Trance (24 page)

I cried out as tremors blasted through my body, from my stomach to my breasts, the top of my head to the tips of my toes. My trembling legs slipped. Gage withdrew. Groaned. Warmth hit my belly and was washed away by the shower’s stream. Strong arms looped around my waist. I gratefully collapsed against his chest, resting my head on his shoulder. His fingertips tickled my lower back, tracing strange patterns. After a moment, I giggled; I must have had tile marks on my skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. That was … great. Besides, tile tattoos on the ass are sexy.”

He laughed and swept me into another sensual kiss. I couldn’t imagine ever tiring of the taste of him on me and the scent of him around me.

“Come on,” he said, kissing my nose and mouth, and pulling
me back toward the shower spray. “Let’s finish before we both prune.”

The evening (morning?) ended in my room, both of us clean, in our pajamas—well, boxers for him and a long T-shirt for me—and well satisfied. We had stretched out on my bed, his chest pressed to my back and our legs twined. Gage pushed my damp hair out of the way and planted gentle kisses on the nape of my neck. My insides trembled, my legs were jelly, and I never wanted to move.

“I just realized something,” he said as I was about to doze off, his breath hot on my ear.

I blinked sleepily, wondering vaguely if the purple veil was more translucent than a few minutes ago. “What’s that?”

“We’ll have to do this all over again when you get your sight back.”

“I don’t know, Gage, maybe next time you should blindfold yourself to make it fair.”

“Getting kinky already?”

“Maybe.”

He chuckled, tightening his arms around my waist. I closed my eyes and focused on the beat of his heart against my back.

“The others will be awake in a few hours,” I murmured, knowing I should do something about that. Have a plan ready, or get dressed. Something.

“We’ve got time, Teresa. Get some rest.”

“’Kay.” And I did.

I
watch her sleep as before. She and her faceless companion. She is sweating, and I know why. The room is hot. Too hot. I smell something awful, dangerous, and I cannot warn her.

Her companion is engulfed in flames. She knows he is dying, cursing someone for it, though he cannot speak. Their minds are linked, as they have always been.

Who did this?

They don’t answer.

Her eyelids fly open. Luminescent eyes stare in hatred and accusation. Not at me. Through me.

Someone is killing them. Two dead by fire.

Murdered.

Flames surround me now, as well. Flames of color and light, of a thousand voices singing, of power beyond measure.

I burn.

This time I didn’t fly out of bed when I woke up. The memory of burning heat still lingered as I stared at the ceiling. The
light was off and only a sliver of morning sunlight peeked in through the pulled window shade. Gage still slept behind me, arms around my waist.

I blinked hard. Morning sunlight. I sat up, the nightmare forgotten. Gage grunted; I ignored him.

It was gone. Not even a tinge of violet remained in my vision—only the golden shaft of light drawn across the floor like a beacon of hope.

“Teresa?”

He touched my shoulder. With a gleeful laugh, I twisted around and tackled him to the mattress. I straddled him and gazed into his gorgeous eyes. Eyes I’d missed.

“I see you,” I said.

Gage brushed a curtain of purple-streaked hair away from my face and drew me down. I hovered above him, grinning like a fool as he studied my eyes.

“Wow,” he said.

“Yeah, wow. Dr. Seward won’t believe this when we tell him.”

“What do we tell him?”

“Easy.” I leaned forward, hair brushing my cheeks. “We tell him you figured out how to clean my filter.”

I dissolved into giggles, overcome by the euphoria of having my sight back. Gage hooked his arms behind my knees, sat up fast, and effectively completed a maneuver that landed me flat on my back. He loomed above, laughing along with me, and I got my first real look at the damage done yesterday afternoon. From his throat to his belly button and across both pectorals, a pool of bruising marred his
skin. Shades of black, blue, and purple ran like a chalk drawing left in the rain.

“Christ, Gage,” I said.

“It’s fine.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little. The painkillers wore off a few hours ago.” He took my hand and pressed it lightly above his heart. “It’s okay, Teresa.”

“It’s not.” The joy of my returned eyesight diminished with the clarity it brought. Half of our team had been seriously hurt yesterday, and they were looking at me to lead. I couldn’t keep distracting myself with Gage. My feelings for him were as mixed up as his for me. He wouldn’t open up about his past, and yet he’d eagerly engaged in our affair.

Unfortunately, a deeper examination of “us” had to wait until we’d removed Specter as a threat. I had to focus on that and nothing else.

“I should go see Dr. Seward,” I said. “Then talk to the others.”

“About anything in particular?”

I hadn’t told anyone about my dreams, but tonight’s had unnerved me. More than just the recurring events and new hints each night, I thought I could connect the dream to a newspaper headline I’d glanced at in Bakersfield last week, one of those things I saw without truly comprehending it. Two dead in a fire, cause unknown. The timing could not be a coincidence.

“Teresa, what is it?”

“Can you do some research for me this morning?”

“Yeah, I suppose. On what?”

I told him, and he listened without interrupting—without expression, too, which worried me. If he was angry that I’d kept this from him, I couldn’t tell. “I’ll get anything I can on the facility and investigation,” he said after a blank-faced silence.

“Thank you.”

“Now or after breakfast?”

“We’ll talk to the others after breakfast, but if I don’t see Dr. Seward now, I probably won’t go.”

“Why not?”

“Because whenever we talk about my powers, I feel like a specimen under a microscope.”

Gage squeezed my thigh. “He’s trying to help, Teresa. He really does care.”

“I know he does, which is why I’ll endure his litany of questions and personal poking.” I grinned. “You want to come? You helped cure me, after all.”

“Pass.”

“Chicken.”

“I prefer the term
wuss
.”

We laughed. One more kiss, and I hopped out of bed. Time to make medical history with Dr. Seward: “Blindness Cured by Hot Monkey Sex.” The title alone would make that paper a bestseller.

I ran into Dr. Seward around the corner from the ICU. Really. We collided with enough force to send me flailing backward
onto my ass. I hit the floor with a thud. A sharp jolt sailed up my spine and made my stomach seize. The stack of X rays in his hands went flying and scattered across the linoleum with a sound like splashing water.

“You do sneak about, don’t you?” Dr. Seward said. He bent over me and hovered directly in my line of sight. “Are you all right? Can you stand?”

“I’ve had worse spills. Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Not a full night in thirty years.”

“Must be hell on your REM patterns.”

He offered his good hand—the other was wrapped up in an Ace bandage, something I hadn’t been clued in to last night during my blind spell—and hauled me to my feet. He had a firm grip for someone his age, which I could only guess at, somewhere between fifty and sixty. Seemed impolite to ask. I helped him gather up his X rays.

“What are you doing running around like that, Trance? I—” He stopped and seemed to really see me. “Is your vision back? What happened?”

“Actually, that’s what I was coming to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

I picked up a film that looked like someone’s elbow and handed it over. He shuffled them around, trying to create some semblance of order and hide his curious glances. I felt them, and I heard a hundred unasked questions. The scientist in him was showing remarkable restraint.

“Can we talk about this in private, instead of the hall?”

“Certainly.”

He stood, still organizing his X rays, and walked in the
direction I had been heading before our collision, his temporary office. He’d installed himself in one of the labs. It had counter-height tables instead of a desk, and storage boxes were scattered over most of them. He offered me the room’s only seat—a backless swivel stool. I declined and perched on the edge of a lab table.

“Did you have another episode this morning?” he asked as he placed his stack of X rays on top of a box. “An expulsion of power?”

“Not exactly. Well, maybe in a way, yes, but …” God, this was embarrassing. “Hell, Gage and I had sex.”

If it was truly possible for a man’s eyes to bug out of his head, that’s what Dr. Seward’s did. He stared at me like a frightened animal, caught between fight or flight. I didn’t blink, sure that I would blush to the roots of my hair if I reacted to his shock, and I couldn’t help a small amount of pride in shutting him up like that.

“Did you, ah, come here for a gynecological exam, because that’s not really—?”

“No!” Laughter bubbled up, and I waved my hands in the air. “No, that’s not—no offense, Doc, but you wouldn’t have been my first choice, even if it’s why I was here. I’m here because we figured it out, or at least, we figured out one way of doing it.”

“Doing what?” He asked the question as if dreading the answer.

“Cleaning my filter.”

He blanched and went a little green.

“Hey, you came up with the air filter analogy. Fact is, I was
completely blind six hours ago, and I can see perfectly this morning. No color fade, no vision loss, just normal. I thought you’d be interested.”

“I—” It came out high-pitched, so he cleared his throat and started again. “I am interested, Trance, just surprised. I didn’t expect this particular conversation.”

“Neither did I, trust me. But I was thinking about what you said, about how my body uses what it needs and stores the rest. Maybe I just need to burn up that excess energy. If I redirect it into some sort of strenuous physical exertion, I can avoid those nova eruptions and potentially killing myself. I’d really prefer to not die, if it can be avoided.”

“It’s a good theory, Trance. One we can’t test right away. However, you may be correct, and I highly doubt your recovery has anything to do with the presence of seminal fluids.” His deadpan delivery made me laugh. “Change in vision seems to be your primary symptom, and we know that prolonged use of your powers causes it to occur.”

I bobbed my head, proud of being able to follow along. Prouder, in fact, that he had validated my theory. It was still a far cry from finding and stopping Specter, but I’d found a way to work around my powers, and it wasn’t a small thing. Maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

I latched onto my sprouting confidence, a little excited, and said, “So we just have to wait to test it again. I don’t know, maybe an hour on a treadmill could even help prevent the purple vision completely. It may not always be feasible to work in a quickie.”

“Sexual attraction is a powerful thing.” He smiled warmly,
almost fatherly. “Don’t discount its ability to heal, rather than hinder.”

“You sound like a self-help guru.”

He shook his head. “I’m just a man who’s seen too much. I honestly never thought I’d see the day when someone told me sex healed blindness.”

“You just aren’t having the right kind of sex, Doc.” Ew, okay, not going there. That time I did blush. As a teen, I’d missed out on the awkward parental sex talk but I bet it would’ve felt something like this.

“My wife and I do just fine.”

Wife? That was news. And I really didn’t need to start conjuring up any mental images of their sex life. “Anyway,” I said, “since I’ve got you, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything, as long as it has nothing to do with sex.”

“It doesn’t. I was curious about the HQ.” He nodded, and I took it as my cue to continue. “Why was it maintained all these years? No one knew why we lost our powers, so no one could have predicted they would come back.”

He sank deeper into his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together into a steeple. “Hope, I suppose. As far as I’m aware, the ATF had no reason to think you would ever be repowered. It’s one of the reasons MHC was disbanded and their agents reassigned. Some folks in the Department of Justice wanted to bulldoze this entire complex, to tear out that particular page of history and file it, but they objected vigorously and won.”

“Who’s they?”

“Rita McNally, Alexander Grayson, and a handful wealthy
supporters within the government. They raised quite the stink and the budget committee relented, allowing ATF to fund a considerably slashed budget for upkeep and maintenance. We’d hoped the Rangers would return to full strength one day, but none of us hoped to see it again in our lifetimes.”

“Agent Grayson? He fought for us?”

“He did.”

I didn’t like the idea of owing Grayson anything, especially the existence of our home base. He was a jackass who desperately needed advice in buying suits, but it looked like he was also one of our champions. “Does this mean I should thank him next time I see him?”

“I wouldn’t. The man’s head is big enough as it is.”

“Good point.”

Dr. Seward exhibited an admirable amount of spunk not seen during our previous engagements. He reminded me of an eccentric relative who makes fun of everyone after too many belts of whiskey.

“Trance, may I ask you a serious question?”

As if our conversation so far hadn’t been serious? “Sure.”

He seemed to struggle a moment, then said, “Do you think your relationship with Cipher will hinder your ability to function as this team’s leader?”

I hadn’t expected that to be his question, even though I’d asked it of myself quite a few times on the walk over—and not just about Gage. My other team members, too. As I grew closer to them, my ability to sacrifice their lives in the way I’d sacrificed Janel was slipping away.