Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (32 page)

“You could have been killed.”

“I wasn’t.”

Nothing I said was calming him down; in fact, he was only getting angrier. His cheeks had flushed and his hands trembled. “How the hell am I supposed to protect you when you rush off and leave me behind?”

“Protect me?” I stared at him, flabbergasted. “Gage, you’re not my bodyguard. I made a leadership decision. Period.”

So many things seemed to perch on the tip of his tongue, only to be beaten back. My irritation level was approaching critical. I needed sleep, a shower, a decent meal, and time to regroup—not Gage and his merry-go-round of emotional bottlenecks. Not now, not again. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stomped my foot. “Goddammit, will you just say whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He flared his nostrils, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. “The second reason,” he ground out.

“The what now?”

“The reasons I’ve held you at arm’s length, Teresa.”

Our conversation from the night before came thundering back. Reasons he’d kept me at an emotional distance, despite the way everything felt right when we were together. “You told me they didn’t matter anymore.”

“I lied, okay? I’m a big fat, fucking liar. Don’t you get it? My entire life I’ve lost every person I care about. My parents, my brother, my mentor, my foster brother. My buddy who got me into corrections died four months ago on the job, killed by the same kids who almost killed me. Hell, two of those kids died in a yard fight last month. I couldn’t save
any
of them.”

Moisture pooled in his silver-flecked eyes. I wanted to reach out and comfort him; his body language shouted at me to stay away. My trip to New York had scared him on some level I didn’t understand, because I didn’t know this part of him. But emotional barricades were finally coming down—hopefully for good—and I had to let them crumble.

“Do you know what I was doing the night we repowered, Teresa?”

I had no idea what he’d been doing and couldn’t recall ever entertaining the question. He’d mentioned the painful repowering in passing, but not his whereabouts immediately before. Poised on the edge of telling me, I almost told him not to. The tone of his voice as he barked his rhetorical question said I wasn’t going to like the answer.

He swallowed hard and continued. “I’d given up my apartment, given away my possessions. I was down to the things in my suitcase, and I was sitting in my car with a handgun I’d bought off a street dealer the night before. It had one bullet.”

My stomach soured. I definitely didn’t want to hear this—barely could over the dull roar in my ears. My heart slammed against my ribs. Hot tears stung my eyes.

“I was done,” he said in a hollow voice. “Sick of being hurt, sick of burying people, sick of never feeling complete. Just … finished. The last straw had come the week before. I was helping my landlord clean out an abandoned apartment and found a pile of old newspapers. One of them had your mug shot right on the front page, below the fold. I hadn’t seen you in half a lifetime, but I knew you.”

Heat flamed in my cheeks. “You knew I’d been in jail.”

He nodded. “You saved me that day in Central Park, when you Tranced me. I was so scared and you made me brave. Then we lost our powers, and I let everyone be separated. We all suffered, and to find out you’d been so close for so long … that I could have done something to help you … I failed you like I failed everyone else.”

Emotion clogged my throat. I couldn’t seem to breathe.

He swallowed hard, eyes focused on the floor. “So I was sitting there with the hammer back and ready to do it, debating between my mouth or temple. I looked up and dared God to stop me. Told Him I needed to know I still had something out there to live for, because I was sick of death and misery. I asked for the chance to protect and save one person, just one life to prove it wasn’t all pointless.

“Know what happened next?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice, my heart aching for him.

“Nothing. So I put the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.”

My insides quaked as the weight of the admission sank in. His pain had driven him to fire with intent. He’d wanted to die. The tears spilled over, blazing down my cheeks.

Gage snorted, the choked sound almost a sob. “It didn’t fire. The goddamn gun jammed. I was so furious I decided to try St. John’s Bridge, instead. Halfway there is when it happened. I didn’t really understand that my powers were coming back until the streetlights blinded me and a horn deafened me.

“When I got it under control, I skipped the bridge and started driving. I chose south. Then my Vox beeped, and it felt like I was going the right way for once. I stopped at a motel outside of Bakersfield, and on my way to grab dinner at a truck stop diner, I heard voices. Then my Vox beeped again and there you were.” His voice softened with a hint of awe. “You, Teresa, of all the people it could have been. It made me so ashamed of what I’d done.”

Breaking to pieces in front of me, he finally lifted his head to meet my gaze. Twin tears tracked down his cheeks, into the collar of his shirt. “It sounds corny, I know, but you were my sign, Teresa. My one last save. I just meant to be your friend and protect you, and then I started feeling things….” He blanched, the words gone.

I didn’t know what to say, or how to process so much stark truth. All of the pain that had driven him to such a desperate place, to try and take his own life—no, not try. He’d meant to succeed; only dumb luck had saved him.

“Gage, you got what you asked for,” I said, throat clogged with something I couldn’t simply swallow away. “You did save me, just by being with me. If you hadn’t found me in Bakersfield, we each would have been alone when Specter attacked, just like the others. We’d probably both be dead, along with Renee and Ethan and Marco, and now Specter would be laughing through his victory.”

I took his hand and squeezed. I hated being his reason for doing anything, especially living. It was too much responsibility. He’d gotten his wish; it had to be enough. “You saved me, Gage. You fulfilled your end. You can stop trying to save me now and just be with me while we have time.”

His expression closed off for a moment, leaving no clues as to his thoughts. I knew that look too well.

“Stop shutting me out,” I said. “Not now, when you’re finally letting me in. Do I really have to tell you that everything you told me stays here? I’m not judging you.”

Surprise finally demolished the wall, and I saw a depth of emotion in his eyes I’d never seen before. Calm settled over
him. His tears had dried. He seemed to have reached a silent bargain with himself and his wrenching confession. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he said.

“And I’m sorry you were so worried, truly sorry, but I don’t regret going. Psystorm would have been freaked out by a whole squad of us showing up to retrieve him. He actually seems to respect me more for going alone. He’s on our side.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because of his son, Gage. We talked about a lot of things during the ride back, and one thing I trust is his love for Caleb. He’ll do anything to provide a good life for his son, including helping us. He has no standing loyalty to Specter or anyone else on the island.”

“What about the kid’s mom?”

“All he would say about her is that she’s ill. Figuring out who she is shouldn’t be too hard. Only twenty-one of the Banes were female, and Caleb is obviously of Asian descent.”

I filled Gage in on everything Psystorm said about Specter, the fires in Maryland, and his involvement in those final battles. Even though the information would be hashed and rehashed later, I needed Gage to support me when we talked to Renee, Marco, and Ethan. He had to understand that this was our only option.

“You have a fail-safe for his collar?” he asked. Figured of all the things I’d said, he focused on that.

“Yes, Gage, I have a fail-safe.” I patted the pocket next to my Vox. “But I truly don’t think I’ll need to use it.”

He stepped closer and took my other hand. “I know you
don’t, and that’s why you need it. If Specter somehow takes over Psystorm, we’ll need the fail-safe to put them down.”

“I just hope we can keep Psystorm a secret from Specter. Not like I’ve got a clue how to do it.” And if we truly had a mole among us, he probably knew already. Damn it. “How’s Renee doing?”

“She’s quiet, mostly. I think she’s projecting her anger onto Dahlia. She’s been pretty rude, even for Renee.”

“She’s grieving. She’ll come around.” I leaned my hip against the sink, wishing I had something to do with my hands. Damned uniform needed pockets. “How about Dahlia?”

“Adjusting. Dr. Seward had her over here for a few hours, testing out her abilities. She can absorb an awesome amount of heat. He thinks she can learn to push the heat back out, use it kind of like an expulsion of force.”

“Did she say anything about being able to do this before?”

“No, but she would have been five years old back then. I doubt the powers had manifested yet.” He took a few steps forward. His hand lifted, as though to touch me, then fell back to his side. Concern shone in his expression. “How are you doing?”

“No side effects, or purple vision.”

“Good to know, but that’s not what I meant.”

Of course it wasn’t. “I’m angry. I keep telling myself I can’t let anger get in the way of good judgment. I’m tired, but I don’t feel like I have time to rest. I’m so sick of being afraid that I want to crawl under a rock and forget all of this exists. More than anything, I’m …” Something blocked the words. They seemed selfish.

“What?”

I didn’t respond. The words wouldn’t come. He dipped his head and a hundred emotions—all usually so blocked off from me—seared through his kiss. Things spoken and kept silent, secrets revealed and past pains let loose. I responded gently, not allowing it to deepen. His admission still rang in my head—it would take a lot longer than five minutes to absorb. And we still had people counting on us. On me.

He sensed my hesitation and pulled back, hands loosely framing my cheeks. “What is it?”

“I’m scared, Gage. Scared of failing again and getting the rest of you killed.”

His eyebrows knotted. “You didn’t fail William.”

“Didn’t I? I let him stay in there and die.”

“He chose to stay behind. William understood the risks, and he knew it was the only way to get the rest of us out safely.”

“I should have tried something else.” My fists ached. I unclenched them, then stepped back. Away from Gage. The tears were back, and I tried to force them away. “I should have saved him for her.” I was crying anyway, damn it.

I couldn’t do this, and damn the Wardens anyway for putting me in this position. For giving me powers I didn’t want and making me responsible for lives I couldn’t save. For proving I’d never live up to the legacy my father left behind. A sob choked me, and I gave in to the grief. “He promised Renee a date and now he’ll never take her, and I should have brought him home, like I brought you home. I failed. I’ll always fail.”

“You’ve succeeded more than you’ve failed,” he said quietly.

The last thing I wanted was for him to make me feel better—to make this failure smaller than it was. “Don’t patronize me, Gage. Not ever.”

“I’m not. But you can’t save everyone, Teresa.”

The sincerity in his words enraged me in a way I couldn’t control. I wanted my grief, damn it. I wanted to be allowed to wallow in this misery for two goddamn minutes. Alone. My hands clenched into tight fists.

“I can’t save everyone?” Falling back on old habits, I said the one thing I knew would push him away: “Look who’s talking.”

He backed off. Anger flickered in his eyes briefly, followed by hurt, then was gone. Switched off and put away and I felt like shit for having said it. “Don’t you ever fucking throw that in my face,” he growled, then spun on his heel and stormed out of the bathroom.

The bang of the door shutting echoed for a long time as I sat alone and cried.

The fight left my nerves frayed and my stomach queasy, and I needed to get my mind off it. To calm down so I could figure out how to apologize. I needed to do something, so I headed to the fourth floor of Medical. The majority of activity seemed to be happening there, so it was my best source for a distraction.

Familiar voices from one of the patient rooms slowed my pace.

“Is this really a good idea?”

“You will not know unless you try.”

“That sounded way more ominous than I bet you intended.”

“One attempt,
por favor
?”

I slipped up to the door and peeked inside. It was empty of equipment, furnished only by two metal folding chairs. Marco sat in one, awkwardly holding a box of matches between his chest and sling with one unlit match in his good hand. Dahlia stood a few feet from him, hands clenched by her sides, dressed in a set of extra-baggy sweats. She’d cleaned up since the fire and seemed less flighty, more in control.

Neither noticed me lurking in the doorway. Marco struck the match; the red tip flared and ignited. Dahlia’s face pinched. The flame went out with a tiny tail of smoke.

“Crap,” she said.

Marco took another match from the small pile on his lap. “Try again.” He struck it.

The flame burned. Flickered. Extinguished. Four more matches met the same end. I started to break my silence and ask what they were trying to accomplish.

“Are you only drawing the heat to you, or are you attempting to connect to it first?” Marco asked. “To truly feel the energy?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “How do I do that?”

“I am uncertain. My powers are quite different.”

I stepped full into the room. “When you feel the heat of the flame, imagine it as an extension of yourself,” I said, startling them both. “Make it part of you, like another limb you can control.”

Dahlia’s startled expression quickly melted into determination. “I can do that.”

“It’s how I work with my orbs.”

Marco struck a match. This time, Dahlia raised her right hand and extended it toward the flame. Concentrated. It flickered. Shrank. It seemed to go out, then flared back to life. Shrank again. Flared again. She repeated the activity until the fire crept too close to Marco’s fingers. Then she extinguished the flame completely.