The Dark One rh-9 Page 4

  "If our parents hadn't died-" Trevor began, face tight with concentration.

  "Been murdered," Michael corrected, keeping his attention focused on the shards.

  "Then the Stone of Midnight that DuPris stole would have been returned to our planet," Trevor said in a rush. "The rebellion might have been squashed. All those in the Kindred might have been forced to join the consciousness."

  "So it's okay to kill anyone who gets in the way of the rebellion?" Michael demanded, clenching his fists.

  "Yes!" Trevor shouted.

  "No!" Michael shouted back.

  The shards fragmented and fell to the floor in a shower of powdery dust. Michael and Trevor locked eyes for a long moment. Then, without warning, Trevor disappeared.

  I have to get out of here, Michael thought, his body practically shaking from all the effort and emotion he'd expended. The table slid away from the door at Michael's thought command.

  "Wait. What am I doing?" he said. He concentrated a moment, and the shimmering, iridescent walls of his dream orb appeared. He stepped through and woke up.

  The sheet under Michael's back was moist with sweat. This was not a problem because Michael had no intention of going back to sleep anytime soon. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and found that it was three-thirty in the morning. He'd gotten most of his two hours of sleep.

  Michael stood up and pulled on his jeans and a T-shirt. He hesitated a moment, then slid on his shoes, too. It seemed like a good time for one of his late night visits to Maria's room. She never minded him waking her up, and somehow he always ended up feeling a little better after spending time with her. Even if she drove him crazy with too many questions.

  He headed out of the bedroom down the hall, glancing at Adam as he passed. Michael paused. Adam had probably gotten most of the sleep he needed, too, and he was always up for hanging out. Maybe he should just stay here and chill out. Teaching Adam some more about life in the real world would definitely take his mind off things. For a little while, anyway.

  But the more he thought about it, Michael realized it wasn't Maria or Adam he wanted to be with right now. He needed to see Max. Things had gotten bad between them, and it was time for that to end.

  "He's my real brother, anyway," Michael muttered. "Enough is enough."

  ***

  Max rubbed his rubber Koosh ball up and down the side of his face. A cluster of the beings in the consciousness never seemed to tire of the sensation, and through them Max shared the deliciousness of the rubber strands bushing against his skin. Their pleasure was almost as intense for Max as anything he'd ever experienced on his own.

  Reluctantly he dove away from the Koosh-loving beings and pushed himself deeper into the ocean of auras that made up the consciousness. He focused on an image of Ray Iburg and shot it out into the billions of entities. There was a faint ripple of response, not from Ray himself, but from beings who knew of Ray.

  Max caught a current and surfed into another section of the consciousness. He wanted to call Ray from a different spot. Ray was the only adult survivor of the crash-at least the only one who wasn't evil incarnate. He'd taught Max so much before he'd died. If Max could just talk to him-or exchange images and emotions the way the beings in the consciousness did-maybe Ray would have some clue what he should be doing. Because everything in Max's life was falling apart, and there was no one Max could talk to about it. He was the only one on Earth who was connected to the consciousness, and he needed advice from the only other being who had been connected while living on Earth.

  Plus he wouldn't mind one of Ray's Elvis impersonations. Something to make Max laugh would be nice. I could always go back to the Koosh crowd, he thought. But it was too easy to lose time in a cluster of auras like that one, too easy to get seduced by the pleasure of physical sensation, amplified as it was by the beings.

  Max focused on an image of Ray in his spangled Elvis jumpsuit and sent it out. This time there wasn't even a flicker of recognition, although he caught some amusement and a little fear.

  Another current swept past him. Max allowed himself to be drawn along with it and was sucked into a massive aggregation of ice-cold auras. These beings are terrified, he realized. Terrified that DuPris has two of the Stones. Terrified of… of dying.

  Max tried to throw out a question, but the cold had seeped too deeply into him. He'd been frozen to the point that he was incapable of throwing the necessary images to find out why the beings feared they were close to death.

  Above him he felt a current passing. He tried to propel himself up to meet it. But the numbing coldness made it impossible.

  "Max," a voice cried, so far away, Max couldn't make out who was speaking. "Max!" It came louder, and this time Max realized it was Michael calling to him.

  The sound of Michael's voice jolted him free of the icy block of auras, and Max found himself speeding along in the current. He had started to break the connection to the consciousness-well, turn down the volume, at least-when a group of beings demanded to know about the odor Max was smelling.

  Max concentrated, then sent back the answer-lemon-scented furniture polish. Then they asked him what a lemon was. Max focused on imagining a lemon tree with as much detail as he could.

  "Max!" he heard Michael call, soft as a whisper.

  Be there in one second, he thought. He threw out the image of the tree to the beings and was instantly bombarded with more questions. He began focusing on the image of a lemon being squeezed.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind Max knew Michael had called to him. But he was so focused on the questions before him, he could barely conjure up a picture of Michael for himself. It went from fuzzy to foggy to shapeless, then disappeared entirely.

  ***

  Isabel was sure she could find herself another cleaning project somewhere in the house, but she felt tired. Totally exhausted, actually.

  She told herself it was just because she and the others had run around like crazy trying to find Maria's brother. And it wasn't as if they'd been sitting around on their butts before that. They'd been spending every second trying to get Alex back home.

  So she really did have more than enough reason to feel wiped out. And the extreme physical sensations-they could have just been caused by stress. She had as much reason to feel stressed as she did to feel tired. More, even.

  Isabel ignored the part of her brain that was screaming about the akino. She sat down at her desk and flipped on her computer, needing some distraction. When the main screen came up, she clicked on the little icon to bring up her list of favorite places. She didn't feel like shopping. And she'd checked out the Chickclick sites a couple of days ago. Finally her eyes fell on Lucinda Baker's web page. Perfect. Isabel clicked it and waited for it to load.

  "I wonder if there's a way that my power could boost the modem speed," she mumbled, impatient to start reading. She tapped her finger against the screen until the photo of Lucinda's face came clear. She clicked on Lucinda's puckered lips, then tapped the screen again until the list of guys' names appeared.

  Who had Lucinda been kissing lately? Her eyes were caught by a name that had been highlighted in red-Alex Manes. Lucinda just asked us to say hi for her this afternoon, Isabel thought. She can't have already-

  Isabel clicked on Alex's name, tapping the screen with all ten nails. As soon as the first sentences came up, she eagerly began to read.

  "Okay, I admit I haven't tried Alexander the Great yet! But don't worry, I will. I hate to admit it, but Stacey Scheinin got to him first. She and Alex had quite the little two-person party by the mall drinking fountain. You all know the one I mean. I got Stacey to give up a few details. Not that it was hard. Stacey and I aren't exactly compadres, but we all know the girl likes to brag. Anyway, Stacey gave Alex the full four tongues. 'He knows what to do, and he does it well,' says Stacey. 'Plus he's adorable.' Is it just me, or has Alex gotten a whole lot yummier since he was dumped by La Isabel?"

  "Oh, please." Isabel groaned. But he
r stomach had clenched so hard, it felt like it was the size of a tennis ball. She knew Lucinda wasn't above making stuff up for her site. But there was no way Lucinda would make up something that made Stacey look good. Saying they weren't compadres was quite the understatement. So Alex and Stacey… Isabel shook her head. That just was not right, not after all the mean, catty little things Stacey had said about Alex in the locker room.

  Isabel toyed with the idea of posting a response saying exactly that. But it was so not an Isabel move. She would have to-

  Suddenly the letters on the screen began to glow. Brighter, brighter, until it hurt to look at them. And still they grew brighter. Isabel closed her eyes, but the light was so strong, it felt like it was penetrating her eyelids.

  She fumbled for the computer's off button and finally had to crack open her eyes to find it. Screaming white letters hurtled off the screen. She could feel them penetrating the soft flesh of her eyeballs. The pain was excruciating, and Isabel could do nothing to stop it.

  All she could do was cover her face and scream.

  FIVE

  Michael burst into Isabel's room. "Izzy, what happened? What's wrong?" he demanded.

  She screamed again, her hands still pressed tightly to her face. Michael gently pried away her hands and held them in his own. Isabel didn't look up at him. She kept her eyes screwed shut.

  "Tell me," he pleaded. He could feel her fingers twitching. "Tell me!" he repeated, forcing some harshness into his voice.

  Isabel opened her eyes, but only the tiniest bit, as if she was afraid of what she'd see, then let out a shuddering breath and opened her eyes all the way.

  "I'm all right," she said, not quite looking at Michael.

  Footsteps pounded down the hall. "Isabel, are you okay?" Mrs. Evans called.

  Michael dropped to the floor and wriggled under the bed. Yeah, the Evanses referred to them as their third child, but that didn't mean they'd be happy to see him in Isabel's bedroom at four in the morning.

  He heard Isabel's door open. "I had a nightmare," Isabel explained before her mother could say a word. "I fell asleep at the computer."

  Michael heard the mattress squeak above him, and he figured Isabel and her mom had just sat down on the bed.

  "Want to tell me about it?" Mrs. Evans asked. "Sometimes that helps."

  "I don't… I can't remember," Isabel answered.

  "That wolf you used to dream about hasn't come back, has he? Because I'm ready for him if he has. I still have a can of the wolf repellent," Mrs. Evans teased.

  Michael remembered that wolf repellent. It was a can of hair spray Mrs. Evans had decorated. She'd march into Isabel's room and dewolf it every time Isabel had one of her bad dreams.

  "Thanks, Mom," Isabel said. Michael thought he could hear a trace of tears in her voice, and the muscles in his shoulders and neck tensed up. Isabel wasn't a crying kind of girl. "I'm really okay. You should go back to bed," she added.

  "You try and get some sleep, too," Mrs. Evans answered. Michael listened as her footsteps crossed the room. He waited until he heard the door close behind her, then he rolled out from under the bed and pushed himself to his feet.

  "What happened?" Michael whispered.

  "Weren't you listening? I had a nightmare," Isabel whispered back, sounding seriously annoyed.

  Michael sat down next to her. "Don't even try to lie to me, Izzy lizard," he said, using the nickname he'd come up with when she was a little girl.

  "It's… I'm really stressed, okay? And I was reading Lucinda's web page, and I found out that Alex had a make-out session with Stacey! I kind of freaked," she explained, tripping over her words. Michael didn't buy it for a second.

  "You should have stuck with the nightmare story," he told her. "I mean, the thought of Alex and Stacey together is disgusting-but it would get more of a puking reaction than the scream you let out."

  "I don't puke," Isabel informed him with a hint of her usual 'tude.

  "Oh, right. What was I thinking?" Michael pushed a damp, sweaty clump of hair behind her ear and studied her face. Her skin had a grayish tint, and she looked like she hadn't slept for days. She looked the way Max had when-

  Michael felt like a giant fist had jammed itself into his chest and started squeezing his heart. "It's the akino, isn't it?" he asked.

  Isabel opened her lips to speak, but no words came out. She simply nodded instead.

  She can't end up like Max, Michael thought. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't lose them both. And Max was lost to him, except for little chunks of time here and there. Michael had had to face that just minutes before. He'd stood in front of Max, calling his name, and Max hadn't even known Michael was there.

  The hand in his chest had finished with his heart and moved on to his lungs, squeezing until Michael found it hard to breathe.

  "What am I going to do?" Isabel asked.

  Michael didn't know what to tell her. How to protect her. He wanted to throw back his head and scream in fear and frustration. Yeah, that would make Izzy feel a lot better, he thought, feeling disgusted with himself. He was so lame at this comforting thing. He wished Maria were here. She always knew how to make people feel better, even if it was only with a touch.

  Michael struggled to suck some air into his flattened lungs, then reached over and pulled Isabel close to him. He buried his head in her hair. At least he could do that without screwing it up.

  "You were supposed to tell me that you'd take care of it," Isabel said, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

  The hand began crushing his ribs, sending splinters of bone into Michael's body. He was Izzy's second big brother. He was supposed to tell her that he'd take care of it. But if he did, they'd both know it was a lie.

  He forced himself to spit out the words that he didn't want to say and that she didn't want to hear. "Maybe I should get the communication crystals. I don't want you to have to suffer like Max-"

  Isabel jerked away from him, her blue eyes dark with emotion. "You want me to connect to the consciousness?" she cried.

  "I don't want you to. I don't want to have to do it myself. But what choice-" Michael began.

  "You said Trevor told you that you won't die if you don't connect to the consciousness. He said that was just what the beings of the consciousness wanted you to believe," Isabel burst out. She jumped up and straightened the already straight row of books on the shelf over her computer.

  "As much as I hate to admit it, we don't have a lot of reason to trust Trevor," Michael reminded her. "He said he'd gone through his akino without making the connection, but he also said he'd come to Earth to find me. He didn't mention the part about planning to steal the Stone, or finding DuPris, or wanting to kill Max. So basically everything that came out of Trevor's mouth could have been crap."

  Isabel whirled back to face him. "The rebellion against the consciousness-if it wasn't led by DuPris, I'd join up in a heartbeat. Maybe Trevor was just waiting to tell you the truth about everything until he knew he could trust you."

  "If the rebellion isn't more Trevor bull, maybe there is a way to survive the akino without making the connection," Michael said slowly. "It's not like you could rebel while being part of the consciousness. Look at Max. He's a zombie half the-"

  Hey, genius. That's probably not exactly helpful to Isabel, Michael told himself.

  "He is," Isabel agreed quietly. "And that's why I can't join, even if it means…" She let her words trail off, but it wasn't as if they both didn't know what she was about to say-even if it means dying.

  Isabel gave him a weak smile. "You should be thanking me," she said. "I'll be the lab rat. If I survive without making the connection, then you'll know it's safe for you to go through your akino without it, too."

  Michael's stomach turned. This was just so wrong. He should be protecting Isabel, making sure it was safe for her.

  "Don't be such a guy," Isabel said, catching the look on his face.

  "I just… I can't stand the thought of yo
u-" Michael couldn't continue. He stared down at the floor, trying to get a grip. If he let himself look at her right now, he'd totally lose it.

  "Don't tell anyone, okay?" Isabel asked. "I don't want to be subjected to an intervention or something. Those are so last century."

  Michael nodded, eyes still on the floor. "You want me to stay? I can get the sleeping bag."

  "No, I'll be all right," Isabel told him. "It's almost morning, anyway."

  Michael reluctantly stood up and turned toward the door.

  "See you at school tomorrow," she added.

  Michael didn't look back. He couldn't.

  ***

  Adam stepped out of the UFO museum and stared up at the sky. It was gray as cement and seemed lower than it usually was. He hated days like this. It felt like the whole world was part of the underground compound. It felt like the sun was just a figment of his imagination.

  Seeing Liz would help. She was better than the sun. Adam knew Michael would crack up if he could hear that thought, but it was true. The sun made Adam feel extra alive, and so did Liz. But somehow Liz was the more powerful energy source.

  He pulled the keys out of his pocket and stared at them for a moment before locking the door. It was an amazing feeling-having keys. It was like something actually belonged to him. And he belonged somewhere.

  Adam was looking forward to the museum's grand reopening. It would be cool to have people in the place. Adam liked crowds. He liked the feel of the edges of his aura blending with others'. He'd spent enough time alone to last him for the rest of his life. There was no place in the world more lonely than a Project Clean Slate cell. Yes, there were guards posted on him all the time, but that just constantly reminded him of the fact that he was really all by himself.

  Adam put his keys back in his pocket, enjoying the weight of them, and wandered down Main Street. It was lunchtime, so nobody would think it was strange for a teenager to be out on the street on a school day.