Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (19 page)

“I’m not down any longer than overnight. I’ve got a bruise, nothing life-threatening. And I don’t see frostbite keeping Marco down for long.”

“He can’t shift with broken fingers.”

“He’s not useless just because he can’t use his power.”

“I’m not saying he is, Gage. I’d just feel better if the team was together, instead of split up across the continent. Specter has shown he can get at us anywhere, at any time. I don’t want us apart anymore.”

“Okay.”

I studied his face; he gave away nothing. “Was that ‘okay, I agree,’ or ‘okay, I’m done arguing’?”

“Okay, I agree. And I’m not challenging your decisions, I just want to understand them.” He shifted over in the bed. “Come here and sit for a minute. You look like you’re ready to collapse.”

My gaze flickered to the empty spot next to him, still lingering with his body heat. I stood and walked over, the soles of my shoes softly squeaking against the linoleum tile. He lifted his arm. I slid up against his side, crossed my legs at the ankle, and rested my head on his shoulder. He didn’t react, even though I had to reek.

“Do you ever get the feeling Specter is playing with us?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it, Gage, about today. Once he had Frost under his control, he could have devastated us. Dr. Seward was helpless, but Specter didn’t kill him. Specter could have killed Marco immediately, frozen his lungs or something. He tortured him instead. Frost’s powers could have destroyed the entire building within minutes.”

“Maybe Specter isn’t as strong as we think.”

“Or he’s testing us.” More and more, that felt like the logical explanation. If Specter truly wanted us dead, Gage and I would not have been alive to discuss it. “He’s testing the limits of our powers.”

“To what end, though?”

“Therein lies the mystery.” And the challenge. Unless Specter didn’t destroy the building because he was inside it, on the grounds somewhere—no. It was an impossible scenario. Someone, Seward at the very least, should have recognized him if he was lurking around.

We didn’t talk for several minutes, content in each other’s company. For a little while, at any rate. Long silences made me nervous and left too much time for thinking.

I twined my fingers around his left hand and squeezed. “Tell me something about Portland.”

He tilted his head, seeming to ponder the question. “The Portland Art Museum is one of the five largest in the country.”

“Not the city, Gage, about you.” I stopped myself before I elbowed him in the stomach—an instinctual reaction that would have caused him no small amount of pain.

“You asked about Portland, not me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell me something about when you lived in Portland. Why’d you leave St. Louis and move there?”

His silence worried me, even though his posture never changed. More than once, I started to twist around and get a look at his face. Some indication of what he was thinking. I stayed put, convinced he’d eventually ask me to leave. I’d crossed some invisible line into a part of his personal life he didn’t want to share. Not that he’d shared much.

“I grew up as lost as you did,” Gage said, allaying my fears of dismissal. “My instinct to help people was still there, but not the means to do so. I missed Jasper, and I didn’t have a lot of friends, so I was really protective of the ones I did. One of the guys I knew from St. Louis ended up in Portland. He got into some trouble, so he called me one day and begged for help.”

“You moved halfway across the country to help a friend?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

I wanted to say yes. I had been friendly with some of my foster families, friendly with kids in school, friendly with coworkers. None of them were people I’d consider friends.
The best friends I’d ever known were the five Metas who’d come screaming back into my life last week. I’d do anything for them.

“I like to think I would,” I said.

“You would.” He stroked my hair with a featherlight touch. “You’ve overtaken me, Teresa. How’d you do that?”

“Pheromones?”

He didn’t laugh at my intended humor—again. I needed to work on my jokes. Tension rippled through him, and I felt it easily beneath his thin hospital gown. “Do you think so?”

I sat up enough to meet his gaze and saw uncertainty there, shadowed by crushing sadness. He clearly didn’t want his reaction to me—and likewise mine to him—to be merely chemical, or a reaction of his hypersenses. It was in his eyes and in the firm set of his mouth, and in every action he’d taken toward me since we met at that truck stop. People were attracted to each other all the time for purely physical reasons. It certainly explained why my guard fell whenever I was around him.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. Truthful. “We’re both attractive people, and with your sense of smell it makes sense, right?”

He looked sad, almost frustrated. “Pheromones, huh?”

“It’s a theory.” Albeit one I didn’t want to be true.

“So let’s test your theory.”

I parted my lips to ask for clarification and his mouth covered mine. I recovered from the surprise of it and slanted my head, allowing him in. He hesitated a moment, then his tongue was stroking mine. He shifted and I fell back against
the pillow, allowing his body to press against me. I knew it was wrong—wrong time, wrong place, really wrong circumstances—but it felt right. My hands tangled in his short hair. His kisses left my mouth and traveled across my jaw to my throat. He nipped at my pulse point; I moaned.

No, this was more than pheromones.

He stopped and hovered above me, dilated eyes boring into me. Wanting more. “We should stop,” he said, breathless.

“Definitely.” I was filthy, he was wounded, and every part of me felt guilty for making out with him. Even if it would be a great distraction from the pain of Specter’s latest guerilla attack.

“You should make that phone call,” he said.

“I should. And then I have to let Dr. Seward know about my vision.”

He hugged me tight, his arms so strong and warm around my waist and shoulders. I didn’t want to leave his side, not even to do those two important things. I wanted to stay there and be selfish and not be alone if I exploded again.

I couldn’t stay. I was their leader. Not by any rational election process. I’d fallen into it. I had to think of my team first, which meant getting off my ass.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said. “If that’s okay.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good, because I’m getting used to spending the night with you.”

He held me tighter and kissed the top of my head. I sat a moment longer, then drifted to sleep knowing I should be doing something else.

W
hoa, sorry!”

Renee’s voice roused me from the fog of sleep. She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her entire image colored a strange shade of fuchsia—quite a sight, since her skin was already blue. Behind me, Gage stirred.

Reality caught up to my brain, and I had the sense to ask, “When the hell did you get back?”

“Twenty minutes ago,” she said. “Dr. Seward called, told us what happened, so we had the ATF jet bring us back right away. Marco is up and about, and we’re having a late dinner–slash–early breakfast in a few minutes. Thought you’d like to come down and, ah, discuss stuff.”

“Thanks, we’ll be down shortly.”

She seemed poised to go, then surprised me by coming to the bed with long-legged strides and hugging me fiercely. “Sorry about Janel,” she whispered. “That sucks ass in the worst way.”

I returned the awkward embrace. “Thanks.” She retreated to the door and continued to linger. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, how is he?”

Gage groaned.

I wanted to throw a pillow at her, but having none at hand, settled for a terse, “Get out.”

She winked and pulled the door shut.

“She does realize,” Gage said, “that we’re both fully clothed and in a small hospital bed, right?”

“Well, I’m fully clothed,” I said, picking at his gown. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“Fell asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re human, Teresa, I’m sure you needed the rest.”

“MetaHuman, technically.”

“Whatever.” He turned my head so I was looking into his eyes; I tried to smile. “How’s your vision?”

“Still purple.” I sighed. “Good news is, I didn’t go nova like last time. And no cramps, either. Maybe it will clear up without a crazy lights display.”

He nodded, unconvinced. Something indecipherable played in his speckled eyes. “Can I buy a lady dinner?”

I grinned. “Aren’t you supposed to do that before you sleep with me?”

“I’m a nonconformist.”

“Think Dr. Seward will let you out of bed?”

“He will if I don’t tell him.”

“Then, let’s do dinner.”

Marco, Renee, and William were halfway through their meals by the time we arrived. I’d had trouble finding clean
clothes for Gage, so I ran back to his room for something less revealing than his open-backed gown. I also took a few minutes to brush my hair, my teeth, wash my face, and change my clothes. A long, hot shower was definitely in my near future.

I sat down while Gage fetched twin plates from the room’s food counter. It looked like sandwiches and hot soup. Strange meal until I looked at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost midnight. I’d slept longer than I thought.

Marco picked at the crusts of his sandwich, his glowing green eyes dulled. Pain, maybe, or painkillers. Red blisters left an angry trail down the left side of his face; both hands were still wrapped in white gauze, and three fingers on his left hand were taped together and splinted. Some leader I was, napping away while he and Ethan were in Medical.

Gage deposited my plate and sat down beside me. I stirred my soup. Guilt had stolen my appetite.

“Any news on Ethan?” I asked.

“Sedated, but stronger,” William said. “I checked on him as soon as we got back. He’s tough for a skinny Irishman.”

Renee dipped a crust of bread into her tomato soup. “We also took a look at the battle site.” Her wan smile reiterated her earlier sentiment—it sucked ass. “Your powers acting up again?”

“They’re fine.”

Gage fisted his fork; he knew I was lying. Oh well. I was not elaborating on the problem—not when we were one man down and unsure when or where Specter might strike next.

“How about you guys?” I asked. “Any luck figuring out
how the wrong person was kept imprisoned for fifteen years, while Specter was running loose?”

William shook his head. “According to the guards, they don’t do sight checks unless one of the collars malfunctions. After Specter’s collar was checked in that first day, he became persona incognita. His collar never malfunctioned, so no one thought a thing of it. About forty of the prisoners weren’t seen until recently, when they did spot checks on everyone.”

“Spot checks weren’t done regularly?” Gage asked, incredulity arching his eyebrows and some measure of accusation in his tone. Accusation toward whom, I didn’t know. Certainly couldn’t be William.

“Manhattan Island is huge,” Renee replied before William could. “As long as they stayed quietly among themselves, the guards didn’t want to bother with them.”

Gage grunted, unmollified by the response. “And the guy impersonating Specter? What’s his story?” he asked, directing the question at William.

“He doesn’t have one,” William said. “Someone cut his tongue out years ago. They kept him fed, only he’s mentally not together. He doesn’t know his own name, so I don’t think he’d pick anyone out as the person or persons who kept him.”

“That’s damned convenient.”

It was, but that was hardly William’s fault, as Gage seemed hell bent on assigning blame in that direction. What was the cliché? Don’t shoot the messenger. “So someone else on the island knew Specter was out,” I said. “And they deliberately kept up the ruse that he was there.”

“There’s another possibility, you know,” William said. “It’s
possible someone from the MHC knows he was never arrested. And I don’t just mean the dead guy who collared him.”

“You mean someone with influence.” The possibility hadn’t directly crossed my mind until now, and I felt stupid for not entertaining it sooner. I looked at William. “You don’t trust McNally or Grayson, do you?”

“Right this minute?” He shook his head. “Except for Ethan, I don’t trust any person not sitting at this table.”

Renee reached out and squeezed his hand. Their eyes met. A moment passed between them, something spoken with silence and a look. They’d bonded during their trip east. Maybe more if Renee’s playful nature had shined through. I glanced at Gage, who was staring at them with a queer expression—something warring between amusement and … jealousy?

He caught me looking and cleared his throat. “So what would the ATF, or anyone else for that matter, have to gain by keeping Specter out of jail?” Gage asked.

I pointed my spoon at him. “Precisely.”

“Does anyone even know his real name?” Renee asked. “Anything at all about him other than he’s a damned coward who attacks through others, instead of showing his own face?”

I shook my head. “No, that just about covers it, Renee.”

“And Specter’s real name is not on record,” William said. “At least nothing I could find. Even the Banes they questioned in Manhattan didn’t know who he was.”

“Or wouldn’t admit it,” Renee said.

“Knowing he’s still out there is a good incentive to keep your mouth shut.”

“Good points,” I said. “Nothing Specter has done so far is random. He’s had a long time to plan this. He knew enough to find most of us, and kill some of us before we could even assemble. It’s like he’s feeling us out, getting an idea of our threat level. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Specter knew something about why we all got our powers back.”

Four sets of eyes stared at me. “What?” I asked. “It’s not so big a leap.”

“No, it’s not,” William said. He pushed his plate away and folded his meaty hands on top of the table. “Look, I didn’t get shipped across the country like you guys. They fostered me to a big family out in Long Beach, so I’ve been around the city my whole life. Watching it change and shrink and die, get minutely better and infinitely worse. I’ve watched everything around this HQ go to shit, while it never changed. Doesn’t it bother you guys how good a shape this entire facility was still in when we got here?”