Infusion Page 8

  Nobody said anything. They shared the same sense of urgency Elliot must have. But if Dad became suspicious, he would never let it go. Besides, maybe I needed time to adjust. A girl can’t go from ordinary to alien fighter overnight, can she?

  When I didn’t reply, she sighed. “Fine. Monday before six." She eyed my cradled wrist. “And put some ice on that.”

  “Um-hmm.” I hoped it healed quickly.

  I didn’t want to explain broken bones to my father.

  Chapter Nine

  “Rachel, your father’s here!” My mother shouted from downstairs.

  I opened my eyes, registering light filtered through the blinds. I’d overslept.

  “I’ll be right down,” I yelled back, my voice hoarse from sleep.

  I threw off my sheets and swung my legs stiffly over the side of the bed. My hand hurt, but my fingers were straight. I wiggled them and rotated my wrist, rising slowly. It wasn’t only my hands that hurt. My whole body felt like I’d been fighting. I still wore my clothes from yesterday, torn and filthy from the warehouse floor. I changed into my green t-shirt and dark-wash jeans. I was going for normal, which, aside from my new athleticism and ability to shift dimensions, was easy. I stuffed a change of clothes into my overnight bag and grabbed my cell from my desk.

  Mom waited for me at the foot of the stairs. “Call me if you need anything at all.” As usual. As if going to my dad’s was arduous.

  “Okay.” I paused to brush her cheek with my lips. I flashed to her thoughts. She was worried about me, how I was handling everything. And the school had called.

  I squeezed her hand.

  Outside, my dad’s blue truck was running. I climbed inside.

  “Have you eaten breakfast yet?” He shifted the truck into gear and pulled away from the curb.

  “Nope.”

  “Great. Evelyn is making pancakes.”

  I tried not to make a face. Besides wishing me dead, she made her pancakes with whole-wheat flour. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

  Eventually he cleared his throat. “Your mother mentioned that the school called yesterday. You missed some classes this week?”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s been hard being back there.”

  “Can’t imagine. But routine’s supposed to be good for this kind of thing.” When I didn’t answer he continued, “Been able to remember anything else yet?”

  “No.”

  “Evelyn and I have talked about it, and if you need to see someone—”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Honestly, I think I’m fine.”

  We were quiet again until we pulled up to his place. Quaint was the word—the only word— I come up with to describe it. No fence, but a neatly cut front yard with a full flower garden along a stone walkway that curved the edge of the lawn to the front steps.

  A flowerpot full of purple flowers cascading the edges hung down beside the white-trimmed door. Evelyn’s touches.

  I let Dad open the door for me and entered forcing a smile. Evelyn’s back faced us as she transferred pancakes from the griddle to the large serving dish.

  “Good morning, Rachel.” She turned, smiling brightly. “You’re just in time for breakfast.”

  I stood in the doorway, watching my father as he walked up behind his wife. He put his hands on her shoulder and squeezed lightly and then reached up into the cupboard to take down three plates.

  “How’re you feeling?” he asked her.

  “Better than earlier this morning.” She turned to smile up at him. Iridescent color blossomed around them. I watched, transfixed, as deep blue and gold swirled together, lighting the space around them. A third light blended with theirs, a shimmering scarlet intermingled with Evelyn’s gold. The baby.

  “I’m just going to put my bag in my room.” I turned abruptly, blinking the colors away, and hurried from the entryway toward the stairs.

  “Hang on a sec.” Dad put plates down on the table, and Evelyn sighed as she glanced at him.

  “I’ll be quick.” I continued up. Dad followed me, and it was a second before I realized why. I walked into my room. My tan walls were painted pastel pink, with small, cheerfully embroidered butterflies smiling up from a white crib. A wicker rocking chair sat in the corner and a tall, white bookshelf stood along the wall beside the light switch. My room was a nursery.

  Dad stepped in, standing quietly beside me.

  I finally found my voice. “Where’s my bed?”

  “Actually, Ev and I figured, since you’re getting older, you’d like more privacy. We moved you to the big room in the basement. You’ll like it.”

  “Into your office?”

  “It was too big for me. We converted part of the walk-in closet in our room into office space.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” I said around the lump in my throat. This hadn’t been my real home anyway. Our house had been sold after the divorce. Still, I was surprised how much it hurt.

  They decided I needed more privacy. Convenient. And this room was perfect for a little girl. I pictured the baby in the crib, Evelyn sitting in the chair, reading something in her soft voice.

  “I guess I’ll take this to my new room then.” I spoke when I could trust my voice. We walked down together, although I continued past the kitchen into the basement alone. I heard Evelyn talking to Dad in hushed tones.

  The room was nice enough, except for the walls they’d painted purple. I dropped my bag on the floor and looked around once before heading back upstairs.

  Breakfast was, as expected, awkward. Small talk and general discomfort were usually staples as Evelyn and I interacted. Attempted parenting was worse.

  “So, Rachel, I understand you’re having some difficulty adjusting to being back in class.” She smiled as I stuffed my mouth with cardboard pancake.

  “Mmm.” I aimed for noncommittal. Minimal responses and a lack of eye contact discouraged her.

  “You father is worried.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Your mother mentioned ...”

  I shifted my gaze up intentionally. Really? She was going to refer to my mother? She had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable.

  “She mentioned it to you?” I asked pointedly.

  “Rachel.” My dad’s voice held warning in it. We’d been over this. Many times. He insisted it hadn’t been Evelyn’s fault they’d split up. Anyway, that was the story these days. But the way my mom disliked her even after Mikey entered the scene spoke volumes.

  “Fine. Yes, Evelyn? Go on.” I tried to keep my tone as neutral as possible.

  “She mentioned you’re having trouble.”

  “With?”

  “Missing classes.”

  “Dad and I talked about it already.” She stole a quick glance at him. “It’s been hard, okay? And being at school without Jared sucks.” That much was true. I missed him every day.

  “Well, we just don’t want to see you making mistakes now that can’t be undone.”

  I stared at her. Mistakes that can’t be undone? Like Jared shooting me point blank? I couldn’t think of an appropriate response so I nodded. “I’ll be more careful to keep track of my priorities.”

  “That’s all we ask.” She smiled thinly.

  Dad frowned down at his plate. A topic change was definitely in order. “So, what are your plans for today?”

  I looked at him.

  Later, I lay on my bed, studying the stippled ceiling. I’d narrowly escaped being dragged along to a baby shower with Evelyn. I convinced them I was too emotionally raw for crowds. Evelyn seemed relieved, but Dad was disappointed. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to like Evelyn.

  Okay, maybe it was.

  My pocket buzzed. I pulled out my cell, sitting, and leaned back against the headboard.

  How’s it going? It was Tyler.

  Meh.

  Anything new?

  I thought about the colors I’d seen earlier.Can see energy from other ppl.

  Me 2. Getting stronger.

  U couldn’t before?
<
br />   Not without Elliot.

  I felt a twinge of guilt again. Elliot was gone and it was my fault. Kind of. But what was he doing there? Again, I tried to think past the confusion surrounding that night.

  Where r u? he asked.

  At my dad’s. U?

  Home. Mom’s out. Wanna come over?

  I was rescued from a response by quick footsteps on the stairs.

  Gotta go, Tyl.

  I shoved my phone back into my pocket when Dad leaned into my room. “Evelyn’s friend called.” He spoke rapidly, his voice too loud. “Evelyn's—having trouble. Blacked out. They called an ambulance. We’re going to the hospital.” He turned back to the stairs and I scrambled to my feet, rushing to catch up with him.

  “What’s going on? Is it the baby?”

  “She thinks so.” He added, almost to himself, “It’s too early.”

  My father wasn’t exactly what anyone would call a cautious driver to begin with, but he floored it to the hospital. We didn’t speak. The rich blue aura no longer surrounded him. His color was muddied and grayed. Fear. I pictured the creatures, whispering to him, draining vitality from his energy.

  I balled up my fists in my lap.

  He pulled into the emergency parking and hopped out without a word. I slammed my door and followed. The waiting room was alight with sickly colors, although most people there couldn’t see it. The fear and grief in the room was tangible. Most of the energies were like my father’s, and I wondered what my own looked like. The creatures must love scenes like these; their whisperings were so effective in places like a hospital.

  “I’ll wait here, okay?” I said. He barely heard me. I sat down on the hard plastic chair in the waiting room. I wondered if World Maker really cared what happened to Evelyn’s baby.

  My sister.

  I bristled as protectiveness for her surged through me. She wasn’t born yet, but those things were waiting to destroy her. To whisper their poison into her life.

  My sister!

  My phone vibrated.

  U OK? It was Tyler again. I touched the bracelet on my wrist. He sensed my emotions.

  At Grace Hospital. Stepmom’s baby.

  On my way.

  Don’t. I’m fine. I had no idea how long I’d be here. He didn’t reply.Ty? Still nothing. I settled back. Maybe everything would be okay. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  What if it wasn’t? I hated hospitals.

  I felt Tyler’s nearness before seeing him walk through the waiting room. A few heads turned as he passed. His multiple piercings stood out in the high-end hospital, but most people were too wrapped up in their own pain to notice what happened around them.

  “Wow,” he said, sliding into the empty seat beside me. “You can really feel those things here, hey?”

  “Yeah.”

  He moved his fingers toward mine slightly so his pinkie rested on the back of my hand. He found the memories of the first part of my day.

  “How you holding up?”

  “I’m fine. You didn’t have to come.”

  “You kidding? I could barely think my own thoughts over your worry. Dee texted me to find out what was going on.”

  “So you were delegated to find out.”

  He nudged me with his shoulder. “No. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t alone. Here.” He slid his hand over mine. After a moment, my anxiety faded. It wasn’t the comfort of his touch—if anything, that made me more anxious. It was his energy blending with mine, infusing me with his calm.

  “How did you do that?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. It was something Elliot showed us—to help us steady each other when we connect. It never worked so quickly before, though.”

  I took a deep and easier breath. The calm was nice. “You don’t have to wait with me, you know.”

  “I don’t have anywhere I need to be.”

  We lapsed into silence, our hands connected. He thought about the ride over. I closed my eyes, allowing the sensation of cool wind against my cheeks wash over me, the trees and buildings passing in a beautiful blur. The steady motion of the bike and the quiet hum of the road were my last impressions before unexpected sleep claimed me.

  “Rachel Evans?” I awoke with a start. A tall, blonde woman stood at the waiting room entranceway. The sunlight filtering through the large windows was gone. It was night.

  Tyler squeezed my hand gently as we stood. “Everything is going to be okay.” He’d waited here with me all day, but I knew he’d be gone when I came out again. His calm lingered, though, as I followed the nurse down the hall.

  We entered another hallway, and I spotted the Neonatal Wing sign. Questions swirled in my mind, but I couldn’t give them voice. I just wanted to see my dad.

  He waited outside one of the doors that lined the hallway. Dark circles beneath his eyes were a contrast to the healthy deep blue surrounding him. As I neared, he stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. A blur of images hit me: the flurry of doctors, the rush to deliver, the constant noise of machines, Evelyn’s pale face. And then—wrinkled fingers, pink toes, a soft but steady wail. I looked up at my dad, his face blurred by my tears.

  “Come meet your baby sister.” Taking my hand, he led me into the room. Garbed in a blue hospital gown, Evelyn sat in her wheelchair. She gazed steadily at her baby through the glass of the incubator. Her fingers caressed the smooth surface as if she were stroking the infant’s cheek. I stepped up beside her.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I stared down at the tiny scrap of humanity, hooked up to breathing tubes and monitors, a little sunglass-shaped fabric strapped over her eyes to protect them.

  “She is.” I placed my hand on the glass. Her scarlet energy danced around her in a soft glow. My sister.

  There was no question. She was worth losing my room over. She was worth ...

  “We—” My father choked, then cleared his throat. “We named her Hope.”

  Hope. My sister. Hope.

  Hope, newly arrived in a world where hope was under attack. I pictured the gray creatures whispering over her as we stood there. They wanted a way into our world, working to finish with their bodies what they started with their voices.

  No way would I let that happen.

  I’ll protect you, I silently promised my sister. I’ll never abandon you, Hope.

  Chapter Ten

  Showing up at the warehouse on Monday was terrifying. Tyler wasn’t with me to make me feel safe. And I had to lie to get out so early, too. Practice, I told them vaguely, at 5 a.m. But I had years of trust built up with my mom, so she didn’t prod. She hadn’t realized I hid things from her, and I suspected she was happy I took interest in some sort of sport. She’d looked at me strangely, though, when I shoved my feet into sneakers. She assumed the changes she saw in me were because of the night I’d been shot. The authorities didn’t have answers. They never would.

  I approached the darkened, heavily gated facility in my ridiculous gym shorts and black hoodie. I shivered at first in the cool morning air, but running warmed me up. The lights of the warehouse gleamed ahead, but I didn’t hurry. I was earlier than we’d agreed, and I didn’t want to seem too eager. Which wouldn’t be hard, because I wasn’t.

  I went over the fence and landed softly on the ground, then froze. A duet of throaty growls greeted me. Two pairs of eyes locked onto mine. Sarah hadn’t locked up the dogs; they weren’t her dogs. I imagined her making her way around them—she would have had the forethought to avoid getting cornered. I gritted my teeth. Not me. I regarded them, weighing my options. I suspected Sarah felt my fear. Absentmindedly I touched my bracelet. Everybody sensed my fear. And they knew I was training with Sarah this morning. They probably thought I was afraid of her.

  Wonderful.

  “Shhh.” I extended my hand toward the two large beasts, trying to think calm thoughts.

  They snarled simultaneously, lips peeled back from white teeth.

  I tried again.
“Shhhh.” It didn’t work. They were tense, haired-out, about to lunge.

  Retreat.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I scrambled back up the chain link fence. Near the top, my hands clasped thin steel bars and my feet wedged through two of diamond shaped mesh openings. I stopped and stared down at the barking animals. I had to do something before they woke the whole neighborhood. I could leap over them and outrun them. Probably.

  But then what?

  “Whiskey. Lilac. Enough.” Sarah’s voice broke sharply through the noise, and both dogs immediately fell silent. “Come.”

  The dogs abandoned their watch. They trotted easily over to Sarah, then stood on either side of her. She rested her hands on their large, black heads. “Now that you’ve finished waking everybody up, can we start? This place opens at eight so we don’t have much time.”

  “You know the guard dogs?” I asked, forcing myself to release my grip on the fence and jump down. I almost expected the dogs to lunge, but their expressions remained mild and passive as they stood beside Sarah.

  “I asked Dee to introduce me to them as soon as I realized she had dogs here. Getting to know someone is always easier than fighting blindly.”

  I fought the urge to grimace. This coming from her.

  “Can you …” I hesitated, glancing down at her hand resting on its head.

  “I can’t see their thoughts. But—there’s something.” She looked down at her hand.

  I stepped toward her, tentatively placing my hand beside hers. It was the strangest sensation. She conveyed the same calm I tried to send when I first saw them.

  “It didn’t work for me.”

  “You were too scared to focus. Can you feel him?”

  I concentrated on the animal beneath my fingertips. Slowly, odd snatches of blue, gray and yellow images formed. I tried to capture them, to understand what I saw, but they were too fragmented. I sensed his energy. It was soft and relaxed, intermingling smoothly with Sarah’s. I reached out with my other hand and laid it atop the other dog. It was similar to the first. Sarah crouched down beside them, speaking soothingly to them. The dogs huffed in contentment, then lay down heavily on the ground.