Tora took a deep breath as they sped through the railway system. Aspen was making it virtually impossible to stay focused. She didn’t have time for these antics. Neither of them did.
She found herself thinking about Aspen’s hug. No one had ever hugged her like that before. She’d felt safe, connected, and cared about. There was something else, too. Hugging Aspen had made her feel vulnerable in a way she wasn’t accustomed. For some reason, it had brought back all the pain of losing her father.
She’d ended her last relationship with a hospital colleague shortly after her father passed away. Neither of them had been emotionally invested. They’d only been dating a few months, if you’d even call it dating. More like friends with benefits. Now that she thought about it, there was never really a friendship to speak of. Their arrangement had simply provided a convenient means to sex. She was much too busy at that time in her life to want or allow for anything deeper.
Hard to believe two years had passed since she was intimate with someone. Had it really been that long? She’d been too busy to notice. So many Shrouds had been murdered in the last few years. It was simply too risky to form attachments. Chances were good they’d end up dead before long.
Her decision to keep everyone at arm’s length wasn’t a conscious one, she realized, but it was practical. She had a sanctuary to run and big shoes to fill in her father’s absence. Putting up walls and staying focused on productivity for the good of her people made sense two years ago. It made even more sense now because more was at stake.
Aspen was working feverishly to get inside those walls. And succeeding, Tora admitted. If they took this any further, their feelings would only serve as a distraction for both of them. Too much was on the line to allow this to continue. She had to put a stop to…whatever this was. Now.
“We’re coming up on chamber two. Park behind the other trolleys.”
“Copy that.” Aspen slowed the trolley to a stop and cut the engine.
“I’m not gay,” she blurted. “I only said that so you wouldn’t feel self-conscious during our melding session.”
Aspen just stared at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said honestly.
Long seconds ticked by as they held one another’s gaze. The connection between them was palpable. Tora looked away.
“Why were you crying when we hugged?”
The question caught her off-guard. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just tell me why.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“And telling you I tried to kill myself when I was a kid was none of your business. I chose to share that with you because I trusted you enough to tell you the truth.”
Aspen was right. Sharing that had taken courage. Tora hadn’t considered the trust factor until now. Part of her yearned to explore their connection. Momentarily conflicted, her resolve to keep Aspen at arm’s length faltered.
“I think you’re starting to have feelings for me, and that scares you,” Aspen went on. “You’ve kept yourself out of everyone’s reach for a long time—maybe your whole life, I don’t know. I think you’re hiding…like a mouse. But you’re a lion, Tora.”
Tora’s back went up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re hiding behind your responsibilities here at the sanctuary. If this place spontaneously combusted, I’m sure you’d find something else to hide behind. You take life way too seriously—”
“And you think everything’s a joke!” she shouted, her temper slipping from her grasp. “You’re impulsive, inexperienced, impetuous. If someone doesn’t rein you in—namely, me—you’ll likely get us all killed!”
Still side by side in the trolley, they locked eyes. She was fuming. How dare Aspen accuse her of being a coward?
“I don’t hide, Tora, no matter what. When you’re ready to stop hiding, come find me.” She looked over Tora’s shoulder and cleared her throat. “I’d prefer to make a dramatic exit here, but you’re blocking my way. Climbing over you, all angry and indignant, would just be comical and defeat the point entirely.”
Tora threw open the trolley door and stepped out. Aspen couldn’t even make it through an argument without cracking a joke.
“And another thing,” Aspen said, climbing out from the trolley. “Insulting me with words I don’t know the meaning of is just plain dumb.”
Tora crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“What the hell does impetuous mean anyway?”
Tora sighed. “Go join the others. I need to check on the newborns.”
“If you ask me nicely, I’ll do it.”
“Do what?” she asked absently. Tora brought her fingers to her temple. A headache was galloping around the track, headed straight for her at top speed.
“Join the others.” Aspen sighed. “It’s called asking politely. Here, allow me to demonstrate.” She hopped to the opposite side of where she’d been standing and pretended to address herself as Tora. “Aspen, can you please join the others so I can go do some important doctor stuff?”
Without a word, Tora climbed back inside the trolley, put the trolley in gear, and sped away. What she needed right now was physical distance from Aspen.
She took a deep breath as the overhead torches ignited, illuminating the tunnels before her. These tunnels were more familiar to her than the hallways in her house on the surface. She felt relief wash over her as she was alone once again.
Time to regroup, get herself squared away. At this point, perhaps it was best to let someone else take over Aspen’s training. But who? She mentally reviewed the list of available candidates and sighed. There was no one else.
Maybe Aspen had a point. Was she using her responsibilities as an excuse to make herself inaccessible to everyone around her?
She braked to a stop at the hospital’s entrance and squeezed her eyes shut against the headache that was now an all-out migraine. The pain was almost unbearable.
* * *
The sound of fluttering wings echoed through the tunnels. Tora felt a slight draft against the side of her body as a small white bird landed on the seat beside her. A dove. For a moment, she wondered if it was Hope, but this presence felt annoyingly familiar. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the headrest, the light from the overhead torches like branding irons on her brain.
Aspen’s voice interrupted the stillness. “You have a migraine.”
So the Myriad had taught herself how to fly. She was a quick study. With a little luck, their training sessions together would be brief. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Call it one of my newly emerging talents as a Myriad. I can sense you’re in a lot of pain.”
“I’m not in the mood to talk right now, Aspen.”
“Would you prefer we sit here in an uncomfortable silence while I watch you suffer?”
“Whatever you’re doing—however you’re causing this—you can stop now. You’ve made your point.”
“I’m not the one causing it…exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean, exactly?” Tora felt her temper flare up again, which made her heart beat faster and the throbbing worse.
“Your migraine—I think it’s being caused by the anger you’re feeling toward me.”
That theory was beyond ridiculous. She kept her eyes closed and brought both hands to her temples. “Are you saying I’m the one causing this?”
“Yep.”
“I can’t see your face right now—because if I open my eyes, my eyeballs will leap from my skull to escape the pain in my head—but I’m definitely sensing a self-satisfied smirk.”
“I prefer smug-yet-playful smile.”
“How do I make this stop?” Tora didn’t know how much more agony she could withstand.
“Two choices. Either you put some distance between us, or you talk about what’s upsetting you.”
“Option A.” Tora squinted through her eyelashes, tapped the ignition switch, and put the trolley in drive.
“I neglected to mention how far.”
She hesitated. “How far?”
“Tahiti should do it.”
Tora put the trolley in park and cut the engine, feeling suddenly nauseous from the pain. At this point, she was willing to do just about anything to make it go away.
“Guess that leaves option B,” Aspen said. “I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I’m a really good listener.”
She swore she could hear Aspen grinning.
“Unless there’s someone else you’d like to talk to.”
Tora couldn’t think of a single Shroud. She confided in no one.
“Exactly what I thought. You’re a loner. You keep everything close to the chest. Am I right?”
“That’s what a good leader does.”
“Good leaders strive to find balance between meeting their responsibilities and taking care of themselves. They realize they can’t possibly do everything alone. Good leaders have an inner circle of people they trust—a support system, if you will. Do you have that?”
Tora shook her head, instantly regretting it as the pain ratcheted up another notch.
“Why not?”
“I work best alone.”
“Not buying it. Try again.”
Tora tried to think through the pain. “I prefer to work alone.”
“Why?” Aspen pressed.
“Because most Shrouds can’t stay alive long enough for me to count on them.” She felt the truth of her words like a punch to the stomach.
“And that makes you feel…?”
“Scared,” Tora admitted. “I’m afraid of depending on someone only to lose them.” The pain in her head instantly diminished as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She opened her eyes and sat up.
“Welcome back,” Aspen said, studying her. “How do you feel?”
“Better, but the headache is still there.” She met Aspen’s gaze. “Why isn’t it gone?”
Aspen shrugged. “Maybe it means you’re still holding on to something.”
Tora already regretted what she’d shared so far. “Like what?”
“Like, oh, I don’t know, your feelings for me?”
“I already told you, I’m not gay.” Tora brought both hands to her head as the migraine returned with a vengeance. This headache was like Pinocchio’s nose. “Are you doing this, Aspen?”
“I swear on my life, I am not giving you that headache.”
Felt like it was escalating from a migraine to a brain aneurysm. Dammit. “Okay, okay. That’s a lie. And yes, I do have feelings for you.” Just like that—poof—the pain was totally gone.
“See?” Aspen reached over to take her hand. “Was that so bad?”
Tora pulled away. “I said I have feelings for you. I didn’t say I wanted to act on them.”
Aspen nodded. “Baby steps. I can roll with that.”
“Trust me,” she said through clenched teeth. “There’s nothing to roll with.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay.” Aspen raised both hands in surrender.
“Can we go inside please, so I can check on the newborns?”
“As long as you keep your anger in check.”
“That won’t be an issue, as long as you keep your talking to a minimum.”
“I’ve been told I have a very soothing voice.”
Tora couldn’t argue with that. There was a calming, hypnotic quality to Aspen’s voice that she found extremely appealing. “I hadn’t noticed.” And just like that, the headache was back. Her hands moved to her temples once again.
“Another lie?” Aspen asked. “This is fun.”
Tora rubbed her temples furiously. “If I find out you’re responsible for this—”
“I promise you”—Aspen laughed—“I’m not.”
“Glad you find this funny.”
“What I find funny is you’re a living, walking lie detector, detecting your own lies.”
Tora laughed in spite of herself.
“Here’s what we’ve established so far: you’re gay, you like me, and you think my voice is sexy. Anything else you’d like to add?”
Tora hesitated, reluctant to admit that Aspen was right. “That’ll do for now.” Once again, the pain in her head subsided. She was tempted to deny the sexy part, but it just wasn’t worth the risk.
* * *
Aspen followed Tora into the hospital to check on the newborns. After the recent evacuation of all nonessential personnel, the hospital looked deserted. Save for the sound of a TV in a nearby waiting room, the place was eerily quiet and still.
She felt the newborns’ excitement at seeing her. Their connection and awareness of one another was growing. One by one, she was able to sense each of the distinct personalities.
There was one in particular who’d already caught her attention—the rogue Myriad of the bunch. Independent, sassy, and fearless, Raven was a born troublemaker. Aspen liked her already.
But there was a dark side to Raven that she’d have to keep her eye on. Raven and Hope would lock horns on more than one occasion for control of the group. Hope, Aspen knew, would always prevail. But Raven would grow resentful and restless over time. Aspen knew it was her job to keep the peace between the two and mentor Raven as best she could. She had her work cut out for her with that one.
It was appropriate that Raven’s primary animal was a black raven—brazen, loud, and, at times, taunting. That was Raven to a tee.
She put a hand on Tora’s arm to stop her as they headed toward Raven’s room. “The newborns need to be together.”
“I wasn’t planning on separating them,” Tora said. “They’re all staying here.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She looked down at the floor and tried to focus as an urgent message welled up from that mysterious vault deep inside. “The newborns need to be in the same room. All of them. Together.”
“Oh.” Tora bit her lip in thought. “I don’t think we have a room in the hospital large enough to accommodate eight newborns and their parents.”
“Their parents can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. They should be evacuated immediately.”
“But they’re babies.” Tora’s face grew somber. “Who will take care of them?”
“They have us. And they’ll be able to take care of themselves before long. The window for evacuation is closing. This needs to be done now.”
“You’re sure about this?” Tora asked, looking doubtful.
“Positive.”
“Can I at least check in on them first?”
Aspen shook her head. “Not enough time.”
She watched as Tora instantly shifted gears, her expression of uncertainty morphing into razor-sharp resolve. “I’ll bring their parents to the surface myself,” she said, already jogging down the corridor.
Within minutes, parents were bidding tearful farewells to their children in the hospital corridor. Aspen shook her head in amazement. They were leaving the sanctuary with nothing but the clothes on their backs and entrusting her with the lives of their infants—their very own flesh and blood. She couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult this was for them. Yet another example of how different Shrouds were from humans. No human she knew would ever leave their newborn behind.
These Shroud parents obviously understood the importance of the greater good. With the very future of their species hanging in the balance, they were willing to make this personal sacrifice. But she could see how agonizing it was for them.
Tora turned to her. “Take the newborns to chamber one. I’ll meet you there as soon as I get back.”
“Copy that.”
“One problem,” Tora whispered. “I need the four trolleys outside to transport everyone to the surface at once. The other trolleys are scattered all over the sanctuary. How will you relocate the newborns?”
“We’ll manage.”
Tora looked doubtful. Aspen could tell she was trying to puzzle out a solution.
“Will you please stop trying to micromanage everything? Just let it go.” She slipped her hand around Tora’s. This time, Tora didn’t pull away. “Put your trust in someone else for a change.”
“That someone being a reformed chocolate addict who likes to hold hands?” Tora smiled and gave Aspen’s hand a gentle squeeze.
Parents with tearstained cheeks stepped in line behind Tora and disappeared into the tunnels.