by Koch, Gini
I buried my face in my hands and sobbed quietly. I couldn’t go to my parents because it would put them in danger. I couldn’t tell anyone else—if they locked me up for study we were all going to be dead.
Someone’s arms went around me, and I was up against a body. A rock hard, well-proportioned body. “It’s okay,” Martini said softly. “I’m sorry.”
I couldn’t keep from putting my arms around him. “What, I have to be hysterical for you to believe me?” He was going to have another wet shirt at the rate I was going.
He stroked my back. “In a way. You’re right, there’s an external emotional layer blocking yours. And what we’ve gone through this morning is grueling from an empathic standpoint. But I could feel it when you started to cry—it was just like last night at the airport and then after your nightmare.” He kissed my head. “I’m sorry, baby. Please stop crying.”
“You won’t believe me if I stop!” I was losing it, and I couldn’t get under control.
Martini shifted and slid his hands to the sides of my head. He moved me so I was looking into his eyes. “I’ll believe you. This is going to be really hard. My empathic synapses are burned out, and all my normal blocks are shot. I need to regenerate, and the only way to do that is in an isolation chamber, and I need at least twelve hours of sleep in there, too. I know we don’t have the time. I can feel the entity, but it’s not connected to you like a parasite would be. It’s got to be the implanted memories from Mephistopheles trying to take over. It seems like they’re growing stronger over time.”
“He wants me to kill you and Christopher. I know it. I know that’s why I saw that in the dream. Everyone else will be taken care of—killed or turned into superbeings. But not you two. He wants the two of you dead.”
“Do you know why?”
“No.” I really didn’t. I was sure I should be afraid of the answer, though. “I just know he’s coming. And soon. You’re right, we don’t have time for you to regenerate.”
A small smile crept across his mouth. “There are a couple of things that help.” He bent and kissed me.
I could have cried with relief. Still felt great, still wiped out most of whatever was worrying me. One hand slid behind my head and the other down my back. My arms were already around him, and I tightened my hold, clutching at him.
It was a long kiss, but he finally pulled away a bit. “Is this room soundproof?” I asked as soon as I could form words again.
“It’s a library, so, yeah, we followed Earth standards.” He looked confused.
“Does the door lock?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, I’ve always had this fantasy about being ravaged on a conference table.” Odd but true. I hadn’t shared this with anyone before, however.
His eyes were smoldering again, but he also looked a little frustrated. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but that great idea’s going to have to wait. This is one of those need-to-conserve energy times. And a good ravaging takes time and energy.”
“I can wait.” If I had to. Damned psychotic superbeings always messing up a great ravaging opportunity.
“Good. It’ll give me something to live for.” He kissed me again, then pulled me close. “I’m probably only going to pick up extreme emotions from you now, and they’re likely to be really faint. So screaming for help out loud might be a good idea.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Do. Now, you should do whatever ritual you have to say good-bye in case you’re not coming back.”
My arms tightened around him. “Can’t we just pretend it’s a given?”
“I wish. No, you need to see your parents. I’ll take you there. Now.” Martini lifted me off the table and stood me up.
“I thought I was in charge of this particular operation.”
He grinned. “Only when everyone else is around.”
CHAPTER 34
MARTINI KEPT HIS ARM AROUND MY SHOULDERS, and I kept mine around his waist as we left the library to head back to the transient section. I was still freaked that he might think I hated him, and besides, holding him felt good.
We didn’t get too far, however, when one of the many A-Cs I couldn’t place came racing up. The Armani fatigues and general hunkiness made them all look alike after a while. “Jeff, we have a situation.”
“Unless it’s Mephistopheles, it can probably wait.” Martini didn’t sound angry, annoyed, or uninterested—he sounded tired.
“We don’t think it can,” the agent said. “The teams involved called for direction.”
Martini sighed. “Okay.” We followed the agent out of the library, to the elevators, and back up to the level where we’d arrived, what I was pretty sure was the Bat Cave level. I wasn’t positive—I could have been here before or never hit this floor at all. I felt like a small rat in a really large maze inside the Science Center.
We headed to a large room within the Bat Cave that was a lot like Batman’s inner sanctum, only no one was in a rubber suit with a nifty cape. Lots of big screens, lots of computer terminals, lots of other things I couldn’t identify. The décor screamed Command Center.
Martini and I unhooked just as Christopher ran in from another door. “Glad they found you,” he said to Martini. “It’s more of a Field situation, from what little I’ve gotten.”
Martini nodded, and they stood side by side in front of the main screens. Any animosity there had been between them in the library seemed gone. I had to figure this wasn’t any ordinary problem.
“What do we have?” Martini asked as images came up on-screen.
A new A-C answered. “East Base reports clustered activity.”
“Clustered activity?” I couldn’t help it, I had to ask.
“Multiple parasites,” Christopher answered. Without snarling or glaring. Either he’d taken a happy pill or this was a really scary thing. “We have the media under control—there was enough time for that—but not the actual manifestations.”
“How many?” Martini asked. Just like at JFK, there was no indication of humor or lightheartedness.
The A-C who’d brought us here cleared his throat. “At least fifty.” Images popped up on the big screens in front of us. This was a sports fanatic’s dream TV set up—we had picture within picture, every game on side-by-side, and then some. All fifty manifestations were on-screen, which now meant we were watching horror movie tryouts.
Some of the hopefuls were really giving it their all to win America’s Most Terrifying Monster. I wanted to figure out a way to tell them all they weren’t going to make it to the finals, but considering what was in front of me, some of them had an excellent chance of making Mephistopheles really proud.
“Jeff, you’re live to the Field,” another one said quietly.
Martini started talking, with a lot of authority and very, very fast. As if he were the world’s fastest auctioneer on some serious speed. So fast I realized I couldn’t comprehend it; it was like a barrage of data. I caught snippets—he was deploying different teams from other regions, requesting some military support for some of the affected areas, ordering other teams to disengage, and so on.
I realized he was speaking at the standard A-C level, probably slowly, considering he seemed to be speaking clearly. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t understand it as a human—it was also making me feel dizzy.
I took a step back. Didn’t get any better. My passing out right now wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, but the dizzy didn’t stop. The only saving grace was that I was pretty sure Martini wasn’t going to be able to pick up that I was about to barf or pass out—one small benefit of his empathic whatevers being burned out.
Thankfully, for whatever reason, Christopher looked over his shoulder and backed up. Martini didn’t notice, probably because he was completely engrossed in saving the entire East Coast from becoming superbeing sushi.
Christopher caught me before I went down. “I’m going to take Kitty to the Imageering side,” he said quietly to the A-Cs nea
r us. “Don’t disturb him, but the moment he notices she’s gone, make sure he knows where she is.”
He moved me through the door he’d come in from. It had a lot of screens and crap in it, too. I was too close to barfing my guts out to really take it in. He put me into a chair in a far corner, then squatted down. “You going to be okay?”
I managed to nod, but I had to close my eyes. “That was almost as bad as the gates or hyperspeed.”
“Yeah.” Someone began massaging my temples. I assumed it was Christopher but didn’t feel up to opening my eyes to find out.
I was still nauseated, but even through that the thought occurred that he was actually being nice. “You okay?”
“I’m an A-C. It’s normal for us.”
Not what I’d meant, but as my stomach started to settle, I had enough brainpower going to keep my mouth shut. This was probably the most pleasant Christopher had managed to be to me, and I didn’t want a lecture from Mom about how he’d extended the olive branch and I’d burned it or something.
I finally felt well enough to open my eyes. Christopher gave me a small smile. “Better? Or do you need a wastebasket?”
I managed a chuckle. “I’m all for skipping lunch, but otherwise, I’m okay, I think.”
“Good.” He took his hands away slowly. “You sure you’re up for what’s coming?”
“As long as you all promise not to talk too fast for the humans, I think so.”
He gave me a long look. “You realize the chances of our dying are exponential.”
“I could drive my car down the highway and die, too. Well, I could if I freaking knew where you put it, that is.”
Christopher actually didn’t glare or snarl at this—he laughed. “It’s safe. Not here, but safe. We stored it in Pueblo Caliente.”
“Good to know. People die all the time. From all I’ve learned in the past day and a half, my mother’s been living on the edge for most of her life, and she’s still here.”
“You’re not afraid?”
I thought about it. “Yeah, I am. But I’m more afraid of Mephistopheles taking me over and enacting his version of the Master Race through me.” I shrugged. “I guess I don’t come from hide-under-the-bed stock.”
He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been picking that up.”
Christopher smiling was something of a shock. Like all the A-Cs, he was gorgeous. But when he was busy scowling or glaring, it was hard to notice. Smiling, I realized, he was easily as handsome as Martini, albeit in his own way.
“Thanks for getting me out of there.”
He shook his head. “Jeff shouldn’t have brought you in.”
“I don’t think he realized what was happening. The guy who found us wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the level of the badness. And Jeff’s not feeling a hundred percent. He told me his empathic . . . thingies . . . are burned out.”
“Synapses.” He grinned. “Thingies can work, too, of course. Still . . .” His smile faded, and suddenly Christopher was looking at me with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for. I felt my cheeks get hot for no reason I could name.
Someone came up behind him. “What’s going on?” Martini didn’t sound amused.
I jerked my head up. He didn’t look amused, either. “I got sort of . . . sick.”
Christopher stood up slowly, looking at me the whole time. Then he turned around. “I decided letting her collapse on the floor would be bad for morale. Problem with that?” Christopher was in profile to me, so it was easy to see that he was glaring. I was fairly sure it was the little-used but ever-impressive Glare #4, which was heavy on the slitted eyes while keeping the mouth ready for sarcasm.
“None at all.” Martini’s voice and expression said differently, though I didn’t think his problem was with me not being in a heap at his feet. “Things are handled. You’re sure your side has things under control?”
“Positive.”
“I ask because you seemed a lot more interested in Kitty than in ensuring things are taken care of. We’ve had enough leaks these past few days.”
“Oh? You’re the only one allowed to focus on her instead of taking care of things? Interesting.” He shifted gears from #4 to #1. I figured he’d learned to always go with the classics when things were tense.
“I told you not to push me on this,” Martini growled in a low voice.
“And I told you to stop playing games,” Christopher replied in kind. “She doesn’t deserve that.”
“I’ll bet I know exactly what you think she deserves.”
“More than you can offer her? Yeah, I do think she deserves that.”
This was just like when we’d arrived from LaGuardia the night before, only Mom wasn’t here to pull me away. I had a feeling they didn’t remember I was sitting next to them, either, which was kind of awkward.
I cleared my throat. Both heads snapped toward me. Martini was glaring but put his bland “it’s all good” face on. Christopher reduced Glare #1 down to what I could call sadly pensive.
“Um, can you two save this for when we engage Mephistopheles? I mean, all the testosterone’s great, big cave men, girl impressed, and all that, but don’t we have the fugly of fuglies to stop?”
Christopher closed his eyes. “Sorry. You’re right.” I had to find out what happy pills he’d taken—I wanted to be able to slip them into his drink whenever he was being normal.
Martini nodded. “Now that things are handled, maybe you should go take care of Claudia and Lorraine,” he suggested.
Christopher’s eyes opened. “Fine.” He looked at me. “Be careful.” He headed toward the door.
“I’ll take care of her,” Martini said.
Christopher looked over his shoulder. “Right. Because you’re so good at that.”
He stalked out, and I risked a glance at Martini. The “it’s all good” look was nowhere to be found. He looked hurt and angry and a little bit scared. I didn’t like this look. “Jeff? You okay?”
He managed a smile, which erased the other expressions so that now all he looked was tired. Martini took my hand and helped me up. “Yeah, baby. I’m fine.” He kissed my forehead. “The world’s safe for another few hours. So, let’s go see your parents.”
CHAPTER 35
WE GOT ABOUT TEN PACES outside of Command Center Central when Reader ran up. “Jeff, I just heard about the clusters. Are we secured?”
“Yeah.” Martini managed to sound exhausted with only one syllable.
Reader’s eyes narrowed. “You need to go into isolation.”
Martini snorted. “Like we have the time.”
“We can wait on this a day.”
I cleared my throat. Both men looked at me. This throat clearing thing really worked around here. “No, we can’t wait. I know Mephistopheles is coming, and this clustered stuff was proof.”
“How do you mean?” Reader asked. “Clustering does happen.”
“Yeah? Does it happen right after Mephistopheles or another in-control superbeing manifests?”
Uncomfortable looks between the two of them. Reader sighed. “Usually right before.” Another fun fact no one shared with me. I wondered if they couldn’t stop the fuglies because they didn’t feel the need to trade information or do analysis. Then again, the person they weren’t sharing with was me, so maybe it was just some sort of bizarre initiation rite—figure it all out without help, we teach you the secret handshake sort of thing. “But never as many as I heard. Thirty? Really?” he asked Martini.
“Over fifty.” Martini sighed. “Kitty’s right. We don’t have the time. I’ll manage. I’ve worked with less energy before.”
Reader’s expression said this wasn’t a lie so much as scary business as usual. Didn’t know whether to be relieved or freaked out. Went for both, to show my range.
Martini filled Reader in on what he’d done in the Command Center. It wasn’t at hypertalk level, but after the first few “and then Team 27 was deployed to Sector WV1 while support was called up from AB12,” lines,
I stopped listening. It wasn’t making me want to pass out from dizziness, just boredom.
Impromptu briefing of boredom completed, Martini and I headed for my parents’ room. Again. Stopped by a variety of A-Cs along the way. Put my fingers in my ears and hummed Aerosmith’s “Eat the Rich” to myself so Martini could do the hypertalk and we could keep moving.
I would have thought all this debriefing would have tired him out more—it certainly was making me feel tired—but by the time we reached the elevator banks, Martini seemed back to reasonably normal. We’d taken so long that I was pretty much over the nausea, too. We got into an elevator and spent the entire trip kissing. I was very disappointed and completely aroused when we got to the right floor.
He merely held my hand as we left the elevator, which was okay, since I had no idea if we’d come upon my parents suddenly and really didn’t feel like explaining what was going on with me and Martini, since it was getting beyond complicated.
On the way down the hall Martini pointed out where my room actually was and where his room was in relation to it. I was on the elevator side, a few rooms down, he was on the opposite side of the hall, a few more down. Now that I was really looking around, it was like a combination hospital and hotel. Very austere, no decorations, but lots of rooms, and, once inside them, they were pretty darned nice.
My parents were near the end of the hall, much farther away from me than Martini. I wondered if he’d had anything to do with the room placement. As we neared the door, I could hear the sounds of four dogs barking. Ah, all was normal—as long as they could bark, our dogs were happy.
Martini knocked on the door, and the barking got much closer. “Hush!” Dad shouted as he opened the door. The tide of canines crashed into us. This time I steadied Martini as Dudley leaped up and put his paws on Martini’s shoulders.
“Argh!” Dudley shared he really liked Martini by licking his face.
“Dad, any chance of calling off the hounds?” I grabbed Dotty and Duchess and wrestled them back into the room. Duke, however, followed Dudley’s lead and jumped on Martini. I didn’t think he was going to remain on his feet much longer.
