Wild Card (54 page)

Mom came out of the house. There was more shouting. Fading away.

Run. Run. Don’t think. Run.

Chapter 56

People write whole books on what you think about when you’re running. I didn’t think. With my Were and Athanate-enhanced body, I could run from one side of the city to the other and back again. Thinking wasn’t required.

Maybe that was what saved me.

I didn’t know how long I ran or what direction I took. Some remote corner of my mind worked, and when I collapsed onto my knees, it was in front of the door to the Kwan.

My eyes cleared, and for the second time, I saw a closure notice on their door.

Classes canceled due to weather.

Call and check before coming.

Keep warm folks!

It
was
cold. My body was able to run for a long time, but the laws of physics being what they were, I’d generated a lot of heat. As soon as I stopped, steam billowed off my skin like a fog.

If I stayed out here someone would call the fire department. My hands wouldn’t work. They felt like paws. The wolf was clawing her way into my head. I fell against the door, felt the tingle of their Adept alarm as it opened.

“Amber!” Mary and Tullah were rushing forward.

I couldn’t talk. They laid me out on exercise mats, sweat was pouring off me.

Blackness. Then cold packs; freaking, freezing cold packs. That woke me up.

Liu was sponging my head.

“Sorry,” I muttered. “Got to get up.” The words ran into each other.

Mary pushed me back. It took all of one finger.

Tullah knelt over me, talking to Bian on my cell.

“Listen to me, Amber. Listen to me,” Tullah said. She gripped my shoulder.

It sounded as if she were talking from the other end of an empty, echoing hall.

“It’s all right, you’re safe now. We’ll stay with you. This is just an Athanate reaction. Nothing to worry about now. Nod if you can hear me.”

Whole body shivers ran down me. My skin rippled. My jaws pulsed and I felt my Athanate fangs. Not an Athanate reaction. I tried to nod anyway, but it was probably lost in the rest of the shaking.

“You should have been resting this week. The injuries from Longmont, what Kaothos did, the fight with Matlal. You should have spent the week in bed.”

I tried to laugh. Or cry. I wasn’t sure which.

“No. Can’t sleep,” I croaked. “Nightmares.”

There was more hushed, urgent conversation.

Tullah leaning over me again.

She was crying. Why was she crying?

Something about Kaothos. I could feel her in my head.

“Hello, lizard.”

“Hush. Listen.”

She understands the strongbox. She can’t fix what’s going wrong in my head, but she can fix the strongbox. Close it back down. Make me sleep.

“Do you want to seal it, Amber Farrell?”

“Yes.”

And I feel the weight of her in my mind. Pressing down on the maelstrom of the strongbox.

“Just so long as you keep it closed,” she says.

Then: “Sleep.” But I only hear her start the word.

Chapter 57

It seemed like days later when I woke. Everything felt kind of muzzy, then as it came back, I panicked, thinking everyone would be wondering where I was. Or worse, they’d know and they would forever be looking at me with sympathy.

Poor girl. Had a terrible breakdown.

Or even worse, the meltdown would happen again.

It was dark outside. They’d moved me to a foam mattress and covered me with a comforter. I’d got no idea of the time.

Tullah sat beside me and calmed me down. With Kaothos’ help, I’d slept deeply, but only for a few hours. No one else knew anything about what had happened. No one was trying to find out what where I was.

I felt numb, disconnected. I needed to get back. After an hour or so, Mary finally agreed.

They drove me down to Wash Park, but Alex’s house was empty.

What had I done? I stood outside wanting to cry and not daring to, in case Mary hauled me back to her home. Wonderful as it was, I couldn’t.

After making me promise I would rest, they let me drive the Hill Bitch the few blocks back to Manassah, but followed until I got there.

I waved goodbye and they disappeared into the darkness as the gates opened.

Shadows cloaked the Spanish portico. The usual scents of lavender and hibiscus had been frozen out.

I was still thinking slowly. It wasn’t until I stopped the car that I noticed the number of guards walking around outside. Was it time for a handover? Too early.

And they were in uniform.

My heart skipped several beats before I recognized the faces.

“Good evening, Ms. Farrell,” the nearest one greeted me. One of Victor’s men. And the uniforms were not really military.

“Evening. Are you changing over shifts?”

“No, ma’am. Ms. Kingslund ordered everyone out of the house. Ms. Alverson said we had to double up on the perimeter.”

“Fine, I guess.” Don’t buy a dog and bark. Don’t second guess Julie’s security arrangements. “Does ‘everyone out’ include me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Out where?” I asked as I climbed the steps.

“Just next door,” he said. “The new building. Should I alert them?” He touched his comms gear.

I looked back from the porch. “Tell them I’m here, is all. Nice uniforms, by the way.”

“Yes, ma’am. Ms. Kingslund insisted and we kinda like them.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I opened the door and stepped hesitantly inside.

Manassah was still. I realized it hadn’t been for some time. No wonder Jen had thrown a fit and sent everyone out. I felt more than a pang of guilt. Planting my oddball House at Manassah without invitation had been taking advantage of Jen. And I’d been blind to it, rushing in and out as if I owned the place.

I winced. I’d apologize. If I got a chance.

The hall was bare of evidence of the invasion. No bags and coats. No forest of boots. And just cleaned, so the floor gleamed.

I put my borrowed jacket on the empty rack, took off my boots and tiptoed into the living room.

“Hello?”

Silence. Not even a murmur from the kitchen.

As I stood there, a different type of fear grew in me, nameless and formless, like a black fog filling my body. I might have lost one kin today through my own stupidity. Please not two.

I walked down the hallway to the bedrooms, my heart thudding painfully in my throat.

The door to my suite was open. I never left it open.

Inside, the bed was stripped bare. The walk-in closets were open and completely empty.

I could understand. The guard outside was wrong. I wasn’t welcome any more. My clothes would be waiting for me next door. No doubt, neatly and efficiently folded by Jen’s maids.

And really, it was all my fault. Jen had been patient beyond belief with me, but she was only human. I’d screwed this up with her, like I’d screwed it up with Alex. My fault.

She was probably in her bedroom. No doubt enjoying the silence after her house had been emptied of the noise and hassle of uninvited guests.

If I was careful, I could probably make it back out without disturbing her. Thank God I’d taken my boots off. Later, we would meet again and be polite while I found some way to pay her back for everything she’d done for me.

I’d need to find a way to remove the kin bond, if I hadn’t destroyed it already. Was that possible?

And the house next door. Hell, how was I even going to start paying for that?

But it was all right. Much better for Jen. I was a freaking liability as a…as a friend, let alone anything else. Really, it was fine.

My Athanate lashed to and fro, but I wasn’t going to do anything to make it worse.

I turned and stumbled blindly back to the door of the suite. Not
my
suite any more. The guest suite, and I wasn’t even a guest.

“There you are!”

I jerked to a halt, only just managing not to run her down.

“I need you to decide.” She grabbed my arm and dragged me into her room. “After all,” she said, “it’s your stuff.”

She had me standing open-mouthed in front of her walk-in closets. Bigger than the guest suite of course. Much bigger. The size of a small apartment.

“Now, I like the matching suits one end and the mix and match the other,” she said, waving at one side. “I couldn’t work out your method from your closet. Do you arrange by color? It’s so difficult to assess when you don’t have enough to go on.”

“I don’t have a method anymore,” I mumbled.

“Well, they must have in the army.”

“They eased up on that. Mostly, it needed to be clean and neat.”

“Bet you had your own system though?”

“Uniforms on the left,” I said. It came back to me. “Formal dress uniform leftmost, then BDU, cleaned, bagged. Civilian clothes on the right. Most formal rightmost.”

“Most formal, hey? What was that?”

“A plain dark dress and jacket.”

“Wow.” She giggled. “That formal.”

A lock of golden hair had escaped her casual bun, and she thoughtfully wound it back with the rest.

She’d moved my clothes in here, and all that implied. She’d gone down to Lisa’s and brought back my green ball gown, slotting it in next to the gold dress I’d worn to the reception. My jeans, all three pairs of them, were hung together, and my shirts next to them. A scarlet kimono, the twin to the one Jen wore now, hung by itself. There was a lot of space between things. A lot. More space than things, in fact. The open drawers alongside held my underwear, also looking plain and lonely.

“How did you get it all in?” I started, then I saw a pile of her clothes to one side.

“I got rid of things I don’t wear any more. And it’s not as if I’m short of things to wear.” She waved it off. “This has been a great excuse. I moved your toothbrush, too. I guess you don’t go much for makeup and creams.”

“No,” I said.

Jen walked past me and pirouetted in the middle of the bedroom, her arms spread wide. Showing off her room.

I’d seen inside her room before. Security checks.

And the rest
said Tara.

Dreams. Just dreams.

But to stop and look at it was different.

All the wall lighting was soft and bounced off the ceiling. A single snake-head lamp stood to one side for reading in bed. The bed itself was Olympic-sized, covered in a bright, silky comforter and scattered with pillows and cushions. The carpet underfoot was a field of cream. Huge bay windows looked out on dark gardens, but unlike the guest suite, the view would be down to the Country Club. The half-open door to her bathroom gave a glimpse of an ornate marble altar to cleanliness.

It was like the most luxurious bedroom suite from the ritziest magazine I’d never expected to see in real life. And I was being invited to stay.

She pulled the blinds and came back to me.

“Well?”

“Jen, it’s beautiful, but—”

“But nothing. I’ve been spinning my wheels. Time to get a grip.” She demonstrated by slipping her arms around me.

The way we fit together hadn’t changed. A sense of completeness stole through me. My Athanate purred and the feeling of lazy anticipation bubbled up again.

Oh yes!

Our hearts settled into sync, as if we practiced this. No fuss. No urgency. No pressure, other than the gentle crush of our arms.

And the insistent hammering in my head.

“It’s too dangerous, Jen. I’m not in control. I had a complete meltdown this afternoon. I don’t know what I’ll do.”

I tried to move away, but she didn’t let go and we danced awkwardly back until I thumped against the full length mirror set between the two halves of her closet.

There was something hanging there. I could feel the slick fabric against my neck.

“And what on earth is this?”

She eased her hold to allow me to turn around to see what she was pointing at.

“It’s my batsuit and brake,” I said.

“Your
what
?”

“For jumping out of planes. It’s the name we gave it in Ops 4-10. It’s for VHALO. Vectored High Altitude Low Opening parachute jumps. The brake is the parachute. You jump out the aircraft when it’s very high and far from your drop zone, so the aircraft noise doesn’t give you away. You use the batsuit like a base jumper,” I babbled, lifting the arms and showing the tough, stretchy fabric between the arms and the body, and between the legs. “Squirrel would be a better name than bat, because you don’t fly, you just sort of control the angle and direction of your fall. It’s fun. We always said it was almost as good…” I stumbled to a halt.

“Ahh,” said Jen, grinning. “And what’s that.”

Her fingers brushed the letters I’d inked on the breast.

TaJ.

They’d had me take it off, but it had always found its way back.

“Sort of a motto. Completely against regs.” I rubbed at it, but it would take more than that to erase it. “I probably shouldn’t have the suit at all.”

“Hmm. You have a history of not doing what you’re told,” she said.

I turned back. Mistake. Once I started looking into those blue eyes, I couldn’t look away.

“And ‘TaJ’, that wouldn’t be ‘Trust and Jump’, would it?” Her breath trailed phantom fingers over my cheek.

“You know damn well what it stands for. I’ve told you before,” I said and swallowed. “I never meant it like that.”

“Like what? Like ‘trust me and I’ll jump you?’”

I laughed. More a surprised bark than a laugh. “Yeah. But seriously, listen to me. I trust you, Jen. It’s me I don’t trust.”

“I know. But I also know that you wouldn’t hurt me. That includes all of you. You have to trust me to trust you,” she whispered.

Kin!

Something Pia had said.
The desire of kin is sacred to me.

Jen’s lips brushed mine.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Oh, shut up,
said Tara.