Tainted Energy (The Energy Series Book 1) (8 page)

What I
wouldn't give for a little slice of normal.

I forgot
all about the heightened coloring of my face and hair until one of the guys
came jogging up and tried to hit on me. The kid, someone I've lived by my whole
life but never bothered to remember his name, stuttered over his tongue until
the words, "You look hot," came skipping out. I smiled, but otherwise
ignored him, as my trailer came into view. On the cement blocks, sat my dad
smoking a cigarette.

I forced
a smile. "Hey, Dad."

"You're
late." The shaking in his hands was twice as bad as yesterday. They barely
let him lift the cigarette to his cracked lips.

"Sorry..."
I said, swallowing. "A bunch of us hung out at the bus stop, talking for a
minute." I searched behind me for the boy and gave him a wave.

"You
look different." He took another hit, rocking. "Like a whore."

Oh,
no... "I–"

"Get
in the house and wipe that crap off your face." Pissed that he was sober,
I'm sure. Once he found the color wouldn't come off, he'd probably take it out
on me.

"I'm
not wearing makeup. I..."
Think
"…cut my hair this morning.
And my lips are chapped."

He
flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Don't be late again. We got to get
the house in order."

Damn.

Tarek

Dimension of Exemplar…

P
rivilege wasn't always a curse.

Lena would say that every time they
came to Shalen Cliff. Right before she leapt off the ledge. He'd bitch every
time she surfaced in the pool below. Examine her body for broken bones.

Exposure therapy, she called it.
Why fear death when they both knew death wasn't the end of life?

He stood at the edge of Shalen, not
really watching the water lap against the bank. Darkness never blanketed the
place, not with the blinking orbs littering the sky. Some were stars. Others
were the energy of Guides patrolling the dimension. The recon branch of the
Synod's authority. Privacy didn't exist here, no matter how hard he and Lena
liked to pretend. They were all under the government's microscope.

Tarek backed away from the ledge,
never a fan of heights. Like Lena said, there was nothing to fear. The Synod
would just recycle him again if he slipped, broke his neck. Let him have
another round of hell in Exemplar. Give him back all the memories he wanted to
forget–and cling to. But a slip would be bad, seeing as he was
this
close
to Lena again.

He even
managed to scrub the crud off his body, detangle his hair...shave for the first
time in weeks. Wouldn't want to smell like a toilet and make a bad first
impression on the woman he loved. Well, it'd be the fourth first impression,
but who was counting?

If the
Synod found out, it'd probably be his last.

He
checked his communicator for the thousandth time. No message.

Shit.

If
Mateusz didn't come through, he'd go to Earth anyway, try to find her. He
promised.

Memories
weighted his shoulders, pushing him onto the soft grass. She thought Shalen was
the one place where being an Exemplian had its advantages. A slice of reality,
she'd called it. Real life without real-life consequences.

The
place where the authority snatched her away.

He could
still feel the overwhelming static in his head when the trees came alive with
at least fifty Protectors, their weapons aimed at her–

No. No
memories. Not when she had been given back to him. They couldn't take that
away, the privileged assholes.

Privilege. Stupid word. Wrong
description.

Being Exemplian just meant they
were advanced enough to play God. Classified as Guides or Protectors, the
labels were too docile for what they did to the universe.

Lena was a Guide. She called herself
a soul-stealer, always saying, "How else would you describe a person whose
job description involved robbing other dimensions of their most valuable
resource?"

Life.

As a Protector, he had the ability
to guard and transport Guides so they could do just that–steal life.

Synod elders said it was an
Exemplian right, a duty. Only, no one could ask questions while doing it.

Lena liked asking questions.

Too many
questions.

Questions
that pissed somebody off enough to frame her.

Questions
that stole her away from him.

No
matter what any of the bastards said, he didn't believe Lena would do anything
to risk a Tainted. Being marked a traitor was the worst punishment the Synod
could hand down, and she'd never chance leaving him forever. Guess that wasn't
a good enough argument because the Synod took her no matter how much he begged–on
his knees.

If only
she would've trusted him enough to share before they took her.

If only
he were still her Protector. He would've had the right to follow her.

If
only…

If
only…

He lay
back, staring at the blinking lights, wishing he'd brought his taser. Good
target practice. Arms up and fingers pointed, he aimed at the invasive lights
with imaginary fire. Guides couldn't be killed in their energy form, but a
clean shot would hurt like hell.

Mateusz
had one more hour before–

Blip

The
communicator vibrated in his pocket, and he all but ripped his pants yanking it
out. Tarek jumped to his feet as he pressed the blinking indicator. Mateusz's
hologram projected onto the nearest tree. "What the hell took you so long?"

Mateusz's
image scattered and formed again, the signal not so great here in the middle of
nowhere. The dim light and crap signal didn't hide how pale and drawn his face
appeared. "She was awarded the Guide. You have a month."

"Hey,
are you okay?"

"Fine.
There's just been some… The coordinates were sent to your secured line. Erase
the trail before you go."

Tarek
stepped closer to the hologram. "Look, I know–"

"One
month. Find the rogue and take care of it." The hologram disappeared.

He
wasted no more time. Going against the Synod probably didn't sit well with
Mateusz, but…who gave a shit?

He
jumped into his shuttle, not waiting for the hatch to close before lifting it
off the ground, racing a direct path back to the cottage. The home he and Lena
built through the three lives they lived together, a sanctuary away from high
evolution. A place that became empty after she left.

"Lights!"
As soon as the front door opened, Tarek stalked toward his screens, checking
his private feed while lights cast an orange glow in the room.

EH:
41.1231 ͦ N, 75.3594 ͦ W

He
punched
the numbers into the panel and stood back. A rusted box, which must've passed
for a home, appeared. The faded blue skirting didn't hide the thing's
undercarriage, the house about two feet from the muddy ground. Matter of fact,
there were a cluster of houses. All the same. All rundown. But the coordinates
showcased one, and on blocks in front of it sat a guy, skinny and balding. He
smoked a cigarette like it was his job, taking strong pulls, exhaling slowly.
No clue who the guy could be, but there was a good chance he knew Lena.

Stepping
forward, Tarek adjusted the picture on the screen until it projected into his
living room, the picture now a hologram right inside his house. The shriveled
guy even appeared to sit on the couch, leaning on the edge, still sucking on his
cigarette. Ignoring him, Tarek began to scout the area, noticing a patch of
woods not far from the house. He'd open the portal in there and wait for the
right time to start searching the place.

All the
damn houses looked the same. A problem but not impossible. He'd bang on every
door, peek through every window if he had to.

The idea
of her living in one of those rust heaps…

There
she was, walking right up beside him to face the smoking jerk-off on the
blocks. Breathing became a second priority as she stood next to him, the image
so crisp, like he could reach out and touch her.

His
hand, trembling and clammy, moved to smooth her hair, short this time. It stood
out like she'd spent the better part of the day in a fitful sleep. His heart
jumped but sank when all his touch did was scatter the pixels in the hologram. He
remembered, though. Her dark hair would be soft, thick.

The
false smile on her face and the way she fidgeted indicated the relationship she
had with this guy wasn't all that great. He dropped his hand, not wanting to
fudge the image, and watched.

She
rubbed her lips, shrugged her shoulders…waved at some kid. All the while, the
asshole on the blocks kept his beady eyes on Lena. The hate and disgust on the
man's sunken face had Tarek swiping at the image, wishing the guy could feel
it, frustrated he couldn't hear what they were saying.

When
Lena disappeared into the house, he tried to follow her. Stupid because he
forgot the picture was, well, just a picture, but…

"I'm
coming." His voice was loud, ragged.

Tarek
went to his room and opened the trunk containing the contego suit he hadn't
worn in almost twenty years. In minutes, he was ready. He put out the fire,
disabled the screens, the image disappearing, and fried the circuits with his
UV pen.

The
coordinates cemented in his brain, he raised his fist. The ceiling above his
hand grew blurry, wavy. A calming breath escaped his lips, and he closed his
eyes, letting the wind kicking from the open portal pull him through.

Lena

M
om and I had to go through the same
routine as last night. Only this time, Dad didn't want anyone touching him. The
shakes and sweating seemed uncontrollable, and by the way he twitched and
scratched at his skin, he looked uncomfortable, too. He acted like a douche,
but no one got hit, and so I deemed the evening of sitcoms and canned meat
sandwiches a success.

By
eight, Dad decided it was time for all of us to go to bed after we prayed
together.

Holy
Jes–I mean, ah, praying?

He kept
saying, "Yes, Lord. I won't, Lord. I will, Lord."

We knelt
in front of his chair while he talked to someone inside his mushy head. When he
released our hands, I pushed off my knees and helped Mom from hers, giving her
a hug before heading to my room.

"'Night,
Dad," I said with a wave.

He held
up a shaky hand. "'Night, peanut."

I almost
felt sorry for him.

∞ ∞ ∞

Time
dragged waiting for the clock to hit ten. Leaving then would give Dad enough
time to fall asleep, plus ensure I'd be here when Mom came to check on me
before going to bed.

Who knew
what Wilma would tell me, but it'd be more than what I had now. I just wanted
her to tell me how to stop it–whatever
it
was.

A glance
at the bed had panic inching its way into my gut. It looked so innocent, but
laying on it was out of the question. Sitting on the floor was good enough. I
tried to read, make the time go by faster, but the warning Wilma had given
caused the words on the pages to get all blurry. Control my fear?

Yeah,
sure, let me get right on that.

After
spending so much time chasing it, fear finally decided to chase me. I couldn't
even look at my bed without my stomach performing gymnastics.

When the
clock hit ten, I pushed out the screen, meeting the frigid air. The
temperatures still dipped into the thirties some nights, and tonight happened
to be one of those arctic spells.

Grabbing
a sweatshirt, I climbed out, waiting a second to adjust to the cold before
walking toward Wilma's, avoiding the few light posts casting dim glows.

I hurried
past the menagerie of mailboxes, noticing a few shiny new locks. After stomping
up to her porch and pounding on Wilma's door for a few minutes, I rubbed my
hands together, trying not to get annoyed.

From the
way she acted in the cafeteria, I'd have thought she'd at least be home
waiting, but the windows revealed no lights and no Wilma. One more smack on the
front door made me feel better before taking a seat on her porch steps.

A few
kids walked by on their way to the woods. A couple nodded before going to the
usual spot near the stream where they smoked the pot their parents forgot to
hide. The tree line was only about twenty feet away, but the stream was deeper
in, preventing the skunk smell from permeating the stale park air. Well, the
kids' skunk smells, at least.

Plenty
of the trailers had windows open for ventilation, you know, so the little kids
sleeping only feet away from the living room or the kitchen couldn't smell
their parents' habit. Idiots.

At least
ten minutes passed after the boys went into the woods and still no sign of
Wilma. Toes and fingers now popsicles, I decided to head back home to spend
another sleepless night on the floor.

A
movement at the edge of the forest caught my attention, causing me to grip the
railing. At first, I thought it was Wilma, but the shape was too big, too
masculine. Maybe one of the potheads decided to come back without his friends?
Nope. The size of the guy didn't match any of the skinny boys who walked in
minutes before.

When he
made it to the edge of the woods, twinges of...something...prickled my skin.

"Finally."
His voice was a whisper, but that didn't stop what he said from carrying across
the road as he moved closer. Sadness covering his face gave me an odd urge to
reassure him, let him know everything was okay.

His hand
covered his heart. "It's been so long."

I took
sporadic, small steps off the porch, not wanting to spook him. That's when I
noticed his clothes.

Dressed
all in black, the tight shirt and pants made his blond hair glow. I'd never
seen anyone outside of actors in movies wear what passed for a leotard, which
moved with him as though his clothes were a living organism leeching onto his
body, needing it to survive.

"Who
are you?" My nails dug into the wood.

He shook
his head as the sadness surrounding his eyes tightened to anger so vivid waves
of it floated in the frosty air.

The
sudden change definitely helped erase any desire to soothe him. I had no clue
what pissed him off, but sticking around to find out didn't sound like a good
idea.

The
ripples and sways of his shirt as he stalked across the road were beautiful,
graceful, but the look on his face said I should forget about his grace and
run.

My hands
pushed down the air in hopes he understood the universal signal for
calm
down
.

If he
understood, he didn't listen because he ate up the rest of the space between us
in seconds.

I took
off, running to the back of the park, not wanting to lead him to my doorstep.
He was right behind me, so close I imagined his breath hitting the back of my
neck when he spoke. "Wait!"

Hell
no!

I ran a
full circle around the park before hitting the woods. My speed picked up as I
made a path straight to the caves us kids used to play in until we were too
cool to play cavemen and dinosaurs. When the spot came into view, the idea didn't
sound so great.

I'd cornered
myself.

A quick
change in direction and I headed toward town where people were bound to be
roaming.

He
called out again. "Lena, wait, please!"

My feet
caught up in the underbrush, and I fell on my ass. "
Who are you?"
I should've kept running, as any sane person would have. But the anguish in his
voice tore at my heart.
He knew my name…

The guy
stood right above me by then, one booted foot planted on either side of my
hips. Without saying anything, he held out a hand. When I didn't lift an arm to
accept, he grabbed the front of my sweatshirt, lifting me to my feet.

Crap, he
was going to kiss me.

I positioned
my knee to meet his jewels as he bent closer, peering into my eyes. "They're
so green."

Again,
running would've been smart, but he was so big, close to a foot taller and more
than twice my size.

He must've
been able to read my mind because his full lips carried a hint of a smile. "You
won't get far, Lena, you never could."

Crazy
son of a…
"Who
the hell are you?" I said for the third time, trying to pull his fist from
my shirt. I did manage to kick his shin, but that only succeeded in him lifting
me off the ground.

"As
feisty as ever, aren't you, love?" His smile widened, his gray eyes
shining.

Gray
eyes…

"It's
you! You're
Him
." Words spewed out in an incoherent mess. My fingers
pried his eyes open wider to get a better look. Yeah, probably a stupid move.

His brow
scrunched a little and he shook my hands away. "Do you know how long I've
been looking for you?"

Come on!
Not even a little scared? There in the woods, alone with only the potheads a
half-mile downstream? Nope. I felt alive, happy. I even had to suppress an urge
to wrap my arms around his thick neck and laugh. No probably about it–stupid
was too nice an adjective.

But it
was
Him
.

"Where
did you come from?" Was that a smile stretching my face? A smile? Really?

He set
me down and squeezed my upper arms, though not hard like Zander did this
afternoon. It felt more like a desperate need to touch me. "I–"

"Goddamn
it! Should've known it was you sending me on a goose chase. How'd you find us?"

I looked
around him. "Wilma?"

She
ignored me, while the giant ignored her, keeping his eyes on my face.

"Hey,
asshole!" She waved her hand, sending him flying ten feet and landing with
a thud on the frozen ground.

The
vision in the cafeteria! What the…?

I
stumbled, backing up against a tree. "What...How the–"

She waved
her hand toward me, freezing my mouth. "Not now." Wilma turned to the
giant. "You can't be here."

"I'm
not leaving." He struggled to get up, but another wave of Wilma's hand
knocked him back to the ground.

"The
hell you aren't." She threw an arm up, opening her fist to the sky. A
tear, the only way I could describe it, ripped open the dark as the wind
swirled and hissed around it. Her free hand guided his body toward the hole. All
I could do was stand by that tree, my lips frozen shut and heart pounding.

He held
out a hand, struggling against the wind, his voice deep and loud. "Wilma,
there's trouble! Let me–"

She didn't
listen.

Him
turned his attention to me. "I
won't leave you, ever again."

The voodoo
Wilma performed on my mouth made it impossible to speak.

One
final look and he was gone–sucked into the tear that mended as soon as his body
disappeared. Sadness settled deep in my chest, a feeling closer to mourning,
actually.

Really?

As soon
as Wilma waved a hand in my direction, I screamed loud enough for one of the
potheads to yell back, asking if everything was okay. When I kept at it, Wilma
waved her hand again before answering him. "Just fine," she said,
cupping her hands around her mouth, "ran into a raccoon, is all."

When the
guy laughed, she began to pace, a whole string of new and creative cursing
spouting from her lips. She started to flip the night off and kick dirt in the
air. After a few minutes, she relaxed with deep breaths and waved a hand toward
me. This time, my mouth stayed shut.

"Tell
me exactly what happened." She waited about five seconds. "Tell me!"

After a
few deep breaths of my own, I headed back home, not bothering to look at her.

She
reached for my arm, her strength like a bodybuilder's. "What did he say to
you?"

I wanted
to ignore her, hating that she made him leave. "You didn't let him stick
around long enough to say anything."

Curses
again flew from her mouth, things like "big blond bastard" and "empty-headed
jackass." I watched her rant, hoping she'd reveal something, anything.

She
turned to me with hands planted on her hips. "So, what'd you think?"

"Of
what?" My legs and arms shook–and not from the cold.

"Oh,
I don't know. Maybe of how that big blond son of a bitch got sucked into the
sky?"

"Why
don't you tell me what the hell I'm supposed to think?" Control slipped
with every syllable.

She
smirked, lowering her scowl some.

Nope, I
wasn't gonna take any more of her shit. "Christ, tell me something,
goddamn it! My life turned upside down in less than a week. Am I crazy? Are you
even real?"

Her
raspy voice softened. "You're not crazy, Lena."

"Then
tell me something!"

She
hesitated a few times, her throat bobbing up and down. "You've just met
Tarek Montague."

"Who?"

She
grabbed my hand, holding it as if I were her child. "He's the reason you
choose to be a Guide and recycle your energy to Exemplar every time your body
gives out." She snorted. "With the exception of this cycle." She
shook her head as if to force herself to stay on track.