by Jody Wallace
No doubt the researchers would be excited to get their hands on the bodies Maggie had unwittingly provided. She was too tired to bring up the Antipodes scroll in a natural-seeming way.
Zeke gave a single, short nod. “Do you think there’s a connection between the carcasses and that shit in the morgue?”
Adi cocked her head to one side. “I hadn’t considered that, but I’ll relay your suggestion to my staff. For now, all information must remain classified. Please don’t discuss it with anyone outside this facility, including superiors.”
“You realize it’s not a coincidence these things happened after you woke Karen Kingsbury,” Zeke pointed out.
Maggie hadn’t told them yet that she’d witnessed the three of them in the dreamsphere. Not only had she heard Adi, but she’d been standing outside Zeke’s shield, watching him and Karen. Was that something she should share on camera?
Should she tell them that she knew Karen had tried to convince them Maggie was the weak link? The problem was, Maggie felt weak.
“Perhaps.” Adi looked at Maggie, her gaze dark and unreadable. “And perhaps Karen isn’t the connecting factor.”
“If you’re saying it’s Maggie—”
Adi held up a hand. “I’m not conclusively saying anything at this time. Nor will I. Right now we need to sift through the events of the past several hours in order to make sense of it. Conclusions may not occur quickly. In the meantime, I’ll require you and Maggie to remain here. And I’ll require you to take on a new disciple.”
“A student? Now?” Zeke goggled at Adi as if she’d just asked him to—well, to take on the responsibility of another neonati in a war zone. “Maggie’s phase one, Adi. I could possibly move her to phase two next week, but with everything going on, another pain in my…another disciple is the last thing I need.”
“I misspoke. Not a new student. I need you to finish training Karen Kingsbury.”
“I’m not going into the sphere with Karen by myself. Ever. She can vigil-trap, in case you forgot.”
“You will never be alone. There will always be others present to network with you and prevent that circumstance. And Karen’s matriculation shouldn’t take long. I managed a surface linkage with her in the dreamsphere. For a full assessment of the situation—and of Karen—I need her to be graduated to a full alucinator.”
“Get a curator,” Maggie and Zeke said at the same time.
“That wouldn’t be wise, considering the other issues we discussed and our need for confidentiality.” Adi’s expression didn’t twist or otherwise reveal their secret plotting, but Adi was generally cool as a cucumber. “Information has been promised to me, Zeke, and I’ll have it. Sooner rather than later, as our target may be inclined to drag things out.”
“She told us we should kill her,” Zeke said in a grim voice. “That isn’t a problem for me.”
Now that Maggie had observed Karen in the dreamsphere, she didn’t feel as horrified by Zeke’s darkness as she had before. Whether or not Maggie had been too weak to keep the wraiths from using her conduit, Karen had known Maggie was there.
She’d known, and she’d lied about it. She’d told Zeke that Maggie was lost and he should pray that she was dead. Considering Karen had the skill to vigil-trap others, threats from Karen shouldn’t be taken lightly.
“Absolutely not,” Adi said. “We do not commit outright murder.”
“Because you want your answers,” Zeke said. “No matter the cost.”
“Because we need those answers and because the Somnium has never supported murder,” Adi corrected. “We have to investigate Karen’s abilities and the recent deaths of the coma patients. To analyze and fully assess Karen, I must have full linkage. Thus, matriculation.”
“Linking with that psycho will put you at her mercy,” Zeke said. “Are you going to be alone in the sphere with her?”
“Precautions will be taken.” A soldier knocked. Adi opened the door and accepted two clipboards with pens. She handed these to Maggie and Zeke. The man, Blake, remained.
Zeke held his at arm’s length as if it might bite. “More contracts?”
Adi gave them a tired smile. “I thought you might want to make lists of the items you’ll require for an extended stay. I know I’m more comfortable with my own possessions.”
Zeke sat at the table on the other side of Maggie. The clipboard hit the metal surface with a rattle, and he clicked the pen several times. As his gray eyes skimmed the checklist, his expression tightened. The fact he wasn’t arguing anymore let Maggie know not to argue anymore either—or ask more questions.
“Ms. Sharma,” Blake said, “we’ve finished our accounting of facility damage if you’d like the report.”
“Yes, please.”
While Maggie tried to concentrate on how many pairs of socks she’d need for an indefinite stay here, Blake ran down a list of injuries, deaths, property damage, and manifestation totals. He ended with the names of alucinators whose bodies had been consumed.
“Joan Wilkins, Bertello Santini, and Landon Whitefeather are missing,” he stated gravely. “As are Sarah Bench and Richard Lamas.”
“Sarah Bench was a patient,” Adi said. “She wasn’t in the morgue.”
“She was killed during the attack and her body was swarmed. We were too slow to prevent it.”
“I see.” Adi pinched the bridge of her nose. “Sarah had only been here a few weeks. She wasn’t one of our declines. I had hopes we could revive her. And wasn’t Richard—am I correct that he died a few hours before the manifestation?”
“His body hadn’t been placed in the morgue yet,” Blake said. “We’re operating under the assumption it was consumed. We did find the sheet used to cover him.”
Maggie remembered the tiny drama when she and Zeke had first arrived—the body being wheeled out of the high security area. She set down her pen. “How normal is it for a whole body to get eaten?”
Adi and Blake looked at her like she ought to know the answer. Zeke scribbled things on his clipboard.
“I’m not aware of any other instances wherein wraiths attacked a corpse they did not cause to die,” Adi said.
“But consuming an entire body,” Maggie persisted. Adi and Blake didn’t seem as gobsmacked as she’d have expected. Was or wasn’t this unprecedented? “Does that happen?”
“Yes,” Adi admitted.
“I never heard of it,” Zeke said. So he was listening. “Maybe if a field team doesn’t get to a neo in time, but—”
“We’ve recorded a few instances in the past year,” Adi said.
Zeke scooted his chair, the legs scraping on the concrete floor. “Not in my area, you didn’t.”
“Internationally. And interfacility.”
Zeke’s inventory clattered to the table. “Look, Adi. You want me to help, but you’re not giving me the whole story. You’re handicapping me.”
“We have no proof the disappearances are connected to the reason you’re here.” Adi nodded to Blake in dismissal. “Your task was simply to confirm Karen’s state of decline, which you did. Dr. Leifer believes the stimulation of your tangible allowed her to emerge from the coma. It’s possible you could have helped release her at any point in the past year, but that wasn’t attempted.”
“Because she shouldn’t be out of that coma,” Zeke said. “Why is everyone forgetting what she’s capable of?”
“No one is forgetting anything. But Dr. Leifer wants to exploit your connection with Karen as we proceed with our investigation.”
Zeke blatted out a disgusted noise. “Dr. Leifer is an idiot.”
“Dr. Leifer, whom you met one time for the space of ten minutes,” Adi said dryly, “is one of the top theoretical dreamspace researchers in the world. We’re lucky to have him here.”
When were Maggie and Zeke going to get another chance to talk to Adi privat
ely? There was a wealth of information in what Adi wasn’t telling them. Maggie could shut her eyes and see the writing on that wall.
In fact, she did shut her eyes. Until a hand closed on her shoulder, shaking her awake.
It was better than a gun barrel.
“This is all gonna have to wait. I need to put Maggie to bed.” Zeke urged her out of her chair but thankfully didn’t force her to do jumping jacks. God, she was tired. She smacked her cheeks to wake up. It always worked in the movies.
“I’m not a child,” she fussed through huge yawn. Her whole body seemed to be draining into her feet.
“That’s another thing,” Adi said. “After tonight, I’ll need Zeke with Karen Kingsbury twenty-four-seven until she matriculates. Think of it as an express GED program.”
“What the fuck? I don’t want to be with…” Zeke stopped himself from complete mutiny and muttered a few more curses. If the North American vigils cared about insubordination, Zeke and many others would have been dishonorably discharged long ago. “What about Maggie? Her shielding is imperfect and she can’t lock herself out of the sphere.”
Maggie rested her heavy head one hand, hoping she wouldn’t fall asleep while standing. Her shield had experienced a leap in quality, but she hadn’t been able to sustain it in the trance sphere—and she’d manifested wraiths as a result. How many had been “hers”? The ones that ate entire people?
Could another code one happen anytime Maggie slept? Was Adi so obsessed with finding out how Karen’s broken arm had healed that she’d risk everyone here?
“We really need to talk,” Maggie said. It came out more like “taaaaaaa” as she yawned. She had to tell them this was a bad idea, tell them she’d been there when Karen had manipulated them. “I made it to the sphere.”
“We realize that,” Adi said. “The code one was a bit of a giveaway.”
Maggie was too tired to argue. Unfortunately, she couldn’t prove Karen was responsible for anything besides malice. She couldn’t prove she herself wasn’t weak, couldn’t prove she wasn’t a nascent portal the wraiths intended to use to attack the physical plane. But didn’t Adi and Zeke need to know Karen had realized Maggie was there? Didn’t they need to know Maggie had kicked in that wraith’s head? She’d created the carcasses being studied in the bowels of the facility.
Best not to introduce this when she was standing next to a camera.
“Tonight,” Adi told them, “you can sleep together.” She paused while that sank in. They’d need to make good use of the time. Dreamsphere conversations could be private in a way terra firma conversations couldn’t.
“Maggie’s shield will need to be at phase two by tomorrow,” Adi continued. “I hate to sleep barricade an L5 disciple. It could deteriorate her progress.”
“I’ll take her in once a day,” Zeke said. “I can handle two phase ones.”
“Nobody can handle two phase ones,” Adi corrected, not ungently. While most alucinators needed to touch base with the sphere regularly, they couldn’t spend all their time inside it. It was both Somnium policy and good sense, since it led to irritability, hallucinations, and paranoia.
Except for curators. Or maybe that explained curators.
“I have to. She’s not ready, and she sure as fuck doesn’t need to be in there alone if you’re letting Karen into the sphere,” Zeke said. An increase in irritability would probably send Zeke over the edge.
Adi wouldn’t meet Maggie’s eyes. “She’ll have to be ready, and Karen will be with you, so she cannot harm Maggie. You must remain in top form, Zeke. You’re needed.”
Meaning she, Maggie, wasn’t needed, not like Zeke.
He crossed his arms. “Well, you’re not calling a fucking curator to take Maggie if you won’t call one for Karen.”
“I haven’t petitioned a curator for anyone, for the obvious reason that I don’t want one involved.” Adi smiled bitterly. “Unfortunately, classified information has a way of becoming unclassified. A curator may become interested no matter what. Would you feel better if we summon Lill to help her? I trust Lill completely, and she has no phase one students at this time.”
“My area will be short-staffed as hell if we lose another sentry to this mess,” Zeke said gruffly. “But at least Paolo’s back from paternity leave. He can confound instead of Lill.”
The alucinator skill of confounding witnesses—erasing memories when people saw things they shouldn’t—was highly valued for field teams and missions involving deadbeat dreamers. It was one of the primary reasons the dreamsphere had been able to stay hidden from humans throughout the ages. The skill was even more in demand now that technological advances complicated…pretty much everything. Confounders could basically write their own tickets.
“Where do we bunk?” Zeke asked.
“Blake will show you.” Adi opened the door, and Maggie, half supported by Zeke, finally got to leave the holding cell.
She didn’t miss the distrustful glances thrown her way by everyone she passed. Whether it had been confirmed the attack had been Maggie’s doing or not, she knew who was catching the blame for it.
The incompetent phase one disciple—the one who couldn’t shield for shit according to her own mentor.
The one who had one more sleep to get it right before her mentor had devote himself to his psycho ex-lover.
Chapter Nine
Zeke watched Maggie undress for what he knew could be the last time. While they didn’t get naked together, two months of sharing a room with her had given him a minor immunity to her half-nudity.
Very minor. Her back to him, she unbuttoned her blouse and draped it over the chair where her blazer already hung. The wide straps of her plain beige bra might not have been suggestive on anyone else, but to him she was sexy no matter what she did.
Shoving her cold feet against his legs at night?
Sexy.
Sparring with him in class—verbally or physically?
Sexy.
Eating a bowl of oatmeal while she read a book?
Sexy.
Cutting her fucking toenails, with her legs twisted and her eyes all squinty?
Sexy.
Getting ready for bed in a tiny bunkroom with two hostile guards stationed outside and his homicidal ex-girlfriend sleeping in the same building?
Still sexy.
He wanted Maggie to ditch that bra and tell him she’d been wrong to cut him off in the SUV. That she wanted him right here, right now.
Yeah, he had it bad.
She popped her nightgown over her head, one of her ugly flannel ones. The coma station was colder than base. With some shrugging and fumbling, she managed to unhook the bra under cover of the gown.
“It’s amazing how you do that,” he found himself saying. “You’re a contortionist.”
“What?” She slid an arm out the sleeve, wriggling her hand free. She paused for a huge, cracking yawn. The facility’s lights were night-dim but not off. It was dangerous to allow dark corners in a place where wraiths might manifest.
He waved his hand in her general direction. “The bra thing.”
“Beats flashing the people I have to share a room with.”
“I doubt it would burn my eyes out of their sockets.” He hadn’t gotten his hands on her gorgeous breasts in the SUV, but he’d almost touched her pussy. She’d been wet, even through her panties. And she’d stopped him.
Maggie was the grown-up in this relationship.
“You’re fixated on breasts.” She folded the brassiere in half and stashed it in her duffel bag as if she didn’t want him to see it. Was she thinking about the SUV make-out session like he was? “It’s tedious.”
“Not to me.” He flipped back the covers. He was always first between the sheets. It took her longer to get ready. “Come to bed.”
She fell onto the mattress beside him with
a groan. “The last time I was this tired, it was the night my parents…” She cleared her throat. “I’m really tired.”
She never talked about that night—the incident each alucinator experienced that shoved them into a downward spiral. If their sleeps took place in the same geographical location long enough, their nightmares broke through into the sphere.
That was when they found out monsters were real.
“I was eighteen,” he said abruptly. He wasn’t one to share, either. But tonight, possibly his and Maggie’s last night together—he found himself wanting something he couldn’t name. Something that had nothing to do with his hard-on or her breasts. He wanted that too, but he always wanted that. Tonight, he wanted something more. “My parents and sister. A fire.”
Untimely family deaths were sometimes, but not always, the instigation. Alucinators tended not to have children, as parenting seemed to lend potential dreamers a balance that kept them from going over the edge. Eighteen was about the youngest anyone came over.
Her cool hand slid into his. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too.” He’d grown up poor, with two working parents. Latch-key kids in a rough neighborhood. His home life hadn’t been fantastic but hadn’t been bad enough in and of itself to send him over the edge. That had happened after the tragedy—as it generally did.
It no longer felt like yesterday that he’d lost his family and gained a calling. He’d been an alucinator more years than he hadn’t been one. For Maggie, though, the wound was fresh, even though she had Hayden to share her pain with.
She could have Zeke if she wanted him.
“You can talk about it if you like,” he offered. He hadn’t encouraged that brand of intimacy, afraid it would beget other intimacies.
“It’s too depressing and I’m too tired.” The bed was narrower than the king-sized ones allotted to mentors and disciples at their base. His arm pressed hers. His leg pressed hers. The flannel of her gown was soft and old, and her warmth seeped through it.
At least thinking about his parents and her parents had taken care of his hard-on.
“Zeke,” she whispered. “Do you think you can get me to phase two by tomorrow?”
