Accused (Ganzfield) (11 page)

“Yeah.” Rachel shrugged. “She decided to stay on, now that her residency’s over. She says it’s because she can openly use her ability here, but I think she just likes using me as a lab rat.”

Trevor carried the charred remains of the bedding past the door and off the porch outside.

“So, it’s a girl, you know.” Rachel sounded dissatisfied.

A girl? Really?

“Heather and Matilda are sure.”

But you aren’t.

“I was… I just really felt it was a boy.”

Yeah, I know.

She snorted. “I guess you do. I hate not being able to RV stuff. I feel stupid and useless and half-blind, you know?”

Yeah. I was off the meds for the past couple months, too.

“You all right?”

I am now—but I wasn’t. It was bad. I don’t want to talk about it, though. Okay?

“Okay.” Rachel knew what I meant. She’d survived some pretty horrible things, too, so she didn’t push. “So, tell me, what’s really going on with the Feds by the front gate? The rumors are all over the place and only you minders seem to know what’s really going on.”

Two guys are in charge of two different groups out there.
I didn’t want to worry her too much, but I knew she’d want the straight, no-holds-barred version.
One of them’s military, and he wants to capture or destroy all of us. He’s the one who… who had me detained. The other’s with the FBI or ATF or DOD or Homeland Security or something. He’s just watching us for now. We don’t know who he is or what he wants. But he outranks the other guy and he’s prevented the one who wants to destroy us from coming in this long, so we’re okay for now, we think.

Rachel nodded, processing that.

So, what’re you going to name her?

“The baby?” The subject change surprised her. “I was so sure she was a he. It was really easy that way, since Sean—” Dirt-colored sadness coiled around her as she paused for a distracted moment. It’d been seven months since he’d died on the rescue mission in which I’d lost my voice. “The McFees always name their oldest sons after their fathers.” She looked up, trying to keep from crying. Not having a little boy to name after his father took something more from her.

“Maybe… “

No. No way.

“What?”

Not that. Pick another name.

“What’s wrong with Shawna? It’s like Sean, but for a girl.”

Rachel, it’s a stripper name!

She laughed, shocked out of her sadness. “I can’t believe you said that! It’s
not
a stripper name!”

Stripper name. Completely.
We were both cracking up when Heather walked in, pulling her red hair back into a ponytail.

Heather? Quick question: someone named Shawna—doctor or stripper?

“Stripper.” Heather didn’t miss a beat.

“Maddie, you don’t get a say in what I name her!”

That’s too bad. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t give her a stripper name.

“It’s not a stripper name! It’s pretty!”

Okay, so it’s a pretty stripper name.

Rachel was holding her pregnant belly—the ligaments or something on her sides hurt when she laughed.

Then the paper sheet on the exam table caught fire.

“Whoa!” Heather slammed a metal instrument tray down on the flames. Rachel scooted up and away from the burst of flames. My jaw hit my chest. None of us were laughing anymore.

My expression frightened Rachel even more than the sudden fire. “Maddie?”

Oh, crap! Rachel, the baby… the baby did that!
I’d felt her little mind react. She’d been jostled by all the laughter, and then something kinda flared within her, just like in the sparks when they used their ability.

This kid might give new meaning to the terrible twos.

Maddie? What’s wrong?
Trevor had dropped everything when he’d felt the anxious spike in my emotions.

We’re okay. But… can you find Drew and bring him here right away? We have a fire issue with the baby.

“FIRE issue?”
He took off fast toward the lake to find Drew.

“Rachel? Rachel, calm down.” Heather had her hands on Rachel’s arms.

Rachel couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs. “No! We don’t have abilities as BABIES! That’s not how it works! I can’t… I can’t take care of a spark baby!”
Oh, my God.
“How am I going to take care of a spark baby?”

Rachel. RACHEL! Calm down! We can figure this out. We can find a way for this to work.
Personally, I had nothing. But Rachel had a huge problem. A fire-starting baby? Wasn’t there a Stephen King book or movie or something based on that?

Drew would know.

She is so screwed.
Heather’s hand wrapped around Rachel’s wrist and monitored her racing pulse. “Rachel, you’re hyperventilating. I need you to try to slow your breathing.”

I suddenly flashed back to Drew’s reaction when he’d found out that Rachel was pregnant. It was just after we’d returned from Allexor in New Jersey. Rachel had joined us in the dining hall the next morning, feeling lost and useless without her ability.

Hey, it looks like Rachel’s put on a little weight. She’s still hot, though.

Rachel had caught his visual appraisal and her eyes had gone cold. “You think I look fat, don’t you?”

Drew recognized a minefield when he’d walked into one. “What? I—I wasn’t—No! Of course not!”

“Maddie, tell me. What did he think?”

I raised my hands defensively.
Hey! Why am I being put in the middle of this?

Her chin had risen in defiance as she stared him down. “I’m not getting fat. I’m pregnant.”
He’ll probably just say something thoughtless or make a dirty joke
.

Drew opened and closed his mouth twice, but no sound came out.
That explains the super-hormonal stuff. Aw, crap. She’s having Sean’s kid! This has gotta be hell for her.
He put a thick arm around her shoulders. “Well, I guess that makes you one of the family now.”

Rachel had started to cry.

Tears? Not tears!
His eyes went wide as he searched for an escape route.
Geez! Just shoot at me or something! I know how to stop that!

Trevor and Drew arrived faster than I would’ve imagined. I started briefing them as soon as they got in range.
The baby’s an active spark, even without dodecamine.
I guess now we know how the drug affected fetal development. Yikes!
We need to calm Rachel down, and then get her fire-proofed somehow.

Drew seemed to fill the room as he banged open the door. “Rach? You okay?”

“No.” She’d drawn into herself, biting her lip and hugging her arms across her belly as she rocked on the table.
Can my life suck any more right now?

“So, Maddie says the kid’s taking after her dad?”

Rachel’s eyes flashed to me. “What did you tell them?”
This is my private life you’re throwing out to everyone!

Just that the kid’s already a spark. Sorry. I should’ve asked first, but it seemed a little urgent.

As if to prove my point, a flame shot up from the cotton ball dispenser. Drew glanced at it and it died.

Look, Rachel, you’re going to need to hang around with at least one spark for the next couple of months. Probably day and night.

“There’s plenty of space down with the rest of us,” said Drew. “We could put you in with Ellen or Mel—neither has a roommate anymore. Maybe we can take shifts or something, the way we do for sleeping on missions, to prevent accidental flare-ups.”

“Rachel? Can I take a quick blood sample?” Heather frowned in concentration—her McFee standard-issue freckles seemed to stand out more strongly against her pale skin.
I have a theory I want to test.

My jaw dropped.
Really? You think the baby might be naturally producing dodecamine?

Trevor’s eyes went wide. “Is that possible?”

“That’s what I want to check,” said Heather.

“So I’m going to need a spark babysitter twenty-four-seven?” Rachel’s voice had gone icy. The fear was gone—she felt more in control when she was angry.
I’m not going to get a moment’s privacy for what? Months?

“And your kid will need one for the next dozen years or so,” Drew said. “Whoa, a spark baby. Intense.”

At least you can teach her to play Fireball.

“Excellent.” Drew was already rolling with the new development.

“Rachel can have my place.” Ellen started stripping the bed. “I can double up with Katie. She won’t mind.” She glanced at me and pinked up. I hadn’t known they were a couple, and it seemed none of her cousins knew, either.

Don’t ask, don’t tell.

“Good idea.” Drew shepherded Rachel through the collection of cousins. “Rachel’s going to need someone awake with her at all times. After the baby’s born, she’ll need the extra space, too.”

Trevor carried her belongings down to the locker outside the little cinderblock building that would be her new home. “Most of this stuff is flammable, Rachel. It probably needs to stay outside when you’re not using it.”

I bit my lip; this was a fairly permanent move for Rachel. She and her daughter would pretty much need to stay here for years—at least until the baby grew up enough to control her ability.

Rachel paced the floor of her new home like a tiger in a cage.
This is SO UNFAIR.
By the time she’d gotten down to the new house, her pelvis hurt from the baby’s weight and she desperately needed to pee.

Gah.
Being in her mind was like a Public Service Announcement for birth control. If this was what pregnancy was like, why would any woman have a second child? First child, I guess I could understand—babies were cute and most women wanted one at some point. But the first-timers didn’t know what they were getting into. Once someone had been through it, though, she had no excuse. Maybe there was some sort of hormonally-induced amnesia involved in the process.

Trevor cracked up and reached for my hand.
I take it we’re not going to be starting a family any time soon?

I leaned against him and closed my eyes.
I’m pretty sure reading Rachel’s mind has withered whatever maternal instincts I may’ve had.

Maddie, you’re exhausted.
Trevor’s concern wrapped around me, along with his arms. Until Trevor mentioned it, I hadn’t noticed how tired I was. I guess I hadn’t recovered physically, yet. He looked at the others. “I’m taking Maddie home.”

We left as Drew and Ellen argued over how to set up the watch schedule.

I took what I thought would be a quick nap. When I woke up, it was dark. Trevor vaulted up to my loft when he sensed I was awake.

Hungry?

Oh, yeah.

He’d brought back dinner for us while I’d been asleep; it was still warm. The sharp scents nearly made me drool. I savored the little chunks of veggies in the marinara sauce that enveloped the bow-tie pasta. The flavors and textures played a symphony in my mouth. Trevor always had a big appetite, since his ability burned thousands of calories every day. I usually tried to eat small portions—I didn’t want to put on weight like my mom had. But now, I was ravenous. Food was more than fuel—it was edible freedom.

I opened my eyes after reveling in the tang of garlic butter on a slice of thick-crusted bread. Trevor watched me, nearly laughing out loud. I could feel how much happiness he got from my joy, and his pleasure made me happier. A feedback loop of delight built between us.

Dessert?

The simple cups of chocolate pudding each had a dollop of whipped cream on them. They were standard-issue dining hall desserts—I’d never bothered to have one before tonight. Trevor held out a spoonful to me and suddenly pudding became… sexy. I held his gaze as I took the spoon between my lips and removed the pudding with a slow move of my tongue.

Trevor flared with red energy as he watched.
Is this okay?
His concern played against his lust, trying to figure out what was best for me.

I nodded to him, picked up the other spoon and leaned in to give him a bite, getting a little smudge of chocolate on the side of his face as I did so. I kissed it off. An invisible finger brought another pudding blob to my mouth, deliberately smearing some across my lower lip. Soon we were laughing and kissing and getting pudding everywhere.

We connected as pure energy, igniting together in a beautiful explosion. The sense of wholeness—of peace and joy—filled us both.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,
I told him.

Trevor kissed me tenderly, sending such intense waves of love to me that I felt like my heart would burst. We drifted in mentally connected bliss until I fell back to sleep.

CHAPTER 7

“Still under house arrest.” Trevor normally didn’t mind staying behind the walls of Ganzfield, but now he had a goal.

I wrinkled my nose.
Beats the other kind.
Besides, the whole marriage thing was on hold. Coleman still had my emancipation documents—the ones we would need to do grown-up things like get married—or be tried as an adult—and Coleman was in the Cayman Islands right now. My paperwork was no longer in his office and my accounts were still frozen, since my lawyer was no longer around to make a fuss about things like that. I sighed.

I sat up in my loft with my back against the wall and went online.
Hey, Trevor. Did you know there are actually fireproof cribs?
I ordered one to be custom-made and delivered. At least my Visa card still worked—Williamson had taken care of it while I was gone.

With each passing day, life had begun to feel more normal. We did laundry, finding the chocolate pudding stains to be rather difficult to remove. I started to lose that scary, hollow look in my cheeks, although most of my clothes still hung too-large on my frame. The thoughts of the people in the dining hall barely registered our entrance anymore.