Out of Reach (13 page)

“Connecting with humanity is your gift.
This, this is something else.”

Pausing mid-stride, the full force of his
words hits me in the back before I let it roll off. Without further
acknowledgment I close the door behind me and hit the shower. I
waste time trying to give Halim ample opportunity to see that I’m
fine and leave. When I exit the closet fully dressed nearly an hour
later he’s still sitting stoically upon that chair.

“What was last night, Kade?”

Not meeting his gaze I laugh. “Figuring it
out.”

Unimpressed with my response, Hal shakes his
head slowly from side to side.

“Don’t look so taken aback; it was your
advice, brother.”

“That’s not what I meant when I told you
this was something you needed to reason out for yourself and you
know it,” he says carefully, rising to his feet.

“Well, this works for me,” I say, turning to
step past him and into the kitchen. Reading my body language he
moves, blocking my path before I can complete my first step.

“She’d only known the guy a few weeks. I
meant pursue her or let her go.” Pointing at a pile of bloody rags
at the foot of the bed (which can only be my clothing from
yesterday) Hal continues, “Not harbor your feelings until they boil
over into physical violence.”

“Whatever, I’m the only one who gets hurt,”
I say defensively, fists clenched at my sides.

“Arrogant child, what about the man you
nearly killed last night? Or your partner, who can do nothing but
watch while you slowly self destruct?”

Flashbacks of last night (and the many
nights like it) play through my head. Unfortunately alcohol doesn’t
affect me the same way it does humans. I remember all of my nights
in vivid detail, down to the last drop of blood on the
pavement.

“Don’t bring Z into this!” I shout, finally
losing my composure.

“Z, the guy who’s pulled you out of that
place over and over again, who isn’t here now because he just can’t
suffer any more of this with you. I didn’t bring him into this,
Kade, you did that all by yourself.”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed my head
droops into my hands and the air rushes from my body, completely
deflated. Z has been the only companion in my life for a long time.
The Wanderers are all my brothers but I’ve largely lived at odds
with them for the last decade, ostracized for my belief in Gwen and
the permanent posting I’ve established here. Like the butt of a bad
joke. Zafir is the only one who believes in me, his faith
unwavering even as one by one the rest of my brothers have come to
see Gwen as a lost cause.

“You play dirty, Hal,” I say, lifting my
chin up to look at him.

“I did not intend to. But sometimes you’re a
stubborn son of a bitch.” A ghost of a smile plays at the corners
of his mouth. With the tension dissipating from the room, we begin
to converse like normal people again.

“Threatening me with Z and the prospect of
being completely alone for all eternity, that’s a low blow but
sobering nonetheless. Which I believe was your intent.”

“You get so stuck in your own head, Kade.
This morning nothing short of dynamite was going to bring you
back.”

Rising I cross the distance between us and
lock forearms with my brother. “Thank you, now how about some
breakfast?”

With a Cheshire cat grin spreading across
his face, Hal looks out the window. “Kade, it’s 4:30 in the
afternoon.”

“Oh, well how about a burger then?”

Slapping me on the back he laughs and says,
“Now you’re talking.”

Chapter 19

Shit, shit, shit!

Things in the lab have not gone smoothly for
me this morning. The excitement I felt after our meeting last week
has completely evaporated, much like my latest failed attempt with
compound 253B is doing right now, evaporating into a beautiful
purple gas that dissipates into nothing several seconds later.
Looking over at Abigail, who has been patiently working with me all
morning, I frown.

“Don’t worry, I’ll clean this up and we can
try again,” she tells me, her upbeat voice matching her
enthusiastic expression. Nothing gets Abigail down; most days I
like that. Today it’s just making me even crazier.

Sometimes I don’t cherish the hot and cold
mood swings that come with being a redhead.

Having a more even
temperament might be ideal
, I think to
myself.

Shaking my head, I wander over to the
workbench where I left my notes. Quickly flipping through them, I
review the procedure I’m supposed to be following, hoping to figure
out where I’m making an error. Sighing, I drop my notebook and
begin to knead the sides of my temple with my hands.

Great. On top of everything else I’m getting
a headache.

Once Abigail has the worktop sanitized we
will begin our third attempt of the morning. Hopefully the third
time really is the charm. We aren’t the only ones having trouble
this morning. When I first arrived, I spent the first hour or so
visiting each of the various teams, critiquing and lending a hand
where I could. When it was apparent everyone was struggling, Joe
and I jumped in to see if our luck would be any better. So far we
haven’t faired any better than the rest of the team.

“Hey everyone, come take a look at this!”
Joe belts out.

He and Charlie have been working together at
Station 1, which is farthest from the bench Abigail and I currently
occupy. Knowing we will be the last people to arrive no matter how
fast we walk, I take my time getting up from my chair. While
watching the mass of bodies converging around Joe and Charlie, I do
a couple of back and arm stretches, hoping to loosen the tense knot
that has taken up residence just above my right shoulder blade.

Abigail hesitates, looking at me for
direction. Reading her face, I see the desire to find out what all
the fuss is about war with the obligation she feels toward staying
with me her partner.

Waving her on, I say, “Go, I’ll catch up in
a minute.”

Cleary relieved, Abigail heads off to join
the rest of the team. Aware lingering any longer at my station will
be construed as rude, I collect my pen off the counter and make my
way over to Station 1.

As I get closer, I catch
snippets of conversation, my brain picking out words like
stable
,
gelatinous
, and
corrosive
. The team has
formed a line, which is quickly moving past Joe and Charlie’s
workbench. Too frustrated to care about much at the moment, I take
my place at the end of the line and patiently wait my turn to see
what marvel Joe and Charlie have come up with.

Locating me, Joe wanders over. “Gwen, it’s
not perfect by any means, but it has maintained shape and stability
for over twenty minutes.”

Beaming, he takes off his glasses, quickly
wipes the perspiration from his forehead, and continues.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t expect it to be this
difficult, but hopefully things are about to turn around.” Joe
steps behind me as we approach the bench, giving me clear view of
Charlie and what appears to be a plate of Jell-O.

Keeping my distance, I listen as Charlie
explains: “It doesn’t look like much, I know, but after removing
the mold it appears to be maintaining consistency.”

Charlie is right; I can see that, while
spongy, compound 253B is maintaining solid, well, semisolid
form.

“Good work,” I say to Charlie.

Laughing, I step back, looking directly at
Joe.

“So I can’t market it as a freezer pop for
safety concerns, but you’re fine with Jell-O?” I tease, letting a
fit of mirth consume me. Momentarily flabbergasted, Joe stares at
me before bursting into laughter.

“We’ll make it the color of poop so kids
won’t want to eat it,” he manages to get out between fits of
hysterics.

Marching straight up to the workbench, I
poke the gelatinous square with my pen, watching it jiggle for a
moment before turning back to address the group.

“This,” I say, my pen still pointing in the
direction of the plate, “is good progress people, and—”

A sudden gasp followed by exclamations of
alarm all around stops me midsentence.

Turning back to face the workbench, I see
it.

Right before our eyes, the briefly stable
compound liquefies and then evaporates into wisps of purple smoke.
Joe rushes forward.

“I don’t understand it. It was fine until
you poked it.”

“Did anyone else touch it?” I ask.

“Yes, I did as well as a couple of others,”
Joe answers.

So the only problem in this
equation is me
, I think to myself. My
anger flares and spills over the poorly constructed dam that’s been
containing it all morning.

Shoving my fists into my pockets, I look at
Joe and say in a voice that’s too controlled for comfort, “I’m
going to need a few minutes.”

Without waiting for his response I swiftly
exit the lab.

Lost in my own head, I stalk aimlessly down
the hallway for a few minutes, looking for a quiet place to be
alone. My office is the first place I cross off the very short list
of places I might hide. It’s the first place anyone looking for me
will go. The ladies room, I decide, is my best bet for a few
moments of privacy.

Ch
apter 20

Kade

I run a hand through my
hair and look at the clock, impatiently tapping my pen on the
counter.
Almost lunch time but not
quite.

I let out a deep breath and try to refocus
on the mundane task in front of me but Z is all I can think about.
I haven’t been able to reach him and the guy hasn’t returned my
voicemails. Moments later I stand up, realizing my nervous pen
tapping is drawing looks from my coworkers. Unable to concentrate I
throw my pen on the tabletop and head for the exit. I have to call
Z again and do something about the poison building up between us.
Heading for the alcove around the first corner, I hit speed dial on
my cell phone.

“Come on, come on, pick up,” I mutter under
my breath.

“Kade.” The overconfident, gravely voice of
my partner comes across the line like music to my ears.

“Z, I know I’ve done all of this poorly. I
just don’t know how to separate myself from her. But Crash, that
part of it’s over. I’m never going back, Z. You have my word.”

“No more punishment?”

“It’s finished.”

“Okay. Next time don’t be such a chick about
it.”

A flabbergasted, “Huh?” is all I get
out.

“Six voicemails, really dude? I can see your
vagina from here.”

Ending the call I lean my head up against
the glass window of the alcove and close my eyes. In the riot of
circumstances troubling me right now, it’s nice to have an
anchor.

I slip the cell phone back into my pocket as
I step away from the window. Now would be as good a time as any to
check on Gwen. Passing by my lab on the left I stalk down the
hallway, destined for Lab 4B. I toy with the idea of just telling
Gwen what she is as I walk. Maybe understanding her legacy would
help her connect to the power inside her.

These days people don’t know where they come
from. Several hundred years ago that wasn’t the case—individuals
could recite their bloodlines and Nephilim understood their
remarkable heritage and the magic intertwined with it. Working
through the logistics of such a gamble I round the corner at the
end of the hall the same instant a red tornado slams into my
unyielding chest.

The force of the impact combined with her
forward momentum sends Gwen bouncing backward. A smile lights my
face at our fortuitous meeting. Before I can check to see if she’s
okay, Gwen sidesteps me and hurtles into the ladies room.

Recognizing the tell-tale signs of a temper
tantrum, I follow her to the bathroom slowly, allowing her a few
minutes alone to cool off. I can taste Gwen’s fury through the
door; like an unpalatable flavor it coats my tongue. After a few
minutes I’m concerned enough to knock on the bathroom door. As the
echo of my pounding fades away, I try to wait patiently but the
silence stretches on. Knocking a second time I try to coax her
out.

“Gwen, I know you're upset. Come out
please.”

When my tenderhearted imploring fails to
elicit a response, I try humor. “Come on, we both know you’re not
crying in there.”

Again I fail to garner a reply. Switching
gears I imply threat of force to try and provoke the volatile
redhead into leaving her cave to fight. “I’m not above dragging you
out of there you know. If you come out nicely now I’ll even buy you
a Coke. I know it’s been awhile since your last hit, you caffeine
addict.”

After several long seconds Gwen finally
concedes. “I’m coming!” she yells through the door. Stepping back I
cross my arms over my chest and wait, desperately trying to wipe
the smug expression off my face before she emerges. A cold and
detached Gwen slinks out of the bathroom.

“Geez, what do you have to be so mad about,
gigantor?” I ask. “As I recall, you ran into me back there,” I say
pointing at the scene of the accident for effect.

“Are you done, because I actually have a lot
on my plate at the moment and I don’t need ...”

She trails off as I grab her shoulders,
stopping the tirade before it really gets going, and steer her
around, announcing, “I’m cashing in on that lunch you owe me.”
Without too much of a fight coming from her, I manage to march us
across the street to the courtyard café and force Gwen down into a
chair on the patio.

Under Gwen’s seething glare, I waltz back
inside and place an order with the short brunette working the
register. Grabbing the two large cups she hands me I make good on
my said peace offering and fill Gwen's glass to the brim with ice
cold Coca-Cola. After scoring us a couple of straws, I make my way
back through the café and outside to our table. Gently setting the
bubbly Coke down in front of Gwen, I take my seat before handing
her a straw.