Touched by an Alien (30 page)

He gave another bitter laugh. “Empath, remember? I can feel it.”

I shook my head. “No, Jeff. I don’t know what you’re feeling, but it’s not coming from me. I don’t hate you at all.”

“Right. Look, there’s no one else in the room, and I can feel the hatred just rolling off you. Please stop torturing me, Kitty.”

I got a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Jeff, please don’t leave. Don’t leave the room, and don’t leave me right now.”

“Why not?” he asked, sounding so tired.

“Jeff, it’s not me you’re feeling. It’s got to be him.” I’d been pretty calm, all things considered. But this was beyond creepy.

Martini looked at me with his eyes narrowed. “You’re human, you can lie well.”

“I’m human, and I’m freaked out. You picking up any of that?”

I could see him concentrate. “Yeah . . . just vaguely.” He was still vacillating, and I couldn’t imagine what I’d do by myself right now. I couldn’t feel Mephistopheles, but part of him was in me somewhere.

“Jeff, he’s trying to take over. I don’t know what to do, okay? I know what to do to kill him. But I need you. And he knows it and is trying to drive you away.” I wondered what I was going to do to turn off Reader, Claudia, or Lorraine. Christopher was already barely tolerating me, so I didn’t worry about him. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because I can’t feel it,” he said sadly. He opened the door and walked out.

The tears came without my wanting them to. I was scared, and now I was alone. The one person I’d sort of thought I could rely on had bagged on me, and there was nothing I could do to bring him back. I still didn’t know if I was in love with him or not, but I knew I didn’t hate him.

I buried my face in my hands and sobbed quietly. I couldn’t go to my parents because it would put them in danger. I couldn’t tell anyone else—if they locked me up for study we were all going to be dead.

Someone’s arms went around me, and I was up against a body. A rock hard, well-proportioned body. “It’s okay,” Martini said softly. “I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t keep from putting my arms around him. “What, I have to be hysterical for you to believe me?” He was going to have another wet shirt at the rate I was going.

He stroked my back. “In a way. You’re right, there’s an external emotional layer blocking yours. And what we’ve gone through this morning is grueling from an empathic standpoint. But I could feel it when you started to cry—it was just like last night at the airport and then after your nightmare.” He kissed my head. “I’m sorry, baby. Please stop crying.”

“You won’t believe me if I stop!” I was losing it, and I couldn’t get under control.

Martini shifted and slid his hands to the sides of my head. He moved me so I was looking into his eyes. “I’ll believe you. This is going to be really hard. My empathic synapses are burned out, and all my normal blocks are shot. I need to regenerate, and the only way to do that is in an isolation chamber, and I need at least twelve hours of sleep in there, too. I know we don’t have the time. I can feel the entity, but it’s not connected to you like a parasite would be. It’s got to be the implanted memories from Mephistopheles trying to take over. It seems like they’re growing stronger over time.”

“He wants me to kill you and Christopher. I know it. I know that’s why I saw that in the dream. Everyone else will be taken care of—killed or turned into superbeings. But not you two. He wants the two of you dead.”

“Do you know why?”

“No.” I really didn’t. I was sure I should be afraid of the answer, though. “I just know he’s coming. And soon. You’re right, we don’t have time for you to regenerate.”

A small smile crept across his mouth. “There are a couple of things that help.” He bent and kissed me.

I could have cried with relief. Still felt great, still wiped out most of whatever was worrying me. One hand slid behind my head and the other down my back. My arms were already around him, and I tightened my hold, clutching at him.

It was a long kiss, but he finally pulled away a bit. “Is this room soundproof?” I asked as soon as I could form words again.

“It’s a library, so, yeah, we followed Earth standards.” He looked confused.

“Does the door lock?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Well, I’ve always had this fantasy about being ravaged on a conference table.” Odd but true. I hadn’t shared this with anyone before, however.

His eyes were smoldering again, but he also looked a little frustrated. “I can’t believe I have to say this, but that great idea’s going to have to wait. This is one of those need-to-conserve energy times. And a good ravaging takes time and energy.”

“I can wait.” If I had to. Damned psychotic superbeings always messing up a great ravaging opportunity.

“Good. It’ll give me something to live for.” He kissed me again, then pulled me close. “I’m probably only going to pick up extreme emotions from you now, and they’re likely to be really faint. So screaming for help out loud might be a good idea.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Do. Now, you should do whatever ritual you have to say good-bye in case you’re not coming back.”

My arms tightened around him. “Can’t we just pretend it’s a given?”

“I wish. No, you need to see your parents. I’ll take you there. Now.” Martini lifted me off the table and stood me up.

“I thought I was in charge of this particular operation.”

He grinned. “Only when everyone else is around.”

MARTINI KEPT HIS ARM AROUND MY SHOULDERS
, and I kept mine around his waist as we left the library to head back to the transient section. I was still freaked that he might think I hated him, and besides, holding him felt good.

We didn’t get too far, however, when one of the many A-Cs I couldn’t place came racing up. The Armani fatigues and general hunkiness made them all look alike after a while. “Jeff, we have a situation.”

“Unless it’s Mephistopheles, it can probably wait.” Martini didn’t sound angry, annoyed, or uninterested—he sounded tired.

“We don’t think it can,” the agent said. “The teams involved called for direction.”

Martini sighed. “Okay.” We followed the agent out of the library, to the elevators, and back up to the level where we’d arrived, what I was pretty sure was the Bat Cave level. I wasn’t positive—I could have been here before or never hit this floor at all. I felt like a small rat in a really large maze inside the Science Center.

We headed to a large room within the Bat Cave that was a lot like Batman’s inner sanctum, only no one was in a rubber suit with a nifty cape. Lots of big screens, lots of computer terminals, lots of other things I couldn’t identify. The décor screamed Command Center.

Martini and I unhooked just as Christopher ran in from another door. “Glad they found you,” he said to Martini. “It’s more of a Field situation, from what little I’ve gotten.”

Martini nodded, and they stood side by side in front of the main screens. Any animosity there had been between them in the library seemed gone. I had to figure this wasn’t any ordinary problem.

“What
do
we have?” Martini asked as images came up on-screen.

A new A-C answered. “East Base reports clustered activity.”

“Clustered activity?” I couldn’t help it, I had to ask.

“Multiple parasites,” Christopher answered. Without snarling or glaring. Either he’d taken a happy pill or this was a really scary thing. “We have the media under control—there was enough time for that—but not the actual manifestations.”

“How many?” Martini asked. Just like at JFK, there was no indication of humor or lightheartedness.

The A-C who’d brought us here cleared his throat. “At least fifty.” Images popped up on the big screens in front of us. This was a sports fanatic’s dream TV set up—we had picture within picture, every game on side-by-side, and then some. All fifty manifestations were on-screen, which now meant we were watching horror movie tryouts.

Some of the hopefuls were really giving it their all to win America’s Most Terrifying Monster. I wanted to figure out a way to tell them all they weren’t going to make it to the finals, but considering what was in front of me, some of them had an excellent chance of making Mephistopheles really proud.

“Jeff, you’re live to the Field,” another one said quietly.

Martini started talking, with a lot of authority and very, very fast. As if he were the world’s fastest auctioneer on some serious speed. So fast I realized I couldn’t comprehend it; it was like a barrage of data. I caught snippets—he was deploying different teams from other regions, requesting some military support for some of the affected areas, ordering other teams to disengage, and so on.

I realized he was speaking at the standard A-C level, probably slowly, considering he seemed to be speaking clearly. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t understand it as a human—it was also making me feel dizzy.

I took a step back. Didn’t get any better. My passing out right now wouldn’t be helpful to anyone, but the dizzy didn’t stop. The only saving grace was that I was pretty sure Martini wasn’t going to be able to pick up that I was about to barf or pass out—one small benefit of his empathic whatevers being burned out.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, Christopher looked over his shoulder and backed up. Martini didn’t notice, probably because he was completely engrossed in saving the entire East Coast from becoming superbeing sushi.

Christopher caught me before I went down. “I’m going to take Kitty to the Imageering side,” he said quietly to the A-Cs near us. “Don’t disturb him, but the moment he notices she’s gone, make sure he knows where she is.”

He moved me through the door he’d come in from. It had a lot of screens and crap in it, too. I was too close to barfing my guts out to really take it in. He put me into a chair in a far corner, then squatted down. “You going to be okay?”

I managed to nod, but I had to close my eyes. “That was almost as bad as the gates or hyperspeed.”

“Yeah.” Someone began massaging my temples. I assumed it was Christopher but didn’t feel up to opening my eyes to find out.

I was still nauseated, but even through that the thought occurred that he was actually being nice. “You okay?”

“I’m an A-C. It’s normal for us.”

Not what I’d meant, but as my stomach started to settle, I had enough brainpower going to keep my mouth shut. This was probably the most pleasant Christopher had managed to be to me, and I didn’t want a lecture from Mom about how he’d extended the olive branch and I’d burned it or something.

I finally felt well enough to open my eyes. Christopher gave me a small smile. “Better? Or do you need a wastebasket?”

I managed a chuckle. “I’m all for skipping lunch, but otherwise, I’m okay, I think.”

“Good.” He took his hands away slowly. “You sure you’re up for what’s coming?”

“As long as you all promise not to talk too fast for the humans, I think so.”

He gave me a long look. “You realize the chances of our dying are exponential.”

“I could drive my car down the highway and die, too. Well, I could if I freaking knew where you put it, that is.”

Christopher actually didn’t glare or snarl at this—he laughed. “It’s safe. Not here, but safe. We stored it in Pueblo Caliente.”

“Good to know. People die all the time. From all I’ve learned in the past day and a half, my mother’s been living on the edge for most of her life, and she’s still here.”

“You’re not afraid?”

I thought about it. “Yeah, I am. But I’m more afraid of Mephistopheles taking me over and enacting his version of the Master Race through me.” I shrugged. “I guess I don’t come from hide-under-the-bed stock.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I’ve been picking that up.”

Christopher smiling was something of a shock. Like all the A-Cs, he was gorgeous. But when he was busy scowling or glaring, it was hard to notice. Smiling, I realized, he was easily as handsome as Martini, albeit in his own way.

“Thanks for getting me out of there.”

He shook his head. “Jeff shouldn’t have brought you in.”

“I don’t think he realized what was happening. The guy who found us wasn’t exactly forthcoming with the level of the badness. And Jeff’s not feeling a hundred percent. He told me his empathic . . . thingies . . . are burned out.”

“Synapses.” He grinned. “Thingies can work, too, of course. Still . . .” His smile faded, and suddenly Christopher was looking at me with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for. I felt my cheeks get hot for no reason I could name.

Someone came up behind him. “What’s going on?” Martini didn’t sound amused.

I jerked my head up. He didn’t look amused, either. “I got sort of . . . sick.”

Christopher stood up slowly, looking at me the whole time. Then he turned around. “I decided letting her collapse on the floor would be bad for morale. Problem with that?” Christopher was in profile to me, so it was easy to see that he was glaring. I was fairly sure it was the little-used but ever-impressive Glare #4, which was heavy on the slitted eyes while keeping the mouth ready for sarcasm.