WHILE THOMAS HUNTER stood in the canyon, unraveling, Billy Rediger paced the atrium of Raison Pharmaceutical in Thailand two thousand years earlier, in our own reality—or the histories, depending on how one looked at it.
Billy took a moment to take in his surroundings: the rich golden marble floor, the huge paintings of a red and yellow flower that looked as though it might be the bug-eating variety, the gilded wallpaper, two heavy crystal chandeliers that could crush a Volkswagen. The drug giant’s exotic facade fueled his haunting impression of Raison Pharmaceutical.
This is where it had all started roughly thirty-six years ago, in this very building just outside Bangkok. Seven years before Billy had been born and whisked away to the monastery in Colorado, where he’d been raised and turned into a freak.
This was where Thomas Hunter had stumbled upon the Raison Strain, the deadly virus that turned the world upside down. How many dead was it? Hardly imaginable.
But worse than what had died was what had survived Hunter’s discovery. What would Darcy and Johnny say if they knew of the obsession that had overtaken Billy’s mind this last year? He had a pathological need to understand why his life had been profoundly impacted by these books called the Books of History.
If his two confidants knew of his quest, they would leave their safe harbor in Colorado, hunt him down, and lock him in a cage. Because they would assume that Billy was after more, wouldn’t they? More than just understanding, more than just connecting with his past, more than chasing down the truth, more than . . .
“They will see you now, sir.” The receptionist, a man named Williston, had a heavy French accent.
Billy turned, startled out of his moment of unguarded admissions. They? He’d asked to see only Monique de Raison.
He caught his image in a ten-by-ten mirror framed in heavy black ironwork. Still dressed in the same white shirt he’d thrown on just before landing eight hours earlier. The self-applied blond highlights in his red hair looked too obvious, and his head hadn’t seen a brush since the takeoff from Washington, D.C., a day earlier. Here stands Billy Rediger, one of the three famed gifted savants who turned Paradise, Colorado into a household name. The rumpled look would have to do.
He was twenty-nine going on nineteen. If they only knew.
Billy wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, squirted a dash of cinnamon freshener into his mouth, straightened his collar, and strode for the door as the dark-haired Williston looked on with a deadpan stare.
“Thank you, Williston. Thank you very much, sir. And by all means, ditch the blonde from France. Go for the local girl. It’s what you want.”
The man blinked with surprise. “Pardon?”
“Ditch Adel. You think she’s a whore, and you’re probably right. Go for the maid—what’s her name? Betty. Yes, Betty.”
The man was speechless—probably wasn’t every day a stranger told him what he was thinking. This far from home, not many knew of Billy’s unique gifting. And if they did, they associated it only with a distant face seen on the Net, not a real, living human being walking before them in three dimensions.
He stepped past the ten-foot doors into a white office with colonial latticed windows that looked out to the thick green jungle beyond. At the room’s center sat a large teakwood desk with a cream-colored lamp that shed yellow light over a clean glass top.
The dark-haired woman who stood behind the desk looked younger than her reported sixty years—all those drugs she manufactured, he supposed. After six months of searching out every scrap of information he could harvest from records far and wide, Billy felt as though he already knew Monique de Raison.
She’d accepted full control of Raison Pharmaceutical from her father, Jacques de Raison, after the Raison Strain had all but destroyed the infamous company. Rebuilding the company’s shattered image was no small task, but she’d risen to the occasion and delivered with flying colors. The sharp, dark eyes studying him as he walked toward her opened to a mind that missed nothing.
Billy knew, because it was his gift to know what anyone was thinking by looking into their eyes.
This is what Monique was thinking at the moment: Younger than I expected, dressed like a punk. Is he really reading my thoughts this very moment? Does he know I will turn him away regardless of what he hopes to accomplish? Does he know that he’s a freak?
Billy stretched out his hand. “Yes, I do know that I’m a freak.”
Monique stared at him for a moment, then lifted a pair of dark glasses from the desk and put them on, effectively blocking her mind from his probing eyes. She took his hand. “So you can do what they say.”
“Thanks to Thomas Hunter,” he said, and released her hand. Because yes, without Thomas Hunter there never would have been magic books to turn him into the freak he was. But that was all in the past.
Billy was here to change the future.
A blonde woman of about Monique’s age sat to his right, one leg crossed over the other, hands folded in her lap. She wore dark glasses already, not wanting to risk any exposure to his prying eyes, but he recognized Kara Hunter immediately. Thomas Hunter’s sister, keeper of many secrets regarding the blood Billy was seeking.
Both Kara and Monique in one sitting. He’d struck gold.
Billy crossed to Kara, who rose and offered her hand. “Mr. Rediger.”
“And you would be Kara Hunter.”
She nodded.
“Please, have a seat,” Monique said, motioning to the guest chair in front of her desk.
He did, and they both eased back into their chairs. Eyes on him, he presumed, though he couldn’t be certain what their eyes were doing behind those dark glasses.
“It is a bright day, isn’t it?” he said, failing to lighten the mood.
“What can we do for you?” Monique asked.
“Just like that, huh? You meet one of the few people alive today whose life was profoundly impacted by the Hunter legacy and that’s all you can ask?”
“Every living being on this planet was profoundly impacted by my brother,” Kara said. “Not the least, himself. You have this interesting gift because you evidently came in contact—”
“Evidently? Try conclusively.”
“Conclusively?” Monique cut in. “And what else have you concluded?”
“That thirty-six years ago Thomas Hunter claimed to have dreamed about another reality. That this other reality was, in fact, real. That the Books of History, magical books that turned words to flesh, came to us from that reality. I should know. I used them. They gave me my gift.”
“Evidently.”
“Conclusively. Did you know that I wrote about Thomas in the books? Maybe that’s why he dreamed what he dreamed and awakened in this other world of his. If I hadn’t written it, he wouldn’t have gone there, and if he hadn’t gone there, he wouldn’t have learned how to alter the Raison Vaccine and turn it into an airborne virus that did what it did. You might say I was the one who started it all. That it was all my fault, not yours, Monique.”
He knew by their silence that his role in these events was news to them, and he continued while their heads still spun.
“So here I am. Billy, the one who has a gift for seeing more than most people can see, just like Thomas Hunter had a gift for seeing, or in his case dreaming, what most don’t dream. That makes me unique, don’t you think? You could even say it gives me certain rights.”
Kara stood and paced to the window, arms crossed. She turned slowly back and studied him through her dark glasses. “Your case is fascinating, Mr. Rediger—”
“Billy. Please call me Billy.”
“Fascinating, Billy. But it’s no more than what either of us has faced. I’m sure you can appreciate that. As you obviously know, we both had a singular relationship with Thomas. You came out of your experience with this unique ability to read people’s thoughts when you look into their eyes. That sounds like a net gain. I lost a brother. Many people lost their lives.”
“Net gain?” he snapped. He tried to remain calm, but he wasn’t as adept at controlling his temper as he’d once been. “You call this curse a gain? I’m a freak! My soul haunts me. I can’t live in the same happy ignorance that the rest of you can when every lousy thought is opened to me. It’s driving me mad, and I have to root out the meaning of all this. End it all.”
“We’re sorry you’ve suffered, Billy,” Kara said, clasping her hands before her. “But the stakes were always more than feelings, yours or ours. We’ve all paid a price. I think it’s best to leave the past in the past. Don’t you?”
“Well, see, that’s just the thing, Kara.” A little too much emphasis on her name. Mustn’t sound so condescending. “I don’t think the past is in the past. For one thing, I’m not in the past. I’m here and now, a living consequence of your brother’s indiscretions.”
“Granted, you’re one of the many effects—”
“And then there’s the matter of his blood.”
He wished for a line of sight into their eyes. But he hardly needed to read their minds to know he’d hit the nerve he’d come to hit.
“Blood?” Monique said, leaning back in her chair.
“Blood. The one remaining vial of Thomas Hunter’s blood that you put in safekeeping. Did you think you two were the only ones who knew? The lab technician who withdrew the blood was named Isabella Romain and she lives in Covington, Kentucky, today. Naturally she refused to say what her mind was thinking, but I know with absolute certainty that a vial of Thomas Hunter’s blood was taken by you, Dr. Raison, for security.”
They did not deny it.
“And these eyes of mine exposed a few other secrets,” he said. “Turns out that Thomas’s blood allowed anyone who used it to wake up in the reality that the Books of History came from. Is it in fact another reality? Or is it our future? Either way, that makes the vial of blood a potent little vessel of a whole lot of fun, don’t you think? Not to mention a path to some pretty powerful books.”
Billy couldn’t stop the wild grin that twisted his lips. He was sweating, he realized. Profusely. It beaded up on his forehead and ran past his temples. With each passing week he seemed to have more difficulty maintaining control of his nerves. The tics and the sweating were the worst. Thankfully he’d managed to suppress the tics thus far. Wouldn’t do to start jerking about like a short-circuiting robot before asking them to trust him with their deepest secrets.
He took a deep breath and made an effort to appear reasonable. “Seriously, friends, I know it all. And I’ve come to ask you to bring me in.”
“In?” Monique asked, one brow raised.
“Trust me. Use me. I’m all yours.”
“To what end?”
“To what end?” It was a fair question, no matter how obvious the answer seemed to him. “Sorry, being through what I’ve been through makes that question sound a bit silly. For the purpose of survival, naturally. To that end. So that we can take this messy, crazy world and make sense of it again.”
“And just how do you propose to do that?”
“For starters, as I’m sure you realize, some would consider me a fugitive. Have been for over two years, ever since the Tolerance Act in the fabulous United States of America turned people like me into bigots. Wackos at the least. That doesn’t sit right with all people. The world is primed for more than simple, regional conflicts. Surely you can see that. The very laws that are meant to bring peace and love are gonna bring the big boom, baby.”
A bit too free with the colloquialism there.
“And?”
“And we may have the one thing that could set things right.”
Both stared without showing any reaction.
He stood and paced. “I need to connect with my past. And with the future. Are you catching my drift here?”
“Not really, no.”
“I need the blood.”
Silence. Dead giveaway.
Monique cleared her throat. “I don’t think you understand, Mr. Rediger. Even if we knew where this figment of your imagination was, this so-called vial of blood, what exactly do you think you could do with it?”
“Go into Thomas’s dreams! To the place all this began. Please, don’t tell me you haven’t tried it.”
No admission. No denial.
“You have no idea how much work it took to uncover these dark secrets of yours. Only a handful of people know what actually happened: That Thomas Hunter’s blood was altered when he crossed into the other reality. That it contained unique properties. That when even a single drop of his blood mixes with a person’s while they are dreaming, they, too, can go where he went, which might well be the future. That, my two lovely friends, sounds like a very major trip. You can’t possibly go your entire life knowing about such a thing and not try it at least once. Kinda like sex, right?”
They still didn’t seem to appreciate the simple honesty he was laying down here.
“No?” he pressed.
“Not really, no,” Monique said.
“You haven’t tried it?”
“Sex?”
“The blood!”
“We haven’t established that this blood you talk about even exists. If it does, perhaps you can tell us where we could find it. The powers you describe sound incredibly valuable.”
So, they would play it this way. What he would give to dive into their minds right now.
One way or another, he would have his way with both of their minds.
“Cute,” he said. “We’re going to pretend, then, is that it?”
Kara walked back to her chair and sat. “Please, Billy, have a seat.”
He sat again, aware that his right hand was twitching slightly.
“Tea?”
Tea? A bit late to ask him if he wanted to break bread with them. On the other hand, this represented a sea change in at least Kara’s attitude toward him. Yes, indeed. At least a pretention of being sweet.
“No thank you, Kara. No tea at the moment, but thank you for offering.”
She smiled. “Perhaps we were a bit too hasty in dismissing you. Let’s try a different approach, shall we? After Thomas left, my life never seemed to find its true bearing.”
“Careful, Kara,” Monique warned in a low voice.
Kara glanced at her friend. “It’s okay. He obviously knows at least some of the truth.” Back to Billy. “But you must understand how dangerous your knowledge is. I’m not sure you do. In the wrong hands, what you know could bring about more pain and suffering than you can possibly imagine.”
“Oh, I think I can imagine it just fine. Why do you think I’m here? I’ve spent every waking minute for the last year thinking of it, tracking you two down.”
“The information you have could end life as we know it,” Kara continued. “It could bring the great dragon down from the sky and fill the oceans with blood,” Billy said. “Saint John’s Apocalypse.”
He could only imagine them blinking behind their shades. Too much, way too much. His imaginations were a thing that he should keep strictly to himself. He should know that by now. Not even these two had the capacity to go where his mind went, which is why he was suited—perhaps even prepared, preordained, chosen, all of that rot—to do what needed doing now.
“As a figure of speech,” he said, circling his hand for effect, “the dragon being the symbol of death, virus, nuclear holocaust, Armageddon. Point is, if it’s all true, if a person could cross into another world with Thomas’s blood, and then return with untold secrets, they might not only unravel the past, but also solve the problems of the future. Of now.”
“We get it,” Monique said.
He couldn’t read her true sentiment by her tone; he’d become too accustomed to reading people by their minds.
“So then. You’re going to bring me in?” Billy asked.
“We should lock you up and throw away the key, Billy,” Monique said.
“What she means,” Kara inserted, “is that none of us is trustworthy with what we know. We both try to stay . . . private. We’re not sure you appreciate just how difficult that can be.”
“I was raised in a monastery. I think that qualifies me.”
“Perhaps. But we don’t know where the blood is, Billy. Or if it even still exists. We’ve removed ourselves from that knowledge.”
“For everyone’s sake,” Monique said.
Nonsense. Billy knew then that they had no intention whatsoever of trusting him with the code to their front gates, much less the most potent secret the world had ever known. And why should they? He’d presented himself as a bit of a loose cannon.
But they didn’t know him. He’d danced with the devil himself, and he wouldn’t let these two witches stop him from doing it again.
“Well, then we’ll have to take this one step at a time,” Billy said. “I was wondering if you could recommend suitable accommodations.”
The door flew wide and a young woman walked in, dressed in a short black dress with spaghetti straps. Bare feet, petite physique. Her black hair fell loosely past square shoulders, and her soft brown eyes cut sharply through the world.
“Excuse me, Mother. So sorry to interrupt. Henri tells me you’ve decided to sell our New York research laboratory. One of my laboratories the last time I checked. Tell me why Henri has decided to speak lies.”
“So nice to see you, Janae,” Monique returned in a soothing voice. “How was your trip to France?”
“As expected.” No further explanation. Monique’s daughter, this stunning creature with a fluid French accent who looked to be in her early twenties, seemed to notice Billy for the first time. She turned her gaze on him and peeled him open with that first look.
And who is this young pip? An American, clearly, dressed to attend a rock concert. What kind of fools is Mother exposing herself to these days? And what are those monstrous glasses doing on Mother’s face?
“Mr. Rediger, please meet my daughter, Janae.” Billy saw that a thin smile had nudged the corner of Monique’s mouth northward. “But then you probably already know all about her, don’t you? Perhaps more than I do.”
The bold pronouncement left Janae silent for the moment. Billy thought it best to leave the young woman wondering.
“You might want to consider wearing dark glasses, dear Janae. Our visitor from America seems to have the ability to read minds.”
Again, silence from the spirited one. Billy decided then that he would out himself fully to the dark-haired beauty. One, because he found her strangely compelling, and two, because he thought it wise to give her a reason to find him just as interesting.
“Young pip?” He stared into her eyes. “This young pip who’s dressed to attend a rock concert is inside your mind right now, dear Janae. And what a delicious treat it is, all that hostility and resentment for having never known your father. He vanished when you were a small child, and you’re thinking even now that he held secrets that would complete you. Isn’t that what all orphans believe?”
She blinked. Her mouth parted slightly but held back the gasp some might utter when so quickly stripped. He liked her already.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m an orphan as well.”
“I think we all get the point,” Monique said. “He’s quite dangerous. I would tread carefully.”
But Billy wasn’t finished. “I’m here for the vial of blood that your mother harvested from Thomas Hunter three decades ago. Maybe you know where it is. Or you could help me find it.”
He might as well have dropped a bomb in the room.
Janae looked at her mother. “What blood?”
“This is completely unacceptable,” Kara snapped, rising from her chair.
“On the contrary, this is the only acceptable course,” Billy returned. “You need to keep an eye on me. What better way than to keep me close? You know I won’t put up with either of you babysitting me.”
His implication could hardly be stronger. He took the fact that Janae didn’t immediately reject the notion of “babysitting” him as a sign of her interest. A glance into her eyes confirmed this.
On second look, interest was a bad word choice to describe her disposition toward him. Fascination was better. Billy turned back to the others.
Kara was clearly on rough ground. “Surely you can’t—”
“It’s okay, Kara,” Monique said. “He’s right. He can stay in the guest quarters until his curiosity is satisfied. God knows we’re all better off with him here than out there where real damage can be done.”
Monique de Raison thought she could control him, Billy realized. Anyone else and he would dismiss the possibility outright. But Monique was not anyone else. Neither was Kara.
Nor, for that matter, was Janae, who was still trying to understand him.
“Please give us a moment, Billy,” Monique said. “Williston will show you to the guest building. Janae will be right out.”
Billy stood and walked for the door. The scent of Janae’s musky perfume filled him with a sudden desire as he walked past her. Those deep, dark secrets her father had hidden from her seemed to beckon him. There was something about Janae that pulled at him like a strong tide.
“Take your time,” he said, stepping from the room.