by Melinda Metz
Max! Michael thought. Max! I'm here. But I'm getting blocked.
A rushing sound filled his ears, and he could feel pressure building inside his brain. Pushing from all sides. Squeezing his gray matter into a tennis-ball-size lump.
Michael's eyes began to water, feeling like they would pop any second with the pressure. The pressure…
He dug his fingers into Max's skin, refusing to break the connection. He knew the Stones could help him, but it was too soon to use them. He had to wait until he was sure he could direct the power into the consciousness.
The rushing sound grew louder. Something warm and wet trickled out of his left ear. Michael gathered all his energy and threw out one more mental shout. Maaaax!
The image of Max's face flared in Michael's mind, obliterating the darkness. He felt his brain expand, the horrible crushing pressure easing up, the roaring in his ears dimming. His whole body lightened until he was no longer sure if his feet were on the floor. Max's face disintegrated into a swirl of colors. The most beautiful colors Michael had ever seen. So rich and vivid, he could almost feel them.
He rolled onto a patch of tangerine, letting it soak into every pore, mix with his blood, seep through every cell membrane, stain his protons and electrons and neutrons. He became the color. And the color became him. And the tangerine Michael felt good.
Above him was an expanse of saffron yellow. He stretched out his arms and pulled the color toward him, opening his mouth so he could swallow it. It traveled like liquid fire down his throat and into his stomach. The heat turned Michael saffron from the inside out. And the saffron Michael felt good, too.
He spun, weightless, free, and spotted a geyser of indigo. He had to experience it. With a hoot of pleasure he propelled himself under the spray, tilting back his head, letting the color drench him, letting it-
"Michael! No.'"
Michael snapped his head up. That was Max's voice.
You've got to get out! Now! Max ordered, speaking thought to thought with Michael.
Why? Michael thought back. He stared down at his indigo hands. They were so beautiful. His body was almost coated. But he wanted more. Needed it. He dove straight into the geyser.
Noooo!
Max's wail grew fainter, then cut off abruptly.
***
"Why is Michael smiling like that?" Maria whispered in Liz's ear, her face all scrunched up. "It's kind of… creepy."
Liz tore her eyes away from Michael and shot a quick glance at Maria. A little shiver ran from her shoulders to the base of her spine. "I don't know, but you're right."
Alex moved up closer behind them. Liz could feel his breath on the top of her head. "How do we think this is going?" he asked softly.
Liz forced herself to look down at Max's face. It was lifeless, just like always. Her blood was starting to pump faster, and she was getting tense. There were too many questions here. Too many unknowns. Who knew what was going on inside Max and Michael's heads?
"I have no idea," she said. She felt so helpless just standing here. Watching. Not even knowing exactly what she was watching for.
"If Michael had started using the Stones, we'd definitely see the glow, even through his pocket," Isabel said. She shifted a little closer to Liz, and now they were all standing in a tense little clump. "It seems like it's taking too long."
"Except this has never been done before, so there's really no way to know how long is too long," Alex offered.
"It just feels too long, okay?" Isabel snapped.
"I really don't like the way Michael's smiling," Maria said. None of them looked at one another when they were talking. The Max-Michael connection was just too riveting.
Liz didn't have any comforting response to Maria's comment, so she reached out and took Maria's hand. A moment later she felt Isabel grab her other hand. Alex stretched out his arms and managed to encompass all three of them.
And they watched. And waited. Each second stretching out until it felt as long as an hour.
Liz's eyes began to burn with the strain. She'd been trying not to blink too much just in case. You're not going to miss anything in two seconds, she told herself, letting her eyes close briefly.
A gasp escaped from deep in her throat when she opened them again. Max's face was twisted in agony. Then almost instantly it lost all animation, jaw slack, eyes dull.
"Did you see-" she began.
"Yes," Isabel answered, squeezing Liz's hand so hard, an arrow of pain zinged up her arm.
"What did it look like to you?" Liz demanded, keeping her eyes locked on Max in case there was another lightning change.
"What are you talking about?" Maria jumped in.
"Max's face-for a second it looked like he was himself again. And that something hideous was happening to him," Isabel answered. There were tears in her voice.
"I missed it," Alex said. He hadn't let go of them, and he squeezed a little tighter.
"I was looking at Michael," Maria admitted sheepishly.
Liz broke free from their little knot and slowly crossed the room toward Max and Michael. She circled them, looking for anything that might tell her what had happened, but they looked just like they had before. Maria, Alex, and Isabel joined her a moment later.
"Michael's hand," Maria choked out.
Liz's throat tightened as she lowered her gaze to Max's shoulder. She was definitely going to throw up.
"Tell me I'm wrong," Maria begged, her blue eyes wide with terror.
Liz reached out and gently gave Michael's wrist a tug. It didn't move. "You're not wrong," she told Maria. She swallowed hard before saying the next, completely ridiculous, but true words. "Michael's hand… it's started growing into Max's shoulder."
Isabel bolted toward the front door. "Trevor, get up here!" Liz heard her scream. Footsteps pounded up the stairs, then Isabel and Trevor burst back into the room. Trevor skidded to a stop in front of Michael and Max.
"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Alex barked. He was paler than Liz had ever seen him, and she knew she looked the same way. It was all she could do to keep from fainting at this point.
Trevor opened his mouth, then closed it and swallowed, as if his throat was suddenly too dry to let him speak. "No," he croaked out. "But it looks like-I think Michael is being absorbed into Max. Into the consciousness."
"Can we cut him free?" Liz asked, wincing at the thought of a knife penetrating Max's skin. "Only one of Michael's fingers is completely submerged, and it isn't deep. I can see the lump." She had to take a deep breath to keep from dry heaving.
There was a soft sucking sound, and as Liz watched, Michael's hand slid into Max's shoulder all the way up to the wrist.
"It's speeding up," Trevor said, sounding desperate.
"We've got to get him out!" Maria cried. She grabbed Michael by the shoulders and gave him a frantic shake. The Michael-Max thing swayed a little, but there was no other reaction.
Isabel turned to Trevor, her eyes wild. "What if we all form a connection, then connect to them?" she demanded. "Could we pull them apart that way?"
"I don't know any more than you do," he said, pushing his hands through his hair. "It might work. Or we might be abs-"
"Let's try it," Maria interrupted. She grabbed Liz's hand, then Alex's. Liz's heart thumped with fear, but she squeezed Maria's freezing cold fingers, moved closer to Max, and took his limp hand, holding on tight enough for both of them.
A connection ignited between them as soon as the circle of hands was closed. Each of their auras was like a flame in a bonfire of color-her amber, Maria's sparkling blue, Alex's screaming orange, Isabel's deep purple, and Trevor's magenta.
Where was the jade green? Where was the brick red? Where was Max? Where was Michael?
As if in answer to her thought, a plume of liquid jade arched into the bonfire, followed by a curl of red. And the fire turned into a fountain, all their auras turning to arcs of fluid color that leaped over and under one another in a dance of joy.
Other streams of color joined the fountain-tangerine, indigo, saffron, fuchsia, lilac. The colors of the connection between Liz, Maria, Alex, Isabel, Trevor, Michael, and Max grew diluted. More new colors poured into the mix, each color losing its individuality until the fountain was mud brown.
Wrong. This is wrong, Liz thought. She shook her head and felt her curly hair fly around her face.
Curly hair? Liz didn't have curly hair. Maria was the one with the curly hair. All Liz could see was brown, brown everywhere. But she knew what was happening. They were becoming absorbed, melding together.
She tried to visualize the amber of her own aura. At first all she could come up with was the mud brown. But that wasn't right. Amber was lighter. Amber was like a perfect piece of Adam's toast. Like the scotch her papa sometimes drank. Like the honey Maria used instead of sugar. Like a lion's mane. Like the wood of her abuelita's dresser.
A spray of pure amber erupted out of the mud. Yes!
Liz felt strong now. Strong and in control. She sent out an image to Maria-the blue of a sparkling blue lake, of the spangled tutus they'd worn in their ballet recital when they were little girls, of Maria's own blue eyes. And Maria's blue aura arced up beside Liz's amber one.
Alex must have figured out what he needed to do on his own because a geyser of orange burst free. Followed by one of purple and one of magenta.
Maria flung out an image of a Valentines Day lollipop, the deep rich red of Michael's aura. Liz added the image of a stop sign. Alex threw in a mustang convertible with a red paint job so glossy, it looked edible. Isabel conjured up a hand with wicked-looking deep red nails. And Trevor added an image of Mars.
Liz scanned the expanse of mud. She didn't see anything red. But a small patch was bubbling. The bubbles grew bigger, started popping faster, then a vertical stream of red rose up.
Only one to go. Max! It's your turn, she thought. She concentrated fiercely on the image of a perfect emerald. Then she hurled it out as hard as she could.
And the connection broke.
Liz swayed on her feet as the living room of Michael's apartment reappeared around her. She twisted around so she could see Max's face, hoping, praying. But it was dull. Empty. No Max in there that she could see.
"Are you all right, Michael?" Isabel asked urgently.
Liz whirled around, her eyes going immediately to the hand that had been in Max's shoulder. It was free and appeared whole and fully functioning.
"I'm fine," Michael answered, flexing the fingers of the hand that had been absorbed. "But I guess it's time to move on to our fallback plan."
Silence fell over the group as they all looked at Max's lifeless body.
"The fallback plan we don't have," Alex reminded them all.
EIGHT
"Do I need to be Max now? Will your parents be home soon?" Trevor asked as he sat down on Isabel's soft, perfectly made bed.
"No. You have a couple of hours." Isabel picked up a glass kitten from her bedside table, then grabbed a Kleenex and started to polish the kitten furiously. "I keep thinking the consciousness is going to do something to Max. You know, to punish him for us trying to use the Stones against it."
Trevor opened his mouth to respond, but Isabel didn't give him a chance. She rushed on, scrubbing the kitten as hard as she could. "And then when we find a way to shatter the consciousness-if we do-then what will happen to him? You said you think Max could die. And that's not acceptable. That's-"
The glass kitten's tail snapped off in Isabel's fingers. She stared down at it, tears springing to her eyes. She wiped them away viciously, using both hands.
Trevor didn't bother trying to comfort her. He pretended not to even notice the tears since it was clear Isabel found them infuriating. Instead he took the kitten and the tail out of her hands, matched the pieces together, and used his power to nudge the molecules closer together, mending it. He set it back on the little table.
"I think the kitty's safer over here," he commented, forcing a smile.
Isabel gave a snort that blew a tiny, clear bubble out of one of her nostrils. He pretended not to notice that, either-although in a weird way, he found it kind of adorable.
He'd observed that when he was around Isabel, the heart of his human body beat a little faster, and sometimes a thin layer of sweat appeared between his fingers. He knew from studying the Kindred's materials that this was an expression of attraction. Humans were such a strange species. When he'd learned about the sensations, they sounded mildly repulsive, and the sweat sort of was. But the accelerated heartbeat was actually pleasurable, making his body feel warmer and somehow more alive.
He'd also observed that while Liz and Maria were as desirable in their own ways as Isabel, his human body didn't respond to them in the same way. Strange. Mysterious. He liked it.
"Thanks," Isabel muttered finally. "When I think about Max, I go a little crazy." She folded the Kleenex in half, then in half again.
A rush of guilt swept through Trevor, and he felt the back of his neck get hot. He'd been off on a little head vacation, thinking out the pleasures of attraction, while Isabel was clearly suffering.
If Isabel was a member of the Kindred, right now she'd be sternly reminded that sacrifice was an honor. If Max died in the struggle to shatter the consciousness, it would be the most noble death he could have. But Trevor had no desire to lecture her.
"I wish I could give you all the answers," he said. "But I don't have any of them."
"I know," Isabel answered. She folded the Kleenex again, then again, then again until the little square couldn't get any smaller.
Trevor took it away from her. She frowned at him, but she didn't try to snatch it back. "I think we should go out somewhere," he said, struggling to come up with some way to make her feel even the tiniest bit better. "Tomorrow Michael and Maria and I are going to start working on the backup plan while you and Alex and Liz watch Max. So tonight let's just take a break."
"Take a break while Max could be getting tortured?" Isabel spat out, her face so red, it could have been on fire.
"Or I could go out and buy you a couple dozen more boxes of Kleenex so you can fold until you exhaust yourself," Trevor offered calmly.
Isabel combed her fingers through her hair and sighed. "I guess I wouldn't mind doing something that would make me totally exhausted so I could just fall into bed and sleep and wake up when there was actually something I could do for Max."
"Any ideas of what you want to do?" Trevor asked.
She tilted her head to one side, considering. "Dancing. UFOnics," she decided.
A half an hour later they were on the crowded dance floor. Every time he started thinking about what would happen if they couldn't come up with a backup plan, he danced harder. Every time he thought how devastating it would be to Isabel and the others if anything happened to Max, he danced harder. That was the advice he'd given Isabel when they'd first walked in. Don't think, just dance.
She seemed to be following it. Isabel danced with her eyes closed-clearly expecting everyone else to make sure they didn't run into her-blond hair flying as she spun this way and that.
Trevor's heart pounded as he watched her move, beating in his ears louder than the pulsating music. He felt the addition of a new chemical in his bloodstream, something that made him feel almost euphoric. He wondered if he'd ever respond to anyone this way back at home. Not with the furiously beating heart or the same chemicals of the human body, of course, but with this level of intensity.
He had no way to tell. Males and females were kept separate in the Kindred until it was time for them to start a birthing cycle. The Kindred believed that beings were more productive this way, and now Trevor could see why. If he felt like this at home, he'd never accomplish anything. All he'd want to do was follow around whoever gave him these sensations.
The music screamed to a halt, then started up again, softer, slower. Isabel opened her eyes, her gaze going unhesitatingly to Trevor's. The skin between his fingers started p
umping out the sweat.
"You still think my human form is, uh, yummy enough that any girl would want to dance with me?" he asked her, remembering the conversation they'd had at the UFO museum party.
"Definitely," she answered. UFOnics' colored lights made it difficult to see her aura, but Trevor thought the dancing had helped a little.
"Including you?" Trevor kept his gaze locked on hers.
Isabel answered by using the waistband of his pants to pull him toward her, then slipping her arms around his neck. He slid his hands around her waist, and they swayed back and forth, barely moving, hardly dancing.
But being this close to Isabel was all the distraction he needed. Right now every thought was of her, every nerve in his being responding to her. When she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, sliding her body even closer, he could feel her heart beating, beating fast.
The realization that Isabel could be feeling the same way about him that he was feeling about her-at least right this second, in this moment away from the rest of the universe, away from time, away from thought-left him almost breathless.
***
Liz sat under an enormous weeping willow tree, its long, drooping branches creating a private room for her. A room of green. A tiny tea set was arranged in front of her, the itty-bitty roses on the cups and saucers drawn with amazing detail. She took a sip from the nearest cup and tasted a drop of honey on her tongue. There was one other cup on the other side of the little teapot. But who was it for? She was all alone here.
She peeked past the green curtain-wall. Empty desert stretched out as far as she could see. Nobody out there anywhere.
"Would you like another cup, Liz, dear?" she asked herself. "Why, yes, I would. Thank you very much," she answered, smoothing the skirt of her cupcake dress. She picked up the pot and poured. Three raisins fell through the spout.
Liz wrinkled her brow. Raisins didn't belong in a teapot. And the dress with the cupcakes on it was from when she was in kindergarten. There's no way it would fit her now, but it did. And-and wait, something else was wrong-willow trees didn't belong in the desert.
