Heart of Annihilation (19 page)

“Mr. Coy.” I nodded.

He arched an eyebrow as he waited for me to say something else. When I didn’t, he dropped his hand.

“It’s
Xavier
Coy,” he said.

“You want me to call you Xavier?”

“I’m just wondering if you know who I am?”

“Sure. The guy who loaned me his trailer and his personal physician,” I said. “Thanks, by the way.”

Even that much gratitude stuck in my throat. Xavier shifted his weight to one leg, and I was struck with an odd sense of uncertainty coming from someone who otherwise seemed to have everything together. Then it came to me. The hair, the voice, and that annoying aura of the untouchable celebrity—of course, Xavier Coy!

“I remember who you are now,” I said, recalling the lame date I’d gone on a lifetime ago. Xavier took a step back. His smile faded. “I saw you in that one movie once. Um,
The Omniscient Observer.
Definitely two stars in my book but my date liked it.”

His shoulders dropped, and he exhaled. The toothy smile returned. Clearly he’d expected me to say something else.

Traitor.
The harsh whisper made me look up and around. I pushed Thurmond’s hand off my waist.

“Rose?”

I jerked back around to face Xavier. Hatred flared in my chest. My cheeks grew hot. His smiling mouth was moving, saying something to me while his gaze was directed somewhere over my left shoulder. A perfect moment. A perfect target. Who could stop me? Why would they think they needed to? Electricity shivered into my fingertips.

“Rose.” Thurmond repeated my name right in my ear. He might as well have stabbed me in the side. A crackle of electricity leapt from my hand into my thigh with a sizzle. I gave a tiny squawk. The anger and hatred, so poignant moments ago, vanished in a sickening wave.

“Ow. What?” I pressed my hand above my ear. The ache in my head thudded away. “What do you want?”

Thurmond’s eyebrows lowered. Xavier Coy paused. When I finally looked at him his eyes tightened.

“I was saying, Miss Rose, that
The Omniscient Observer
is one of my favorites. A real classic, if I do say so myself.” His grin looked forced, and he went on with a hint of reciprocal dislike. “The critics gave it five stars, not two, and I was even nominated for an Oscar in the role of Davis Clay.”

Xavier beckoned to someone behind me. Angie strode up with a veritable army of people carrying items ranging from trays of food and hangers of clothing to stacks of papers and folders. I was shunted to the side as the people surrounded Xavier, asking him to sign this and approve that. He answered with confidence, often giving orders or speaking harshly to someone who seemed to have done his or her job less than perfect. Fascinating, and a bit disgusting.

I stepped back to avoid being trampled, until I bumped into someone. Pain jarred through my shoulder. I blinked up at Thurmond.

“Come on.” He held a tray of food. “Let’s get away from this circus.”

Thurmond’s hand supported me at the small of my back as we made our way up the steps of the Winnebago, escaping Xavier’s entourage.

I slid onto the soft leather couch behind the table with a tired groan. Thurmond placed the tray on the table and sat to my left. His arm relaxed on the seat back, and he leaned in to take the lid off the food.

“Thanks.” I picked up a black plastic fork, examining the food in front of me: curls of bean sprouts amid a mystery meat and other veggies. I grimaced. Hollywood health garbage. I stabbed a piece of broccoli, smelled it, and put it in my mouth. Not bad. Of course, just because I was hungry enough to eat tofu didn’t necessarily mean it was good. I ate in silence before striking up the conversation again. “What do you think of Mr. Coy? You’ve probably talked to him more than I have.”

“I haven’t, actually,” Thurmond picked out a bean sprout and stuck it in his mouth. “He asked me a few personal questions, but he seems more interested in you.”

“Why? Because I’m so alien?” My sarcasm annoyed even me.

“Maybe because you needed medical care, and I knew you best.”

“Or thought you did—”

“Give me a break, Rose. Stop acting all misunderstood. Do you
want
me to treat you differently?”

“It’s easy for you to say.” I pushed the bowl away and fingered the tines of the fork. “If I kept telling you that you were some—some mass murderer from another dimension, you might get up in arms too.”

“Well, let’s say for a moment it’s true,” Thurmond said. I opened my mouth to protest. He held up a hand. “That’s not who you are now, is it?”

I folded my arms across my chest and examined the table. Of course that wasn’t who I was. I nodded slowly, and then shook my head.

There’s just that little matter of those homicidal tendencies,
Caz snickered. I clenched my eyes and rubbed my temple, wondering if driving the fork into my eye would shut her up.

“And I’ll finish signing those in twenty minutes, Angie.” I opened my eyes. Xavier backed up the steps. “No, make sure we’re ready for the shoot and I’ll talk to you after lunch. And Ang, send Dr. Tolman right in when he arrives.”

He slammed the door and turned to face us. “Being me can be so exhausting!”

I glared. Phony bleached grin. Phony tan. He didn’t take off his sunglasses and, compounded with the other things Thurmond told me about him, I was struck with a sudden suspicion. I watched him carefully as he made his way up the stairs, adjusted a picture on the wall, and peeked at his reflection in a mirrored cupboard. He pulled something out of his pocket, and with a rapid flick of his wrist he showed me exactly what I was watching for.

“You’re a Rethan!” I said.

Xavier’s hand gave a startled jerk. The accusation colored the air between us.

“Now hold on, Rose—” Thurmond started to say.

Xavier’s lips tightened, and he slowly removed his sunglasses. Silver, Rethan eyes, with barely a pinprick of pupil in the center. “As are you, Miss Rose.”

Thurmond slid away from me and stood as though an enemy had presented itself.

“You guys just keep popping up, don’t you?” I lounged back, my muscles tense.

“Why do you think I was so interested in your personal medical care?” Xavier’s tone took a sour edge. “I didn’t like the idea of being outed by you.”

“Or maybe we know each other from Retha.”

“Of course we don’t.” Xavier dropped his eyes.

“You’re lying,” I said.

“So you’re both Rethan. Who cares?” Thurmond held his hands up between us as though we might start brawling. It wasn’t far from my mind. “There’s got to be at least as many of you guys in Retha as there are in Earth. What are the chances you two actually know each other?”

“Because he’s lying.” He was
so
lying. I knew him from somewhere, and it wasn’t from another stupid movie.

“I think you should listen to your friend, Miss Rose.” Xavier lifted between two fingers what he’d pulled out of his pocket moments ago, giving me a clear view of a white business card. Half of it was stained brown, but the small black lettering on the one side was clearly visible.

“This was found in the pocket of your pants.” He set it on the edge of the table and stepped back to sprawl on the couch across from me. He crossed his legs and curled a lock of hair around his finger. “I thought maybe you could explain it.”

I picked it up. Mud had been wiped off the border, and a bloody fingerprint covered the words.

Dimensional Liaison Agency
Special Agent Jim Wichman
703-555-0236

My breath caught. Dimensional Liaison Agency would be DLA for short.
The
DLA? And Wichman was a part of it? A shadow crossed the card, and I didn’t have to look up to know Thurmond was reading it also.

“Do you want to tell me, Miss Rose, why you have a contact in the DLA?” Xavier’s voice was cool. “I was under the impression, thanks to Boderick, that you’ve only just been made aware of the fact you’re Rethan.”

“I don’t—I mean, I did—I mean . . .” I recalled the memory surfacing in the desert, the one about Dad going to the DLA when I was young. This little acronym was associated with abandonment in my book. I narrowed my eyes at Xavier. “You know what this Dimensional Liaison Agency is?”

“Every Rethan in Earth knows who they are.” He studied his fingernails, flicked something off his pants, and returned my look. “For those sentenced,” he gestured at me. I scowled. “They take care of the infant RAGE inmates and make sure they get into the foster care system. They also watch them throughout their lives, and eliminate them should they show signs of memory recall or violent tendencies. For those of us here under our own volition—the denigrated entrepreneurs—they are tasked to track us and make sure we do not cause any problems. They are a specialized dimensional police force for the Third Dimension. Human, and ruthlessly dedicated to protecting Earth.”

“Sergeant Wichman must’ve been undercover.” I tossed the card on the table and massaged my left temple. “He must’ve been watching the commander.”

“Why would he watch the commander?” Thurmond asked. His eyes hardened. I could tell he suspected what I already knew.

“She’s a Rethan. A renegade of some sort.” I rubbed the card with my thumb and forefinger.

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told me. She said she knew me from Retha. She also took my pendant. Said it was a key or something. Then I remember her saying something about being close to finding the Heart of—something or another—” A warm glowing orb and a bloody knife tugged at my memory.

A loud thump shattered the image. Xavier was on his feet. His face sagged.

“What?” he whispered.

I sat back and folded my arms. What was this mysterious Heart the commander was willing to kill over? And what did Xavier Coy know about it?

“You obviously heard me. The question is, what does that mean to you?” I slid out of my seat. My fingers tingled. I felt lightheaded.

“Nothing. Why would that mean anything to . . . don’t be ridiculous—”

“Don’t give me that!”

“When did you talk to the commander?” Thurmond asked. His arm brushed mine.

“Right before Sergeant Wichman left us for dead.”

“He did what?”

“Well, he said he was coming back.”

“So this Agent Wichman is not your friend?” Xavier cut in.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“He left us for dead, of course he’s not!” Thurmond slammed his fist on the table.

“He left the card. He had to have some motive for that,” Xavier argued.

“Everyone shut up for a minute!” I held up a hand. The lights flickered.

Thurmond and Xavier stopped talking. Xavier glanced around at the lights. Thurmond stared hard at me.

“Okay, now here are the facts. One: the commander is looking for something called the Heart, which Mr. Coy will be explaining to us in a minute. Two: Sergeant Wichman needs to be contacted to find out if he knows where the commander has taken Marshal Rannen; and three—”

“Rannen? Rannen’s gone? He was taken? Is he all right?” The tan leaked away from Xavier’s face. A dirty gray took its place.

“Okay, rewind. Mr. Coy will be explaining two things to us—what the Heart is
and
what he knows about Marshal Rannen.”

“I’m just concerned this
commander
might do something to a fellow Rethan, that’s all.” Xavier’s sputtering wouldn’t have convinced his most brain-dead fan.

“And the Heart?”

Xavier’s hands trembled, and he folded them together to hide it. “If I even thought that . . . if anyone were to find . . . no, there’s no way. No way. I don’t know anything about this.”

I opened my mouth to call the movie star a big, fat liar.

“Wait a second,” Thurmond interrupted. “Why the hell do you need to know all this, Rose?”

Do humans not understand loyalty?

I dug a knuckle into my aching temple. This had nothing to do with loyalty.

Call the DLA and ask them for Rannen’s file. Or your file. Don’t you want to know who you are?

Sure. Ask them for a bunch of files. The DLA didn’t even technically exist. And even if I did get some files, what would they tell me? Information about Rannen? Or what about the truth behind Dad’s involvement with Retha?

Is it about finding Rannen, or your father?

I rubbed my eyes. It took a moment before I realized Thurmond and Xavier were staring at me with contradicting expressions.

“I need to talk to Sergeant Wichman,” I said.

“Rose, you almost died. If you think I’m going to let you—” Thurmond took a step in my direction.

“Let me?” I jabbed my finger in Thurmond’s chest. It hurt to breathe.

I understood that my reaction was wrong, my attack on Thurmond one person off. I couldn’t rein in the anger. The lights hummed a blinding white. Bulbs exploded in a shower of sparks. Thurmond bumped against the counter behind him.

“Caz, that’s enough!” Xavier’s voice pushed against the rage.

The shrill, humorless laugh inside my head diminished to an echo across an expansive chasm.

My breathing was loud in my ears and I found I was kneeling, my eyes on the carpet. The cream-colored fibers looked like fluffy little soldiers standing in formation.

“Rose? Are you okay?”

“Of course she’s not okay. She’s insane.”

“She’s not insane. She was just given too much of that damn serum.” A shadow crossed my carpet soldiers. “Rose?”

Thurmond crouched beside me. His eyes were concerned but not angry.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t worry about it. Can you stand?”

A tiny flinch marred his face when he took my arm, but at least I didn’t electrocute him. I allowed him to pull me to my feet and lead me over to a couch, where I collapsed. I smoothed my hair with shaking fingers.

Xavier watched me with narrowed eyes. One hand hid his mouth. I looked between the two faces but stopped on Xavier.

“Mr. Coy, could I borrow your phone?”

“You planning to order pizza or something?” Thurmond’s mouth set in a hard line.

“No, I’m calling Sergeant Wichman.”

“Why?”

“To find the commander.” I’d held onto the secret about Dad so long, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Thurmond about it even now. But if I were really honest with myself, at this moment I wanted to find Rannen almost as much as Dad, even if I didn’t completely understand why.