The Embers Of My Heart (24 page)

"Understood," I said without understanding a damn thing. If she wanted me to keep things from Alistair Ripley himself, that was a message in and of itself. "Why didn't she come tell me herself?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe she just wanted to sleep in."

"Sounds about right." It didn't sound like Absynthe at all, but she still seemed angry with me. Even when I asked her for help with the headaches from the fracture, she hadn't responded. We'd have to talk when I got back. "Well, thanks for the message, and thanks for not messing up my plans."

"Yeah, whatever. Have a good summer," she said, standing up and smoothing her dress.

I boarded the first plane just under an hour later. By the time I reached Chicago for my layover, my head was pounding. By the time I boarded the second flight, the pain had risen to agony. Someone was drumming on my skull with sticks of depleted uranium. The sensation of the plane landing was horrific. I winced and waited until everyone else was off the plane before trying to stand. The attendants looked at me with sympathy, but didn't offer anything other than a hand getting up. They probably assumed that getting off the plane would help. It did, slightly.

I wandered my way to the baggage carousel and waited. My bag was one of the last ones off the plane, naturally, and by the time I picked it up, the pain threatened to make me pass out. I pulled the pre-paid phone out of my pocket, having remembered to take it with me, and stared down at the number pad. The numbers blurred. I looked up in hopes that I could find someone to help.

She was there.

Before I could get a word out, she strode toward me, parting the crowd with nothing but her singular focus. Her outfit was very nearly the same as it had been when I first met her in Washington, a sleeveless top, a black skirt, and her red hair sparkling as she passed beneath the lights. She didn't pause, didn't waste a step, didn't take her time at all. She slipped her arms around my neck and kissed me. She kissed me with wild abandon, uncaring of the audience, of blocking a section of the baggage claim, of everything. It took me no time at all to stop caring too. Even the headache seemed to respect the circumstances.

A low whistle of appreciation finally broke us apart, though she kept her arms around my neck. "Welcome to Seattle," she said. I couldn't find my words and she tilted her head slightly and smiled. "Aren't you going to say hello?"

"Hi, Sarah," I said.

Her smile grew and she gave me a second kiss, almost as thorough as the first one. "I'm glad you're here."

"So am I."

"Come on. I parked in the short term lot and don't want to pay extra." She grabbed my hand and I followed, trying to keep my balance as my head pulsed with pain. She asked me a series of questions that I could barely follow. I tried to answer, but I couldn't tell if I was talking gibberish or not. She didn't seem to care.

When we got to her car, she threw my suitcase in the back seat, pushed me into the front seat, and put her hand on my forehead. "It's worse than I thought," she said. "You've got one hell of a fever."

"I've had a non-stop headache for days. It's worse than yesterday when we talked," I said.

"Going to take a quick look." She closed her eyes and I saw blue light flicker dimly behind her eyelids. "Yeah. This isn't good." She patted my thigh and turned the key in the ignition. "How do you feel about speeding?"

"I'm fine with it."

"I mean speeding at frightfully illegal speeds. Speeds that would get my license pulled instantly if we were pulled over. Speeding that would get me thrown in jail if I was just a normal girl."

"You're the one driving. Why?"

We backed out and headed for the exit. "I was right. Someone twisted you hard," she said. "It's suppressing your power with a feedback loop. The more power you manifest, the stronger it gets and the worse you feel."

"But I'm not manifesting anything," I said. "I haven't even tried to tap my power lately!"

"You're fractured too," she said. "You took a few good shots in that fight with the Bureau guy, right? I bet they didn't even think to wait before locking you down. Probably some asshole with less common sense than God gave a moose. Let's lock his powers down for a while! Surprise, he's manifesting erratically because someone shocked the ever-living fuck out of his brain, he's stressed beyond belief, and he's a brand new second tier latent! Oops! Stroke time! I can't believe they didn't even do a half assed medical check on you."

I licked my lips. My mouth was dry. "So, is this reversible?"

"The twist? Sure. That's not the problem."

"I'm afraid to ask what the actual problem is."

She looked over at me and grinned. I could tell she was forcing it. "That twist has weeks' worth of power built up behind it? If it's not released slowly and carefully, it could end poorly."

"Like how poorly?"

"Like your head explodes. That poorly."

"Seriously?"

"I wish I was joking."

I didn't say anything else until we hit the highway. She threw the car into the left lane and shifted up. I rocked back in the seat and tried not to whimper as blood sloshed around in my head. "All right. So you don't want blood all over your car. What's the plan?"

"Get you to my place as quickly as possible."

"And then what? You fix me?"

"No." She chewed on her lip. "I can't do it alone."

"I'm going to hope that you have someone you can call on for help."

"That depends," she said.

Even in my current state, I could put a couple of pieces together. "My uncle."

"I cannot confirm nor deny that I'm about to call him and have him meet us at my apartment." She reached for her pocket. "Don't grin at me like that."

"I'm not trying to."

She glared and dialed someone with her thumb. "This is Sarah," she said after a moment. "Got an emergency. Going code white. I need you at my apartment as soon as possible or he's going to die. We'll be there in ten or less."

"Code white?" I asked.

She didn't respond, just stomped on the gas. Her eyes suddenly blazed with blue light and people started to pull out of the lane ahead of us. My vision blurred and I waved a hand in front of my eyes. With some difficulty, I focused again. "Hold on," she said. "I know. I can feel it slipping."

"I don't want to go this way," I said.

"No shit."

I tried not to pass out. I turned inwards and tried to hold myself together. By the time the car stopped, I was sweating ice and panting for breath. Someone helped me out of the car, presumably Star, and together we stumbled up a flight of stairs. "Stay with me," the voice whispered. "I can't lose you now, not after you just got here!"

The next time I blinked, I was on a couch and staring at a blurry ceiling. Focusing was impossible. My vision shifted from clear to blurry to dark in an endless cycle. I could hear someone moving or talking. I couldn't tell which. Nothing made sense. The only thing I knew for sure was that the end of this pain was close, one way or another.

Power ripped into my mind. My vision blurred into an endless blue mist. "Tap it," said a man's voice, unfamiliar to me, but deep, resonant, and comforting in my ears and my mind. "Redirect it into something else, something harmless."

"There's so much damage already," Star said.

"He's been here before. I can see the scars. He'll make it through."

"I don't know if I can handle this. I'm skimming just a touch of the power behind the twist and it's taking everything I have to keep it stable. Can you take it?"

"I can't. He trusts you. Let it through."

Something shifted in my mind and the pain moved. I could feel someone taking on that part of my burden. She couldn't handle it. I didn't want her to handle it. I pulled back and she pulled with me. "No," I whispered.

Her arms moved around me and pulled me close. I couldn't tell if it was real or a psionic dream. "I'm all right," she whispered back. "We'll get through this."

Slowly, the pain receded. She showed me the torrent of psionic power dammed up for the past month, tearing my mind and brain apart from the inside. We released the floodgates, letting it out bit by bit, sharing the sensations between us. The pain oozed out of my mind, as if lancing a boil or cyst. She recoiled at that mental image, but both of us agreed that the feeling of relief was similar.

My eyes snapped open. Time had passed, but I couldn't tell how much. "I can see what they're trying to do with him," the male voice said. "No wonder they set the twist up that way. What I don't understand is why they didn't keep an eye on his condition after his injuries."

"They were scared," Star said. I felt her hand brush my forehead. She looked down at me and flinched as she noticed my eyes were open. "Just like me, but for entirely different reasons. He has too much locked up in there. Don't you, Kevin?"

"He's awake?" A man stepped into my line of sight and looked down at me. His eyes were darker than my mom's and mine, but I could see the resemblance. His hair was the same color as mine. "Hi, Kevin. It's been a long time."

I tried to smile up at him. "Uncle Todd." I saw his look of surprise just as my vision went dark again.

The next time I woke up, I sat bolt upright. Impressions hit my brain in a stream of near panic. I was in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. A light was on. It hurt. I was sweating. I was next to someone. My heart was hammering. I couldn't breathe. I slapped a hand to my chest and tried to force myself to breathe.

Her hand joined mine. "Kevin?"

My name and her touch turned a key in my mind. I was able to take in one deep breath after another, giving myself the ability to speak again. "I'm ok."

She squeezed my hand. "I know. If you weren't ok, you'd be screaming by now."

I managed to smile and took a quick look around. Her bedroom was cluttered, but an organized chaos. A television sat on a dresser in the corner while other dressers lined the other wall. A couple of candles burned and at least a dozen pairs of shoes stood neatly along the floor in front of the line of dressers. A light sat on her nightstand, illuminating the sketches and artwork on the walls.

My gaze travelled to her. A book lay face down in her lap. Her hair was down and a pair of glasses perched on her nose. As she sat up straighter, I could see she was wearing a pale blue nightgown. She took her glasses off and placed them on the nightstand. "I didn't know you wore glasses," I said.

She shrugged. I couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed like she was blushing. "I only wear them for reading. Seems silly, doesn't it? I'm too young to be wearing reading glasses."

"I think they're cute," I said.

"Look at you. Awake for less than two minutes and you're already flirting with me. I've been a bad influence."

"Sorry." I looked down. My heart was finally slowing down to a reasonable rate. For the first time in weeks, I didn't have a mild headache threatening in the back of my skull. I hadn't even consciously realized it was there, but now that it was gone, it was a stunning relief.

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

"Sorry anyways."

"Stop it." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I'm glad. I knew you'd be out for a while, but you had me worried. He said the longer you slept, the better, so I just let you do your thing."

"How long?" I looked at her nightstand to see the clock. "Is that am or pm?"

"It's three in the morning," she said.

"I've been out for a long time."

"Sixteen hours and change."

"Did you stay up the whole time?"

"No." She covered her mouth, yawned, and made a face at me. "Shut up. Yes. I took care of some things while you were sleeping. Paid the bills. Did some research. Tried to cook. Ordered some food. You know."

"Thanks for taking care of me."

"Of course." She smiled at me.

"What about my uncle?" I asked.

She squeezed my hand again. "He stuck around for a couple of hours until he was sure you'd make it through. He's a busy man. He's a smart man, too, way smarter than you. He left saying something about how he knew we'd appreciate some private time."

"He's my favorite uncle now," I said.

"He said he'll drop by sometime in the next week or two. There's a lot going on here, but once the major events finish up, he's going to make some time for you. As long as I let you have that time off."

"Time off?"

She grinned at me. "Remember, you're my manservant for the month. Everything you do has to benefit me in some way. I get final approval of everything. Including what you wear."

I belatedly realized I was only wearing my boxers. "One track mind."

"I debated getting a humiliating costume for you to wear," she said. "A speedo, to be precise."

"You wouldn't be so cruel."

"Why not? It would be hot. Super hot."

"I'd throw myself out the window."

"And everyone will wonder why a young man is lying dead on the sidewalk, wearing only a speedo and a startled expression. The city will be consumed by the mystery for years."

I shook my head. "No, the only suspect will be his sexy young lover, who will find herself implicated in a banana hammock fetish ring."

She smacked my shoulder as she laughed. "You're horrible. I've missed you so much." She threw her arms around me and hugged me close.

"I've missed you too," I said. I leaned into her hug for a moment, but then a stray memory of Nikki crossed my mind. For one ludicrous second, I worried about what she'd think. It was ridiculous. I shook my head and Star gently disengaged herself from me. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "I know you've been through a lot lately. I'm not going to push you."

"I find that hard to believe."

She pressed her free hand to her chest. "How dare you, sir! Such accusations! How could you believe that I'd make moves on you before you're ready? I am a strong woman and easily able to resist your rapier wit, your delicious body, your warm smile and your cheerful heart. Though I do confess, the speedo still comes to mind."

"I was right about the fetish, wasn't I?"