Authors: Jaime Rush
The journalist stepped in front of the camera, her expression passive. “This group is called the Sun Veil, but little is known about them. They have never come under the scrutiny of authorities until now. This was a self-sustaining community, and people in the nearest town said they only came in once in a while and never talked to anyone other than necessary conversation.” She turned to her right. “This woman, who chooses not to be identified, is the only survivor of the massacre. Can you tell us what happened?”
With a trembling hand, the woman anchored her hair behind her ear. “We’ve been waiting for the Veil to come and take us to our home planet. We were getting the signs that they were coming. Yesterday morning we saw something in the sky. We don’t get any air traffic out here, so we thought it was the mother ship finally coming to take us out of this sick world. The plane came low, spraying something, like one of those farm planes. We thought it was way off course and we went inside ’cause we didn’t want to breathe any chemicals or pesticides—we send the bugs that eat our produce love, and they leave it alone. Then in minutes everyone started acting irritated. I felt it, too, anger, hatred, fear, like I was being bombarded by everything I’ve tried to keep out of my energy field since I moved here.”
She put her hand to her chest, her voice going hoarse. “The Family started arguing at first, name calling, and then hitting each other, and before I knew it, they were stabbing and strangling . . .” Her voice broke. “Even the children. Even the children were hurting each other, and then the adults killed them. It was hell on earth.”
“How did you survive this horrible massacre?” the journalist asked.
“I locked myself in a storage bin. When I came out, after it got quiet, everyone was dead.” Her eyes were haunted.
A man came over and took the woman’s arm. “Please, ma’am, come with me.”
The journalist wasted no time. “Sir, do you have any idea what happened here? Have you found the plane?”
“We’re working on all leads.” He turned and led the woman away, FBI emblazoned on the back of his jacket.
Fonda’s face was white, and when a commercial came on, she broke away and looked at him. A plane that sprayed chemicals. She walked toward him, and without a word between them, they stepped outside.
She gripped his arms as soon as the door closed. “The plane!”
“I know, I know. It has to be the same one. He sprayed them with something.”
“That’s what he was talking about, not being able to enjoy killing people. Whatever he sprayed, it made them turn on each other. Even the children, Eric.
Children
.”
He gritted his teeth over that. It was the worst part, the most heinous. “We have to stop him. Them.”
His phone rang, and he pulled it out and looked at the display. “It’s Amy.” He answered.
“Eric, have you seen the news?” Her voice sounded rushed.
“The cult massacre?”
“You said the guy took a crop duster out, right?”
“It’s got to be the same plane. He had canisters onboard.”
“The woman who survived, she had a glow.”
“An Offspring glow?”
“Not quite, but something like it. Whatever he sprayed on them, it’s related to Blue Moon.”
“He infected them with it.” It sounded insane. “And it launched those people into a psychotic attack. Hold on a minute.” He turned to Fonda. “Amy sees glows, like auras. Different colors mean different emotions. Offspring have a mixed glow, like static on a television. She said the survivor had a glow something like it. Which means Westerfield is more than just trying to wipe us to cover up the program. He’s using Blue Moon like a weapon.”
“He probably figured no one would question a cult going crazy. And think about it: that wrestler who went bonkers and killed his family. Last month, the guy with no history of violence shooting his coworkers. There have been several cases of random, senseless violence in the last few months in this area.”
“She’s right,” Amy said, obviously having heard her. “The question is, why? They’re risking Blue Moon being found in a tox scan.”
Eric ran his fingers through his hair. “Another question is, who are these people? Not Offspring. Maybe someone in the original program. Westerfield is the right age for that.”
The day was bright now, people moving about, leaving for work. He wished he were one of them, giving the wifey a kiss goodbye and heading off to the factory.
No, he didn’t.
Fonda’s face was tense. “This isn’t just about us anymore,” she said. “It’s about innocent people getting killed and no one knowing why. Children are dying.” She paced the porch. “If they found something unidentifiable in the tox scan they did on the wrestler, on any of those people, they didn’t tell the media.”
“Maybe it’s not detectable,” Eric said. “Our parents ingested who knows how much of that stuff. Enough to change our DNA and probably theirs, too. But a smaller dose may not show up. Amy,” he said into the phone. “I know you don’t like to do it, but you need to talk to Cyrus. Ask him if there was anyone else in the program we don’t know about.”
After a moment of silence she said, “Okay. I’ll work on that now. Nicholas wants to talk to you.”
“Hey. Amy said you mentioned a strange man outside the motel, that he gave you a really weird feeling.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he have a shaved head? Was he taller than you, with light violet-blue eyes? Did you get a strange feeling, like a current of electricity?”
Eric sorted through the barrage of questions. “Shaved head, yes. Taller than me, yes, but leaner. I couldn’t see his eyes in the dark, but I did feel something like an electrical current when he looked at me.” It clicked then. “That guy you told us about, the one who worked with Darkwell.”
“Yeah. Sounds like Pope.”
“Maybe he’s the one Westerfield was talking to at the airfield.”
“Except Pope didn’t do anything to us when Olivia and I found the warehouse full of all that strange stuff. That’s always baffled me. He could have easily nailed us. Obviously he knew we were there, because he materialized as though he were a ghost. But he didn’t try to stop us or even question us.”
“I don’t like it,” Eric said. “It’s much better when people are cut and dried. They’re either trying to kill us or not. Pope’s a wild card, and that makes him dangerous. Put Lucas on for a second.”
When Lucas came on the line, Eric asked, “What’s the situation there?”
“Not good. The SWAT team is searching my house again. They obviously know we’re here somewhere. I think they’re on to us.”
“I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“You come here storming the place, they’ll nab you and get us anyway.”
He hated to admit that Lucas’s fears were justified. The old Eric would have stormed in, guns blazing. “I’m not storming anything.”
“We’re prepared. They won’t take us alive, that’s for sure.”
“Taking you dead is not a good alternative. We’re going to find Westerfield and take him out. Hopefully his partner will be with him.” He looked at Fonda, who no doubt was trying to make sense of the conversation. “If something happens to me, I’m sending Fonda your way. Once you’re out of there.”
“Fonda? Seriously? Don’t tell me the hard-assed don’t-get-involved Aruda has fallen for a woman, and a former enemy, no less.”
“Just bring her in. She needs people like herself. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I don’t need people,” Fonda said tersely.
“Yeah, you do. Let’s fly. We’ve got a psycho bastard to find.”
Neil drove all over the area. Dark emotions bombarded him, as though the residents were pelting him with slimy blobs. His phone rang. Malcolm. What did he want? They had already celebrated their victory. Almost everyone in the cult had succumbed to their own rage. If only he’d been there to witness it, to breathe it in. But he would. More and more people would be exposed to the Essence, creating that delicious chaos he loved so. He answered. “Yeah.”
“I found exactly where they are, the simplistic way. Fonda’s father lives in the area.” He rattled off an address.
Neil punched in the address in his GPS. “Two minutes away.”
“Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
Malcolm’s voice took on that deadly low tone Neil hated. “A man died four nights ago near Fonda’s apartment. Right around the time you were there. His heart looked like a squashed tomato, according to the medical examiner. They’re baffled.”
“I don’t have time for gossip. I’ve got people to dispatch.”
“Neil, I will not allow you to destroy my life here.”
“I’ll check back when I’ve assessed the situation.” He hung up, feeling a twitch in his cheek.
A minute later he pulled past the small house. No car in the driveway. No lights on. He called Malcolm and reported that.
“I had a thought while I was driving around,” he went on. “They found me once. We don’t know if Eric Aruda can project or view, but we know Fonda can. I’ll bet she’ll try again. I’m going to do what we did to Simeon.”
“Yes, prepare for it. Go to the factory and remain there for a while.”
Neil gritted his teeth. “That’s what I was going to do.” Damn him, giving orders. Maybe Malcolm did that in his role, but he did not like to take orders. Especially when they kept him from doing what he enjoyed most. He would soon have Fonda. And where Fonda went, Eric Aruda was sure to follow.
A
dmit it. You think I’m weird because of the cutting.” Fonda leaned against the passenger door, facing him.
He glanced at her and then back at the road ahead. “I don’t think you’re weird.”
“You do, just a little. You won’t hurt my feelings. I expect it, actually.”
He looked at her, his head tilted. “When you told me why you did it, I finally understood something about myself. Why I was reckless. Why I jumped off roofs and picked fights with guys meaner than me, why I did a lot of the things I did. When I take risks, I feel alive.”
She could only stare at him. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all. He understood her, related to her oddness. She remembered her words to him . . . Was it only two days ago?
I don’t want to like you, Eric Aruda. Don’t make me.
Well, he had gone and made her like him. More than like him. Every day, he did something that touched her, breaking down her defenses. The way he’d kissed her,
ay carumba!
It would have been easier if it was a lustful moment, or like that shut-you-up kiss. No, he’d looked at her in a way that grabbed her heart like a soft glove taking hold, never to let go.
Oh, puh-lease, cut that out.
She fiddled with one of her earrings, faux gold chandeliers, tugging it down until she felt pain. Safe. Comfortable. Not scary like feeling something for Eric Aruda.
“I think that’s the turnoff up there,” he said, nodding ahead.
To the cemetery that they’d agreed was a good spot to find Westerfield again. A few minutes later they pulled into the small gravel parking lot. She found the same double headstone, husband and wife, Beatrice and Herbert; Beatrice still alive, while her husband was long gone. This time the thought of that tore her heart rather than plucking at it. She stretched out on the ground, her fingers grazing the cold granite.
He sat beside her. “In and out. You find his location, I’ll go in and nail him. He must have sensed us last time. I still think taking him by surprise is the key. Then he can’t block my abilities. Otherwise I have no idea how to take him out.”
“Eric, are you up for this? You don’t look well.” He looked as pale and gray as the granite.
“I’m fine. But first I want to check out the Tomb. That’s what we call our hideout. I need to assess the situation, see how many cops are there.”
“Don’t push yourself.”
He dropped his head, giving her a look. “Are you mothering me?”
Wow, she was. “You look like you’re going to drop. If you do, there’s no way I can drag your heavy self to the truck. I’ll have to leave you here with the ghosts.”
He smirked and then stretched out beside her. She did watch him, watched his body strain, the sweat pop out on his forehead and the veins engage in his neck. No, not watched; hovered. She didn’t like the way he looked. He was worrying her, mother hen or not.
He opened his eyes, though only about halfway. “I saw a few guys watching the area. They definitely think my people are in the house somewhere.” His voice sounded so soft she could hardly hear him. His eyes drifted shut again.
“Eric.” She shook his shoulder but he didn’t budge. His shirt was damp, his body hot. “Eric, wake up.” She heard the fear in her voice.
He was pale, yet burning up. His face and neck were covered in a sheen of perspiration. His eyes fluttered beneath his closed lids but didn’t open. His mouth moved as though he were trying to say something.
She leaned close, so close his heat enveloped her ear and cheek. “What? I can’t hear you.”
All she could hear was his exhalation of breath.
“If you’re tricking me because of the ghosts remark, you win. I’m freaked. Wake up, so I can find Westerfield.”
She hoped he was making her pay for the snide remark she’d made, since she couldn’t admit she was worried about him.
He still didn’t wake. She straddled him, her hands on his shoulders, and tried to shake him. “Eric, please. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” The fear at that sucked her breath away. She’d made light of it, but she couldn’t leave him here. “Eric!” Fear tore at her voice, stretching it taut as it echoed off the gravestones. She beat on his chest, her eyes stinging with heat. “Eric!”
Nothing. She leaned down to his heart, listening. Yes, still beating. But his mind was gone. Even his eyes weren’t moving anymore. “Eric . . .” This time the word poured out in an agonized breath. “Don’t leave me alone. I can’t do this without you.” She fell on him, sucking in deep breaths, rising and falling with his own breathing.
She sat up again.
Do
something
. She dug into his pocket where he kept his cell phone and went down his list of contacts. Names she recognized, people she’d targeted, but she’d never spoken to any of them. He seemed close to Lucas. She dialed his number and waited for what seemed forever for him to answer.
“What’s up?” he said.
Her words slammed together like a train wreck. “It’s Fonda. Something’s wrong with Eric. He was really tired, and his eyes started being dilated a few days ago, and last night he was burning up, and he just remote-viewed your Tomb and now he won’t come back, and I don’t know what to do!” She could hardly catch her breath.
“Dammit. Blue Moon is breaking him down.”
“Magnus offered him the antidote, but Eric didn’t want to lose his abilities.”
“Give him a few minutes to come out. I had these storms that would wipe me out for fifteen minutes at a time. Maybe that’s what he’s going through, too. Then he can decide if he wants to take the antidote.”
“He said you took it, right? And you’re okay?”
She heard Lucas’s bitter laugh. “It was given to me,” he clarified. “I don’t know if I’m okay or not. It’s only been a few days.”
She was watching Eric the whole time. “It’s worth it if it saves him, isn’t it? Even if he loses his abilities?” Her voice caught. “I don’t want him to die. If you care about him, if you love him, wouldn’t you do whatever it takes to save him? The way he talks about you, all of you, I know he’d do anything to save you. That’s how you people are. I know the things you’ve done for each other.”
Lucas exhaled. “Yeah. That’s what we do.”
“You’ve risked your lives for each other. You risked getting caught to warn Amy because you loved her that much. Tell me, Lucas. In my position, with Eric dying before my eyes, what would you do?”
Silence for a moment. Then his quiet voice. “I’ll give you Magnus’s number.”
She released a breath. Not exactly permission, but close enough. “I have it. Oh, and Eric said there are several men watching your place. I have to go.”
Eric groaned and opened his eyes. They were even more dilated, the pupils as big as his irises. He tried to sit up, and she grabbed at his hands and pulled him the rest of the way.
He was back. Her heart soared.
“Get away from me,” he said in a gravelly voice.
“What?” Was he possessed by Sayre? No, Sayre wouldn’t be sending her away. He’d be attacking her.
“Get away from me.” His voice was harsher now. “Take the truck and go.”
“I was kidding about leaving you here.”
He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “Get the hell away from me. Now. I don’t want to hurt you.”
She thought of his mother setting herself on fire, the nightmare she’d had. He was spiraling down into a dark place.
She scooted closer and leaned next to his face. “Eric, get in the truck. I’ll take you to Magnus. He’ll give you the antidote.”
“I’m not going in the truck with you.” He shoved her away, got up and staggered a few feet before gripping one of the gravestones for support. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you. Go to Magnus. He’ll take care of you.”
“Eric!”
He spun around again, wavering. “Do you want me to torch you? Remember how it felt, how horrible it was when it happened to Jerryl? I could do that to you.
Is that what you want?
” The snarl on his face matched his words. He was using her pain over Jerryl and her fear over what happened on purpose.
He pushed on, away from her. She went after him, and he spun around and gave her a look so acidic, so psychotic, she gasped. He continued walking toward the line of trees beyond the cemetery, his every step leaden.
She let him go, her body so full of fear, for and of him, she couldn’t move for a second. “Fine! Go, you son of a bitch! Go off and die!”
He did, stepping into the woods, holding onto a pine tree trunk for balance and then moving forward again.
Her breath came in heaving gulps. For over two months she’d lived for the moment when he died. Now that could happen without her doing a thing.
Except everything was different. She couldn’t find a speck of anger anywhere in her psyche toward him. Especially since he was pushing her away for her own safety.
She had lived her whole life in self-preservation mode. Tangling with Eric was dangerous in more ways than one. She could die a most horrible death. She could watch yet another man she cared about die a horrible death.
You care about him. You care, and not because he’s protecting you, not because he saved your ass more than once, and not because he’s sexy as hell. And as much as that scares you, letting him die would be far worse than anything you can imagine, anything you’ve gone through.
She snapped out of it and fumbled with his phone, finding Magnus on the list.
“Magnus?” she whispered when a man answered.
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“Fonda. I need your help. Eric’s gone over the edge.”
The world was spinning. All around Eric, trees swayed and spun in circles, and he had to keep holding onto them. He had waited too long.
He dropped to the ground, his legs giving out. Crap, if he set himself on fire here, he’d send up the whole forest.
Good move, Aruda.
He already felt as though he were on fire. He managed to lift his head to make sure. No, not yet. He looked beyond, and though his vision was getting blurry, he saw that Fonda hadn’t followed him in. Either she was smart, or he’d put her off. Either way, she was safe from him. He hated that he couldn’t protect her anymore. With the Rogues trapped, they couldn’t either. Magnus would. He had to believe that.
He remembered Lucas’s fever after they’d rescued him, how Amy had watched over his every breath as she tried to keep him cool. Then he saw Fonda in his mind’s eye, standing in the cemetery, fear in her eyes. Fear for him. Maybe she cared a little. That was the last thought he had before he succumbed to the darkness.
Lucas disconnected the phone and turned to the others, who were all waiting for news. He told them about Eric’s situation. “Fonda’s arranging to get him the antidote.”
He saw Amy’s surprised expression. “Is that why you offered to give her Magnus’s number?”
He nodded, his gaze on her. “It’s his only hope. She cares about him. She’s scared and desperate and doesn’t want him to die. She reminded me that sometimes we have to take risks to save the ones we love.” He stepped closer to her, and everyone else in the room fell away in his consciousness. He saw only Amy’s green eyes, filled with a different kind of desperation—and love. “She asked me if it was worth taking the chance. Even if he loses his abilities. I saw it from her side. Your side. If you were dying, I’d do anything to save you.” He put his hand on her cheek, and she leaned into it. He saw all the pain she’d experienced because of his stubborn anger. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I punished you for it.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed seeing her smile.
He rubbed away her tears with his thumbs. “And I didn’t lose my ability to get into people’s dreams. I poked into yours last night for a second. Just to test it.”
Her smile grew even wider. “Maybe you could come again tonight, and stay longer.”
“How about we spend some time together in person instead?”
Fonda walked toward the line of trees where Eric had gone. She couldn’t hear footsteps anymore.
Please don’t have gone far.
As unbalanced as he’d been, she doubted he could physically make it very far. She quietly stepped into the woods. Her heart sank when she saw him on the ground. Her body strained to run to him, but she needed to stay near the cemetery when Magnus got there.
Eric’s phone rang. Magnus! No, not the same number she called. She stepped away so Eric wouldn’t hear her and answered.
“How’s Eric?” a frantic female voice asked.
“Not good.” Fonda’s throat tightened on those words. “Who’s this?”
“Petra, his sister.”
Fonda pictured the tall, beautiful blonde from the pictures she’d seen. By the pain in her voice, she imagined Petra’s face contorted in fear.
“Magnus is coming with the antidote.”
“If I were there, I could heal him. Dammit, I’ve got to get out of here.”
A woman in the background said, “No, you couldn’t. Even if you were with him, you’d die trying.”
Petra’s words broke when she said, “Please don’t let my baby brother die. I love him so much.”