Secret Worlds (474 page)

His forehead creased as he pondered the generations. He shrugged, and then his face split in a mischievous smile. He pointed to Alex with a shaking hand. “Not this one, though. He looks just like that bastard Castillo. Bred true, without a doubt. You never met a vainer, more egotistical sumbitch in your life.” The huffing laugh had moved into a wheezing cackle.

Alex grinned. Apparently, he’d heard this before. Lena sent him a questioning look, but he merely rubbed his chin and winked at her. She turned back to Sam.

He settled back, moving his hips slightly to find a more comfortable position. “Peller always meant us to serve them. We were tools.
Peller’s Pistons.
” His voice was strong again and angry. “From the beginning, it’s what they intended. We started willingly, but when some of us tried to walk away—” He shook his head and lifted a hand, one finger raised. His lips tucked back into his mouth as he tried to compose himself enough to continue. “Then the prisons started. And now the collars. Did you tell her about the collars?”

Alex shook his head. “No. She’ll see with her own eyes soon enough. But…” He hesitated before plunging on, “She’s already been on one of the tables.”

Sam went still. His watery eyes stared up at the younger man. His chin crumpled. “The tables? They had their hands on your pretty girl?” He shook his head.

He turned to Lena and the violence in his face shocked her.

Even after he began speaking again, his voice full of rage and grief, his head went on shaking minutely. “But look at you. Here. Strong. Strong, not like my Miranda.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat, a rheumy sound. “She was a strong girl, so feisty, but not strong like you are.” His focus moved over her in the particular way Sparks had when they were looking at an aura and not a person.

“And she was too young. I had no business taking up with her. I was almost a hundred and fifty years old by then. I knew what they were capable of.” His voice moved higher, thinning with grief and tears.

Alex got to his feet and went to Sam, crouching before him and putting a hand on the man’s slight shoulder. “Sam,” he murmured, “it’s okay. We can come back later.”

Sam looked up at him, his face dark as he began losing himself to the memories. “They take what you love. They twist and break it. And then they throw it back to you and wait for you to break.”

“I know, Sam. I’m sorry. I wish it was easier to focus on the good you had. I’m sorry our visit brought this back again.”

The old man waved his hand and took several deep breaths, as if preparing to continue. But in a moment, his gaze unfocused, and he stared ahead. His eyes moved as if he watched something before him that they couldn’t see. He closed them as he curled in toward his lap, crumpling in on himself, and he waved his hand at Alex again. This time the wave of dismissal was final.

Alex leaned his head in and whispered in Sam’s ear. Sam shook his head. Alex sat back on his heels, sighed, and shook his head at Lena.

She rose and leaned in to press her hand to Sam’s shoulder before crossing to wait in the hall.

Alex took the tray with the pitcher of water and set it on the chair she’d just vacated. He moved them within easy reach of Sam and then joined her. He turned back and gently closed the door behind them.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” He took an uneven breath and ran his hands through his hair. “He’s had a long time to live with what happened to Miranda. Of course, he only touched on the part I wanted you to hear. About what we’re doing and why, so you can trust—”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

He turned to her, dark and inscrutable as he searched her face. “I spent a lot of time up here growing up. More than was officially sanctioned. I heard about Miranda a lot.” He reached out and silently tapped his fingertips against Sam’s door before withdrawing his hand. “C’mon. We have a lot to get done today before I have to be back in Azcon. Daylight’s burning.”

He moved past her, his feet making no sound on the carpeted floor.

Alex led the way outside, but Lena hesitated behind him. He turned back. She squinted against the bright light, glancing side to side to check for others using the patio. He cursed silently. Thomas would have to call a meeting. She shouldn’t be uncomfortable here where he’d promised her a safe place. The men of Fort Nevada would just have to have to learn to deal with her presence and with what it did to them. He had.

He walked backward and called out to her, “What’s the hold up? C’mon. Thomas said you liked it out here. So move it.” He turned back to head up one of the red gravel paths.

Her footsteps crunched down the path behind him.

He wound around on the path for two more turns and then arrived at his destination, one of his favorite spots in the garden. A gravel circle created a side area off of the path, somewhat hidden by a pair of desert willows flanking the opening. Benches faced each other from the edges of the gravel. He positioned himself in front of one bench and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited for her, psyching himself up for both the focus and the pain.

Lena entered the court and wandered toward the other bench, keeping her eye on him.

“I want you to try to hurt me,” he told her. He tapped his chest. “Hit me.”

She raised her hands up between them.

Did she think he wanted her to slap him? He rolled his eyes. “No, Lena. Not with your hands.” He smirked. “As if you could.”

Her hands popped to her hips in attitude.

Yeah, she was tough. She’d lived in the desert on her own, chopped her own wood, trapped and hunted her food, defended herself and her home from animals and men. And he admired it. But being strong was entirely different from being able to fight. He hadn’t meant to insinuate she was weak, but he guessed that’s what she took from his comment.

She glowered at him.

He laughed. “You’re adorable.” If he had to make her angry to make this work, he was willing. Of course, since he wasn’t exactly sure this would work, perhaps he should tone it down a little. “No, seriously. I dropped the defense I worked out. I’ve been practicing getting it up fast, in response to an attack, but I need to see if it works. So, hit me. With the Dust.”

She arched a brow at him. “Why? I’m the only one who can attack like this, and unless you keep pissing me off, I’m not coming after you.”

He made a face. “Actually, Thomas once managed something similar years ago. And I’m becoming more and more convinced you may not be the only one now, either. Or at least, not for much longer.” He stood straight again and tapped his chest, grinning at her. “So, c’mon, you still mad at me? Even a little? Hit me.”

He barely finished his sentence. His lungs and muscles shut down. His body stiffened, inside and out, as the muscles froze. She withheld the pain this time, but she waited impassively as he struggled. He pulled in his focus and visualized what he wanted.

My body. My response.

The squeezing in his lungs cleared, and his contracted muscles eased. He tilted his head back and drew in a deep breath. His hands unclenched. His head swung around on his neck. After a moment, he grinned at her, pleased with her raised brows and impressed expression. “Told you. Now do it again, but switch it up. Do something I wouldn’t expect.”

Lena nodded at him.

Alex doubled over at the sudden stabbing, twisting, acid burn of pain in the muscles and cells of his gut. He grabbed his belly, eyes wide. After a moment, he dropped to a crouch and groaned. How was he supposed to focus through this pain? He could hear himself panting, and he focused on that instead. He counted, visualized turning the Dust away from its attack, and used his sawing breaths as a countdown. Thirty seconds later, he raised his head, dazed but recovering. Did his face reflect how sick he felt?

“That wasn’t nice,” he said. “Another few seconds, and I would have shit myself.” He couldn’t believe he’d admitted that. He couldn’t believe it had almost happened.

She tried not to laugh but failed. “Sorry,” she told him, unrepentant.

It was his turn to glower at her.

“You told me to do it,” she protested. “And besides, you did stop it. You’re pretty good at this.”

He gingerly stood, holding his stomach. “That was brutal.” He tilted his head back and forth and swallowed. “Remember that one if you’re ever in a tight spot.”

“Absolutely.” She paused. “Wanna go again?”

Obviously, she enjoyed this.

“Huh.” He took a couple of steps to the side and back, trying to help the muscles in his lower belly relax. “Why don’t I try to hit you? I’ve been working on it, too. I can actually make some sparks across a room now.”

Lena shrugged. She was obviously of the opinion that sparks did not an attack make, and he’d been thoroughly unsuccessful at learning how to attack thus far. Everyone she’d tried to teach had been. They couldn’t get it.

The failure frustrated him. They could heal. They could defend. They were getting better and better at doing regular things from a distance. Not a single one of them could learn her attacks.

Alex cleared his throat and prepared himself. He pushed the breath out of his lungs, reaching out with his mind to the Dust inside of her, on her skin, floating free in the air around her. He tried talking to the Dust within her, the way he’d recently learned to talk to his own.

It didn’t respond.

Frustrated, he raised his inner voice.

Still nothing.

He took a long breath, closed his eyes, and tried again, calmer.

He couldn’t sense even a hint of a response.

She cleared her throat, and the quiet noise echoed through their small clearing like a rock falling.

Alex opened his eyes.

“Not working?” Her soft question oozed disappointment. Clearly, she felt the failures, too.

He shook his head.

“Try again,” she suggested.

He did.

Alex tried over and over, until his head throbbed. Finally, he sank down onto the bench behind him. He rested his aching head in his hands and breathed. When he looked up again, she had taken a seat across the little clearing from him. From her face, she had something on her mind.

“You have questions.” He made a ‘give it to me’ gesture, flipping his fingers toward himself.

“I do have questions,” she answered. “About Sam.”

“Okay. Shoot.”

“First…he said Peller was in the CIA. What’s the CIA?”

“From what he’s told us, it was a government organization of agents who watched and listened and kept order, but used questionable tactics.”

“So, basically, exactly like all of you?”

Yeah, he walked right into that one.

He winced and tried to shake his head. The movement stalled, and he barked a laugh. “I suppose.” He could hear how guarded his own response was. He had to work on that. Somehow, at some point, she’d have to learn to trust him.

“So our government was founded by a shady, deceitful agent. And the people who are trying to fix the system are…agents…who are basically the same thing?”

Fort Nevada was not filled with deceit. “No. No, we are not basically the same thing.” Alex leaned back, his hand thumping on the bench beside him in frustration. He opened his mouth to speak, but she waved him off.

“It’s okay. I’m not trying to antagonize you. I only wanted to know what he was referring to. So, my second question is a little more personal.” She shifted on her bench and looked down at the ground. “The breeding program made all of us…all of the Sparks? So we’re all descended from the same group of men?”

He nodded. “More or less. The ability is a native one. All humans could have it. But yes, the strongest of us are descended from the men the scientists…refined.”

“How many were there?”

“Originally? Sixty-four. But only fifty-two of them participated.” It wasn’t a big number, which was why they had built in the safeguards.

“Fifty-two? That’s not many.”

“They keep records. They were very careful, especially in the beginning. It’s one of the reasons why the Wards are sent out to new Zones when they become agents. And why they can’t go back.” The old pain twinged. With her, he didn’t have to keep it from his voice. She understood.

“New blood.”

He nodded.

“And it’s the real reason all of you want me?”

He could see the fresh wound on her face.

“I can’t speak for Jackson,” he answered her. “But I’d be lying if I told you it wasn’t a factor. Terrible as it was, the reason the breeding program was so effective is the Spark breeds true. Your Spark will, too. And as a weapon against the Council, a future filled with Sparks who can do what you do, maybe
more
? I’m sorry. That’s more important to us than feelings.”

“My Spark will
breed true
?” She shook her head. “You’re all assuming I’ll allow it to breed at all.”

Alex felt his brows draw down. “Allow it? You can control your fertility—of course you can control that.” As soon as he’d seen her expression, mocking him for thinking she wouldn’t use her gifts to make her own life easier, he’d amended the question. “Here we all were, thinking the only issue would be who you chose. But it isn’t just who, it’s also when.”

“No. It’s
if.
I don’t even know that I want children, and it’s certainly not going to happen until I tell the Dust to allow it.” She looked down at her hands.

Because she’d turned her face to the ground, he almost missed her next, soft question.

“Is that why Jackson kept backing off? Thomas decided Jackson was an inappropriate choice and he just…caved?” She nodded, a faraway look on her face, and it seemed to be an answer to her own question. “I thought he cared. I thought….”

She needed comforting. He didn’t want to do it. What was the point of telling her a lie? Love gave the world a weapon it could turn on you. They’d both lived that.

But he found himself rising to his feet and crossing to her, anyway. He lowered himself to a crouch in front of her, taking both her small hands in one of his and using the first fingers of his other hand to tilt her chin up.

“If Jackson won’t take a stand for you, then he’s a fool,” he said. He could tell her that much. It was the truth, even if the kid would have been bucking Alex’s own orders. “A
fool
. And any man who is given the chance to win a piece of your heart and doesn’t claim it….” He shook his head. “Worse than a fool.”