by Andrea Ring
I gasp. “But…but my genetic engineering didn’t work on him. He said it didn’t work. How?”
“It did work,” Dacey says. “You only infused about half the brain with the new DNA, but it was enough for Tyrion to work with. He kept it from us.”
“But…why?” I stammer.
“He says…he didn’t want to be at the Attic where everyone knew he was unnatural. He wanted to get out and find his own place in the world.”
“Yeah, and he wanted to conduct illegal research, and he knew you and Dad would never allow it.”
“Maybe,” Dacey says. “Look, I know we can’t put anything past him at this point, but I get the feeling he didn’t have some grand master plan. I think he was winging it pretty hard. He says Morula does not know he is a Dweller, but when he started to make progress, they gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted. I don’t know if that changes anything, but I don’t think he planned this from the beginning. I think it evolved.”
I rub my temples. “I should be there in about an hour. Do you have a plan for him?”
“Not really,” Dacey admits. “I’ve got him in a locked isolation room, even though he’s made no attempt to escape. He’s cooperating. That’s something, at least.”
“Do you know where the babies are?” I ask him.
“No,” he says. “No one will tell me. But I would like to see them.”
“Me, too. Okay, we’ll figure everything out when I get there. See you in an hour.”
*
I call Dad.
No news.
For the rest of the hour, I try—one call after the other—to get a hold of Jack.
No answer.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“My position has not changed,” Tyrion says stubbornly. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
“Then you must promise not to do this kind of research, regardless,” Dacey says. “I cannot let you run loose like some demented mad scientist, knocking people over the head and chaining them to a bed in a lab. Every person has free will, Tyrion. You cannot trample that for the greater good.”
Tyrion just sighs.
“What about this?” I say. “What if I strapped you to the bed right now and said I’m going to experiment on you for the rest of your life? You’ll never leave here again, and you have no say in what procedures I put you through.”
“If it will save lives,” Tyrion says, “fine. I do not believe my life is my own. I believe we are put on this earth for a greater purpose. Who am I to say what that purpose is?”
“How can you say your life is not your own?” I ask.
“Did I ask to be created? No, I did not. Did I ask to have my own body? No, I did not. In fact, I insisted that Dacey end my life. He ignored my wishes every step of the way. I am still under his guardianship. I have never had a say at any point in my life!”
I glance at Dacey. He looks away.
“I’m sorry, Tyrion,” he whispers.
“I am not blaming you,” Tyrion says. “I believe that all of this, every step, has been God’s plan. We are all too close to it, too invested in our own lives, to see the big picture. Only God has that view.”
“But God allows for free will,” I say. “Yes, we can choose evil, but that doesn’t mean it’s God’s plan for us to do evil.”
“I do not believe in free will,” Tyrion says.
“Only because you do not want to be held responsible for your actions,” Dacey says.
Tyrion looks indignant at that. “Really? You think I do not want credit for bringing back Thomas’s abilities? You think I cannot take responsibility? You are wrong. I stand behind my research. I say that I did these things proudly.”
“Do you think God doesn’t care about the lives of those babies?” I say.
“He does,” Tyrion says. “That is why the babies were treated with love and respect.”
“Love, maybe,” I say. “I saw you kiss that one baby. But respect? How is treating a human being like a lab specimen treating him with respect?”
“They were not harmed, were kept clean and well-fed, and I hold them all as precious. How is that not giving them respect?”
“So you’d do this again?” Dacey asks.
Tyrion hesitates. “No.”
“No?” I say.
“No,” he says. “I would go about it in a different way. I would grow the cells but not an entire human being. I have the knowledge now. There is no need…” Tyrion trails off and looks away.
“You thought of a need,” Dacey says.
Tyrion keeps his face turned from us. “Do you know why I started down this path of research?”
“No,” Dacey says.
“I wanted a companion. I wanted someone grown in a lab just like me. Someone without a soul but who yearns for one. Someone without a past. Someone…who understands.”
A tear slides down Dacey’s cheek.
“What about Jack?” I ask without thinking. I wasn’t planning on bringing her up with Tyrion at all. In fact, I wanted to avoid the subject of their relationship altogether. And now that I’ve thought of Jack, panic rises in my chest and I have to suppress the fear that courses through me.
“Do not…I cannot speak about Jack. You do not have to fear my relationship with her. I am sure she will end it when she returns.”
I feel a stab of sympathy for both of them, and Tyrion turns his head to me. “You are scared, yet you are sad for her.”
I frown at him. “Yeah, I guess I am. She has feelings for you. This will be difficult.” I study Tyrion’s face. “How did you know I felt that way?”
“I am an empath,” he says. “It is one of the extra abilities I have developed. I sense the emotions of people I am connected to. Actually, you have a bit of this ability as well.”
I blink. “I do?”
Tyrion nods. “I believe you sense pain. Have you never experienced this?”
I think about the time Dr. Rumson had a heart attack—I had a splitting headache and the urge to see him leading up to it. And when I was working to heal Olivia Brooks, there was a day when her blood pressure dropped and she almost died. I got a headache then, too.
I try to actively use this ability to sense if Jack’s in pain, but I get nothing.
“Can you sense Jack?” I ask Tyrion.
“I do not wish to speak about Jack.”
I grab Tyrion’s shoulder and shake him. “She might be in danger! Can you sense her?”
“Why do you believe she is in danger?”
“We think she befriended the killer and we can’t get a hold of her. Tyrion, try!”
He comes off the bed. “Why did you not tell me this earlier? Jack is friends with the killer?”
“I wasn’t going to speak to you about her at all,” I say, “but if you can sense her, please. Please tell us if she’s okay.”
Tyrion closes his eyes. “She seems fine. Maybe a little nervous, but that is to be expected with her assignment.”
“Where is she?” I scream.
Tyrion’s eyes fly open. “I am an empath, not a mind reader. I have no idea.”
“At least she’s alive,” I say, whipping my phone out. I call Dad and relay the information Tyrion gave me. He asks that Tyrion keep in touch with her and let us know if anything changes. Tyrion agrees.
“What else can I do?” he asks. “I must go to her.”
“No,” Dacey says. “You’re not leaving.”
“I will return!” Tyrion bellows. “You know I will. I cannot sit her while the woman I love is in danger!”
“So you finally know how it feels,” Dacey says. Tyrion’s eyes burn with anger.
I step between them. “This isn’t helping. My dad’s on the way to help Jack. The police are looking for her. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe Jack’s just fine.”
“You just said she befriended the killer!” Tyrion screams. “Which is it?”
“I don’t know!” I yell back. “Jack told me she cleared this guy because his soul i
s similar to Dad’s—but mostly purple with ribbons of gold. After I made the connection, I assumed this combination would indicate a lack of conscience. You know, practicality fueled by righteousness. In fact, I imagine this is what your soul would look like, and maybe Jack felt some kind of connection to this guy for the same reasons she’s attracted to you. Do you think I’m wrong?”
Tyrion plops back down on his bed. “I have a conscience.”
Dacey glances at me and I shrug.
“I have a highly developed conscience,” Tyrion continues. “I just value the whole over the individual. But that does not mean I do not care or do not feel regret.”
“So does this guy’s soul give us any real clues?” Dacey asks him.
Tyrion stands and nods. “I believe he may be the killer. If he is like me, he may have thought murder was justified. I could see myself committing murder if I thought other lives would be saved.”
I shiver.
“You’re not helping your case,” Dacey says.
“I have no case to make,” Tyrion says. “I do not care what happens to me. I care about others. And right now, I care about Jack.” He heads for the door. I don’t move, but Dacey steps in front of him.
“I can’t let you go, Tyrion,” Dacey says.
“I am not asking your permission. Shoot me or step aside.”
They stare each other down.
Dacey moves out of the way.
And Tyrion walks out.
***
“What should we do?” I ask Dacey.
Dacey sighs. “We can follow him, or we can let him go.”
“I can’t go,” I say. “Tessa’s already suffering nerve damage…I…I have to stay.”
Dacey puts a hand on my shoulder. “Tyrion will only resent me further if I try to stop him. I will help you.”
***
I call Dad and give him the lowdown on Tyrion. He doesn’t say much, just that he will call Tyrion himself and try to coordinate with him for additional help.
If Tyrion can help Jack, I will put my feelings for him aside.
Actually, I’m not sure how I feel about him now. I don’t agree with him, but he wasn’t speaking nonsense—he had some reasoned arguments.
And that thought is a little bit scary.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dacey agrees to follow me back up to Orange County to the Planarian Institute. We talk on the phone on the drive up, and I fill him in on the details of my research.
“You need the immune suppression drug for the mass market,” he says. “But I wonder if you could just hook up to Tessa and alter her immune system permanently using your abilities. Why bother with the drug for her?”
“She won’t let me hook up to her,” I say. “She knows that every time I use my abilities, I shorten my life span. She’ll never agree to it.”
“Ah,” he says. “Right. Well, we’ll work on it. You seem to be close to finishing it.”
I blow out a loud breath. “I am, but the immune system has to be suppressed first in order for it to be altered. It’s a Catch-22—have to suppress it to alter it, can’t suppress it without altering it. And I haven’t found a sufficient way to suppress it initially. I may have to hook up to her one way or the other.”
“You can use radiation,” Dacey says. “Kill the immune system, then build it back.”
“What if I can’t build it back?” I say. “What if she picks up a stupid cold virus and it kills her because her body has no defense? No, I can’t go that route.”
Dacey is silent for several moments.
“You’ll have to hook up to her,” he finally says. “You have to convince her.”
“I won’t be able to convince her,” I say. “I already know that.”
“You’re prepared to force her?”
I think about that. “I don’t know yet,” I say honestly.
***
We get to the Planarian Institute after lunch. Kate and Kenneth are out, and when I call them, they tell me they are visiting with their new nephew and will be back in a bit.
I show Dacey around the lab, and we go over the immune suppression drug and what still needs to be done. I go to my office to grab my laptop, and Ahhh! A sharp pain stabs my right eyeball and I fall to my knees. The laptop tumbles from my hands and the screen shatters.
“Thomas!” Dacey rushes to my side and kneels next to me. “What is it?”
“My…I…” I cannot form a sentence around the pain. I try to shut down the nerve signals, but I can’t think clearly enough to do it. “Em. Em…Tessa’s niece. Something’s happened.” I grit my teeth and struggle to climb to my feet, Dacey pulling me up beside him.
“She’s in pain?”
“Yes. Oh, God.” I gently push Dacey away to try to stand on my own, but I sway. Dacey grips my arm.
“You cannot drive. I’ll drive you. Do you need to call someone?”
“Sam…I don’t have his number. Erica. Call Erica.”
Dacey fishes my phone out of my pocket and scrolls through the numbers to find Erica. I hobble on his arm as we make our way out to his car.
“She’s not answering,” he says.
I take a couple of deep breaths. “Let’s just go.”
“Where are we going?” he asks.
“My dad’s house.”
***
My headache intensifies as we drive. I’m able to suppress the nausea it induces, but nothing I do will get the headache to go away. I can barely open my eyes to see.
Dacey tries to help me out of the car when we pull up in front of the house, but I’m nearly incapacitated. I wave him off. “Just go. Go! Check on her!” I yell.
Dacey rushes into the house.
I stagger up the porch and into the house twenty paces behind him.
“Thomas!” Dacey yells.
I find them in the kitchen. Dacey is holding Em, and Erica is passed out on the floor. I crawl to her and lean a cheek over her face. She’s breathing.
Dacey has placed Em on the floor and is giving her mouth-to-mouth. “She’s not breathing?” I say.
“No,” he says between breaths. “And she’s bleeding from a head wound. Looks like Erica dropped her.”
“God, no,” I whisper. “I’ll…I’ll hook up to her. I’ll fix it.” I roll to my side and try to get the knife out of my pocket, but I can’t even make my hand work properly. I finally pull the knife out, and it drops to the floor with a clatter.
“I’ll do it,” Dacey says, and he snatches the knife before I can protest. He flicks it open and slashes his palm. He makes a smaller cut on Em’s hand and presses the wounds together.
“You’re not fast enough,” I say. “Let me. I can do it.”
“Shut up,” Dacey snaps. He closes his eyes and concentrates.
Please breathe, please breathe, please breathe, I think. Oh please God, let her breathe.
Em’s chest rises. She expels a breath and has a coughing fit.
“You’re doing it!” I yell.
Dacey frowns, his eyes still closed. “She’s hemorrhaging badly. I can’t…I have to fix the bleed before I can fix the breathing. She’s only breathing because I’m here.”
“Can you do it?”
He nods. I concentrate on trying to get rid of the pain so I can actually help.
About ten minutes in, Erica starts to come around, but her body twitches and she’s incoherent. I suspect a seizure brought on by Huntington’s. I need to hook up to her and mitigate the damage, but it’s all I can do not pass out myself—I’m suddenly feeling Erica’s pain, as well.
“It’s done,” Dacey whispers, and as he says this, my headache lessens, just a bit. “Just have to…clear the blood…and…make sure she’s breathing on…on her own.”
I raise my head in alarm at the weariness in Dacey’s voice. “Back out, Dacey,” I say. “I’m calling 911. You’ve done enough.” I grope for the phone where it fell from Dacey’s pocket and dial.
“Almost,” he says.
&
nbsp; I give 911 the info and click off. Gradually, my headache recedes to a manageable throb.
“Is she breathing?” he asks.
I place a hand gently on Em’s chest. “Yes. Back out now!”
Dacey backs out, heals their hands, and collapses on the floor beside Emmaleth.
Chapter Thirty
“Will she wake up?”
My arms are wrapped around Tessa from behind, and I rest my chin on her shoulder. “Not without help.”
Tessa turns to me, her eyes swollen and tear-filled. “How do we get her released?”
“Sam and Dad have medical power of attorney,” I say. “Since Dad’s gone, Sam’ll have to ask the doctors to release her. There’s paperwork, but we’ll make it happen.”
“Can you fix her?”
I stare at Erica, so still in the hospital bed, while Tessa stares at me. “Yes. But only on one condition.”
Tessa gapes at me. “What?”
“I’ll heal her if you let me heal you.”
Tessa’s eyes bore into mine. A tear slides down her cheek, but she doesn’t blink. “You operate on her, you operate on me, and then we’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again.”
A scream builds in my throat, but I swallow it.
I open my mouth to protest, to talk some sense into her, but I’ve already said the worst thing imaginable, already given Tessa a choice that isn’t a choice. I just took away her free will with one carefully thought out, though ill-considered, condition.
And I can’t take it back. I won’t take it back.
I nod.
Chapter Thirty-One
“We found her!” Dad says, and his voice is gruff with emotion. “She’s okay. I’m heading back down now. Tyrion is going to stay with her until she finishes up.”
I rise with an embarrassing squeak from the vinyl-coated chair in the waiting room. “Where the hell was she?”
“She drove out to Oakland to have dinner with a friend and her car broke down and her phone died. She left messages at the precinct from a public phone but the right people didn’t get them. There’s more to it, but I’ll let her tell you.”
“Why are you leaving her with Tyrion?”
