by V. E. Lemp
“Elena?” Max paused at the edge of the room.
“Elena Charles is not here,” said a calm, monotone voice. “She is, however, safe.” The speaker lowered his light.
“Douglas.” Karen’s voice was raspy from the dust caught in her throat.
“Karen,” the avatar said, “I have come, as you have, to save Myron Tarrow’s work.” His odd dark eyes surveyed the two men. “Mark Hallam. Forgive me, I did not recognize you immediately.”
“I’m not usually covered in ash,” Mark said, stepping forward. “Can Myron’s work be saved? Or are we too late?”
“Too late for this,” Douglas said, waving his hand to indicate the bank of equipment. “It has all been destroyed, as was intended.”
“Where’s Elena?” Max demanded, staring at Douglas with suspicion.
Karen laid a hand on his arm. “It’s all right. Douglas is on our side. I know that’s difficult to comprehend right now, but trust me.”
“You look like those people.” Max’s brown eyes were bright with anger. “Those people in my dreams.”
“Yes, remember, I told you about the avatars,” Karen soothed. “I know it’s different to see one, face to face. But now we must put that aside and find Elena.”
“Unfortunately,” Douglas said, moving closer to them, “I do not know where she is at this moment. I do know she escaped before the pulse.”
“You warned her?” Mark asked.
“Yes. I would have gone with her, but she wanted me to stay and wait for you. Or find you, if necessary.” Douglas smiled faintly. “A brave human, your Elena Charles.”
So everything Myron worked for, sacrificed so much for, was gone? Karen’s knees buckled. “But all of Myron’s work…”
Mark placed his arm around her waist and lifted her to her feet, pulling her close to him. “Everything wiped out, as they planned. That was the reason for the EMP. To destroy all of Myron’s files. So I’m guessing”—Mark surveyed Douglas with interest—“this was the work of Exocorp, or those Oneiroi loyal to Vance and his compatriots.”
“Yes,” Douglas said. “We received word of their plans too late, I’m afraid.”
“But in time to meet with Elena.” Mark eyed Douglas speculatively. “She would’ve been safe, in any case. Why the warning?”
A faint smile curled Douglas’s thin lips. “Always one step ahead, Mark Hallam. Yes, I had just enough time to tell her to flee, with a backup copy of the completed video.”
Mark’s smile lit up his soot-smeared face. “Of course.” He hugged Karen a little tighter.
“Wait, there’s a copy?” Max gazed from Mark to Douglas and back again.
“A copy.” Karen giggled. Max shot her an astonished look, but she just laughed harder. “Of course there’s a copy, Myron, you crafty devil. Probably two or three…” Karen’s laughter devolved into sobs.
“Do you have anyone watching over Elena?” Mark shifted Karen, clutching her to his chest.
“Yes, Mark Hallam,” Douglas said, his calm voice cutting through Karen’s hysteria, “someone has been entrusted with ensuring the safety of Elena Charles.”
“That’s something, at least,” Mark said. “Now, I wonder—do you think you could help the three of us get out of here? Undetected by authorities, I mean.”
“I believe that can be arranged. Your car is here?”
“Yes, if it will start.”
“It will—or it can be made to do so.”
“There may be roadblocks.” Mark loosened his hold on Karen and pushed her back slightly until he was gazing down into her eyes. She gave a little hiccup and wiped away tears, observing, as she pulled her hand back, it was still streaked with damp ash. Mark kissed her on the forehead. “We need to get out of here. Max, you’d better come with us. You can stay at our place for few nights, if you need somewhere to decompress.”
Max’s eyes appeared glazed. It had hit him too. “Thank you.”
“I’ll call Sam from the road,” Mark said. “If my cell works.”
“It will not, I am afraid,” Douglas said. “But when we are safely out of this area we will stop to allow you to call Samuel Lester. You intend to ask him to locate Elena Charles?”
“That was my plan.” Mark looked Douglas up and down. “You can just jump in and out of our heads anytime you want, can’t you?”
“Not always,” Douglas said, as Max led the way back up the stairs. “Sometimes your emotions block your thoughts too thoroughly.”
Mark guided Karen up to the front hallway. “Sometimes our emotions destroy any thoughts we have.”
“That too,” Douglas agreed. “Now, let us start your car and depart, Mark Hallam. I will request that you drive. I have little experience with such machinery.”
“So much for technical superiority.” Max hung on the open car door and stared into the back seat. “We’re going to ruin your upholstery.”
“Never mind.” Mark slid into the driver’s seat. “Time for a new car anyway.”
Karen crawled in beside Max. His face was drawn and he trembled slightly. She touched the back of his hand. “How are you holding up?”
Max leaned back into the seat, shedding gray powder with every movement. “I’m confused. Exhausted. Angry. And worried about Elena.”
“We all are. But we can rest a bit when we get home. And figure out what to do next.” She leaned her head against the side window as Mark tried to start the car. The engine didn’t turn over. Before she had time to panic, Douglas laid his hands over the ignition switch for a moment and then lifted them swiftly. When Mark turned the key again, the engine roared into life.
“We’re going to need some creative solutions, Max,” she murmured as Mark pulled the car onto the road. “Perhaps you can assist us with that.”
“I’ll do whatever I can,” Max said. “But I feel a bit out of my depth.”
“Then you’re in good company.” Karen leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would find her, and release her from her thoughts on the long drive home.
TWENTY-THREE
A week later, Karen was in her kitchen sketching a still life she’d assembled from objects found around the house. Perched on a stool at the island, she rummaged through a bin of colored pencils to find the perfect blue to capture the reflection of a hand-blown bottle in the mirrored surface of a stainless-steel teapot. As she flicked her fingers through the pencils her cell phone buzzed against the soapstone counter, skidding across the island, propelled by the vibration, until Karen pressed her hand over the smooth plastic case. She lifted the phone—it was a text message.
It was from Alex. “Gathering at my apartment at two today” was all it said.
Karen stared at the phone for a moment, then called Mark. “Did you get a text?” she asked as soon as he answered.
“Hello to you too, Karen.” Mark’s voice was subdued. He was in his office, of course. “Yes, I received the message. I should be able to get away, but I’m afraid I won’t have time to come home first. Do you mind meeting me there?”
“No, but what’s this all about?” Karen rolled a crimson pencil between the fingers of her left hand. “Why’s Alex calling a meeting?”
“Uh, not a good time,” Mark said. There was obviously someone else in his office. “But we should show up, I think. It may have something to do with our friend…who’s been traveling.”
“Elena? Has Sam located her?”
“I’ve had news to that effect, yes.” There was a moment of silence before Mark continued. “How was the appointment?”
“Fine.” Karen chewed on her lip. “I’ll fill you in later.”
She heard someone’s voice raised in a question before Mark spoke again. “Listen, must run.”
“All right, see you soon.” Karen ended the call but clutched the phone to her chest for a moment before rising to her feet and gathering up her art supplies. The appointment had not been fine. The treatment regimen the doctor had outlined was daunting. She was to report for
her first chemo treatment within a week. She sighed and contemplated her still-life arrangement, deciding she’d leave it in place. At this point, art was the only thing that could take her mind off the anticipation of nausea, joint aches, and losing her hair. Not to mention the specter of mortality.
When Kate jumped up onto the counter Karen didn’t bother to remove her. “You’re going to help me get well, aren’t you, girl?” Kate flopped over and purred loudly. “I need all the help I can get.” Karen absently stroked the cat’s rabbit-soft fur for several minutes before rising to get ready for the meeting.
The apartment building was an older, nondescript brick structure. As Karen parked her car in one of the visitor spaces, she noted the window air conditioning units as well as the flaking paint that marred the building’s white trim. She glanced at the lettering above the battered front doors and located the entrance that included Alex’s apartment number.
The hallway was dark and smelled of grease mingled with antiseptic air freshener. Karen wrinkled her nose and made her way to the stairs leading to the upper floors. She leaned heavily on the wooden railing, its surface worn smooth by many hands, as she climbed the second flight of stairs.
Karen reached Alex’s door on the third floor and hesitated, wondering if she should wait in the hall for Mark. But her legs were trembling from the climb, and she longed to sink into a comfortable chair. So she knocked.
Alex opened the door immediately. He surveyed her with concern. “You look exhausted. Come and sit down before you collapse.” He took her by the elbow and guided her to the sofa before swiftly crossing the room to close and lock the door.
Although the furniture in the apartment was dated and worn, everything was meticulously clean, and the air smelled of lemon and fresh bread.
Karen raised her eyebrows as Alex approached the sofa. “Have you been baking?”
“You know better than that. I just bought some things at the bakery. Now, what can I get you to drink? I don’t suppose you’re allowed any wine, but I’ve got some fresh juice as well as water.”
“Water is fine,” Karen said, as he strode into the kitchen. He was wearing a sky-blue t-shirt over faded blue jeans. The perfect color to complement his eyes. Karen wondered how deliberate that choice had been. “So where is everyone? You said two o’clock, and I thought I was running a bit late.”
Alex walked back into the living room carrying two glasses of water. He set one on the end table next to Karen, sat on the couch, and took a long drink from his glass before carefully placing it on the plastic wood-grain surface of the coffee table. “I told everyone else three o’clock.”
Karen met his unapologetic gaze. “Why?”
“I wanted to talk to you alone.” He leaned back and draped his arm over the top of the brown chenille cushions.
Karen straightened and slid forward until she was perched on the edge of the sofa. “About what?”
“Your refusal to consider Alice’s offer, of course.” Alex’s eyes were even more brilliantly blue than usual.
It was the shirt. He’d obviously worn it for just that reason. “We’ve talked this subject to death. I’m not changing my mind, whatever you say.”
Alex leaned in and took hold of her elbow with his free hand, pulling her back onto the sofa. “I don’t understand your thinking on this. Why won’t you do whatever you can to survive?”
“Because, as I’ve told you on more than one occasion, I’m not sure I want to live if I’m required to spend the rest of my days alone, wandering aimlessly about some alien spaceship. Surely you can comprehend this.” Karen lifted her chin and stared into Alex’s perfectly sculpted face. “You couldn’t do it, could you?”
“Touché, my sweet.” Alex placed one hand against her cheek. “But as I’ve also told you—vehemently and often—I’ve no intention of allowing you to die if I can do anything to prevent it.”
Karen pulled away from his touch and grabbed her glass from the end table. “It’s not your choice to make. I’m not your property, whatever you may think.” She took a gulp of water, holding the glass in front of her like a shield.
“Don’t be deliberately difficult.” Alex grabbed the glass from her hand and banged it down on the coffee table. “No one said anything about property.”
Karen flashed him a sharp look. “Me? I’m not the one trying to control everything. You can’t always get your way, you know.”
“I certainly do know that.” Alex stood and stalked through the archway that led to the kitchen. “Excuse me, I think I need some wine.”
Karen sighed and slumped back into the sofa cushions. As she adjusted her position on the lumpy seat her hand brushed over something hard. It was a metal ring caught up in the loose threads of the upholstery. She gently disentangled the object and held it up for examination.
“Alex, I think one of your friends might have left something behind.” She dangled a hoop earring between her thumb and forefinger as Alex walked back into the room clutching a large glass of wine. “Perhaps you should return it to her?”
Alex sat down, cradling his glass. “I would, but you see”’—he took a drink—“that would require remembering her last name.” He glanced at Karen and took another swallow.
His expression dared her to make any reply. “If you’re trying to shock me, it’s falling flat. Anyway, here it is.” Karen dropped the earring on the end table. “Add it to your collection.”
Alex swore and set down his wine glass. “Now, you listen to me.” He grabbed her by her upper arms and forced her to face him. “I know what you’re up to. Derailing the conversation so we can’t discuss your health.”
Karen met his furious gaze without flinching. “Let me go.”
“You need some sense knocked into you,” he said, giving her a little shake. “If Mark won’t do it—”
“No, Mark doesn’t manhandle me.” Karen shrugged to loosen his hold. “You could take a lesson from him on that point. And by the way,” she added, with a quick glance at the clock on the opposite wall, “he should be here any minute.”
“Why are you doing this?” Alex leaned forward and pressed his head against her shoulder. “Do you enjoy torturing me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you,” Karen said softly. She pulled her hands free of his loosened grip. “I’m doing what is right for me. That’s all.” She tentatively placed one hand on his back. “Now don’t fall apart on me. We have important business to take care of, especially if Sam’s found Elena.”
“He has,” Alex said, without lifting his head.
“Well then, we need to find a way to release Myron’s video. Especially after what happened in New York. Hundreds were killed on those planes. And with Myron still in the hospital, better, but not yet well …”
“Yes, yes, we’ll release the video. Today, if I’ve anything to do with it.” Alex sat back. “But as for your situation—I’m not done talking yet.” He traced the line of her jaw with one finger. “I don’t intend to live in a world without you, Karen. You may never come back to me—in fact, I suspect you won’t—but I must know I can see you from time to time.” He tapped her lips gently with his finger. “I came back for you. Don’t deny me that meager pleasure, at least.”
“You may have come back for me, but your return has a bigger purpose.” Karen caught his fingers as they fell away from her face. “You could help save two worlds. Isn’t that worth more than anything else?”
“Not necessarily,” Alex said, lifting their clasped hands to his lips. As he kissed her fingers there was a knock at the door. “Ah, more guests. We’ll have to continue this conversation later.”
“No, we won’t.”
“Hello, Mark,” Alex said as he opened the door.
“Claire and the girls are right behind me.” Mark stepped into the room, caught sight of Karen, and frowned. “Here already? I thought I was early.”
“Karen misread the time,” Alex replied smoothly. He turned to welcome Claire, Amy, and Ariel.
“What are they doing here?” Karen asked Mark under her breath.
Mark sat on the sofa next to her. “Apparently Ariel’s been studying with Alex recently. Psychic stuff, I suppose. Not something I was pleased to discover, as you can imagine.”
“He told me two,” Karen said, as Mark’s gaze landed on Alex’s wine glass.
Mark’s dark eyes surveyed Karen’s face. “Do I need to intervene?”
“No, I handled it.” Karen laid her fingers across his arm as she said hello to Claire and the two girls. “So,” she said, turning to Ariel, “what’s this I hear about you working with Alex?”
The girl tossed her head, swinging her heavy plait behind her back. “He’s helping me strengthen some skills.” She pulled a rocker from the opposite wall and placed it so she could sit near Karen. “How are you?”
Karen shot Ariel a warning glance and nodded toward Claire and Amy, who had settled into two armchairs facing the sofa. “I’m fine.”
“Now, what can I get everyone?” Alex asked, heading across the room. He paused in the archway to take their requests before disappearing into the kitchen.
Mark leaned forward, staring at his sister. “Why didn’t you mention these training sessions with Alex?”
Claire blushed and ducked her head. “I didn’t think anyone would mind. Alex is part of our group, and Sam didn’t see a problem with it…”
“Sam? How interesting.” Mark pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger. “So Sam hears about this, but I don’t? Guess that shows where I fall in the hierarchy.”
Karen tightened her grip on Mark’s arm. “I’m sure there’s no harm in it. Anyway, it’s really Ariel’s choice.”
“But we’re still responsible for her.” Mark sat back. “Never mind, I suppose it’s a minor issue, considering everything.”
“Besides, Uncle Mark,” Amy said, her hazel eyes shining, “anything Ariel can learn that’ll help us destroy Exocorp is okay by me. I’d love to see Ian Vance knocked off his feet, groveling in front of Ariel. Or anyone,” she added, color rising in her face.
