Metawars: The Complete Series: Trance, Changeling, Tempest, Chimera (82 page)

“What are you doing?” Teresa asked “me.”

“I’m thirsty,” Aaron said, and damn, it was weird to hear his voice coming out of “my” mouth. Aside from the host absorption ability, a Changeling like Aaron could also touch someone and borrow their appearance; he called it a glamour, and the mirages were impossible to see through. Smell through, yes, because he’d never managed to fool Gage, and he couldn’t borrow a voice. Just the image.

The only way to completely become that person, right down to smell and voice, was to take them over. But that led to the absorption of the host’s memories and personality, and once a Changeling took someone, it was next to impossible to separate them without the physical death of the host. Marco was the only successful separation we’d seen, thanks to Simon’s psychic abilities.

Two months ago, Aaron had left a handful of old hosts behind in his quest to survive his own extermination. He swore none of them were truly, completely dead, because parts of them were still in his head, but I’d seen their discarded skins. Sometimes death is in the eyes of the beholder.

“So you came downstairs as me?” I asked. “I’m standing right here.”

“The new kids didn’t see me.”

“Not the point.”

“I” scowled. “Look, I’m already going to be stuck in my room for who knows how long, so give me a break. All I wanted was a soda.”

I scowled right back at myself while Aaron went about grabbing two chilled bottles out of the refrigerator.

“I’m sorry about the arrangements,” Teresa said, “but it’s become critical that Kate and Denny don’t see you.”

Aaron paused by the counter, one bottle in each hand. “Why?”

“They may have a deeper connection to Detective Pascal than we thought, and the last thing anyone needs is for him to suspect we’re hiding you here.”

The oddest thought struck me, and I directed it to Teresa and Gage. “Could that have been part of Pascal’s reasoning, do you think? Put people here he knows, get them help, and also let them spy for him?”

Teresa rubbed the bridge of her nose, while Gage sucked his lower lip in. Nervous, thoughtful gestures. Aaron shifted, agitation in both his posture and expression, and was that really what I looked like to other people?

“It’s possible, of course,” Teresa said. “But Pascal knows what our powers are, and he knows we’re not stupid. I can’t imagine he’d think he could ask two ex–college students to pull off that kind of scam right under our noses.”

Aaron’s glamour flickered—a sure sign of his anxiety. “All they’d need to have seen is one picture of Aaron Scott. Noah’s got a permanent hiding place, but I don’t.”

Sharing the body of one of my best friends wasn’t what I’d refer to as a hiding place, but I wasn’t going to tip his fear into anger by commenting. Aaron hadn’t wanted to stay in Los Angeles, but he’d remained here for his family—first because Dr. Kinsey was too injured to travel, and then because Dr. Kinsey and Noah had found a way to fit in. Aaron didn’t have that luxury. I got it, I did—even if he was still kind of an ass about it.

“I realize that,” Teresa said. “And I know it isn’t fair to keep you cooped up for however long it is the Lowrys will be here.” She fell silent, mulling something in her mind. I knew that look.

“What are you thinking?” Gage asked her.

“Simon called while you guys were out,” she said. “He finally got permission from the warden to go into Manhattan and search for the Metas whose files are incomplete.”

I blinked, surprised she’d managed to keep news that huge to herself. Getting into Manhattan was a pet project of hers and Simon’s, and this was a big step in her “Banes aren’t as bad as they used to be” campaign. Simon had been fighting for permission to go back inside what was still, technically, a maximum-security prison. It just happened to be a prison the entire size of Manhattan Island.

“How does that help me?” Aaron asked.

“Simon asked for some volunteers to go inside with him—”

“I’ll go,” I said at the same time Aaron said, “I’m in.”

We looked at each other. And looking at what must have been the exact same expression of surprise on my own face was pretty damn eerie. He seriously needed to drop that glamour.

“It’ll be for a couple of days, at least,” Teresa said to me. “Maybe a week.”

I paused long enough to seem like I was mulling it over, since my initial response had been fast enough to gain her suspicion. “That’s fine. I mean, who else? You can’t go, and I don’t see you sending Gage without you”—and really, since they met up again in January, they hadn’t spent more than thirty-six hours apart and were insanely happy together—“Renee is still healing, Marco might try to bite someone, and the psychics out there might figure something’s up with Double Trouble.”

Double Trouble had been Renee’s nickname for Dahlia and Noah, and it kind of stuck. It was hard working “Dahlia-slash-Noah” into casual conversation.

Teresa’s lips parted as if she was going to argue, and then she nodded. “Good points. On the other hand, Gage’s abilities would be useful for tracking the missing Metas.”

“Not necessarily. By now they have to know who we are and what we can do. They’ll know where and how to hide so Gage can’t sniff them out.”

She shared a look with Gage that communicated in whatever shorthand long-term, deeply in love couples develop over time. Then to me, “All right, I’ll call Simon and make the arrangements. You’ll probably fly out in the morning.”

“Terrific,” Aaron said without any actual tonal inflections. He turned on his heel and left with his sodas.

Teresa whispered something to Gage, who slipped out through the other kitchen door. I didn’t even bother trying to sneak away. Instead, I leaned against the wall by the cupboards and waited.

“Not to pick apart your earlier logic,” she said, “but why’d you volunteer so fast, Ethan? Getting the Metas pardoned and off Manhattan isn’t your favorite initiative of mine. Why go and help?”

Because the Bane once known as Jinx was one of the dozen still missing on the island—not that I’d ever mentioned him to Teresa.

I went for another truth. “I’ve been restless here for a while,” I said. “I know I’ve always raised my voice against helping the Banes”—she flinched—“the ex-Banes, but we don’t really have the mobility or support to help any of the other Metas out there, either. Even if I don’t necessarily like the Metas in Manhattan, I need to be doing something more than watching our old HQ get bulldozed to make way for a movie studio.”

She watched me quietly for a while, her expression difficult to read. “No other reason?”

Lying to Teresa was not something I liked doing, nor was it something I was good at. But I couldn’t tell her I was going across the country on the off chance I’d meet up with Jinx. I didn’t know for sure what I’d do to Jinx when I did meet him. She’d never let me leave the house if she knew I’d entertained ideas of ripping the air right out of his lungs and letting him suffocate for a very serious, very personal reason.

I couldn’t tell her any of that, but I still couldn’t lie.

“A lot of other reasons, and a lot of them private,” I finally said. “But mostly I want to go to help you. This is your pet project, and I know what it means to you.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Ethan.” Her gaze flickered past me. “You’re going to have to make nice with Aaron, you know.”

“I know. Simon will be around to act as a buffer.”

“And you know his bullshit tolerance is even lower than mine.”

“I do. I won’t start any trouble, Teresa, I promise. We’re a reflection of you and the team, right?”

“Right. So don’t make me look bad.”

“You have fun with the junior recruits. Try not to burn the place down.”

“Funny.” She stuck her tongue out at me.

We both laughed.

•   •   •

The other awesome thing about having Dr. Kinsey on our team, aside from his medical expertise, was access to his wealth and assets to help supplement Dahlia’s trust fund. As a scientist at Weatherfield Research and Development, he’d been well paid and he’d invested as well as anyone could in our economy. So, besides the monetary funding he’d poured into Hill House’s medical facilities and their upkeep, he also let us use his private jet.

Yes, he owned his own jet.

Which Aaron and I were on about fourteen hours later, heading east for Newark, New Jersey, and the largest man-made prison in the world. A prison full of people who’d tried very, very hard to kill me and my friends—and who had very much succeeded in killing our parents and mentors.

Like Jinx had killed my mother.

Three

Rangers HQ

Sixteen Years Ago

M
y mom was dying, and I couldn’t do anything to save her.

No one could, and I didn’t think the doctors in the Medical Center were even trying anymore. “We’re keeping her comfortable,” they kept saying. All of them, over and over, like that made it better. The stupid doctors could go suck a big fat one for all I cared, because she was my mom and I needed her. I was just twelve. I didn’t have anyone else.

Oh yeah, I had plenty of adults lined up to tell me what to do, where to live, when to train, how to do my very best when it came time to help out in the War. But those adults weren’t my mom. We’d always had each other.

Her room in the Medical Center wasn’t even a room. It was a cubicle in the corner of the ICU, with three white curtains instead of walls. All around us was a buzz of voices and shoes and wheels squeaking and doors opening. Constant air motion that left me restless and annoyed, and I hated the noise. Mom needed her rest, and how was she supposed to rest with all that freaking noise? She had to rest so she could get better. If people would just stop visiting and giving her those sad, stupid looks, like she was already dead, maybe she’d get better.

And maybe tomorrow I’d grow a second head.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, its digital face mocking me with a countdown on her life. Dr. Winstead said forty-eight hours (he thought she’d survive that long with the machines hooked to her chest and arms), and it had been thirty-six already. I hated Dr. Winstead and his stupid striped ties for not saving her. And I really hated the Bane who’d done this to her.

Patricia “Fathom” Swift led her own Corps Unit, just like I wanted to one day. Mom was my hero, the person I wanted to be when I was a grown-up—smart and fast-thinking and brave. She protected her team, always. Three days ago, her Unit was sent to Chicago. I don’t even remember why. Who cares? They got there and the Banes were waiting. Everyone fought. Mom saved Midnight’s life, because that’s what leaders did, and now Mom was dying for it.

I curled tighter into the chair I’d planted next to Mom’s bed, stomach tight with shame. Not that I’d admit it out loud, but I felt bad about how I’d yelled at Midnight yesterday. She was only a few years older than me, a brand-new Ranger. Deep down, I knew Mom’s job was to protect her, but Midnight’s mom wasn’t dying. Mine was.

Dying because of a Bane named Jinx, whose touch could turn your own powers against you. Mom’s Fathom powers gave her the ability to manipulate water—an elemental power, like my control over air. Dr. Winstead tried explaining exactly what Jinx did to Mom, but the science just made me want to punch him in his fat nose. All I knew for sure was that she was swelling up, the water in her body increasing, drowning her faster than the doctors could drain it.

Looking at her hurt so much that I usually didn’t. Her body was puffy, skin red and swollen and stretched, like someone with a horrible allergic reaction. She couldn’t open her eyes anymore. Her fingers were little sausages, her hands hard to hold, and I’d stopped trying because she just screamed in pain. I couldn’t do anything to comfort her except talk and read from books she liked.

It sucked balls.

And Jinx was going to pay. Pay for Fathom and all the other Rangers he’d killed.

Maybe I was twelve and too young to go out into the field, but the War was bad. Trainees as young as fifteen and sixteen were being take out into Units to fight. Dying, too. Jasper McAllister came back in a black bag a few months ago, and his brother Gage freaked. Gage was two years older than me, so he’d be out there soon. Doing something.

Not sitting in Medical like a freaking lump.

The displacement of air warned me someone was coming—it’s a funny side effect of my Tempest powers. Sensitivity to air movement makes it hard for people to sneak up on me, even if they try coming from downwind. All I had to do was shift the wind’s direction, which I did. A faint hint of lilac told me who it was before she pulled back the curtain.

Delphi was one of Mom’s best friends and a telepath, so she worked more at HQ than in the field. And she mentored a lot of the orphaned Ranger kids, like Jasper and Gage. I’d bet anything Mom had already talked to Delphi once about taking me in if anything happened to her.

Crap.

I didn’t want to deal with Delphi. I wanted Mom to wake up and look at me. She had to get better. Demanding anything less than perfection from any Ranger was unacceptable—that’s what Mom always said. Perfection meant not dying.

“Can I bring you anything, Ethan?” Delphi asked. Her voice was so comforting, like a warm massage on stiff muscles.

As much as I wanted to say yes, because my stomach was empty and sore and I hadn’t eaten in a while, I shook my head.

“How about some soup?” She came a few steps closer, that breeze of lilac stronger. “Your mom wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

She was right, darn her. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Would you like to eat it in the cafeteria?”

Horror hit me like gut-punch. “I can’t leave her!” I hadn’t meant to shout, but I didn’t apologize for it. What if she got worse while I was gone? Mom needed me there.

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Delphi got that tone of voice grown-ups used when they thought kids were being unreasonable, but didn’t want to incite a tantrum. I wouldn’t have minded a good yelling match right then, but not with Delphi. Usually I liked her a lot. Right then, I just didn’t like anybody.

“I need to be here if she wakes up,” I said in my very best “duh” voice.

Delphi put a hand on my shoulder, and I worked really hard not to shake her off. “Honey, your mom isn’t going to wake up. You know that.”

“No, she might.”

“Her body’s too weak to wake up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her.”

I yanked my shoulder away from her hand. I didn’t want to risk her manipulating me with her powers. “She’ll wake up. She knows I need her.”

“Yes, she does. Her mind is still strong, honey, but her body is giving up.”

“You’re just like Dr. Winstead. You don’t want her to live, either.”

“Of course I do. I love your mom, and I love you, too. But we can’t always save the people we love, Ethan. We have extraordinary powers, but not control over life and death.”

I wanted to kick, scream, hit something really, really hard to release the pressure building up in my chest. That tightness wanted to be tears, but I couldn’t cry in front of Mom. She needed me to be strong for her while she was sick.

Delphi squatted in front of me, her long, flowing tan skirt billowing around her like a dust cloud. “I can help you say good-bye, if you want. Help you talk to her one more time.”

She could. Mom never told me exactly how Delphi’s powers worked, just that she could speak telepathically, and could sense the future truth in people’s words (whatever that meant, something to do with an oracle she was named after). I didn’t know if I wanted Delphi listening to whatever Mom and I said to each other. What if it was private?

“Anything you say to each other is between you,” Delphi said, like she’d read my mind. Had she? “I promise, I won’t repeat it.”

I looked at the bed, at Mom’s fat, red face, surrounded by short, black hair. I didn’t look a lot like her. Never had. She said I got my red hair and fair skin from my father, even though she never told me who he was. And all my life, I didn’t really care. A lot of kids here at HQ didn’t have moms or dads, or any real parents at all, so I wasn’t different for not having a dad.

For the first time ever, though, it seemed important. If I lost Mom (if, big if), I wouldn’t have any parents. But she never said he was dead, so maybe I wouldn’t be an orphan. My dad might not want me, because I was a Meta and the War was scaring all the mundane people, but the War couldn’t last forever. The Rangers would win, eventually, and we’d be good guys again. If I was a hero, my dad might want to see me.

I could ask Mom.

“Okay,” I told Delphi.

“I’m proud of you, Ethan,” Delphi said.

“Whatever. Promise you won’t tell anyone what we talk about?”

“You have my word.”

“Okay, fine.”

Delphi stood in a cloud of lilac and breezed around behind my chair. She put herself between me and Mom’s bed, then placed her left hand on Mom’s forehead, where the skin wasn’t covered by wires and electrodes and stuff. I put my own left hand up, and Delphi grabbed it in her right, fingers cold and bony. She had an old lady’s hand, and she was maybe forty. Being a superhero ages you fast, I guess.

“Close your eyes, Ethan.”

I did, and I was in another room.

No, not really a room. A swirl of white, like clouds, without walls or a floor or anything. Mom and me were both there, and Mom was smiling at me, her body no longer bloated and dying. She wore her Rangers uniform, a blue and green unitard with swirls that mimicked waves of water. I always liked her uniform and wanted one like it when I was older. I wanted to run to her, hug her, but I couldn’t move. We weren’t really there, you know?

“Mom?”

She smiled her “I’m so proud of you, and I don’t know how to say it” smile.
“Look at you, my grown-up boy. You’re being so brave.”

“I don’t feel brave. It hurts.”

“I know, baby. But I’m beyond physical pain now. Please believe me.”

“You can’t die.”

“I’m always part of you, Ethan. You know that. You’ll be a fantastic Ranger one day. The best.”

My throat tightened with a pent-up sob, and I was glad I didn’t have to actually talk out loud. If I tried, I’d start bawling like a baby.
“I’ll make sure he’s punished for doing this to you. I’ll make sure Jinx pays, Mom, I swear.”

Mom’s smile slipped into sadness.
“I don’t want you to live your life for revenge, Ethan, and not against him.”

“Why not? He killed you!”

“Rangers aren’t murderers. We protect people. The greatest gift we can give is to lay down our life for another.”

I hated Midnight all over again for being in the way and for getting Mom killed. Even if Mom thought it was heroic and crap like that. It wasn’t. It was stupid and wrong, and since Midnight was a good guy, that meant Jinx had to pay. Jinx was a Bane, anyway. Evil to the bone.

“No one is evil to the bone, baby,”
Mom said.

Had I broadcasted that?

“We’re in Delphi’s head. I can hear everything.”

“Then why can’t I hear everything you’re thinking?”

“Because you aren’t listening. You’re angry, and you’re hurt. Listen with your heart, Ethan. Even when your mind is confused, your heart will never steer you wrong.”

She sounded like a freaking fortune cookie. I tried to listen, I really did. Something wrapped around me, holding me on all sides like a warm bath, protective. Was that her love? What would it feel like when she died and it was gone?

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Will I be an orphan when you die?”

“You’ll always have the Corps. Our family is enormous, and they love you.”

“It’s not the same as real parents. Do I have a father?”

The warmth around me shuddered, and through the love, I felt Mom’s fear. She was hiding something.

“Do I?”

“Yes.”
Her voice was so soft, scared. Mom wasn’t allowed to be scared, not of anything.

Why was she scared of my father?
“Is he still alive?”

“Yes. As far as I know.”

“Who is he? Will he want me?”
I hadn’t meant to ask that last question, but it slipped out. It made me sound like a baby.

Mom’s face got all squishy, like she wanted to cry.
“He doesn’t know about you. He left before I knew I was having a baby, and I never wanted to tell him. He didn’t deserve to share you.”

“I want to know who he is. You can’t leave me and not tell me who he is!”

“Ethan—”

“Mom!”
I was crying, tears hot on my cheeks, my free hand reaching blindly toward the bed for Mom’s bloated arm. As if I could touch her mortal body and shake her subconscious mind into answering me.
“Mom, tell me!”

“Promise me.”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t try to kill him. Not now, not ever, Ethan.”

“Fine.”
I didn’t know if I meant it or not, and I didn’t much care. The more she resisted, the more desperately I had to know the answer. My heart pounded with the need, and both of my hands were shaking, my cheeks and chin damp with tears.

A shudder of grief cut through my mother’s embrace of love.
“Your father’s name is Freddy McTaggert.”

I tried to place the name and failed. So why ask me to promise not to kill him if I didn’t even know who he was?
“Okay.”

Mom wasn’t done ruining my life, though.
“His code name, Ethan, is Jinx.”

•   •   •

She died a few hours later, gasping for air, probably choking on all the water Jinx made her body absorb. I held her hand the whole time. I didn’t cry until Dr. Winstead tried to get me to leave. It didn’t feel real until then, until he pulled a sheet up over her face and turned off all the machines and wanted to put her in the morgue.

Everything hurt all at once, squeezing my chest and heart and brain, and I flung myself onto the bed with her, and I cried.

I cried for a long, long time, and even though I was twelve and almost a teenager, I didn’t give a crap if anyone saw me doing it.

My mother was dead, and my own father had killed her.