“Julie,” he whispers, stroking her cheek, his thoughts whirling about in a tempest of fear. A glance in the living room shows him that the Brewer clan and the old woman are lost in the same spell as Julie—the kids sprawled in front of their board game, Heather and Mrs. Summers on the sofa, Paul standing near the kitchen. By Paul’s feet, a glass lies shattered, reflecting light like diamonds.
Garth tries to lead Julie back into the bedroom, but her feet don’t cooperate. Snarling with frustration, he leaps toward his nightstand and grabs the phone, punches in nine-one-one.
And promptly gets a busy signal.
“Fuck!” He tries again. And again. He wants to go out into the living room, wants to run, wants to hit and hurt and scream. Instead he keeps trying the emergency line.
It’s almost twenty minutes before he gets through.
It’s nearly an hour after that before EMTs arrive. They’re able to walk through the living room without turning into statues. When Garth, too, steps into the living room, he’s fine. Either they are all immune, or whatever had happened had passed. But Julie and the others are still lost, their eyes solid white. The kids are smiling. Garth thinks that’s a blessing; whatever they’re seeing, they’re happy.
“It’s happening all over the grid,” one of the men tells Garth as the team works to check Julie’s vitals, to examine the Brewers and Mrs. Summers. Maybe he thinks he’s comforting Garth by letting him know he’s not alone. “People are just staring off,” he says, “nonresponsive, like they’re drugged. They’re calling Looptown ‘Zombietown.’”
The team loads the kids and the parents and the old woman onto their floating stretchers and hauls them out the door. Garth is told pointedly not to come. “Too crowded,” they tell him. “Patients only. Call for their status later.” Julie and the others are whisked off to New Chicago Medical Center, and the door closes in Garth’s face.
He is too stunned for it to register that he hadn’t even kissed Julie good-bye.
CHAPTER 18
VIXEN
Adult subjects are unsuitable for replicating the research conducted on 1102. No money. No test subjects. Grants are thin on the ground for a study with only one verifiable instance of success. But I saw it. I heard him in my mind. I saw what he showed me. If going to the corporate sector means seeing that again … so be it.
—Matthew Icarus, diary entry dated 1985
Valerie propped herself on her elbow. “So what happened next?”
Lester folded his arms behind his head. Valerie didn’t miss the taut muscles that swam beneath his skin, his head dappled with dark hair. “Why, then we followed the Chaos Brothers to their hideout, where we surveilled them.”
“And that takes a while, right?” Valerie traced a finger over Lester’s pectorals. She liked embellishing their cover story. It was like battle-scenario training back at her Academy.
“Oh, hours,” he said. “Possibly even all through the night.”
Valerie giggled, and Lester capitalized on the opportunity to pin her to the mattress and tickle her.
Valerie shrieked in delight, because no one could hear her. Not Ops, not Corp. She didn’t know how Lester had found this apartment—if it could even charitably be called an apartment. Peeling walls, stained ceiling, radiators, for Jehovah’s sake. But what neighbors there were in the building kept to themselves.
Here, she didn’t have to be Vixen. Here, she was Valerie. And he was Lester.
Of course, the story they’d give to Ops would include the Chaos Brothers.
“You think they’re going to figure it out?” Valerie said when her breath came back. “We’ve been doing an awful lot of surveillance these past six months.”
“Ops? Or the suits?”
“Either. Both.”
“Luv, they can’t find their arses with a GPS tracker.” He tapped her on the nose. “You worry too much.”
“Somebody has to worry for the both of us.” Valerie sat up, suddenly cold. She wrapped the sheet around herself. “We are lying to Corp, Les. There are going to be consequences.”
Lester’s mouth turned down. “You don’t like this? You’d rather we split up?”
“No. Damnit, Lester, I’m not saying that.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. It was living ink in the faulty light, and Valerie resisted the urge to move it out of his eyes. He said, “Then what, luv?”
Valerie bit her lip. “I don’t want to sneak around anymore. I love you, Les. I’m not worried about Corp.”
Silence, and Valerie could feel her heart thudding. Men had told her they loved her, twice. She’d never said it back. She wasn’t the honey that had bees swarming like Angelica was, not that she begrudged Holly the attention. She appreciated it when her friend took the brunt of the catcalls and press, really. Valerie would have taken some horny drunk’s head off long since if she’d had to put up with Angelica’s popularity.
The radiator clanked on, horribly loud in the still room.
Finally, Lester slid his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “All right, then,” he said. “Tomorrow morning. We’ll go to Extrahuman Resources and disclose our relationship. They’ll probably throw us a press conference and all. We’ll be terribly, terribly popular with the vids, me being so gorgeous and you being … well, you.”
The doorbell rang, and Valerie jumped, glad for the distraction. “That’s pizza.” She grabbed Lester’s undershirt and her own panties and dressed to get the door.
“Valentine.” That was the name he’d made up for her, after their first night together. Right around Valentine’s Day. She grinned from the memory. Only Lester could be that cheesy and get away with it.
“Yes, Les?”
“I love you too.”
CHAPTER 19
ANGELICA
Blackout has shown signs of decay. I want to decommission him, but Aaron claims to have a better solution.
—From the journal of Martin Moore, entry #70
Angelica, get your mind out of the clouds!”
Holly blinked, then frowned at her console. An ambulance was blaring about five hundred meters behind her, coming up fast. Other hovers had skittered to the right, getting safely out of the way. Muttering, Holly punched in commands, and the patrol car zoomed to the right. It didn’t matter that the ambulance could have jumped the currents over them; whether in the air or on the ground, there were road rules in effect. Sirens wailing? Move to the right. Fast.
“Jehovah, girl, where’s your brain been lately?”
Holly sighed as she flipped on the autocruiser, then she spun in her seat to face Vixen. “Look,” she said, “I’m sorry …”
“Button it.” Valerie leaned forward, her dark eyes glittering with anger. “You’ve been going through the motions, and now you almost caused a collision with an emergency vehicle.”
Holly bristled. “I said I’m sorry.”
“And what happened before with Mnemonic? You forget how to turn off your power? Or maybe you like blissing out your teammates?”
“Christo, it was an accident. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“I’m sorry,” Valerie said, mimicking her voice. “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Angelica. Not on Team Alpha.”
Holly bit back a scathing comment. Val was right. Damn it. She sighed, closed her eyes.
“Hols,” her partner said, softening her voice. “What’s wrong? You haven’t been yourself in … well, in weeks.”
How to tell Valerie that she’d been having trouble concentrating? No, she scolded herself, be honest with yourself at least. It’s worse than that. She’d start thinking about something, but just as it would start to take shape, her mind would slip and she’d be distracted, then she couldn’t remember what she’d been doing.
But if she said anything about it, she’d be sent to Dr. Moore for some of his unconventional therapy. And she’d be damned before she allowed that to happen. Her voice strained, she said, “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit on toast. I
t’s something, or you wouldn’t be so off your game.”
“Just not sleeping well.” And that was the truth. Holly couldn’t remember when the last time was she’d woken up feeling well rested.
“Everything okay with Hal?”
Hal.
Holly rolls over, a contented smile on her lips, and looks up at Hal. “That,” she purrs, “was amazing.”
He laughs softly, the sound doing incredible things to her way down low. “You were pretty amazing yourself.”
“Mmmm.” She stretches, working on a kink in her shoulder. The man was a fabulous lover, no question, but he could be a little rough in the heat of passion. Holly didn’t mind. She loved passion. “I’d love to stay, but I have a 6:00 A.M. patrol with Vixen.”
“It couldn’t have worked tonight anyway. I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Moore in about thirty. Have to get over to the Academy.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know how you can stand to work with the man. He’s so pushy.”
“He’s also my direct report.”
Even more reason why she would never volunteer to let Moore perform his tests on her—if he proved that her power was Mental and not Light, she’d be answerable to him. And that would be over her dead body. She’d seen the look of naked hunger in the doctor’s eyes more than once. It was the same look, she was sure, that had been in Frankenstein’s eyes as he researched how to create his Monster.
“Thank Jehovah I’m not a Mental power,” she mutters. “The man won’t get off my case about wanting to peek into my head and see what makes me tick.”
“He’s driven,” Hal says, stroking the curve of her waist. “I admire that sort of dedication.”
“You’re a good man, Hal Gibbons.”
“I’m a horny man, Holly Owens.” His hand dips lower, and Holly lets out an appreciative moan. “Stay just a few more minutes?”
“Mmm.”
“I love it when you do that,” he says. “When you close your eyes and just go with how you’re feeling. I want to etch your image in my mind.”
She laughs. “You’re such a romantic.”
“With you? Abso …” His voice trails off.
“Hal?” Holly opens her eyes and sees her lover staring off into space, his gaze unfocused. “Hal? Are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Hal,” she says again, firmly. When he doesn’t respond, she reaches over to touch his shoulder. “Hypnotic. What’s wrong?”
He blinks once, slowly, then turns his dark gaze to her. “Sorry,” he says, sounding strange and distracted, his voice creeping up Holly’s naked back. “Just lost in thought.”
Unconvinced, she says, “You sure?”
“Yes.” He looks her up and down, and he smiles. “I love touching your body,” he says, moving his hand up over the swell of her breast.
She arches into his touch, and her concern melts away.
There’s a pinch on her arm, quick and then it’s gone, replaced with Hal’s soft kisses along her arm, her shoulder, her neck. She doesn’t mind the pinch. Hal gets rough sometimes—pinching, biting, slapping. That’s what he needs, and Holly lets him be rough with her because she loves him.
His hands are on her again, moving rhythmically, soothingly, and Holly sighs, feeling warm and sleepy, and she lets her eyes drift closed.
She wakes up in her own bed the next morning, when Vixen is threatening to pour water over her head if she doesn’t get up to patrol with her. Holly moves at half speed, feels almost drunk. Valerie, laughing, shoves coffee under Holly’s nose. “Christo, if sleeping with Doctor Hypnotic is that good, maybe he should change his name to Doctor Love.”
Holly grins, still feeling dopey and rubber-limbed. Yeah, it was going to suck for her on patrol today. But after last night? Worth it.
“Hal’s good,” Holly said to Valerie.
“You didn’t get into a fight with him or anything?”
“No.” She forced herself to smile. “Really, I’m just not sleeping well.”
And since that last night with Hal, she’d been plagued with bad dreams, nightmare images that scattered when she tried to focus on them. What had it been, a week? Two? She didn’t know.
“Maybe you should get yourself checked out,” Valerie said skeptically.
Holly shuddered. Sure, she could go visit the Medical wing of the Squadron. But if this was something else, something psychological, Corp would force her to go to the Academy for an evaluation in the Mental wing. And that was something Holly would avoid at all costs. She would never be Dr. Moore’s plaything. Never.
“I’m fine,” she said, turning back to the console and taking the hover out of autodrive. “I just need a good night of sleep.”
“Maybe make an appointment with Hypnotic,” Valerie joked. “A night with him, you’ll be sleeping like a baby.”
“Yeah,” Holly said, and was surprised to feel her stomach lurch at the thought of being with Hal again. “Sure.”
Holly blinked, then looked over at Jamie. He was standing in front of her, his eyepiece projecting a green-tinged list in front of his face. Holly was seated at the vanity table in her room. She had a moment of dizziness, and she wondered why she’d been thinking of Dr. Moore, of all people. “Sorry,” she said to Jamie. “Were you saying something?”
Her Runner was frowning at her, worry lines on his face. “I was reviewing today’s schedule with you, and you just drifted off,” he said, sounding concerned. “You okay?”
She rubbed her head. “Yes, sorry. I’m just tired. Not sleeping well.”
Jamie nodded, understanding. “Maybe you should cut back on your late nights.”
She stared at him, waiting for the rest of the joke.
“What?” he said, a nervous smile playing on his face. “You’ve been going out every night. I have seen it.”
Her head started to pound, and she felt the blood drain from her face. “Oh,” she said, her voice sounding queer and strained. “Yes, I suppose I should.”
Jamie went over the day’s events—Glamique photo op at ten, a lunch event with New Chicago’s Grandes Dames at one, training exercises at four—and then he left her alone so that Holly could grab a shower before heading uptown to her sponsor’s headquarters.
Holly stayed in her chair.
Something’s wrong with me, she thought. Sleepwalking, now, on top of the bad dreams?
Shivering, she rubbed her arms and debated what to do. She knew she should suck it up and go to Mental, get checked out. But the thought of getting examined by Dr. Moore made her sick.
One more night, she told herself. If she woke up tomorrow still feeling distracted and exhausted, she’d call Moore. Getting up to start her day, Holly Owens sincerely hoped that she’d sleep well tonight.
Holly didn’t know where she was.
She stood ramrod straight, her mind cartwheeling, as she tried to analyze her situation. There was a man standing in front of her, but his features were blurred, as if her eyes couldn’t focus properly. He was a smear of color against a backdrop of white.
Had she been captured? Why couldn’t she remember—
“Yes,” a man’s voice said. “It’s time for you to take an interest in Blackout. He fancies you, and we need to keep him happy. You’ll do nicely, Angelica.”
Holly’s eyes widened.
Behind her, Dr. Aaron Moore continued, “You’ll have to make the first move, of course. He’s so painfully shy around you. You can do that, Angelica, can’t you? Kiss him, let him know you find him attractive, and let nature take its course?”
She spun to face him. “What the hell are you talking about? Where am I?”
His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, awake, are we? Interesting. Hal, would you, please?”
Hands pinned her arms by her sides.
She glared at Moore and reached inside herself to push Light into him, enough to turn his mind to putty …
… and then she screamed as every nerve ending lit in agony.
>
“Well, the conditioning works,” another man said. Holly heard that, even through the pain. “That’s good.”
“Indeed,” Moore replied. “That was the first command, even before the Corp branding. Self-preservation, little brother.”
“You’re only two minutes older.”
Corp? Holly thought, or tried to think, but then her brain caught fire.
Eventually, the pain ebbed, and Holly slumped in her captor’s arms. When she could speak, she whispered, “What have you done to me?”
A hand lifted her chin. Dr. Moore was peering into her eyes.
“Hmm? Oh, we’ve been doing all sorts of things, Angelica. My brother and I are turning you into the perfect Squadron soldier. You’ll be completely dedicated to Corp. And to me, of course.”
“There’s got to be a way to do this without relying on Hypnotic’s power,” the other man said. “And without tech. Something we can distill, distribute widely …”
“One thing at a time, Martin.” Dr. Moore smiled a toothy smile. “The tech is just the first step. Well, second step, now that we have both Hypnotic and Angelica under control.”
Angelica struggled, but the man holding her was huge, and Earth-power strong. “When I get out of here, I’ll tell the Executive Committee what you’re doing!”
Dr. Moore let out a tittering laugh. “Even if you did, they’d never believe you. I’m their dedicated chief scientist. Besides, you won’t remember any of this, so don’t worry your pretty little head.”
“You’re insane!”
“No need for insults. Martin, since she’s up, let’s give the earpiece a trial run, shall we?”
Holly stomped on her captor’s foot, and was rewarded with a masculine grunt of pain.
“Stop that, Angelica. Don’t take your frustration out on poor Hal,” Moore said. “It’s not his fault you woke up. You’re a stubborn thing, aren’t you?”
Hal?
“Ah, thank you, Martin.”
“If this works,” the other man, Martin, said, “you think Corp will give us a raise, based on all the money they’ll save not having the Runners lacing their food?”
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