by Elana Brooks
Present
Steve gently transitioned the two of them out of the shared memory and back to normal consciousness. He breathed hard, absorbing the full impact of the knowledge that had lain hidden in Rosalia’s mind.
“Damn,” she said. “Damn, damn, damn. That bastard.”
Steve heartily agreed. He badly wanted to hunt down Carlos Fancypants Spaniard and deliver a little long-delayed justice for the way he’d treated Rosalia. Luckily, he might get the chance to do just that in the very near future.
Rosalia screwed up her face. “The Shadow Covenant. That’s the big group you were talking about.”
“Yes.” He rubbed her hands. “You have no idea how valuable this information is. Before now, we didn’t even know what name they called themselves. After their three founders broke off from the Covenant in the eighteen-nineties, they hid themselves even more fanatically than we do. Did.”
Agitation drove him to his feet. He paced back and forth across the hotel room. “All that about their beliefs and plans is new. God, I can’t believe they’re going to try to negotiate with the Seraphim.”
“It does fit with this afternoon’s message.”
“Was that him, this afternoon? Carlos?” Steve compared what he’d glimpsed with what they’d just learned, trying to picture the suave European under the drab hoodie. The build was similar, but…
“I don’t think so.” Rosalia tilted her head to one side. “The one this afternoon was working very hard to conceal any identifying information. And he or she was certainly as strong psychically as Carlos was. But I feel like it was someone else. The way they moved and the way they used their powers were different.”
“Not surprising. If they follow Covenant custom, they’ve got at least three leaders. Or as many as eight, if they filled out their numbers after the split like we did. Carlos and our mystery figure could both be members of their Eight.”
“Or not, if they’ve got people who are even stronger.” Rosalia shivered. “My vision of the angel symbol was obviously a warning about Carlos. But it was about today, too.”
“Either they weren’t using the name Angel back then, or he just didn’t mention it.”
“I don’t think they were. Maybe that’s why the image leaked through the memory block. Carlos didn’t know it could potentially identify them, so he didn’t bury it as deep as the details that could. I don’t remember getting that sort of feeling of familiarity when I learned about the Seraphim from the Covenant. Except now that I think about it, I wasn’t as surprised as you might expect. It was as if suddenly everything made sense. As if I’d known something like that was going on all along and I finally had all the details.”
“I did know something was going on, but that didn’t stop me from fighting the truth.” Steve shook his head. “I wonder if Carlos got the symbol from your mind. Maybe that’s where their new name came from.”
“That would mean my precognition created the information, not just predicted it.”
“True. And as far as we know, that can’t happen. But if someone else designed the symbol, he might have recognized it, which might have led the Shadow Covenant to adopt it under the belief that they were destined to do so.”
She made an annoyed sound. “Too much speculation. For all we know, they could have been using it for decades.”
“Maybe they have.”
“Actually, I don’t think so.” It drove Steve crazy when Rosalia did that. Say one thing, then contradict herself in the next breath. “I get the feeling the name and symbol have been adopted recently. To give them an identity separate from the Covenant, so there won’t be any risk of people confusing the two of us. Part of their strategy to win over the public to their side.”
Despite his annoyance, Rosalia’s words rang true to Steve. “The strategy they launched today. What do you bet we’ll see more publicity stunts over the next few days?”
“Unless they decide to hold their own press conference. As long as they manage to conceal the fact that they’re cool with the Seraphim xenoforming Earth, I expect their message will appeal to many. Who wouldn’t choose peace over war, given the chance?” She scowled at Steve. “Stop pacing. It’s annoying. How badly is this going to disrupt the Covenant’s plans?”
Still too restless to sit, Steve moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He dug his fingers into her tense muscles, the warmth of her body counterbalancing his grim thoughts. “It depends on how successful they are at spreading their message. Worst case scenario, they could draw a lot of recruits away from us. They could stir up dissent in governments that otherwise would have supported us. And even worse—”
Rosalia waited, leaning into his touch. When he didn’t go on, she twisted to face him. “What?” she prompted.
Steve reluctantly voiced his fears. “If they meet with Sarthex and strike a deal, the Seraphim will have human allies on Earth. Psychic human allies. We’ve been counting on having a short time, at least, while they’re still out of range, when we wouldn’t have to worry about defending Earth from psychic sabotage. But if the Shadow Covenant is going to be actively working to help the Seraphim achieve their goals, we could be in deep, deep shit.” He could imagine any number of possibilities, none of them pleasant.
Rosalia shivered. “Assassinations, sabotage, terrorism—I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re ruthless enough for all that and more. Carlos was talking about half of humanity dying, and he was happy about it! Now that I’m familiar with the Covenant’s projections of what will happen if the Seraphim succeed, I’m even more horrified than I was then. He obviously knew exactly how high the floods would go and how much land would be lost. As long as their little enclaves of the elite survived, everything would be wonderful.” She stiffened. “Do you suppose they finished building them?”
“I’m sure they did. Carlos said they expected the Seraphim to arrive in seven years. Undoubtedly they’ve been ready for our announcement this morning for months.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, without much success. “They were working with the original calculations which estimated the colony ship would get here right about now, instead of five years from now the way my false visions promised us.”
Rosalia tilted her head back to look at him. “How do you think the Seraphim gave you those visions, anyway? It always looked to me as if you were having precognitive episodes, just like mine and my grandmother’s. Telepathy doesn’t produce that sort of trance, no matter how strong.”
He didn’t want to think about it. He’d spent the week since he’d discovered that his unique gift was nothing but a giant scam trying desperately not to think about it. “Does it matter? They were fake.”
“It might. They weren’t true foretellings, but they came in through the precognitive part of your brain, not the telepathic part. When everyone else on the planet with precognition was blocked from seeing anything to do with the Seraphim.”
“We always assumed it was because I was stronger than anyone else.” It sounded so arrogant, now that everyone knew the truth.
“But if your precognition is strong enough to get false visions through their shield, why weren’t you getting real ones as well?”
“Please, can we drop this subject? There wasn’t any new information in your memory about it. We’ve known there must be some kind of precognition shield in place all along, for the same reason they did. Because people all over the planet should have been having visions of our announcement yesterday, and the chaos today, as well as whatever’s going to happen when the Seraphim ship gets here, and they weren’t.”
“Except for you.” Rosalia flinched as his fingers dug in harder than he’d intended. “Yes, the Seraphim were feeding them to you. But I still don’t understand how they could get them through their shield.”
Despite his aversion to the subject, curiosity stirred. “They created the shield. They must have left one hole in it, straight to my brain.”
“But if they did, you should have been having—” She te
nsed. “Wait. Steve, have you ever had a precognitive vision of anything other than the Seraphim?”
“No.” Would it have made the visions easier to bear, back before the Covenant had found him, if occasionally they’d featured something besides the horrific dragons? Or would that just have confused and terrified him even more? Precognitive visions were seldom pleasant. They tended to be warnings of disaster.
Rosalia twisted around to face him. Her face was so bright with excitement his heart clenched in his chest. “That’s it. That’s why it was safe for the Seraphim to exempt you from their shield. You don’t have any precognitive talent at all!”
How could she deliver such a profound blow to his identity with such enthusiasm? She might as well have exclaimed with delight that he had no balls. “What?”
“But I do. The day before yesterday, when you contacted me during my class, just before I heard you, I had a vision. I couldn’t make any sense of it. But I think it happened right as you established telepathic contact with me. My mind was relaxed, meditating, just like when I look for visions.” She swallowed, her eyes widening. “Steve, what if your immunity to the shield was bleeding through to me? What if that vision was of something the Seraphim are going to do?”
He felt as if she’d poured a bucketful of ice into his belly. “That’s impossible.”
“Is it? I don’t see why.” She caught her breath. “I know. Let’s test it.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the other chair. “Sit down and open up your mind to me again. I’m going to try to have a vision.”
He jerked away. “Why? So they can feed you fake information, too? So the Covenant can rely on me again, and be betrayed again?”
Her brow wrinkled. “Nobody blames you. We certainly don’t think you betrayed us.”
“Maybe you don’t.” Although he doubted it. “The rest of the Eight do. I see it in their eyes, every time they look at me. I let them down. I swore up and down that my visions were true, when all the time they were as phony as a three dollar bill. It should have been obvious to me that I was being used, but I was so stupid I couldn’t see it.”
She sighed in exasperation. “How could you have known your visions were fake when you’d never had a real one to compare them to?”
“They were completely different than anyone else’s. Sharper. Literal instead of symbolic. I saw the series of decisions leading up to the event, not the event itself. Precognition doesn’t work that way.”
“But it works differently for everyone. The stronger you are, the sharper and more literal they tend to be. Your variation didn’t seem surprising for a gift as strong as we all thought yours was.”
He dropped into the chair. “Mathieu warned me. Right at the beginning. But I refused to listen to him.” He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.
“Mathieu?”
“My mentor. My predecessor in the Eight. He died before you joined the Covenant.” He spoke without looking up at her. “He’s the one who found me, who convinced me psychic powers were real and taught me to use mine. He showed me the Memories and witnessed my oath.” Steve swallowed hard. “And he told me my visions weren’t typical precognitions. But I didn’t care. Once I couldn’t believe they were only dreams any more, I had to believe they were true. Because they still terrified me, and I needed to be able to do something to help stop those nightmarish creatures from destroying us.”
Warm hands cupped his face, drawing it gently up. “Steve. It’s not your fault. Let me try this, please. The Seraphim used you. If this works, we can use them right back.”
“Use me, you mean. You want to use me to get through the shield so you can have visions.”
“Why is that a bad thing? Isn’t being used what we signed up for when we joined the Covenant? ‘The weapon in the hand of God,’ remember?”
Solomon’s words sounded fine and noble in theory. In practice, it sucked to be a weapon in someone else’s hand. But he couldn’t argue the point. “Fine. We’ll try your experiment.” He reached for her hands. Her touch was as sweet as always, but he couldn’t wait for this to be over so he could let go.
She twined her fingers in his. “Steve, if this works…”
“What?”
“If you’re immune to the shield, and we do decide to soul bond, I’ll probably become immune, too. I could end up having lots of visions of the Seraphim. True ones. Ones the Covenant needs, so we can know what they’re planning and can counter them.”
Steve stared at her. “Shit. You’re going to take over my job.”
She nodded, unhappiness in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He yanked his hands away. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You’re absolutely right. We need true visions. We desperately need to know what the Seraphim are up to. They can see our moves in advance, but we’re blind to theirs. And I’m sure you’re right. If we soul bond, you’ll have them.”
“We don’t know that for sure yet. Let me try.”
He scrambled away from her, shoving his chair back. “What good will that do? We can’t soul bond. You know we can’t. You know how it will end.”
Her eyes snapped. “How?”
“Like this! With us yelling at each other, furious with each other, hating each other.” He jumped to his feet. “The same way it always ends!”
She leapt to her feet as well, her volume matching his. “But it doesn’t end! It’s never ended. We always come back to each other. What makes you think that’s going to change?”
He stared at her, hope warring with fear in his heart. Could she be right? Could these explosive fights not spell certain doom for any bond they might form? Could he take that risk?
For himself, maybe. Not for her.
“Nothing. It’s never going to change.” He strode to the door and fumbled with the latch. “I’ve got to go report to the Eight what we learned about the Shadow Covenant.”
She clenched her fists. “Of course. Go on. They need to hear that they’ve got enemies they never knew about. And while you’re at it, tell them that you and I together could be learning even more about what our enemies are planning. Except you’re too afraid to try.”
Every instinct screamed for Steve to make some cutting retort, to win the verbal combat by getting in the last strike. Instead he used a trick he’d learned in college, during heated arguments late at night, fueled by beer and pizza. He said nothing, just looked at Rosalia. Her final words echoed uncomfortably in the silence.
She was the first to look away. He wrenched open the door and fled the room.
Chapter 10
Five years ago
Steve stared at the top sheet of the packet. Six neatly sketched drawings filled the spaces. A cat, a sailboat, a flower, a house, a sun, a dog. Numbly he picked up the flip book and compared each of the first six images to the drawings, although he knew them by heart. The pictures on the answer sheet might have been traced from the flip book, they were such precise copies. He folded the first sheet back. The next six images were just as familiar. A star, a tree, a teapot, a chair, an apple, a hamburger.
Methodically he worked all the way through the flip book and the answer packet. Every image was identical. Except the final one. Instead of the cheerfully inane smiley face on the last page of the flip book, the lower right space of the final answer sheet held a drawing of a deeply drawn bow and a nocked arrow.
Brendan was bouncing up and down on his toes. When Steve fumbled the flip book closed, he burst out, “This is it. We finally found a real one. Can you believe how perfect his copies are? It’s like he had a camera looking at the images.”
Steve looked at him sharply. “Maybe he did.”
Brendan spread his hands. “I followed exactly the same protocol as always. We can search the rooms, but I don’t think we’re going to find anything. I think he got them from my mind.” The graduate student pointed at the last image. “What do you think that one’s about?”
“I’m going to find out.” St
eve folded the answer sheet to the front. “Send him in here.”
Brendan grinned and hurried out. A moment later the door opened, and in stepped the elderly man Steve had ushered into the experiment room a half hour before. He hadn’t noticed anything about the man to set him apart from the hundreds of other subjects he’d run through this experiment. He was tall and frail, with thinning white hair and a deeply lined face. He spoke with a pronounced French Canadian accent, consistent with the Quebec address he’d given on his registration. Steve greeted him with the name neatly printed there. “Mathieu Simard.”
Mr. Simard nodded at the papers on Steve’s desk, a playful smile curving his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I see you’ve graded my exam. I assume I passed?”
Steve gripped the edge of his desk. “Cut the crap. I want to know how you cheated.”
Mr. Simard’s smile widened. “I didn’t cheat.”
Steve slammed a hand down on the answer sheet. “Bullshit. There’s no way you could have copied these images if you weren’t looking at the book somehow.”
“I was looking at the book. Or rather, your young assistant was, and I saw the images in his mind. He projects very clearly, by the way. You can tell him I said so.”
Steve rose, braced his hands on the desk, and leaned forward to glare in Mr. Simard’s face. “I’ve put one thousand, two hundred and thirty-eight self-proclaimed psychics through this same test. Every one of them has failed to produce even a single image close enough to what’s in the flip book to convince me they were doing anything more than random doodling. Why should I believe you’re any different?”
Mr. Simard raised his eyebrows. “The evidence is right in front of you.”
Steve swept a hand across the desk, sending the papers tumbling to the floor. “I know you gamed my design. The only question is, how?”
The old man showed no sign of intimidation. He beamed at Steve as if he were the professor and Steve was his prize student. “I broke through the mental block you placed around me.”
