Shimmer: A Novel (22 page)

“What about you, Logan?” Ambrose asked.

“I don’t think Barrett’s a coward,” Logan said, smiling mischievously.

“I was referring to your frantic telephone call from school.”

“Guess the kid was looking for an excuse to play hooky.”

Ambrose ignored the gibe. “You sensed something?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “Still do. Not as intense. But it’s there, beneath the surface, like it could erupt any moment.”

“But not related to Gideon’s arrival?”

“No,” Logan said. “I had a completely different reaction when I realized he was here.”

“You knew?” Barrett asked, incredulous. He was trying to understand the scope and manifestation of Logan’s abilities but he simply hadn’t lived with them long enough to grasp the various subtleties.

“Doesn’t work that way,” Logan said. “I sensed a change, a shift in… something. As Liana drove closer to home, I sensed a change here, not its exact nature. Of course, in hindsight, I know that’s what I was sensing, but before all I had was my ever buoyant gut to go on.”

“And what about the other thing?”

“Like I said, it’s beneath the surface, a nagging sense of doom, but I can’t be more specific than that.”

“Doesn’t that drive you nuts?”

“More often than not.”

Barrett shook his head in apparent sympathy, glanced toward the kitchen, then back at Ambrose. “What’s his plan? Will he fight beside us?”

“I would hope so,” Ambrose said carefully.

“But…?”

“Only Gideon knows,” Ambrose said. “There’s a kind of… fatalism about his return to us. Resignation, if you will.”

“Not a death wish?”

“No, no,” Ambrose said. “I truly believe his spirit is willing.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Ambrose sighed. “I wish I knew.”

Chapter 34

When Liana entered the kitchen, Gideon was pouring himself a glass of filtered ice water.
Probably avoids caffeine,
she thought,
same as Barrett.
She was surprised how much they resembled each other, despite Gideon’s bigger build and the prominent scars along the left side of his face. After a few moments, she attributed the resemblance to the way they moved, catlike, with an economy of motion and sinuous grace.

Gideon glanced at her over the open refrigerator door and asked, “Can I get you something?”

“I’m fine,” Liana said and sat down in a chair, facing him with her back to the wall.

Gideon shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He closed the refrigerator and sat down opposite her. “Let me guess. You’re the family peacekeeper.”

She smiled. “Sometimes.”

“Look, Liana,” Gideon said after a slight sip of his chilled water. “I’m not mad at Barrett. In fact, I expected his reaction.”

“Expected? Or triggered?”

“Provocative comment for a peacekeeper.”

“Hence the ‘sometimes,’” Liana said.

“We all have our flaws,” Gideon said, prior to taking a longer sip of water.

She noticed that he had avoided her gaze during that last statement and she thought she understood why. “It’s not your fault,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Those children.”

“What—? Oh, I know that,” Gideon said with a slow nod. “How could I have known? Of course, after reading the details of the murders, I had an idea it might be a grim. But I couldn’t be sure. Doing what we do, it’s easy to see an Outsider hand in everything wrong with the world. Sadly, humans are sometimes as monstrous as the worst of the grims.” He let out a weary sigh. “No, I couldn’t be certain. Until he showed up on my doorstep.”

“So, you don’t blame yourself?”

“Had I been smarter, would I have caught on and stopped him sooner? Maybe… I can’t say. And yet, if I had had someone like you with me, working as a team, we might have been able to save at least one of those children. Again, maybe. But I choose not to live in ‘what if’ worlds. This one demands my full attention.” He rubbed the stubble along his jaw. “When you don’t have choices, why second guess yourself?”

“But is this the choice you want?”

Gideon spread his arms wide and laughed. “Is this what any of us Walkers want? We’d have to be crazy to want this life—this responsibility.”

Liana chuckled. “Good point,” she said. “Guess some of us see it as a calling.”

Gideon tapped his temple with an index finger. “That’s because this life warps your mind. I think we have a streak of insanity running in our mutated Walker genes.”

“Even you?”

He laughed. “Of course. None of us is exempt.”

Liana’s smile melted away as she thought of Thalia, whose mind had drifted perilously close to pure insanity. Perhaps they
were
at risk, every one of them. “I suppose each of us has an equal capacity for greatness and despair.”

“With most somewhere in the middle.”

Liana nodded agreement as she thoughtfully tapped a fingernail against one of the trays in the lazy Susan. “Some days are better than others.”

She had an idea that Gideon’s scarring was the root of his problem dealing with Barrett, but she wasn’t sure why. Whatever it was, it had little to do with vanity. Gideon made no effort to turn aside the ravaged side of his face, to hide or obstruct the scars. He looked at her now as he had looked at everyone else in the house, squarely, as if demanding acceptance for what he was, or rather, for how he appeared.

“The reason I came back is simple,” Gideon said. “I realized I can’t ignore what I am because
they
won’t. They’ll keep coming for me.”

“And if you attract grims, what better place than a Walker stronghold?”

“Precisely.”

Liana canted her head.
Something in his tone.
“You know, Barrett admires you.”

“Past tense.”

“No,” she said. “Present tense. And he doesn’t think you’re a coward.”

“He won’t—can’t trust me.”

“He doesn’t doubt you,” Liana said. “But maybe he thinks you doubt yourself.”

Gideon took a long swallow of water, then cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“That you were spooked by something in that rift in San Diego.”

“Hell, I’m spooked by most things on the other side of rifts.”

Too casual, too flippant,
she realized. “You
do
doubt yourself.”

“I’m not afraid,” he said quickly. “No, that’s not right. We’d be fools not to fear the worst the rifts have to offer. But I’m not paralyzed by my fears. I never was and I’m not now, but…” His right hand crossed his body, his fingers drifting toward the eye patch before he pulled them away. “I lost an eye in that rift.”

Liana nodded. He was stating a fact, but beneath the obvious remark was a deeper meaning. “And something else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Gideon asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “You don’t understand what that means for someone like me or Barrett. With our abilities.”

“Hyperacuity?” Liana said. “Lightning-fast reflexes.”

“Sure, I can still see,” he said. “But that’s not enough. Obviously, my field of vision is decreased but more importantly, with one eye, my depth perception is shot.”

“You believe you’re a liability.”

“A fraud,” he said, draining his glass. “Oh, I still have my abilities, hyperaesthesia and hyperacuity, and a bit of prescience about certain things. But what good are lightning-fast reflexes when you’re aim is bad, when you misjudge distances, bump into doorjambs?”

“I know.”

Gideon arched his eyebrows. “You know?” He chuckled bitterly. “That’s it? You know.”

“When I first learned of your accident,” Liana said, “I started a… special project.”

“Like what? A scrapbook? Gideon’s past glories?”

“No,” Liana said with a tolerant smile. “Something a bit more ambitious.”

Gideon leaned forward, flashing an indulgent smile. “Never knew you took such an interest in me.”

“I didn’t want to say anything, in case I failed… but then you…”

“Quit?”

Liana nodded. “I thought you wanted to get away from us, so I decided it was better that I not meddle in your affairs.”

“Well, I’m back,” Gideon said with a crooked grin. “So feel free to meddle again. What was this special project?”

Liana cleared her throat and looked down, as if embarrassed. “A replacement eye.”

“Sorry. Doctors beat you to it,” Gideon said. “Fitted me with a new-fangled integrated orbital implant. Hydroxyapatite. Real tongue-twister, huh?” He lightly tapped the black eye patch with his forefinger. “Docs made it sound like everyone would want one of these babies. Of course, you can’t actually see anything with them, but it’s all about cosmetic appearances and range of motility. Fools the casual observer. Problem is, I’m the one on the inside
not
looking out.”

“I figured as much,” Liana said. “I mean, about the implant. So why do you wear the eye patch?”

“Hell with the casual observer, you know? I look in the mirror—with my good eye, naturally—and
I
can tell. As a bionic eye, it leaves a lot to be desired. Guess I’ll get one of those super-powered science fiction replacements about the same time personal jetpacks and anti-gravity cars start rolling off the assembly line.”

“Unfortunately, a bionic implant is beyond my… abilities,” Liana said tentatively.

The eyebrow above Gideon’s good eye arched again. “Abilities?”

“Well, you see, I made you an implant,” Liana said. “But it’s not made of that hydroxy stuff.”

“No?”

Liana shook her head.

Gideon grinned. “What, then, pray tell?”

“Crystal.”

“A bit old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

“The materials might be a bit old world—or new wave—depending on your perspective,” Liana admitted. “But the design is, um, very progressive.”

“Really? How so?”

“It’s triple-spelled,” Liana said. “I had Thalia assist me, to help bind the magic.”

“Thalia? She still uses magic?”

“On occasion,” Liana said. “It’s not always safe for her—or us—but she can do it as long as I help her focus. Oops, sorry, unintentional pun.”

“What?”

“Eye,” Liana said, “and focus.”

“Right,” he said, grinning. “Shame on you.”

“Unfortunately, the implant is inert at the moment.”

“Thanks for trying,” Gideon said. “Means a lot that you were thinking of your long-lost cousin.”

“You don’t understand, Gideon,” Liana said, taking his hand in hers and gazing into his remaining eye. “I didn’t say it won’t work. Only that it’s inert.”

“I don’t understand,” he said, the easy confidence and playfulness fading from his voice. “Inert. That means it’s a failure, right?”

“Not at all,” Liana said, smiling at him. “We designed this eye to produce a glamour and—”

“An illusion? I don’t understand.”

“To appear the same as your normal eye, to react in concert with it, not just motility but pupil dilation, relative inflammation of capillaries, whatever. It will mimic the other eye’s movement and appearance precisely.”

“That would be a definite improvement over this hunk of hydroxyapatite in my skull.”

“That’s not the best part,” Liana said, squeezing his hand. She was becoming excited despite herself. Until the implant was in place and animate, she could not be sure it would work as promised. “The eye will be adaptive to your surroundings, perhaps more so than your normal eye, and it will be… viable.”

“What exactly are you saying, Liana?”

“You should be able to see through this eye,” Liana said, “in any conditions.”

“See? How is that possible? It’s a crystal sphere.”

“The bound, triple spells,” Liana said, with a shrug. “In theory.”

“Ah,” Gideon said with the knowing grin of the redeemed skeptic. “There’s the rub. Looks good on paper, but in practice, not so much.”

“That depends on you.”

“Why? You said it was inert. In other words, worthless, right?”

“Wrong,” Liana said. “Inert means it’s not animate.”

“Right. An ocular implant by any other name.”

Liana folded her arms under her chest and glared at him. “Stop being such a Doubting Gideon for five seconds, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Fine,” Liana said. “The implant is only inert because we were missing one crucial ingredient.”

“A rare herb? Mystical stone?”

“No, wise guy,” Liana said. “We were missing your blood.”

“What?”

“You heard me. We can’t animate the eye without your blood.”

Gideon cleared his throat again and said, “Exactly how much blood are we talking about?”

“Not much,” Liana said. “A few drops, applied to the implant. The spells are bound to the implant, but the implant must be bound to you. Otherwise, it remains—”

“Inert.”

“Yes.”

“But with my blood it will be… animate?”

Liana nodded, sporting a satisfied grin.

“And I’ll be able to see with this artificial eye?”

“Probably better than with your normal eye. Of course, we haven’t been able to test it, but the theory is sound.”

“How do we test it?
When
can we test it?”

“Can you remove your hydro-poxy implant?”

“Hydroxyapatite,” Gideon unconsciously corrected. She could tell his mind was racing ahead with the possibility of having his sight fully restored. “Yes, I take it out every month or so to clean it.”

“Then we can test it today,” Liana said.

“Best news I’ve heard in a long time.” He took her hand this time and gave it a healthy squeeze. “This works, I’ll owe you big time.”

“All in the family,” Liana said, with a big goofy grin on her face. Somewhere down inside her, threatening to bubble up into her consciousness and overwhelm her, were a bunch of nagging questions and doubts. It had been a while since she and Thalia had spelled the implant, so she wondered if the spells were still potent, if the implant would function as promised. And she worried about failing Gideon after giving him hope. Yet she refused to let her qualms undermine her confidence and enjoyment of the moment. If the implant needed adjustments, some minor magical tweaks, she would perform them without complaint or hesitation. Gideon had returned to the family of his own accord, but she would make sure he had a good reason to stay.

“Great,” Gideon said. “Let’s get started.”