He needed her inside a construct before that happened.
As he thought it, five beings emerged around him on the causeway.
In different ways they each made him aware of their presence...and despite their casual stances, each in some way blocked him from the ropes leading into security. Revik felt their movements occur as one, a near-perfect synchronization that was not human.
He reached for the Glock, using his other hand, but the female closest to him shook her head minutely, and he found he knew her.
Relaxing his fingers, he opened his palm to sign his question.
Are we inside the construct?
She answered him with her mind.
Yes, brother. We have arranged for you to board another way.
She nodded towards his fingers, indicating his gun.
Revik found himself relieved they were letting him keep it. As he began to follow her away from the security line and down a side passage, he realized two of the Seven’s guard wore United States Homeland Security uniforms.
When Revik next turned to look at the female hunter, Chandre, he caught her studying Allie’s light, a thinly veiled curiosity shining from her own structures. He felt his jaw harden, but knew it was natural...they would be interested in her. Still, he would rather have a few minutes’ breathing space before he had to handle more reactions to her light, whether human or seer. He continued to watch Chandre warily when the infiltrator visibly startled.
She looked between the two of them, her dark eyes widening as she confirmed what she’d seen above each of their heads.
Revik sent a ripple of irritation until the woman’s red-tinted eyes shifted to his.
Manners, Chandre.
Sorry, brother...er, sir. They did not tell us.
Some discretion would be appreciated.
The woman bowed. Of course, sir. And congratulations.
Revik nodded, once. He glanced around at her unit.
Won’t seven be conspicuous? He had expected five. How big is your whole contingent?
Chandre quirked an eyebrow.
It’s a large ship, sir. You won’t even know we’re here.
Hearing the subtext in her deliberate misunderstanding, he gave her a look that made it clear he wasn’t amused.
He brought the Bridge with him as he walked past Chandre and another smiling seer, then glanced back to see if Allie had noticed the exchange. Her gaze took in the other guards before coming to rest on the dark-skinned Chandre. Allie stepped closer to him as she stared, her eyes faintly glazed, still almost not-there as she crushed into his side as they walked.
From her face and light, he knew she was in shock. It made sense that her light would draw to his, as the safest option there...but the ease with which his own light responded made him tense all over again.
In a way, he even understood her reaction to Chandre. The East Indian Sark looked exactly like what she was, a highly paid infiltrator. Despite their reddish tint, her eyes had a hint of cold to them, as if she assessed all objects from a distance; she looked at Allie that way, too.
It occurred to him in the same breath that Chandre had already been briefed on the contingency.
Then it clicked. They would no longer trust him to perform it himself.
He had been effectively removed from duty.
Staring around, another piece fell into place. Having such a large Guard presence was a part of that message; they needed enough seers to take him down if he got in the way.
Meeting Chandre’s gaze, he realized that she was putting the same thoughts together behind her dark red eyes.
His fingers tightened around Allie’s as they reached a small desk, where a lone customs official examined their documentation before waving them through. Revik could tell from the man’s eyes that he was human, and had been heavily pushed into believing some lie. So had the woman who smilingly directed them around the obligatory photo backdrop that the rest of the ship’s passengers were being escorted through in an assembly line, getting their pictures snapped while two photographers danced around, trying to get smiles from the humans and pump up the cruise-goers for their vacations.
“Come on!” he heard one of the photographers half-shriek. “Let’s see some party faces, y’all! There now! That’s better!”
“If either of you need anything, sir,” Chandre said politely, in English, as they neared the gangplank and the line of people boarding. “You need only say the word. We will of course expect you to restrict your movements around the ship...”
Revik glanced at Allie, saw her listening to the infiltrator intently.
He hoped like hell Chandre wouldn’t make some crack about...
“...We have purchased an entire corridor,” she continued, her voice still smoothly polite. “And made some modifications for your comfort. You will be briefed on the rules once we are underway. Clothing and food have already been sent to your cabin, as well as training materials for Alyson. You will not be expected to adhere to ship’s routines...”
“You mean I can’t leave the room,” Allie muttered.
Revik glanced at her again.
Chandre smiled at her faintly, quirking an eyebrow.
“That is correct, Esteemed Bridge...for you, anyway. Dehgoies may leave, provided he follows the rules of the construct, and checks in and out with one of our team.” She smiled. “Vash seemed to feel he might be tempted to break rules if we restricted him too much...but perhaps he can smuggle in anything you need, Esteemed Bridge? Anything you do not wish to ask us for...?”
Revik gave Allie another brief look.
She was studying the infiltrator, her eyes faintly wary.
He saw a faint glimmer of that older look in them, and felt himself reacting to her again. Realizing he was still crushing her fingers, he loosened his hold, gesturing to Chandre that they understood.
He moved them away a beat later, aiming his feet up the ramp to the gangplank, where the velvet-roped corridor joined the line for the other passengers. He entered the crowd thickening before the portal to the ship before looking at Allie again.
Leaning down so he wouldn’t be overheard, he squeezed her hand.
“Are you all right?” he said.
“Who are they?” Her eyes continued to follow the seers who fanned out behind them. Each of the infiltrators let themselves be absorbed into the crowd, but Allie’s eyes found Chandre among the faces. She tracked the hunter’s movements through the crowd with an ease that surprised him a little.
“Friends,” he said. “Ullsya’s people.”
She looked up. Her eyes still shone with that faint light, greener even with the contacts, and a whisper of pain went through his chest.
“You aren’t acting like they’re friends,” she said.
He shrugged. “They are curious about you.” He hesitated. “Do not talk to them, Allie. Stay out of their way.”
“You just said they were friends.”
“I just meant...do not distract them from their job.”
“Did she call you ‘sir’?”
His face grew warm. Her attention to detail was starting to unnerve him a little. “Yes.”
“So we’re in the military now?”
“No.” He stared down at her face, at a loss. “We’ll talk about it later. After we sleep, Allie.”
She nodded absently, clearly hearing the “sleep” part and not much else.
He hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder at Chandre. He needed to get them in contact with the team in San Francisco, as soon as possible. When he looked at the hunter, he saw her nod, just before she signed that they had someone on it already.
Apparently Chandre had done more than look at the structure in Allie’s light that connected her to him.
...We’ll have news in under an hour, sir.
Revik gestured for her to give it to him alone.
He waited until Chandre gestured in assent, but he didn’t miss the appraising look she gave him at the request.
He glanced at Allie again. He suspected she already knew what had happened in San Francisco. Even so, he knew from experience that knowing and knowing were two different things. He didn’t want her receiving verification of some loved one’s death as an emotionless report from an infiltrator who viewed her family as nothing but human collaterals.
He continued to study the Bridge’s face as she gazed up at the ship’s high walls, trying not to care that the guards were watching him look at her, or that her proximity was having an effect on him again...an effect they could probably see in his light.
He had to remind himself that she’d only been awake a few weeks, that she still didn’t understand how she was different.
He had to remind himself also that she really had no idea what was going on with the two of them.
Perhaps it had been a mistake to not let Ullysa and the others explain it to her in Seattle.
He was still watching her face when she leaned on his arm, merging her light overtly into his. Sucking in a breath, he closed his light, glancing reflexively at the seers watching. He saw more than one of them smiling and turned his gaze up the white face of the ship, shuffling his feet forward with the motion of the crowd, willing the line to go faster.
16
GRIEF
A WOLF RUNS across the tundra, tongue flicking over black lips, body elongating in rhythmic waves. It extends to full stride and retracts, stretching paws so that none of its feet touch the ground. Insanity flickers behind its eyes, joy in its feet pounding the snow in steady bursts of powder.
It runs at a single dark form marring the white plain.
I scream, my voice torn by wind.
...and again dawn colors the sky, and a dark shape burns in the distance, filling the pale blue with a curl of smoke like expelled ink. My chest feels as if someone’s taken an ice pick to it, hitting it again and again, digging out the tender light at its core.
It is a feeling worse than death.
I JERKED AWAKE. Warm weight pinned me to something soft. I started to struggle...then looked down, saw an arm. It took another series of blinks before I recognized the silver ring he wore around his smallest finger.
Then I remembered.
Grief came without warning, with a depth and intensity I had no way to evade. Days had gone by and it wouldn’t let up...wouldn’t let me forget for more than seconds at a time. Everything amplified, got harder to control. Revik told me that was normal too, part of ‘the awakening’ around me being a seer...and I fought a near-violent reaction towards him and all of the seers as I replayed his words like a dead-sounding record.
He’d been the bearer of a lot of bad news lately.
...found her in her house. She’d been dead several hours, Allie. Most of her blood was gone...
Behind me, his arm tightened around me lengthwise. His fingers wrapped around my shoulder, drawing my back snugly against his chest.
His voice had been soft as he translated for the infiltration team in San Francisco, not leaving anything out, not embellishing.
As he spoke, I’d seen and heard what they found as they picked their way through Mom’s house like shadows among the SFPD. Images accompanied his words...my mother’s eyes staring up from where she lay by the television below a section of wall painted in her blood. A child’s hand print stood out, small and innocuous-looking, like the outline of a Thanksgiving turkey painting made in kindergarten. Someone had eaten a sandwich and left the crusts on Jon’s old Transformers plate on the low coffee table beside the body, along with a half-full glass of milk. The bedroom showed signs of a struggle, sheets half on the floor, a lamp broken.
The cops took pictures of a dark stain on the carpet by the lamp.
They took pictures of another rust-colored hand print on the refrigerator door, that one larger. They photographed the body from every possible angle, then zipped it up in a bag, like the garbage Mom always forgot to put on the curb.
I felt the weight of guilt on Revik as he relayed details ruthlessly...but I didn’t blame him.
My mom’s safety couldn’t possibly have been his priority. It should have been mine.
The news media agreed. Within an hour, the feeds began accusing me of matricide, saying I’d allied with seer terrorists against homo sapiens, arguing on talk platforms about whether other seers brainwashed me or if I masterminded the whole thing. The police claimed to have DNA proof that I’d done the actual killing, as well as evidence that a male seer, possibly more than one, had ejaculated in my mother’s bed while Mom lay dying.
That last part, Revik said, was deliberately crafted to incite public outrage.
It didn’t make it any easier to hear.
We sat on the couch in the small ship’s cabin for hours that first night. He led me there before he told me anything.
Sitting me down, he peeled the prosthetics off my face carefully, throwing them one by one into a small trashcan while I watched. He indicated for me to remove the contact lenses. Once I had, he threw those away as well.
He pulled me to him then, holding me against his chest as if to contain something that might otherwise explode outward, coating the cabin walls with their seashell wallpaper and bland paintings. After he’d gotten the initial reports back from Chandre—the small, muscular, female seer with long black braids and frightening-looking reddish eyes who commanded the shipboard guard—I still hadn’t been able to cry. I had no idea if he drugged me, or used his light to get my vigil to finally end. But eventually I fell asleep.
That had been days ago.
The cruise ship docked at least once during that time, letting human tourists off for shore excursions and kayaking, trips to see wooden totem poles carved as eagles and bear spirits, and authentic salmon bakes with real Native Americans.
Revik parked me in front of a media player with a remote, the room service menu, and a list of pay-per-view channels. I’d flipped through listlessly before settling on a bland comedy with a talking dog and two teenagers who were lost...somewhere.
Now, it was dark outside again.
I heard the sound of water being pushed out of the way by the ship’s prow, churning an inexorable wake. The glass door to the balcony stood propped open, a single orange bulb glowing over its frame, illuminating spray-filled wind.
Revik disliked enclosed spaces, I’d learned, especially while he slept. Air always had to be flowing from somewhere, no matter how cold. He’d sat with me again that night, once he got back from one of his wanders outside the cabin.
After what felt like hours where we curled up together on the couch, he got up, stretched, and left me sitting alone on one end like a posable doll. He went through cabinets, searching drawers and in-built closets along the curved walls and even in the bathroom.
I had no idea what he was looking for, until he emerged with a bottle of vodka and a gun.
I’d laughed aloud.
He aimed a quizzical look in my direction until I motioned for him to pass over the vodka, which he’d done reluctantly. Taking the bottle back as I started to open it with my fingers, he poured me a glass, watched me down it in a single shot. He poured me one more, and while I drank it, the bottle promptly disappeared. I didn’t see where, although I watched him, fighting a head rush from the alcohol, so tired I literally couldn’t make myself stand, though I’d barely moved all day and badly needed the toilet.
Taking my arm, he’d pulled me to my feet.
Opening a series of drawers, he grabbed the tank top, underwear and sweats I wore now before steering me into the bathroom and laying the clothes on the sink.
Seeing him about to speak, possibly to say something more meaningful than I could handle right then, I pointed at the clothes.
“Are those mine?” I actually recognized the shirt.
He nodded. “Ullysa took care of it.”
I felt a strange surge. “Oh.”
He felt where my head was going. “Before, Allie. While your family was still being questioned by SCARB and t
he Feds.” He hesitated. “Do you need help? You should take a shower.”
After a pause that stretched longer than it should have, I shook my head.
Studying my eyes a few seconds longer, Revik let go of my arm and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Fingering the clothes still on my body, I realized those were mine too. I wondered how long I’d worn them, and replayed Revik’s comment about a shower. That was probably his way of telling me I stank.
I felt broken; I couldn’t believe how broken I was.
My mind tried to wrap around what that meant, to snap out of it, while I showered. The room had filled with steam by the time I finally came out, but it felt like no time had passed at all.
It had, though. He already lay on the bed, his pale legs sprawled on the coverlet beneath gray sweat shorts. His legs were muscular, I noticed, with a fine coating of dark hair. He caught me staring.
“It’ll be cold,” I said. “With the door open.”
He gestured me over, not speaking. I followed the motion of his hands in something like resignation. Other than guilt, I didn’t know what motivated him, but I couldn’t make myself care enough to ask him to stop. I let him hold me, thinking I’d never sleep after sleeping all day, then...nothing else.
He’d been talking to me, even then. I don’t remember anything he said.
Outside, black sky beckoned.
Pulling his fingers off me gently, I slid out from under his arm, shivering at another curl of wind that gusted through the cracked door to the balcony. I angled my legs off the bed, touching my feet to the carpeted floor, trying not to move the mattress as I regained my feet.
Sliding through the gap in the glass door, I walked across our room’s small balcony. My toes curled when they met the icy deck. Gripping the railing, I looked out over white and dark churning ocean before letting my gaze travel up.
Allie's War Season One Page 21
