by Melinda Metz
I haven’t felt any pain or fear or anything from Michael. Or from Trevor, Adam thought. He emptied the dustpan into the garbage can behind the information counter. So they’re probably okay.
He did a scan of the museum, hoping there was some other party cleanup task to keep him busy. When his eyes passed over the big front window, he felt an itchy sensation go from the top of his neck all the way to the base of his spine. Windows still sort of gave him the creeps sometimes. Gave him that feeling of huge amounts of space out there, waiting to bear down on him.
Adam touched the sunglasses in his pocket but didn’t put them on. They’d been a present from Liz when he first got out of the compound. She’d thought they’d help cut down on the bewildering and dazzling stimuli that was part of everyday life aboveground. And they’d worked. But Adam liked the dazzle, even when it made him feel a little nuts.
He put the broom and the dustpan in the little closet behind the counter, then hesitated. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be doing something—like maybe going to talk to Max and Isabel and see if the three of them could figure out some course of action to deal with the Trevor situation. Adam figured it was better than going upstairs and sitting on his butt, just hoping everything was okay with Michael.
He hurried to the front door and realized there was someone standing on the other side. Liz.
Adam’s fingers shook as he fumbled with the lock and opened the door for her. His heart contracted as he saw that her eyes were red from crying and that her aura had crimson splotches of anger almost completely obscured by a thick webbing of the dark purple that signified deep grief.
“I guess you heard about Michael and Trevor,” he began.
Liz dropped a gym bag on the floor. “Do you think I could stay here with you guys for a while? I’d go to Maria’s, but I’m sure my father would find me and drag me home.”
Obviously this wasn’t about Michael and Trevor. “Of course you can stay,” Adam told her. “Stay as long as you want. But Liz, what’s wrong?”
“I had a fight with my papa,” she answered, twisting her long dark hair into a knot on top of her head. “A fight. That sounds so minor.” Her voice broke, and Adam saw fresh tears begin to fall down her cheeks. “I don’t know if he’ll ever talk to me again. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to go home.”
She covered her face with her hands, but she couldn’t hide the fact that her shoulders were heaving with sobs, sobs Adam could almost feel shaking his own body.
What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? A guy who hadn’t lived his life underground would know. A guy who wasn’t a total freakazoid would know exactly how to comfort her.
He took a tentative step toward Liz, and then she flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face against the front of his T-shirt. He could feel her warm tears soaking through the material to his skin.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, feeling totally helpless and useless. “Everything is going to be okay.”
She shook her head, her face still pressed against him, and her hair tumbled back down. Adam reached out and combed his fingers through it in long, even strokes. “It really is going to be okay,” he repeated.
He tried to keep his thoughts away from the fact that Liz’s body was touching his. This was so not the time. But his skin turned to fire at every contact point, and Adam could hardly breathe with wanting her. His hands longed to explore the curves of her body, experience the texture of her skin. Adam denied them. He kept lightly brushing Liz’s hair.
He remembered having a nightmare when he was a little boy in the compound. One of the guards, a woman, had come into his glass cell and sat on his bed. She’d stroked his hair until he’d fallen back asleep. That was what Liz needed from him right now. Warmth, not heat.
Gradually the sobs shuddering through her body grew gentler, then stopped. Liz lifted her head.
“Sorry,” she mumbled without looking at him. She brushed at the wet spot on the front of his T-shirt, the light pressure of her fingers sending jolts through his body. “Sorry I bawled all over you.”
He gently pulled her hand away from his shirt. “Don’t worry about it.” He started to release her, but her fingers twined around his. Adam marveled at how he could feel that touch all the way down to the arches of his feet.
“You’re so sweet,” Liz said, finally looking at him. They were almost exactly the same height, so her dark brown eyes met his evenly. She leaned closer and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Adam didn’t have a chance to react before it was over, before his first kiss ever was over.
“You’re sweet, too,” Adam answered, although the word was totally inadequate to describe Liz. His eyes dropped to her lips, her beautifully shaped, beautifully full lips. Michael said it’s okay for friends to kiss, he thought.
It was as if the thought propelled him forward. He hesitated with his lips a fraction of an inch away from hers. She didn’t pull away, so he kissed her, a kiss only seconds longer than hers had been.
Or at least it would have been that short if Liz hadn’t cupped the back of his head with one hand, keeping his mouth on hers. It’s like all my molecules are … dancing, Adam thought fuzzily.
Then he felt Liz’s tongue teasing open his lips, and all thought slammed to a halt. Adam was thrown into a universe of pure sensation—hot, wet, sweet.
Liz.
Adam pulled Liz closer, greedy for even more. She responded by sliding her hands up under his shirt, her palms running across his bare back.
He pushed her thick hair to one side so his fingers could taste the skin at the base of her neck. He felt a little shiver rip through her, and he was awed by the realization that he could have that effect on her. On Liz.
Adam wrenched his lips away from her mouth, hating to leave it but needing to continue discovering her, needing to make her shiver again. He traced the line of her jaw with his tongue, then moved down and concentrated on the hollow of her throat, sucking at the tender center, scraping his teeth lightly against her collarbone.
Liz shivered again, then she slowly eased herself away from him. “We can’t…. We have to stop.”
Adam’s ability to think slowly returned. “Why?” he asked, his body screaming to return to hers.
“Max,” Liz said simply.
The name was like a gallon of ice water thrown over Adam.
“Right. Max,” he repeated.
“I used to hang out here a lot, when things got too intense at one of my homes. It’s the cave where our pods were left until it was time for us to break free,” Michael told Trevor. “There’s a sleeping bag over there.” He pointed to the back of the cave. “And there are some canteens and food stashed in that hole I carved out of the limestone.”
“Thanks,” Trevor said. He walked over and sat down on the bag. Michael sat down next to him and leaned back against the hard, cool wall.
What if Trevor is dangerous?
The thought flashed through Michael’s head so fast, he didn’t have time to stop it. He glanced over at Trevor. He hoped his brother hadn’t seen any trace of suspicion in Michael’s aura.
“Sorry about what happened back at the museum,” Michael said. They hadn’t talked about it during the drive out to the cave. They’d just listened to the radio and pretended everything was normal.
“I guess I should have said something, defended myself. I was just too blown away,” Trevor said. He gave a harsh bark of laugher. “No one’s ever called me a killer before.”
“You’ve got to get out more,” Michael joked. Or tried to. It sounded funnier in his head. That seemed to happen a lot with Trevor, the sounded-better-in-the-head phenomenon.
“I almost could see the humans being suspicious of me, but …” Trevor let his words trail off.
“It’s not a nonhuman-human thing,” Michael explained. He shifted slightly, trying to find a position where the cave wall wouldn’t dig into his spine. “If you
’d asked me six months ago, I’d have told you that there was no way a human could be trusted not to murder you in your sleep.”
The word murder seemed to come out of his mouth louder than the others. What if Max is right about Trevor? Michael thought again.
Michael squeezed his hand into a fist, grinding the bits of glass deeper, hoping the pain would bring back his righteous anger, his absolute certainty that Max and Alex had no clue what Trevor was really about. It didn’t.
“There have been tons of times when Alex, Liz, and Maria have put their own lives in danger to save me, Max, and Isabel,” Michael continued, suddenly feeling very tired. He stretched out onto his back. But it felt weird to be lying down with Trevor still sitting up, so Michael shoved himself upright again.
“So I know for sure that nothing that was said tonight had anything to do with who is human and who isn’t. Actually, I don’t even think Maria necessarily believed that Alex was right about you,” Michael rushed on. “And Liz—Liz is totally logical. When she hears about this, I can guarantee you she won’t jump to any conclusions.”
Although logic might tell Liz to err on the side of caution. Logic might tell her that they should all stay very far away from Trevor if and until they were absolutely sure he wasn’t a threat.
“What about Isabel?” Trevor asked, his gray eyes glittering with intensity.
“I think Izzy was withholding judgment,” Michael answered. “It looked like she wanted to hear everything before she made up her mind.”
“But she’s willing to consider the possibility that I would have killed Alex for the Stone if I could,” Trevor said, bitterness edging his voice.
Michael thought about the cool way Isabel had asked her questions back at the museum. “I’m not going to lie to you—I think Isabel is in guilty-until-proven-innocent mode.” He took a deep breath. “Too much has happened to her—to all of us, I guess—to make it that easy to trust people.”
“I don’t have to ask what Max thought,” Trevor said.
Michael reached into the hole in the cave wall, pulled down a battered metal canteen, and took a long swig. “Grape soda and soy sauce. Want some?”
Trevor took the canteen, tilted back his head, and let some of the drink pour down his throat. “Excellent,” he said.
“We’re pretty much the only ones who think so—not even Max, Izzy, or Adam will drink it,” Michael answered.
Trevor and I are so much alike, Michael thought. Why can’t Max see that?
“The thing with Max …” Michael paused, not sure exactly what he wanted to say. “Max is practically like my brother. It’s just that, lately …” He shook his head. “I don’t know, since he went through his akino and joined the consciousness, he’s been changing. Sometimes it’s like he’s not even Max anymore.”
“Yeah, that happens a lot,” Trevor answered. “A lot of the beings come to the Kindred because they refused to join the consciousness. They didn’t want to lose their sense of self. You know, their identity.”
“Isn’t that basically the same as committing suicide?” Michael asked.
“You mean because you’ll die if you go through your akino without making the connection?” Trevor asked. He handed the canteen to Michael, and Michael shoved it back in the hole. “That’s bull,” Trevor continued, his voice rough with anger. “That’s what the consciousness wants you to think, but it’s complete bull.”
“No way,” Michael said. “I saw Max during his akino. He really almost died.” Michael still had nightmares where he was forced to attend Max’s funeral again and again.
“Do I look alive to you?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah, but—” Michael stared at Trevor. “Are you saying you’ve already gone through your akino?”
“You got it,” Trevor answered.
“Is there any way to break the connection?” Michael demanded. “Can Max?”
“The consciousness is too strong for an individual being to break free,” Trevor answered. “And I get the feeling that Max is so far along that he wouldn’t want to separate himself from the consciousness even if he could.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Michael reluctantly admitted. He shoved himself to his feet. “I’ve got to take off. I know it sounds stupid, but I don’t want to leave Adam alone too long. Can you think of anything else you might need?”
Trevor shook his head and stood up, too. “I’ve slept in much worse places, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll come by after school tomorrow with some more supplies, but I don’t think you’ll have to hole up here more than a few days,” Michael said. “I’m going to talk to Max and Alex and the others. I’m sure I’ll be able to convince them you’re not dangerous or anything.”
I don’t know how, he added to himself. But I’m going to do it. I’ve got to.
Trevor looked doubtful, but he didn’t say anything.
“So, uh, see you,” Michael said as he backed toward the mouth of the cave.
“Want me to heal your hand before you go?” Trevor volunteered. “Or do you want to keep walking around dripping blood?”
“I can do it myself,” Michael told him quickly.
If he and Trevor connected, Michael would be open to attack. Trevor could just grab a vein in his head and start squeezing.
But that wouldn’t happen—because Trevor isn’t a killer, Michael told himself. He strode forward and stretched his hand out to his brother.
“Actually, it would be easier if you did it for me.”
Liz felt fingers brushing her hair away from her face. I have to tell Adam to stop, she thought. But it felt so good. I’ll pretend I’m still asleep, she decided. Just for a few minutes more.
“What are you doing here, Liz?” a voice asked. Not Adam’s voice. Max’s voice.
Liz’s eyes snapped open, and she saw Max kneeling on the floor next to her. “What are you doing here?” he repeated.
She sat up, Adam’s air mattress squeaking under her. He’d insisted that she take it while he slept on the floor. She glanced across the room. He wasn’t there now.
“What are you doing here?” Max asked again.
What was wrong with him? He was like a talking doll that someone had stepped on so many times it could say only one thing. “If you’d called me last night the way you were supposed to, you’d know,” Liz snapped.
An expression that was part hurt and part guilt flashed across Max’s face. “I was going to, but then the consciousness—”
“The consciousness,” Liz cut him off. “Of course, the consciousness.”
Max stood up and took a step away from her. “I actually came by because I need to talk to Michael,” he said, pulling a painfully obvious subject change.
“Michael and Trevor never made it back last night,” Liz told him. She felt a little pang as she realized she’d been so caught up in her own garbage, she’d almost forgotten about them. “I heard about what happened,” she added, her voice softening.
“Yeah, so it wasn’t just because of the consciousness that I didn’t call,” Max said, leaping on the excuse in what Liz considered pure weasel fashion. “After Alex came and told me that he thought Trevor could be dangerous, things kind of got out of control.”
Liz nodded. “I get that,” she said. She stood up. She was tired of talking to Max with him towering over her. “And if last night was a one-time thing, it would be no big deal—even though I really needed you.”
“Why? What happened?” he asked. His eyes flicked up and down her. “Whoa. Your aura is really in chaos.”
Is it just Max looking at me right now? Or is it all the beings? Liz wondered, a prickling, tickling sensation running from the top of her neck all the way down her spine.
“There was a time when you would have noticed that the first second you saw me,” she told Max. She pulled down on the hem of Adam’s T-shirt, which she’d been using as a nightgown. Suddenly it felt too short.
“Liz, cut me a break,” Max shot back, his voice
taking on a steely edge. “There’s a guy who could be a killer wandering around loose. And not just a guy—Michael’s brother.”
“No, that’s way too easy. You know that’s not what’s really going on between us,” Liz insisted. She snagged the Star Wars comforter off the air mattress and wrapped it tightly around her waist.
“I’d like to hear what you think is going on between us,” Max said, his voice faintly patronizing. In another second he’s going to be asking me if I’m PMS-ing, Liz thought.
“God, Max, I can’t even kiss you anymore without you drifting away to the consciousness,” she burst out. “Do you know how disgusting that feels? To be kissing someone and then feel their lips get all loose and dead?”
As opposed to Adam’s lips, so eager, so warm. Liz shoved that thought away.
“Disgusting,” Max repeated. In a flash he had her face cupped between his hands. His eyes bored into hers, then shifted down to her lips.
He’s going to try to kiss me, Liz thought with a spurt of panic.
“Yeah, completely disgusting,” Liz answered. She reached out and put her fingers on his lips, gently but firmly. “Because it wasn’t you.”
Max pulled her hand away and backed up. “Disgusting,” he repeated again. “So, what are you really saying? Are you saying you don’t want to be with me?”
“I want to be with you, Max. But you’re not you anymore,” Liz cried.
Max’s brilliant blue eyes got a blank, shuttered look. “So you’re breaking up with me?”
Liz felt that ripping, tearing sensation again, just the way she had last night with her parents.
Is there going to be anything left of me? she thought.
But she couldn’t pretend that things were the same between her and Max. She couldn’t pretend he was still the one she’d fallen in love with, the one she’d loved heart, and soul, and body.
That Max was gone.
“Are you breaking up with me?” Max repeated, voice dead.
How could he expect her to speak? How with this gaping, raw wound inside her?
Liz nodded. And Max turned and walked away.
