she wasn’t saying, that a treatment wasn’t a cure. Still, it was a lot better than the nothing they’d had before.
A WEEK LATER, Jaxon took a bottle of chotks to the couch where Reese was sketching in the light that came through the glass doors leading to her balcony. Though her need to record her sketches had diminished in the short time Kentley had been working with them in the underground, they’d interviewed a number of people today as they tracked the oversized temper laser and the preacher who had brought them to Amarillo City.
Ever since Dani had asserted that HED was responsible for the weapon’s creation, Brogan wanted to determine whether the preacher and his men had stolen the weapon or if the Controller had sent them to the city on a mission.
The news feed was alive on Reese’s holo screen, still showing information about Dani’s escape from HED, which someone had finally made public, though no mention was made of Tauri or the Controller’s demise. An image of Dani in her white prison uniform, her face snarling and her white hair sticking out at every angle, had been plastered all over the Teev feed. Brogan had immediately sent Dani back to Newcali with the fringer hover, and Hammer had altered the division’s records to show a transfer. Her official image was already not the correct one, so anyone looking at the records would see a smiling woman with light brown skin and long brown hair—nothing like the madwoman fringer escapee. As Brogan’s personal assistant, she hadn’t interacted much with the rest of his employees, but they could never be too careful.
“Anything?” Jaxon asked, indicating Reese’s drawing pad.
She shook her head. “Nothing of value. Just images of family. But I’m finished now.” She put her notebook aside and accepted a glass of chotks, moving closer to him as he sat on the couch. He put his arm around her, running the tips of his fingers down her bare arm, hardly believing she was here with him like this.
Reese had ended her relationship with Alex after returning from New York, but Alex didn’t give up easily. There had been a scene with him last night in this very room, one that embarrassed all of them. He’d pleaded with Reese to give the two of them another chance, and it was obvious Reese felt terrible as she tried to explain—and she was shaking with sketches by the time it was over. In the end, the medical examiner had no choice but to walk away.
Even irritation at his former friend didn’t stem Jaxon’s pity. He remembered too well what it was like to have only half of what he wanted most. But he knew Alex would be okay. He was charming and popular with all the women at the district, and Jaxon suspected it wouldn’t be long before he found consolation.
Jaxon set down his glass and kissed Reese deeply, tasting the drink’s light fruitiness on her tongue. Her mouth was soft and warm, and she gazed at him through half-lidded eyes that invited more. He took her glass from her unresisting hand and set it on her sofa table. He co
uldn’t get enough of her, would never have enough of her.
He didn’t know what the change between them would do for their working relationship, but he was too exultant to think about it now. From the moment they’d become best friends in the Coop, he and Reese had always been heading to this spot. For tonight, nothing else mattered.
He shifted his position, still kissing her as she worked an arm out from his grasp to shut down the Teev. The Teev and its connection to the TAD that was always alert and watching. But instead of sweeping downward, her hand remained hovering in the air, her body growing stiff under him. Air pulled from his mouth as she drew in a quick breath.
Breaking away, he turned to see Controller Warrick Ramsey staring out at them from the holo screen, looking every bit as strong and healthy as he had last week in person at the memorial. Jaxon flicked his fingers to turn up the volume.
“I’m happy to announce that Special Forces has recaptured the escaped fringer, Dani Balak,” Ramsey was saying, “and also all those responsible for helping her. While I am deeply saddened over the lives of the Special Forces that were lost, and my sincerest condolences goes out to their families, I want everyone to know their sacrifice wasn’t in vain. The fringer has given us information that will save many lives. We will never allow another Breakdown to destroy our great nation.”
Jaxon couldn’t take his eyes from the man, his face larger than life as it hovered over them. He had wondered about the visions he’d seen of the Controller under the influence of the juke. He’d almost hoped they’d stemmed from his imagination. But here was Ramsey staring out at them, healthy and vibrant, his lies about Dani rolling as easily off his tongue as any truth.
“We knew he had to be alive,” Reese whispered. “I saw the sketch of him in your mind. Looks like he wants people to believe he caught Dani, for all the good it does him.”
“It destroys hope, that’s what it does.” With an impatient movement, Jaxon killed the screen. One day soon there would be a confrontation, and Jaxon would learn what the man was hiding. But not now.
Now there was only Reese. He reached for her again, and she came willingly into his arms. For a long time they forgot everything except each other.
NOTE FROM TEYLA BRANTON: Thank you for reading Visions! I hope you have enjoyed it. Please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. For your enjoyment, in the next section I have included the first chapter of First Touch, the prequel to my paranormal suspense Imprints series. You can see all my books on the About the Author page, or sign up new release notifications, free books, and subscriber exclusives here. Thanks again!
THE END
Preview
Prologue
I would remember the day forever. I knew because I’d lived through it once before. Tonight I’d have to say a final goodbye to Winter Rain, the only father I’d ever known. I wished now that I hadn’t called him by his first name, because only the word father could describe the loss I now felt.
Friends were already gathering for the all-night vigil in my living room, where we would share stories and talk about his life. There would be plenty for everyone to say. Winter had loved and helped more people in his short sixty-five years of life than many men could have in ten lifetimes. My mother, Summer, had been the same way. The only good thing about the bridge bombing that had stolen Winter’s life was that it had also returned him to her.
A home funeral was our tradition, and even though Winter had been under water for nearly a week after the bridge collapse and some of his skin had been torn away, the cold water had preserved him enough that we didn’t have to betray his wishes with embalming. Winter lay inside the simple pine box one of his friends had made, one we would use markers to decorate with messages of love. There was a peace in the stillness of his face that strangely comforted me.
My best friend Jake popped his dark head into the kitchen. “I found the markers. And I’ve made sure we have plenty of dry ice in the coolers if we need to replace the bags around him.”
“Good.” With a sigh of relief, I shut the kitchen drawer I was searching and followed him out to the living room, where people were gathered.
Tawnia, my twin sister, with whom I’d been reunited only this week, after thirty-two years of separation, looked up from her conversation and gave me a little wave. Her being here was a comfort every bit as large as the loss that carved up my insides until I didn’t know if I could ever breathe again.
Jake stopped and I nearly plowed into him. “What about the picture?” he asked, reaching out to steady me.
He meant Winter’s favorite picture of Summer. Because though we’d gathered to celebrate Winter’s life, Summer had been the only woman he’d ever loved and a huge part of his life. He’d loved her from the first day they’d met, had adored her through twenty years of marriage, had cared for her during a year of cancer, and had been faithful to her for over twenty years since her death. The picture would bring her back, just for the night, to those who had known her and would remember those stories.
“Oh, right. It’s still in his bedroom,” I told Jake. “I’ll go get it. Can you pass out the markers?”
“Sure.”
I turned and went into the bedroom Winter had used. Everything was neat and clean, except the bed where I’d been sleeping to feel close to him. Tawnia must have been at work in here. The picture was on the nightstand in the same spot it had adorned for the past two decades. As a young girl, I’d sat on his bed for hours staring at the picture.
I swept it up and stared into my mother’s face. I expected to remember the emotions of the sad eleven-year-old I’d been at her passing, emotions that were forever frozen in time. Instead I felt . . .
An ache so large the world couldn’t contain it. An ache that would have been impossible to bear but for the love that also rushed in and filled every crevice and pore, pushing out the ache so I could bask in the warm light of pure love. Loving Summer was the best, most perfect thing I had ever done, and though she was gone, she was still in my heart and would be forever.
I reached out and traced the glass covering her face . . .
I gasped. The hands I’d seen in this strange vision weren’t mine but Winter’s. And the love I felt wasn’t that of a girl for her lost mother, but the larger, more encompassing love of a husband who was completely devoted to his wife.
My fingers became suddenly boneless, and I dropped the picture. It fell . . . seemingly both too fast and in slow motion. Down, down, down to the thin throw rug covering the wood floor. The frame hit the carpet and bounced, slamming into the floor with a loud crash. The glass splintered.
I stood there staring, my chest heaving. Frightened yet exhilarated.
“Autumn? You okay?”
I turned to see Tawnia in the doorway, concern on her face.
“Yes, it slipped.”
She rushed in, passing me and picking up the picture. “Not a problem. You join your guests. I’ll throw away the rest of this glass and clean up the shards. We can still set the picture out in just the frame. I’ll get it replaced for you tomorrow.”
“But . . .” The words died on my lips as she left the room with the picture.
I’d wanted to touch it again, to feel the love Winter had for Summer. Even with the all-encompassing ache of missing her, it was the most incredible experience. Almost as though he hadn’t died, or at least a part of him hadn’t.
Or as though, for an instant, I had become him.
“Thank you,” I whispered to the empty room.
My eye caught on the small book of poetry my parents had used to recite their favorite verses while exchanging their vows. Some of the people gathering would remember the ceremony, and would like to hear the poems again. I would. As a girl, I’d had them practically memorized. I lifted the book.
And I was happy. So happy. I stared at Winter, knowing today I would pledge my life to him, knowing my future was safe, our lo
ve secure. My eyes met his as I began to recite the poem, the one that explained exactly how I felt about him.
The scene skipped backward to one that had occurred only minutes before the first.
I was the luckiest man in the world, standing with my hand linked to that of the most beautiful woman in the world. Words of a poem slipped through my lips as if I’d written the words myself just for her.
I drew in a swift breath. It was them—Winter and Summer. On the day they’d exchanged their vows. It was as if I were there, seeing an event that had taken place ten years before my adoption. I knew the story by heart, of course. Winter had recited his poem and then Summer had followed. I’d seen it in reverse order, but it was as real as if I’d been standing there.
Carefully, I set the book down and began touching more of Winter’s belongings. His favorite mug, his lamp, his shoes, the piece of pottery I’d made for him in grade school. On everything he’d loved, I felt him. Sometimes faintly, like a whisper, and sometimes it was more of a shout. I looked out from his eyes, reliving his memories. I was overwhelmed with the sense of him until I almost forgot I existed, except as he saw me—his beloved child, the daughter he loved more than life. I remembered events I’d never experienced. I understood things I could not possibly know.
Whatever was going on here, I didn’t question it. I’d felt an invisible cord tying me to Winter and Summer every day of my life—until they died. I’d felt the same tie from the moment I met Tawnia. It was family. Connection. This was like that . . . but stronger.
Tomorrow, I knew we’d drive to the outskirts of town to a plot of earth owned by one of my father’s friends, where we’d bury Winter next to Summer. And then it would be over, and life would return to the closest thing to normal I could find without him. Whatever crazy worlds had aligned to give me this intimate glimpse into Winter’s life, I was grateful.
Visions Page 30
