DEATH WEEPS

Book 5

New York Times Bestselling Author

TAMARA ROSE BLODGETT

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

www.tamararoseblodgett.com

TRB Facebook Fan Page

Editing suggestions provided by Stephanie T. Lott

Synopsis

Caleb faces possible jail time for using Clyde as a undeadly weapon. When he's exonerated with probation lasting a year, Caleb has to watch his every action. Tensions run high when after the death of Jade's only relatives, she must live with an undesirable foster family who are anything but what they seem....

Life gets complicated for everyone when the scientists responsible for the paranormal manifestation threaten a parellel world to Caleb's own. In a bid to stop the destruction of their world, while saving his own, Caleb must defend two peoples against the long arm of the Graysheets.

Time begins to run against him when he discovers through an unlikely source that his friends have been given a drug that causes progressive insanity. Can he find the antidote in time to save them

To save Jade?

DEDICATION:

Levi

Who has great ideas and an old soul, thank you.

CHAPTER ONE

Ten months ago

The Judge looked at me, really looked at me. For once I didn't have a smart-ass comment. They were there though, swirling around in my head like brain fog.

I stood beside my lawyer, who represented me in my case. I was in trouble for using the dead as a weapon.

Bad monkey.

Gramps, Mom and Dad sat behind a thick balustrade made of dense wood from a hundred years ago. They'd never use trees for that now.

It was easy for them to prove Death Intent. That I had it—that I'd used it.

Ya see, the courts had Empaths, all they had to do was give the accused a skin test and they knew the flavor of somebody's thoughts. Now, you'd think that the Empath could maybe lie about the accused. Nope. Cross-check, there was a second Empath from another district keeping them honest, as Gramps would say.

“Young man,” the Judge began, his loose jowls flapping as he spoke, “you are aware of the seriousness of these allegations as they pertain to you, and the greater majority of paranormals?”

I nodded.

His eyebrows slowly rose.

“The accused will respond with a yes or no answer,” the Judge prompted.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said.

“Yes or no,” the Judge repeated.

Geez, bust my damn balls. “Yes.”

My attorney (a fancy pants dude my dad had snagged from the legal team that defended his company) stiffened beside me. Everyone was so tense, the reporters were barred from the proceedings because I was emancipated but still a student. They couldn't get inside; which meant they couldn't cover everything to death. They especially couldn't blow it out of proportion and then spew the crap to the world.

Currently, they were outside the nine foot tall solid wood doors of the courtroom writhing around in their own bath of nosiness.

I got the crooked mouth thinking about it.

My attorney looked at me in horror.

Before the hysterical urge to Laugh at Inappropriate Times began, the courtroom door slammed open and Garcia, Gale and Clyde came in.

Immediately, I felt calmer.

It's funny what having a corpse around will do for someone that's AFTD like myself. Five points plus. Life-transference was no longer a theory but a reality.

Yeah, that's me. Sucking the life out of ya was no longer a turn of phrase. It could happen.

It had.

The consequence of it was breathing down my neck. I saw the havoc of my decision every day in school.

Before I could think about it all the Judge nodded his head to the prosecuting attorney and said, “You may call your first witness.”

The Prosecutor, who looked like he had something jammed up his ass, turned to Officer Raul Garcia. “I call Officer Garcia as my first witness.”

I rolled my eyes in a Tiff-worthy way. Wonderful. He was the arresting officer, he hated Clyde, he had a hard-on for Parker... he and Gale were on the outs.

I turned, watching Garcia walk up toward the small, swinging gate made of ancient old-growth wood, his eyes meeting mine with neutrality—the warmth, gone. You'd have thought that all eyes would be on his contained, six feet of measured athleticism as he strode to the witness chair, but they weren't.

Everyone was staring at Clyde. He was something to stare at, his hand entwined with Gale's, looking alive, so very alive. His mode of dress looked beyond wrong for the current era, a feeling of otherness moved around him, pushing the very air of the room away, causing a rift of unnaturalness to those who were close. To those who knew.

Clyde was dead. He'd been dead since 1929. But here he was in the courtroom, called as witness. A brave Empath gunned for his inclusion based on her read. The reading had told her he had sufficient higher reasoning to be called.

An undead witness. The event had set a global precedence.

Finally, the eyes of the courtroom found their way back to Garcia, seated gracefully in the oversized chair that was stationed slightly below the Judge's podium-as-desk, but higher than where my accused ass was perched.

My legs were thrown out in front of me. I sat slightly slouched in the chair, my butt bones hurting from the unyielding wood of the seat (it had molded ass divots, not that the feature helped). I wanted more than anything to release my neck from the bondage of the tie but left it where it lay. Appearances, yʼknow.

I could feel Clyde like a warm pulse at my back, soothing my raw nerves. That's what a few days in a cell will do for a guy.

Luckily, I didn't fluster easy.

The Prosecutor made his stiff way toward Garcia, his beady eyes pegging him to the chair. Like Garcia would ever ruffle. He was an unflappable dude, that one.

The prosecuting attorney folded his hands behind his back, his suit tightened awkwardly across the shoulders as he began to pace back and forth in front of Garcia.

“Officer Garcia,” he began, “please state for the jury in what capacity you serve the Kent Police Department.”

Garcia took a deep breath. “I'm lead homicide in the Paranormal Crimes Division with a specialty in Juvenile.”

Prosecutor smiled.

Apparently this was marvelous.

His toothy grin looked a little like alligator-mouth from my vantage point.

“Excellent. Are you acquainted with the accused?”

“Yes,” Garcia stated easily.

“In what manner?”

“I responded to a call from a juvenile about two years ago.”

“What type of call?”

Garcia's dark eyes flicked to the twelve people in the jury then answered, “Cemetery call.” Two words, tersely delivered.

“Why would you go to the cemetery?”

Garcia wiped his hands against the perfectly creased uniform pants he wore. “There'd been a zombie sighting. The caller assumed she saw a corpse.”

“Were those allegations valid?”

Garcia tensed. “No. We saw no proof to that affect.”

“Yet,” Prosecutor whirled, throwing his palm out—towards Clyde, “there the undead sits. Clearly, zombies are a new reality.”

“Is that a statement or a question?” Garcia asked Prosecutor.

My crooked mouth, held in check, broke into a grin. Garcia was getting snarky with old crocodile mouth.

Prosecutor narrowed his eyes on Garcia, having to rethink his supposition that this was a dumb cop he was dealing with. Garcia was a few things, but dumb wasn't a part of his package.

Judge turned to Prosecutor. “Exactly where are you going with this counselor? We are aware that zombies exist. Clearly the accused, as a 5-point Affinity for the Dead, is keenly aware.” He cocked a bushy eyebrow, the hair in so many directions it looked like caterpillars were above his eyes.

Yeah, I was pretty aware about reanimated corpses.

“Humor me please, if you will, Your Honor.”

The judge tapped his fingers on the wide wood desk. “Be quick about it then.”

Prosecutor inclined his head, turning to Garcia once more. “There is a trend with Mr. Hart perpetrating crimes which involve the undead, then your subsequent response to those crimes.”

“Objection!” my attorney called out. “Alleged crimes.”

Prosecutor smiled, his big teeth gleaming with a yellow cast under the old-fashioned fluorescent light fixture. Grandfathered bulbs, I thought randomly.

“Alleged,” he conceded.

“I will illustrate and tie together the sequence of events which will clearly show Mr. Hart's premeditated crimes.”

“Objection!” my attorney sprung from his chair, and it slid backward, grating across the floor, blaring into the silent courtroom like a mechanical shout.

Judge turned to Prosecutor, his crawling eyebrows jacking down over his eyes.

Uh-huh. Prosecutor pissed in the Judge's Wheaties. He swiveled that stare to the stenographer, “Strike that last, Eileen.”

Eileen's fingers hesitated over the pulse pad, then resumed. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Silence fell on the courtroom. Prosecutor turned again to Garcia. “Please outline each instance when you responded to a call in which Mr. Hart was involved.”

Garcia did. I watched the jury go from bored witnesses to engaged and curious. They looked at me.

They looked at Clyde.

When Garcia had finished, the courtroom was quiet then the Judge turned to Garcia. “You're free to go Officer Garcia.”

He slammed his gavel down on the solid wood of his beefy throne and said, “Next witness.”

“The people call Clyde Thomas.”

Clyde rose from his position, and I turned to catch his eyes.

They were already on me. Deeply green, muddied, like moss on the forest floor, he stared into mine.

Then winked.

A grin broke over my face and as Clyde came forward a surge of death energy rolled over me, embracing me in its familiar comfort. The anxiety of being here, accused of Death Intent and the “lesser” atrocity of using the undead as a weapon, rolled away under the weight of my ability.

Affinity for the Dead.

Clyde was so graceful, but there was something that lurked underneath the surface of his body, the rot—gone. The zombie strength boiled invisibly, his intensity and strength underscored by his focus as he strode to the witness chair. He turned, pivoted smoothly and sat, running a hand down the front of trousers that looked like some kind of itchy wool blend. Prosecutor had backed up when he came and now he pressed forward.

Clyde gave him untroubled eyes while the Judge outright stared.

The scene was worth a look. It wasn't every day you'd get a zombie in your courtroom as witness.

Prosecutor turned to the Judge. “Some latitude Judge?”

“Very little, counselor,” the Judge said, his eyes like raisins pushed into fleshy dough, trained on gangly Prosecutor.

Prosecutor frowned. Then he turned those baleful eyes to me. “I would ask that Caleb Hart compel his zombie to be fully truthful so that we may have an unfettered and true account of the events of two weeks ago.”

“Objection!” my attorney ranted. The crooked mouth was so hanging around for the duration because he was so lawyer-in-a-box about the whole deal.

“I'll allow it,” Jowly Judge said. I had to tip my head to my breastbone to keep a hysterical fit from starting. I bit the inside of my mouth. When I looked up Clyde gave me a knowing Mona Lisa smile.

It about did me in.

The Judge gave me a strange look and said, “Come forward, young man.”

I did, stepping into the circle with Toothy. Clyde sat in the witness chair like he was getting ready to sip tea with his favorite friend instead of getting nailed for crimes.

His Master getting nailed.

“Mr. Hart, you are aware you're still under oath?”

“Yeah,” I looked at Toothy and grinned like an idiot. It was that or laugh.

“Is something amusing, Mr. Hart?”

I swear I could hear Mom groan in the audience. Hell, I was gonna have to get control of my shit. I mastered my expression with a supreme effort, internally thanking whatever was holy that the Js weren't around for this.

“No sir,” I said, covering my mouth and trying to look subtle.

“Good. Compel your zombie to be fully truthful.”

I turned to Clyde, the jury members leaning forward.

“Clyde,” I began. His gaze glittered in understanding, missing nothing, “please tell these guys everything that happened that day.”

He regarded me in his steady way. “I will, Master.”

I turned to Crocodile. “Satisfied?”

Prosecutor smiled, feral in his supremeness and nodded. “Quite, Mr. Hart.”

He turned, ready to drill Clyde. But I knew that Clyde was from a bygone era, was smart. Better than all that... he was mine. Fueled by my energy, more alive than most but with one foot in the grave. A paradox.

“State your full name for the record,” Prosecutor said flatly.

“Clyde Thomas.” Clyde stared at him.

Unblinking.

Prosecutor jerked the sides of his jacket down with deluded self-importance.

“And how old are you sir?”

“Twenty-nine.”

Prosecutor smirked. “In real time, Mr. Thomas.”

“One hundred twenty-seven,” Clyde answered instantly, a smile overtaking his face.

“What are you?” Prosecutor shot back.

“A man,” Clyde said, mirth seeping into his tone.

Prosecutor flushed a deep, brick red in response to Clyde's subtle rankling of him.

“You know what I'm asking so answer it.”

“Counselor!” the Judge admonished and Prosecutor flicked his eyes to the Judge, then back at Clyde.

“You must ask the right question, counselor,” Clyde said in a measured way.

Prosecutor's hands clenched into fists as he struggled to control a temper he usually had no trouble containing.

I had that effect on people. Nice to know my zombie could be a team player.

“Fine. Are you a zombie?”

“Yes.”

Prosecutor straightened, satisfied that he once again had the upper hand.

I smiled. I knew he didn't.

“Are you dead?”

“Yes.”

The jurors gasped.

I whispered something to my attorney who nodded in agreement, Clyde's eyes shifting from Toothy to me.

My attorney stood.

The Judge's eyes went to my attorney. “Yes?” he put up a palm to halt the interrogation from Toothy.

Toothy huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

“May I interject a question on behalf of my client?” my defense attorney queried.

“That is not usually allowed,” the Judge said, his eyes shifting from me to my attorney.

“It brings balance to the current question.”

The Judge leaned back in his chair, his bulk making it creak in protest. He steepled his fingers. “It better balance it alright.”

“Yes, Your Honor, I think it does.”

“Approach the witness and ask your question.” Then, “No,” he paused, looking at the two lawyers like sharks circling each other in a fishbowl, “you tell him the question,” he pointed at Prosecutor, “and he will address the... witness,” he said, indicating Clyde.

My attorney walked to Toothy, telling him the question.

Prosecutor backed up. “No! I will not—that makes no sense,” he said in an astounded answer.

My attorney stared at him until Prosecutor’s eyes fell, then he hissed out, “It's relevant and you know it!”

Toothy pegged his hands on his skinny hips, then narrowed his eyes at Clyde.

Seconds passed, the courtroom held its collective breath.

Finally he asked, “Are you alive?”

Clyde paused for a heartbeat, two. Then his eyes shifted to a point in the audience. Bobbi Gale. He looked at her when he answered. “Oh yes.”

The courtroom was instantaneously plunged into a vortex of noise and chaos.

The gavel came down on top of the Judge's great wooden desk, over and over again. “Order!” he sputtered.

Clyde's eyes held mine.

We smiled at each other.

It was gonna be okay.

CHAPTER TWO

Present day

Beep! Beep! Beep!

My dream of the courtroom shattered like a million pieces of broken glass. It was a rare night anymore that I was dreamless.

My arm flung out until it made serious contact with my Indestructible Pulse Clock. Actually, they were plenty destructible—this was my third one.

I turned over on my back and Onyx belly crawled along the top of my bed and gave a long lick to my cheek. Disgusting. I patted his head anyway, “Good dog, Onyx.”

Wag-thunk-wag.

Dogs were always in the same mood every day... good. No morning issues. They dug Mondays just like any other day. I fantasized briefly about how cool it would be to be a dog.

No parents.

No homework.

No interference. I frowned at that last thought. My probation was almost up.

I looked around my room, mainly clean now. I guess I was kinda bored if things were even remotely organized. But with Jade coming over all the time... hell, I just couldn't hide my homework and stuff in my clothes bin. She'd asked disturbingly logical questions.

Like: how come your dirty clothes aren't in there?

Or, my personal favorite... where are your clothes?

I grabbed my slick new pulse. It was a smart pulse. (As opposed to dumb?) And thumb-swiped it to awake.

Hello Caleb, we are currently running updates. Your pulse communication system will be operational in three minutes and twenty-six point four seconds.

So much for smartness. I had to wait to pulse Jade because these jagups were running an update. I noticed how they loved to run dumbass updates only when I needed to pulse somebody.

Effing Murphy's Law.

But it wasn't just anybody, it was Jade. She had to be checked on. Every day.

Now that she'd been with that loser foster family for almost a year, it was my daily chore. I'd worked the whole summer again as a Yard Servant to the Rich (which included lectures from Gramps about how lucky I was not having to do the acres of lawn mowing that he had to in his day).

Right, uh-huh.

I'd bought a special pulse-lock for her bedroom door at the foster family's house. She lived in the basement, translation: dungeon. There was one small and narrow window. It ran about one and a half meters wide by forty-six centimeters tall. I was sure it broke every lame fire code there was. I bet Jade could escape if she needed to because she was so small, but a dude? No way.

They couldn't get in now, though. That lock was the Rock of Gibraltar. Impenetrable. Except, of course, for Archer. He could kick any lock's ass. He was an asset to the group. Totally.

I swung my legs to the floor, grabbing my pulse-reader off the corner of my desk where my pulsetop monitor was suspended over the writing surface. Pulse magnetization held the monitor in midair.

I slipped out the door and went downstairs in my boxers, heading toward the laundry room. Hadn't quite gotten the hang of putting away my clothes and crap but they were in the dryer, clean. A step up for me.

Mom had her back to me so I tried to sneak by.

Got nailed anyway.

“Caleb!”

Onyx trotted behind me and I never slowed, answering as I walked, “Yeah!”

“Clothes!”

“They're in the dryer, Mom,” I replied.

I knew a rant was coming.

“You need to fold them and put them in the drawers.”

Uh-huh, I'd get right on that. I looked down at the pulse. “Uh-huh,” I muttered as I swiped my thumb across the pad.

Operational, thirty seconds.

Eff... finally. I pushed open the dryer door and jerked out a shirt, a pair of jeans, socks and new boxers bunched in my left hand.

Onyx started sifting through the sorted dirty piles on the floor.

“Knock it off!” I hissed at Onyx. “Mom's gonna have ten cows.”

I turned.

There was Mom, hands on hips, her brows drawn together. “Do we need to have another responsibility discussion?”

I didn't think I ever needed one of those, especially after that beaut of a dream and it being Lame Monday and everything. No. “No,” I said aloud, breezing past her on the way to the bathroom.

“I don't ask much, Caleb.”

Right, and monkeys fly outta my ass.

“But I'd like for you to at least remove your laundered clothing from the dryer.”

“Yeah, okay Mom. Can we talk about all this fun stuff later?”

Dad came into the kitchen and arched his eyebrows. “Got your stuff there, pal?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Great, have a good day at school, I've got to head in early.”

Good. Day. At. School. Yeah. The only thing that made it good was seeing my girl.

Shit! I looked at my pulse.

The luminescent characters came together in a rush: Operational.

I swiped it as I locked myself in the bathroom and jerked on the tap for the hot water.

Just a small pulse, I told myself, seeing that time was not my friend.

Top Five Contact: Hot One.

Hey- Stud

Hey back- Hot One

Is everything okay? Stud

Yes... for now. Let's talk more later when we get to school- Hot One

I knew that was code for her walking on her tiptoes around the False Ass Fam.

Okay, you're not...

Break in pulse communication

No, no... I'm fine, I just want to get out of here as soon as I can- Hot One

K, just checkinʼ in- Stud

I know smiles- Hot One

Love ya- Stud

Me too- Hot One

I swiped to hibernate and stepped into the shower. The warm spray ran down my face and hit the porcelain of the shower pan. I was thinking about everything. The nightmare of the last ten months. The problems with Brett, waiting for a Parker Interruption, my probation. All of it.

We'd only just started junior year and already the crap was rollinʼ downhill. Jade had a month before she could take possession of her aunt's house legally, not that she could live there right away. The place looked like a dump now. The weeds that were once a choked but short brown lawn grew up in strangled patches like forgotten islands in the middle of a sea of muck.

I sighed, remembering the awful move into her foster family's house. The situation was almost worse that they lived in the same neighborhood.

So close to her former house and the memories of the murders there.

So close to Brett, his spark of life given freely and now part of why Jade lived.

I felt myself scowl and turned off the water tap with a slap, the spigot groaning under the assault. I stepped out and approached the fogged mirror. Wiping my forearm across the glass, I made a clear swath so I could shave. A routine that was so fun I wanted to stab myself in the eye. And to think I thought I'd be such a Man when I could. Now it was buying the razor that had the best blades so it might actually cut the hair off my face rather than tearing it off.

Jade liked a little stubble, she'd told me and I smiled over that. That's not all she liked, I thought with a little perv-glee. I thought we were getting pretty close to doinʼ the deed, but I hadn't pushed. This year had been kinda awful. Her dad and aunt both dying—how it all went down. Then the move to the Foster Fam from Hell.

Yeah, the old love life took a back seat to all that noise. Now Brett was an added complication. He was totally in love with my girl. And there wasn't jackshit I could do about it. After all, if I hadn't given her a piece of him, Brett might've just stayed infatuated, feeling all Knight in Shining Armor and feelings would have faded.

Instead of intensifying.

I nicked myself on my chin. That GD cleft was a pain in the ass to shave.

Jonesy called the dimple a butt chin.

Dad said it was the way to tell if your parents were biologically yours (insert internal eye-roll here). One of the Parents had to have an ass chin or you were a stork kid.

I smiled at my reflection, washing off the razor and clicking it three times on the rolled porcelain rim of the wash basin and eyed my jaw critically. Yeah, I had a butt chin, but not too much, just an indent really—not the crater some dudes had.

Jade liked to kiss it too. I whistled a little as I walked out the bathroom door, thinking about stuff.

Mom was outside, my lunch pulse at the counter's edge. She lifted it like a small flag. “I credited your month already.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred.”

“Mom, that's not gonna cover the second milk.”

“Going...” she paused, and I frowned at her correction. “Alrighty... another...?”

“Fifty bucks, Mom.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. I don't know why. Dad made a buttload of cash being the Big Scientist, they could ante up for the milk. Hell, I bet we could have an incinerator in the house to burn away the extra money. Mom didn't believe in Waste though. She wanted me to have a “balanced” childhood.

Yeah, that worked out. Shit was so normal in the Hart Household. Hell, we'd just gotten Clyde weaned from hanging around the trash separators.

She laid the lunch credit pulse card against the disc behind her ear and thought the additional money into the thing, handing it to me.

“I want the...”

“Change, yeah Mom, duh.”

“Caleb...”

“Mom, I think I'm clear about the change now?” I responded, cocking an eyebrow.

She frowned again, smoothly changing the subject, “Did you get the weekend squared away with the gang?”

I nodded, it was Labor Day, and Gramps was torching flesh on the BBQ-er.

Mom looked at her clasped hands nervously.

I hesitated at the door, Onyx's tail whacking into my knee in classic dog-rhythm.

Her eyes met mine, so like Gramps. I knew what she was thinking and answered her unspoken question, “Yeah, I won't forget.”

“I'm sorry to remind you like this all the time Caleb... you're nearly an adult now it's just.” Her eyes welled with tears and I fought being a male then, I just wasn't upset or emotional about the whole thing. I'd been tried, there were rules in place, my youth had protected me, just not fully.

“I'll check in with probation, Mom,” I said, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“I'm just scared you'll go to jail,” she admitted in a whisper.

Well hell, me too.“Nah, it's been forever, I've got—what—two months? Then I'm off the hook.” I gave her a wider smile than I felt.

I hated checking in with probation, I hated feeling like I was guilty of something that I knew I couldn't have handled differently. It was different when the people that made the rules had never been challenged with the things they were making the rules for.

Lame.

Mundanes shouldn't be judging paranormals. If I had it my way, only paranormals would judge paranormals. Where was their damn point of reference anyway?

Nowhere.

I grabbed the lunch credit pulse and stuffed it in the back of my jeans. I shot Mom a last look and she returned a watery smile.

Onyx gave a little whine at the door.

I thunked him affectionately on his squarish black head. “You be a good dog when I'm gone and take care of Mom, ʼkay?” That last part was for Mom's benefit.

Obviously, Onyx couldn't know what I meant.

The Dog pushed his head into the Boy's hand and closed his eyes in pleasure at the rough pat the Boy gave. The Boy had a specific way of showing he was Pleased with the Dog that was unique to him. He relished being one of the favorites in the pack.

The Dog cocked his ears at the command, swiveling his eyes to the Alpha Female. He watched her all the time as it was? Was there a reason for this special directive?

He lifted his nose into the air, scenting it for the emotion of the pack... he smelled the faintest aroma of the water that females so often made from their eyes. It was perplexing. The scent was not especially unlike the emotion he would scent on other sentient beings after injury... yet, none was present.

The humans were a mystery. Complicating things beyond what the Dog could understand.

He gave a bark in response to his Boy. He would Watch the Alpha Female this day.

Huh—Onyx barked like an answer. Oh well, he was paying attention even if he didn't understand. I gave him a little scratch behind his ears.

The Dog felt the answer from his Boy, the pleasure in the affirmation that he would do as he was told.

He loved his Boy.

I walked out the door feeling pretty good about the day (even though it was a Monday). I pulsed the lock open on the Camaro and slid behind the wheel, the locks engaging when I shut the door.

I headed over to Jade's, internally tensing when I thought about running into her foster brother. I hated that guy; I'd like to see his steaming guts on the side of the road. Actually, I got a nice smile thinking about that as a solution. I was going to Reactive Management classes and the instructor there would have said I needed to visualize my inner calm.

I think I missed getting that when they were handing them out to people. Like I don't even think I was in line for that.

That was part of the Fun Probation. They'd determined in court that I needed to learn better control.

Translation: I needed to not allow zombies to pop up every time shit got exciting. Yeah, like they could manage that? Them and who else?

Asshats.

The Camaro purred up to the curb, not two blocks from Jade's old house and she looked as if her hand had been on the knob, just waiting to escape. I got outta the car and walked around to her door. I'd like to claim I was a gentleman and wanted to open the car door, but what I really wanted was to put my hands on her and know she was safe, feel her tangible presence like a solid weight in my grasp.

Make sure she was okay.

I so couldn't wait until her birthday. All this skulking around would be over. Her lame ten o'clock curfews, the rationed food—her creepy ass foster siblings. I had no patience for their motivations. It was really obvious to me—to the Js. The chicks weren't so sure. Well, Tiff was sure. He remembered when Jade had gotten all her crap moved into their basement.

Tiff looked around at the dungeon-like room, cement walls and floor, not a lick of paint on any surface. Kind of looked like a garage, I thought. After a full minute of perusal, she blew a bubble the size of her head and popped it, snapping it back into compliance with a loud bang.

“Where's the drain?” she'd cackled.

“What?” Jade asked, frowning.

“Ya know, so you can just hose down the place when it needs a scrub.”

Jade had burst into tears and Tiff had asked, “What?”

I just shook my head. The grief of losing her family, being displaced, moving into a depressing shithole without light and brightness just did Jade in on some level. I'd seen it taking daily chunks out of her, getting worse week by week.

Jade spotted me and began walking across the front porch of the flat roofed dump. The porch had a swayback, like it'd never been straight and level. How these losers didn't get nailed as a Crap Placement for fostering was beyond me. Well, it was government-driven, right? I loved the government. Stand-up Dudes, them.

Jade had really grown up, she was nice and curvy, she'd lost that extra thin edge she'd had last year and was all hour glass gorgeous. The extra weight was in all the right places. Made her soft and curved just where a girl should be. But she was all-woman now. She wore short heels, very spiky in hot pink leather and the bag I'd given her last year was over her shoulder, her hair loose and straight like I liked it with ginormous, skinny silver hoops swinging as she walked. Sophie had been a bad influence on her and she wore a hot pink cheetah top with one shoulder exposed.

It totally made me want to kiss the cafe-au-lait skin that peeked through the gap in the material. I took her into my arms for a hug and looked over her shoulder and into the eyes of Howie.

Foster brother Dickhead Extraordinaire.

He smirked. There was no love lost, as Gramps would have said.

I knew where Howie should be. Right in the middle of Carson's group. Yeah, he'd fit right in, round peg in a round hole.

Jade tilted her head back, staring into my eyes. “What?” she breathed out and I caught a whiff of her minty breath, mixing with her vanilla body spray in a tantalizing mix.

I jerked my chin behind her.

“Howie?” she asked—sure, because our flesh was touching, taking the guesswork out of the whole universe.

I nodded anyway. “Yeah, that'd be him.”

Jade squeezed my forearm, our bare skin connecting.

I relaxed a little.

“He hasn't done anything.”

“Today,” I responded.

She ducked her head, giggling.

So wasn't funny.

“Yeah, true.”

“Let's go,” I said, wanting to get her out of sight of Howie.

“ʼKay,” she answered softly as I opened the door and held it for her. I slammed it shut and headed around to my side. I peeked in at Jade and she was pulsing someone, her dark hair a curtain on either side of her face, the pink metallic pulse was peeking out of her hands, the nail tips bright pink too.

I smiled, very girly. I like. I looked up as I opened my car door and Howie shot me the bird.

I gave him the salute right back. I was thinkinʼ sometime he and I were gonna go.

My hands unconsciously flexed into fists.

Uh-huh.

His ass was on the back burner at the moment though. I had bigger fish to fry.

I pulsed my engine on and we roared off toward school, leaving the neighborhood and its evil memories behind us.

For the moment.

I kissed Jade as she walked into Empath class. I wanted to add tongue but it wouldn't have been spontaneous, it would've been all for Tulle.

Not that it wouldn't have been enjoyable as hell.

As it was Tulle glared at us as I released Jade from my embrace. All pissed about the PDA. Well, she was one of the Consistent Adults. Yeah. There were some of those around.

“Miss LeClerc,” Tulle said dryly, shutting the door with the softest click.

In my face.

Huh.

I whirled around and almost ran into Jonesy. His face broke into a grin. “Hey Hart, how's it hanging?”

Ah... great. “Okay, what about you?” Jonesy went on about his female exploits and I think my eyes glazed over. “What Hart? Ya gay? You don't want to hear about The Chick Battalion?”

Not really. I opened my mouth to reply when Archer came up, hearing that last part and said, “Sexual orientation has zero to do with interest, Mark.”

“Can it, Archer, it was an expression, don't get your testies in a twist.”

Lewisʼ face actually clenched. That'd been my reaction. Sounded like a painful situation.

“God, you guys! Is it Monday or what?” Jonesy asked, sensing our mood.

“Maybe Caleb isn't enthusiastic about you regaling us with tales of your dalliances, Mark?” Archer stated slyly.

“You're killinʼ me with the verbiage, Archer,” Jonesy said, fake strangling his own neck.

Alex and Randi walked up. He'd taken to walking her to classes now. I guess she wasn't too put off with his obvious perv vibe.

“Hey,” she said by way of greeting.

We said hey back and then Tiff, Sophie and John joined the group. “Hey guys,” snap-crackle-pop with the gum. “Where's Jade?”

“Class,” I said.

“Already?” Tiff said around her wad of gum. I couldn't take my eyes off the neon green of her hoodie. It hurt my corneas.

“Yeah, Tulle's a damn battleax,” Jonesy said.

Just then, coincidence of all, Griswold came by, her PE whistle bouncing against her rotundness. “Language!” she barked.

Jonesy jumped a foot.

He threw a hand over his heart. “Man, almost pissed my pants, she scared the crap outta me!”

Excrement-much. I got the crooked mouth on the spot.

“She's got a way with that,” Sophie said, smiling.

On her tail was Carson and friends. As he walked past he nodded at the girls, thinking maybe they'd be soft to his attention or some deluded bullshit like that.

Nope.

“Keep walking, dickless,” Tiff muttered under her breath.

Carson stopped in his tracks and turned. He glared at Tiff, Diego walking up beside him.

“Effing fantastic,” Jonesy said in a low voice, giving Tiff a sideways glare.

She did have a way of starting crap. I sighed. At least I didn't have to watch Brett salivating over Jade. There was that.

Carson glared down at Tiff and she blew a big bubble, snapping it so loud it echoed in the emptying hallway. Well, it had been getting empty but there was just something about a fight.

It drew a crowd.

This was no different, kids began to congregate around the group and this was a singular time I thought Tiff could have not said anything. It was the first week of school for shit's sake!

“You're a slow learner, Tiff,” Carson stated.

“That's what they tell me,” she said, unfazed.

John slapped his forehead.

Carson looked at the rest of us, his eyes settling on Archer. Then he smiled.

“Ya know, I'll let this little bitch think whatever she wants. I know what I got,” he grabbed his crotch inelegantly to emphasize his point and Sophie said eewww in the background and his eyes slipped to hers.

“Nah,” Tiff began.

Don't say it, I thought dismally, knowing the handwriting was on the GD wall anyway.

“I think you're searching for it, myself,” Tiff finished, smiling.

Shit.

Carson's eyes snapped back to Tiff.

Diego came forward until he was towering over her. God love her she didn't move a muscle. “Ya know, you take chances with that mouth of yours. I could think of things you could do with your pie hole that have nothing to do with talking.”

He and Diego closed in around Tiff and us guys behind her.

“Try it and lose it, Diego,” Tiff said as a promise.

Tiff should have been a guy, I swear.

Diego grabbed the back of her head and I swear my heart stopped beating in my chest.

Was this clown gonna try something with Tiff in the middle of God and country?

He should've been paying attention because she jabbed him in the throat in a move so efficient and quick I barely tracked it.

“Holy shit!” Jonesy chortled. “That was righteous!”

The group of kids that had congregated parted like the Red Sea when the click of heels sounded in the hallway like machine gun fire.

Shit again—Chen.

Kids scattered like thrown birdseed.

Randi paled and Diego was clutching his throat, his breath hissing in great swooping gulps. He couldn't get enough air in his lungs.

Not that his brain needed a lot of oxygen.

Tiff hadn't broken a sweat, grinning from ear to ear.

Chen pushed kids aside like meat hanging on hooks. “What's going on here?”

Randi's normally dusky skin took on an undertone of ashen gray.

“Merranda?” Chen said, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. She was Chinese so that was really saying something. I could hear the ghost of Mom's voice berating the racial profiling.

Randi, usually a prolific talker, was stumbling along.

It wasn't every day that your mom, the acting principal, comes upon you and a known group of troublemakers in which you're center-stage. No indeedy.

She opened and closed her mouth several times and Tiff stepped into the rescue—Diego gasping like a fish in the background.

“What's wrong with Diego?” Chen asked suspiciously, her eyes trained on Diego.

“Asthma,” Tiff responded without missing a beat.

Chen's brows furrowed as she looked at Diego, Tiff winked at Randi and she took a shaky breath of relief.

“He doesn't have an inhaler? Does he need to visit the nurse?”

Diego shook his head. It would be miserable for a dude to expose his dressing down by a girl... to anybody.

Chen looked back at Tiff, who returned the intense glare with impunity, she didn't even blink.

Wow, that Tiff.

Chen looked at Diego. “Are you-can you breathe?”

He nodded briskly, his eyes on Tiff. He slowly took his hands away from his throat.

A glaring red mark stood there like a nasty comma.

Chen's eyes narrowed again and they flicked to Diego's. “What's that on your throat?”

He shrugged, his breathing starting to return to normal. I was thinking Tiff had delivered a nice jab. She probably couldn't get away with that again. They were on to her now, the element of surprise, a chick's best weapon, was gone.

CHAPTER THREE

Clyde & Bobbi

Clyde stood in front of Roberta “Bobbi” Gale, shielding her from the gang of men clenching solid hickory bats. He had not yet determined if he could do what he needed before one of the fools laid their hands on Roberta.

Bobbi had her hand buried at the back of Clyde, the scratchiness of his suit rubbing pleasantly at her palm as the men closed in.

It had seemed harmless ten months ago when she had decided that nothing was more important than exploring her connection with Clyde.

Her job.

Her position in the community.

Her safety.

All those things had been torn away when she'd hung on the chasm of choice.

When she dove into her decision, she had landed with bruising force.

Bobbi Gale had a notoriety now that she hadn't bargained for. She wasn't famous, she was infamous. This was the first case of a zombie not going to ground—being kept alive—a second life after the first. It was possible because she was AFTD. Her low-level Affinity for the Dead fueled Clyde, their mere proximity allowing him to live again.

With her.

No one could quantify the new precedence. So, prejudice against the walking dead and anyone that would think to have a relationship with a zombie was fodder for cruelty.

Like now.

Clyde couldn't get enough of the technology of the current era. On a daily basis Bobbi would show him something new and he took to it like a duck to water, each new discovery a simple joy.

Everywhere they went, people stared. It wasn't that Clyde looked dead, he didn't.

But he was.

It was everything about him was different, his manner, his speech, his clothing—all. And so many knew about the two of them, encounters such as these were not uncommon. But it'd been months. Gale had thought she was out of the fire of it but no.

The first man approached, the bat held in a meaty fist gone white at the knuckles with tension. “Come on corpse-boy, take your licks and we'll show your lady a good time,” he grabbed his crotch lewdly, “with real men. Men that are alive.”

Clyde looked warily at he who had spoken, then replied, “You will do nothing of the kind, vagrant,” Clyde said in his offhand manner. He tried to keep an eye on all five of the men, but it was difficult at best. At worst—impossible.

“Well then, we're gonna put a hurt on ya!” Beefy said.

Gale whispered behind Clyde. “Let me take point.”

“No, Roberta, I will take care of this scallywag and his cohorts and be done for the evening.”

Stubborn man, Bobbi thought with a small smile. Then, with her last sense of police directive still beating inside her head she warned the group, “He will hurt you. It'll be our word against yours...” she began and Beefy's friend whipped his greasy hair out of his eyes and replied, “I think you're done being a cop, lady. They don't want no corpse-humpers on the force, right boys?” He laughed derisively.

Bobbi felt Clyde tense as his fists curled in readiness. “You have let your intellect stand testimony before your words and been found wanting.”

“Huh?” Beefy asked, beating a rhythm with the stick against his open palm.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “He said you're a dumbass.”

“Roberta,” Clyde warned.

She giggled behind him. He hated foul language from a woman. “I'm sorry, he brings out the worst in me.”

“Noted, Dear Heart,” Clyde said as Beefy gave a roar to defend the size of his inconsequential brain and rushed Clyde.

At the same time as the other four moved in.

Beefy connected the hardwood with Clyde's open palm. The resounding smack was deafening in the alleyway behind the pulse theater.

Clyde grasped the smooth wood, swinging it as widest portion hit his palm and bashed the blunt end into Beefy's head.

He dropped where he stood.

Gale yelled, “Not too hard Clyde!” Clyde never remembered his strength.

Two of the men crashed into Clyde and the other two went for Bobbi. Not that it'd help them, she was trained for hand to hand combat and was proficient.

It got a little exciting when it was two big burly gents against a one hundred ten pound woman, skilled or not.

One got a handful of her hair and she fought not to scream like a girl as Clyde whaled on the two who had charged him.

She spiked a defensive jab into the throat of hair-puller and he staggered backward, his hands laced on his throat. Bobbi drove into him, pummeling his stomach with peppered jabs; quick, lethal and deliberate.

He fell on his ass, the air leaving his body. Bobbi turned, and was hit in the perfect spot on her jaw. She instantly felt herself begin to lose consciousness.

Bastard, she thought as darkness cloaked her.

Her last thought was that she hoped Clyde beat his ass.

Clyde bent the hand that had driven into his belly back to the wrist and heard a satisfying wet snap as the bone gave to the unnatural and acute pressure. He flung his arm out in an almost dismissive gesture at the other and clotheslined him. He went ass over tea kettle, as a gymnast would, on Clyde's immobile arm. He landed on his back with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.

Clyde had a random thought about the old game Red Rover. Red Rover, Red Rover... come on over! He smiled and knew his grin looked like a snarl on his face as he straightened in time to see one of the ruffians hit Roberta.

A thin veil of rage clouded his senses, his zombie nature demanding recompense. His eyes shifted to the ruffian's head and he thought briefly on the living tissue encased therein.

A delicacy.

He shook his brief musing away with a pang of regret and roared to Roberta's defense, springing with lithe grace he flew from a standstill into the one who had punched a woman. His unseemly demeanor would be his undoing.

Clyde rolled the brute over and the man screamed.

Clyde hissed, words were not needed, he thought. Almost tenderly he cranked the man's head back, the pulse in the hoodlum's throat jumping around underneath skin held taut from the hold.

Clyde smiled. He barred his teeth as he opened his mouth to kill the human that would cause harm to Roberta.

The woman he loved.

Rescue

I ran headlong toward the front of the theater, scenting trouble.

Scenting death.

Clyde was in trouble and I couldn't get a bead on Bobbi either. I was so in violation of about fifty-one different probation laws that had been slapped on me but it didn't matter, he was more than some zombie. He was Clyde and we were connected through death.

And now life.

Somehow, I knew he was in trouble.

I rounded the corner and saw teeth readying for a strike.

Shit. “Clyde!” I bellowed.

He hesitated, balanced between desire and servitude.

I put some meat behind my command, “Release him!”

Clyde dumped the head that he'd been holding and the skull cracked against the pavement. Huh, not real gentle about crap.

His gaze met mine and I shook my head. “You can't kill everyone!”

Clyde stood, wiping the dirt off his trousers. “It is not everyone, Master.”

“Caleb.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment.

A weary exhale shot out of me.

“What happened this time?” I asked, jamming my hands in the front pockets of my jeans.

He held up a finger as I heard some low groaning from behind us on the street. Where some dude that was all-muscle with a layer of fat lay writhing around on the pavement.

What a clusterfuck.

He strode to where Bobbi lay, a welt the size of a plum (about that color too) lay on her small jaw. He scooped her up with ease, pressing her against his muscular body.

Apparently, what you did in life followed you in death. Now that Clyde was alive again and fully restored (so to speak, hardy har har), he was built like the farmer he'd been. Tough work, day in and day out. No gym time, it was unheard of in that day. If someone had a physique full of muscle, it was hard earned from labor.

His had been hard earned for sure.

Clyde stood holding Bobbi, a still burden in his arms. “They were planning to cause harm to Roberta.”

I frowned, I could sorta see his point. If someone was going to hurt Jade, they'd pay.

Hell, they had, hadn't they?

I nodded. “Okay, let's get the hell outta here before the world ʼo cops roars in and hands us our asses.”

Clyde blinked.

I refined my phrasing, there was probably too much time between the eras for him to bridge the verbal gap.

“The cops will come and we'll get in trouble. Again.”

Clyde nodded. “I see. It would go badly for Roberta as well.”

Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Like her being on suspension with pay wasn't a fun gig already?

We took off, me on a dead run and Clyde jogging with a woman in his arms, not even breaking a sweat.

In my experience the dead didn't sweat.

A little smile rode my face and was gone, exhaustion taking up residence where worry had been.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ten months prior

We filed back into the courtroom, the recess over. After Clyde had answered the questions about life and death... his, that is; the courtroom had been overrun with noise, mayhem and general disorder.

Jowly Judge couldn't contain it so he called a recess. I felt like I was in the playground at recess and the teacher on duty had nailed a couple of bullies. If it hadn't been so serious it might've been fun. As it was, Mom was a wreck, Dad was holding her together, and Gramps was taking copious notes to paperwork all the asshats to death with all that the American Law had left to provide.

At least I was able to see the Js and Jade for a half hour. They'd been waiting outside the courtroom for just such an occurrence. I was sorta surprised to see them and asked Jonesy about it.

“Listen man, it's you, right?” Jonesy asked, then explained further when I frowned.

He jammed his large hands on his hips. “I told Terran and Jade that since you were in the mix, some wild crap would happen, chaos would ensue, and if we hung around long enough, they'd dump everyone out here to clean up the mess.”

Hmmm.

Jonesy shrugged.

John smirked while Jade smiled.

I opened my mouth then closed it again.

“You can't deny my logic, Hart... and,” he held up a finger, “you sprung Clyde on the jury and that dude's got snark in spades, my man.”

John said, “He's subtle, but yes. Anyone with an IQ over a hundred is going to get his brand of undermining sarcasm.”

“Well, that takes out a lot of people,” Jade said with a sly smile. I hooked an arm around her waist and she tucked in next to me.

John cocked a brow. “We rubbing off on you?”

She held her index finger and thumb almost together. “A little.” She grinned.

Jonesy did an exaggerated nod. “Good, Jade's trainable.”

She frowned.

He threw up his hands. “It's a compliment, don't get torqued about it!”

“Somehow, it never sounds like a compliment Jonesy,” Jade said in a level voice.

“Yeah, pal... work on it. You feel me?” I asked, some of my tension from the trial coming back to sink its fangs into me. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Alright—ya bunch of bitches are so sensitive, PMS-mucho!”

John barked out a laugh. “Yeah, we're so the offenders here.”

Our normal bullshitting session broke the tension I'd been feeling and we laughed.

I loved these guys.

The court dude came out and called me back in.

As I walked toward the huge doors, the armed guards moved in, flanking me. Like I was dangerous or something?

I jogged back and kissed Jade on her forehead, and gave a chin dip to the Js.

Breaking through the huge wood doors I came to stand at the little table I shared with my defense attorney.

Clyde was still seated at the witness stand.

Our eyes met and he gave me the second wink of the day.

I winked back.

Now

“Penny for your thoughts?” Mom asked and I jerked my head away from the window.

I'd been staring out into space thinking about the courtroom again. “Ah... nothing.”

Dad raised a brow. “You were really a million miles away. Are you still ruminating about the trial?”

Tough to hide crap from the Parental Unit. Slowly, I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Dreams?”

Nightmares, more like. “Yeah.” I met Dad's eyes and saw what was there. “No Dad, I don't need a lame ass shrink or something.”

Mom didn't correct language anymore when they wanted to have an Important Discussion.

I wasn't gonna have this one though. I stood, putting my breakfast plate in the sink.

“Caleb, it was a big trauma that you suffered. It doesn't matter that it has been almost a year, the dreams you're having”—

—“I know Dad, they're a manifestation. A coping mechanism. So what?” I turned, looking at the parents. “It's not like my grades are suffering, I'm keeping up on stuff around here, things are down with my girl—the Js. Everything's okay, you're worrying for nothing.” I gave them steady eyes. A doctor was just going to repeat the same crap I already knew. When you go through something as effed up as I did you need time.

Well, shit—thanks for the enlightenment.

Dad threw up his hands. “I'm just letting you know you have options, you don't have to shoulder everything on your own.”

“I know you're there for me, Dad.” I turned to Mom. “Stop worrying Mom, you're gonna get a brain tumor or something.”

She opened her mouth to correct my grammar but changed her mind, giving me a fierce hug instead.

I wrapped my arms around Mom. Once in awhile it was okay.

We stood like that for a second then I let her go. I had to swallow past a lump in my throat.

Mostly my parents were okay.

I walked out the door, slipping Onyx a food morsel as I went.

Wag-thunk-wag.

****

Lake Tapps

If Jonesy could shut his mouth for a minute he wouldn't have gotten the thing filled with water.

He sprayed the lake out of his mouth, screaming, “Hart!” He picked up the old wooden oar and with practiced ease whacked it with an expert slap that dipped and skimmed the lake's surface at the same time, the water arcing and hitting... Jade. Right in the face.

She squealed as I sprung to my feet and dove into the icy water smoothly. I did the sidestroke, I was well-trained in it and reached the canoe as Jonesy dove overboard. Effectively tipping Sophie into the lake.

The Weller duo poured into the water, swimming as they hauled the canoe behind them, there were only three and Jonesy's began to float away.

“Hey!” Gramps yelled, his cigarette clamped in his mouth. “Somebody better own that or you'll be cleaning my commodes with a toothbrush!”

John sighed, stripping his T-shirt off a body that had lean muscle where only skin and bone had been a year before. “I'll get it Mac,” John said.

“Always cleaning up Jonesy's messes, eh pal?” The plumes of smoke spiraled around him like he was on fire.

“Yeah,” John said dejectedly.

John ran down the cement steps that led directly into the lake and dove in. He swam with as sure of a stroke as mine, having been in the same swim class as soon as our diapers were off. He reached the faded orange canoe as Sophie came up for air, spluttering.

“Thanks Jonesy!” she yelled indignantly, her coiffed hair a wet helmet against her head. The mascara was now super-attractive raccoon eyes.

Jonesy thought that was effing hilarious and began to drown from laughing so hard. I was on him in a second and dunked him good.

Bry reached us. “Hart, you're not doing it right.”

I let the expert dunker have at it.

He dunked Jonesy about a hundred times and finally Gramps said. “Okay, knock that shit off. Grub's on!” he commanded, wearing his BBQ-ing apron, which read, Too Hot to Handle.

Uh-huh.

Jonesy punched Bry a good one in the arm, using his knuckles and Bry turned on him.

Jonesy flinched. “Hey man! You effing deserve it, ya putz!”

Jonesy's short nappy hair was already drying as us kids left the water. Jonesy, being the Slowest of All Learners, got over real close to where Randi and Alex were laying in the sun.

Dry.

He tipped his head back and began to bend forward at the waist and back, snapping his wet head over the two sun bathers as he did. Icy drops of lake water splattered over the two and Alex bounded to his feet.

“Jonesy!” he roared as Randi squealed, her naturally dark skin a deep bronze at the end of the summer, her face all pissed as hell.

He ran after Jonesy, who was faster-than-hades shouting things like asshat and clown.

Maybe gay gnome had also been thrown around.

Gramps jogged down the deck with one of those styrofoam noodle things the girls liked to use to float in the lake and swung it low into Jonesy's shins, effectively rolling Jonesy, who harmlessly sprawled out on the unnatural green perfection of Gramp's lawn. Gramps jammed his cigarette into his mouth and leveled the other end at Alex, eight inches and sixty pounds heavier, and snapped that sucker on his flank, with a spring and pull.

It was a little like being hit with a towel that was just wet enough to feel like your skin came away with the blow.

Alex howled.

Gramps grinned.

Nice.

“Stop the shenanigans and get your hyper asses at the picnic table like I asked the first time! I hate repeatinʼ myself,” Gramps muttered, strolling away with the five foot noodle thrown over his shoulder, the thing bobbing as he moved.

“Ya pain in the ass!” Alex said, a wide welt appearing on his side from where Gramps had nailed him.

Jonesy stood, wiping off blades of grass, sticking here and there to his damp posterior. “There ya go... talkinʼ about asses again.”

Archer rolled his eyes. “You know Mark, it seems you're awfully obsessed with asses yourself.”

Jonesy's eyebrows jacked down and he opened his mouth to speak.

John interjected. “Hey guys?”

Alex and Jonesy looked at him. “Can anyone say, ʻrepeat performanceʼ?”

Jonesy and Alex shot glares at each other then stalked off to the picnic table.

The Weller sibs were already mowing through the food likes champs. How Tiff stayed so skinny was beyond me. She ate like a dude. When we got over there, I asked.

She stuffed another bite of hotdog in her craw and said, her mouth full, “See... it's like this. There's five brothers right?” Chomp-slurp-wipe.

Cripes.

I nodded solemnly.

“If I want to get any food, I have to jockey for position!” she said, picking up a second hot dog while Sophie, Randy and Jade looked on in a sort of fascinated horror. She must be breaking some chick rule that I wasn't aware of. She looked around and shrugged. “Ya never know in my house when the next meal's cominʼ or how much there'll be.”

Made a sort of perverse sense, I guess. In my house Mom was always a little grossed out by my Food Consumption. It was less than Alex's though.

Gramps came up with a huge ass fork in one hand and a cookie sheet piled high with a buttload of dogs in the other. He surveyed the decimated food load on the picnic table and grunted, “Humph!”

He piled more food on the center plate and all us guys had our fourth dogs. The girls stared.

“What?” Jonesy asked.

Tiff responded for him. “The chicks don't eat like you swine.”

“I'm not a pig, Tiff!” Jonesy said, offended. Mustard and ketchup hung at the corners of his mouth and he had orange fingers from the Cheetos.

Everyone laughed.

He frowned.

Sophie dug in her mammoth purple zebra striped purse and extracted a compact mirror out of the thing. She opened it and with great showmanship, faced Jonesy with his irrefutable reflection.

He sorta paled then regrouped. “Shows I liked the meal!” he said in his own defense.

I was silently worried about my face too when Jade leaned in and whispered, “You're okay,” and patted my leg. Nice, busted by the Empath girlfriend.

A car pulled up and I recognized Mia's tin can.

I didn't even have to look at her car to know it was her, Bry swallowed nervously, running a hand through his hair which only made it messier.

Post-lake hairstyle, with a dash of sunblock.

Kinda funny.

She strolled over, a light tan emphasizing her naturally dark blond hair hair and hazel green eyes. She had a deep green tank on with skinny straps and really short chocolate-colored shorts.

Weller's mouth was literally hanging open and Tiff said in her calculated awkwardness, “Flies dipshit.”

“Huh?” he said, kinda dazed.

Jonesy, the twin of Tiff said, “Shut your mouth, moron—you're catching flies.”

Mia strolled to the red and white checkered tablecloth of the picnic table and pressed tanned thighs against it. “Hey guys. Am I too late?”

“No!” Bry jumped up so fast he hit his head on a low joist for the upper deck. He winced and grabbed the sore spot.

“Mia can kiss it and make it better, Weller,” Jonesy smirked.

Mia frowned. She turned her gaze to Jonesy and cocking a hip said, “You need a napkin, Jonesy.”

I was always shocked to see how red Jonesy's skin could get, as dark as it was.

Tiff smirked, she was all about everyone's discomfort. Of course, she was immune.

“Not on your life young lady!” Gramps said from behind her and she grinned. Mia was a senior this year and Bry had graduated but he still hadn't found a girl he liked better. But that damn Christi kept him from asking Mia out. They were different chicks. Once bitten, twice shy, Gramps said. Bry just didn't want to take the chance.

“What's your poison?” Gramps asked and her brow furrowed.

“What do ya want to drink?” I translated.

“Oh! Do you have diet?”

“No!” the other girls said in disgruntled unison.

She looked at them with a question but always polite she responded, “Whatever pop you have is terrific, thanks.”

Gramps put more pop on the picnic table and Mia grabbed a dog and a root beer.

“Okay,” Mia began, “I'm here. Tell me what all the big deal news is about.”

She looked at everyone's faces and I looked around for Gramps. “The adults aren't here yet.”

“I'm an adult,” Bry said.

“So's Carson, smart one,” Tiff said, clarifying that an age number didn't equal maturity.

“His name's like a swear word,” Jade said, shaking her head in distaste.

John put up his palm. “Okay guys, can it.” He put his palm out to Randi, continue.

She took a deep breath, the suntan oil on her skin gave it a slight sheen in the bright shade of the covered deck. Alex put a strong arm around her, his size overwhelming hers.

She began telling us what was going on, when she was done, there was a stunned silence.

“It was really accidental, actually,” she said, spreading her hands away from her body. “One minute, I was in realm, the next... I was somewhere else.”

Sophie shrugged, easing her embarrassment. “It's okay, you finally got to your acquisition point.”

“Weren't you listening Sophie?” Tiff asked with a trace of condescension.

Sophie narrowed her eyes on Tiff.

Uh-oh.

“No. It's not exactly an acquisition point. It's more like an acquisition world.” A tear escaped her eye and Alex glowered, Defense against Tears impossible, and she angrily swiped it. “My mom's pissed. It was fine when I was just Astral Projection. Now...” she shrugged.

Alex put her fallen hair behind her shoulder, staring momentarily at the smooth bareness of it. He swallowed.

I smirked at his obvious Distraction that was Randi.

“Anyway,” she went on. “Now that I can float around to different places...”

“What is the place?” John asked reasonably.

Yeah, that.

“I don't know but it's here... somehow. But not.”

“Please explain,” John said.

Jonesy shoved a bunch of neon orange Cheetos in his mouth and said, “Yeah, tell us about cool shit we can explore later.”

“How old are you Jones?” Sophie asked, irritated.

He smiled, his teeth an orange glaze. “Older than you sweet thing.”

“Yeah, by like, what... a week?” Tiff asked, her mouth in a sneer of superiority.

“Still am.”

“Okay, we're off track again,” John reminded.

“Right!” Jonesy said, stabbing an orange fingertip in the air, no napkin in sight. He sucked the orange gunk off his fingers and I got the crooked mouth.

John and Alex sighed, both turning their attention to Randi.

“So,” she went on, blithely ignoring the Cheeto Event. “When I didn't come back from my acquisition point in time, they sent in a level five.”

“Wow, those are the big damn guns!” Sophie's aqua eyes were wide.

Randi nodded, solemn. “Then they called in my mom and they stuck me with the juice.”

“Awful, huh?” Sophie pulled a face as if in pain.

Randi nodded. “Terrible, I puked and everything, my head felt like someone had taken a sledge to it.” She looked at all of us again. “When I came out and I tried to tell them what I'd seen, they couldn't match up with any recorded or known acquisitions.”

“Let me get this straight,” I began, clasping my hands in front of me, “you went somewhere no one's ever gone and you know it's another world—how?”

She gulped, nervous. “It's what I saw there that made me know,” she stated in a conspirator's whisper.

We unconsciously leaned forward to capture her words.

“I was in some dome thing.” She made some motions with her hands that made a vaguely arched shape. I instantly thought of McDonald's. I grabbed another hot dog and a fresh pop. I opened the tab with a loud snap and took a swig.

“And there was a huge door that was all metal, never seen anything like it. There was an old-fashioned faucet thingy and when I explored, there were people that looked”—

—“Looked how?” Mia asked.

“Different. Way different.” Randi said. “They were wearing clothes I'd never seen before, really old.”

I had a sudden inspiration. “Like Clyde?”

Randi scrunched up her face, making her nose pucker in an appealing way that Alex noticed, he smiled a little, a fugue of attraction had descended on him and he was in some kind of stupor.

Tiff noticed too, throwing a glare his way that he completely missed.

“Kinda. But Clyde looks newer somehow.”

“Okay, describe the wardrobe,” John said.

Randi did, in great detail.

John frowned, icy blue eyes bright. “Huh. Sounds like turn of the last century to me.”

“How would you know, Terran?” Bry asked, not unkindly.

John eyebrows rose, the brainiac faced off with the caveman. Nice. “I've taken advanced United States and World History. I also took a summer course on Medieval Customs and Diction.”

We stared, rendered speechless. John's smile was sly and he explained, “It's interesting how people lived before us. As a point of fact”—

—“Shut up, Terran, keep that creepy shit to yourself. It's isn't relevant, pal.” Jonesy stretched and yawned, a Halloween mouth of chocolate and orange opened and closed.

Disgusting.

The chicks leaned away.

“You never know, Mark... when a person may need to know something other than when the next UFC fight is, or pizza night at the Hart's or what the hottest ʻbabeʼ at KPH was wearing the day before yesterday...”

“Can it Archer, that's the important stuff you're listing, even with your smart ass mouth, don't dis the basics.”

Sophie made a low noise of disgust in the back of her throat and Jonesy turned to look at her.

She stared back with wide, innocent eyes.

“So Chen is having ten kinds of cows because her daughter is the first... what? World-hopper?” Tiff asked in her delicate way.

Randi nodded, unfazed. “They had to come up with a name and everything. And, as usual, a new ability has to be reported to the government.”

Effing wonderful, the Graysheets knowing anything other than what brand of toilet paper I wiped my ass with was totally not on the To Do List.

Randi saw our faces and nodded. “Don't worry Caleb, I'm sorta in your situation. My mom has a position in the biggest paranormal high school in the state. They're not going to take off and experiment on me.”

The guys let an uneasy silence roll out.

She studied our expressions, hers becoming more somber as the silence continued. “Are they?” she asked quietly.

“I'll kick their asses if they touch you,” Alex said, brushing a stray black hair behind her ear, lifted by the light breeze that had come up.

She smiled like a fool and said, “I know.”

Jonesy scoffed, “Listen, that's romantic and all that happy crap but it's not gonna cut it if they send out the dogs.”

“Hey?” Jade asked in Randi's direction.

She swiveled to look at Jade, her face in the crook of Alex's arm.

“What'd they name your ability?”

Randi hesitated for a few seconds before answering, “Dimensional.”

“No kidding?” John said, instantly stoked.

“What?” I turned to him.

“You know what this means?”

Obviously not. “Kinda,” I replied out loud.

“Parallel worlds,” John said excitedly, nearly rubbing his hands together in glee.

“See,” Jonesy swept his hand toward John, “Terran's on board.”

“For what?” I asked with growing suspicion.

“A field trip, Hart,” Jonesy said, looking at me like I was slightly retarded.

“We're not entirely sure what's there, Mark—what the ramifications are...”

“Ram-i-fi-cations!” Jonesy said, guffawing.

“Ram!” Alex joined in.

They roared together.

Archer frowned, and Mia said casually, cocking an eyebrow,“Still pervy.”

Alex stopped laughing and looked at Randi, who had her arms folded, glaring at him. “Are we, nearly all of us, seventeen? Juniors-in-high-school?”

“I'm a senior,” Mia said, raising her hand.

“I've graduated,” Bry said.

Jonesy had quieted down to a chuckle but looked at Weller. “Admit it, Weller, it was kinda funny.”

Bry looked at Mia and got the crooked mouth.

Perfect.

“Ugh!” Sophie said and all the guys cracked up as Gramps came walking up.

“What's so funny, kids?”

“Ramifications!” I yelled into the summer air and all the guys lost it, even Terran and Archer. We grabbed our aching ribs and Jonesy fell off the bench while Gramps looked on, perplexed.

Finally he smiled, looking at the nonplussed girls, “What's with the guys?”

Mia summed it up perfectly, “They're apes, Mac.”

“Oink-oink,” Jade added, looking at me with tears streaming out of my eyes.

“Turnips,” Sophie said, picking the shittiest vegetable on the planet, making us guys wail louder.

“Nah... I vote for pigs,” Tiff said in a bored voice, looking at us like ants scurrying on a hill.

Gramps gave the girls a considering look, stabbing me with the end of his broom like a one hundred ninety pound dust mote and I barked out another laugh. His eyes finally settled on Tiff.

“Looks like you girls have a small problem with an animal fetish,” Gramps said, coming swiftly to our side, a grin riding his face to bursting.

Yeah, that.

I wiped my eyes, just another day at Grampsʼ.

CHAPTER FIVE

I sat on Gale's easy chair with my hands dangling awkwardly between my knees.

Nothing was easy right now. I watched the couple across from me and saw what was on Clyde's face.

Love and devotion.

Him digginʼ on Gale shouldn't have worked for me but it did. It made sense, she was AFTD, so was I. As long as a person didn't dwell on the specifics of the whole thing, it'd roll just fine.

But, there was the small detail of them dating and everything that meant.

Clyde sat back casually, his suit unbuttoned, his hand clasped loosely in Gale's, his fingers brushing against her knuckles casually.

Intimately.

I swallowed. Then took the plunge, “Here's the thing.”

They gave me their full attention. “I need you guys to be on the down low until my probation's up.”

Bobbi sighed. “I'm sorry Caleb. I'm on thin ice myself. I don't know if I'll be reinstated, and with the way things are between me and Raul...” she trailed off.

Clyde stiffened at the mention of Garcia's name, squeezing her hand and she winced.

“I apologize,” Clyde said, pressing his lips to her temple and she turned into his gesture like a cat searching for cream.

Wow.

His gaze locked with mine. “I am learning to control my strength—understand it.”

Right. “Anyway, if you guys wouldn't like incite riots and stuff, that'd really help me out.”

Bobbi shrugged a little helplessly, when I knew full well she was not helpless and responded, “We've got to be able to have a life. Move forward.”

Clyde said, “Roberta knows my intentions toward her are honorable.”

I met his eyes, the deep hazel-green impenetrable. “I know Clyde. But, others don't understand.”

Clyde's lips tweaked. “I have gathered that.”

“What can we do?” Gale asked, giving me steady eyes.

Shit, I was only almost seventeen, what did I know? I plowed forward anyway. “Ah, I don't think you can legally... ah get married or anything. I mean, technically, Clyde's dead. There's like proof and everything.” I cocked an eyebrow.

Clyde nodded while Bobbi lifted her pulse-reader and thumbed it.

She handed it over to me and I looked where she'd marked it.

It had Clyde's birth and death certificates linked. The luminescent green characters underscored what I'd just said. In glaring detail.

I looked up from the reader and met her eyes.

Gale, such a badass cop just a few months ago had been brought low by her own emotions.

Mainly love.

Her eyes filled with tears and she whispered, “I love him, Caleb.”

Clyde looked at her with such tenderness I was embarrassed to observe them together. But I was somehow responsible for it all, I had to help.

“I know,” I said simply, because it was true. They seemed so right together.

I stood and they did as well. “I can't help if you keep acting like you guys are normal.”

“We are!” Bobbi protested.

Clyde's eyes narrowed at my words.

I put my palms up in supplication. “Ya are to me, but I'm AFTD, death is normal for me—in all its guises.”

Clyde's eyebrows rose. “Don't say it,” I said to Clyde but Bobbi laughed. “Sounds like somebody is getting philosophical.” She smiled.

I frowned.

Clyde reached a hand out, our eyeballs level to each other, and squeezed my shoulder, a flash of death energy surged and he smiled, the connection flexing between us. “You are becoming the man you were meant to be. I am glad to be here to see it... Caleb,” Clyde said somewhat awkwardly.

I nodded, it was great to be done with the Master moniker.

“Thanks.” I met both their eyes, shifting my gaze equally between the two. “Just cool it until my probation is over. Don't run around and shove it in their faces. Besides, my parents will be okay with you coming over. And Gramps.”

Especially Gramps. He was all over putting it to people that didn't like those that were different. I think Gale and Clyde qualified.

Zombie couple. Geez.

Gale hugged me and Clyde gave a nod, sliding his palm into the front pocket of slacks that hung from a body that was twenty-nine but eyes that were ancient, the knowledge of then and now colliding in a harmony only he could hear, feel.

I left. Their assurance of inconspicuous behavior tied with my promise of assistance.

When I could give it.

I was in the eye of the storm, waiting to get out and be free, free of appraisal.

Free of scrutiny.

Just free.

Jade and I walked hand in hand down the hall, the wall of my friends behind me, some hooked up in pairs, the others dangling behind us. The noise of the cafeteria greeted us as we got in line and I slapped a couple of trays on the stainless steel rails that rode in front of the disgusting offerings in front of us.

Jade started to assemble The Salad as I loaded my tray with the requisite pizza, sherbet, two milks, and I skipped the soggy fries. They never got those right.

Sorta like my zombie mouths.

I smiled.

Jonesy saw it. “Share it, Hart.”

“Nah... we're getting ready to plow through the grub, I'll let my internal musings ride for now.”

Jonesy scowled. “You're not gettinʼ all Archer on us, are ya?”

Lewis frowned. “And what if he were, Mark? Is there something wrong with expressing oneself in a manner which is unique as compared to your peer group?” Archer smiled, his gray eyes lighting up in his face, the perfectly sculpted ashen blond eyebrows hiked in question.

“Argh!” Jonesy groaned, clutching his chest. “You're effing killing me!”

Archer smiled wider when the lunch lady said, her spatula raised like a weapon. “Watch your language, Mark Jones!” She waggled the spatula toward him, the spaghetti sauce sticking like glue.

Archer spread his hands wide. “See, I'm not the only person on earth that calls you Mark.”

Instead of answering, Jonesy threw his tray on the metal rails, lurching it along, loading it with every kind of bread he could find that didn't have color, muttering words that sounded a lot like clown and ass.

I grinned as the group trudged through the line.

We walked over to the long, brown table with the fake plastic on top that some bonehead made to look like wood.

John put his tray down and took a chance, sitting next to Tiff, her glaring hoodie, an intense neon purple, blinding the group.

“So, when are we checking out the dome world?” she asked casually.

John spit out a little milk.

“What?” she asked innocently, slurping her milk through the straw, not a stick of gum in sight. Even Tiff had to eat sometime.

“Haven't you learned anything?” Sophie asked. “I mean, Graysheet-much,” she said in a whisper.

Tiff glared at her. “I could be talking about anything, Sophie,” she said like duh.

Jade put up a hand, the nail tips little spots of shimmering pink on the ends of her elegantly small fingertips. “Let's not fight about it. I'm up for the adventure if we have some safeties in place.”

I parked my chin in my palm, my elbow braced against the side of my lunch tray. I couldn't wait to hear what Jade thought would be safe. Girls thought of so much safety shit that the whole thing wasn't fun in the end.

Jade arched a perfect black eyebrow at me. “What? You don't think we need some contingency here?”

“Sure,” I drawled, distracted by her pinkness, then continued, “but it's not much of an adventure if there's so much safety we can't appreciate the random aspects.”

Tiff snorted. “He's got a point!”

Jonesy nodded. “Uh-huh, that's what I'm talking about.”

Jade sighed.

I put a hand on her swinging leg underneath the lunch table, she gasped a little at the contact. Even through her clothes now, she could feel me, the timbre of my emotional signature.

A fine pink washed her cheeks with color, the others checking out her reaction.

“Now that's interesting,” Alex said, his perv-radar coming on line just as Randi walked up.

“Hey,” she said and Alex swung his attention to her, smiling. She studied him for a second then looked at Jade and I.

“What?” she asked.

Alex said, “Come ʼere!” He grabbed her and Randi squealed as he plopped her down on his lap.

She thwacked him with her pulse reader, it bounced off harmlessly. “You're going to have to do more than that... minx!”

Archer smiled through his sparkling water (I was pretty sure it set him back twenty bucks a bottle) and said, “Nice vocab...”

“Yeah, muscle head, you're just impressing the hell out of me,” Jonesy said, his lunch devoured, mood sour.

“What's your problem, Jonesy?” Sophie asked, then she brightened, an expression like an epiphany crossed her face and she snapped her fingers. “I got it! There hasn't been a natural,” she looked at me for a pensive moment, “or unnatural event in what, a couple of weeks?”

I frowned. Unnatural? Huh.

Jonesy's frown morphed into a scowl.

Terran chuckled. “She has you there, Jones. We all know how grumpy you get when you don't have Sufficient Chaos.”

“Yeah! And we have a perfect scenario for ourselves and you can't think of a plan to get on it?” he asked.

Mia walked up with her tray full of salad.

Disgusting.

She plopped down. “I think we want the adventure, Jonesy. We just don't want the maybe-we'll-die potential.”

All eyes turned to me.

“Okay,” I put up my hands. “The best I can do is hope for the dead to be around. But right now, I don't want anything to go wrong.”

“Probation,” John voiced flatly.

“Yeah, they'll throw your ass in the slammer and chuck out the pulse pad, pal.”

“So sensitive, Jones,” Tiff guffawed.

Jonesy sucked in his exhale like a vacuum.

Jade frowned at him.

“It's the truth. I'm not sugar coatinʼ the turd, princess. If he blows it, raises more dead, uses the dead,” Jonesy looked at me, and I shrugged my agreement, “it's,” he made the guillotine gesture with his hands, my imagined head rolling, “no more Caleb.”

“Much easier for the Graysheets as well,” John added helpfully.

To get at me.

The group got silent.

Well, my group.

None of us had seen the group that had heard that last, important part. Later, I would know they'd heard more than I'd known.

A big, sneakered foot made a landing on the opposite side of Jade, a quarter meter of extra bench seating at the end of the cafeteria table, his foot balanced on it.

She gave a little squeal of surprise and my hand unconsciously clenched her thigh in response even as I rose.

The foot belonged to Howie, and behind him stood Brett.

That was enough to get my full attention. The Js stood as well.

The noise of the cafeteria dropped by a whole level. The kids were like sharks, scenting the possible violence like blood in the ocean.

Jade gave wide green eyes to Howie. He leaned forward until he was almost in her face and I felt my hands ball into fists, my heart racing. I could hear the Reactive Management instructor blaring inside my head: Inner calm.

Uh-huh.

Howie's glacial eyes, so light a blue they were almost white, flicked to mine. He gave a satisfied smile.

The shithead knew I was on a short leash.

“Mom says you ride home with me from now on.”

“Why?” Jade asked in a low whisper, her discomfort hitting me like a breeze before the storm.

“Ah... no. I've got this. She doesn't need a ride from you, Frazier,” I said logically, still maintaining control.

He straightened. “You're not a part of this, Hart. We have control of Jade until she's of age.” He gazed down on her, hiding nothing in his expression. I had never been so glad as I was now for that mondo pulse-lock I'd given her.

I didn't like what I saw in those eyes of his.

“Don't we?” Howie's voice was soft menace, and he reached out as if to stroke a finger along her jawline.

Jade flinched away from the contact, made worse by what she was. Empath.

I didn't have to be an Empath to know she didn't want him touching her.

I was moving before I realized and then Brett was there, his hand latched on to Howie's wrist like a manacle.

“Knock your shit off, Howie. You're scaring her,” Brett said, his almost-black eyes held threat. Violence.

I knew he was good for it too. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree in the Mason household.

“Why don't you fuck right off, Mason?” Howie queried casually.

Brett was standing there one minute and in the next, his fist was buried in Howie's mouth.

Not bad for a mundane.

“Stop him!” Jade screamed.

“Yeah... stop him,” Jonesy said in a droll voice, not moving a muscle.

All us guys stood there and let Brett whale on Howie. But then the tide shifted and Diego and Carson came. Jade stood, looking like she'd interfere with Brett's excellent attitude adjustment delivery, and I scooped her in against my body. “No,” I whispered against her ear as I wrapped my arms around her.

Jade had zero self-preservation instinct. It kinda terrified me.

“Hey! Brett, dipshit... you're gonna get a vacation!” Carson started to pull Brett off and Howie took a cheap shot at his jaw, glancing him pretty good.

Brett's head snapped back and Howie jumped to his feet, his fists curled into hammers of punishment.

“Why do you give a rat's ass about her?” he asked, spitting a loogie filled with blood on the quartz floor, as teachers came into the cafeteria, trying to move kids aside, breaching the circle of teens that had gathered around us.

Brett slid his jaw from side to side, glaring at Howie. “I don't know, but I can feel her fear... right here.” Brett put his fist above his heart. “And I'm not gonna have your dumb ass terrorizing her. She's had enough of that bullshit.”

Howie glared at Brett for a second longer then turned his attention to Jade. “They won't always be around, your boy heroes.” His icy eyes turned to mine. “Your dead shit's on hold or you're in the slammer, Hart.” He shifted his gaze to Brett. “And I know what happens in your house. You got those hands of yours full. You can't be her savior full time.” He nodded, a smug smile overtaking his face, making it ugly. “Yeah, I know about the ʻdeath connectionʼ,” his smirk becoming a grin. “Hell, I bet you guys are tag-teaming her, she's a nice piece of tail, I'll admit.” Howie winked. “I'm gonna try for her myself.”

It was Alex that dragged me off of him. I lost time. When those shitty words exploded inside my eardrums something shifted inside my body and I was lost to it.

My rage. Inner calm be damned.

When my vision cleared from a crimson wash of pulsing anger to something resembling normal, the Js were sweating, their chests heaving, Alex's arms were around mine, bolting them to my sides.

My eyes swept my surroundings, and I found Howie, covering his nose with both hands, blood pouring out, red marks on mostly all the skin I could see.

A promise stood in those frozen eyes.

Retribution.

Chen sighed, her spiked black heel swinging back and forth, back and forth. “I would love to give you some leeway, Mr. Hart. But you have proven, without a shadow of doubt, that your reaction to confrontational situations is one of two things.” She held up a perfectly manicured hand and ticked off the points, “One,” she touched her left pointer finger to the right index finger, “violence. Your personal favorite, I believe.” Her eyebrows jacked down in a straight, black line of frustration over her eyes, so deep a brown they were almost black. “Two, you call for backup and it is the type that we cannot abide here in Kent Paranormal High. That I will not abide.”

“I understand, Miss Chen...” I began.

“Ms.”

Whatever. “Ms. Chen,” I said through gritted teeth. “Did ya hear what he said about Jade?” Anger pumped through the tone of my voice. Her eyes flicked to mine and she shifted her weight nervously.

Finally, after a few heartbeats of silence she answered, “Yes. I heard your rendition of it.”

I opened my mouth to protest but she held up her hand, her gaze locking with mine. “Howard Frazier has an exemplary record here at KPH.”

The implication was that I did not. Yeah... gotcha. I was really hating Randi's mom right about now. Another AP guy. Wonderful. I didn't like that ability much. Just call me anxious on that one. No small memory loss on the old judo instructor that tried to rape and kill Jade—Sophie too. Yeah, APs, not my fave.

I know it was probably not a rational fear. But I wasn't really known for being rational. Then there were those little flashes of Precog/Intuitive I would have from time to time. I was always sorry when I didn't trust those.

I had started listening all the time now.

My alarm bells were going off and like Pavlov's dogs, I was salivating at the potential threat that was closing in around the group.

Howie Frazier.

I should have been feeling pretty good, Jade's birthday was less than a month away, on the cusp of her freedom from the grip of the Frazier Fam.

I wasn't. I was feeling a bubble of impeding doom. Hanging around, ready to burst, like one of Tiff's crazy-ass gum bombs; dying to pop, the mess left in our faces.

“If you don't believe me, ask Randi. She'll tell ya what he said, how he started things.” I stood, my palms spread away from my body.

She also stood. “Merranda is compromised now. You know that, Mr. Hart—Caleb. She wouldn't go against someone in her group, she'd cover for them.” She gave an exhale in a push of harsh breath. “She is with that Body boy...”

“Alex,” I supplied, kinda pissed. We stood there semi-glaring at each other for a frozen moment then she blew me away. But, I should've known it was coming.

She nodded. “You're facing expulsion, Caleb.”

I could feel the heat in my body again. Every dead thing within a three mile radius hiccuped in response to my anger, their energy swelling over the surface of where they lay and I reflexively sucked in a calming breath, using the techniques taught to me in that lame class. They mostly worked.

Sort of.

Chen gave me a sharp look. “Are you okay? Do you need...?”

I shook my head. Nah, she didn't need to Null-out all over my ass.

“I'm okay.”

She gave a curt nod. “Good.” Her eyes met mine again. “You're excused.”

“How long?” I asked.

“That depends on you, Mr. Hart.”

I gave a frustrated exhale. “Jade is unprotected without me, Miss Chen.”

She stared at me.

I stared back.

Finally, she responded, “Why don't you let us handle security for Miss LeClerc.”

Yeah, and that worked so effing swell in the past. “Fine,” I seethed. Then I pointed a finger at her.

She retreated a step and I let my hand drop. God, what was wrong with her? I wasn't some chick beater. Then I thought of what could happen to Jade with that stupid Howie up her ass. “But if something happens to Jade on your watch, it's on you.”

“I think I can handle one AP teenager, Mr. Hart.” Yeah, she was all big-time Null in her skirt and shit. But Howie wasn't a Good Guy. A Fair Player. He was plenty fine at taking.

I only had one option. And it sucked like hell, but it was my last resort.

I walked out of the principal's office, the day about done. I'd wait outside for the one person that cared about Jade's welfare as much as me.

Brett.

His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed to their standard wariness when he saw me standing by his car.

“Hart,” he said in a cautious voice, a red gash on his chin from Howie's shot.

“Mason,” I responded identically.

Carson and Diego came up, the three of them with similar expressions, arms folded across their chests.

I was suddenly struck by how much they looked like men.

We weren't young anymore, but we weren't old. Instead, adulthood waited with open jaws, nipping at our soft underbellies with a progression that couldn't be halted, even if we'd hoped for it.

Longed for it.

I felt rather than saw Jade move behind me. I didn't even turn around. “Jade, get in my car.”

“Caleb.”

I turned and gripping her with my hands, so large now on her shoulders. I said in the most earnest voice I'd ever used, “Please baby, get in there and lock the doors.”

Her eyes searched mine, standing water swimming in them. “Don't fight them, Caleb... please,” she swiped at a tear. I shook my head. “Nah, we're just gonna talk, ʼkay?”

Jade nodded, looking like she didn't believe me but went off in the direction of my car.

My attention swiveled back to the three that stood in front of me. So clearly my enemies. Except one. I didn't know what Brett was anymore. But he wasn't quite fittinʼ in that tidy category anymore. Placement unknown.

But he was still hanging with the ass clowns. Mixed loyalties at best.

I sighed. “Yeah, I gotta talk to you.” I looked at Diego and Carson, Brody sidling up behind them.

“Alone,” my eyes flicked to the others.

“Did ya get a vacation, Hart?” Carson asked with a laugh.

I didn't even try to be coy. I was tired. “Yeah.”

“No shit, nice!” Diego said. “How long?”

Brett glared at him, “Hey listen, go jack off somewhere for a sec, Hart's got somethinʼ on his mind, huh?”

Diego scowled. “Fine, butt-hump him for all I care. He's a dick hole, you know that.”

“Just go,” Brett said.

Carson looked at him. “Don't get your loyalties screwed, Mason. Remember who calls the shots.”

Brett and Carson stared at each other for a swollen moment then Carson jerked his chin to a spot not far off, a strangled grouping of trees outcropping from an island of cement. The shade cast had reaching fingers as they walked underneath its broken canopy of light.

Brett waited until they were out of ear shot.

Now that it was time to ask I felt like an idiot. I forged ahead. For Jade. “Listen, that goddamned tool”—

—“Frazier,” Brett clipped out.

I nodded. “I got a vacation, maybe a week, I'm guessing.” My eyes met his, and he nodded like, go on. “Anyways, she only has about three weeks until she's done there, and he's gunning for her...” I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, wanting to tear it out.

Brett was quiet. Hell, he was going to make me spell it out. I was betting on some level, he was enjoying the hell out it all.

Our gazes locked. “I think he's gonna try for Jade. I need you to... watch over her.”

He folded his muscular arms over his chest, the ghost of a smile taking up residence on his face. “You want me to protect Jade while you're not in school? Is that it, Hart?”

I nodded miserably.

He cocked his head to the side. “Why me?”

“You know why, Mason,” I said, pissed.

“Cause I've got a piece of her and she's got one of me?” He spread his hands out.

Lotta hate for the moment. “Yeah,” I ground out.

“Happy to,” he said and grinned.

“I mean it. It's not an effing joke. Don't let your stupid friends jack her around.”

Brett strode to me, meeting me where I stood, our chests so close we could have kissed. He was a couple of inches shorter but built to last. I could tell he lifted, he had that look to him.

I bet his dear old pop wasn't beating up on him anymore. He'd find out first hand when his prodigy wiped the floor with his face.

“Let me handle them. I know what to do.”

We took the measure of each other.

He was the one that would feel when Jade was in danger, scared or... whatever. It was the best choice and the worst.

“Ya know I'd never let anyone hurt Jade, right? You gotta know that.” Brett said, desperate for me to know he would protect her. He'd be my watchdog on a chain barking at all comers.

I looked at him, my heartbeat pulsing thick and steady at my temple. “That's not what I'm worried about.”

I swung around on my heel and walked away.

I didn't look back.

CHAPTER SIX

Jade gave me luminous green eyes when I slid behind the wheel of the Camaro.

Frightened.

I'd have given anything in that moment to reassure her, to stop what our lives always seem to come back to: violence and protection.

An endless cycle. Her dad was gone but here was someone ready to stand in line, take his place. The biggest question was: why was I always getting nailed for defense when the offensive team didn't get called on the play?

That's what I wanted to know. Didn't seem fair.

My exhale was weary and I ran a hand through hair that was already sticking in all kinds of directions. I pounded my hand on the steering wheel and stared at the rubber cover that snaked around the column of it, protecting the wheel itself. I stared at the little black holes that made up the vinyl material, stewing over the pot of bullshit that was cooking right now.

No easy way out.

A small hand rested on my forearm and I swung my gaze to meet Jade's.

Tears were falling down her face. She knew what I felt, couldn't hide it. “You can't be this responsible for me, Caleb!” she cried. “It's not normal, you know that.”

I gripped the steering wheel harder, the creaking of it telling me it was stressed, not caring.

I turned to Jade and pulled her across the seat until she was a few inches away from my body, cradling her head in my hands. I leaned down and kissed her tear-stained face, rubbing my nose along the smoothly fragrant skin that lay underneath. I pressed my forehead against hers. “I am and ya know it.”

“It's not like we're married or something, Caleb,” she whispered, her forehead still pressed to mine.

I leaned back and opened my eyes, staring into hers. Taking one of her small hands in mine, I laid it over my heart, the warmth of it radiating the space that it occupied. “Do you feel me?”

She stared back, nodding slightly.

“Say it, Jade. I need to hear it.”

She swallowed.

“I can't lie to ya... how do I feel about you Jade? It's not just responsibility.”

My eyes searched hers and I repeated the question.

“Like we're already married,” she said in a small surprised voice.

I nodded.

“I'm not seventeen, we don't have a pulse matrimonial saying we are... hell, we haven't even had sex yet!” I said winking to soften the words and she blushed, remembering what we had done. Sex was a technicality at this point. “But that doesn't mean I'm not committed to you.”

Fresh tears fell. “I know. But it's a lot, Caleb.”

Jade had never had real love. Love without linked violence, love without conditions.

Just love.

Now that she had it, it scared her. And I wasn't a half way kind of guy. I was All. The. Way. And I wasn't without violence. In fact, and Jade realized it, I had my own brand.

Maybe it was scarier than most.

The Parental Unit shipped my ass to Gramps. Kinda felt like they thought he'd straighten my shit out.

Think again.

Mom should have known how much Gramps and I were alike. The only down side was I was far away from Kent.

Relatively far.

My range of sensing the dead had grown. I figured I could have dead to Jade in five minutes flat.

But we all know what would happen if they came. The long arm of the law would be doing the anal probe before you could say cadaver-manipulation.

I was looking up at the guts of the undercarriage of my car and heard Gramps say something, I rolled out on the creeper, my legs scooting along the cement until daylight splashed into my face.

“What?” I asked, squinting while my hand shaded my eyes.

“What size socket do ya need?” Gramps asked, smoke twirling up like devil's horns on either side of his face.

“Oh... yeah, half inch.”

“Ya on the drain plug?”

I nodded as he slapped it into my palm. I got busy as he crouched down beside the flank of the Camaro.

I was in the middle of draining the pan when he spoke again.

“So... Caleb...” Gramps began.

I stopped twirling the wrench, the sound of his voice caused my gut to clench. I rolled out again and sat up.

Jeffrey Parker stood in the driveway.

Gramps and I walked around to the front of the car.

I held the wrench loosely in my hand.

For now.

What in the blue hell was this?

And off in the distance, I felt the death jerk in response to my stress, my anxiety waking them from their slumber like an alarm clock.

They were ready.

So was I.

“Well this is like goddamned Welcome Home Day!” Gramps said loudly.

Parker actually smiled, his eyes finding mine and I knew he felt the dead so close to us. They were practically underfoot. Hardy har-har.

I looked at his assembled group and saw that Logan Tracker was amongst the guys.

Not a suit in sight.

Plenty of zombies though.

Including the one that was mine, the warrior from two years ago. His dead stare tracked me like a lost lover. Even for me it was kinda creepy.

I stepped forward and Gramps put a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked at him.

“Careful, son, this fella's a live wire.”

Live wire. Check.

My eyes turned to Parker, his were a true hazel green. With all that black he was wearing they stood out like dull marbles in his alert face.

“What do you want, Parker?” His eyes went to the wrench, then back to my face.

“I need your help.”

“Oh that's rich!” Gramps said slapping his polyester-clad knee.

Parker frowned, giving Gramps a look.

“Listen, we're all just a little skeptical of your motivations, you being all tight with the Graysheets,” I said with the logic of the last two years backing me up.

He sighed. “You're right. But ask yourself this... did I ever really hurt you?”

My mind tumbled over the memories of the cemetery, shuffling them like a deck of cards. Sophie almost getting taken, the mess with Smith, then, finally... the judo instructor turned raping and murdering maniac. But not by Parker's order. Even by my tally he'd been interfering, but not attacking. Lately.

“Not really, I guess.”

Gramps looked at me like I'd gone crazy in seconds and I held up my palm. “But,” I looked at Parker's face, “you've interfered in everything I've ever done.”

“I protected you.” Parker clarified.

I scoffed, giving a snort. “From what, yourself?”

Logan answered for him. “He only worked with the backing of the... Graysheets for the initial acquisition. When he found out everything that was going on, what their real motivation was...” he spread his hands out, his dark coloring emphasized with the all-black ensemble.

These guys were so matchy.

“We're all just a big experiment for them. To further their goal.”

“Which is?” Gramps asked, the zombies with Parker swinging their gaze to his. Gramps didn't even twitch.

Tough-as-nails.

“Control,” Parker said.

I shrugged, that was obvious and it didn't really clear things up.

Parker stepped forward and Gramps said, “Whoa pony, hold your horses, I liked ya right where you were.”

Parker gave a ghost of a smile then stopped.

“We've been discussing these matters with a five-point Precognitive.” He gave me his level gaze again and when I nodded my understanding of what that would mean he finished with, “She identified you as the catalyst.”

“For what?” I asked, thinking: Get. To. The. Damn. Point already.

“The end of the Graysheets.” When I raised my eyebrows he nodded quickly. “What I thought was a bid to get at another AFTD, a powerful C-M, was actually them having the intel to know that you'd be a problem. Getting you to be on their roster as another five-point and having you under their thumb to derail you from doing the things you were supposed to do, well... that was a bonus.”

Gramps scrubbed his face and lifted a finger, waggling it.

A point was coming, I could feel it in my bones.

“Question! How is my almost seventeen-year old grandson involved in anything here?” He threw his palm out at the zombies. “And,” he gave Parker serious eyes, “if you lay a finger on him, I'll take your eyeballs out with a spoon.”

Parker's small smile broke into a grin. “You might at that, Mr. O'Brien. You might at that. But, that's not my objective here.”

“What is?” I asked, suspicion wasn't a strong enough word for what I felt.

“We want to bring things back to rights. I've never felt more sure than I do at this moment.”

We studied each other.

“You've helped greatly by getting yourself caught up in enough trouble that the Graysheets, as you refer to them, can't make a move for you right now. But,” he jabbed a finger in my direction, “they will if provoked. So, what I propose for you to do will have to be done with the utmost caution.”

“The Precog says,” Logan started.

“What's that again?” Gramps asked, stroking his bristly chin.

Parker trained his intense eyes on Gramps and his zombies shifted their weight, the one that I'd raised on the power of a human's energy and made into something else—didn't. He stood motionless, the very air around him still.

“She's a five-point.”

Gramps shrugged and an expression of frustration came over his face but I explained, “Pretty much, she's a crystal ball thrower.”

“Huh?” Gramps asked, more confused, not less.

I tried again, “Wherever the ball lands is where stuff's gonna go down.”

Tracker spoke again, “She's never been wrong yet.”

“Yeah? What's the broad saying?” Gramps asked, skeptical as hell.

Totally normal state of affairs.

Parker snorted, “That Caleb will stop the inoculations. He'll go to the source, put a stop to the splicing. Run the travel, the interference.”

“What?!” I leaned forward. “What source? Tell me what the hell is going on!” I yelled.

My zombie flinched and I cast a look his way. “It's okay,” I said.

He relaxed.

Surreal. The story of my life.

“You're going to have to trust me, Caleb. If I tell you too much, it will alter what you're supposed to accomplish. You are so much more than just AFTD,” his eyes bored into mine, “That is not the sum of what you are, who you were meant to be. She gave me what I needed to tell you, no more, no less.”

I threw my hands up. “That's not enough to go on. Say I wanted to do this. Save the paranormals.”

“It's not saving them, it's saving the others,” Logan said.

I paused.

Gramps stopped breathing.

I frowned. “The mundanes?”

Parker nodded. “And so much more. Everything hangs in the balance of your choices.”

Tracker grinned. “No pressure, right?”

I grunted. “What if I don't want the job? I've got plenty of crap to deal with.”

“Like Carson? And that pesky little death connection you established between Jade and Brett? Like your temper flaring and it ringing the dinner bell to everything dead within five miles? That crap?” Parker queried.

He'd passed the football and the quarterback for the team had taken it straight to touchdown territory.

I glared at his truth, staring him down. He stared right back.

Stalemate.

“Why should he do anything you say? Why should he listen? You're so damn consistent you take my breath away, Parker.” Gramps folded his arms across his chest, his face a neutral mask, his eyes flicking to the zombie soldiers.

But Gramps was never neutral, he was just great at hiding what he was feeling. There's a difference.

I hadn't mastered that yet.

Parker let me think, my thoughts furiously driving my synapses to fire in the right direction.

Suddenly, I had an idea. “Does this have anything to do with this dome world?”

Parker smiled. “What do you think?”

I looked at him, Tracker and the assembled zombies.

“I think I'm taking a field trip sooner than expected.”

He strode forward and Gramps tensed.

I clutched the wrench tighter. An involuntary reaction, I swear.

When Parker reached me, his zombie soldiers at his side, he put his palm out.

I looked at the innocuous hand.

Decision made, I fell off the cliff of my simple life. As I tumbled, I grasped the peace offering and made a deal with the devil, my hand closing around his. His zombies gasped when our hands clasped, a shot of death energy juicing them to the core.

Sometimes it was better dealing with the evil you know, than the one you didn't.

As our flesh pressed together in the age old gesture, I knew it was more than agreement, it was acceptance.

Of what I was. Of who I was going to be. For him, for me—for everyone.

Sometimes life was more than eating and sleeping. Existing. It was a machine of choice.

And mine was made.

****

“No shit, Hart!?” Jonesy asked, sucker jammed down his throat as he rolled it around in his mouth as the girls watched, fascinated by his nimble tongue dexterity.

Except Tiff, cuz she had one jammed down her throat too. Only because it had the promise of a wad of gum at the end. She'd get to that morsel too. Like a goal.

I smiled, answering Jonesy, my arm wrapped around Jade's shoulder, “Yeah, it was creepy-surreal. Parker showing up all, ʽcan ya help the causeʼ...”

“I don't trust him,” John said.

“Me either,” Mia agreed.

Jonesy shrugged. “Doesn't matter, we were gonna do the dome world anyway.” His eyes fell on us.

Bry said, “There is that. But somehow, Parker knowing what we're doing puts a spin on it.”

“I don't like it, but, I think I've gained enough focus to get us in and out if something goes wrong,” Randi said from her perch on Alex's lap.

“Corpse-boy can do the rest,” Jonesy said subtly, swinging the ball of his sucker in the air, his tongue flashing blue as he spoke.

I felt a little shitty but I thought I'd mention it. “Yeah, Logan Tracker was there too.”

I watched Sophie's eyes widen in surprise even as Jonesy's narrowed to black slits.

“Yeah? Who gives two shits and a F?” Jonesy said, jamming the blue sucker back in his craw violently. Amazing he hadn't gagged himself.

Tiff laughed, pulling hers out with a disgusting plop. “Sounds like you care plenty, Jones.” She eyed him up as he glared harder.

“Anyway, back to the logistics of our ʻfield tripʼ as Caleb so eloquently phrases it,” Archer began.

“I think we need more than the sketchy stuff he's throwing our way, don't you guys think?” Mia asked, flicking a piece of dark blond hair over her shoulder.

Bry shrugged a huge shoulder. Damn—had that guy gotten big over the last summer. Then he spoke into the silence of the hideaway, “I think Randi's right, you pack of paranormals can keep a lid on the unexpected and she can zap us back and forth,” he made a waffling motion with his calloused hand, beaten to death after our yard work blitz.

“Zap?” Randi brows knotted and she slid off Alex's knee. He gave her butt a slap.

Randi whirled on him. “Stop that, Alex.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “Just as soon as you stop squealing, I will.”

“Argh!” Tiff said, whipping her empty stick out of her mouth and popping an unnaturally blue bubble. Collapsing it ruthlessly, she snapped it into submission and looked around the silent room. “What?” She shrugged.

We all stared at Tiff, our ears ringing.

“Anyways, can ya just not perv-out on asses for like, five minutes?”

Alex grinned. “I'll make a colossal effort, sweet thing.”

“Yeah,” she stabbed her stick in his direction, “see that ya do, perv-boy.”

Randi giggled.

Jade rolled her eyes.

Asses and Alex. Yeah.

John put up his hands. “You guys are so amusing, let's get back to business.”

Right.

John outlined the plan, Jonesy paying close attention by unwrapping another sucker, swinging his legs, and generally not paying attention.

When John finally wrapped things up, “So Caleb is the key here. But first, we do reconnaissance of the dome world, then go from there.”

“When?” Jade asked then added, “I want to go, it seems safe.” Tiff rolled her eyes but Jade explained, “Remember that first time you met Caleb in the cemetery, Tiff?” Tiff's face fell. “It wasn't so safe, right?” Jade looked at me, and I smiled. “No offense, baby.”

Right. None taken.

“But we can't live in fear. What if Parker is actually trying to help? What if,” she paused and we all leaned forward to listen, “what if we can stop the Graysheets from how they're trying to control everything. Us.” She shrugged and met our eyes.

Couldn't fault my girl's logic. It was just—life had a way of unraveling that wasn't neat and perfect.

Usually it was a huge-ass mess.

John nodded. “Point taken. No time like the present, I guess.” He leveled a stare at the group, his pale blue eyes glowing softly in the low light of the hideaway. “It'll have potential for danger, I'm not going to lie. But,” he looked at each one of us, “if we can do something for the betterment of everyone, it will have been worth it.”

“Betterment, Terran? Screw that blowhard, let's just go and kick some ass, do the fortune teller routine and see how the program rolls,” Jonesy said.

John pointed a finger at Jonesy, grinning. “Or that.”

“I'm in,” Bry said, giving a sideways look at Mia.

Everyone gave their assent. Randi was the last, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. She mustered the sass that she had become known for and said, “I'm the driver so I'm on board.” She winked.

We buckled our seat belts and readied ourselves for inter-dimensional travel. Weird even for our standards, which were expanding.

All the time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

We fell out of a gaping tunnel of frozen blackness, rolling on top of one another in a messy tangle of limbs. The vertigo nailed us to the dirt floor where we'd landed, unable to stand from the dizziness.

Jonesy was the first who staggered to his feet, swaying. He turned to us. “We're definitely not in Kansas anymore! Damn!” He fist-pumped in the air. Reaching behind him, he pulled Sophie to her feet, her face pale beneath her normally healthy light coffee-colored skin.

The Js took in the walls of a dome-like structure, the air was like a sauna. “It's hot as hell in here Terran,” Jonesy said.

I rolled my eyes. “Alex talked his girl into giving us the teleport shot to...”

“Wherever the hell we are,” Bry commented with a cautious scan of the immediate area, his bravery springing back into action or—his stance of Most Willing to take a Beating.

Tiff looked at her feet which stood on a dirt floor, then spied a bench that was beside a huge door made of some kind of metal, a golden butter color. It shone softly in the ambient light that entered through walls that were milky and slightly opaque.

“Kinda reminds me of realm,” Sophie said in a quiet voice.

That couldn't have been a great memory, thinking of my “judo” instructor.

Sophie slapped the dirt off her thighs. I noticed her wince and saw her inspect a red mark on her arm, probably from falling out of that weird time warp thing.

I turned my attention to a spot of nothingness that was over our heads. Nothing looked different. I began to move away from the area then caught a slight shimmer in the air. So it wasn't totally invisible. Interesting. I was betting that outside, in natural bright light, it would look like a rainbow that moved and sparkled. Otherworldly. I gave an internal smirk to my vocab. We were, after all, way the hell away from Kansas. Sometimes Jonesy had it goinʼ on.

All eyes turned to Randi, who was all girl-of-the-hour. “ʼKay, so you're the Dimensional. Can you tell us, where in the blue hell are we?” Jonesy asked in his usual delicate style.

Randi looked around for a long moment, her exotic almond-shaped eyes missing nothing. “Nope.”

Totally helpful.

John had wandered over to the door and was running an exploratory hand over the metal plank that barred the exit. He straightened, turning to the group. “This is a hand-wrought forging.”

Jonesy threw his hands up in the air. “English, ya putz!”

“Yeah John, if ya got some details, barf it out,” Tiff said,the sound of her snapping gum oddly swallowed by the soft walls.

John ignored them. Instead, he walked to where the door stopped and pressed his hand into the spongy material of the sphere wall, the depressions held for a few seconds after he took his hand away then it filled in once again.

I looked up, noticing small holes dotted the surface randomly. Like the dome had a case of the measles. Were those supposed to be there? I looked at Jade and motioned for her to come over to me. She did, her eyes everywhere while my eyes took in the sight of her. Jade was okay. She should have been, she'd landed on me on the way out.

I smiled, nothing but a trampoline guys.

John exhaled softly. “I think I can estimate a time period.” He placed his hand on the back of a bench made of some kind of metal that was a weathered green, a spigot for water with a hand pump at its top. He motioned toward the door with his palm. “It is a turn-of-the-century location.”

Everyone looked at him blankly. He sighed. “Turn-of-the-last-century,” he clarified.

“Dude, we've traveled back in time?” Alex quizzed.

Randi gave him A Look.

He shrugged, his massive shoulders moving like a separate entity, their own zip code.

“No! I told you guys, I can't move through time, only around it.” We stared at Randi silently. She tapped her foot. I guess it made sense to her.

“Okay, here's the thing. I'm a Dimensional, I can visit alternate realities. Worlds that are parallel to ours. This is the dome world. It's the one I flashed to before they gave me the juice that tore me back to our world.”

Alex jerked a thumb at the gizmo they'd traveled through. “What's that then, baby?”

Randi shrugged. “I don't know, exactly. It's like a doorway was already there. Someone has been through here before.”

Parker hadn't said dick about a doorway. Or how he'd gotten to the dome world. Thanks for the head's up. Ya chump. But I knew what his answer would have been. He'd have shot his mouth off about how I only needed part of the story or I'd boink up the time-continuum or some crap like that.

That was me, keep me in the dark and feed me shit. Like a mushroom.

John walked toward Randi. “You mean a Dimensional? Someone like you?”

“No—someone needed that hardware to get here. They didn't have the juice.”

Tiff snorted.

I knew the Graysheets were behind it. Screwing around in other people's stuff—their worlds. Their Business. Up everyone's asses.

Uh-huh.

“So how'd we get here on the Dimensional superhighway?” Jonesy asked.

Randi lifted a shoulder and a puff of dust plumed. “I don't know how it works. I just got designated this year. They're guessing as usual.”

The Adults. Guessing. Go figure. I gave another internal smirk.

“I bet mommy dearest loves your new skills,” Jonesy snickered.

Randi scowled.

Actually, I knew she was pretty unhappy with Randi at the moment. And it wasn't just her newfound ability, it was Randi's Body boyfriend. And as Mom would say, the company she kept. Yup.

Alex came to her defense, “She can't help who her mom is, Jones.”

Jonesy grinned. “Yeah, I know, but it's pretty damn funny anyway.”

“Yeah, effing hilarious.” Randi swung her long black hair behind her shoulder, giving Jonesy a long-suffering look.

“Let's get out of here, it's creepy,” Jade said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, her puffy still on. I couldn't believe she was wearing the hot thing.

I was about to strip mine off when Bry and Tiff yelled simultaneously, “No!” They looked at each other, laughing. Tiff said, “We came all this way to check shit out, and I wanna. Plus,” she pulled everyone in with her intense gaze, “Hart has to save the day or some shit like that.” Tiff rocked back on her heels while a bubble burst from her lips that was timed to perfection.

Everyone laughed along with Miss Cavalier but I was distracted. I'd felt a familiar pull. Looking through the murky wall of the dome I saw them. Hundreds.

Grave markers.

The call of the dead a siren's wail. Just outside the old-fashioned door.

My friends saw my expression and followed my gaze.

John's brows jerked up to his hairline, his hair a deep bronze in the low light of the sphere tunnel. “Ah—no, Caleb. No corpses. We don't have enough info. We don't know what we're getting into here. Or where we're even at!”

“That's the glory of it, Terran,” Jonesy rubbed his hands together, “it's the surprise factor.”

Tiff and Bry nodded.

Sophie piped in, “That's just it, what if something bad happens?” she stated, chewing her bottom lip softly, eyes anxious.

Lewis spoke for the first time, “What could happen? There's no Graysheets here. And,” he held up an elegant finger, not a wrinkle or speck of dirt on his clothes, “if this is an old-fashioned world, they don't have the technology to be dangerous. They'll be primitive right?”

He had a point, but a lot of times our excursions defied logic.

Utterly.

Jade tweaked my sleeve, the sweat from the heat of this place beading on my forehead. I glanced down.

“I've got a bad feeling about this.”

“It'll be okay. I mean... look at them all,” I said, indicating the grave markers, the white crosses standing at attention just outside the dome, their forms slightly obscure because of the material of the dome's wall.

“Dead are dead, right?” I said to her with confidence, squeezing her against me, the vanilla smell of Jade mingling with the humid air.

I felt Jade nod. She was totally missing my dose of confidence. I had an arsenal of the dead at my disposal.

What could happen?

Even Parker's ambiguous details, my future in the hands of some Precognitive I'd never met, couldn't faze me.

The guys went for the door, itching to escape the hot tunnel.

“I'm gettinʼ ass-sweat here guys! Let's get the hell out of Dodge!” Jonesy wailed.

Sophie glared. “Nice visual Jonesy, so wanted to know that detail.”

“Okay Princess, you never sweat?” Jonesy asked, spearing her with his comment.

Sophie gaped at him in shock.

It wouldn't be the first time.

“No butt hair, doofus,” Tiff said by way of explanation, spitting her gum out on the dirt floor of the tunnel in a wet blob.

“Oh. My. God. Seriously? Did you just say that?” Randi asked in disbelief.

Tiff shrugged and dive-bombed her head forward. “So? I got five brothers. Ass. Hair. Figure it out. It's like a damn greenhouse effect or some crap like that.”

All the guys were silent. Silently dying.

Mia saved it. “I think that is the least of our concerns.” She indicated the Door That Would Not Budge.

Yeah. Let's get back on track with something that didn't skewer the guys.

Alex laughed, breaking the awkwardness of anatomical differences. “I'll get it, no problem.” He walked over and jerked the solid brass bar off the hooks that held it. He carefully laid it on the dirt floor of the sphere tunnel. His eyes studied the locks at all four corners and his eyes fell on Archer.

“Get over here and do your Lock Manipulator mojo, Lewis.”

Archer jogged over, and with a jumping run he leaped, slapping the top locks with the flat of his palm. The tumblers moved, cooperating smoothly with the magic that allowed him to manipulate any lock ever made. In whatever world, apparently.

He nailed the ones that restrained the bottom. Alex took hold of the portion of the door that slid along runners of a contrasting metal. He grunted, saying, “Hell, these have to weigh a ton!”

Literally.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped out.

I was nailed with the freshest air I'd ever smelled, the coolness of it like drinking a tall glass of ice water, at once refreshing and perfect.

Jade gave a small smile and Bry said, “Tiff, pick that gross gum up.” He stabbed a finger at the wad languishing in the middle of the tunnel floor, dirt clinging to it like a magnet of apple green goodness.

“Nah, posterity bro. Gives them something to think about.”

Wonderful. Tiff, predictable as usual.

We walked outside and the buzz of the dead rose to a chorus. Tiff and I looked at each other. Turning to John I asked, “Can ya tune-up? I can't think, pal.”

John scrunched his face together and a well of silence filled my head where the voices of the dead had been, the tide of death receding for the moment.

Tiff gave me an uneasy glance.

“What?” I asked.

She lifted a shoulder and everyone that was outside turned to look at whatever was making Tiff uncomfortable. That was noteworthy.

Tiff and Jonesy shared that trait, never feeling a minute of discomfort, even when they should have.

“They seemed... sad,” Tiff said, toeing a strip of the tall grass that had an edging of snow clinging to its base.

I turned to the markers, rows upon rows of dead bodies. I nodded in agreement. Their collective voice had that quality.

“Sometimes death is sad, I guess,” I responded, a sudden melancholy gripping me.

“Death grieves,” Jade agreed, picking up on my mood, her bare hand held in mine. Her Empath nature boosted our mutual understanding, my feelings a conduit to hers.

Mia and Bry stood close together, their bodies touching. She looked around, everyone quiet for once, even Jonesy.

A miracle.

Mia spoke for us, the mass of graves encircling our group, nearly reaching the crest of the hill where an old forest began. “Death weeps.”

I nodded. That was exactly it.

Alex went to the door and began to shut it behind us, Archer locking it after it rolled to closure with a musical clang of finality.

“Okay! I give up! This is effing miserable,” Jonesy railed at the elements. “It's colder that a witch's tit on the shady side of an iceberg!”

I barked out a laugh. “Sounds like you've been hanging around Gramps too long.”

John cocked an eyebrow, huffing his ass through the woods. We'd walked the better part of a day and we were tired, thirsty and hungry. Not in that order.

“Buck up, Jones,” Bry said, “we'll find some kind of watering hole or something.”

Bry of the ever-faithful that something would crop up in the wilderness. That was the Weller Motto. At least some things were consistent, even in another world.

“Yeah! That's the mojo I'm talking about. Besides, I've got a whole pack of gum!” Tiff said like she'd discovered the winning lottery ticket.

The group let out a collective groan. “Piss off joy-suckers, more for me then.” She stalked ahead to where John was. But he'd pulled up short, his hand raised beside his head in the universal “halt” gesture.

“Quietly,” he hissed, and us guys got on point just from Terran's tone of voice alone.

Jade stood behind me, peeking out around my body, her hand a warm presence in mine. What could be happening out here in the middle of nowhere?

Quite a bit apparently.

My eyes scanned between the holes made by the branches and saw close to a hundred men, pretty rough lookinʼ, with weapons and purpose. Their clothing was a strange combo of jeans, button down shirts and tunics that looked like they were made from—animal hide.

Hell, they'd hang those ass clowns out to dry in my world. Wearing dead animals for clothes? Totally whacked. I guess they didn't work up a sweat about the environment here. Huh.

My eyes swept the open meadow, catching sight of a group of four. Two chicks and two guys. One of the men was a ginormous sucker, as tall as Terran and nearly as big as Alex. The other guy was dressed in clothes that were really bizarre too and the small girl had hair so red I could see it clearly from here, the taller girl was muscly lookinʼ—solid. She had that martial arts look to her, wary. Ready.

Then I felt them; their combined energy crashed into me.

The dead engulfed the meadow, their bones strewn everywhere in a mass grave, their need to reconnect to a singular body a plea that almost drove me to my knees. Jade felt the echo of it and gasped, snatching her hand away.

Tiff turned, her Affinity for the Dead ringing in her body like a chime struck. “What is that?” she whispered her gaze locked with mine.

I felt like I was trying to breathe underwater.

John left the border of the forest, moving toward me. “What?”

I gave a wheezing response, “The dead-they-they're everywhere but nowhere.”

“They're broken!” Tiff said, feeling the tip of the iceberg compared to what resonated inside me.

“What the hell?” Jonesy ranted.

Bry elbowed him to shut up.

Archer frowned, and Mia drew closer.

In a few seconds, the entire group of teens surrounded me where I stood, pegged where I kneeled by the call of the dead.

Finally, with John's psychic Null power dulling their screams, I was finally able to reply, “Tiff's right. They're... not together, their bodies are broken and chucked all over the place.”

“Why?” Alex asked, casting a glance at the assembly of ragged fighters, filthy and fierce in their uniformity. Then he looked at the small band across the meadow from them. They looked like a different group entirely.

None of it looked good to me.

“War. There was some kind of... battle or something,” I explained and Jade was careful not to touch my bare skin. She didn't want to share any part of the onslaught of this dead. They felt different than the dead of our world.

Tiff walked closer to where I stood. “Who did it, do ya think?”

My eyes absorbed the huge contingent, then the smaller. “I don't know. But it's a safe bet that the group over there was part of it.” I jerked my chin in the direction of the Loser Faction. I had a random thought of Carson Hamilton fitting right in like peanut butter and jelly, as Gramps would say.

The sweat on my palms gelled, and I wiped a trembling hand against my mouth, exchanging an uneasy look with Jade. Trouble followed our group no matter what. Landing our asses in a parallel world hadn't changed the group dynamic.

John eyes followed the larger group as it closed around the smaller. The biggest male of the smaller group, clutched a woman that looked part wild against his body. It was when the leader of what looked to be a criminal group touched the woman's braid that the male holding her stiffened and all hell broke loose.

A small faction of the losers grabbed the male, the lone female stood facing the leader. Even from a distance you could see her defiance.

Touch it.

I moved forward. As the big dude was held by several of the others, the leader raised his fist and struck her so hard she staggered back, falling to the ground, her golden head bent against the frozen backdrop of ice and snow.

I surveyed my friends. Seeing the identical expression on their faces and I decided for us all, “I was never much for chick beating.”

“Me neither,” Bry said, his hands clenching into fists.

“Yup, I'm in—let's tag their asses!” Jonesy shouted.

“I like it.” Alex was already moving into the openness of the meadow, the girls trailing behind.

Except Tiff, she came beside me. Tiff and I listened to the low drone of the dead at our feet, everywhere we stepped held the murmur of their discontent.

Nobody mentioned the odds of a handful of teenagers against seventy guys that looked seriously dangerous.

Courage is ignoring your fear.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I turned when we were within four meters of the group, my heart lodged inside my throat like a heated, vibrating lump. They had seemed somehow less when we'd been near the tree line. But now, in the open meadow, they looked more.

Dirtier.

Scarier.

Larger.

Just more.

I moved forward just as another group broke into the meadow and Jonesy said, “Holy shit! Look at those guys!”

We did.

They weren't human. I was trying to quantify what the hell they were when Alex piped in with, “Those guys are Water World dudes.”

John said, “Would you shut up? Kinda getting ready for something major and you're referencing classic movies?”

I stared at them. They all looked like Alex, but even bigger, taller.

And then there were the gills. They came toward us like a slow moving wall of muscle, flesh and weaponry.

Our whole group backed away as they came. Somehow, they were scarier than the filthy group.

Jade whispered, “What are they?”

I shook my head, I didn't know.

“Well hell, this is turning into a clusterfuck!” Tiff said, snapping her gum.

“Shut up, Tiff,” Bry said off-handedly.

The three groups converged in a loose triangle.

The girl with the fiery hair spoke first.

Caleb watched as she looked at the wild woman that lay at her feet, the leader of the Loser Group faced her, the big dude that had been with her in the beginning was held by Loser's minions. Shaping up to be the mess I'd thought it'd be.

Yes indeedy.

She looked over her shoulder as a big dude with blue ice chips for eyes strode to stand behind her. His hands landed on her small shoulders in an obvious grip of possessive protection.

I recognized that stance right away.

She turned her face in the direction of our group. And what a face it was, the light covering of filth didn't hide her delicate beauty. Luminous sea-kissed eyes overtook a creamy soft triangle of a face with a mass of red hair that was quite dark, not an ounce of the carrot color that John had. She stared as curiously at us as we did at her group. All the groups were stunned by our appearance.

A frozen moment stole over everyone. It was shattered when the tiny girl, who was actually a woman, said in a regal voice as smoothly confident as any I'd ever heard, “I am Clara, Queen of the Kingdom of Ohio.” She looked at each of our faces that must seem foreign to her. “Who might you be?”

The leader of the creeper group stepped toward ours and my eyes flicked to his as I warned, “Stay there pal. You don't look like the friendly type.”

The man scowled at me as he took our group in. The female warrior, gills included, slid off a humungous horse and walked to where the Queen stood, the flame of the queen's hair was lifted by the wind, tangling around the huge wrists of the man that stood behind her, his restless eyes challenging every space they landed.

More of the guys with gills came to stand in a loose, battle-ready position behind the Queen and her guy. One huge dude with coal black hair like Jade's but strange, amber-colored eyes went to the fallen woman with the gold hair, sticking his hand out in an offer of help.

A rumble of electricity pulsed once as their flesh connected and Jade sucked in a breath, her hand involuntarily going to her throat.

“What?” I asked.

“They're related!”

“Yeah?” I said, not understanding why that mattered.

“Cuz they didn't know,” she answered, looking at the two with shocked wonder.

I swung my face to theirs, the look of surprised pleasure identically expressed as they gazed at each other then embraced.

“No way,” I said.

“Way,” Jade whispered.

The man pulled away from the woman. I'd thought she was tall until she was in the circle of his arms and there she looked tiny. He leaned back from her, intense joy on his face. “Sister.”

Jade smiled. A tiny spot of happiness stolen in the middle of a field of misery and portentous war to come.

I had a bad feeling about this. I hadn't gotten a sense of what or even who all these different groups were but things were coming to a head, I could sense it when the Leader of the Losers spoke, “You trespass here, Traveler.” His shifty eyes sweeping over his group of friends, lingering too long on the girls. I could feel my eyes narrow.

What was this Traveler bullshit?

Randi had come to stand beside me. “I think the chumps that came before us muddied the waters. We're gonna be real popular. Uh-huh,” she spoke quietly.

Tiff looked around, having heard that last. “Yup, better tune-up, Hart. Things are gonna go pear-shaped.”

Gee, ya think?

The leader's eyes narrowed on our group, then shifted to the dudes with gills. “This doesn't concern you of the Band.”

I looked at the huge warriors he addressed. Ribbons of pink flesh wrapped their necks, flaring slightly with their breathing. They didn't seem exactly thrilled with this jerk. My attention settled back on Mr. Pleasant. I considered his speech, an old-fashioned mash of modern and old, hard to understand.

My head jerked up with his next comment.

“Leave the women with us and we won't kill you.” He threw a palm behind himself to indicate the men waiting at his back. “Our numbers are not to your advantage,” he restated smugly.

ʼkay—it was official—I didn't like this asswipe. But there was something I wanted to get straight. “Hey!”

He swung a disfigured face towards me. A not too distant beating had maimed it in a disgusting mangle of flesh. “What do ya mean, ʻleave the womenʼ?”

But it was one of the big warriors who answered, the one that didn't wear a metal breastplate but somehow resembled the other humungous male. “These men be of the fragment. Marauders that plunder, pillage and confiscate anything of value upon the spoils of their raids.”

The woman with the gold hair that had been struck said, “Aye, ʼtis true.” The man who was her brother, his arms wrapped protectively around her body, gave the slightest nod in agreement.

My eyes went to the redhead who had first spoken, the queen. She was unbelievably tiny, smaller even than Jade. I decided I'd ask her, “So these guys,” I indicated with a loose palm, what I now understood was the fragment, “rob everybody and take the women?”

The serious man at her back nodded. “We leave, and it will be your women as well.”

Not on my watch it wouldn't. I turned to my friends, my face speaking for me.

Jonesy said it best, “Eff that. You're not touching our chicks, or any of the other ones ya pervs!” He emphasized this by pounding a fist in an open palm, his teeth flashing very white in the middle of the silent meadow.

It was pretty effective as war calls went.

The creeper's brows drew together as our words sunk in. I didn't think he needed a translator. He may not have understood everything word for word but he got our meaning.

Yeah buddy.

His mouth lift in a lopsided sneer, and it was in that moment I was certain he had confidence in the outcome of a conflict with us. He thought we would lose, his numbers greater.

A smile formed on my face, we'd just see.

I turned as the Queen spoke, slicing the tension as effectively as if she used a knife. But it was her smooth statement that captured the attention of us all, “There are few females Outside. This group roams about in the happenstance that an unprotected one may be captured for exploit.”

Our group assimilated her words quickly.

“Okay, just point out the bad guys and let's kick some ass!” Bry said, to which Jonesy stabbed a fist like a sword above him.

I began assessing the Queen and the warriors at her back. My count said around ten, the females useless. Except for the two that somehow looked alike. Both like female versions of the huge men. Finally, I shifted my gaze to the one that had his huge hands wrapped around her upper arms, his blue eyes like pieces of the sky.

As I looked, I recognized something familiar in them. The Queen was his Jade. He'd die to protect her.

Well ditto. I took an instant liking to the warriors. Parallel worlds, parallel principles.

I was totally rolling with that program. “ʼKay, these ones are obviously the bad guys,” I said and the men of the fragment unsheathed dirks from their hiding places.

Definitely meant business.

The guys in my group stood in front of the girls.

Tiff came to stand at my side. “How many?” she asked.

I turned, giving her a hard stare. “Living or dead?”

“Dead,” Tiff responded.

I paused for a heartbeat... two. “Enough.”

“ʼKay, let's round up the O.K. undead corral. Even up these odds.”

“Caleb,” Jade began, clearly sensing something.

I turned, not digging her pinched expression.

“I think... I sense the dead are these guys,” she gave a pointed look at the fragment.

I hesitated, thinking about her words. “Won't matter,” I paused for a few heartbeats, “the dead are always the same.”

“Daniel!” the Queen shouted as the men of the fragment began to move toward them and the man at her back dragged her behind the shield of his body.

Daniel responded, wrenching himself free from the guys that held him, unsheathing his long sword as he did.

“What do the young ones say?” I heard her shout in question.

Daniel responded with a translation even as he swung, “They will assist us in our defense!” he shouted over the beginnings of an unbeatable battle, the leader of the fragment moving straight for Queen Clara as the male of the Band pulled his lips away from his teeth in a smile of pure rage and vengeance. To me that grin looked savage.

His vengeance had that edge to it, a savage vengeance.

Unleashed against the enemy.

I only had enough time to grab Tiff's hand, recognizing The Loser Leader and crew for the dirty fighters I knew they'd be. I was familiar with that style.

I'd had lots of practice on that score.

I quickly calculated Jade's position and waded into the center of the battle, Tiff's hand dragged along by my grasp.

Terran met my eyes, releasing his Null-ness like water bursting through a dam. The voices of the dead roared to the surface of my consciousness in a brutal tidal wave of sound, sense and alarm. An ear-shattering chorus only Tiff and I could hear.

She was gettinʼ the full tune in, her power amplifying mine.

We put out a call to the dead that could be felt for miles and we watched as bones erupted from the ground, in a tornado of bleached ivory. They smacked into those of the fragment in their haste to reassemble to their former selves. As if pulled by invisible strings, the organic matter of their bodies melded together midair, solidifying from nothing to the zombies I knew they would become.

I smiled instantly at the sight of their reconstruction. Rage and pleasure spun together in a familiar spiral, my power over the dead unaffected by location.

By world.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, the ghost of Grampsʼ voice breathed through my brain, even as the dead coalesced and became whole.

Standing and ready for my words.

My will.

One of the huge Band guys brought out two small knives, one for each huge hand. The warrior woman stayed close to his side, her own weapons at the ready. When the first wave of the dead burst out of the snow laden meadow, their bones rose like ghostly branches into the air with skin like sand—a turbulent cyclone of collision and purpose.

We were ready.

The men of the Band's eyes widened as they paused in their assault, their eyes squinting in recognition.

They looked at me and my friends. I'd seen that expression before. Evil. They thought what I was doing was evil. Maybe it was, but it was necessary.

That's the way evil sometimes was, necessary.

The leader of the fragment hesitated as the bodies of my dead knitted before his eyes. Bones flowed and connected on an unseen wind, skin shrouding the skeletal forms until the remains were covered in a cloak of humanity. The leader stepped back from the storm of the dead, as they came alive in front of him.

Fear filled his deformed face, and had a wave of fierce pleasure wash over me. I knew he was a crappy guy, that he'd had a plan of action against the warriors and the Queen, that he apparently would've stolen the girls. He had the disease of evil.

And my zombies were the cure.

Our gazes locked, and he understood it was my hand of power that'd been called, that was going to even up the playing field. The leader of the fragment watched as the dead came to me like a dog brought to heel. A dog that strained on a short chain, ready to fight. Ready to dominate on my command.

The leader looked at the newly risen. They must look like they'd come from thin air. He probably thought it was by black magic.

He sneered, his resolve returning. This guy wasn't going to alter his plan. He was a focused dude.

Well good for him. So was I.

He surged forward, thrusting his knife into one of my zombies that was closest to him, recoiling as the smell hit him even as his blade nailed my dead. I felt the zombie's response, knew its reaction long before he did.

Its unstoppable surety.

I smiled to myself, Tiff grinned from ear to ear. The dead felt good; good to have, good to control.

Just good.

My zombie's rotted hand had no trouble gripping the hilt of the dagger that the leader of the fragment had plunged, the ass end glowing softly out of the deepest cavity of his body.

I sifted through the basest sludge of the mind of the dead and I heard two things: he'd known this creeper in life, and there had been no love lost between the two—the asshat's name was Tucker.

Tiff and I plucked that knowledge right out of the slow-moving pond of his mind.

My zombie turned to face me, eyes rolling wetly in his skull, plums of black encased in flesh gone soft with rot.

My gaze flicked to Tucker, having impaled one of my dead and the command fell away from my mind like an errant puzzle piece that found its place.

Subdue him.

My gaze found the other dead that were gathered and scattered the thought among them like rice at a wedding. They picked up the sifted directive and their glittering eyes fell on the fragment which remained, who lived. The very ones they had fought beside while alive became their enemies in death.

Subdue them all, I commanded again.

The fragment that were now zombies turned to me as a unit, in various stages of decomposition, the air not frozen enough to dull the scent of them.

It was not kill. Not yet. But it may come to that.

I realized that when it came to zombies as weapons, I was a slow learner.

My dead moved forward like a mass of deadly intent, flesh sloughing and falling with their movement as they filtered through the living fragment, ripping limbs from live people as they lifted their weapons of metal to kill those that no longer lived.

The dead were unstoppable and Tucker saw it, running to the forest and hiding from the wave of their reeking retribution.

Blood covered every surface, splattered in crimson waves, as organic bits of dead and living flesh mingled on the snow that had fallen, turning the white meadow to red.

Tiff and I held on to each other's hands, Jade swaying at my side, taking in the reality of the war in front of her, careful not to touch any part of my skin.

I was too late to help when I saw one of the bigger males of the fragment grab Randi, her squeal as he laid hands on her heard even above the fighting.

Alex whipped his head in her direction, somehow not aware they'd gotten separated in the chaos and charged toward her.

“No!” Jade screamed and every zombie in the field felt the hiccup of my fear, watching the fist raise above Randi's small face, the fragment poised to beat her into unconsciousness.

The zombies paused in their war against their brethren, all eyes on the one that would abuse Randi, my thoughts pulsing in their brains. I was helpless to stop the tenor of my thoughts and keep the leash taut.

Then she began to glow and I knew what was happening.

We were leaving; Randi's fear had triggered the dimensional shift that would take us back to our world.

I reached my hand toward my dead as I clutched Tiff's hand.

My vision wavered—the meadow dimming—and I pushed all the command of the dead I had left, the tether a highway to their connection to me. Rest, I intoned, the last solid thing I felt before getting sucked into the vortex of the strangeness between the worlds.

As my eyes swept the meadow, rushing backwards as if pulled from behind, I looked into the Queen's eyes and saw so clearly what she wished for me to see.

Her gratitude shone like a lone jewel in the middle of a sea of crimson battle, the weak winter light of that world slowly darkening to nothingness.

My vision went black and a veil of ice coated my body as I traveled through heated darkness.

CHAPTER NINE

Randi sat up and looked around.

The dump. They were at the hideaway.

Her heartbeat slowed gradually as she took in their surroundings, the horrible guy that was gonna bash her face—gone.

They were safe. She looked up at Alex's face as he gathered her to him, his large body overwhelming hers absolutely. She trembled against him, hearing the groaning of her friends all around her.

That was close, Randi thought.

Too close.

“What the hell was that?” Jonesy blustered. “Could you have given us some goddamned warning? I feel like my stomach just got returned-to-effing-sender inside out!” Jonesy stood, hitting his thighs with his hands, dust plumes rising. Some was the dirt of the hideaway, the remainder was from their travels in the dome world.

Alex stood, Randi wrapped in his arms. “Hey pal, you signed on for this little exploration knowing full well it was experimental. Don't jump Randi's crap because it's not what ya signed up for.”

John groaned, his ass in the air and his forehead pressed against his knuckles. “Terrible,” he muttered.

Sophie sat there with her legs splayed in front of her, head in hands. “How do you feel Randi?”

“Confused but otherwise, okay.”

John stumbled to his feet, looking over at Jonesy, Archer was still out cold. “How do ya feel, Terran?” Jonesy asked.

“Jackhammer—multiple times to the skull,” John responded, rubbing his temples and taking stock of the group.

I found Jade a few feet away and ran over to her, giving her a gentle shake. She rolled over, groaning. Jade opened her eyes and immediately closed them again, holding her stomach like she wanted to upchuck. I stood over her, trying to help her up but she shook her head. “Not yet, Caleb,” she said, putting her palm up in the gesture for wait.

Alex gave a look to Randi and she nodded. He walked over to the small fridge that they kept in the hideaway and snagged some water bottles out of the depths. They were cool but not cold. Alex raised his eyebrows at Jonesy.

“Yeah, I'll get right on that muscle-head.” Jonesy stalked over to the fridge and gave it a light tap with his finger, the internal bulb, fueled by pulse electrodes, blinked on and the air compressor and other internal mechanisms sprung to life, whirring and clunking.

Jonesy smiled. “That'll do it.”

“Thanks, Jones,” Tiff said, grabbing a water from Alex.

He frowned. “Manners, Tiff!”

She smiled evilly. “Yeah... thanks.”

Bry rolled his eyes. “Come on, sis, don't bust his balls.”

“Uh-huh, thanks for the reminder, I was so confused about his balls.”

Jade laughed. “Ah, Tiff—please!”

I noticed everyone was awake and moving except Archer. “Jonesy, check on Lewis, looks like he's still out.”

“He's fine, Hart. It'll take him a little longer, being kinda on the girly side or whatever.”

“I heard that, Mark!” Archer said from his prone position on the floor, “I'm gay, not a transvestite. There's a difference for those in the know.”

Jonesy grunted.

Great, everyone's awake, judging by the sarcasm getting flung around like monkey shit. “Okay guys, let's talk,” I said.

“About?” Tiff said around a mouthful of water.

Sophie trained her eyes to the ceiling of smashed cars. “Yʼknow, that weird place Randi just jerked us out of!”

“Right!” Jonesy nodded vigorously, “that.”

John came forward out of the shadowy corners of the room. “I'd like to go back.”

“No way, Terran! Are ya thinkinʼ? Remember the creepers out in the field?” Jonesy asked.

Tiff laughed. “Yeah. The dead ones or live ones?”

Jonesy waved that away. “Nah, I liked the dead guys, they cleaned shit up great!” He fist-pumped.

Sophie rolled her eyes again.

There was a lot of that going around, post-war glee.

John shook his head and clarified, “No. I want to explore that dome. Inside. It appears the area outside the dome is dangerous.”

“That's clever John, really,” Archer said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

John shot him a withering look. “Obviously, we just about got stomped out there, and I am not keen on purposefully putting ourselves in harm's way again. But, the dome...”

“It was cool, but John,” I said, spreading my arms away from my body, glancing at an ashen Jade, still coming around on the dirt floor of our hangout. “We don't have enough information to get the feels about going back. And look at how sick everyone got.”

“Not everyone,” Alex said.

That was true. I studied the group. “Who feels okay?”

Alex, Tiff, Randi and myself.

Why? Why some and not others?

John's brow furrowed and he said the words I knew he would, “We're going back.” When voices rose in protest he lifted his hand, “There are those of our group that had a greatly reduced manifestation of symptoms. Something mitigated that effect. What was it?”

“Who gives a ripe shit, Terran?” Jonesy asked on a contained shout.

“I do,” John replied, his eyes steady on Jonesy. “And you should too. After all, who got us involved in this little jaunt?”

They all knew the answer to that, looking at me.

Parker. Jeffrey Parker, and by association, the crew. That would be the scientists responsible for the gateway into the dome world. Gary and Joe Zondorae.

How had they traveled to the world of Queen Clara and the dome? They were using the dimensional superhighway like Jonesy said. Why were they visiting that world? Graysheets only ever had one thing in mind: exploitation. How had they tapped into what Randi possessed? Were they folding space and time? Distance? I didn't know. But we'd find out. It could be that what was in that world, held answers for ours.

That's what a cryptic Parker had indicated.

John made up the mind for the group. “Did anyone notice anything about the dome that didn't belong?”

“Like Sesame Street?” Alex asked.

“Listen, Sims—Sesame Street—you mean that lame ass puppet show from a million years ago?” Jonesy asked.

Alex scowled. “They had a game on there, and the thing that doesn't fit means it needs to go.”

“I don't know why you keep referencing ancient pulsevision shows but whatever. Listen,” John's eyes held the group's, “the dome is supposed to be self-contained, right?”

They nodded. Tiff snapped her gum (she had an endless supply) saying as though unconvinced, “If you say so, Terran.”

“I do.” He drilled her with his eyes and she narrowed hers. “It is the function of that structure to keep those inside of it separate from the elements outside its boundaries.”

I snapped my fingers. “I gotcha, the holes...”

John was grinning like I was his prize pupil.

Alex said, “They don't belong.”

“Bingo.” John pointed a finger at Alex.

Alex grinned, giving the piss off look to Jonesy who made a pfft noise and folded his arms across his chest.

“So we go back,” I said to John, the distinct feeling of unfinished business driving my decision.

He nodded. “If we want answers, if we want to stop the Graysheets—we need to find out where all of this came from.”

“All of what, John?” Jade asked.

“Us,” John said cryptically.

“What do ya mean?” Tiff asked.

“Do you think all this is coincidence? Our abilities, what we've been told about their origins?” John asked rhetorically.

I answered anyway, “My dad mapped the genome. But the spiel about the paranormal markers and their inception—those precepts came straight from a Graysheet.”

“So, it could be anything. We could be more guinea pig than we know,” Archer said.

“Yeah, I've never been so happy that I'm a mundane. They probably spliced all you guys with monkey DNA!” Bry said, laughing.

Nobody else laughed.

Maybe they had, or something else. My mental wheels turned as we made plans to return to the other world.

Clara's world.

“Come on, Archer.” Jonesy's eyes were two points of light in the darkness of one of the highest security buildings ever conceived.

Graysheet territory. My chest squeezed painfully with the knowledge of what we were doing.

Archer looked at Jonesy. “Mark, this is a controlled environment, I can't rush things because of your anxiety.”

“Oh for eff's sake, can it, and get us in there!”

Archer smiled, turning back to the pulse-pad and palming it.

“Parker said the material would be here for us,” I said, wishing Clyde was here to offer, back up or something. It was one of the first times I could remember wanting a zombie around before they magically appeared at the worst times (or the best, depends on how ya look at it).

The door slid open with a whisper, the circular metal pegs sliding out of the holes they'd been fitted into moments before.

Archer turned, his perfect face in profile. “We're in boys, let's get what we came for and leave.”

“Good plan, Lewis,” John said, striding forward and entering the narrow opening, the door having slid open just wide enough to allow a single person through.

“Don't like this creepy-ass place,” Jonesy muttered, sliding through the opening sideways, the door at least a foot thick of brushed stainless steel, glowing softly from the interior LED pulse-fueled lights, which backlit the work spaces.

My eyes roamed the interior of the room. I spotted a file cabinet built into the wall, and of the same material as the door. In fact, the whole damn place was stainless.

“These guys dig their metal,” Alex said from the back. I turned to see him struggling through the door. He got stuck.

“Nice, muscle-head,” Jonesy said.

Alex scowled. He laced his fingers together and flat-palmed the door, pushing slightly and it gave under his manual manipulation, moving another foot. “Who the hell can fit through that!” he huffed.

John glowered. “Quiet. Just because Parker gave an engraved invitation to bring down the Graysheets doesn't mean we should ring the dinner bell.”

Right.

Alex nodded. “Let's get that file and get outta here.”

Archer went to the file cabinet and pressed his thumb into the pad. Apprehension washed his features. “They're going to know I was here,” he said, staring at his hand.

“Nah,” John said and approached Archer. “Here, let me.” He put his thumb over the top of Lewisʼ. They had their thumbs stacked on the pulse-lock when everyone heard the internal tumblers move, sliding against each other and releasing their hold.

The file cabinet popped open.

Archer looked at John. “What-did you?”

“Yes,” John sighed. “It's my first illegal act.” He looked into my eyes. “It better be worth it.”

I nodded. “Listen, pal, we get the goods on the Graysheets, save the dome world, and find out whether we've got donkey DNA.”

“Monkey, dipshit,” Jonesy said without a trace of humor.

I grimaced. “Yeah, whatever; genes we shouldn't have.”

“Too late now,” Alex said, flexing the huge muscles of his arm, preternaturally strong from his genes. Minus the cool gills.

“But it's time we do something other that reacting to these morons. We don't want them perpetuating their bullshit on any more kids.”

“Biggish word for you Hart,” Archer noted.

I winked. “I have my moments. Besides, I've worked really hard to distract everyone from the fact I'm the genome scientist's kid.”

The Js rolled their eyes. “You can't hide brains, Hart,” Jonesy said.

“And you can't fix stupid,” Alex added.

“But people keep trying,” John said, clearly puzzled.

“There is that,” Archer added, reaching into the file cabinet to extract the file, its credit-card size perfect for our purposes.

It read: Genetic Integration Project-Zondorae.

I jerked the fake one out of my pocket, handing it to Archer. He grasped it smoothly and slid it into the glass slotting marked with a G.

Another advantage to being a scientist's kid. The Graysheets needed to study Einstein's Theory of Relativity (about one thousand times—in a row). Dad happened to have that file languishing under a layer of beggar's dust.

“That seems too easy,” John said, palming his chin.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“That's okay, some chaotic shit will spring up and take out our gonads, guys. It's inevitable.”

“So cheery, Mark,” Archer said dryly.

Jonesy scowled at him. “You haven't been part of the group long enough to know how things go, Archer.”

“I'm getting that.”

Alex clapped Archer on the back and he took two involuntary steps forward. “There's time.”

The group smiled as we left the facility, glad we'd been stealthy and not brought the chicks.

I took a last look over my shoulder, noting the building was a big square block of reflective glass, no sign, incognito.

No one would know it housed government secrets and that a bunch of teens were trying to save them from themselves. From their experiments based on greed and exploit.

The Graysheets were consistent as hell.

But then, so were we.

Jade set the pulse-pad on her knees, the group loaded up behind her. John held up the stolen file and gave it to her. Jade inserted it into the integrated pulse reader and it requested a pass code.

John whistled. “Dammit, it's thought-driven. I was afraid of this. We'll never crack this nut.”

Alex laughed.

John gave him a long-suffering glare. Properly chastised, he sobered up in hurry.

Jade frowned, thinking. “Maybe one of you guys could work your magic on it and it'll open?” she quizzed the group.

John grinned. “Nice Jade.” He swung his gaze to Archer.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze, looking at Lewis. “Think you could give it a shot?”

Archer nodded. “I haven't tried to crack a government super-secret file through a pulse thread but I can give it a try.” He winked.

Tiff popped a bubble. “Stop yammering and nail that turkey so we can save the world and all that happy crap.”

Bry gave his sister the Sibling Stare. “What?” she asked, all innocent, snapping her bubble about fifty times like firecrackers.

Sophie winced. “Can ya not... with the damn gum.”

Tiff appeared to think about it for a sec. “No.”

Sophie threw up her hands. “God, whatever!”

Tiff smiled. “Calms my nerves, animal lover.”

Sophie's eyes narrowed on Tiff. “I dig animal print clothes, that doesn't mean I'm like the PETA wackos.”

I was silently happier than hell Mom wasn't around to hear the slam against PETA.

“Aren't those the yahoos that capture boats and shit?” Jonesy asked.

“Nah, that's dumbass Greenpeace,” Tiff said, popping another bubble.

Jonesy nodded, satisfied they'd quantified the protestor categories.

“Okay, this is so amusing but—” Archer pointed at Jade's pulse-pad.

Right, back to The Plan. “I say go for it, and we'll exhaust other crap if this doesn't work.”

“Wouldn't the Graysheets have contingency up the ass for a hack as simple as a Lock Manipulator getting his groove on with their top secret shit?” Alex asked reasonably.

Maybe. I gave a nod to Archer. “Do your mojo. Let's not borrow the stress.”

“Gramps?” Jonesy asked.

“Yeah, he says, ʻdon't borrow the worryʼ.”

“Whatever.” Tiff moved her hand in the classic get a move on motion.

Archer touched the screen on the pulse-pad and the password inquiry flickered. He looked at me and the Js, shaking his head slightly.

“Crap!” Jonesy said, flinging his arms up and lacing his hands together as he brought them to rest on the crown of his head. He began pacing, his folded arms standing out from his head like wings. “This isn't gonna work! Why would tard Parker give us access to a file that we couldn't open?”

I thought about it. The skills they possessed should be enough to work through it... maybe... I was on the epiphany of resolution when John snapped his fingers.

Our gazes moved to an agitated Jonesy. He stopped pacing, his arms dropping to his sides loosely. “What is it, braniacs?”

“I think, since pulse tech is electronic in its basest level, that foundation should give you the control to manipulate that file wide open. And with that, Archer can assert his skill. Together, you can unlock it.”

“What?” Jonesy barked, his eyes on John.

John opened his mouth, and I put a hand on his chest. “I got this, Terran.”

His mouth snapped closed and I said. “We need you to kinda fry the pulse file to break its signal so Archer can go in there and unlock it.”

Jonesy dropped his hands off is head. “Well hell! Why didn't ya say so? Doofuses!”

“They did, ya dumbass,” Tiff said, spitting her gum into the separator.

“Guys!” Jade waved her palm at the pulse-pad.

Jonesy glowered at the group, striding over to the pad and he reached out to touch it as Archer jogged over to intercept. Their fingers collided as they touched the pad.

A bright light burst from the pulse-pad and Jade just about dumped the thing on the floor, but managed to keep it still.

John and the others rushed over to where they stood looking down at the pulse-pad.

The screen lit up, the traditional luminescent green characters coming together to read:

Welcome back, Zondorae Brothers

John smiled in triumph and pressed his thumb to the pad of Jade's pulse-reader. He stood silently, assimilating the information.

We shifted our weight; wiggling, scratching, mumbling. Finally, after five minutes of silence, John slowly removed his thumb.

He looked as grave as I'd ever seen him.

Tiff, usually the most obnoxious of the group, put her hand on his arm almost tenderly. “What is it, John?” She looked up at him, her hazel eyes dark with worry.

“I don't think it's just the dome world that's in trouble,” he stated flatly.

Jonesy pegged his hand on his hips. “Come on, Terran, spill it.”

“It's our world too. The dome world is nothing but a big experiment. They were playing God with them.” John turned to me. “Your dad may have mapped the human genome, but these guys that ʻfoundʼ the markers?” He waited on our expressions.

All of us nodded.

“They found the markers, then used the genetic code from another people to splice onto said discovered paranormal markers.”

“So?” Jonesy shrugged.

John sighed and Archer kicked in, “What he's saying is, that the dome people... that we're sorta...”

“Related,” Alex said, perv issues aside, he wasn't a dull tool in the drawer.

“Wait. When did all this happen?” Randi asked.

“That's a great question. Looks like the Graysheets have been playing with transference and spacial issues for a long time. When they discovered this other world had been decimated by natural disaster, but the people that survived it—they appeared—resilient in a way that would not have been possible here. Evolutionary challenge.” John shrugged, his emphasis on the last two words obvious.

“So the dudes with the gills?” Sophie asked.

John nodded. “Them or someone like them. Whatever it was, it got them thinking that the genetic diversity within that gene pool would be a fine mix with the discovered markers.”

Tiff studied John's face. “Wait a sec, that's not all, right?”

John's face kinda fell. “No,” he said quietly. “It appears they've manipulated their history as well. The Zondoraes wanted to acquire a fresher source so they used this Transference passage they named the Pathway. They manipulated it for both distance and time.”

“Holy shit!” Bry said, slapping his forehead. “So these douches went back in time, screwed around with shit they shouldn't have, to what?” He looked at everyone, realization dawning. “So they could ʻgrow peopleʼ for future advancement in our world? Now—that's utter bullshit.”

“I call it, bro,” Tiff said and they did a high five to clench the point.

I shook my head at the Weller pair.

John nodded. “Pretty much. And,” he raised his finger, “they used electromagnetic pulse technology to construct the domes. It's really brilliant actually...”

We rolled our eyes as John went into a lengthy discussion about the implementation of the most modern and environmentally intelligent choices for the dome people's daily living, steam-powered everything.

“You mean, they live in this sauna of a dome and don't have lights and showers and crap?” Tiff asked.

John laughed, shaking his head. “No, I think they intended for them to live without interference for an indefinite time frame, then there would be degradation of the dome from some unknown cause, and the people of the domes would be gradually integrated into the outside. Able to live in an environment which had recovered from whatever tragedy occurred years ago.”

“Wait a sec,” I began slowly, “there's some stuff that doesn't make sense.” All eyes fell on me. Jade stood, molding her body to mine. “Who caused the problem with the dome?” I remembered the holes all over the walls. “Why would the Zondorae brothers care so much to construct all of these dome-things, then let them get ruined?”

John said, “Actually, they're spheres. They're partially buried underneath the earth's surface. Thermal nuclear energy helps with stabilizing the temperature, the operational systems, pulse—all of it. Once they got what they needed, they were just going to wash their hands of it.”

The group looked at John.

He sighed. “I guess it doesn't make much difference if it's a dome or a sphere to you guys?”

We all shook our heads.

“Anyway,” John huffed, sort of irritated his friends weren't interested in the finer details of dome/sphere construction, “remember the badasses we trounced when we were there on our informative visit?”

We nodded.

“Dead or alive?” Tiff laughed.

John smiled grimly at her joke. “Both. They're criminals from our world. These idiots left salt quartz. It directly breaks the pulse rhythm that allows the sphere to rejuvenate itself.”

“It does?” Sophie asked.

John nodded. “Yes, it's so fascinating! You see...”

I raised my hand, staving off a tech rant. “John, come on, stop with the shiny thing and get to the point.”

He was like a dog with a ball thrown.

John grinned. “Alright. Anyways, it's on a monthly cycle in which the pulse-signal ʻrebootsʼ. When this happens, the interior environment is cleansed, the older air released to the outside, and new air drawn and filtered for the interior. It also strengthens the walls by drawing on the electromagnetic fields of the earth through the pulse system interlay that is integrated within the structure itself.” John looked at each of us expectantly. Seeing some confusion but mostly understanding he went on, “What it means is that somehow, the criminals we ran into, must've gotten a hold of these salt crystals, used them as pseudo weapons to damage the sphere and the hapless residents are sitting ducks for this criminal contingent to come in and take over.”

I palmed my chin, thinking about all the sleazebag variables. Finally I said, “We're gonna have to stop this. Shut down this Pathway thing, make it so they can't return.”

“That's naïve, Caleb,” Archer said.

I frowned at his words.

Archer expounded, “They'll just send some other scientists to do another dirty job.”

I shook my head. “No. We need to destroy their access, fix the dome,” he glanced at John, “sphere... and put the Graysheet dudes on notice.”

Alex and Bry laughed. “You and what army?” Bry asked, his muscular arms folded over his chest.

My eyes narrowed. “This is where the sissy-sucking-titty-babies get off the train, guys.” I let my eyes sweep the group, challenging all that were there. “Parker has been a problem—an enigma,” I said, pulling out the terminology.

Jonesy chortled, and I silenced him with a stare. “But this time, maybe we can do something for the good of both worlds. We weren't meant to skip all this evolution, right John?”

His expression turned doubtful. “No. They've used an environmental challenge from a world that's not ours, applied it to a legitimate genetic discovery, and made a new species of people with that stolen genetic code.”

“Who?” Randi asked.

“Us,” Alex answered, pulling her inside the cradle of his huge body.

My friends fell into an uneasy silence.

John's final comment made the decision an easy one for me. “And the girl,” John began.

I instantly intuited which one he meant. “The redhead?”

John gave me a sharp glance and nodded. “She's the key to all this. The Queen is center stage in their plans.”

“What do you mean, John?” Jade asked, a furrow appearing between her brows.

“She was the one they got the genetic material from. She has the properties of both indigenous peoples there,” John responded.

“So what is she?”

Bry frowned at Tiff.

“I mean,” she began again, giving him the piss off look, “I know she's the ʻQueen of Ohioʼ,” Tiff scrunched her nose. “But besides that handy little detail—so what?”

“She's their genetic messiah,” John answered.

The group waited.

“They call her the Key,” John elaborated.

“The key to what, dude?” Jonesy asked.

John shrugged like it should be obvious. “Control.”

CHAPTER TEN

Clara's world

The return of the youngest Travelers

The very sphere Clara had sought in her time of need had ultimately betrayed her with a creature more insidious than Prince Frederic. Aye, more mad but more cleverer as well.

Clara frowned, looking over her shoulder at the additional Band. How would a mere dozen of the Band neutralize the threat of the dredges of Kentucky? Had King Otto lost total control? Did Caesar rule even now?

Bracus, Philip, Edwin and Matthew used the key that Clara always carried to unlock the portal.

It did not move.

Matthew turned to Clara, seeing the worry etched upon her features, knowing full well what had put it there.

Her concerns were his.

“It does not move, Clara. Perhaps another key?” he asked, looking at the key in his huge hand, polished brass and large.

She knew it was the very key for the portal, having procured its fashioning after the last siege. Clara came to his side, studying the key that lay there. “Nay, this is the one, I am certain.”

Matthew and Bracus looked at one another. “They have damaged the locks? Mayhap barring our entrance, anticipating our return?” Bracus speculated.

“Nay, it makes no sense. That weasel of a royal has his sights set on Clara,” Matthew glowered at his own words. “Yet, he bars our eventual entrance?” He shook his head, negating the possibility of such.

“It be something else,” Edwin said. “Someone else.”

In that moment, a coincidence of magnitude occurred:

Winking into their space in a flash of iridescent light that was at once blinding as it was beautiful, like a bubble set in the sun with water upon it, the Travelers burst into existence.

Color washed over the Outside, sealing the grave markers in a multitude of pale colors that rippled and swarmed, causing their milky whiteness to glow in phosphorescence for a moment, then vanishing.

Matthew and the rest of the Band moved the women behind them. Rowenna shoved past Bracus and stood at his side.

He frowned down at her.

“Wipe that look from your face, Dear Heart,” she said mildly.

Bracus sighed, stubborn woman.

As Clara gazed upon the young Travelers she felt a hope spark in her heart. Perhaps these young ones could aid them if there be any wish of resolution.

She made a move to go forward to meet the young man who controlled the foulness that was death, but Matthew put his hand around her arm in wariness. “Caution be the order of the day, Clara.”

“Aye,” she responded even as she walked the three horse lengths to where the young man stood, her mind on her people.

On hope.

I looked at Randi and she nodded her head. “We don't have to touch but it makes it easier on the send off.”

“Ya make it sound like it's some kind of rocket ship!” Tiff said, smacking her gum.

Bry rolled his eyes. “Get rid of the GD gum—now!”

“Yeah, Tiff, what if it gets in your hair,” Sophie said without guile.

Maybe.

They narrowed their eyes at each other.

“Come on, Randi, shoot the juice before we have a bitch-slap-fest,” Jonesy said.

All female eyes fell on his dumb ass like a lead weight. He shrugged, not in the least concerned that he'd pissed off the girls.

I suppressed a smile with supreme effort.

Jade wasn't entirely stoked that I found Jonesy even remotely funny.

Randi huffed. “Okay... right.” She looked at the anxious eyes, interpreting Jonesy's comments for what they really were. Blowing off anxiety like wayward steam.

It was a big deal. Traveling between worlds, saving another.

Attempting to.

John and I nodded at Randi. We squeezed our linked hands together and with a surge of heat and light, zapped into the frozen darkness that marked our transport.

Our entry into the sphere world.

I saw the young woman with the red hair. The Queen, I reminded myself. I approached her cautiously, my eyes flicking to the huge dude behind her.

His eyes were steady on my approaching figure.

There was no way I was messing with this chick when who stood behind her was a guy that was six foot seven and two hundred forty plus.

As I drew nearer to Queen Clara, I studied his outfit. Intimidating-much. He had so many weapons hanging off him I could hardly see his clothes. My eyes went back to the Queen.

She stood waiting for me as I came to stand in front of her. After a moment of mutual study she smiled and it was breathtaking, the abuse of her face, the blood and sweat covering her from head to toe, somehow didn't steal her regal look.

I could totally see her royalty, it didn't matter what she wore. She held herself with grace and purpose. Queen Clara narrowed that focus on me, asking softly, “What say you?”

I blinked stupidly. What? I turned to John.

“What's she asking, John?”

John shrugged. “I don't know. But, it sounds like some kind of late, 19^th century diction. Not exactly, but around there.”

Everyone was dressed weird... old-fashioned.

“Hi, ah—we're here to help fix your dome.” I pointed to the sphere wall and corrected myself, “I mean, your sphere.”

Daniel came to stand beside Clara. “He speaks as a fragment somewhat however,” Clara shrugged helplessly, “I cannot make sense of most of his speech.”

“These guys don't get what we're saying, dude,” Jonesy said, restating the obvious.

“Ya think?” Tiff gave a hard eye roll.

Clara gave Tiff a steady look and she blushed, the color washing up to her face in a dull brick color.

Sophie grinned. No one ever saw Tiff embarrassed, priceless.

Daniel smiled at Clara as Matthew approached the group, the boys shifting nervously as he got closer, his sheer physical size was pretty alarming up close.

“Yʼknow, Caleb,” Jonesy began nervously, “I'm thinkinʼ you better get elaborating. Speedy-like, before they punt our asses.”

The Band, all of them began spreading out and encircling us.

Daniel watched the young Travelers with some amusement, little more than children. “Let me assist in this Clara.”

Daniel faced the one that was the puppeteer for the dead, his dark hair and eyes sitting in a face of keen intelligence. Daniel's eyes swept the young man's body, he was well-knit, not soft.

Perhaps he had known battle? He had that hard edge.

“I am Daniel. Why are you here this day?”

“Hi, I'm Caleb Hart. We've come to repair the damage to the sphere.”

Daniel's brows knit together.

He turned to Clara, and raised his voice for all the Band to hear, “This one says that he and his comrades shall arrest the progression of damage caused by the pellets of salt.”

The Band nodded but the one whose eyes never left me asked, “Aye... so easily? The Master over the Dead seeks to reverse damage to a most modern and complicated structure,” Matthew scoffed, “I presume not.”

“Okay, so I guess we need to convince these guys.” I turned to John. “Can't you like, run interference or some crap? We need to get this party started.”

“Well... I did take a medieval speech course last summer,” John said with hesitation. “But, it might be too ancient for the speech they use.”

“No shit Terran?” Bry said.

John sighed. “Yeah, could you keep the swearing to a minimum? I'm not sure what's offensive to these people.”

“Yeah moron, do an Ali, Nazi-out on their asses.”

The Band frowned and moved closer to Jonesy. “Kidding... kidding, big Dudes.” He raised his palms in supplication and laughed nervously, gulping.

“Jonesy, shut up,” Randi said, the men of the Band looking at her with curiosity. She, Sophie and Jonesy were getting the most scrutiny.

“What do they say, Daniel?” another male of the Band asked.

“I am not entirely certain, I think they're bickering amongst themselves.” Daniel shrugged.

“They be infantile then?” one of the males asked without rancor.

A tall male with hair the same color as the Queen nodded, maybe around our age, and a younger girl with blonde hair said, “Are they nary our years?”

“It appears as such, yet they act as if they are but ten years.”

“Hey!” Jonesy said, forgetting his promise to shut his trap. “I think I'm getting that!”

“They're saying we're babies or something,” Tiff said, insulted.

John lifted his palm. “Shut up, all of you.” He turned to Queen Clara, taking a deep breath. He let it out slowly then began, thinking that his medieval speech course was probably too ancient for their speech. He went for it anyway. “We come in peace this day. To offer a solution that may rectify the degradation of your sphere, restore it wholly and halt the further progression of the salt compromise.”

He looked expectantly at the Queen of Ohio and she turned that radiant smile on him, the strobe of it hitting John between the eyes. He thought he might be in love.

That was until Tiff snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Shake it off, Terran.”

I smirked as John fell under the charisma that was the Queen while Matthew frowned. John flicked his eyes to the huge man, weapons hanging off him head to toe.

Clara answered, “That would be most helpful, Traveler.” Then she hesitated for a second, “There be another pair of Travelers who... took a piece of my flesh, we do not know why.”

Sophie gasped, forgetting caution and rushed to Clara. She grabbed the forearm that Clara had offered for perusal and turned it over, a star-shaped scar lay there and Sophie ran a finger over it. She slowly looked at Clara, who openly stared at Sophie's unusual coloring and manner.

“What is it Soph?” Jonesy asked.

“She has the same scar that creeper did!”

“Which creeper?” I asked. Hell there were too many for me to keep track of.

“The AP attacker.”

Of course.

“That would mean he was from here,” John said slowly, thinking about everything that tied that together.

“Yeah, he was a helluva lot more than AP.”

John turned to Clara, her arm still within the hold of Sophie's hand, the polished ivory of it directly contrasting with the light coffee of Sophie's skin. “What do you name the group who wander about?” John asked, throwing his palm out to encompass the greater Outside.

“The fragment,” one answered in a flat voice, a warrior woman stood beside him, leaning against another for support.

John got excited, punching his fist into his open palm and the Band tensed. He tried to rein it in with effort. “Okay, so these fragment guys, some are criminals from our world. What's to say when the Graysheets need a disposable assassin they don't just use one of the fragment? They bite the big one in our world, then they remain unidentified forever?” He threw his hands up like duh.

The beat up warrior princess that stood next to a dude with old-fashioned mail on—she had gills too, flaring slightly as she breathed.

Surreal.

Sophie dropped Clara's arm and smiled at her.

“John, tell her what the plan is,” I said.

John stretched his lips away from his teeth in the parody of a grimace.

I narrowed my eyes on my best friend. “You do have a plan, wise ass?”

John's face got tight. “It's more of a theory.”

“Well get hot, the natives are restless,” I said, using another Gramps-ism.

“Right.” John turned to Jonesy. “You ready?”

“Hell yeah, born ready, Terran! Bring it!” Jonesy extolled, his dark face lighting up with typical enthusiasm.

“Wait!” Clara called out in a ringing command.

John pivoted to face her and she phrased the next question carefully, years of royal diplomacy coming to her aid, “Be most careful, young Traveler. For it is the only home my people have ever known.”

John swallowed.

Damn, no pressure.

John paled slightly. “Come on Jones.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, cocking his hand in a mock-salute.

The Js and I walked a short ways along the perimeter of the sphere, noting the door Archer had unlocked and Alex had opened.

“Wow, look at the degradation just since we've been here last,” John said, pushing against the sphere side, his handprint as he pulled away filling in again but more slowly than before.

“How long would it have been before it was?”— Alex asked, walking up behind us, keeping one eye on the dudes with gills.

—“Gone?” John filled in.

When Alex nodded John answered, “Maybe a month. That's how long a pulse-cycle would've taken, so I'm guessing that.”

“Is it beyond repair?” I asked, eying up the one meter diameter holes peppering the surface.

John shrugged. “All we can do is attempt a fix.”

“Alex?” John called.

“Yes?”

“You have the salt?”

He nodded, extracting a bag made of leather from his inside jacket pocket. None of us had known what would make the trip. The last time, the chick's jewelry had all been lost.

I hadn't wanted to dwell too much on where the stuff had gone off to. Troubling thought process, that.

Alex reached inside the bag and everything suddenly happened at once.

Clara screamed in a startled voice, “Matthew, they possess salt!”

And then the big dude with eyes so blue they didn't look real had his hand wrapped on Alex's wrist.

I could feel the contained violence, the very air trembled with it. Jade grabbed onto the back of my hoodie, feeling the tension in the atmosphere, her Empath skills triggered and on full alert.

Matthew's face showed instant surprise, as did Alex's. He tried to wrench his arm free.

Matthew grunted in restraint.

“Holy shit, they're as strong as Alex!” Jonesy's wild eyes latched onto the tug of war pair..

Totally not the larger point. Like, hoping we didn't get our asses kicked would be the primary objective.

Matthew turned to the others of the Band. “He is Band.”

Alex let his hand drop, “What?”

Daniel's eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You feel kinship recognition?”

“Aye,” Matthew nodded, studying Alex. Finally, after much scrutiny he grinned. The expression was so shocking on his stern face the group all responded with instant smiles.

“What's Band?” Alex asked.

“They are the enforcers,” Daniel replied in explanation.

“Of what?” Jade asked as she walked from behind me until she could see Alex and the huge dude of the Band, Matthew.

Daniel gave her a curious look. “The protection of females and everything else.”

“Why the girls?” Sophie asked.

John tried to control his impatience. I was sure he wanted to get the sphere nailed then be on our way. Each moment we spent here supposedly made it worse for the people here. That was the Theory of John anyway.

Daniel continued, “There are very few.”

John got curious despite his rush. “What is the ratio?”

Daniel frowned.

John's face closed down, clearly thinking of a way to rephrase the question. “What be the count of males as compared to those of females?”

Daniel had been raised fragment and they dealt very much in numbers. Thievery and trading wares made their prowess for math legendary. Daniel fashioned his answer so his group would also understand, “There be fifteen males for every one who is female.”

The girls sucked in their collective breath.

I frowned. No wonder it was so screwed up here.

John explained, “We must use the salt which began the ruination of your sphere then seek to combine it with the advances of my world in order to halt its destruction.”

“I do apologize.” Clara understood, her long eyelashes fanned against her cheek. “However, I surmised you may be...”

John held up his palm. “It is fine. I do understand the trepidation over the same ingredient being used for repair that was the cause of the sphere's demise to begin with.”

“You go, Terran!” Jonesy fist-pumped.

John blushed a fine, clear red.

“Can it, dumbass,” Tiff said. “He's gettinʼ his mojo on.” She grinned at John, and he gave a small smile back, pleased.

Clara nodded as the Band studied Alex, who returned their stares with equal regard.

John grabbed the salt, and sprinkled a large portion over roughly a half meter area.

Jonesy stepped forward, and at John's signal Jonesy put his palm on the patch of salt that lay hissing where it made contact with the sphere wall.

John warned, “Don't be stupid, Jonesy. This matters.”

“Yeah, yeah, Terran, keep your boxers on. I got this.”

And with that, Jonesy laid his palm on the sizzling area. Instantly the spot began to glow and Jonesy straightened where he stood, his face going from his typical nonchalant expression to an uncharacteristic intensity.

The Band clustered around, watching the boy with skin so brown it was almost black, prove out a different kind of magic entirely.

Clara watched as light like the bolts of lightning she remembered watching as a child from the safety of her chamber, wound their way like wily snakes, branching away from his dark hand. They formed a grid-like pattern that carried them like tendrils of perfect, symmetric brilliance to the offending holes, filling them as though water poured in a cup. They throbbed and contracted, the light continuously pouring into the holes. Once dim, they now became solidly opaque, gradually deepening.

After minutes that became long enough so twilight stole around them, Jonesy lifted his hand off the sphere wall.

He turned to Clara and smiled.

She gasped at how white his teeth were in the impending gloom. The contrast was startling.

“You can tell me,” Jonesy said, hand to his chest, ready to bow.

Tiff rolled her eyes but I said it, he'd done okay. “You're the greatest, Jones.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Jonesy said with snark, but his face was tired, and he looked strained, wrung out.

It's not every day that you light up a whole world.

The sphere was lit with a soft glow, whole again. The scars from the salt punishment were pinkish, but already moving toward the original milky incandescence of the sections that weren't compromised.

My friends were all grinning at the remarkable structure. Us for different reasons than the people of Clara's world.

Jonesy eyes were glued on the rapidly repairing sphere. “It can't be all bad... our abilities.”

I thought about his words. “Yeah, but the reason behind them sucked.”

John nodded.

Clara said, “We find we cannot enter the sphere, the door is...” she trailed off.

Lewis Archer smiled. He'd done his Lock Manipulator job a little too well. He put his hand on his chest, puffing up and replied, “Allow me.”

He gracefully strode to the huge portal while the whole group murmured among themselves.

Archer jumped, slapping the locks on the top. Then repeated the movement, swinging low to nail the dual locks at the bottom. The locks tumbled together with a clank, snapping to the unlocked position.

One of the sphere guys spoke for the first time. “Do they all possess magic?”

“I don't!” Bry said, raising his hand.

The Band swung their heads to look at him.

He dropped his hand.

The Band strode to the massive doors and with one Band member on each side they heaved it to the right, rolling it smoothly on its internal runners.

The solid metal doors slid open and the light of the sphere tunnel poured into the Outside, illuminating the murkiness of where we all stood, the grave markers standing like stout guideposts of death in the background.

“Shit!” Archer yelled.

Hearing his alarm, the Band readied their weapons. The Js and I ran up behind him as the Zondorae brothers fell out of the Pathway with a practiced drop and hop. I glanced to make sure Jade was near me then looked back at the scene inside the sphere.

What really got me excited were the black tranquilizer guns that stood at attention in their hands.

Pulse-activated, of course.

Looked like crap was gonna go down.

Typical.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Jonesy!” I hollered when I saw one of the Zondorae brothers raise his gun at the guy that was with Clara.

“It's pulse, Jones!” John bellowed into the suddenly still air.

Jonesy turned his head and in a moment of instinctive brilliance, he touched the sphere, his fingertips biting into the wall.

A surge of light bloomed underneath his palm. The illumination hopped to the floor, running underneath their collective feet where it threaded up to where Joe Zondorae held the gun. The weapon jammed, and he released it, where it landed on the ground, zapping and smoldering with the electromagnetic surge executed by the Jonester.

“Hell!” he yelled, looking at his brother for assistance.

Gary Zondorae didn't hesitate, walking toward whoever was closest with a chilling nonchalance, his stride eating the distance.

Nailing everyone within two meters; he made the tranquilizer gun work for him. The darts were small, filling the weapon like a standard nine millimeter. I thought he might be just animal enough to have a round loaded in the chamber.

Though the guns resembled metal, they weren't and would fire just fine, their organic components having survived the Pathway. These Graysheet minions would have everything they needed to make their time here work to their advantage. The Zondorae brother leveled his gun at the huge males of the Band and chambered another clip.

I paused, rage surging through me as I saw a grin replace his blank expression.

I'd wipe that smile off soon enough.

The Queen

Clara's shoulders slumped in defeat, the Traveler's guns were trained on them again, three of their darts buried into the boy with skin the color of night, his collapsed form was on the ground of the tunnel as the mob approached them.

There were hundreds.

The Band readied for war, the entirety of the Kingdom of Kentucky pouring from the heart of Clara's kingdom toward them, their dirty and starving faces telling her what her end would be.

Most were men, the criminal element loosed upon her sphere, having looted, pillaged and Guardian knew what else, Clara thought on a mournful note. Regret took up residence in her heart as she met Matthew's eyes.

How would they ever survive this? There were not enough Band to defend, the situation appeared far worse than even her wildest speculations.

Clara noted that Daniel and Edwin wore the darts as well, their manner no longer fully alert.

The poisonous sleep worked on them as she watched.

They would be cut down unprotected, the twilight drug working its black magic against them.

Their bodies would succumb even when their minds did not.

“Caleb,” Jade whispered.

I looked into her worried eyes, her love and trust shining out of them like a spear of hope. Piercing my heart.

My soul.

I squeezed my eyes closed as the mob came, my jaw clenching with the realization of what I'd have to do.

What I'd always known there was potential for.

I looked at the filthy criminals who moved toward us; forty meters out, closing in fast. My gaze swept over the huge guys. The Band. Then finally, my attention lingered on my friends.

Jonesy was unconscious from whatever crap had been in their guns. I took note of the Zondorae brothers wearing satisfied smirks. They wanted these people to suffer, to be unassisted.

Well tough shit.

Jade had been touching my arm, getting an emotional radio signal of the feelings that were screaming through my psyche, vibrating like a tuning fork before finding its errand.

In this case, the dead.

Jade looked up at me, permission standing in her eyes. “Do it,” she finished her thought.

John's eyes widened when he saw where I looked.

The graveyard lay like a sleeping army outside the sphere.

Waiting.

The Queen

“Clara,” Sarah wailed, tears running down her face. Her voice, her manner, told Clara the same thing she had been ruminating on but a moment before.

What could they be about before this insurmountable violence?

“We will prevail,” Clara said even as she mourned her survival and that of the people that were near her. She had utterly forgotten the Travelers behind her.

The Band had not, standing in the center of the sphere tunnel, grouped in pairs with half facing the screaming group of degenerates who had overtaken Clara's peaceful sphere. The other half faced the two from another world.

It was Matthew that caught the look between the two young Travelers, the dark one who controlled the dead and the one with hair more fiery than Clara's. It took him a heartbeat's pause to ascertain the direction of their thoughts.

It was even more rapid for Clara, who screamed in ringing terror, “No!”

Even as the young Traveler's face straightened into a mask of concentration, the air was instantly heavy with his will, his intent.

Death sang around who were present.

The dead would weep no more but rise again. No matter who they were, what they had been, they would rise and do the bidding of the young Traveler.

Clara felt it and was afraid. For Caleb Hart did not know who would answer his call.

Clara did. Fear gripped her with icy talons, sinking into the meat of what made Clara brave, her fortitude shaking like a home without a foundation.

Matthew saw her reaction and understood what she feared. He was too late to stop it, too late to temper Caleb the Traveler. Only raise some, he thought too late.

Not all.

I didn't know who I'd raised, I was just hoping it was enough. The first two of the dead who came forward looked like they may have been people of importance before they died.

I gave a mental shrug. Not that it mattered who they'd been as I saw the crowns that crested their heads, their eyes not quite alive in faces with skin gone gray, the flesh pulled taut.

Huh, I raised them kinda fast, they were lookinʼ a little corpsey. I gave a little smile as Tiff walked up beside me.

“Kinda a rush job, Caleb,” she said, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” I looked down at her. “I was sorta in a hurry so lay off.”

“Right,” Tiff said, looking at the royal pair of corpses. The man was tall, the vestiges of what had been blond hair clinging to a scalp that showed through in patches, dirt from the grave sticking in brownish clumps. But it was the woman, her black eyes soulless, her hands in tight fists of anger that got our full attention.

Her hair was perfect, her mouth... not so much. Damn.

“I don't have a good feeling about these two,” Tiff commented, a thread of uncertainty weaving through the usually rock-hard confidence of her voice.

“You're not losinʼ your nerve, are ya?” My eyes never wavered from the royal zombies.

Tiff shook her head but her eyes were trained on the woman.

“Don't worry about it. The dead are dead, right?” I said, winking.

Or so I'd thought.

The Dead Queen

Clara ran to me. I glanced down at her with a question in my eyes. Releasing Tiff's hand I grasped hers, they were cold—like ice. She opened her mouth as if to warn me.

Clara wished to tell the young Traveler that Queen Ada was not normal in life. She was evil. She was—her fear transferred to him like an unwanted gift.

Then Clara's false mother opened her mouth, removing all the doubt for everyone.

Queen Ada surveyed the sphere tunnel with profound pleasure. It was so reasonable to her that she would be back to her rightful position within her kingdom. She felt a righteous joy at the thought. Until she caught sight of the miserable excuse for a daughter—dressed in breeches, her hair in disarray, no crown—an embarrassment as usual.

That is easily remedied, Ada mused. Clara had always been hard-headed. Ada would be pleased to institute her special brand of discipline once again. She moved toward Clara then paused, a feeling of being tethered swirled around her uncomfortably, like a line from one of the pungys which dredged the oysters from the muck of the lake. Ada yanked against the unseen restraint and could not escape it. She searched the connection. Her gaze came to rest on a young man of mayhap ten and seven years who stood beside Clara.

Realization of what he was and what she had become dawned on Ada. She wished to break this untenable hold he had on her. Queen Ada opened her mouth and hissed at the boy.

The boy that commanded death.

And in so doing commanded her. Ada would not abide such a thing. She shambled forward rather gracefully, considering she was quite dead.

The dead Queen's rotting gaze fell on the woman warrior of the Band and as my zombie started to unravel before my eyes.

“Ah—Raymond's whore,” Ada ground out through lips that were a thin slash, the rot of her mouth garbling the insult.

“Caleb... you got this, right?” Tiff asked, decidedly nervous.

Bry came up to stand beside her.

“Who is this?” Bry asked, stabbing a finger in the direction of the grossest corpse he'd ever seen Caleb raise.

“Queen Ada,” Clara answered in a thready voice.

Gary's voice rose behind them, “So Hart?”

I swung my face away from the beauty queen, all in black, including her mouth. I smiled despite the mess the raising had become, I never could get the mouths right.

I met the scientist's gaze. “Did Parker tell you the finer points of control?”

I just stared at him. Well hell—let's just shoot the bull while the mob closes in. The prick.

“Not all zombies are alike my friend. If they were bonkers in real life, they're not malleable in death.” He shrugged. “Thought you'd like to know since this one's looking pretty independent.”

A full flesh crawl broiled over my skin, and my gaze swung back to the dead royal—only a couple of meters away now. I was silently grateful I'd done a rush-job raising or Queenie here would have already been on them.

John shouted at Clara, that medieval speech thing kinda working out, “Was the queen mad while alive?”

I watched Clara's gaze settle on Queen Ada.

She grinned back with a tongue gone gray, and patches of black like evil polka dots covering the surface.

Clara nodded to John as Matthew pulled her behind him protectively.

“Yes, quite,” Clara responded.

The dead royal just in front of her, his eyes glittering black holes without mercy, without reason. Tufts of blond hair were sticking straight up where it stubbornly remained on the flesh of his skull.

Those pitiless eyes bored into mine without connection but with plenty of resistance.

Effing spectacular, I couldn't raise a compliant corpse to save my life.

Jonesy roused himself, sitting up on his knees and jerked out the darts. His eyes took in the crowd of filthy people with weapons, the Band, his friends, the pair of scientists and finally his eyes settled on the royals.

“Hey Caleb.” He pointed to the zombie pair. “Is that your handiwork there?”

I nodded, stalling.

“They don't look right, bro.” Jonesy stared at the zombie royals.

No shit.

Queen Ada's advance was slow and steady. Purposeful.

“What can be done, Traveler?”

I turned and stared into the only pair of violet eyes I'd ever seen and said, “Going to control her. If that doesn't work, we're gonna have to burn her.”

Daniel translated, “Because of her madness while alive, she may be impossible to manipulate in her current state.”

The woman of the Band frowned. “How do we stop her?”

The huge male of the Band, the obvious leader, spoke for the first time, weapons laid bare in his hands; he had one eye on the crowd who inched closer, their stunned stupor breaking, “She is dead.”

I nodded. “Fire maybe. If she can't be controlled, it'll take fire.” Or maybe she needed to lose her head. I didn't know. It's not like I'd raised a bunch of crazy-ass zombies before. Maybe she needed some head-rolling action. Yeah, that'd be mighty permanent.

Beyond the royals crowded the rest of the dead through the portal, their eyes patiently trained on me.

Waiting.

I turned to the Queen, the dead one. “Restrain the men Gary and Joe Zondorae,” I commanded.

She flinched, trying to shake off my command even as I gave it and moved toward Clara again.

Okay.

I put intent and juice behind it, taking Tiff's hand in mine, smoothly siphoning off her AFTD. “Do as I command!” I yelled into the absorbent atmosphere of the sphere, my force of will thrown in her direction like a sucker punch.

She bowed over at the waist, hissing as if in pain. Straightening, she began to move toward Clara and the female warrior of the Band.

Jonesy said, “She's gonna need the torch, dude.”

Yeah, or something.

Then there was the Prince, my eyes shifting to him.

“What about him?” I said to the general crowd.

“He makes Ada look tame,” Daniel said.

Damn.

The female warrior of the Band with eyes like pale violet, stepped forward. Raising her dagger, she wielded it with graceful speed, smoothly moving beside the corpse of Queen Ada, taking off her arm in a sliding pull. The limb jerked out of the shoulder socket with a sickening pop that echoed in the stillness of the tunnel. The bystanders were silent, watching the dead fill the tight confines of the tunnel, the air burdened with the fragrance of their decomposition.

Several people started coughing with what I liked to think of as the pre-barf gag. Pretty soon it wouldn't be pre anymore. There'd be a lot of spewing chunks happening.

That'd keep ʼem busy.

The female warrior raised her blade again to take the next piece of the zombie queen off as I began to turn my attention to the sane zombies. That's when the zombie Prince casually backhanded her before her blade connected.

She flew backwards, knocking her head against the wall of the interior of the sphere and slid down, dazed.

The leader of the Band growled deep in his throat and rushed Prince Frederic, his powerful muscles bunching and contracting as he plowed toward his intended target.

Alex hollered a warning from a couple of meters away, “They're strong!”

The male of the Band never hesitated; charging, he lowered his head like a mighty bull and surged toward the Prince, lifting him bodily as he made contact.

The royal zombie grabbed the huge man and swung him around, releasing him as he used the momentum of the leader's assault against him.

The crown that'd been on the Prince's head went spinning off onto the dirt floor, rolling until it hit the feet of the zombie horde that had poured through the massive door.

The ginormous body of the leader of the Band was hurtled in the same direction where the female lay, equally stunned. The leader trained his eyes on the remainder of the Band.

Zombie Prince shifted his gaze to Queen Clara. Madness flowed in the depths of his eyes like pond scum. I watched him come, much faster than the Queen had, who was working her way toward Clara at this very moment, minus a limb. She was out-of-balance but tenacious as hell. Like all zombies.

They were a motivated group.

I heard Clara make a soft sound of terror seemingly igniting a match underneath the warrior who never left her side. As soon as he heard it he treated the zombie like three of the fragment instead of the one dead man it was, having seen the example of his Bandmate thrown like a toy. I watched him approach my out-of-control zombie with caution.

He moved in, his directive to protect the living queen in the face of anything never changing. Never faltering. I saw his determination in his expression like a promise. Against things which lived.

Or those that had died.

I had all I could do to contain the remaining dead. Taking the crazy zombies into account, I had to guess about who was bad, and who was good. I'd start with the science sib squad. Those two needed to be subdued.

Not a lot of deliberation needed for them.

Definitely in the bad tally side.

I flung that directive to a group of five corpses that had followed behind the royal wackos and they moved toward the Zondorae brothers like a wave of controlled menace, their smell preceding them.

I was used to it.

They weren't. The brothers began gagging even as they were pegging the zombies with their useless pulse guns, covering their mouths with the other hand.

Jonesy chortled. “Hey chumps, those aren't gonna work... just sayinʼ.”

I was too busy coordinating my directives to notice Jonesy's excellent command of sarcasm.

Although it was much appreciated.

The big guy, Matthew, started hacking away at the Prince. He was taking chunks out of the guy.

I was all for it, I couldn't control crazy, apparently. I didn't have the heart to tell him it wouldn't do much good. Princey would keep coming.

Zombie resilience.

Three of the Band came from behind to help, but the remaining dead were clumsy. They stumbled through the Band and the assembled crowd of losers from the other sphere and pushed people aside like bowling pins. After all, they were just following orders.

Subdue the crowd was about as simple a command as any I'd ever given. But they were not a thinking bunch, stumbling around on the way to their goal.

Single-minded dudes.

But their maneuvers had allowed a hole to open between where the corpses struggled into the three of the Band trying to aid Clara. Widening the space just enough for the dead Prince to latch onto Queen Clara.

Clara screamed as the dead hand of the Prince clamped onto her shoulder. I knew from experience his grip would be fierce and immobile. She swayed from the crushing pain of his hold.

I moved forward just as Matthew of the Band reached her.

I grabbed my zombie reflexively. “Release her!” I bellowed into its rotting face, the zombie inches taller than I.

The dead Prince paused and met my eyes, his obsidian stare absent of light. “No, Master.”

Then the longsword that was free of its binding took his head off at the base of the neck in a practiced swipe, so quickly executed, I felt the breeze at its passing.

Queen Clara was released from the vise grip of the dead Prince forever.

She did not know it, her consciousness slipping away even as Matthew bent to catch her against him, his long sword's tip stabbed into the earth of the tunnel. He looked ready for anything—no matter what.

No matter how many.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Band turned their attention to the angry mob that had filtered through the tunnel where they stood, all but Matthew.

He had eyes only for the dead Queen, minus an arm, ready to snatch the unconscious Clara out of his arms.

Jade rushed to his side. “I'll hold her while you...” she couldn't finish her thought. I knew Jade saw what Matthew's intent was. Death Intent. He wore his purpose like a coat of armor—he'd killed before. It was obvious now as he walked toward the dead Queen.

She knew it too, hissing at him as Matthew made his way to her. He never broke stride.

Jade met my stare. I could feel what she felt. Jade could feel the Evil. The Queen had been evil. Evil in life.

Evil in death.

Evil.

I let Matthew go about his business and turned my attention to the other big ass problem on the list. There were so many I was getting distracted. I found the Zondorae brothers easily. Mewling within the circle of the dead.

My dead.

I smiled and strode to where they were.

The Zondorae brothers were covered in their own puke. It probably almost masked the scent of the newly dead that surrounded them.

Mostly.

It was raw corpse or vomit, but the puke was closer to their noses.

“Hi guys!” I said almost cheerfully. My sympathy, zero.

They scowled. I watched their expressions ask if it could be any worse. Probably not. Although, they could be dead.

My dead.

I smiled and their expressions went from fear to anger. “Oh yeah, it's gonna get exciting for you chumps,” I said in a conversational tone, nodding.

The corpses tightened their hold, reacting to my state of mind like a ripple in the water going out, out... and endlessly on.

One gave a long lick of Gary's ear, the smell of the decaying tongue causing the scream he had held in check to escape his mouth in a wail that pierced the silence.

The raw sound served as the catalyst for the panic which began to sweep the tunnel.

I jumped when I saw the crowd swell and surge everywhere as my eyes sought Jade.

“You're safe,” I saw Jade say and relaxed only to tense again as the mob flowed toward us.

Jade and Queen Clara noticeed Matthew doing the hack-a-thon on the dead Queen, her rotting flesh flinging itself like gruesome and bloodless rain around us.

The dead did not bleed.

My heart clenched in my chest when the small Queen slid a dirk out of the strange boy's clothing she wore and headed toward the dead Queen.

I didn't have to be a brain surgeon to figure out her goal. She'd never meet it. The dead were stronger than the living. Wanting to end them wasn't enough.

I jogged to meet her, grabbing Jade as I did.

The dead Queen laughed out of a mouth with loosened teeth as Clara's protector took pieces of her flesh with his small knife.

She didn't feel pain, staggering toward Clara, ignoring Matthew's assault. Instead, she focused on Clara, hatred a mask on her face. Even in death, her expression was a window to who she'd been in life.

Queen Ada smiled with purpose, she knew Clara, reaching for her just as Matthew looked behind him, and saw the woman he protected approach the dead Queen who would not stop until she harmed Clara.

Note for future: insane zombies were intent on one thing.

Murder.

Why the dead Queen wanted to kill Queen Clara was a mystery, but I wasn't going to let the zombie I'd raised kill the ones that we'd come to save.

Matthew moved to swing and was caught in the mob as they pushed forward, the bellowing scream from the Zondorae retard igniting the flame of their panic instantly.

Matthew was shoved to the side with three of his Bandmates and swept aside as a river of people flowed between him and Clara.

The dead Queen wrapped her hand in the deep red of Clara's hair and torqued her head back, close enough to kiss.

“No!” Matthew bellowed in terror at the zombie's nearness and the strength for harm she possessed caused even the crowd to pause at the tone in his desperate alert.

“Hold them,” I told the zombies that had the Zondorae brothers prisoner. Their rotting arms were surer than the tightest bindings, as I made them babysit the asshats that started all this.

Queen Ada hissed in Clara's face, “I shall be Queen. Not your whore of a mother, or her simpleton spawn,” she ground out. A tooth dropping out of her mouth in a distracting way, rolling down the front of Clara's tunic to fall at their feet. My eyes followed that decaying tooth and I snapped my head up at attention.

Wow, family drama big time.

Two guys that were dressed like the mob but didn't look like the derelict spawn roaming around, approached the zombie Queen from behind. I opened my mouth to warn them but Clara took care of it by bringing up her arm in a twisting lunge and severed the one arm the dead queen had. The dead flesh gave way to the sharpness of the metal, the hand which gripped Clara's hair, shaken off and falling to the ground to join the tooth that lay there.

It would've been funny in different circumstances.

Dead parts scattered all around. It made no difference. The zombie Queen... kept coming anyway.

Ada lunged her head forward into Clara's. Clara stumbled back into the people behind her as the corpse that'd apparently been her mother rode her to the ground, her remaining teeth in full reveal.

Her mouth was open, poised to chew and maim.

Clara was her target.

But the little Queen used the crowd behind her like a trampoline and sprang forward, leaping onto the zombie, who toppled under her momentum. Ada lost her balance, without one arm and only the stump of the other, she was unable to right herself.

The dead Queen lurched her neck forward like a bird looking for a worm from its parent, trying to sink her teeth into Clara's hand that was near her face.

Clara slapped the Queen's face. Flesh flew away with a wet splatter on the dirt of the tunnel floor. My zombie sat up underneath Clara's straddle and went toward her neck to tear out the fragile artery that beat there.

I met Matthew as he pushed the crowd away and we reached for Clara at the same moment.

The huge male of the Band pulled out the biggest sword I'd ever seen in my life and I restrained my zombie while its teeth snapped above Clara's vulnerable neck. He swung the weapon smoothly, splitting the top of the zombie Queen's skull open like an egg balanced atop a pestle.

The brains slid out and littered the floor around us.

That kinda worked out.

I watched every zombie follow the distraction of the brains laying on the floor and rolled my eyes.

A little brains and they lose their attention span.

Need. More. Training.

“Oh shee-it!” Jonesy yelled, clearly seeing things getting way the hell outta hand.

John jogged over. “Okay, I'm thinking right now is a great time to close the Pathway!” He frantically searched the knot of tense zombies, the people from another sphere swarming around, and the dumbass scientists whose fault it was we were here in the first place.

Matthew scooped Clara up in his arms, a welt growing on her forehead like a purplish-red plum.

Matthew had saved Queen Clara. Now it was time for me and my friends to save the day. Our job wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

No problemo.

Jade looked up at me from the crook of my arm, her expression dubious.

Thanks for the faith, I thought, a little insulted. I guess it had gotten sorta sloppy around the edges. Maybe more than a little. I turned to Jonesy and said, “Time to cork the Pathway, pal.”

“Now we're talkinʼ!” Jonesy said, giving a fist-pump, staggering a little under the influence of residual sedative.

“Hey!” Gary Zondorae yelled.

I turned toward him, the people of the other sphere were running down the tunnel in the opposite direction. Many cast worried glances at the dead that tracked their movements with unnerving intensity.

“You disrupt that Pathway and we can't return. You can't return,” he said in his all-knowing voice.

“Nah, we got a one way ticket back to our world, dipshit,” Tiff said in her subtle way, smacking gum.

I shook my head. Tiff so nailed crap.

Randi walked up and the Zondorae brothers blanched. “You're the Dimensional, Merranda Chen.”

She nodded, raising her hand. “Yeah. Bad for you dudes, great for us.”

“You wouldn't leave us... we can't... be here. It would upset the order of things.”

I scowled, my anger instantly coming online. “You don't give two shits and a fuck about order. You were just fine playing God with this world until you were caught.” The brothers stared at me. So did the zombies.

But for different reasons, oh yeah.

John came to stand beside me, Matthew and Clara and the rest of the Band behind us. “You loosed the fragment on these people, many of which were from our world. I think they can absorb you two just fine. As a matter of fact, on the Outside, you'll fit right in.” John's Medieval rant had slipped under the weight of his righteous anger at the scientists.

“What says he?” Clara asked Daniel.

Daniel frowned. “They will leave the two Travelers here to their own devices in the Outside. Without their modern accouterments they will be as the fragment.”

Clara smiled. “It is a just end for such as them.”

“Aye,” the female that had been thrown by the dead Prince agreed, the leader of the Band's arm encircling her shoulders.

I met the eyes of the zombies that held the pair. “Take them outside, to where you lay at rest.”

The brothers fought and bucked, their arms punching flesh that didn't bruise or bleed—hurt.

My zombies tore them out into the cold of Outside, the bitterness of their choices stealing inside their consciousness with insidious progression. I watched it happen, pleased beyond what I should've been.

Their punishment felt right.

Joe Zondorae spoke frantically, rapidly, “You can't leave us, they'll kill Parker, they'll build another Pathway.”

I shifted cold hard eyes to Joe, nailing him with their singular intensity, leveled only at him. “Parker can take care of himself. These incursions will stop. And we're the future of the world. Not you—not the ones who started all this for control and power. Nothing good could've come of this.”

“That you don't see it is all the more reason for leaving you here,” John said.

“You're gettinʼ flushed like turds!” Jonesy said with glee.

Sophie gave a giggle and I looked at Jonesy. “Ya think you can rein it in long enough to disable the Pathway?”

Jonesy dipped his head sheepishly and walked over to the spot in the tunnel where the scientists had been spewed out. The invisible portal was practically above our heads.

“Hell yeah, Hart. Just give me the go, I'm your man.”

“Wait, young Traveler,” Clara said, her small hand inside Matthew's.

I turned.

“It is a Pathway of distance.”

I nodded, then said, “And time, Queen Clara.”

I let that sink in and her hand covered her mouth. “If it exists, they may tamper with our history, altering things while we remain unaware.”

I didn't get it totally but I didn't live through my mom's Nazi verbiage for nothing. I got what she was saying enough. Their shortcut would be gone, but so would the access route of others bent on exploitation. It was the only protection we could offer them.

“It is our recompense for the transgressions of the people of our world against yours,” John said, climbing on board the speech train again.

“Let them, Clara. For it is the only way to guarantee a future without Guardians... Travelers...” Daniel said, and Matthew finished for him, “Evil Ones.”

My eyes shifted to Matthew's. “Evil Ones?”

Matthew and the rest of the Band nodded gravely.

I agreed, liking that name the best. I turned my attention to Jonesy again. “Come on, Jones, let's bust this thing.”

Jonesy smiled and was met by Alex, who hefted him up on top of his shoulders. He looked down at John.

“It's Pulse, right?”

“Yes, you should be able to disable it by overloading its function on this end.”

“What about our end? What if other guys try to get through?” Bry asked.

Tiff shrugged. “I'm thinking I like the Jewelry Solution.”

Archer raised a brow.

She popped a bubble and made a fluttering motion with both her hands like dandelion seed floating away on the breeze. “It just went away when we traveled.”

We got quiet.

I palmed my chin even as the scientists were wailing in the graveyard outside. Decision made, I looked into Jonesy's eyes, determined. “Not our problem. Do it.”

Jonesy nodded and slammed a fist into the air.

The lights of the sphere tunnel sputtered. Then died. The blackness of the tunnel was absolute.

Chaos erupted and engulfed the people within.

****

Clara was scooped up by Matthew and carried to somewhere she could not see, the utter inky blackness unhindered by light pollution of any kind.

She heard a young female Traveler scream, “Jonesy!”

I shut my eyes, the dark a comfort, and called the dead to me.

Surround me.

They came, all but the ones who held the corrupters of others.

I wrapped my arms around Jade, folding her into the protection of my body, and the greater protection of the dead that surrounded me and my friends.

The Band felt and saw the dead encircle the boy, their senses acute enough to intuit the intentions of the damned.

The Band had not heard the command but had felt the summons of it.

Alex searched around in a blind panic for Randi. He heard her scream for Jonesy, who he held on his shoulders.

“Jones!” he growled out from underneath him.

“I know, muscle-head—calm your tits—I got this!”

“Get it faster!” Alex yelled, the thrum of his words vibrating into Jonesy's body.

The tunnel lights sputtered back to life, finally catching, the steam escaping in a burst of moist heat at the base.

Jonesy looked around, a circle of fifty zombies with their backs to Caleb and the gang standing sentinel around them.

John stood head and shoulders above everyone inside the circle. His eyes locked with Jonesy. “Did you do it?”

“Hell yeah, Terran. Did you think I was having a party up here on beefy boy or what?”

John sighed and Jonesy frowned as Alex set him down onto the ground none too gently.

Bracus came forward to engage the young Traveler and the zombiesʼ eyes glittered like dark crystals in faces that were slack with death.

Under orders of protection.

Bracus paused, remembering the strength of the dead Prince.

I watched him come and felt my intent slip into the zombies consciousness. They parted like water behind a dam, and Bracus strode into the midst of the dead. He had the biggest brass balls I'd ever seen.

I took an instant liking to the guy.

“We need to seal this sphere from its neighbor.”

Huh? “Why?”

Bracus explained. After ten minutes or so of listening I said, “Their sphere is going to continue to erode. We can't fix anything else. We have to return... to our world.”

Bracus frowned while Daniel translated.

Jonesy came forward, his clothes filthy and torn, a grin of pure accomplishment permanently etched there. “I can fix that up too.”

John cocked a brow. It wasn't often that Jonesy surprised Terran.

Or any of us.

Jonesy outlined the plan while the Band and Clara listened to John's translation, Daniel filling in where John's words were lost in the gaps of language and our accent.

The Band straightened as Clara, the other sphere-dwellers and us made our way to the mouth of the sphere, the sentry long-dead.

Clara's body clenched in a tight knot when she saw what had occurred in her sphere when it sat unprotected, assaulted by their ally.

She was livid, her body shaking with it.

Jade came forward. “I can help.”

“How?” Daniel asked the small girl with hair the color of raven's wings, eyes like the brightest leaves of a summer tree.

She told him.

Clara escorted Jade as she touched every dwelling while the zombies clogged the entrance to the sphere.

No one would dare exit through the wall of dead flesh, the smell of their decomposition filling the air like collective meat gone bad.

When each person who was not rightfully in the Kingdom of Ohio was identified, the Band escorted them to the zombie guard.

Many of whom had guarded this very sphere in life, I was told.

Some resisted, and were summarily dealt with. Their pleas for mercy went unheeded as the blood and destruction of their deeds lay claim to every surface of the sphere.

I watched as Queen Clara steeled her heart against their justifications.

They had killed her subjects. It made sense to me. I don't think I had as much trouble ignoring them as she did.

I knew that Queen Clara took responsibility for those that relied on her, it was obvious. She didn't need a crown on her head for me to see her royalty.

A new resolve took shape on her expressive face. She would protect them again, regardless what the price was.

I understood that sometimes, when it came to protection, the price could be steep.

The zombies dragged the people of the Kingdom of Kentucky behind them without expression, the heel of their shoes making grooves in the dirt as they flailed to escape. Without my contrary directive, my zombies would take no prisoners.

When the dead passed through the portal of the great door that led Outside and walked underneath the defunct Pathway, the Queen turned to me, her gaze briefly touching on the two Travelers who lay at the feet of my zombies Outside, their screams devolved into exhaustion.

“Let it be here,” she said.

Bracus came forward and asked, “The barrier, Queen Clara?”

She nodded, once.

Jonesy stepped forward and with a quick look at me said, “This experimental crap's getting old.”

“Stop complaining, ya whiner. You're the one that offered,” Tiff said, shrugging.

“In theory,” John began.

“Can it, Terran, ya chump.” Jonesy pushed his hand into the soft side of the sphere tunnel. Sweat sprang out in droplets on his forehead, beading on his upper lip. And like drawing a curtain, he pulled his hand away... and the material of the sphere came with it.

Clara gasped as she saw the fabric of the sphere wall clutched like so much warm taffy in the dark hand of the Traveler who could manipulate all things electromagnetic, she had been informed.

She turned to the Band, gulping hard when she caught sight of the zombie horde behind them.

Clara nodded and the Band parted as the zombies came through with the scum of the Kingdom of Kentucky.

They were heaved through the hole which remained of the new closure.

When all who did not belong to the Kingdom of Ohio were on the other side, the young Traveler pulled the material from one side of the wall to the other side of the sphere tunnel, effectively creating a new wall to close off the tunnel that had served as a conduit of trading for over one hundred years. It was a curtain now closed.

Forever.

Clara gazed at the people of a rival kingdom, now shut out from hers and gave a shaky sigh of relief.

She turned to the boy.

Caleb Hart. The Master of Death. It was time to restore the dead of her sphere to their proper resting place.

I studied Queen Clara as everything was put into its rightful place.

Her eyes met mine then traveled to Jade's.

She opened her mouth to speak but I answered her unspoken question, “I will.”

I turned and with a silent command, the dead of Clara's kingdom followed me Outside to rest once more.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I watched the Band stoke the blazing fire with the bits and pieces of zombie royalty and had an aching joy bleed into my heart.

They'd totally needed to go.

I walked toward the heat of the fire, my hand shielding my face from the intense warmth. The smell was the most disgusting I'd ever been around, my eyes instantly watering in reaction—nostril hairs protesting.

I guess that happened when you burned dead bodies. They smelled rank.

“Will this stop them?” Daniel asked me.

I nodded. I didn't think anyone could raise a headless corpse, or resurrect something from ash.

God help us if there were, I shuddered at the thought.

Queen Clara's eyes shone with unshed tears as she gazed at the flames licking the remains of those that'd been the worst of this world. An insane Prince and Queen, bent on abusing everyone in their path. But their main focus had been Clara.

My gaze shifted to the zombies that restrained the Zondorae brothers.

I instructed my dead.

“No! You can't do this! You can't use these corpses to keep us here!” Joe yelled, trying to wrench himself free.

I whirled around and stalked toward them, the zombies clutching the brothers tighter in response to the automatic rage that leaked out of me. When I was so close I could have kissed them, I stabbed a finger into the chest of the brother with the biggest mouth. “You're the one that screwed this six ways to Sunday. You created us by using them. Now your pet projects are taking over and you're pissed?” I yelled in his face, the force of my voice hurting my throat.

“Yeah, what he said!” Jonesy said.

I looked at Jonesy.

He threw up his hands. “Chillax, dude. Let's get the hell outta Dodge.”

Right.

I gave the zombies their final instructions while the remaining dead poured back into the wounded and frozen ground.

The ice slid over the graves, hiding them again until they would be small hills of earth when the spring's warmth returned.

The Queen approached me and offered her hand.

I took it, shaking it gently and releasing it.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

“You were supposed to kiss her hand,” John said quietly.

“Did you want to do this?” I returned, just as quiet.

John shook his head. “No, you're boss this time.”

I turned my back on the Js, looking at Queen Clara.

I smiled back.

“We are well met, young Traveler,” Clara said as I studied her, memorizing her.

My gaze shifted to all the strong men who stood behind her, gills of pink flesh ribbons twined around thick necks, eyes different colors but with the same look in each. Loyalty and protection.

To her.

For Clara.

The one that stood at her back had the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.

And the most unflinching.

Clara came forward and reaching up, cupped her hand on my cheek.

I made a little sound of surprise, her tender touch caused me to respond in kind, and I wrapped her small hand as it lay against my face. Our hands pressed together for a moment and she stunned me with her words... the expression on her face.

Aimed at me, its solidarity rooted me to the spot more than anything could have.

“You honor your world this day. I thank you for saving all that we are.” Her hand slipped out of mine and I felt the loss of it like fresh grief.

I understood that royalty was different than birthright, it was a trueness in character, a desire to do the right thing at any cost.

I was reminded of my reason for being here.

“Thank you, Queen Clara.” I crept backward, our gazes locked as I joined the others, Randi in the middle.

Randi was ready. Ready to cast the net of her power for the return to our world.

Matthew's large hand held Clara's small one, his chin clearing the top of her head with ease, those blue eyes trained on mine.

“Will we ever see you again, young Traveler?”

“Caleb,” I corrected softly.

Queen Clara inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.

I shook my head.

Sadness crossed her features briefly then vanished.

“Then I bid you good fortune, Caleb Hart,” Clara said, her face a mix of grateful sadness.

A bittersweet feeling tightened inside of me. Later, when I was older than Gramps, I would recognize it as nostalgia.

John answered for him, “I think Caleb makes his own fortune, Queen Clara.”

Daniel translated.

“Aye, we are more alike than you know.”

I felt my sad smile transform into a grin. The most unlikely of allies, from two separate worlds, a common goal for both.

Using all that we were for the good of all.

I saw Clara's unwavering gaze as we slipped out of their world, a wash of brilliant kaleidoscopic colors coalesced into a searing brightness which blinded, a constellation of fallen stars, eight in all.

Then we were gone.

Departed forever from her world, Queen Clara's solemn face never left my memory, my lifetime altered because of our acquaintance.

****

“Wow, Hart, that was completely weird!” Alex said, his hands on his knees, while he stooped over, trying not to puke up a lung.

I wasn't feeling that special myself as I looked around at my friends. Most of their heads were hanging but a few looked almost perky.

Of course, Randi was doing the best because she was using a natural ability.

Or, unnatural if you figured in the evolutionary leap that had been forced on us by the Graysheet's interference. Just thinking about all that they'd done and how they'd made it happen got me just as pissed as I could be.

I helped Jade up and her hair swung forward in a black curtain in front of her face. I pulled the chunk that stood in front of her vision and tucked it behind her ear.

She looked green. “Ugh!” Jade covered her mouth and I watched as she struggled to clamp down on her nausea.

John said, “I think it's some sort of extreme motion sickness.”

“Vertigo?” Archer asked.

John nodded.

“Nah,” Alex said. He gave us serious eyes, “I saw those dick holes jab each other with serum or some crap after they fell out of their Interference Pathway.” He looked at us.

An idea began to form. “Right. It makes them sick and they were shooting themselves up with the counter,” I assessed.

Mia crossed her arms, her hands trembling as she did. “This is not a pulsegame, Caleb. Plain speak please,” she said, still polite.

I guess girls didn't dig gaming talk. You had a skill and there was always a way to counter said skill. Duh. Okay. I gave her my attention. “The deal is, the,” I looked at the girls and tempered my language, a little, “Zondorae scientists,” I said with keen derision, “are just regular guys.” My eyes met each of theirs and they nodded. “So, the pathway must shift their shit around, and when they come back together, their bodies are all misplaced.” I thought of my dad and added, “At the molecular level, even.”

John rolled his eyes at my explanation but it was simplified for the mouth-breather challenges I might encounter. Like Jonesy.

But surprisingly, he was on board. “So they use some crap that neutralizes the effects of the transport?” His eyebrows rose.

I nodded.

John made a low noise in his throat.

Sounded like surprise to my well-trained ears. I had grunts and non-articulated verbiage down to a damn science. Hell, I was male—I was born to understand that. That females couldn't understand and they were supposed to be communicators? A mystery.

Jade scowled at my thought processes, which had slid right to her from our clasped hands.

I shrugged helplessly.

She tried not to laugh and got the crooked mouth instead. I had made that a contagion in my group, I thought with perverse pleasure.

“What?” Tiff asked, seeing the private joke as it formed.

Jade flicked her eyes to mine, the color gradually returning to her sallow complexion. “I think Caleb was wondering why girls don't understand caveman speak.”

I frowned. Actually, that was not totally it.

“I do, ya morons,” Tiff said, another bubble collapsing the oxygen in the small space of the hideaway.

Of course she did. It was almost a cheat, with the five brothers.

Sophie uncovered her ears and glared at Tiff, who smiled back. “I don't think it's a ʻskillʼ,” Sophie said, air quoting with her crimson fingernails.

“Anyway,” Bry began, deflecting a cat fight with ease, “they get sick so—it's bad news for me.” He jabbed a thumb in his chest.

Shit, he was a mundane. Bry just got his atoms or whatever rearranged and now he was gonna croak.

Bry saw my face fall and got fear on the edges of his.

Randi shook her head. “No, I think my power, whether we traveled the dimensional highway or not...”

“Negated,” John prompted and she nodded at him.

“Canceled out the sickness problem.” Her eyes met Bry's and he exhaled in a relieved expulsion.

“Thank God,” he muttered, his hand stroking his chest like his heart was going to fall out of his ribcage.

“Chill, you're fine, Weller,” Jonesy said, crushing his second lollipop and grinding the sweet sugared crystals with his teeth.

Sophie smiled. “If we're alive then everything is okay with you, right Jonesy?”

He looked at her in a puzzled way. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn't it be?”

The guys looked at the chicks and felt the weight of the difference in the sexes descend, the barrier there.

We smiled at each other, the boys on target and the girls confused about our willingness to brave the unknown.

Typical.

I smiled as we straggled out of the hideaway.

We felt like we'd accomplished something that day. The memory of helping a world that wasn't our own, stranding the scientists in the middle of the shit they'd started, it was an accomplishment.

Of course, that just meant that Parker and the Graysheets were going to duel. They'd eventually find out about his involvement.

And mine.

In fact, as Gramps would say, it was coming full circle.

And it was going to bite me in the ass.

Story of my life.

The sunlight winked off my windshield, temporarily blinding me. It speared my eyes as I slowed beside the curb of Jade's foster family's house.

The dump.

I knew before I pushed the shifter into park that Howie would be there, gunning to give me shit again. He was painful in his regularity. The Howie frequency was almost like taking a crap, it happened every day. But he was like constipation or something. A turd to be flushed down the porcelain goddess.

Nice. I swept out of the car, whistling tunelessly as the morning bit at my heels, autumn had come and with it, that familiar crispness.

I gazed up at the sky, the summer hanging on even as fall deepened the blue unmercifully. The sky went on forever in the month of October. I tore my gaze away, clamping down on my daydreamer tendencies with an effort.

The weekend was here and the whole pack of us were headinʼ out to Gramps. The Parents too. Gramps was my house for now. It felt weird.

And right.

Onyx had transitioned right into living with Gramps. Sometimes, like the traitor he was, he'd even sleep at the foot of Grampsʼ bed.

I looked at the crooked stoop where Jade lived and watched her descend the steps, Howie barking at her heels. That's what I saw anyway. A well-trained guard dog on a leash it didn't like, sniffing for trouble.

And I was here to deliver.

See how that shit worked out?

I'd rounded the back end of the Camaro before I even knew it, bouncing up on the curb and striding to where Jade was walking, her high heeled boots clicking on the cracked cement.

Frazier saw me coming and smiled evilly. The asshat knew I had to watch it. The probation wasn't up yet. If I used the dead, they'd lock me up.

What he said next slowed my step.

“How's that vacation, Hart?” His eyes raked over my body and I knew he was assessing me as a guy. Could he take me? Were all the rumors true? Would the dead come and kick his ass for me, or was I tough enough to do it without them?

I was sure willing to give it the old college try. My anger simmered underneath the surface like one of my mom's pots coming to a boil.

Frazier blew it when he touched Jade's arm, wrapping his big hand around it entirely, jerking her backward, he hissed, “You're not going with him, he's a menace. Not allowed on school property either.” He winked at me.

Jade's green eyes got big as she stumbled backward, completely unprepared for his advance. There was something on her face as she saw me come for him.

Then Brett was there. He yelled, “Hart!”

I turned and Howie belted me with a cheap shot.

Jade screamed.

He caught me just right on the edge of my chin. I spun backward as Brett grabbed Jade.

Every guy's jaw is made of glass if you hit him right.

Mine felt shattered.

I don't know what hurt worse, seeing Jade in Brett's arms or the sucker punch I'd just taken.

Howie tried to land on me to start the whaling he'd clearly planned but I fell backward and let my hands bite the ground as I simultaneously jabbed out with my foot, catching him in the middle of his bread basket. My head spun and I felt puke rising but now was not the time to get squeamish cuz I took a hit. And there was a new and exciting development: I felt him before I saw him. Clyde was there before I'd thought of anything.

Damn, the manure was rolling downhill to collect at my feet.

The fear crawled into my belly.

Howie smiled. He'd planned it. The fucker was trying to get me locked up. He knew when Jade would leave—when my probation was up.

And most importantly, he had some kind of bead on me and my boy Clyde.

Brett took Jade behind him and launched himself at Howie. It was bizarre, one minute Jade had been glued to him (hated it), the next he was landing on an unprepared but smug Howie.

They rolled around on the weedy grass of his family's outlawed lawn.

Clyde hauled me up by my arm. I swayed.

He stared at me.

“Go,” I said roughly.

Clyde ignored me. Instead he watched the teens who were almost men beating the tar out of each other not two meters away from where we stood.

“Caleb,” Clyde started, his thick dark blond hair lifting in the morning breeze.

I shook my head, hoping for clarity and getting nothing but bile for my trouble, it rose unbidden in my throat. I planted my hands on my knees, stabilizing myself. I was trying to ride out getting my bell rung.

The whoop of sirens began in the distance.

I craned my head to the side and looked up at Clyde's face. His suit he always wore was mended to perfection, always clean, always perfect. “They're coming, ya gotta go!”

Clyde curled his mighty hands into fists and strode to the dueling teens. He tore Brett off Howie and knelt beside him.

Howie, every bit of six foot of solid muscle cringed from the nearness of my zombie. And man, did he not look dead. But that didn't matter, Clyde was. Howie knew it. Somewhere deep inside, his humanity had been shaken by something so unnatural, so foreign in its essence, his very being withdrew from it.

Like now.

“Get back, fucker!” Howie screamed, trying to scuttle backwards out of range.

Not happening.

Clyde wasn't a fan of foul language. He grabbed Howie by the lapel of his shirt and dragged him close to his face. He ran a strong tapered finger down his jaw.

Howie shiver with flagrant revulsion at his touch.

Clyde shook Howie casually in his unbreakable hold.

Howie's teeth rattled.

“I am well-versed in human anatomy, varmint. I can make much look accidental. I have been told that my DNA,” it was comical, Clyde looked at me for confirmation and I nodded dully, “and fingerprints will not be identified. I am far too old for the technology of this era to apply to my deeds. Nefarious or otherwise.”

Howie's eyebrows jacked, his mouth forming an O.

“Clyde go!” I yelled, knowing what would happen if the cops found him here with me. They wouldn't need an excuse to kill him, incarcerate me. It'd be over. And Howie would have won. And every other person that didn't like the cauldron of the dead I'd stirred up.

“Is he daft?” Clyde asked no one in particular as the siren wail drew nearer.

Definitely.

He bore down on Howie. “Let me speak plainly then. Know this: I will kill you. Stop your efforts now, or suffer the consequences.”

“Clyde,” Jade called out softly.

Clyde dropped Howie in a heap on the grass where he cracked his head on the sidewalk and made a girl-like yelp.

Lovinʼ that.

Clyde walked to Jade and he collected her tiny hands in his large ones. Farmer's hands, he'd told me once.

Fighting hands.

She searched his eyes, his dead flesh encapsulating her living. “You have to go, they'll burn you, and take Caleb.” She flicked her eyes to mine.

I gave a terse nod, striding to where they stood.

He nodded once and turned on Brett. Clyde stared at him thoughtfully then hissed.

I breathed easier when his mouth looked normal.

Brett stood his ground, his eyes very wide. Couldn't say I blamed him.

“It's okay, Clyde. He gets a free pass, he beat the crap out of Howie.”

Clyde frowned and cocked his head. “They come.”

He whirled, sprinting for the fence which separated one dismal yard from another. His departure was like watching a champion hurdler.

Clyde swiveled his head to look at me just as he cleared the top of the fence. His glittering gaze held mine for a second then he was gone.

It wasn't until that night that I realized Gale hadn't been with him.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Garcia had his nightstick jammed up underneath my chin before I could even say hello.

Not that he would've allowed that, no way, not now. We were way beyond exchanging small change pleasantries.

He blamed me for Gale. For everything. Little lines that hadn't been there a year ago framed his dark eyes, his jaw was harder, his body—leaner.

His face right now was hella pissed off.

At me.

Jade screamed when he propped my wounded chin on the tip of the blunt instrument of beatings and ran for us.

Brett jerked her back against him and spoke quietly to her.

“No!” she sobbed as his dark eyes met mine.

I nodded at him, happy he hadn't let her get closer. “Don't you hurt him, Garcia!”

His eyes sought hers, his expression hard. “I'm doing my job here, Jade. You'd do well to remember that.”

Howie walked over to where we stood, our eyes locked.

“Hart had his pet zombie here, all droolinʼ and threatening me, right here.” Howie, the braniac, pointed to where we stood and expounded on his supreme intelligence, “He threatened me. Can you believe this shit? He threatened me with death!” he snorted. Howie thought he was so funny, what with his supposed pun and all?

No.

But Garcia wasn't caring about the intellectual quotient that was Howie, that accusing stare landed on me like a ton of bricks. He pressed the tip of the police-grade baton into the tender spot in my throat.

“Nah, Garcia. Do ya see any dead people?” I said out of my half-closed mouth.

Garcia gave a tight smile. “Why would this guy lie?” he asked, jerking his chin in Howie's direction.

Seriously? Damn... why wouldn't he? Had Garcia taken a look around the digs here? Hell, it was Planet Dysfunction.

“He was here! I swear!” Howie said, throwing out his hands, trying his best to look sincere.

He wasn't doing half-bad considering he was telling the truth. I'm sure it wasn't normal for him, but whatever.

Garcia straightened, removing the hardness of the piece from under my chin.

I fought not to rub where it'd been.

His stare turned to Brett and Jade. “I'm going to ask this question once: was Clyde the zombie here today, threatening the victim?”

“Who—Howie?” Brett asked, eyes going wide. “He's the victim?”

Garcia nodded slowly. “He looks like the victim.” His gaze took in Jade. “Did you see the zombie?” Jade gulped when he pointed the nightstick at her.

I didn't like that one little bit.

She shook her head.

Garcia stepped toward her.

I did the dumbass again and grabbed his forearm. He whipped that stick around and caught me under my knee.

“Damn man!” Brett yelled. “You're a cop! You can't whale on him like that!”

I folded where I stood. I hadn't liked him going toward my girl like he meant harm.

I noticed he wasn't responding to things neutrally anymore, the back of my leg was one big throbbing inferno of pain.

“Raul!”

I recognized that voice. I went ahead and puked on the overgrown and weedy Frazier lawn. I guess the hit to my jaw along with the bludgeon to the back of the knee had done me in. A concussion was looking probable about now.

Gale ran to me, jerking me up to my feet. I turned away from her, puking some more. With any luck I'd get some on that tard, Howie.

I swayed and she said quietly, “Clyde sent me.”

Well damn, that was fast.

Garcia pivoted in his shiny cop shoes and strode to her. It cleared my head immediately.

Nothing like a Chick In Danger to set a dude on point. Even a chick that was a cop.

Former cop.

Jade came jogging after him with Brett on her heels.

He moved to stab a finger in Gale's chest and I swung her behind me, my leg screaming in protest at the pivot.

“Hey Caleb!” she said loudly, “I've got this!”

His manic gaze swung to mine and he said quietly, “Get out of my way. As it is, you're in a boatload of trouble young man.”

“You deck your former partner in front of four witnesses and you'll be on the same boat.” I looked over at Howie, who scowled at me. “Three witnesses,” I amended.

That clown couldn't tell something straight if he had a gun barrel pressed to his forehead.

His expression darkened, and he opened his mouth to say something.

“Shut up, Frazier,” I said preemptively.

Gale had weaseled her way around me and stood shouting at Garcia. Jade and Brett slid to a stop at the edge of the ragged brown grass. I couldn't believe the entire neighborhood hadn't gotten out of their houses to see what the noise was about.

Guess these scenarios were pretty typical.

I spit a mess of puke and spittle out on the grass where no one stood and met Garcia's eyes.

He moved to go around Gale to get to me.

Gale grabbed his forearm and he swung the nightstick around, lifting the club above his head.

I had a second to react but it wouldn't be enough.

Gale was trained in hand to hand but not hand to baton. She lifted her forearm to defend her face when the wrist that held the nightstick was clamped like a vise.

Clyde was back and things went from bad to worse in a hurry, landslide style.

Garcia, who had lost all sense of justice, his badge winking in the early morning light swept his free arm into Clyde's temple. The knuckles of his index and middle fingers jabbed the tender side of Clyde's head. Clyde stumbled and loosened his hold suddenly.

Garcia tightened his grip on the baton, turning on Gale again in a rage. The face that I'd known before, changed irretrievably into a mask of hate.

Clyde shook his head and charged Garcia. He took him in the gut and they flew, landing onto the patch of grass that was alarmingly close to my puke.

Jade ran to me and buried her face against my chest. Brett followed her and I left her with him, running to Garcia and Clyde.

Clyde had already started in with the head banging. “You will not touch my intended!” Bang, thwack, bang.

“Clyde,” I bellowed.

He paused in his assault, gazed at Gale and began again.

Shit.

Garcia began choking from the hold on his throat by Clyde.

I roared over there, sliding in like it was home base. “Release him!” I gave the command with something like tectonic plates slipping inside my brain, the strength of my command making me ill.

I thought I'd toss my cookies again.

Clyde let go instantly, staggering to his feet. He backed up, clutching his head with both hands.

Garcia held his throat, gasping and choking.

Gale held up her pulse like a bright red talisman. She'd pulsed for back up. We all stared at Garcia on the grass, coughing up a lung, glaring at us. Even Howie gazed at him.

He'd well and truly lost it.

Two cop cars showed up and four patrolman poured out, weapons naked in their heads. Ready.

They pointed the guns at Clyde.

I moved in to protect my zombie.

I never noticed Brett take Jade in his arms and her shoulders slump in relief.

If I had, maybe I could have started to counter it then. As it turned out, maybe it wouldn't have mattered anyway. I'd set the stage.

Brett had always been ready to dance.

****

My parents and Gramps stood in the police station while Gale spoke to them in a low voice. I'd managed to get in there without cuffs on. A first in the last year. Brett, Jade, Howie and Clyde listened as the cops droned on like bees that were winding down close to the hive.

The bottom line was they had two suspended cops now. Garcia had gone off the deep end. But, unlike Gale, he was suspended without pay, pending an IA investigation. Internal Affairs was gonna do the probe. Actually, Jonesy had a name for it. When I'd pulsed the group in the back of (another) gross cop car ride I took the time to remember what Jonesy said.

Internal Affairs, huh? Jonesy

Yeah- CH

I think it's more like Internal Anus Probe. Ya know, IAP- Jonesy

laughs maybe- CH

Do ya want some moral support? I could get Terran and the rest of the guys down there—

Pulse interruption

No! CH

laughs worried about what might go down, Hart? Jonesy

Hell yeah, actually.

Kinda. Right now, things aren't going so great. I want as few extras as we can get- CH

How'd profanity-block Brett happen to be jag-up on the spot? Jonesy

Death Connection, Jones- CH

Emotive response medium

I thought you did a manual overdrive on the emote function? Jonesy

Yeah, the emote thing goes automatic every time I start up- CH

That blows! Jonesy

Yeah.

Okay—just, tell everyone what happened- CH

Right. Hart? Jonesy

Yeah? CH

Do ya think you can make it to the probation date? Jonesy

pause in pulse communication

I don't know- CH

That sucks, man- Jonesy

Yeah, no profanity-block- CH

Ttys, bro- Jonesy

K- CH

pulse terminated by Mark “Jonesy” Jones

I had slid my pulse into the back pocket of my jeans as we pulled up to the Kent Police Station, the cruisers lining the parking lot like sardines in a can.

I missed school today, my vacation for the last mess almost over.

Wished it'd been for a different reason.

Jade stood next to me as Dad and Gramps had The Lawsuit discussion. Basically, I was sixteen for another couple of weeks and a cop had hit me with a police weapon. Hence, the suspension.

Dad's face was a hard mask of worry and anxiety. The thing was, they probably didn't see it but I was on to the whole thing. Gramps looked like he was discussing lawn fertilizer. He didn't get rattled that easy.

“Come here, son.”

I squeezed Jade and she let out a breathy exhale. I tilted her chin up and met her eyes, I searched the green depths and found a lot of things in there I didn't like. Uncertainty and apprehension stood there like they were setting up camp for the duration. “It'll be okay, babe, you'll see,” I said.

Those eyes got shiny with tears, soaking her eyelashes, the sootiness of them glistening and dark like her hair. I swept Jade against me and gave her a hard hug. Reluctant to release her, I gave Clyde a look.

He nodded, his gaze shifting to Brett, who looked back levelly. He was a little too confident with the dead now. He'd had the brush with it and was all cozy with my zombie now.

I knew that was a one-way street. Clyde wasn't the cozy type.

And Jade. That was such a disturbing new development I didn't even know how to quantify it all. But I'd been using him all week to watch over her. In essence, I'd made it worse. But with Frazier dragging his millimeter dick around I had to take drastic measures.

I breathed in the fragrance of her hair as her head sat tucked underneath my chin.

My eyes closed.

Dad called again, “Caleb?”

“I'm coming,” I said, releasing Jade as I turned to walk over to the guy in a smarmy suit. He was a lawyer, I could tell, having had my fair share of attorneys around in the past. That made me think of the last day in court. As I approached the tight knot of my parents, Gramps and the ambulance-chasing lawyer, I remembered how my fate had been sealed months ago.

I approached the stand as Toothy stood on the balls of his feet, lifting and settling his body weight over and over again, his arms clasped behind his back. As Gramps would say, he was chompinʼ at the bit to nail me on the stand.

He looked like a horse too, with that mouth full of square yellowed teeth.

Prosecutor had a smirk on his mouth that I wiped off his face with a smile that overturned his with the velocity and fierceness of its delivery.

The Judge's face was flushed, a fine spiderweb of broken capillaries swarmed his nose, standing testimony to his love of booze.

“You're still under oath, Mr. Hart.”

I nodded. “I understand.” I looked away from Prosecutor and caught Clyde's eyes.

He gave a chin dip.

Bring it. I stared at Chomper of the horse teeth. He didn't miss the look I gave Clyde, deftly asking the next question in an effort to rattle me.

It didn't work.

“Did you murder those men inside the judo dojo, Mr. Hart?” he asked in the softest voice, but from his gut. The timbre cut through the still and quiet courtroom air like a knife on butter. Pliable, soft... strong.

“No,” I said with equal intensity.

He straightened, turning to the jury. A group of my peers.

Right. All kinds of paranormals in that crowd. I looked at their somber and accusing faces and knew I had to work the charm.

Not that I had an assload of that on hand.

“Mr. Hart here, a five-point Cadaver-Manipulator, very well knew what he was doing when he intended death for the as yet unidentified men.” His piercing gaze latched on to me.

I held his stare. I didn't even squirm. Those Graysheets had been an expendable group.

And now I knew where they came from too. There'd never be any identifiers, with them being fragment and all. Of course, that's what I knew now, because I'd been in Clara's world. Back then, when he'd been grilling me, I hadn't known why Skinny-smoker and the rest were blanks on the pulse coding that was now a prevalent identifier to the masses. Now I did. The Graysheets were the octopus body and the tentacles were these expendables. Get a tentacle metaphorically chopped off and another would take its place. It was a good system till me and the posse took out their Pathway at the knees. Yeah, it felt good. Now, as that memory invaded my mind like a Trojan horse, I wondered if I was in for a repeat of the bullshit that had transpired months ago.

I hoped not.

“Caleb, this is Mr. Riley. He is special council for the Kent Police Department.” I met eyes like a hawk's—sharp and inquisitive—and knew I was in trouble. Those bright eyes flicked to a point behind my shoulder and I felt Clyde's smooth deathness likea balm at my back.

“Mr. Hart,” those beady eyes met mine, “would you tell it to move away?”

Gramps said, “I don't think the police department, and you in particular, as their representative, can dictate who stands where.”

Mom made a noise in the back of her throat, and Dad shifted his weight. The Parents shouldn't have called Gramps, but there was no choice, really. He was my legal guardian for the duration of the probation. Those were the terms assigned in court from almost a year ago. It'd have been until my eighteenth birthday if I'd lived with my parents. They had custody rights, and I'd gone back home every weekend. And had six weeks in the summer. They felt I got off lucky.

It hadn't felt that way every Sunday night when Mom cried when I left. I think she needed me more than I needed her.

Riley leaned forward, closer to Gramps, his stance confrontational.

Clearly, he had a death wish.

I glanced over my shoulder and Clyde smirked. Nice.

“And by what authority to you declare said terms, sir?”

Gramps took the two strides to get in Riley's grill. “You a champ for our constitution, son?”

“Pop!” Mom half-yelled.

“Not now, Peanut,” Gramps said carefully, not moving his eyes from the attorney.

“Of course I understand it,” Riley replied, indignant.

“Then I ask that you brush up on minor law. My grandson is under my watch care at the moment and you're going to have to bring more than a tailored suit and arrogance for me to see things your way. You got me, pal?”

Riley ignored the threat of Gramps. (Bad move... very bad. I was waiting for the fistful of monkey shit to fly but there was time for that later if Jonesy showed.)

“There is nothing that says I must stand toe to toe with a walking corpse to address your grandson, Mr. O'Brien.” His smug smile returned like an open wound.

“No, but he's part of Caleb. He lives because of him. I don't think you've really digested that simple precept, counselor.”

Digested that. Like a boil on my ass, I got the damn crooked mouth and couldn't get rid of it.

Then Jonesy opened the door so hard it thwacked the pot that was behind the door and shattered the terracotta. The anemic green plastic of the plant slid out onto the floor in a dirty mix of recycled material, fake dirt and recycled quartz pebbles.

They scattered all over the floor, running amok and making a racket.

“Oops!” Jonesy muttered loudly. “Didn't mean to annihilate the décor!”

He so did. I began to laugh. It was too rich. Here I was, in the shitty police station again, my knee felt dislocated, my girlfriend was with my arch enemy—Gramps was holding back a supreme ass-kicking on the attorney—and the gang had shown up with timing so perfect I couldn't have ordered it.

“Hey Hart!” Jonesy said with a wink, “need a distraction?”

Oh yeah, did I ever.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The enraged cow (nah, not Griswold this time... she had an honored, one-of-a-kind position), rounded the receptionist's desk as Dad gave me The Look, and Gramps stared as the gang poured in through the swinging glass doors.

One of the double doors got caught on some of the crap from the pot and Alex tried to unstick it by tearing it back toward him over the top of the stuff, and ripped it off the hinges. Alex stood there holding a door that weighed seventy kilos and grinned. His face took on a dull red color.

Randi said, “Oh shit.”

Yeah, that. I bent over at the waist, laughing harder.

Three cops rounded the corner, having heard the commotion and I watched as they took in the mess on the floor as the biggest guy they'd seen in a long time ripped their door off the frame.

They must have thought they were being attacked or something, because their guns cleared their holsters. They pointed them at Alex.

He promptly put up the door like a shield. For a smart guy, that was one of the dumbest moves I'd ever seen.

It was Clyde, looking at the horrible receptionist (who loved the hell out of me and Tiff, I knew) that came barreling forward toward the offense of the plant in a wreck on the floor and said, “He is a young man that does not know his own strength.”

The copsʼ eyes flicked to his.

He gave them an unblinking stare back. “You the dead guy?” one of the three asked. Probably a rookie, he looked about twelve and a half.

“Amongst other things,” Clyde replied coolly.

“Officers,” John said, putting his hands up. They swung their guns to him and his Adam's apple bobbed nervously.

Hell, it wasn't every day that a person had a loaded weapon trained on them.

“Meyers! Henry! Daniels!” Porky said from behind them, given her girth, she was mighty fast. They looked at her. “They're just a bunch of kids! Put those guns down.”

Gale came through the door and gasped.

Their eyes shifted to her.

“What the hell is going on here?” Gale stumbled over the debris.

“The officers have mistaken the children for criminals,” Clyde said. Their eyes were ping-ponging now from Porky, to Gale then finally, with profound skittishness, to Clyde.

Alex was still holding the door.

“These are the paranormal kids from KPH. They're not here to cause trouble.”

Jonesy actually laughed at this.

Gramps frowned at him.

“I'm sorry, Mac. It's just so lame!”

One of the officers, Henry, the nametag said, dropped his weapon to let it hang at his side. “Okay, enlighten us as to why we've come into the lobby of our police station and there's a busted plant and half a door?” He holstered his weapon and the other two did as well.

I got my hysterical laughter under control and made an effort not to look at Jones. That'd start it up again for sure.

Gale scanned the group. Tiff snapped a bubble, Bry shifted his weight and John stood quietly beside Archer. Sophie had an orange and purple cheetah shirt on, with glittering hoops and Randi stood beside Alex... who was still clutching a door that weighed almost double what Jade did.

Speaking of, she was next to Brett.

I held out my hand and she took it, Brett staying put. For the moment.

“Well, it's a hard thing to explain but where Caleb Hart shows up, most of these guys follow.”

Mia walked in through the shattered doorframe of the police door and held her pulse up. “I'm here.” Her eyes bounced around the mess and she looked up. “What happened?” Mia's gaze took in the three tense cops, the ginormous pissed receptionist and her eyes settled on mine. “Is this another deal?”

I thought about that. “Yeah.”

Mia's hip jutted out and she held her elbow with her free hand, whipping up her pulse. “Uh-huh, that's what I thought. I had to ditch class to be here. Jonesy pulsed and said it was an emergency.”

I shot him a dark look. Should've known not to pulse the Jonester. Hell, he always alerts the damn media.

Jonesy's eyes bulged. “What, man? It is an emergency! Didn't Garcia go psycho on everyone's ass?” He nodded his head as Mom began to rant about his language. “Uh-huh, looks like Caleb's gonna go free. Hey man!” Jonesy said with a fist-pump, “this is your get out of jail free card.”

“Like that old Monopoly game?” Alex asked, turning bodily with the door still clamped in his hands.

Porky came forward. “Put that door down this instant, young man!” Alex was mainly a follower and looked for a place for it to go.

“Argh!” she said and waddled over to where he stood. “Just... ugh! Lean it up against the wall there,” she said, pointing a stubby finger to the right of the bench that had been beside the plant.

“Okay, ma'am,” Alex said in a contrite voice as he walked the thing over there and leaned it up against the wall.

“Now I'm going to have to call a repair place and they're not going to want to come here and fix this on a Friday!” She swiveled pretty quickly for a hippo, waddling back to the three pulse screens to rant a pulse to the elusive Repair Team.

Riley put his hands on his hips, dismissing my group.

So much for distraction factor.

“Mr. Hart, you have heard your rights as your attorney presented them to you.”

“He's not been charged with a crime, nor is he in custody,” Gramps clarified.

Riley looked at him. “Be that as it may, he needs to be verbally apprised of his rights, Mr. O'Brien.”

Was there another way? What—braille?

“As long as it's a point of clarity and not issuance.” Gramps frowned.

Riley swung his brows up like a clown (I was waiting for the big red nose to grow along with matching shoes). “You needn't worry, Mr. O'Brien.” He made serious eye contact with Gramps. “It is the position of the Kent Police Department to understand Caleb's stance with this incident.”

John came forward with a smile. “Hey Caleb.”

I turned, wondering about his interruption. John was a deliberate dude. I lifted my chin in acknowledgment.

“They're wanting you not to sue.”

“I didn't imply that, young man,” he said eying John, “not that you're part of this discussion.” His eyes tightened, giving him away though.

“What if I do?” My eyes narrowed on him like lasers.

“Detective Garcia will lose his position in the department and there might be longer-term consequences as well.”

Lewis, who had moved to stand behind him added, “They're covering their collective butts.”

Alex grinned, and Archer gave him a frown.

Riley scowled at them. “This does not involve anyone but the people that were placed at the incident.”

“I was,” Jade said, raising the hand that I wasn't holding.

“Me too,” Brett said, stepping forward.

Howie got the troll face going but had to be part of the noose that had potential to hang me, so naturally he piped in, “And me.”

Riley returned his gaze to me.

“I want to see Garcia, it's between him and me,” I said.

“You'll have a police escort. Then I want an answer,” he demanded.

My blood begin to boil. Not so hard, as my veins had been on simmer since the fun of the morning.

Gramps put his calloused hands on his pressed old guy pants. “Stop commanding and start going along with things, Mr. Riley.”

Riley stared at Gramps and neither blinked. Finally, Riley slid his gaze from Grampsʼ.

“Come on, I'll take ya,” Daniels the cop said.

I nodded, looking once at Jade as I walked away, our fingers reluctantly parting.

I walked into an office that I recognized as Garcia's. I immediately noticed how the thing had been stripped bare. Gale's presence had been sanitized from the room down to the minutest detail. No plant, no photo, no single memento that would have signaled her presence, remained.

When my eyes went to the desk where Garcia sat, his head was in his hands. “Garcia,” I said.

“Go, Caleb,” he said, “just go.”

I stood there for a minute then looked at Henry. “Can ya give us a second?”

He looked at Garcia then nodded. “I'll be right outside this door.”

I waited until he was outside, the door open a crack.

“What's going on?”

The silence rolled out. Finally, his head rose, chin first, the eyes swollen and red and I knew he'd shed some tears. “I loved her, you know.”

What?

He stared at me.

I made a stab in the dark, “Who... Gale?”

“Yeah, Bobbi.”

WTF, so? He beat on me because of Gale? He must have read my confusion and pondered how to elaborate.

He stood, walking over to the window, the dirty glass looking out over the parking lot. The cars like sardines in neat rows. He didn't turn, his back faced me.

Maybe that was easier.

He stood for such a long time I didn't know if he would ever speak. When he did he startled me and I jumped. “First, it was Smith.” He leaned his head against the wood molding that lined the edges of the window. “I thought we had something special, then she broke it off, turning to that psycho Null.”

“She didn't know he was a murderer, Garcia. She's AFTD, not Empath.”

“True,” he said, suddenly spinning around.

I fought to not back up, my mind conjuring up the image of that baton.

Garcia's exhale was raw, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dark blue uniform pants. “I didn't mean to hurt you.” He smacked his hand into his open palm.

“And Gale? What were ya doinʼ there?”

He studied me. “I don't know.” He straightened. “I want to show you something.”

Well hell, that came out of nowhere.

“Come here,” he said, carefully rolling up his sleeve.

I approached him warily. But when I saw what was revealed on his forearm, it made every ounce of caution flee.

“You know I wouldn't strike a woman.”

Before today, I would've staked my life on it. His behavior had been so erratic lately. His actions hadn't made sense. But this might explain it all.

There was a star-shaped welt on his forearm, angry and swollen.

I know that mark.

Our gaze locked. “I think they're using me,” Garcia said quietly, scared I wouldn't believe him.

We didn't need to say who.

I jerked out my pulse and thumbed the pad.

Music, vintage mix I thought into it.

Immediately music from the turn-of-the-century filled the small office and caused Henry to poke his head in the door.

“Everything okay?” His eyes swept the office.

I replied, “Yeah, it's cool.”

We talked for ten minutes about what we thought happened, the music effectively muffling our words. Afterward, I ended the discussion with, “So, whatever underlying emotional crap that's floating around—gets magnified?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. “I'll ask my dad, but I think it's some kind of enhancer.”

“No—don't ask him. It might put your folks in danger.”

I thought about what I could do. The Graysheets were causing a distraction here locally, and making Garcia the scapegoat.

Why? “Listen, I know I'm just a kid to you,” I began.

He held up his palm. “No, not so much anymore.” He smiled and I saw the old Garcia, the measured and cool-as-a-cucumber Garcia, sneak out in that look.

“I have a plan.”

“I don't know, sometimes your plans are a little extreme.”

My lips jerked up. Garcia doesn't know the half of it. “Yeah, but I think we can make this work if we do it together.” I told him what to do and he agreed. Then, “What about your job?”

He shrugged. “You decide how to handle things.” Garcia's back was against the wall. He'd just placed his trust in a guy that wouldn't turn seventeen for almost a month.

Of course, I wasn't your typical dude. I already knew what to do, knowing that the Graysheets were on the move just solidified my decisions. I wasn't gonna lie though, I was feeling overwhelmed. The probation was not expired, I was living with Gramps, and Garcia was a pawn on the chessboard for the Graysheets. Gale and Clyde faced prejudice at every turn, and Brett was a complication that got bigger every day.

Hell—shit loomed—then there was Howie.

Some of what I was thinking must have been on my face because Garcia reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I'm sorry.” His eyes searched my face. “Tell Bobbi I'm sorry too.”

I shook my head. “Nah, you'll see her later, remember?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Right.”

Yeah, there'd be a surprise guest if I had anything to do with it.

“You ready?” Henry asked, his hand on the doorknob, cranking it open.

He wasn't really asking, it was just time to go, his eyes flicking to Garcia then back to me.

“Yeah, I am.”

I walked away without looking back.

When I entered the lobby of the police station a swarm of guys in coveralls were there, fixing the door frame. A cleaning guy was getting rid of the remnants of the potted plant. It had looked like ass anyway. Its absence was an improvement.

My group stood at one end of the station while Porky continued to rant through pulse, her thumbs working at the speed of light, a blur of thumbs stabbing at oversized pulse pads.

Damn, she got shit done.

Riley stood awkwardly but separate from the Parents and Gramps.

When I walked out there beside Henry, Riley all but ran to me. “Well?” he asked tersely.

I took a deep breath, briefly glancing at Mom, Dad and Gramps.

“I don't want to press charges.”

“What?” Mom yelled, and Dad frowned.

Gramps searched my face, seeing things most wouldn't. “Are you sure that's what you want, Caleb?” His eyes bored into mine, seeking answers to questions he couldn't ask in this company.

“Let him make his own decisions,” Riley said, barely able to contain his glee. He shoved a pulse consent underneath my nose and said, “Thumb your agreement here.” He indicated where.

I pushed my thumb into the perfect position.

Gramps gave me a long look, then when his thumb was hovering over the part that said, Guardian Consent, Mom said, “Pops, no. He can't be allowed in a position of authority. This could happen to another teenager, person”—

—“Have a some faith in your boy, Peanut.” Gramps held her eyes.

Mom tried one last time, “Maybe he was coerced?” her eyes pleaded.

Dad shook his head. “I'm with Mac for once, hun.”

Gramps grunted.

Dad smiled. “It's time to trust Caleb's reasoning, his logic. Technically, he's already an adult.”

Mom shoulders slumped.

Gramps pressed his thumb. The pulse glowed a bright green, the color dying away to be replaced with the dull black of the pad again.

Riley snatched the pulse consent against his chest like we'd leap at him and gang-beat him for it. Jerk.

The cops looked at me. They weren't sure why I hadn't sued the department—gotten Garcia's ass fired. It was so anti-American not to sue. I got that. But I had bigger fish to fry.

I was gonna find Parker. I thought I had a way to do it.

I walked out of the station with my friends following. I put up a finger to Gramps and was surrounded by them in a second.

Sorta felt like a football huddle.

I met everyone's eyes one at a time. Finally, I told them the loose plan. I pegged Tiff with a stare. “I'm going to need your help to get Parker to come.”

“Okey-dokey. We'll bring the AFTD shit tonight!” Snap-crackle-pop with the gum.

Right.

Jonesy asked, “When?”

I told him and we broke apart. “This could get real messy. If ya don't want to—” I held up my palms.

They all nodded.

“Is it gonna be like the dome-world?” Randi asked, even though she'd been the conjurer of that whole thing.

“It could be the dome-world.”

“What?” John asked moving forward.

I shrugged. I wasn't sure what had happened to move the focus from me to Garcia. But I felt the it'd been a decoy maneuver. That there was a greater goal. And somehow I was in the middle of it, whether I wanted to be or not.

Jade had been silent through my speech and I was disquieted. We needed a little time together before the meeting tonight.

I was so glad that my “vacation” was over and she wouldn't be spending anymore time with Brett.

Brett, who'd kept his distance until now said, “You know, you're putting Jade in the middle of dangerous shit all the time, Hart.”

I frowned.

Jade said quietly, “Please Brett, don't.” She put her hand on his bare arm and his face rippled with an emotion I didn't like.

Comfort, intimacy—something else.

Ownership. I moved closer to him.

Jade restrained me. “What is he talkinʼ about Jade?” Blood was boiling—simmer but a memory.

She shied away from my anger a little and I looked at her, really looked at her. There was a tightness around her eyes that hadn't been there before.

Was I the cause of that? No—had to be the shit that went down with Howie. Living with that whacked family was taking its toll on her. Jade had a hand on both of us and I could feel the pulse of Brett through her. My energy had saved Jade but used him. I got a sense of his feelings.

A touch of Death was all it took for me to understand him more that he wanted me to.

It wasn't good. His eyes met mine, the challenge was there. And so was something else. While I'd been fighting off the chaos of my life and how it'd morphed into something else, my anger had evolved, progressing along with the circumstances as they'd presented themselves.

Brett, whose life had not changed, had achieved two things I hadn't mastered as well as he.

Patience and maturity.

He'd gotten older and I hadn't noticed it. Brett had quietly stayed on the sidelines, waiting for his opportunity. When I'd used his life essence to save Jade, I'd inadvertently put them in closer alignment. The event had worked seamlessly for his goals.

My eyes widened with the epiphany.

Jade got the trudging mire of my thought process and I hers. It was impossible not to, we were that in tune with each other.

I looked down into her face and she met my stare. “You don't want to go tonight?” It wasn't really the question I wanted to ask—it was the question I could.

She shook her head and tears scattering.

My eyes dove at Brett. “Gettinʼ cozy with my girl, Mason?”

He shrugged. “Things are calm around me, Hart. Dead shit doesn't creep out and hit everyone between the eyes. Jade doesn't get hurt.”

I flinched and he saw it.

“You don't feel protected with me?” I asked, wrapping her hand in mine.

Jade was silent for so long I took that as her answer but she surprised me with, “I know you'd protect me. But I want to not need it, Caleb.”

She let go of Brett's arm and tucked her black hair behind her ear. Something I was so used to doing I was stunned by her doing it instead.

I opened my mouth to respond and she whispered, “I don't want to need it,” she repeated.

Her words stopped me like hitting a brick wall, all the oxygen getting sucked out of the room.

Jade was breaking up with me.

My rock. My touchstone. My life. The girl I loved more than anything.

I looked at the hollow between her collarbones where the dreamcatcher necklace had been, now lost because of the inter-dimensional travel.

I couldn't breathe, I took my hand off hers. There was no way she needed to know how badly I hurt right now.

Like an evisceration.

She let me. “I'm sorry, Caleb, I just can't do this anymore.”

Jonesy came up behind me, his hand going for my shoulder. I was numb, I could hardly feel the pressure as he cupped it. I knew my parents and Gramps were off somewhere in the periphery but they didn't interfere.

Dimly, I was aware that I wanted to puke again.

Jonesy said in a low voice of rage, “That was fucking cold, Jade.” His eyes moved to where Brett stood behind her.

Her gaze met Jonesy's and she caught a sob in the back of her throat before it could become a wail. Brett came up behind her. “Let's go, Jade.”

I began to shake with rage and Clyde was just suddenly there. He grabbed me when I would have killed Brett. I could taste his death like blood on my tongue. His end sung all around me, and I knew every dead thing within a mile awoke, the tight-wire of my emotion on the same frequency as theirs.

And I don't mean kinda wanted to kill him.

Like. Really. Dead.

“No, Caleb. Hear me. Not here, not now.” Clyde's death essence flowed over me, soothing me. My skin felt like it was beginning to slide off my bones, fissures of flesh without end.

My eyes burned to cry. They bulged with the pressure. They weren't tears of sadness, but those of rage.

I tried to break away from Clyde, and he strapped me against his chest like a second skin.

Brett opened his car door for Jade not three meters away, the sun touching her black hair with blue highlights as it shone in the sun.

Jade reached up with her small hand and gripped the top of the door. Her hoodie sleeve slid backward, revealing an angry welt marring her normally beautiful, coffee-kissed skin.

Star-shaped.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I was numb.

And that was all. My friends and me were all gathered in the hideaway waiting for Garcia to come.

Clyde had never left my side. Gale's eyes, full with sympathy, stayed on my body. Maybe if she took them off me I'd just shrivel up and blow away.

Push me over with a feather.

Jonesy had said that last to Jade then turned away without a backward look. When Brett's car had pulled away, he'd dragged me to mine. Jonesy had taken my thumb and pressed it to the lock.

“I'll drive, Hart,” he said, studying me with eyes that were never serious.

They were grave now.

“Yeah, okay,” I exhaled and inhaled. Just breathing. Just being.

John stepped up behind him. “I'll ride with you guys.”

Jonesy nodded.

I got settled beside him as he drove, his hands out of place on my steering wheel, maneuvering the way to the hideaway with ease.

With practice.

We got out, the others weren't there yet. John unfolded his lanky body from the Camaro, his eyes meeting mine.

The Js and I stared at each other. John shook his head. “Don't do it, Caleb. Not over Jade.”

Jonesy's voice popped into my head, bros before hos man, bros before hos.

I shook my head. I knew there was something inexplicable going on, but it didn't change the reality of where I was at now.

Jade was no longer mine. It didn't matter if it was a Graysheet plot, or whatever the background of the reason, she'd made up her mind.

I looked up at John, who had me by three inches. “She's got that mark, John.”

His brow wrinkled at my words. I waited while he digested that fine morsel. “Oh shit,” he said dejectedly.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“What? ya bozos—share the shit!” Jonesy yelled, breaking my apathy like a stone skipping on a lake, each ripple causing me to awaken like a sleepwalker. I blinked.

Clyde stepped into the circle. He had quietly exited Gale's small smart car. A replica of Mia's.

How'd he fit in there anyway? I thought randomly, my mind a sluggish tide of mud-bound quicksand, slow... sucking me in.

His eyes met mine, and he said something that blew me away, “Jeffrey Parker will help with this, Caleb.”

“Who?” I asked, not remotely getting it.

“He's right, you know,” Jeffrey Parker said, showing up out of the border of trash that was two stories high.

I didn't ask how he found us, how he traversed the gate, the fence. I knew. My eyes went to the zombies. They stared back at me.

I smelled their death.

“They smell. Your zombies smell,” I told him.

He nodded. “Yes.”

I waited.

“I have too many to keep them perfect.”

I leaned forward. “They're draining ya?”

Parker nodded. I didn't know how many I could raise and have it be a problem. Right now, my problem was not doing it. I didn't even want to think about what would happen if I did let my power unravel.

I got a sudden visual of my mom's crazy yarn unraveling like it would when she'd crochet those ugly blankets. Unraveling without end. Without purpose.

I shook it off. Jade was with Brett. She had a star-shaped mark like my crazy judo instructor had.

Like Queen Clara.

Like Garcia.

Things were not looking up. Parker was here with his zombies, and my life was dissolving in front of my eyes.

Clyde stood not one meter from Parker and something struck me like a deep resonating musical note. My chest tightened painfully, breath coming tight in my throat.

Gale came forward.

“We were going to tell you, Caleb. We just didn't know how,” she said nervously.

I looked at Parker, then at Clyde. The zombie he'd never killed, never interfered with. I suddenly knew why. Parker was AFTD like me, Clyde was technically dead. They couldn't hide the fabric of their biology.

They were related.

Parker said, “I see you've figured out my secret, Caleb.”

I gave accusing eyes to Clyde. He shook his head. “I did not know that I had a descendant who lived.” He combed fingers through his hair, his eyes the exact shade of Parker's.

“How does this whacko shit happen?” Jonesy asked, incredulous.

That.

Parker tried to reason with a situation that didn't make sense. He began to speak.

I backed away. “I know what this means, guys. I know.” My eyes searched theirs.

Clyde stepped forward. “We are kin.”

Yeah—but there was something more. When I touched on it I recoiled, my opinion had been set about Parker. There was no way—it couldn't be.

“Did you ever wonder why this zombie responded first? Out of the entire cemetery? Why Clyde and no other? When your gift was new—untried?” Parker allowed me to fit the puzzle pieces together.

They floated disjointed inside my mixed up brain—fried by the emotion of the day—the grief of losing Jade an open and seeping wound.

Raw. “I'm related to you both,” I whispered.

“What the fuck?” Jonesy roared.

Exactly.

“Okay... wait a second,” John began.

Parker held up his hand. “We don't have much time. We need to get you back to Clara's world.”

I was reeling.

He saw the standing question on my face. I couldn't stop thinking about the connection.

“Ask yourself this, Caleb: now that you've saved the sphere-world, how would they get to you, prevent you from interfering? How would they get rid of you without the blame falling on their hands?”

I thought about the marks appearing on Garcia and Jade.

My eyes snapped to Parker's. I whirled where I stood and reached out, grabbing a J in each hand and tore their sleeves up.

They bore star-shaped marks, identical on each. They contrasted, one with pale skin, the other, dark. “Holy shit, they're taking my friends out.” My mind furiously turned around those that were important to me.

Gramps. Mom and Dad. “My parents!” I yelled, turning to the Camaro.

Clyde grabbed me. Held me. “Do not. Listen to Jeffrey's plan. His machinations will put an end to their manipulation.”

Nothing would stop it. I shut my eyes and screamed into the still air of the dump. The dead rippled in response to my raw emotion, a call that was impossible to ignore.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and cool water poured through me, soothing my distress. The dead settled.

I opened my eyes, wrapped in the arms of my dead, and met Parker's eyes. “You stopped them,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Yes.”

“Why are they doing this? Why are they hurting my friends, my family. Jade.”

“If you're distracted enough, you'll die. You'll snap, lose control. You'll do something so irreversible, they'll be compelled to use deadly force to stop you. The Precog has foreseen what you'll be, and the future does not include Graysheets, as you call them.”

The rest of my friends showed up, filing down the dirt road of trash, the sides like heaped hills of decay. Long-forgotten.

Alex clenched his fists. “What the hell is going on here?” He moved toward Parker, all contained strength in motion. And two zombies stepped forward to meet his purposeful charge.

“No,” Parker said.

“Alex,” I croaked out, the enormity of the situation making speech almost impossible.

“Caleb, what's wrong?” Randi asked.

I looked at the couple, as opposite as two people could be. “Parker said we've got to go back to the dome-world.”

Randi's face was pinched, distressed. “Why?”

I gave a narrow look at Parker. “It's that or you guys all go slowly crazy.” Like dominoes falling, I thought, but didn't say.

“Huh?” Tiff said, gumless for once.

“We've been given some kind of drug. Slow-release is my guess,” John said, swiveling his face to look at Parker, who nodded.

“An enhancer?” I asked, straightening as Clyde released me.

Parker nodded. “It is a clever application. This drug uses your hidden insecurities and underlying concerns and magnifies them. Toward the end of the drug's lifespan, it can cause suicidal actions in most.”

Jade, my mind shrieked.

My parents.

The fog of my brain lifted just enough to allow visuals of their smiling faces. My heart squeezed inside of me, my stomach becoming a burning lump.

“Why would they try to make us all go nuts?” Sophie asked a little breathlessly.

Parker gave a tight smile. “Control.”

“Asswipes,” Tiff muttered.

Archer smiled.

“That doesn't explain why we have to do the world-warp thing again,” Mia stated logically as Bry walked up to stand beside her.

She took his hand in hers and his eyes widened.

I saw it all from out-of-body, like I was floating and untethered to my reality.

I turned to Bobbi Gale, her body pressed against Clyde, those dark eyes of hers never leaving me, having never left me.

“They know about the kinship now, Caleb. It makes everything worse. When they found out through DNA testing, your relation to Parker—to Clyde—they flipped. Then the Precog identified your possible future.” Gale had obviously having received the lowdown from Parker.

“What?” John asked, frowning.

Parker sighed and his zombies shifted, their smell wafting in the air. I saw Mia cover her nose.

Parker and I were unfazed. The dead didn't smell any longer. They just were.

“It is the parallel reality. You understand that precept?” Parker nailed Terran with steady eyes.

Terran gave a terse nod. “Of course.”

Of course he would, he was John. John of the mondo brain.

“I began to suspect that Caleb and I were blood relations back that first time. When the government entity I work for wished to acquire you. Study you.” His eyes met mine, then he cast them down, when they rose I saw the shame that infused them, devoid of other emotion. “They've had me since those first trials. They paid my mother some hush money and that was that. I didn't get the placebo.” Parker's lips twisted.

“They took you before you were emancipated?” Archer asked.

Parker rolled his eyes. “You should all understand by now who we're dealing with? They are without scruples. If it advances their goals, nothing will be an obstacle.”

“How are we related?” I asked, curious despite the circumstances.

“Family tree revelation later, Hart,” Jonesy said just when I was on the verge of answers.

I scowled.

He pointed to the livid mark on his forearm, perfectly outlined in an eight-pointed star. “I'd like to be crazy on purpose, bro. Instead of, like—against my will if you feel me.”

Jonesy logic.

His brows rose to his nappy hairline, the tight black cap of hair framing an expressive face. An expectant face.

“It'd getcha outta babysitting, Jones,” Tiff said, smacking gum that had miraculously appeared in her mouth.

Jones frowned at her. “Micah stinks like crap all the time but she's okay.”

A laugh burst out of Tiff.

Jonesy's scowl deepened and he folded his arms. “I'm not going soft, Tiff.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, blowing a screaming pink bubble.

“Okay,” Parker held up a hand to stop the bantering, wearing an expression of disbelief.

I could see where Parker would have some of that but my friends were pretty well inured to events that ranked on the Weird Shit ʼo Meter at this point. On a scale from one to ten, this was like... maybe an eight.

But there was time, oh yes.

Randi, Ms. Inter-dimensional Travel Queen asked the right question, “Right... so, why do we have to go back to the dome-world?”

“Sphere,” John corrected absently.

“Whatever, John!” Tiff said.

“Because, the Zondorae brothers have the antidote to the enhancer. They alone can save your friends. Everyone.”

“Wait a sec,” I held up a finger. “Why didn't they just nail me with the drug. I'd go batshit and everyone would be happy. I'd do myself in and they'd blame it on my,” I thought about it for a sec, “inability to cope with my AFTD.”

Jonesy gave a dark chuckle.

“You're unprecedented AFTD,” Archer added, giving Jonesy a look like get serious.

Like that'd happen.

I nodded to Lewis. Yes, it was that. Whether I liked that distinction or not, it was what it was.

“Because it would be investigated. This was always smoke and mirrors, Caleb. All your friends would go insane, slowly, in different ways depending on their individual weaknesses and insecurities. In this way, it could be blamed on their abilities, not you. It really was a flawless plan.”

We looked at Bry, the only mundane.

He ripped his sleeves up to reveal unmarred skin.

“I'll be damned,” Garcia said, arriving just then and getting a clear look at the smooth muscled forearms that Weller had shown us.

“Not a good position to be in, Dear Sir,” Clyde said with gravity, his light hazel-green eyes holding the wisdom of ages in them. All of it leveled like a laser beam at Garcia.

Garcia's eyes flicked to Clyde's. He swallowed. “You're right.”

Clyde nodded, his studious eyes taking in Garcia's position, noting that he kept a wide berth around the pair.

Garcia's worse possible move would be to come within a meter of Bobbi Gale. Clyde would not take well to that. At all. Even now I could feel his intent swell, contained.

For the moment.

“This won't work, Parker,” Bry said, his tone said, obviously. “We chucked all their nasty shit in the bonfire in that world. The Guys with Gills made sure it got burnt.” He shrugged.

A voice startled the group, Clyde was the only one that didn't jump at the sound of it. Gramps said, “A follow-through set of gents, those?”

I turned to look at him, grinning. “Yeah, Gramps, they got crap done.”

He put his hands on his hips, legs planted wide. “Well good. Nice to know someone does.” He smiled back at me, winked.

His eyes shifted from me to Garcia then finally landed on Parker. “So we're somehow related?”

Parker nodded.

Gramps palmed his chin. “You're not going to take my grandson and do the guinea pig pin test on him?”

Wasn't that voodoo? Whatever, it didn't sound like a fun time.

Parker smiled and shook his head.

Gramps stared at Parker for a long time. Finally, he grunted. “Mr. Weller thinks they don't have anymore of their special juice to neutralize their crazy cocktail, my friend,” he spread his arms wide, the long sleeved shirt he wore, covering one corner of the mark on his arm.

The rest blazed at me from where I stood. Livid and red.

Lethal.

Gramps and I had a swollen pause together, I was putting together what his end was if I didn't get this antidote. He was understanding the pressure I was under.

Something occurred to me. “Wait, how'd they get to everyone,” my eyes flicked to Gramps again, “to Gramps.”

Gramps suddenly grinned, the corner of his eyes crinkling in unfettered joy.

Oh shit.

“Well, they came, and some pieces were left behind.” He winked and I swayed where I stood, feeling my gorge rise in a tight, hot lump.

Everyone started talking at once as I sucked in great wheezing gulps of air that smelled like garbage and a little like death.

I was down with death, it straightened my spine and allowed me to think again, killing the fuzziness that had encroached at the edges of my brain.

Past the visual of Graysheet body parts that littered Grampsʼ yard as they'd tried to traverse his pulse-activated minefield.

The dumbasses.

But some had gotten through. I told him that, my eyes searching his.

He nodded. “Yes, they got through. Some,” he paused, “but not all,” he finished significantly.

Parker looked at Gramps then finally gave me his full attention. “They used a Manipulative.”

Randi covered her mouth. Her arm, like the rest of my friends and family, sporting the new mark. “I've heard of them. They're making a counter-serum to neutralize the ability.”

“Pandora's box,” Archer said in a knowing voice.

“Huh?” Jonesy asked.

“It's that old story about a bunch of people that wanted to find treasure so bad that they opened a forbidden box and got a nasty surprise,” Alex said.

“So, our paranormal ability context keeps expanding and now abilities are cropping up that nobody knows what to do with?” John said rhetorically.

Parker nodded. “Oh—they know what to do with it. With enough money, they can do anything.”

Sophie's lip trembled. “They had a Manipulative in my house? They made me sit there while they stabbed me with their crap?” she nearly wailed.

Jonesy went over and stood next to her.

Girl Meltdown Imminent.

“Asswipes,” Tiff repeated for good measure.

Clyde frowned at her. She looked at my life-like zombie and shrugged.

Unflappable.

“They did. It is extremely effective. However, there are some that are immune to a Manipulative.”

“Who?” I asked.

“A Null,” Parker said and we all looked at John.

He slapped his forehead. “I know when they did it.”

Parker nodded. “They gave you a suppressant, and then, while you lay snoozing,” he mimed depressing a syringe.

“Gawd that's lame,” Jonesy said, rubbing the raised welt on his arm.

“The lamest,” Tiff agreed.

“How do we nail these bastards?” Alex said in a growl.

Parker shook his head. “You mean, how do you save yourselves?”

And Jade, my mind whispered.

I instantly wondered where she was, what she was thinking under the thrall of the slow-moving and insidious chemical that was even now, unraveling her psyche. “Wait!” I said, panicked.

Parker spun.

I asked, “Does this work on everyone the same? How much time do we have?”

Parker shook his head. “No, it's an individual time line. Each person's biological response depends on a lot of factors.”

“Like what?” John asked, his mental wheels spinning.

Parker shrugged. “Mental stability, upbringing—emotional fortitude.”

“So, people who have a stronger... disposition,” I hesitated over the next part, “will, what? Succumb more slowly?”

“That's not a perfect explanation but it's damn close,” Parker said.

“The fragile will spiral quickly?” John clarified with a question.

Parker nodded. “People that have been abused, suffered emotionally—they will be very vulnerable to the progression.”

Gramps and I exchanged a loaded glance. “I know about Jade, Caleb.”

My girl. She was the most fragile of us all.

And she was with Brett. By my own hand.

Gramps strode to me, clamping strong hands on my shoulders. I looked down at him, almost to my adult height. “No son, don't go bonkers now. She needs you.”

Parker interrupted, “Jade won't know that though. She'll feel like she naturally feels whatever way she feels. The ideas she has, and thought processes. Those concepts will evolve naturally as if they were her own. She will respond, think and react irrationally. It will all be based on small insecurities or worries. Not logic. That's been wiped.”

I clenched my teeth together. “I need to get to her.”

Tiff said, “What, you gonna kidnap her?” she asked, not unkindly.

I closed my eyes. What could I do?

“I can get her here,” Sophie said hesitantly.

We all looked at her.

“No, Soph. It's not safe,” Jonesy said. He was thinking like a guy. A protector. He'd already put the loose pieces of Howie Frazier together with Brett Mason like dual cherries on top of the misery cake.

Nice.

Parker cleared his throat, and Logan Tracker literally came out of the woodwork, sliding from between two piles of trash, full of decaying lumber from a demolition.

“Holy effing smokes!” Jonesy yelled. “Could this get any goddamned worse?”

My thoughts exactly.

Sophie and Logan, aka Buddy, looked at each other for a several heartbeats of silence then Sophie's gaze shifted to Parker.

“Forgive me, but I took some liberties.” Parker looked at me.

Well hell yeah, he did.

My friends were Freaking Out.

“I anticipated some of what might happen with Caleb, and I certainly had some foreknowledge of what might happen with Jade.” He shrugged and looked to Sophie. “Tracker will be your guard. You can convince her to come here. She'll need to go with you when you return.”

I wanted her with me. That was a no-brainer. But why couldn't I get the shit, come back to our world then give her a dose?

Parker gave me steady eyes. “She has the least amount of time, Caleb.”

I swallowed past my misery. “How much?”

His gaze surveyed the crew. “Your friends might have a few weeks, some,” his eyes touched on the Weller kids—Jonesy, “somewhat more.”

“And Jade?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

“Days, Caleb.”

“Why me?” I asked in a low voice.

Gramps frowned as Clyde moved forward.

“Do you remember what I said to you upon our first acquaintance?” Clyde's eyes searched mine.

I gave a dull nod.

“To whom much is given, much is expected.”

I can't do this.

“You were given much, Caleb,” he said.

And Parker added to the verbal torture, “what you experience now is critical to who you'll be in the future, Caleb. You must be tested with these experiences to become the man you'll be.”

“Maybe I don't want to be him,” I said in a voice that brooked no argument, drenched with my impotent rage.

“You already are, Caleb. You already are.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jade

Jade moved her hand to her temple again, massaging the tender pain that pulsed there. She'd felt sick for two days and her head swam with disturbing images of suffering and pain.

She would attempt to think in a linear way, and a press of sickening memories and images would wash away her thought processes like water running down glass.

Jade felt muddled. For some reason, Howie was taking her to school every day and she wasn't fighting it. It seemed so much more reasonable to go along with it.

But Jade was frightened. This fog inside her head made her hands shake. They trembled now as she pulsed the lock Caleb had installed on her door that led to the dungeon where she lived within the bowels of the Frazier home.

The last two nights Howie had waited until his parents were drinking at the local tavern and his soft rapping on the door had been replaced by his foot kicking it.

She remembered the first night with perfect recall.

“Jade,” Howie used his big knuckles to hit the door, their hollow banging causing the metal of the door to echo. “Let me in, let's talk,” he'd said in conspirator’s tones.

Her hand had hovered over the lock, her mind in a fog of swirling confusion. Jade knew there was some kind of warning here, she just couldn't think of it. All she could think of was her dead father's words about how bad of a girl she was.

How slutty.

How dirty.

Jade licked her dry lips, her fingers caressing the locking pulse mechanism, her thumb hovering dangerously close to release.

But Howie said the words that made the pain stab relentlessly in her head. He slapped his open palm against the metal of the door. “Open this goddamned lock, you bitch!” he yelled through the metal slab, his palm's impact lifting her forehead away from the cool surface where it'd been resting.

Jade backed away, his words following her no matter where she went in the room. A soft whimper slipped from between her lips as the pain bloomed like a sickening flower inside her head.

“That cocksucker boyfriend of yours isn't here to save your ass. It's me that you need, Jade. Not some pretty boy like Hart. Me,” he slapped the metal and the door shuddered, “ME!” He began kicking it at the base and the metal rippled and squealed in protest.

Please hold, Jade thought.

Please.

And on the heels of her muddled consciousness she had a small hope flare.

Caleb.

Then Jade remembered that she'd let him go.

She couldn't remember why now. It seemed... vague—soft. When she tried to grab hold of the reason, it slipped through her fingers like smoke through a gap.

Brett

––––––––

Off in the distance Brett Mason felt the echo of Jade's feelings and shot straight up in his bed. Their inadvertent connection bound them together. He felt her fear, her confusion. He didn't know the cause of the latter but he knew the fear well.

He'd felt it many times in the past. As fists rained down on his body, as words pierced his mind.

Brett threw his shit on, hopping to the windowsill. He balanced expertly on the edge, jumping the three meters to the dead grass below, his foot kicking up dirt from a gopher mound.

He smiled without being aware, his memory bank supplying the one person that had ever stood up for him beside Jade.

Caleb Hart. Brett hated him, but he admired him too. The whole thing was a warped fucking mess. Oh well, shit happens.

And then ya die.

Brett raced to Jade's house. He'd beat Frazier until he wasn't standing. Nobody was gonna ever hurt Jade again. Not like he'd been hurt. He wouldn't let it happen.

After all, he loved her.

He always had.

“You've got to be kidding me?” I couldn't believe it.

“I'm not. You've got to find one of the brothers, stab him with this.” Parker held up a small device that had many small “teeth” embedded on it.

A collection disc.

I'd seen a buttload of those things in the med clinics. They took blood and other bodily crap.

“We gotta collect their piss or something?” Jonesy's nose puckered.

“No, it's a blood collection extractor,” John answered him.

Parker nodded.

“That's a relief,” Tiff commented dryly.

“Yeah, so easy to collect, Parker!” Bry threw up his hands, frustrated.

“Nah, we'll get it,” Alex said with certainty, and Randi batted her eyelashes.

Geez. I put my hand up. “Why their blood?”

“It's the ultimate security. No matter what happened to the drug, the deactivation code remains embedded in their blood.”

“WTF? The sleazeballs!” Jonesy said, kicking a tin can, causing it to skitter into the gloom of the twilight.

Parker nodded. “Dumping them off to be dealt with by the...” He glanced at me.

I filled in the word, “fragment.”

He lifted his chin. “Yes. It was clever but now you'll have to find them, get a sample of their blood, combine it with this,” he pulled a small vial out of his pocket, and swirled the amber-colored fluid that was inside, “and administer one drop under the tongue of everyone present.”

“Ah...” Bry raised a hand.

“Except you.”

“Right,” he said, muttering, “I knew it was cool to be a mundane.”

I didn't know about that. His sister had gotten nailed. Maybe they only needed to do in one Weller brain.

“Why can't one of us guys go with Soph? Why does Tracker get to go? He's a proven lying sack ʼo shit.” Jonesy's eyes narrowed on Tracker.

He moved forward.

Jonesy's hands clenched into fists, “Wanna go, ya dick hole?”

“Yeah, I do.” Logan said, moving toward him.

Parker inclined his head and the zombies sprinted to the two, pulling them apart before they could start in on each other.

Parker said, “Get a hold of it, Tracker. Forget the girl. She's a target, that's it. You volunteered for this assignment after your lengthy punishment. So don't do anything to screw this up.”

Tracker elbowed one of the zombies in the gut and a smell of decay swelled over the area. It hissed, clamping down on Tracker and he grunted.

“It's just a love clench now, Logan. You know what their potential is.” Parker raised his brows.

Logan nodded reluctantly, throwing Parker a glare.

I knew.

The zombie released Tracker, hissing as he did.

Friendly bunch.

Parker looked at Jonesy. “Tracker is a trained agent. He is a sixth belt in Karate, he understands and can execute hand to hand combat with exactness. Some teenage boys aren't going to deter him from his goal. Which is?” Parker promoted, cocking a brow in Logan's direction.

“Acquisition of Jade LeClerc, protection of Sophia Morris.”

Tears rolled down Sophie's cheeks in strangled tendrils of water.

Logan and Jonesy glared at each other as her tears fell to the soft dirt at everyone's feet. Dampening the ground with her sadness.

“You boys understand what's at stake here?” Parker asked.

Gramps answered for us all, “Yeah, I think we've got the lowdown. Now stop jawing and get that girl. I, for one, want to shut these jag-ups down.”

“Forever,” I said, echoing his thoughts.

****

Jade

Jade ran from one end of her sparse room to the other, lifting and looking through her books, her pink pack that Caleb had gotten her a year ago for her birthday. Her room was a slob fest. She hadn't kept it neat like normal, she'd been so slow—confused.

Not at the moment. With Howie trying to beat her door down, she had one thing on her mind.

Pulse Sophie. She could get help.

Even now, as she found her pulse and wrapped her hand around its cool shiny pink exterior she could feel Brett moving toward her.

But Howie was crazy.

And he wasn't a mundane.

He was that new thing. Jade rummaged through her addled brain. Ah! She remembered now.

A Manipulative.

He'd just been categorized. An ability so dangerous, he was in a class by himself, and taught by a powerful, five-point Null. He could not make Jade do his bidding with just his voice.

But if he touched her, she would be putty in his hands. Her Empath nature would act as a a natural complement to his directives.

All of them.

Brett would be similarly vulnerable. She needed to get a message to Sophie.

Jade depressed the thumb pad even as she felt Brett enter the house, his emotional signature, linked to her as she had tried to slip from this world almost a year ago, a pulse all its own.

High Emotive Response

Jade's hands shook as she thought Sophie's contact pulse signature.

Do you require medical or emergency response? Emergency Auto Protection Response.

Shall we pulse 911 on your behalf? Emergency Auto Protection Response.

Of course, Jade thought, my pulse will activate it. She was relieved. Maybe she wouldn't have to screw with bugging Sophie.

Jade jumped when Howie's foot slammed into the door again, a dent bowing the door into a grotesque lump of metal on her side.

Her anxious eyes traveled back to her pulse, the luminescent green characters floating into the familiar configuration used to contact a recipient. Her knuckles whitened with the exertion of her grip, the etched hearts on the surface biting into her palm.

Yes- Jade LeClerc

initializing.

emergency response intercept.

Jade brows drew together in confusion, she shook the pulse.

emergency response [national security] intercept.

emergency response fail.

Jade looked at her pulse for a heartbeat and realized that not all was what it seemed. She scratched the irritating mark on her arm and pulsed Sophie.

For some reason her pulse wasn't going through to 911.

It was supposed to go through no matter what.

Jade swiped her thumb and thought: new contact.

Top Five Contact- BFF

initializing

Sophia Morris- BFF

Jade watched anxiously as the characters came together and solidified. Howie's foot pounded a staccato rhythm on the door.

Rat-a-tat-tat.

She looked at the door, her hair flying in front of her face, she looked back at her pulse, swinging it behind her shoulder.

initializing

contact failure.

Jade's head whipped up as she heard footsteps on the stairs, then scuffling.

Brett had arrived.

Jade couldn't contact anyone for help.

Her pulse had been neutralized.

By who, her mind screamed inside her cotton-filled head.

By who?

Sophie looked at Caleb, then Parker. “I can't get her!” she relayed anxiously.

I moved toward her, grabbing her pulse. I used my thumb and depressed it on her unlocked catalog.

I thought, Jade LeClerc.

Pulse History:

BFF initialized, contact failed.

[national security intercept]

My eyes snapped to Parker. “They're already involved.” Then, “Jade's in trouble.”

I showed him the pulse intercept.

“Damn,” is all Parker said. “You'll have to decide what to do, Caleb. They want Jade taken down. Out.” His eyes searched mine.

That wasn't gonna happen.

“We're five miles out, Caleb,” Bry said, intuiting my thought processes, running a hand over his skull trim.

I looked at Clyde, then Tiff. “Come here, we've got to save Jade.”

“What, like remote, Hart?” Jonesy asked.

I looked at him and nodded as Bry and Mia started up their respective cars to get to the Frazier house.

“We can do it together, Caleb,” Parker said.

“I'll raise every dead thing in Kent,” I said.

My eyes bored into his.

“And I'll control them,” he responded.

With my power and his control, we'd stave off the mess that was tightening around Jade like a hangman's noose. But I'd be using the dead again. And they weren't a weapon of choice. I'd made the decision long ago.

They were always a weapon to me.

Bry's car smelled like a noxious and poisonous cloud of fumes, choking us as we piled in the back.

Me, Parker, Tiff and Bry rode, with Gramps in shotgun.

The zombies were en route. They were inhumanly strong. The ones we'd raised that were lifelike were just as fast. I tried not to think about the lone person that might see the zombies sprinting toward Valley Keys.

Parker, who had been my nemesis but a scant two years ago, had become a savior of sorts.

A relative. My mind put together that our shared AFTD was less coincidence and more a wedding of genetics than any of us could have realized. Clyde was no accidental raising but a genetic signature that had linked us. When my novice power had stroked the dead underneath the hallowed ground of Scenic Cemetery over two years ago on that fateful night, Clyde had answered.

Predestination.

Parker grasped my hand as Tiff took the other and my power sighed in an exhaustive gasp of intense relief in one tense burst. The death energy caused Jeffrey Parker to seize in my grip.

Tiff's rolled her eyes up in her head until the whites showed.

I pushed everything I had toward the dead I figured would respond without hesitation.

As near to Jade as I could get them.

Skopamish

Consciousness returned to the chief of the Skopamish like an arrow that had found its mark.

His eyes surged open as dirt filled the wetness therein.

Earth suffused his nose, his mouth—he could not see, breathe.

Yet, he lived.

Because not one, but two Masters called him from his place of rest.

The war cry had been issued as a terse battle alarm and he responded.

His body was torn from the ground and set upright by invisible strings of death, strung to his body from a great distance, the dirt fell away like brown clumps of rain.

He knew the taste of the call, he had felt it upon his tongue before.

It was the Master of Death. He had delivered him up for battle once more.

The call began to wash over him in a sickening cloak of life. The Chief of the Skopamish bowed underneath its power.

When he could finally stand, he looked at his body and found it whole. A pulse beat underneath the flesh at his throat. His warpaint lay bright against his coffee-colored skin, his feathers stood straight and true.

He clenched his dominant hand around his knife hilt, feeling the weight of his tomahawk against his hip and the muscles in his body reacted reflexively.

The chief opened his mouth and let the shrill war cry sound in the still air of dwellings that lay dark and unused.

He turned as his brethren closed their mouths with a snap, the echo of their cry synchronized with his perfectly. Their tomahawks glinted savagely in the artificial light cast by strange poles which stood high above him, having captured small suns behind a hard surface which was clear like frozen water.

His eyes reflected black in the whitish blue lights cast by the LED street lights, the pulse-activation automated for commencement as night approached.

Twilight became night with a gasp, and with it the connection of death and all that death entailed.

The Chief of the Skopamish moved toward the dwelling which housed a female of the tribe who was in danger.

This one had been in danger before. The white man did not honor the women of the tribe.

Honor could be taught, the Chief mused. He was most glad to teach those lessons if needed.

They moved with purposeful stealth between houses that were tended without pride and reverence in accordance with nature.

The disrespect to his Mother Earth was a grinding insult upon his senses.

The Skopamish drove forward, the command thrummed through their brains in time to their heartbeats.

They beat strongly within their newly fashioned bodies.

“Your power is in harmony with mine,” Parker breathed out in the cramped confines of the car.

“Does it matter that we're related?”

He nodded. “To work that seamlessly, yeah. It matters.”

Tiff was passed out, she'd been so overwhelmed by our combined power her body had effectively shut her down.

I felt for her pulse and it beat strong and steady underneath my fingers. “She's okay.”

Bry screeched to a sudden halt in front of Howie's house. He turned around and got a load of Tiff, conked out. “She okay?” Bry asked.

When I told him she was, he grunted. Not always a bad thing, having Tiff out of the way.

I spied Brett's hoodie on the sidewalk and knew he'd stripped it off for a reason. Mobility, freedom in motion. Delivering a beating without encumbrance.

I didn't want to owe any more debt to Brett Mason. I already owed more that I could repay.

We threw ourselves out of the car, Gramps bringing up the rear.

I could hear grinding metal and hinges popping away from their hold.

We poured through the front door, hanging askew, courtesy of Brett.

I was starting to like him despite myself.

Jade felt the reverberation as the door finally gave.

Howie burst through, slapping the metal against the cinderblock walls of the basement. She fled deeper into the corner of the room, her gaze locked with his.

“Come here, little girl,” he said.

Jade felt the weight of his command even as it slid off her. The partial immunity her Empathic gifts afforded her would soon bend the instant he made physical contact.

She grabbed the nearest object within reach, a snowglobe—give to her by her dead mother. She heaved it at his thick skull. She watched the crystal globe spin in the air, the snowflakes within like a blizzard as it whirled toward his head. Howie leaned out of the way and the base nicked his temple then shattered as it hit the wall behind his head.

The figurines inside lay in a broken heap on the concrete floor.

Like she'd be if he got ahold of her.

Jade's eyes widened as he charged her, his temple oozing blood from where the sharp plastic base of the globe had caught his flesh.

Brett tried to shake off the dizziness. That bastard had clocked him a good one.

He used the cold concrete on either side to help him stand. He shook his head like a dog and lifted his chin just in time to see Frazier run at Jade.

Brett was weary but not beaten. He had survived far worse than this at the hands of his asshole dad.

Frazier was nothing. Less than nothing, he thought.

Brett wouldn't let him hurt Jade. Even now her terror choked him. Adrenaline surged as he sprung off the last step, flinging himself Superman style at Howie as he came for Jade.

He threw his arms out from his body and landed in the center of Howie's back, the momentum bringing them both down.

Howie turned as Brett began tearing into his face with his fists.

Jade screamed in the background.

Howie put up his hands and opened his mouth. What he said next Brett was compelled to do.

Brett had never wanted to do anything less in his life.

“Get off me and stand up!”

Brett did.

Howie smiled and looked over his shoulder, seeing that Caleb Hart and a whole shitload of other people were coming and he reacted instantaneously, instinctively.

He reached behind him and yanked that uptight bitch into his body. He pressed Jade against him and felt his body respond to her nearness.

Howie'd love to force her. The thought made saliva flood his mouth. No time for that now, he grumped. Instead, time was his enemy so Howie ground her small wrist bones together, the contact cementing her cooperation and said, “Do Brett Mason, now.”

Calling for a distraction of epic proportions, Howie struck the Manipulative command like a punch into the center of her chest.

Jade recoiled from the strength of it, the inference. She gasped and turned, her body losing its smoothness, and jerkily reacting without her express will as tears streamed down her face.

Jade launched herself at Brett.

Brett saw Jade come, frustration on her face, fear—and something else. He had just enough time to pierce Howie with a look.

What the fuck was going on?

Then Jade was on him, winding her slim arms around his neck, pressing her perfectly small body against his. Her vanilla fragrance wafted around him. She climbed his body and pressed her lips to his.

He opened his mouth to ask a question and her tongue was in it.

Brett was lost to her.

The thing he had wanted most in life had wrapped herself around him like a spider.

Before the fly.

Brett didn't notice Howie's self-satisfied smirk, he was buried by Jade.

Howie knew what this would do to Hart.

It'd tear him apart. He'd get rid of a bunch of problems at one time.

Perfect.

Howie watched Jade LeClerc move against Brett as if she'd done it a hundred times. He could feel her resistance and he poured more power into the original command and she whimpered in response.

So unwilling. Howie smiled with a sigh.

He scratched his forearm where a raised welt had appeared a couple of days ago. Damn thing, it was driving him crazy.

Brett snapped his arms around Jade and fell backward against the wall, holding her slight weight around his waist by her thighs. He turned her around and pressed her into the concrete, grinding back into her as she did with him. When she gave a soft whimper of distress he took it for pleasure and captured it with his mouth.

His tongue.

Something nagged at the edge of his psyche, spearing his lust. Howie's command effortlessly flowing from Jade to him. He wasn't sure what it was but when Caleb Hart appeared he knew what he didn't want.

Interruption.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I raced down the steep concrete steps that led to Jade's crappy room, hearing her screams.

Then they abruptly cut off.

I burst through the opening where a door hung off one hinge and my stomach fell into my feet.

Brett had Jade in a firm hold, backed up against a wall, dry-humping her for all he was worth.

Something shifted in my head and my rage became liquid. Lava erupted from the volcano of my emotions.

It was her soft whimper that made my head pound with an instant headache. The dead at my back surged forward, responding to my emotional avalanche instantly. Fire seared my veins, and I moved toward the two with purpose.

I never saw Howie.

But he saw me; he'd planned it perfectly. He knew how I'd react, and I didn't disappoint. He'd been waiting in the shadows of the room and hit me in the head with a spare piece of lumber, hidden in the recesses of one of the corners.

I literally saw stars, slumping to the ground, my head spinning like a top. I watched from the ground, my girlfriend making out with Brett like she wanted it and felt like I'd be sick, powerless to do anything. The barf just rose in my throat when John leaped forward, covering Randi's ears and I heard Howie scream into the stillness of the scene, “Kill each other!”

As bruised and stupid as I was, I tried to rise to do his bidding, his compulsion was so powerful it intensified my headache.

And along with that, my rage.

Terran dragged Randi backward, unaffected by Howie.

Howie, I realized too late, was a Manipulative.

Effing spectacular. Weren't they springing up everywhere like nasty-ass weeds, was my incoherent thought.

John, with his Null-ness was immune, and had put the situation together instantly. John lifted his hands off her ears and held Randi's face as everyone began pounding each other. I noticed Sophie and Tiff were really going at it.

No surprise there.

“Get us out of here!” he screamed over the carnage, the noise of the fighting a dull roar in my ears.

I was on all fours, shaking my head to clear it, my eyes pegged on Brett and Jade as I began to rise. I could taste his death on my tongue, my head was swamped with it. Every zombie that was mine began moving toward him with deliberate purpose. My purpose now had focus through Howie's directive.

I was not immune.

Randi understood what John had told her to do and pressed her eyes shut just as Howie realized his ass was grass. Whatever sick plan he'd had failed.

We blinked out of existence in our world and fell smoothly into the other.

Queen Clara's sphere world.

The problem with that was Randi, in her acute panic, wasn't selective. The whole damn posse went. Parker, the zombies, my friends, Gramps—and Howie.

We hurtled through the dark vastness of that space where it felt like our flaming bodies were pelted by sleet and landed in the middle of Outside in Clara's world.

But it was not the same time we had left, and the circumstances had changed.

Oh, had they.

****

Bodies lay around the field scattered like so much flesh and clothes.

My eyes automatically sought Jade. I couldn't find her.

I tore myself up by sheer will, fighting the puke for the second time in so many minutes.

The zombies were already standing, looking at me and a point behind my left shoulder.

Parker.

I turned and faced where he was.

He hugged the ground like a lover, his head pressed against it. I ran to where he was, slipping twice, vertigo trying to claim my equilibrium. I made it, gripping his elbow and hauling him up.

We swayed together for a moment then he leaned away from me suddenly.

Parker bent over and sprayed chunks into the tall grass, the sun just rising here in this world.

“Caleb!” Randi shouted across the wide-open space. I turned and saw my zombies squaring off with a group of dudes. I knew these guys.

The fragment.

Shit-in-a-sack.

It hadn't taken them any time to find us. Weak, shaken and disoriented from the travel, we were vulnerable to their assault.

Parker's zombies reached for their assault rifles.

Then realized they didn't have any weapons. It was comical. They ran their large hands over the spot where they should have been and balled their empty hands into fists.

Those guys were so resourceful. No weapons—no problemo.

Clyde came to stand beside us as Parker straightened. “That sucked,” he said, wiping the back of his sleeve against his mouth.

His all-black ensemble had suffered with the Puke as an Accessory.

I smiled. He was right. I was getting over the effects of the travel. Clyde never took his eyes off the group of fragment. “Where did the young woman take us?”

“Somewhere else.” My eyes swept the area for Jade then, reluctantly, Brett. My eyes were flying over the bodies that were mostly standing now, some were puking, some were fine. I spotted John and breathed a little easier.

“Clearly, Master,” Clyde said, peeved.

Bobbi Gale said, her stance alert and ready, “Where, Caleb? I'm not wanting the twenty questions!”

“Randi is a Dimensional.”

“Great! So we're in some other world?”

I nodded. “It's a long story,” I said, giving her serious eyes and continued, “but those guys,” I pointed to the advancing fragment, “are the bad guys.”

Bobbi looked at the ragged but tough-looking group that were making steady progress straight for them and thought Caleb might be on to something.

“How bad?” she whispered.

“Very.” I began walking into the middle of the teens in the hopes of getting to Jade.

Brett had Jade wrapped against his body when he woke up in a strange place. His eyelids cracked open, his stomach rolling around in a hot wave of gonna barf. They were in the middle of a field or something.

The air was the freshest he'd ever smelled. It was somewhere between crisp forest and wheaten pasture. He forced his stomach to settle, breathing deeply. He pulled Jade closer against him and pushed the hair away from her face tenderly, kissing her temple.

She woke up and gasped. “What are you doing, Brett?”

Jade utterly undid him, her eyes were so beautiful, like emerald fire.

“Kissing you,” Brett said, thinking that'd been pretty damn obvious.

“Don't,” she said, shoving at him.

What the hell is this? She was crawling into his mouth five minutes before—Yeah? What happened? He did a quick scan of their surroundings, sitting up, his hand clamped around her tiny wrist. Jade wasn't going anywhere till he figured out what the fuck was going on.

Brett saw a group of freaks cominʼ their way and hauled Jade up, shoving her behind him protectively.

They had makeshift weapons. Some he recognized, others he didn't. His eyes searched the kids and the creepers that Hart had somehow managed to bring with him. Where was that dick hole, Frazier? Where'd that bastard lurked off to now?

“Are you goddamned delusional, Mason?” Jonesy asked as he moved toward him, his fist raised to deck him when Hart interrupted, “No, let me.”

Then Hart was barreling into him and he was fighting for all he was worth.

For himself.

For the girl he wanted more than his own life.

All I could think of was Brett with his hands on Jade. It didn't matter that she'd dumped me, that most likely she dumped me under the influence of the enhancer.

He. Had. His. Hands. On. Her.

I pounded a good one in his face and he kicked out in a move so novice, I could've deflected it in my sleep. But I was all rage-driven and felt it graze my nuts and I grunted, my hands cupping my package.

He shoved me off and kicked me in the ribs.

I flipped over and used the instep of my foot to take out his knee. He shrieked in agony.

That move hurt like a bitch.

Clyde grabbed the back of Brett's shirt and mine and jerked us off our feet, four hundred pounds between the two of us, like we were a couple of bowling balls instead of two almost full-grown men.

Zombie strength. But his eyes blazed human pissed off at that moment.

“They come!” shake-thrash-teeth rattle, “We do not have sufficient time for fisticuffs!”

What?

I craned my head and noticed while I was all over the top of Brett, the fragment had begun to wade into our zombies, hacking at them as they came, their primitive weapons plenty effective.

And we only had five zombies here.

I recognized what the Skopamish looked like to the fragment. What had Queen Clara called them?

The Red Men.

The Chief turned and looked at me for a command. I gave him the one I knew best, my balls throbbing like I'd be sick again.

Kill them, I thought.

He turned smoothly, in a move so choreographed it looked like he was dancing, reaching for the tomahawk that was no longer there.

Oh shit.

The weapons. All the weapons had been lost to the travel.

We were completely defenseless.

Clyde lowered us to the ground and the Indians gave a shrill war cry, the three against many, their bare hands the only weapons at their disposal.

It might be enough, they were the walking dead after all.

Parker's bodyguard zombies started taking the fragment apart by hand, beating them as they came for them. The flesh of their knuckles sloughing off even as Parker's will re-knitted it to perfection before our eyes.

But there were simply too many.

Clyde asked as he rolled up his sleeves, his suit jacket folded neatly on a nearby boulder, “What do these marauders want?”

“The women. They're rare here. They'll kill every male and take the girls.”

“Not this male,” he stated like he was talking about the weather.

We looked at each other.

We agreed on that.

I glanced Brett's way, his chest was heaving, the weight off the leg that I'd abused. Hell... I needed him and I'd incapacitated him.

I was gettinʼ an F for sure in Reactive Management. “Where's Howie?” I yelled at Brett over the noise.

“Don't know!”

Great.

Jade came to me like we'd never been apart, her large green eyes filled with apprehension, she opened her mouth to speak but I had to shove her behind me as the first of the fragment came within range, his eyes pinned on her with greed.

With lust.

Screw that blowhard.

Gale began beating the hell out of the one that came closest to her.

Clyde slammed two heads together and they split apart, brain matter splattering everything within a meter from the force of the blow. He heaved their bodies to the side like so much trash and snarled as one of the men of the fragment grabbed hold of Gale's hair, and she screamed as it was torn out of her scalp.

She brought her elbow up and swung it with precision at the one who advanced on her, breaking his nose at the same time she rammed her head into hair-puller who was behind.

Clyde took both hands and latched onto the male who had his hands laced in Gale's hair. He jerked down with every ounce of the undead strength that he possessed and I felt the pull of it through our connection and grunted.

Clyde separated the dude's arm from the socket. Blood burst out of the open hole where his arm had been attached and sprayed another of the fragment as he moved in to maim. Clyde turned smoothly and plugged him in the jaw with the severed arm, using the ball joints like a sledgehammer, causing the fragment to pinwheel backwards into two more that bore down right behind him.

“Righteous, Clyde!” I heard Jonesy shriek as he got clocked by a fragment who looked like he was going to bring down a weapon that looked suspiciously like a crowbar on his head.

Not to worry, Tiff spit out a wad of gum, biting the guy who had the crowbar in the forearm. He shrieked and dropped the weapon. Jonesy was stunned for a moment but the guy backhanded Tiff and that woke Jonesy up. She hung on, tears and snot leaking out of her from the blow, her arms hanging on for dear life.

Jonesy drove his fist like a hammer in the guy's beak and he folded. It'd been a direct hit.

Tiff fell away from him like a perfect leaf off a tree.

John caught her and gently lowered her to the ground. Jade screamed, “Caleb!”

I turned and in an intuitive move I didn't know I possessed, I ducked and a small sword sailed over my head, the breeze of it passing through my hair. I punched out without thinking at whatever was in front of me and connected with a lean gut, toughened by the life of Outside. A great whoosh of breath belched out and then the males were all over us like ants.

They dragged the girls into a circle, kicking and screaming. Alex roared when one of them cuffed Randi and her small body fell to the ground. He ran toward them but one put a knife to her neck, the point of it drawing a crimson drop, the essence running down her neck to pool at the hollow in her throat. She gave him wide eyes, her hair knotted in the fist of the one who held the blade at her throat.

“Don't come to her aid, Band,” he said, eyeing Alex.

Alex looked at me in confusion.

I responded, “Remember?”

They mistook him for Band. Rightfully so, as he was somehow related to them. Minus the gills.

His shoulders slumped in defeat. They were using the girls against us.

Gramps, Clyde and the zombies came to stand behind me. The fragment grabbed the rest of the girls, knives or other sharpened weapons brutality jammed at the tender spot under their chins. Identical expressions gazed back at us.

Fear.

Ours were worse. If I'd had a mirror, I would have seen my expression and recognized it immediately for it what it was.

Mine had moved smoothly over into terror.

Then as the group of fragment parted, I saw who came to stand amongst them.

The Zondorae brothers.

Wasn't this special?

Should've killed them when I had the chance, I thought without a drop of mercy.

Joe stepped forward, his grim face beginning a slow smile that overtook his face instantly. He was so pleased with himself. The self-satisfied prick.

He had eyes only for Parker. “Parker.”

“Joe,” Parker responded neutrally.

He looked over the group, his eyes resting briefly on the captured girls: Mia, Randi, Jade, Tiff and Sophie. Their eyes were wide and frightened.

Check that, Tiff's eyes were narrowed and pissed.

I smirked.

His gaze passed over the zombies; both Parker's and mine. He missed Clyde and then his eyes briefly traveled over Gale, and Clyde hissed, giving himself away neatly.

Humans didn't usually do that.

Zombies did.

It was second nature. Like eating brains.

Yum-yum.

Joe Zondorae's eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Gramps and the guys from the group. Brett limped over to stand beside the rest of my friends.

Howie was still a no-show. That kinda nagged at me, I wasn't gonna self-delude on that. I wanted that asswipe in my sights.

Gary Zondorae looked at Randi and her eyes got even bigger in her small face. He palmed his chin and said to Joe, “She needs to sleep.”

“Yes, she does.” His eyes flicked to Alex and he said something to five males of the fragment and they sprinted to where Alex stood.

They'd underestimated him.

It took ten.

Ten men of the fragment to hold a berserk Alex down while they shot Randi up with something. Some kind of sedative.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her coal black hair falling away from her face like a fragile curtain.

Alex roared into the sky while the fragment struggled to contain him.

“We took your supplies,” I said to them.

“Do you seriously believe that we had everything we would ever need on our person?” Joe asked, jabbing a thumb in his chest for emphasis.

Gary cocked arrogant eyebrows above hard eyes. “Who do you think Tucker received his ideas from? His whispered principles? The raw material necessary to eradicate the genetic problem of the spheres?”

“Who are these jack-wagons?” Gramps folded his arms, legs planted wide as he studied the pair.

I loved that Gramps didn't question where in the blue hell we were. Immaterial to him. We were here and it was time to deal.

“Graysheet scientists,” I replied.

Gramps grunted in displeasure. “Have you been holding out on your grandpa, boy?” His brows were an angry line above his eyes.

Wow, great timing, Gramps.

Gary laughed. “You don't know the half of it, old man.”

Gramps scowled. “If you're feelinʼ froggy, go ahead and jump on my lily pad.” His hands curled into fists at his side.

Gary backed up a step then realized how it made him look and took it back. “You don't intimidate me. This is our world now. The fragment,” he swept his palm out and away from his body. “We rule here now. And your grandson and his imbecilic friends facilitated that.”

Gramps frowned. “The how and why don't matter. You're here and we've come for something.”

“No Gramps!” I said.

The brothers looked at us. When they saw what they were looking for they smiled.

“Got out of hand, did you?” Gary asked me.

Parker sighed.

Gary looked at him. “You know all is fair in love and war, right Parker? What did you think was going to happen when you sent your pet into another world after us. Did you think you could stall us in our endeavors? That we wouldn't have made the provision for a contingency plan of some sort?” He shrugged, shaking his head indulgently.

“They've been given the enhancers, I see,” Joe said, noting the welts on everyone's arms.

“You'll be fine for a little while here, then the process will speed. Time moves differently in this world. Always forward, but at a different rate. What would have been weeks of stability will now degrade to days. Those of you that had days, it'll be hours. And,” he held up a finger and smiled, “there is no cure!”

Gary slapped his hands together. “Now then, we've delivered the news of your fate and you're stuck here because your Dimensional is,” he looked at Randi, who was mumbling and incoherent, “indisposed at the moment.” His gaze locked with Parker's. “You didn't help anything, you just signed their death warrants.”

He looked at me. “Especially him.” He drilled me with his eyes. “We don't need any C-Ms here in this world. And two,” he looked at Parker and me, “is two too many.” He winked and inclined his chin, the signal for the fragment to move in.

There had to be a hundred. They swarmed around our party.

When they moved to take Jade I felt that warm slide of rage in my head and she cried out at the rough treatment. And when the male of the fragment punched her in the stomach the rage moved to something that knew no bounds, its searching tendrils of smoke reaching out, out... out, until it found what it needed.

They came, jerking in response to the hook of death, the net catching them all like a school of fish.

All.

I felt the dead awaken, all the dead from everywhere. I lifted my hands above my head, the pulse of their movement was an unseen thread that coiled inside me, its spool of function perfectly synchronized to my call.

“Caleb watch out!” I turned and something hit me perfectly in the head. I swayed as I heard Gramps yelling at someone.

And then there was silence and peace.

A black so absolute no light survived it.

It swallowed me into inky oblivion as I lost the last link of my consciousness to the sucking obsidian vortex.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I awoke puking.

It was a total theme. When there was nothing left in my stomach, and the roaring stopped in my ears, I could hear John talking to someone.

A someone that held my head in her hands. The gentle touch was the only thing that kept my head from spinning off into the distance.

“He's got a concussion,” I heard Terran say.

Yeah, I had something. My damn head felt like a rhino had used it as a trampoline.

“What do ya mean? They knocked his brain loose?” Jonesy asked logically.

John sighed.

I opened my eyes, a cool washcloth pressed on my mouth and I grabbed the wrist that used it, staring up into a scared young woman with dark eyes and hair.

“Caleb, cool it!” Jonesy yelled and I winced.

“Inside voice, dipshit,” Tiff said.

“Right,” he said, scrubbing his head. “Don't hurt her, man, she stopped the bleeding.”

What bleeding?

John saw my expression. “You were bleeding out your nose. Pretty sure that fragment caused your brain to swell.”

Alex, who was shackled soundly said, “But, no worries, that dude won't be bludgeoning anyone else.”

I looked at him and he continued, “Your grandpa beat him to death with the weapon he used on you, man.”

I sat up too quickly. The room spun.

The young woman put both her hands on the sides of my face and the room settled.

“Is he okay? Gramps?” The faces in the room looked around anxiously. Archer finally said, “Don't know, they beat him pretty bad. And he's not getting the organic treatment.”

“What?” I asked, my eyes moving back to the girl.

“Yes, that's what she is,” Mia began.

“She's this world's version of an Organic,” Sophie added.

I stood, leaning against the inside wall, made of rough-cut wood, the splinters biting into my palm.

I took in my surroundings, all the while the girl's hands remained on me. I looked down at her, her smallness striking me. She reminded me vaguely of Jade.

Jade.

My eyes scanned the inside of the dimly lit building, light filtering through the stout boards and found her within the circle of Brett's arms. She gazed back at me like the last two years had never been.

“Jade...” I moved forward.

John grasped my arm, the Organic's hands falling away, and with them, that sense of healing dissipated and the pain of my head injury slammed back into me. I bent over, groaning and she was just suddenly there.

“Do not, young sir. You have been grievously wounded. If you would but stay still a mite longer, I would see you restored.” Her eyes, which I had mistaken for brown, were actually the deepest midnight blue, almost black, dark sapphires.

“I have to get to Jade,” I said.

Jade shook her head, her dark hair falling like black water around her sides, some of it getting stuck in the crevices of Brett's jacket.

My pulse began to pound and my old friend Rage made an appearance.

I was going to put a hurt on someone.

John fell into my line of sight between Jade and I. “Listen, Caleb—she's gone. The enhancer has an accelerated response in some. And in this world, worse.”

My eyes flicked up to his. “What about you, pal?”

He shook his head and showed me the welt. It had begun to heal, the swelling and redness-gone. I felt my face frown. “I don't think they were really certain about the reactiveness of it all.” He shrugged. “Me being a Null must metabolize it differently. I feel nothing.”

“What about everyone else?”

He shrugged. “It's different with everyone. I think the girls are getting hit hardest.”

I moved John aside and the Organic moved with me. I turned and looked at her. “What's your name?”

She looked up at me for a second, translating maybe, and responded, “Elise.”

I paused, then said, “Thank you.”

She smiled, and it utterly changed her face. She looked younger—more vulnerable. Maybe she was. Living with these creepers would make anyone old before their time.

I came to stand in front of Mason.

He looked at me with sullenness. “Yeah, Hart?”

“Listen to me.” I met his eyes and tried for reasonable. While I still could, that is. “My friends, family... everyone but you and me have gotten nailed with this government drug that's an enhancer.”

I swallowed my anger when he wrapped Jade closer against him and she cuddled into him like her favorite teddy bear. I just wanted to spray barf again, but not because of the head wound. I went on, pressing through my desire to rip his head off and shit down his throat, “Jade doesn't know what she's doing, man. She can't choose, she's not thinking rationally. The drug makes people's thought processes effed up, their insecurities that they would normally rationalize, becomes magnified on this stuff.”

I saw something flicker in his eyes, some kind of connection with what I was saying, then the look vanished.

Dammit, I just knew he understood something was up. Jade wasn't acting like herself, and he'd clued in. But since it was going so his way, Brett wasn't going to become introspective or anything.

The dick.

I clenched my fists.

Jade moved out of the circle of his arms and touched my forearm.

I ached to take her into my arms, looking at her like a guy starving for the perfect sandwich. For me, she was it.

Jade gazed up into my face, while Elise's hands were pressed against the base of my neck from behind and said, “This is why we can't be together Caleb. I need someone that's not so violent. That cares about me first—not all the dead things.” She flicked her hair back behind her shoulder, the hollow of her throat bare, the necklace I gave her gone forever.

Maybe she was too.

My eyes met Brett's and he stared back, reeling her back in against his body like a prize trout.

“I just want him to go away, he makes me nervous Brett,” Jade whispered in a voice that was slightly slurred. We could all tell she was going downhill. Why didn't this asshole see it?

He didn't want to, that's why.

Brett stroked her hair. “I know, he's going—right Hart?”

I leaned forward and hissed close to his face, “You know what I told you is right. Don't do this, Mason. Don't use your connection to manipulate the situation!”

“I'm not man, you handed her over before any of this bullshit started happening, remember?” His eyes pegged me with accusation. “You're the one that got into it at school, again. Then,” he kept his penetrating stare on me, “you asked me, no begged me to protect her from Howie.” He grunted his annoyance over her head, his chin almost resting on it. “Then when he made his psycho move, who came to her rescue? I did, ya moron. You came late, as usual. We're meant to be together. I'm the one with all the family violence and drama, but you act like it comes natural. Maybe you're the one with the problem. I should be the one that doesn't have any self-control. Where the fuck is yours?” He leaned his head back and laughed. “Nowhere.” He pointed his finger at me. “I'll take care of Jade, Hart. Cuz you obviously can't.”

I didn't need the enhancer for all the self-doubt in the world to come crashing in on top of my head. I saw our past flash before my mind's eye. All the fights, the violence, the dead always a casualty of everything. How it would seem to Jade, the enhancer warping it all out of proportion. Then I saw all the things that balanced that. Mainly, our love. I recounted the countless times with her body under mine, my hands everywhere, protecting her, loving her. My heart squeezed inside my chest. Stupid Mason thought I was giving him some kind of reprieve.

He was wrong. He was effectively on notice.

Starting now.

I knew that Jade was messed up mentally. I searched the room, trying to gauge my other friends. The girls gave me different expressions but it was Jonesy that grinned.

“I'm still sane, I'm already half-crazy anyway. I'm not gonna go more nuts overnight.”

Elise kept her hands on my skin as I took stock of everything. I told myself that at least Jade was safe. Brett was a proven guard dog. Too bad he'd latched on to my girl as mistress. I blamed myself. But sometimes choices had to be made that were the best out of a bunch of lame ones.

I needed to get us out of here and fast. But first, I had to collect the blood, find out if Gramps was okay and then....

I snapped my eyes to John's. “We need to get outta here, like yesterday.”

“You don't think I'm aware of that?” he snorted, then looked at Elise.

She lifted her hands off of my neck and drew back, I went to grab the hand that had left me and she cringed, throwing up her other hand to defend herself.

“Hey,” I said softly, “I won't hurt ya.” I gently pushed the arm down but her eyes were full of fear.

“What's wrong with her?” I asked John.

“Figure it out, Caleb, look at her.”

I did. The parts of her body I could see carried the marks of pinches, hits and lashes. Some fresh, many were old. My anger came rushing back like the tide to shore. “Who did this to you?” I asked in a harsh whisper.

She shrugged her shoulders. “They all do. If I displease them, it is the consequence for my clumsiness.”

“I am really hating these guys,” Bry spoke for the first time.

Elise flashed her eyes to his, and he raised his eyebrows. “I am treated well. They do not-do not,” she cast her eyes down and all us guys circled around what she didn't say. But then she bravely raised moist eyes to us, the tears wrung out of her, “use me,” she finished in a thready voice.

Sophie walked the short distance to the young Organic and wrapped her arms around Elise. Then Randi staggered over to her, the side of her face swollen from the hit she'd taken from one of the fragment. Tiff grabbed Randi's arm and helped her get to Elise, the sedative still working its magic.

“I won't leave you behind,” Randi slurred like a drunk.

Elise gave her sad eyes.

“I am sorry, what you say will not be possible,” Elise responded.

Tiff stared at the new girl, then asked real slow, “What do ya mean?”

Elise's face turned a dull brick color.

Hell, even I knew how bad that was.

“It is trading day. The females will be auctioned first. You will command the highest price.” She looked at each young woman in turn. “If you be untried, more.”

Holy shit. They were talking about whether the girls were virgins or not! They were talking about... selling our girls.

Not on my watch.

The Js and I watched this new reality sink in. Sophie covered her mouth with a hand, whipping her head from side to side. “Oh my God, no!”

Tiff, from the recesses of her pocket, dredged out a stick of gum and began chomping on it with relish. “Let ʼem try to check and figure it out. I'm thinking they'd lose some fingers,” she paused contemplatively, “or some other... stuff.”

Hell.

Elise wasn't finished with the revelations either. “The young females who be,” she looked at Jade, Sophie and Randi, “exotic in their physicality will fetch even more still.”

Okay, this was beyond creepy.

From the side of the structure Jade piped in with her slurred speech, “Brett can keep me safe.”

Yeah right. I rolled my eyes, giving her a look. Jade's face was flushed, eyes glazed. My eyes swept to Mason's. “Any doubt that she doesn't hardly know who she is?” Guilt swept across his face then was gone. “Chump,” I muttered.

I needed the dead. And not a few.

Many.

I pulled Elise into my body, sucking the energy off of her, a full healing just out of reach as I held my hand out for Tiff. She came, snapping her gum. “I'm on board, Hart. Besides, it saves me from severing body parts.”

I gave a grim smile at that. I liked the idea of lopping off some parts about now. Hell, the way I was feeling—I was ready to do the Mary Queen of Scots routine. Creepy little nursery rhyme that made a helluva lot of sense at the moment.

My power rushed up and swirled around the surface of my skin, wanting to burst through.

But a ceiling of unknown origin kept it locked in a room of death, active within me. Someone had thrown away the key. I was shut down. How, I didn't know.

My eyes met John's as Tiff dropped my hand.

“Damn,” she seethed.

Archer came forward. “I've got great news.”

“Terrific, I could use some,” I said, my eyes flicking over to Brett holding Jade.

“Focus, Caleb,” he said.

My eyes shifted back to him, willing him to make his point. My patience, well—I didn't have any.

“I can get us out of here.”

Right, Lock-Manipulator.

Lewis calmly walked over to a huge, barn-like door and grasped the handle. I could hear a large chain and latch fall from the other side and he rolled the door away from the entrance as bright midday light slanted like a laser beam into the confines of the structure.

Dust motes swirled lazily in the band of sunlight.

“You should not have done that,” Elise said in warning.

“Why?” Escape was the natural solution.

“They will abuse those you care about to maintain your cooperation.”

Gramps.

We poured out of the small wooden building and the first thing that struck me was a wide platform that was maybe three meters deep by five wide. There were steps which led up to the wooden platform that flanked its sides. What bullshittery was this?

Elise said from behind me, “It is the auction block. Your females will remain here no longer. They will be sold,” she hesitated.

I looked back at her, naked apprehension flooding through my body, my adrenal system firing up like clockwork.

Her face was turned to the sun, a hand shading her eyes. “Maybe they'll be free for two hours more. The doctor will check them first for,” she paused over her next words, “readiness.” Virginity, my mind translated. She shrugged as if this were normal. “Then they will be traded.”

Alex surged toward her and she backed away from his coming tirade. I put a hand on his arm and he looked down at me breathing deeply, collecting himself. His eyes sharpened and he controlled the modulation of his voice. “They can't do this. We're not... we're not from here.”

“That doesn't matter, dude. These effing creepers are greedy suckers. They don't care about the chicks, man. They only care about”—

—“Power,” Archer supplied.

Jonesy pointed a finger at him. “That.”

“How do we stop it?” Sophie was getting ready for hysteria.

We all looked at her and John walked to her. Putting his hand on her pulse he looked at me and shook his head. “She's slipping, Caleb.”

I turned to Elise, “They can't sell crazy can they?”

John repeated my question, a little more in line with her understanding. “What if the females are mad?”

She nodded and shrugged. “They will be beaten.”

“Until when?” Tiff asked.

“Until such time that they submit.”

Tiff snorted. “Fat damn chance. I'll never submit!”

Elise looked at her with sad eyes. Despondent eyes.

“There are buyers who favor that disposition.” She continued to stare at Tiff, “You do not want a male that enjoys that, to have you.”

She shuddered.

Bry shook his head and scrubbed his short hair, working over his face as he did. He scrubbed his face three times then said, “Nah, nobody is gettinʼ their paws on my sister. I'll kill ʼem. I swear to God I will.”

“You behave as if there be choice in the matter.” Elise's eyes searched his. “There is no choice. None,” she said with a ringing finality.

“How is it that you've managed?” I asked.

“I heal,” she said, turning her palms upward and facing us. “I heal, therefore, I am of value.”

Wow... just wow. “Okay,” I peered at the structures that surrounded ours, “Parker, Tracker...?” I raised my eyebrows.

Jonesy piped in, “Yeah, he's here somewhere.”

I nodded. “Gramps, and whoever else we can bust out.” I gave John a full look. “Can we get Elise here to juice Randi out of her stupor enough to get us the hell outta here?”

John shrugged. “It's our best chance.” His eyes found mine and I heard the but in his words.

“What?” I stepped forward, our gazes locked. “We have to get that blood collected or it'll be a moot point. The girls will go crazy and the guys will follow. It won't even matter if we get back. As a matter of fact, look at the degradation even now.”

Our attention turned to the girls. Tiff was hanging in there but getting more ornery (if that was even possible), but Sophie was going the way of Jade. The girls were getting literally sick in the head, and Sophie was moaning about purses and crap.

Jonesy went to her, feeling her head. “She has a fever. I thought they said it was mental.”

“It's metastasizing,” John said in a flat voice.

“What, like cancer? That crap that used to kill people all the time before The Cure?” Jonesy asked.

John nodded. “Yeah, just like that but worse. This thing, it'll make the girls sick, then they'll clear up in time to go batshit. And not all cancers fell under The Cure.”

Things were bad if Terran was cursing.

I turned to Elise. “Can you fix his leg?” I asked her, looking at Brett.

She nodded.

He looked puzzled and I clarified, “I can't use a gimp, Mason.”

“Oh Hart, you like me after all,” Brett said, all-sarcasm.

“Nah, but I need you.” I was dead serious.

Elise went and healed his leg as he held Jade, delirious with sickness. I watched her face as she became more ill. That visual strengthened my resolve.

I would get that effing blood if it was the last thing I did. Shoot the girls up like a drug pimp and get us out of here. Or die trying. The fragment weren't going to touch our girls.

Especially Jade.

I loved her, and that was all that mattered. I'd see this thing through, regardless of the cost.

The sacrifice.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“Question!” Jonesy said, halting our progress as we made our way to the other buildings. I turned, eyebrows to my hairline as Brett and Jade came behind us.

Just ask me how I was lovinʼ that.

“Where are the guards? This seems way too easy. These boys are big time into control. If they have plans for us, if they want the chicks, why are we running around free?” he asked, making perfect sense for once.

Archer smiled. “I got us out, remember Mark?”

Jonesy scowled. “Yeah. But, I don't know, something seems off.”

I shook my head. “No, they think we're locked in here and everything is secure.”

John palmed his chin. “Maybe,” he shot a contemplative look at Jonesy. “But Caleb,” I turned to look at Terran, “somebody has shut down your AFTD.”

“We have several sorcerers within the confines of our group,” Elise said softly. John took her hands and she flinched but didn't pull away. Seeing her with John, I realized how young she really was. Maybe she was just our age, maybe a year older.

“Tell us, what skills do they possess?” he asked, switching to that weird mix of modern and archaic speech the fragment used. But the more I listened, the more I realized it was the cadence to their speech that made it so difficult to interpret.

She gazed at him shyly then cast her eyes down at her slippered feet. It took so long we didn't think Elise would answer then finally she did. “We have one such as he,” she inclined her head at me then blew us away with, “and he can stop another from using his power over those things that are now dead.”

John's head snapped my direction. “They have a dual paranormal here, Caleb.”

“English, Terran!” Jonesy almost yelled and Tiff shushed him.

Like that'd work.

John plowed his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “They've got someone here that is AFTD and Null. He's got the know how on your death vibe, and he can negate it.” His eyes bored into mine.

I got the message loud and clear. I wouldn't be using the dead any time soon.

And neither would Parker.

Effectively, I had whatever wits I possessed and my physical stamina and fighting skills. But in this group, who knew how I'd make out. I glanced at Jade, her safety pressing uncomfortably within the confines of my skull. Not that she'd take to me helping her, with the whacked out enhancer raging in her body.

“So you're like us mundanes, Hart?” Brett asked.

Love him, the pencil dick. I gave him a hard stare. “Yeah, looks that way.”

“No corpses springing out of the box?” Brett said, rubbing the shit in, the salt into my wounds that were so open, so raw. It stung.

I turned and was in his face before he closed his mouth.

I lifted my fist to give him a pounding and Jade's fevered eyes opened. “Caleb,” she whispered, a look in her eyes that told me she was here right then, with me.

My anger dropped like a stone in a well. I reached out and touched her face, my thumb caressing her hot skin, like rasping over silk.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked and my hand dropped, the confusion filling her expression again.

Brett and I looked at each other. “Do your goddamned job, Brett. Protect her, stop goading my ass, or I swear to God we're gonna go. You hear me?” I stabbed my eyes into his, willing him to agree.

“Me protecting her was never a question, Hart. But can you calm your shit long enough to let me?” he asked, his dark eyes searching mine.

I didn't know, but I hated him calling me on my temper. Hated him making any kind of sense. I turned on my heel and walked to the building where I could feel death energy. As I got nearer I heard Parker call out. “Caleb!”

I ran to the building.

Then the fragment came from every corner, swarming around us as Archer hit the lock on the building, dropping the chain.

Elise backed away from John and he grabbed her, drawing her in next to the protection of his body. I heard him ask her in a whisper, “Who is the one who can stop he who controls the dead?”

She pointed at a guy that wore a vest with a shield that had grapes on it. Or had at one time, it was torn, faded and ragged. He had a quality to him I recognized. I studied him, the connective memory just out of grasp.

Then, it slammed into me in cohesive recognition.

He looked like he was from Clara's sphere, her world. Then he spoke and I was certain.

“You have nothing to gain from testing your abilities here, Traveler,” he smirked.

The Zondorae brothers came to stand next to him as Parker exited the shelter of the other building, dragging Gramps like a side of beef beside him.

Gramps was breathing through his mouth, his nose flattened like a ruined pancake on his face. That he was standing at all was a testament to his constitution.

He looked at me out of the slit of one eye, seeing my expression. “Looks worse than it is, son.”

Tears burned in the back of my eyes. My anger had nowhere to go. But the dead wanted it. I could feel their greedy fingers caressing my emotions.

The sphere dude with the vest held up his finger, swinging it back and forth. “No, no, Traveler. You will not call the damned to assist you in this.” He glanced at Joe and Gary, “or I presume something else. Am I correct in this presumption?” he asked the brothers.

Joe responded, “Yes, you are quite right, Jabez.”

Jabez, the Null of epic death, grinned at Parker and I; his eyes touching on Gramps, then settling on Tiff. “All of you death seekers will be as the masses,” he swept his arm to encompass the fragment, held back only by the brothersʼ will as he trained his eyes on Jade and Sophie, obviously ill.

“We've administered the inoculation in this group, Caleb.”

My shoulders fell.

“With interesting results. Not all have to be in puberty to respond. Of course, that would make sense since the genetic splicing used for the young people of our world was extracted from the people of this world. Whoever has that blood of the Band and sphere running through their veins manifests—many interesting traits.”

“Yʼknow, for being so smart, they're slow learners,” Tiff said.

The brothers gave her a speculative look. “You have a cocky mouth. Considering what will happen to you next.”

“Try it, shit-for-brains,” Tiff said in her droll way.

Bry groaned.

I knew Tiff would finally have a consequence for her actions. None of us guys could help her.

Gary narrowed his eyes on her. “Men, get her and string her up with the other females.”

John began to move toward Tiff.

I shook my head. I had an idea.

Terran frowned.

I shot him a subtle look to let him know I had something up my sleeve, and he nodded.

Bry railed at them, fighting Alex. “Don't you fuckinʼ touch her!” he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. The males came forward, Tiff crouched in readiness. The first one that got close got a foot right in the balls for his trouble. Can anyone say Do Over?

I would've given my left nut to see that again.

Gramps gave a grunt of satisfaction as the guy went down like the sack of shit he was. Then the other three moved in. Tiff was wily, twisting her wrist viciously as one grabbed her, snapping the flat of her palm into his nose with her free hand.

“Argh!” he cried like a pirate, staggering back as blood sprayed like a fire hydrant, coating the two that had grabbed the back of her hoodie in a strangle hold.

Tiff let herself drop, the sudden dead weight of her caused the two of the fragment to momentarily loosen their hold and she snapped her leg up and out, into the gut of the nearest one and the breath whooshed out of his belly as he stumbled, falling on his ass.

Huh, she was totally workinʼ it.

“Kick their ass, Tiff!” Jonesy screamed as he moved toward her for back up.

“No Jones!” I screamed and looked in horror as Howie came from behind her and the Zondorae brother closest to him said in a low and controlled voice, “Subdue her.”

“With pleasure,” Howie said and Tiff's eyes grew big in her face as she began to lose her breath, the fourth fragment strangling her with her hood. Even I felt something shift when he commanded, “Sleep,” sliding a finger down her cheek as he did.

Her eyes grew hazy and her mouth slackened, the gum falling out to the ground before she did, only to be caught in his waiting arms as she fell.

Howie Frazier shrugged. “That was too easy boys, next time, give me a challenge,” he said, looking once at Jade. Brett and I exchanged an uneasy glance.

Joe strode over to where I stood, two fragment holding each one of my arms. Rearing back, he sank a sucker-punch into my gut. I was ready and had clenched my abs but it still stole most of my breath. He hadn't held back a thing, giving me all that he had.

The prick.

“Ah man! That was a cheap shot ya doofus!” Jonesy said.

Joe Zondorae gave Jonesy a look. Smiled. “I've been wanting to do that for a year.”

“A year?” John said as I stood, bent and gasping, Gramps fuming but unable to help beside me.

Joe looked to John. “I said, my good Null, that time moves faster here than in our world.” Then he looked at me as I stood, arm folded over my stomach. “That's right, it's been a year since you dumped us here to live off the fat of the land. But we didn't waste time, we've been extremely ambitious. Right, Gary?”

Gary Zondorae nodded. “Oh yes. We have all the paranormals we need. And none with a bit of integrity to get in the way of our wants.”

Howie interrupted, “Where do ya want her?”

“Tie her against the stand,” he answered.

I noticed five posts sunk into the wood of the platform. One for each girl.

The girls ran to our guys, screaming.

The mad scientists just smiled.

I was seething, looking at Joe and Gary. “I'll kill you,” I said in a low voice that shook with resolution, promise. And I knew I would. Somehow, they would die—had to die.

Gary smirked at my threat, dismissing it. “No you won't. You're going to be too busy watching your little female get sold to the highest bidder. The dead aren't at your command anymore. You're just a regular guy here, Hart.” His stare stayed on me, smiling.

“Candy ass,” Gramps said conversationally.

Gary frowned at him.

Joe added, “This is better than we could have hoped for. Sophia Morris has been a problem ever since it came to our attention that she witnessed Parker's little raising of the French Prime minister. And Jade LeClerc... well, she's another matter entirely. If we could get rid of her, and we almost did,” his eyes met mine, “then we could have destabilized you completely.”

“Wait a second,” I said, regaining my breath as Howie began tying Tiff against a two meter tall wood post, her unconscious head lolling from side to side as he wrapped her against it. I swung my gaze from the disturbing image of Tiff being contained, hearing the soft crying of Mia, Sophie and Randi behind me. “How in the blue hell did you do anything—from here?” I tried to make sense of their crazy.

They smiled, but it was Joe that responded, “We always had a plan B if there was anything that was happening to us. It always included you, Caleb Hart.”

“Why?” I bellowed. Why was I so effing important?

“Without you, we will continue. Our agency will move forward with our collective vision.”

I swung my face to Parker. “I didn't sign on for this. I wouldn't have ever endangered Jade,” I looked at the gang, “or my friends.”

“It's all part of it, Caleb,” Parker said, his eyes telling me something. But I wasn't psychic.

“What?”

Joe smiled. “A race of people that we control. Through their paranormal abilities. People like Howie will make that possible.” Howie heard his name, and tipped an imaginary hat.

“Wait a second?” I looked at Howie then the Zondorae brothers.

“Howie's yours? What... your experiment?”

“I told you he was Kyle's son,” Gary said with clear reproach directed at Joe. He tapped his head, “Smart.”

Joe frowned, not answering. “Yes. We've made the Manipulatives. They follow only our directives.”

“Well, doesn't that put all your eggs in one basket, fellas?” Gramps said, out of a mouth that was missing a tooth.

And suddenly I knew what the answer was. Kill the brothers, save the world. We couldn't have their Manipulative puppets loosed on our world. They'd force the paranormals to do their bidding. And with those two, it wouldn't be anything good. It would be for gain.

Graysheets to the core.

I looked at Jabez, the hybrid Null, a guy that, thanks to the Zondoraes, now had a special ability to shut down two five-point AFTDs. Brett was getting his ass handed to him as they tore a non-lucid Jade from his arms. She was ranting, “Caleb, make them stop. I know I'm here because of you!” she accused, lashing her head from side to side, not making sense, not even trying.

I had never wanted to protect her more than I did in that moment. Instead, they took the girl I loved—really a woman now—to the auction block to be sold to a bunch of guys, so she could be systematically raped and bred in this horrible world of degradation.

My palms began to sweat, my heart slamming against my ribcage with the effort not to go to Jade and beat them until they stopped breathing. My hands were slick and tight with it. The want.

Death Intent surely formed in my very being. Born in that moment.

I didn't realize I'd moved forward until Elise touched my forearm and gave a gentle shake of her head, the arms that bound me had dropped. What threat was I now? With a hundred fragment, no dead to use, and more fragment on the way for their disgusting flesh market.

The odds were as bad as I'd ever seen them.

“Hart,” Brett croaked from the ground.

It broke my attention from them dragging Jade off as she screamed for help. Not mine, but anyone.

It broke my heart, shattering it as I stood there, rage and hopelessness twining with perfect synchronicity. I surveyed Brett, bleeding and broken on the ground. “Yeah,” I responded.

“Don't let ʼem.”

I stared down at him. “Do you know what they're gonna do?”

“I'll bid on her myself,” Howie broke in.

“Shut up!” Brett screamed.

Howie leaped off the stage made for the express purpose of flesh trade. He stalked over to where Brett lay and kicked him in the ribs.

“Hey!” I yelled.

Howie gave me a cursory glance then pinned his attention on Brett, where he lay gasping like a fish. Broken ribs will do that to a guy. “Do you think those were my parents? My real family?” He laughed. “Hell no, this is my home. I always knew I'd come back. But I'm a soldier for both worlds and I will have Jade. In fact,” his eyes met mine, “I might make it a public affair. Yeah, that would be mighty fine. A team effort, eh?”

I broke free then, startling the two that had been beside me.

They reached for me too late. I ran at Howie full speed, my heels kicking my own ass as I launched myself toward him. He opened his mouth to give one of his special commands, but it was lost as he ate my knuckles. I reared back and got four stabbing punches in before the fragment pulled me off.

Howie lay there, out cold, and as I was dragged away I found Sophie's eyes and gave her a look I hoped she interpreted. My plan had started. Now, to see if she got what I was trying to say. If she was lucid enough for execution.

She did, running to me, so frightened she slipped twice. The fragment completely dismissed her.

Their gravest mistake so far.

Sophie grabbed my arm and ducked as the fragment tried to sweep her off me. “Get me to the Null on my signal,” I said with quiet urgency. Too quiet for those around us to hear.

Her eyes widened as they grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to the platform.

The first of the foreign fragment came, their low murmurings of excitement all for the display of new females on the platform.

Four of the fragment held me as I watched helplessly like the other guys, as our girls were hogtied to the posts. Their hands bound above their bodies, feet at shoulder width apart, tied to brass loops in the flooring.

Tiff began to waken and was greeted by over fifty filthy faces. All of them looking at her. She began to buck but it didn't matter, she was tightly secured. Her tortured gaze found me. “Caleb.”

“I know,” I answered in a low voice.

Joe narrowed his eyes on me. “What did you say to the girl?”

“What can I do, Zondorae?” I asked, spreading my hands wide, palms up like I was harmless. We both knew I wasn't. Maybe at one time I'd been, but no more. Life had taught me that.

And death.

“Yes, Caleb... what can you do?” he chuckled. His arrogance had forced his agreement.

Turning away I hid a smile that Gramps caught.

He lifted the side of his swollen lip. “That's my boy,” he whispered.

I grinned suddenly and Parker nodded. He knew more than he was letting on. But, I knew that somehow, this whole thing had been predestined. That I had to just do whatever seemed right.

Pretty easy, that's just the way I rolled.

My eyes fixed on the Null, Jabez. He'd be the first to go. Without the dead, I didn't have any chance. None.

The auctioneer came to stand by the girls. He gripped the sides of a makeshift podium and slammed a gavel against the surface.

The girls jumped. Tiff cringed. Randi had started to become more awake, the sedative wearing off. That was gonna be critical. We weren't escaping this mess without her.

“Do I have the first bid?” a man from the mass of fragment asked, standing head and shoulders above the others. As I studied him, I noted he looked vaguely like the guys of the Band.

I looked at Jade again, clenching my eyes shut then opening them, little more than a long blink of agony. I could feel the hands of the fragment hanging on to my arms. I was stuck. But not for long.

A chorus of voices rose from the crowd and then the question I'd been dreading was asked.

“How much for the untried?” Their eyes roamed our girls hungrily. But one girl had caught his eye and he approached the platform. He was big and tall, my height, his chin coming to the platform's edge.

I tensed and Sophie gazed at me with naked fear in her face. Hang on, my face said, hang on.

“Stay back,” a fragment guard growled from the corner of the platform. The male's eyes flicked over the bare wood then back to the girl he had his eyes on.

I clenched my eyes again so I could expunge the image of him looking at her. At Jade.

I couldn't wait another second. At the primal level I rebelled against everything that I could see, hear, touch... feel. It was like food poisoning but worse. Circumstance poisoning.

And I had the cure.

When I opened my eyes they locked onto Sophie. I screamed in a focused yell, “Now!”

Joe Zondorae jerked his head in my direction and Parker threw the vial with the partial antidote in it. It spun toward me in a lazy arc, catching the sun as it did, the amber-colored liquid sloshing as it approached.

I could hear the brothers screaming as my peripheral vision caught Parker jerking his fist in accomplishment, a look of fierce satisfaction on his face.

The antedote wasn't going to make it in time! I flung myself outward, startling the fragment guards that had loosened their clasp on my shoulders.

I grabbed it in midair and was gone before I fell.

I hit the planks of the platform, Sophie having torn me through realm and deposited me in a neat pile, fifteen meters from where I'd just been standing.

I stood up and realized I had two seconds to execute The Plan.

I jammed the vial in my pocket and stabbed out my hand with all the precision I'd been taught, my training in judo as automatic as breathing.

I aimed for the back of Jabez the Null's head and he went down, slumping forward, boneless and unconscious.

The fragment came for me, leaping up the sides of the platform, taking the steps three at a time. I saw Sophie was still in realm, hanging limply against the bindings, having sacrificed her travel to get me the necessary distance to where I stood now. Over the unconscious body of Jabez the Null who could no longer derail my power.

The fragment swooped in.

I lurched forward as I bellowed a call to the dead that rippled like a shouted plea underneath still water.

A tidal wave of death responded.

The ground rippled underneath the platform, the wood undulating like a poked snake.

Hands broke through the wood and sought who came for me.

The first break of the day:The dumbass fragment had built their stage of illegal trade on top of an old burial site.

Hot damn. I'm sure the grin that stole over my face was pure malice as the first of them came through.

The Red Men.

I knew it was the most unpolitically correct thought but I let it take form anyway: I loved the Indians. Fully armed and ready to do battle for me.

Then Howie said the one word that made everything halt.

“Stop!” he roared at me.

I stood stockstill, the death energy choking me like a silken noose, not fully eclipsed in its command. I froze while the fragment made their way between zombies held in thrall by my unfinished directive. My paralyzed eyes held unmoving inside my skull.

But his command had been for me and me alone. It was unshakable.

Unbreakable.

Fear and misery seized me. To have come this far to saving the whole thing—to be stopped by dumbass Frazier.

Jonesy came up and clocked Frazier in the back of the head with a rock the size of his fist.

“Hot damn! That felt great!” he hollered, bolting as the fragment poured after him.

Jonesy could run like the wind.

Parker met my eyes. He opened his mouth and breathed out toward my zombies. “Live,” he said quietly, his soft utterance caused their eyes to fill out in their heads like plump grapes that were once raisins. Purpose and intent stood where nothingness had been a moment before.

Frazier was unconscious and I was back in business.

The brothers backed up.

I pivoted to the closest Red Man. I was definitely a follow-through kinda guy. And I knew the Indians were.

“Get them,” I said.

He didn't ask who, but flew at the brothers—weapons ready—the war cry shrill. His call shattered the silence, and the birds fleeing the safety of their roost from the nearby trees.

A call so unnatural it scared every living animal that was close. Even the bugs moved through the grass like slow-moving brackish water, weaving between the grass turned green by late summer.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I ran after the Chief of the Red Men before he split the skull of the brothers.

Holding back on murdering them was one of the hardest restraints I'd ever imposed on myself. I was almost proud I could do it. Of course, there was the small detail of blood collection.

That old expression that Gramps used, you can't get blood out of a turnip. Well, I was going to apply it here.

You can't get blood outta a corpse either.

Subdue, I thought at him in a hard command through our conduit of death. He staggered a step as he neared them, then regained his balance. He moved forward anew, twirling the tomahawk held fast in his muscular grip, the blade glinting as it spun. The Red Man never hesitated, bringing the blunt end down with smooth precision on Joe's head with a light skull tap.

His mouth made a surprised O and he slumped where he stood. The Indian caught him, rolling him with finesses as additional warriors surged forward. They clamped on to Gary's arms, dragging him to the ground.

An especially enthusiastic Indian began to pound his face into the fragrant earth. Probably trying to get at those brains. The first real smile of the day touched my lips briefly, then disappeared as I spoke to the Enthusiast, “No head-banging.”

Clyde waded into a small knot of fragment that had surrounded the guys and said, with characteristic Clyde Charm, “Cease and desist, vermin, or it shall be your last thought.” They didn't know Clyde was dead, they just thought he was a smartass.

They were right, in his way, Clyde was The Smartest Ass.

But he was also quite dead. Strong, vital, lightning fast, and without mercy in the right circumstance.

That circumstance was now.

Alex tracked him moving through them like a tsunami finding its perfect island to ravage. He followed suit, and between the two of them, they delivered the pounding of the century to men who deserved it.

The Js sprinted to the platform as the foreign fragment, a riot in mind, went to loot the girls from underneath the domestic fragment's nose.

They ignored the threat of the Indians.

Bad move. As they came to realize the error of their ways, the Indians began to latch onto the clothing of each fragment who came, pitching them into each other, the trees—whatever was standing.

In the end, with what seemed like hours but was really minutes, nothing was standing.

They turned their eyes to mine as Jabez the Null began to stir.

I gave a frantic look, realizing his consciousness would start the whole ugly ball rolling down the mountain of shit again.

As Jabez the Null's eyes found mine, he opened his mouth to speak.

The Chief fisted his hair, fashionably long by this world's standards. He scalped him where he lay. The hair tore away like a stubborn velcro strip. The baldness of his scalp stood like a poached egg, white for the moment, filling in with red as I watched.

Chief met my eyes and seeing no dissent, ran the small blade he held in his free hand, tendons and muscles flexed like tight cords as he swiped along the flesh of Jabez's throat. Severing his vocal cords. He wouldn't be shutting down the dead any time soon.

Or ever.

Gary Zondorae was bellowing at the Indians that held him as I moved slowly toward him.

I took note of the Js untying the girls. Finally frustrated, John used one of the tomahawks to cut the ties at the girlsʼ feet. Mia's eyes widened at this but once she was free, Bry was there and they fell into each others arms. He stroked her dark honey-colored hair while she sobbed in relief.

Hated the hospitality here, I had to say.

I moved between fragment that backed away as I came. They knew what I was now—what I'd called. My eyes met Parker's and I jerked the vial and the collector out of my filthy jeans, the metal button long gone.

Gary saw them in my hand and smiled. “You can't undo what we've accomplished here.”

I shook my head. “You're right. But I can save my friends, and I'm not done by half... with what I plan to do.”

Parker smiled, nodding.

Zondorae looked at him. “He's not some messiah, Parker.”

Jeffrey Parker shook his head. “We don't need that. Caleb is the one who wanted to do the right thing, could do it. You're done here, Zondorae. And you're done there as well.” We both knew that he was talking about my world.

This world.

They had paranormals now too. The future uncertain. But what I could change for the future, I would.

As the Indians held Gary, who wouldn't stop screaming, the one who was closest raised the blunt hilt of his small dagger.

Gary shut his mouth.

I pierced the collector into his skin, twisting it as I did. He flinched and I watched the opaque collector, the size of the now-defunct fifty cent pieces, fill with wine-colored blood. Hitting the air it looked red, but without oxygen blood ran blue in the veins.

See, I hadn't totally flunked Biology.

His eyes bulged as Parker extracted an eye dropper type gizmo and we mixed his blood with the antidote. It was disgusting but necessary.

I went to Jade who was thrashing in Brett's grip, his face a tight mask of pain. She saw me come and started screaming for me to get away.

My stride faltered but then I took a deep breath and kept coming. I reminded myself that I'd get my girl back when she had the antidote inside her.

Brett met my eyes. “Does this mean she's going back to you, Hart?”

“Does that matter?” I yelled. “Look at her!” I said, flinging my hand at Jade.

Parker came forward. “Do it, Caleb, before it's too late.”

I placed the stopper at the ground, close to my body like it was worth a billion bucks. As I gazed into her face, I knew it was worth that.

I held Jade still, her eyes wide with irrational fear, seeing and hearing things only she could. A face I'd held with passion, with care.

With love.

A face I now held in a crushing grip she couldn't escape. I pressed against the side of her jaw and as tears streamed down her cheeks Parker moved in and pinched her nose, her mouth popped open and her tongue rose to the roof of her mouth to scream.

A glittering jewel-like amber drop hung suspended above those lips I'd kissed. Tremulously it held, then with exquisite slowness it fell, landing right underneath her tongue.

I let go of her face, her accusing eyes locking on me, the stare one I'd hoped never to see. Hate and revulsion shone in that gaze.

I closed my eyes against that condemning expression, standing and turning as I moved away to give the drop to my infected friends, leaving Jade in the arms of Brett.

For now.

“I do wish to depart this world of ill repute,” Clyde said in his matter-of-fact way, folding his arms across a suit that had to be the-seven-shades-of-hell-hot.

Bobbi Gale linked her arm through his, and grinned at his summation of the wonderful parallel world.

“Yes, hun, we know,” she said, patting his arm.

Geez.

I jerked the mixed vial up so the light could penetrate it, eyeing the portion that remained. Only about one third of the original amount.

I glanced at Jade, sleeping on the grass at Brett's feet. What would she be like when she woke. Would the antidote work? Would she hate me still?

My gaze shifted to an unconscious Howie, eyes narrowing. Really, he was fragment. But we couldn't leave him. He wasn't going to be awake for the ride, though. I searched the clothes of Joe Zondorae, Gary studying me with cold eyes. Finally, I found the sedative.

I walked over to Howie, glad that Jade was asleep. Clyde jerked Howie up by the pits, his head lolling to the side.

Chief sidled over to him, putting the sharpest part of the tomahawk against the soft side of his neck. “Master,” he breathed out, his eyes energized by the possibility of murdering this one. My thoughts were bare before him. I couldn't hide anything I felt from the dead. He knew of my naked hatred for Howie. He wanted that to come full circle. If Howie were dead, he would not be of consequence any longer.

The simplicity of zombies. Sometimes I admired their logic.

It just couldn't be beat. Instead, I said, “Wait.”

He tensed, my command a literal evocation.

Clyde slapped Howie's face in a singular and brutal clap that rocked his head back.

His eyes burst open.

I smiled at Clyde, he got shit done.

Howie opened his mouth to speak. I was sure it would have been something really final. Like—Go Die.

Instead, Chief pressed the blade tightly against Howie's neck and his eyes shifted to the zombie who had eyeballs that were sticky and wet in its sockets, the tongue a black snake in its mouth. More than ready to strike.

Yes, indeedy.

“I want you to tell the brothers a little something,” I began.

“Fuck you, Hart.”

Imaginative guy.

Clyde glared at him.

Chief drew blood, the blade sinking into the flesh at his throat and Howie rose on his tiptoes to avoid it, straining away from the steel tip. Chief followed his lean expertly, effectively trapping Howie's motion. Clyde looked at Chief and then gave his full attention to Howie. He hissed out of a perfect mouth, the sound unnatural even to my ears.

He had nowhere to go.

Howie met my eyes again.

“Ready?” I asked in a conversational tone.

He glared at me, saying nothing. I jerked my chin to the right, indicating the brothers.

My zombies-of-the-hour dragged the Manipulative to the brothers.

I whispered to Howie what I wanted him to tell them.

He jerked his head back. “No!”

“You can't do it?”

“I can—but I won't.” His eyeballs were bulgy, his mouth a slash of determination.

“Losinʼ your nerve?” I strode closer to him, grabbing and bunching his shirt in my fist. “Remember, you were gonna tap my girl? You were gonna bid on her?” My voice trembled with palpable rage. Howie was lucky I didn't have the zombies do a hack-fest on him. It was soundinʼ pretty good about now.

He saw the intent in my eyes, gulping.

“Do it,” I said, disgusted.

Chief jerked him with one powerful shake, his head whipped back on the stem of his neck, a wee to be broken if he didn't cooperate.

Clyde tied Howie to the post, the Chief standing with the blade at the ready. When they were done I turned to Gary, Joe was just starting to stir. A gruesome lump stood vigil on his forehead.

“Where's the adrenaline, pal?”

He looked at me blankly. I smiled. “There are some advantages to being a scientist's son. Where there's a sedative, there's a counter. I know you have it.”

I laid my palm open before him. Zondorae made a disgusted noise in his throat. From out of the depths of one of his pockets, he extracted a collector, the tab to release the substance, colored red.

I knew it was what I needed. “How long?” I asked.

He sighed. “Twenty-four hours, maybe slightly longer.”

Perfect.

Howie's eyes widened.

I came to him.

“What are you doing, Caleb?” John asked, dragging Elise and Tiff behind him. My friends gathered around me, Brett stayed where he was, Jade was still sleeping and his injuries made him slow.

Gramps hobbled over to my position.

I looked him over. “You need an organic.”

“Yup.” He looked at Howie. “Do your thing, Caleb.”

I nodded. Turning, I slapped the dispenser on Howie's exposed arm, turning it in the opposite direction of collection.

He flinched as I watched the thing drain into his arm.

I had about one minute before he did the hyper jitter.

I thought about his words then I looked at the Chief, who pressed that blade back to the wounded position with relish. Howie hissed at the stinging pain, the metal biting at the rawness of the fresh wound that lay there. “Speak,” I told Howie like he was a dog.

Jonesy caught on quick, his arm around a woozy Sophie, Tracker scowling at the pair. “Roll over, play dead, be your own best friend.” He grinned.

Bry barked a laugh. “God Jones, you're killinʼ me!”

“I'm your man,” Jonesy bowed.

Archer rolled his eyes but he was smiling.

Howie looked at the Zondorae brothers. Resigned, he said, pegging them with all his attention, his power coming off him in waves. “Release all the females, fight anyone who resists,” Howie turned and looked at me, then his face turned back to them, “until your death.”

I watched as his will poured over the brothers. All their intellect, their determination and desire for power and control gone to the thing they had created.

Their monster had come to sit underneath their metaphorical beds.

They stood, Gary tucking his brother against them and they went to a far point in the field.

We followed.

I scoped the zombies who remained, their unwavering stare waited. I gave them one of the last commands they'd ever hear. They moved as one and surrounded Brett and Jade.

She slumbered like that princess from the fairy tale. The one that waits for her prince to wake her with a kiss.

I was that prince.

I would be back and with it, we'd be just like we were before.

My confidence was due to be shaken. I didn't know it then. But I was just beginning the battles of my life.

The women slipped out of the small, temporary dwellings with surprised glances and looks they shared with one another. There weren't many older women.

In this society, once a woman could no longer be bred, she would be disposed of. I didn't even need to be told. The relief and gratitude was on their faces.

Lifespan predicated on usefulness.

My friends huddled together, the girls staying close to the boys. Though Tiff came to stand next to me. “Nice move with Howie, Hart,” she said, giving me a guy clap on my back.

I was happier than hell about it myself. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw bulging eyes and a stiff body in the distance. Howie's command as strong and enduring as when he first gave it. The adrenaline would keep it pumping into the brothers until it wore off. With that kind of head start, I was pretty sure that the females of this fragment would get a good lead.

A chance at freedom.

The brothers told the females through gritted teeth, “You're free. Go.”

The males of the fragment came forward, and the brothers said, “Do not interfere.” They moved back, confusion and indecision plain on their faces. To allow females—worth so much in trade—to roam free? To possibly be picked up by a wandering Band? Unthinkable.

My thoughts exactly, a huge grin overtaking my face.

The guys in the group grinned as the women packed a type of leather backpack with minimal supplies.

I told John what I needed and his face about broke from his smile. “Not bad, Caleb.”

I nodded. “I get to have a bright idea once in awhile, Terran.”

He translated for the women what I'd asked of him.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem,” John replied then looked at Elise. Her dark hair shone underneath the heat of the late day sun. Those midnight blue eyes painfully big. Painfully astute.

“Caleb,” John began.

I swiftly looked at him. Then her.

Damn. John was crushing on the Organic.

“No man, you gotta leave her. She'll be alright.”

He glared at me. “She may not be!” he said in a loud voice.

Tiff's eyebrow lifted.

He said in a quieter voice, “What if she can't find the clan?”

“Did you give her the right coordinates?”

John gave a hard eye roll, folding his lean arms. “You know I did.” Pissed.

“John,” I began.

“Hey man,” Jonesy began slowly, “she's not a stray cat.”

John's hands fisted.

Jonesy threw his hands in the air. “I'm right bro, think about it.”

John stared at Elise.

She walked to him, her long skirt dragging slightly on the bright green grass. When Elise reached him she overcame her shyness, pushing a lock of deep red hair out of his eyes, and I saw it then. John had found someone he liked. And it sucked hind tit that she was in this world.

But she said it best when she spoke. “John Terran,” she began, pronouncing his last name oddly, like Ter-RAN, “I do not belong in this world of yours.” Elise stroked his hair away again then let her hand trail down his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his forearm, gazing into his eyes.

After a lengthy pause, John responded simply, “I know.”

They stared at each other for a full minute, the rest of us quiet. Finally, he pulled her against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “It does not lessen my desire to remain with you.”

Elise stepped away with a ghost of a smile. “This I know. And it has been one of my life's greatest gifts.”

John smiled and in front of his friends, the Zondoraes and God, he kissed her like he was a starving man with the last piece of fruit before him.

Elise stood on tiptoe and received the first kiss of her life. Without abuse, without condition.

She received the affection for the gift it was, letting the stolen moment of passion overwhelm her.

For a long journey awaited her.

And the love that moved over her lips in a velvet press of eager and unsophisticated passion might be the last genuine thing she could hang onto.

As the young man pulled away, he jerked her heart out of her chest with his departure.

It lay in his capable hands, throbbing and pulsing with unrequited love.

John's face ached as he pulled away from Elise. Their fingers parting after a kiss so long that it had swollen her lips. Finally, she and the other women made their way across the field and towards the Clan of Ohio. A place of safety. A place that afforded them a new life.

Before Elise slipped into the forest she turned a final time. She lifted her hand.

John lifted his in return. As I studied him, there something in his eyes. I wasn't sure what the emotion might be, but it appeared like it might be a promise.

Maybe John wasn't done here.

But I was.

Turning, I walked back from the field, never once glancing at the brothers. They would kill themselves in the end.

A justifiable death.

The zombies moved away like a sea parting from the bow of a swift moving boat, and there Jade lay, high color where an ashen pallor had been before. Gramps stood, barely. He hung, partially suspended between Clyde and Gale, Parker holding up the rear.

Randi came forward, all traces of the sedative gone, her eyes bright.

Ready.

My eyes scanned the broken fragment who littered the ground, stirring to consciousness. Many had lived when they had been thrown through the air like so much garbage. We needed to go before they woke up or they would have to die. And I was getting tired of the war. The killing.

Especially the Graysheets.

Randi closed her eyes, Alex holding onto her hand protectively.

I bid my zombies their final command. They fell away. As thought they were ducks to water, they swam through the broken planks of the auction platform, like plaque slipping through decaying teeth.

Home again.

The icy hotness encompassed the group as the strange inter-dimensional highway of Randi's power swarmed over our bodies. As it laid claim to Jade, her eyes opened and met mine.

I was never sure of their expression in that moment. Blackness descended, and we were hurtling through what lay between the dimensions.

My mind clung to what I had hoped I'd seen there.

Forgiveness.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I drove at a frantic pace straight from the dump to the medical clinic. Gramps was in tough shape. His skin had a gray cast. And for him, he was feistier than ever.

“Gramps, don't be stubborn, you admitted to me when we were in the sphere world that you needed an Organic!” I half yelled at him, taking the corners too fast as the safety restraints snapped hard against our torsos.

“Pay attention to your driving and stop worrying about me,” he wheezed out of his smashed nose.

Yeah, he was doing so good. My eyes met Clyde's in the rear view mirror.

He smirked. Nice to know the humor was contagious.

I'd left everyone at the dump. That'd seemed safer. Even with Parker there. Without his zombies. They were long gone, in pieces with my three of the Skopamish. I got a real pang of guilt over that. I hated my zombies getting Actually Dead because of me. Even the gophers having gotten the torch had been wrong on so many levels.

The clinic came into view. I screeched to a stop, parking in the emergent area. The pulse scanner read my license plate, automatically identifying the car, driver and time of day. There was no reporting stuff to the cops later. In this age of All Knowing Pulse Tech. the cops didn't have to scrounge for domestic violence or any kind of purposeful harm. If you arrived in a car and parked, you were cataloged.

I got out , jogging around to the other side of the car, where Clyde met me. The police station was located very close to the med clinic, so when Garcia pulled up my first thought wasn't a good one. But, he was suspended so why was he here?

Oh shit. He hadn't had the antidote.

Gramps knew immediately and yelled, “Caleb, watch it!”

Too late, Garcia, who was all but frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. He jumped on me and started whaling like there was no tomorrow.

If he didn't stop, there wouldn't be.

Clyde tore him off and flung him casually against a nearby tree. Garcia plowed into the trunk and cracked his head a good one.

I got up, swaying, feeling like I'd just finished a whole spin cycle inside the washing machine.

Nice.

I shook my head to clear it. “Hold him!” I said, ripping the top of the antidote off with my teeth, I spit it on the concrete sidewalk and strode toward Garcia. Clyde had his arms looped under and through Garcia's arms, pinning him against his chest.

“No!” he whipped his head from side to side.

Bobbi approached him, and his eyes found hers and he started to yell in earnest then, “Corpse whore! Undead slut!”

“May I bash him around? I could convince him of some reason,” Clyde asked casually.

I sighed, “No Clyde. You can open his mouth though.”

Clyde did, applying bruising force.

Garcia gagged, “Argh!” Muffled.

“Open up,” Clyde said like an evil dentist. He was enjoying this far too much.

I applied the drop, and Clyde forced Garcia's mouth closed, the absorption taking seconds. Clyde released Garcia slowly.

Bobbi frowned in apparent defeat. “Well, I guess we know what he really thinks.”

Maybe, but where did that leave me with Jade? She'd said some stuff too. Bad stuff. Things that I hadn't really known she felt so strongly about.

“Well that was handy, Caleb,” Gramps croaked.

Oh shit. I'd totally zoned on Gramps. He smiled crookedly at me. I saw he was missing some teeth.

Huh.

We took him inside the clinic and Jezebel the Organic was there. I bet she was thinking there was something wrong with the Hart family.

Or just me. I seemed to always be in the mix no matter what.

Gramps caught my eye from the examination table, “Go Caleb. Your folks need the antidote.”

Cripes-on-a-crutch, The Parents.

My mom was kinda crazy naturally.

I ran to the swinging doors, took one look at a dazed Garcia and launched myself at the Camaro. Clyde opened the door for Gale and she slid into the back seat.

Even with Clyde and Gale I felt alone in the car.

I'd never felt so lonely, or so determined in my life.

The Dog felt the Boy as he came, his intent as clear as if he had spoken. The Old Alpha had dropped the Dog off at the First Cave in which he had lived with this pack.

The Dog thought his coming was quite good.

For the Alphas in his pack were sick. The Dog did not know with what but the female was greatly affected. The female Alpha was muttering about things that made no sense. The Alpha male was playing the game with the ball that they threw into a net with holes.

Normally, he would play this game with his Boy. But today, the Alpha had been playing from the time the heat was upon the cave until it had almost gone.

He smelled of adrenaline and sweat. The Alpha male smelled of sickness.

The Alpha female had not been in the food place the entire day. His food dish stood empty.

The Dog whined, his tail pinned against his hindquarters. He stood, waiting forlornly by the hole that did not open. Standing watch for the return of his Boy.

When the thing that smelled of not good garbage rolled up outside the cave and his Boy got out, the Dog was not surprised.

The Dead One and a female who he knew from scent alone ran to the door.

The Dog wagged his tail for the first time that day. He saw his Boy give the Alpha a look of surprise and exchange a furtive glance with the Dead One.

Good. His Boy was aware of the sickness plaguing the Alphas.

He would rectify this imbalance.

I opened my car door.

Dad playing basketball. By himself.

Wow, this was weird. This was a work day, he should have been long gone into some lab excursion.

But the enhancer had changed all that, hadn't it?

But no. Here he was, almost suppertime and he had been playing ball... it looked like all day. He was wearing his pajamas.

I guessed he was expendable to the Graysheets, so they'd given my dad the enhancer. He'd done his gig for them. They had the map for humanity, getting me out of the way was critical.

But if they'd thought that I'd pull a suicide card or some stupid crap like that? Just because everyone I knew lost it? Well, they didn't know me very well. Sure it would have been... awful.

I thought of Jade systematically going crazy and shuddered. Maybe more than awful.

“Dad?” I said and he turned, his eyes dim, face slack.

Huh.

“Caleb?” Confused.

“Yeah, Dad. I have some medicine for you.”

He backed away, his eyes slid to Clyde. “What's he doing here?”

Great—and here comes the paranoia. Loved the side effects of this shit. I bet it wasn't FDA approved. Uh-huh. “He's just hanging out, Dad.”

“I'm not keen on corpses, son,” Dad said, trying to enunciate and failing. This enhancer crap must affect the speech area of the brain. When Dad was back on board, he'd let me know.

Clyde and I circled him like sharks in blood-infested waters.

Dad was strong but Clyde was stronger and I was determined.

We took him down on the three by three meter patch of sanctioned grass and nailed him with a drop.

Mom proved to be harder.

When I came to the door, Onyx stood there expectantly and I gave him a soft pat. “Where's Mom, boy?”

He whined in response, giving me a half-wag.

Things didn't look good.

Clyde stood in the open doorway, cradling my six foot-one, two hundred pound Dad against his chest like he was a sack of flour.

I jerked my head to the couch where a colorful afghan lay bunched. Not folded.

My eyes scanned the house. It was a wreck. And it didn't smell. The house was devoid of the good food smells. The kitchen lay unused and dark.

When Mom popped out of the pantry with a knife, Clyde deposited Dad on the couch, comatose. As Mom flew at Clyde, the silver of the blade glinted as the last of the afternoon light caught the metal arcing above her head.

“Clyde, watch out!” Gale yelled.

Onyx gave a sharp bark.

“Do not worry, Dear Heart,” Clyde said, latching on to Mom's arm like a cobra striking.

I didn't have to tell him to be gentle. My feelings were a river of emotion that bound us together—what I felt, he felt.

She was nuts but she was my mom.

The knife clattered to the floor. Bobbi picked it up, setting the weapon on the breakfast bar.

Mom struggled against the force that was Clyde.

It felt somehow wrong to have my zombie restrain Mom. Some things I think a son shouldn't have to do. Like watch their parents go crazy. Use the dead to save them.

Feel like killing everyone associated with the Graysheets.

I'm sure there would have been clear DI if I'd been tested at that moment. Mom struggled and flailed while Clyde held her still so I could give her the drop.

Gale sat on her legs.

I whispered, “Sorry Mom.”

Her grayish-blue eyes looked into mine and she said in a voice hoarse from shrieking, “You don't love me.”

That wasn't true. But in her impaired mental state, the made up reality inside her head was true to her.

“Don't listen, Caleb. She doesn't know what she's saying,” Gale stated logically.

Then why did it make me feel like dogshit? And why did it make me think of Jade?

We put Mom beside Dad on their bed. They slept like the dead.

Not even remotely funny.

I gulped, and bit back a sobbing hiccup, seeing my parents lying there like that.

Clyde put a hand on my shoulder, his hazel eyes pierced me, feeling the swollen waters of my emotions. “Some events make future ones clearer.”

I looked back at him while I listened to my parents breathing in the background. After a full minute I responded, “Much.” I was disgusted by the choices I'd been forced to make. Disgusted by the certainty of ones I'd have to make in the future.

The Graysheets had been perfectly right about one thing: I was definitely the threat they'd thought I was. But did the chicken come before the egg? That's what Gramps would have asked. If they hadn't put things in motion, would I have responded like I did? We'll never know. Because they did set those events in motion. And follow-through guy that I was, I finished my part.

We walked out, Onyx racing ahead of us to hop into the Camaro.

He'd sure gotten over his fear of cars.

The Dog saw that his Boy would leave. Casting a furtive glance at the Alphas resting peacefully in their inner sanctum, he shadowed his Boy until he made his way to the foul-thing-which-moved.

He loathed the box with its horrible acrid smells but sprinted toward it, hoping his Boy would take him. He had a sense that the Old Alpha needed him.

The Dog was loyal to his pack.

His Boy, the Dead One and his female (that is how he thought of the female, as she had that same smell that his Boy and the Dead One had), came to be in the car.

He wagged his tail and assumed an appealing stance.

His posture was successful as his Boy slid in beside him, giving him the rough pat that he'd come to love. The Dog knew that his Boy was most pleased.

Wag-thunk-wag.

****

Jade

Jade awoke in Brett's arms and instantly felt awkward. Where was she? She looked around. They were outside the hideaway. Her mind was thick and she felt groggy, like she'd had too much sleep. Jade tried to wrack her brains for what had happened. Her friends were milling around, talking quietly. They looked ragged, like they needed food, sleep and showers. Not necessarily in that order.

Jade attempted to stand.

Brett grunted.

“What?” she asked, getting upright and straightening. Her head spun and she threw a palm out, touching the fender of a stacked car. The cold metal was a relief. Solid, sure, there.

Brett responded, “My ribs, they're busted.”

Jade turned to face him, looking up at him. Gawd, when had everyone grown up? She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. Then she remembered Howie and fear loomed.

Brett saw her face and reached out for her. She allowed her hand to be taken and her Empath vibes came online.

He loved her. Brett loved her. T-M-effing-I. Jade snatched her hand away and he just stared.

After a bloated pause of a few seconds, he spread his palms out to the side of this body. “I don't have anything to hide, Jade. Ya know what the deal is.” He studied her some more, asking the question that kept them safely out of Mondo Awkward Territory, “What scared you?”

“Where's Howie?” she asked in response.

Brett glanced behind her and she saw a strung out Howie, his mouth duct taped.

With cheetah print tape.

Jade's eyes found Sophie's and she giggled, shrugging. “It's what I had.”

What girl carried animal print duct tape? Better question: what girl carried duct tape anyway?

She caught Alex staring and he smirked, waggling his eyebrows and Randi punched him and he laughed.

Perv-boy.

Tiff said, “It's the shit. On a desert island, that'd be one of the things I'd have for sure.” Tiff thought about it some more, “and gum.” A bubble went off like a bomb.

Jade shook her head, a small smile touching her lips.

Then she heard a familiar car pull up outside the fence of the Kent Refuse Station and the smile faded.

Caleb tore out of the Camaro, his eyes searching the area behind the fence for one person.

Jade.

He didn't see her, but John came to the gate, pulling the lock from the inside and sliding the numbers into position.

It didn't work.

Archer walked over there.

John said, “Pre-pulse, Lewis.”

His eyes met John's. “Haven't met a lock that I couldn't romance, John.”

“Right,” John said, stepping aside for Archer.

“Is Jade okay?” I asked through the metal holes in the fence.

John nodded. “Yes, but I think there is some residual,” he waved his hand back and forth, “influence to contend with.”

Jonesy grinned. “People who were more affected are going to be crazier than shit for the duration, Hart.”

John rolled his eyes. “So helpful Jonesy.”

“I know, right?” He winked at me.

Effing marvelous.

I wouldn't feel calm until Jade and I could talk like normal people. Well, normal for having AFTD and Empath abilities. But maybe we could save future generations from the great experience we'd had, courtesy of the Graysheets. We weren't meant to have these talents yet. It'd been a forced leap on the evolutionary ladder of our future that humanity wasn't prepared for.

But right now what mattered was getting to Jade—seeing how she was doing. What Brett had planned. Then there was Howie. Complications, complications. The story of my life.

Archer caressed the lock and it broke open like spoiled fruit.

I passed through and my eyes went straight to Jade, her hair hanging in limp strands, dark circles underneath her green eyes, filthy clothes.

She was the sweetest sight on the planet.

I stopped myself from running to her and scooping her up into some dramatic embrace like I wanted to. The effort not to wasn't pretty, but I managed. Actually, love was a mess. Why did everyone want it? The mystery of life.

As I got nearer, her stare caused a flutter of uncertainty to well inside me. But my steps never faltered. All I saw was Jade.

It was simple, I loved her.

Jade

Caleb came and she could feel his emotional signature before he touched her.

He didn't need to have physical contact, Jade was tuned into it intimately. You didn't have to touch someone you'd been through that much with. Someone you knew that well.

At least she didn't.

Jade felt a tingle in her body as she watched Caleb, his perfect, muscular body, full of lithe grace, approach her even as his face hardened when he caught sight of Brett standing behind her.

He made her tremble, her need for him was so great. Caleb was her sinful addiction. Jade was dependent on him. He made her feel safe in a world that had been torn into shreds all around her.

That's why she'd have to let him go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I saw Jade's expression and didn't want to believe it. I embraced my denial like a drowning victim.

Jade came forward and took both my hands in hers. I knew she was saying goodbye, and it didn't even matter if it was the enhancer still surging through her bloodstream, or the connection to Brett. If I had to lose Jade... I didn't know if I could face it.

Survive it.

Instead, I wrapped her small body against mine and pressed her against me. When I knew she wanted the space I released her just enough to search her face. There was love there, yes.

But there was resolution too. Jade had worked something out in her mind, and I hated whatever it was.

Brett looked at me over her head, and I knew somehow he was the cause of it.

“It isn't Brett,” Jade said in a flat voice.

“How do ya know, Jade?” I asked her, gripping those small shoulders, staring into eyes that were determined, dark.

“I've figured out what I want out of life. I don't want to be protected anymore. I don't want to have to be.”

I shook my head, dismissing her words. “Do you love me?”

Tears welled in Jade's eyes, she was killing me. She said softly, “You know I do.”

“Then let us be together!” My voice rose to a yell.

“It's the drug, Jade,” John said. “It's going to skewer all your logic.” He spread his tapered fingers on either side of his body. “You won't feel normal for a whole revolution.”

“What?” Jade asked, turning to him.

John shrugged. “It'll be twenty-four to forty-eight hours before you can figure anything out as you normally would.”

Sophie snorted. “I feel pretty weird still.”

“That seems normal to me,” Tiff muttered to herself.

Even though we all heard.

Sophie narrowed her eyes on Tiff.

My attention refocused on Jade but she shook her head again. “I love you, but I don't want this life. The zombies, the violence—all of it. I'm tired, Caleb. I just want a normal life like every other teenage girl.”

Jade's eyes begged me to understand. I just couldn't wrap my mind around her logic. We weren't normal. This was the new normal. Paranormals were never going to have a regular existence. Having an existence of any kind, that was the goal. I knew that.

I looked around at my friends and saw a lot of them getting the concept too.

My eyes shifted back to Jade's as I heard the first chopper in the air.

The Graysheets had arrived, and with it, all semblance of normal and all the other things Jade had been talking about floated away on the wind like decaying leaves.

One idea at a time, lost to the storm of the Graysheets.

Jade and I stood uncomfortably close, so close as to touch, but—not.

Brett stood on the other side of her. I was so shell-shocked by her breaking up with me that I couldn't even rouse interest in the Arch Enemies touching down. They used pulse choppers so they were utterly silent. Only the movement of the air they dispersed let me know they'd arrived. And their ominous presence, suits and all.

The first of them departed the chopper before the blades stopped their rotation.

My stomach fell as I saw who stepped out first.

The Zondorae brothers.

Parker blanched, he couldn't contain his expression as Clyde, picking up on my surprise and unease came to stand flank my position.

“I must ask: did we not leave these delinquents in the world of spheres?” Clyde asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why then are they here?”

I didn't know.

I could tell Parker didn't.

Then Jonesy said, “Didn't we leave these asswipes behind on purpose?” He looked at Randi. “You didn't like—do some kind of overlap and drag these two trolls along by accident. Cuz, there aren't enough bridges for these guys here. Nope!” He threw up his hands. “All our bridges in this world are full up!” He folded his arms and glared at the brothers.

“You can't beat us, Caleb Hart,” Joe said.

I wasn't thinking about winning right then, but handing him his ass sounded about right.

I moved automatically.

Gary tsk-tsked me. “No, Hart. For somebody that is so smart, you think with the primitive side of your brain too much.”

“I didn't bring them,” Randi said softly, as if to convince herself.

Gary looked at Randi, Alex pressed her in against his body protectively. “No, not by plan. But the echo of your power was enough for us to caboose a ride on your tailwind.”

Randi paled, obviously thinking that somehow, she was responsible for the Frankenstein Scientists reentry into our world.

Effing fantastic.

The brothers looked at Parker and smirked. “We know that you helped him, that you allowed sensitive and classified genetic information into the hands of teenagers. There will be a reckoning for you. As of now, we do not have clearance to end you, but there will be a new protocol of control, Cadaver-Manipulator.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you. You don't rank higher than me. You boys have done the bidding of our superiors. You have nothing new to offer. Me?” Parker jabbed a thumb into his athletic chest. “I can still raise people to manipulate for the good old U.S. of A.”

“Not from where we're going to keep you, Parker,” Joe Zondorae said, raising his gun to point it at Parker's chest.

They were gonna load him up with the juice.

Parker's power washed over and through me like a wave of death.

I instantly folded underneath the call.

The rats came from every corner of the dump, their red eyes feral in the low light of late afternoon. Shit, that was swift.

Then Zondorae pulled the trigger, impaling Jeffrey Parker in the chest. The short dart waved like an obscene flag out of one of his pecs. “Caleb!” he shouted to me, throwing me the undead lasso.

Let's see if I can catch it. I did, but the damnedest thing happened. Four suits went for Jade just as I was getting the hang of someone else's undead leash.

As Parker lost the battle with consciousness, the four Graysheets laid hands on my girl. Who wasn't my girl any longer. But that didn't matter, my heart wasn't a pulse switch. That light inside me still burned for Jade like the torch it was.

An eternal flame.

Jade's scream pierced the air.

I stopped thinking, it was that fast. I didn't even decide jack. I dropped the supernatural rope that Parker had launched at me to wield, seamlessly picking up my other role.

Defender.

The rats scurried, thinking they were off the hook for good. No undead tether to hold them to the open, their nocturnal habitat unnaturally illuminated by a human who had called them after their last meal was long past.

I threw my own command at them, picking up the signature they put out. I let that shift of undead energy shove out of me in a great, surging pulse and the rats stopped in their tracks, whiskers twitching.

Then the suits started shooting my rats, blowing them to bits, where the trembling globs of dead flesh trembled, still trying to move and honor my command.

Which hadn't been complicated. I was controlling death and probation be damned. I'd reached the end of my patience. My girl was in danger—Parker unconscious. These dickheads had fucked with the fam.

I was doing a Carrie on them.

The rats moved forward in a wave of slick and coiled bodies of fleshy and hairy resistance. A wave of rats slithered through the grass and attached themselves to the ankles of the Graysheets.

They blew them away. One dipshit blew off his own foot in his panic to nail the rat.

“Nice!” Jonesy fist-pumped, thrilled by Mr. Footless.

Blood pumped out of his foot for my dead rats to feast on as the Graysheets began to haul Jade toward the chopper.

Brett moved in.

“Stand down, pal,” I said from somewhere outside my body.

Brett looked at me curiously as I called every rat within a one mile radius. I was pleased when not just rats came. Of course, some of the rats were the size of small cats.

“Okay... goddamn... get that girl and let's get out of here!” Gary said, panic seeping in as he saw the Rodent Contingent.

I swept the net of power further just as one of the suits pressed the cold barrel of an M-5 against Jade's temple. Her eyes were so wide all I could see were the whites.

I speared the power of the dead at him, his gun—his arm.

Five of the rats nearest him sprung, mouths wide, tiny teeth like razors in their mouths.

Stupidly, he tried to use the gun like a fly swatter.

But these weren't flies, they were instruments of death, wielded by my deadly accuracy and fueled by my fear of possible harm to Jade.

Two landed simultaneously on his gun hand, and reflexively he depressed the trigger as Brett came into range of grabbing Jade.

He should have stayed back like I'd said.

A spray of bullets, their noise unmasked, plugged Brett in the chest and he went flying backward as if pulled by an invisible hand. His body shot backward and Jade slumped in a dead faint.

My eyes met Joe Zondorae.

The suits that weren't buried underneath my rats dragged Parker into the chopper. The blades began to rotate again, the remaining suits trained their guns on my friends, even the ones that tried to go to Brett. Who almost certainly lay dying. Bleeding out on the ground of the dump.

Unnoticed.

The suit dropped Jade on the ground where she smacked her head.

I actually growled at that, and two rats ran to his pant leg, latching on with zeal. He howled, trying to shake them off, finally blowing them away. His aim was better than that of his lame friend. His feet stayed attached to his legs.

I watched as the brothers stole Parker, Clyde following their progress as two of the suits finally caught a clue and got the flaming guns. Those would do some real harm to my rats. I allowed my flock of dead rodents to retreat. Stalemate.

I just wanted Jade over here and safe. My eyes flicked to Brett, breathing coming in ragged gasps. If I was normal, I wouldn't have known for sure what his prognosis was. But I wasn't. I had Affinity for the Dead. The ability told me surer than anything could have.

Brett would be dead soon.

The Zondorae brothers unceremoniously hauled Parker inside the chopper, dumping him in a pile on the floorboards. All the while the Graysheetsʼ guns were trained on my friends. The girls silently crying, the guys with frustrated expressions on their face.

Clyde's hair lifted in the artificial air pumping from the chopper blades. “They have not the right.”

“We do, my friend,” Zondorae said, pointing his gun at my zombie. I knew a second before he shot Clyde what would happen.

Gale leaped in front of Clyde.

He could have taken twenty bullets. But it would only take one to kill her. The bullet hit Gale in the chest and the thick sound of it entering her body made Clyde and I groan with its impact.

The chopper started to sweep into the sky.

“Shit!” Alex roared.

“The dick holes!” Jonesy ranted, running to step in beside where Brett lay.

Jade began to wake in the arms of Sophie. She and Mia lifted her to a standing position.

I went to Clyde and knew what I needed to do.

“Master,” Clyde breathed. My relation, my zombie.

My friend.

He turned his head to the side and a very human emotion stood there. Fear and grief, mingled in a bitter pill of stark realization. “Save her,” he begged.

I grabbed Bobbi Gale's small hand and felt death at the edges. I could taste it. I wrapped my hand around Clyde's hand and hers, taking what I'd given.

I took some of the life I'd given Clyde and siphoned it off him for Gale. As she bloomed like a flower, his spark faded.

“Oh no,” Randi moaned, seeing the transformation in Clyde. His hair dulled, his eyes losing their lively spark. The muscular build of his youth, his life—shriveled into the shell of his body. His zombie nature reared its head even as Gale opened her eyes.

She pegged him with her gaze and told me, “Stop.”

“Not yet,” I said, never wanting to stop something more than I did in that moment. Had they stood in front of me right then I could have killed the Zondorae brothers.

Twice.

Finally, the process was complete. The bullet had popped out of her chest as if purged and she sat up, taking Clyde's skeletal hand in hers. Gale was utterly unaffected by Clyde's new appearance.

Who knew how long it would last?

But right now, he was all-zombie, his life-like appearance stolen for the gift of her life.

“I know that I am not the handsome man you have come to love, Dear Heart,” Clyde said from a mouth that could no longer speak the dulcet notes of the past.

She pressed her hand to his softened face. “I loved you when you were rotting.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed, wrapping his arms around her, mindful of his zombie strength.

“Caleb!” Lewis Archer yelled.

I whipped my head around to where he was yelling and saw Brett seizing.

Holy hell.

I sprinted to Brett. Jade sat next to him, holding his hands.

Her tears dropped on him like warm rain and I felt pity well inside me. He'd been my enemy for so long I hadn't really ever seen him as anything else. But I knew what Brett Mason really was. What he'd been.

Brave.

In trying to save Jade, he'd gotten shot for his trouble.

Dead.

His body gave one last lurch and he flung his hand out, capturing my shirt. Jerking me down next to his face with the last of his strength, his whisper was hoarse, “Take care of her.”

Our gazes locked for the last time, mine absent of the rancor of our past. I nodded. “I will.”

I felt his life slip away, his eyes glazing over with the fog of the recently dead. The new dead. I felt him inside the count of the dead that still lingered within the scope of my call.

Brett now waited with the others.

Jade let Brett's limp hand fall to rest beside his body. Tilting her head to the sky she wailed into the still twilight. Her despair was like crystal shards in the air.

Breathing it left me bleeding.

****

Jade didn't resist when I pulled her against my body, my eyes meeting the rest of the group. Mia looked all around us and then she said in a quiet fearful voice, “Where's Howie?”

“Eff, that goddamned Manipulative is prancing around somewhere?” Jonesy said, his eyes roving to Brett's still form.

We looked around us, finding nothing but a pile of zip ties, the plastic shredded in loose piles. He'd escaped his bindings. The directive to the Zondorae brothers fulfilled, still high on adrenaline and loose amongst the populace.

I pressed Jade's head under my chin and called, “John.”

“Yes?” John asked, straightening after putting the only blanket we had over Brett. I glanced at the lump that used to be Brett and swallowed. “Pulse 911.”

“Caleb—are you sure?” Tiff asked, gumless. Her mouth lay silent, her eyes serious.

“They may throw your ass in the local holding tank, Hart,” Bry said.

I nodded, maybe. But Brett deserved to be handled with dignity.

“I don't like it,” Jonesy said in a contemplative tone. We all turned to him. Jonesy wasn't introspective. “I mean, that place is corn cob central.” he trailed off.

Archer sighed. “Would you stop with that? Not everything has to have a homosexual reference, Mark.”

“Yeah, exit only, pal—ya feel me?”

“Jonesy, this is like a solemn moment here. Brett's dead, the cops are going to come and maybe Caleb's going to be in even worse trouble?” Sophie tried to appeal to Jonesy's decorum.

Right.

Jonesy shrugged. “I'm just sayinʼ—preparinʼ Hart for stuff.”

“Don't—ʼkay?” I said over Jade's head as the first of the cruisers pulled up in a loose V outside the gates of the dump.

Game over.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The ghost turds traveled along the cheap vinyl flooring of what used to be the Frazier house, swirling around in big fuzzy dirt clumps with the breeze that came through the door.

But no more.

Jade and I stood in the open doorway. The place had been stripped. Jade didn't have anything left.

Well, that wasn't exactly true.

We'd found her broken dreamcatcher behind some loose lumber that lay underneath the basement steps.

The same scrap lumber that Howie had used to beat me but two weeks ago.

The Graysheets had come and cleaned house. All of us knew who the Fraziers had really been. Just a plant family. Their sole purpose had been to set up my unraveling.

The unravel that never happened.

They'd have to bite the bullet and just off my ass if they wanted to get rid of me that bad. It might come to that, after all.

The police had launched a full investigation into the death of Brett Mason. We'd given hours of personal testimonies. They weren't entirely satisfied, but the whole group of friends corroborated my story so they couldn't nail me with using the dead. Even though I had.

Just not in the way they suspected.

Brett's death was truly an accident. Although, some could say that he wouldn't have died if he hadn't been carried along by the wind of our paranormal travels. Basically, it was death by association.

Then there was the matter of all the bruises and healing bones—years of collective damage on Brett. The coroner had enough evidence of systematic abuse to put the dad away. And throw away the key.

Guess who was gonna get the corn cob treatment? Couldn't have happened to a more swell guy. We were all happy about the outcome. Brett could have transcended into someone of value if he'd lived an alternate life. Check. End the end, he had been of value. Had. Now he was a statistic. But we weren't going to forget Brett. His main flaw had been loving Jade.

Not that it could be a flaw. I totally understood his problem.

I turned and pressed a kiss on Jade's still-damp hair, fresh from the same shower I used every day. She was living under my roof now. We were all terrified of whatever may happen in the few days leading up to her legal emancipation.

Anything could happen. You'd think she'd be automatically off the hook when the foster family she'd been assigned to live with suddenly were no longer living in the home of record.

All their shit gone.

Not a scrap of paper, or even a coin. Only the lonely dreamcatcher stood testimony that Jade had ever lived there.

Suspicious-much, guys.

Gramps had taken the time to get fifteen trillion reams of paperwork filed that allowed a temporary stay of Jade's living circumstance. I'd moved back into my house and she had the spare bedroom. I sat on my hands so I wouldn't sneak in there for some Quality Time.

Then I remembered the lecture from the experts.

“She's been through a great deal Caleb,” my AFTD teacher said, giving the whole group of us a long stare.

“Brett Mason's death, considering their connection via your Life-Transference,” he shrugged, folding his arms across his chest, “well, it had to have been more of an influence than any of us realized.”

“What?” Jonesy asked, earning a scowl of barely-there patience from my teacher. “She like—was his slave or something?”

“Yeah,” Tiff said, snapping gum.

He held out the separator.

“Ugh!” Tiff griped, spitting the slick wad out into the proper slot and plunking her butt on an empty seat.

“I don't think it's that extreme but let's ask Jade.”

All eyes went to her.

Jade blushed, uncomfortable with the attention and gave a small shrug. “I don't know, everything felt natural between Brett and I,” she said, sliding her eyes to mine.

I nodded to her. I was the one that established the connection, I couldn't exactly bitch about it now.

“Anyway, he uh... when he died,” she took a deep, shuddering breath and I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, stroking her arm as I did. Jade smiled gratefully and went on, “I felt this release from something I didn't even know was there.”

“What?” John asked.

“Like I couldn't be with Caleb.” She looked at me then finished, “I didn't want to be with Brett but being with Caleb didn't feel right anymore.”

“Then there was the other issue,” Archer said, giving a glance to the teacher.

We all got him. Not in front of mixed company.

Actually, the translation was: not in front of adults. Technically, with us all emancipated, we were. But somehow we still felt separate from them.

“What issue?” he asked.

Alex shrugged. “It's nothing.”

It wasn't nothing but we weren't going to reveal all that to him. It was something we were still dealing with.

It had taken a full week for the enhancer to wear off. It had been one of the longest weeks of my life. Remembering Jade's withdrawals—Sophie's. The emotional upheaval, a roller coaster of crap I didn't ever want to ride again. Who even knew what the long-term ramifications were?

The trail of my memories broke when Jade spoke, “I guess this is it, isn't it?”

I looked around at the dump she'd lived in and exhaled in relief. It was over. She'd be moving into her own, government-funded dwelling for minors. A place that was close, secure and clean. This weekend she'd be seventeen and that's how we'd celebrate, her new digs.

“Yeah, this is it,” I agreed.

We stepped out of the doorway hand in hand and she closed the door softly behind her, pressing her thumb to the lock pad.

The pulse-activated lock flashed its reading:

Jade LeClerc, authorized, 3:42 PM.

Frazier residence, Secured.

We left without looking back, her small hand clasped in my larger one, the dreamcatcher held tightly in the other.

If only it could protect her from more than nightmares.

EPILOGUE

Jade shivered inside her pink puffy and I pulled her closer to my body. It was only my friends and me by the gravesite. Hell, Carson Hamilton hadn't made an appearance. He couldn't be bothered to pay his respects.

Not for anyone.

Pewter clouds roiled above our heads, spatters of rain hitting the plain pine casket. I heard the dead weeping. At least I felt I could. Tiff was across Brett's casket when our eyes met and she nodded. She must've felt it too. We were burying a guy that hadn't even been my friend. But somehow, in death, we moved beyond our mutual hate.

Because of love.

We'd both loved Jade and she'd made an unlikely alliance between us. Now that he was gone, that postmortem regard remained. Brett held a different place in my memory now.

Respect.

He'd risen above the terrible circumstances of his upbringing to selflessly provide protection for another. It didn't matter if I hadn't liked his delivery of said protection. He'd given it. And his caretaking had saved Jade. More than once. In the end, he hadn't even begrudged me that I would be with her. He'd simply died, peaceful that she'd be happy, even if it wasn't with him.

Unconditional love.

If Brett Mason could give that, feel that—maybe there was hope.

For everyone.

The priest stopped the drone of his words of atonement and the ever after. Just as the rain started in earnest, we left the gravediggers to their chore.

We ran to the Camaro. Myself, with Jade's hand in mine as we fought sliding on the slick grass that grew between the tombstones. Death whispered as I jogged past, the rain smacking fat drops on my exposed skin, the chill of it sinking into my flesh.

I heard Sophie squeal and glanced over my shoulder as she fell on her butt—she and Jonesy hitting the slick ground in an unbalanced tangle of limbs.

I opened the door for Jade, and she slid into the Camaro. Turning back, I jogged to Jonesy and Sophie. I picked her up by a soaked arm, fighting my balance on the sodden grass.

She started complaining about her outfit was full of mud but I wasn't listening.

Because off in the distance I saw a figure I'd recognize anywhere.

Howie Frazier smiled. He pointed at me like his hand was a gun and pulled the trigger. I knew what his message was, see ya around, Hart.

I swiveled my head to the Camaro, making sure Jade was tucked in there and safe. Her face, a warped image through the glass of the window, stared back.

I shifted my gaze back to the border of the forest where Frazier had been.

He was gone.

My friends gathered around me, their eyes trailing after my stare. Seeing nothing, Alex asked, rain plastering his hair to his head, “What's going on?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“Right,” Jonesy said, tapping his forehead. “I don't have to be psychic to hear my bullshit meter go off.”

“Nice, Jones. Can't a guy stare?” Tiff said, her bubble not popping for the rain.

“Him, no.”

They looked at me.

I stared back. I shrugged. “I'll let ya know when there's something to worry about.”

“There's always something to worry about, Caleb,” John said, giving me serious eyes.

Eyes that weren't fooled.

“True,” I conceded.

I walked off to the Camaro where Jade was waiting, rain running inside my collar, soaking the shirt so it lay like a wet blanket against me.

Their burning inquiry followed me all the way there and well after I pulled away from Scenic Cemetery.

I drove into a future of uncertainty and questions left unanswered. Why did the Graysheets allow me to live if I was such a threat? Why was Frazier cruising around like a lab rat gone bad? What had happened to Parker? And lastly, what could be done to stop the agenda of the Zondorae brothers?

I looked at my girl next to me and Jade leaned into my shoulder as I drove, smelling delicious.

I knew one thing, I was gonna get to the bottom of it all.

Even if it killed me.

––––––––

THE END