Freaks of Nature (The Psion Chronicles) Page 12

  “Bai Lee. Nevada. Please stop this,” said Alya. “We don’t have time for such behavior.”

  “Alya’s right,” Devon said, chiming in. “We made a deal, and we all need to stick to it. Nevada, you know better than anyone here what those baselines in Washington are going to do to us once we land.”

  Nevada stopped struggling in Vahn’s arms and turned to Devon. “But even if we escape—even if we do find a safe place to hide for a little while—they’re still going to keep coming after us. They’re not going to stop until they kill us all.” She slumped against Vahn, and he had to hold on to her tightly to keep her upright against him. “My life’s just been one big mistake after another,” she said wearily. “I’m no shining knight like Vahn. Maybe I don’t deserve to live.”

  “No, Nevada! You mustn’t think like that!” Miguel cried. The fourteen-year-old was standing up, his eyes locked on the woman before him. “Major General Allen said he thought that we are all here by the grace of God. You have no idea how I have longed to hear someone other than Father Gálvez say that.” A hopeful smile played across Miguel’s lips as he walked toward Nevada. “Ever since I was very little, I only thought of myself as a mistake, a freak of nature…a slip of science. You have no idea how my heart soared to hear Vahn’s noble general friend imply that our kind is as much a part of God’s plan as the earth and sky.”

  Standing before Nevada, Miguel took her hand. Vahn released her and stepped back as Nevada turned her gaze to Miguel. The kid from Guatemala had her full attention. “Through Vahn’s story, I now realize that we have always been a part of God’s kingdom—not man’s. Please, Nevada,” Miguel pleaded. “Do not give up now. Show us your story.”

  “I’m not deserving,” she said, clinging to Miguel’s hand. “You’ll hate me after you’ve seen what I’ve done.”

  “I seriously doubt that. Not one of us gathered here today is without sin. We are all flawed, but that is the beautiful challenge of life, is it not?”

  “Well, yeah…maybe.” Nevada gave him a hint of a smile.

  “There is no one on this earth like you, Nevada. We are all special and deserving in God’s eyes.” As Miguel spoke, Devon was reminded of a minister he’d once met. The Guatemalan’s eyes shone bright with a pure and holy light that radiated from his very soul. “You must remember that life is one continuous work in progress, and mistakes are a big part of how we learn to be better people.” Miguel brushed aside a tear on Nevada’s cheek. “We can all work on being better people, especially toward one another.”

  Nevada nodded. “Yeah…” She bit her lip then and looked over at him bashfully. “So, like, when did you become a padre, Miguel? You sound just like my family’s priest.”

  Miguel chuckled. “The priesthood has always been my dream. It’s just that, well, my condition makes me an outlaw first and foremost.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “So, Nevada,” said Vahn, “what is your story?”

  Nevada shrugged, and Devon noted that she was still holding Miguel’s hand. “It’s not all that interesting, really.”

  Vahn grunted. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  It was Nevada’s turn to blush. “Well, I was married and widowed all in the same day, so I guess that’s somewhat interesting.”

  “Yes. It definitely is.” Miguel nodded to Vahn, and together they led Nevada over to the wooden lounge and helped her sit down.

  “And you loved him, this young man you married?” Miguel asked.

  Nevada smiled wistfully. “His name was Jake Kohler. And yes, I did love him. He was my third husband, and the best one by far. I mean, he never hit me, or yelled at me, or threatened to kill me, so that made him a real gem. Plus, he usually listened to whatever I had to say and did most everything I asked—even stood up for me on occasion.

  “Looking back, I think he’d been trying all along to save me from myself.” Nevada looked sadly over at Miguel. “I just wished I could’ve saved him from my family.”

  Nevada slumped dejectedly between Vahn and Miguel on the edge of the wooden lounge, and Devon thought she might actually cry. Instead, she rested her head on Vahn’s shoulder and looked miserable. “You know,” she said softly, “I’ve been called a liar, a thief, and a murderer. But I want you all to know that I am not a murderer. I loved every one of the men I married, even the walking disaster that was husband number one. Sure, I used them for the attention I got from the media, but I’m not the one who killed them. Hell, I didn’t even know my first two husbands were dead until a week ago. I just thought they had run off. So, like, what the hell did I know?” Nevada lowered her eyes. “Not much, it turns out.”

  “Oh, Nevada,” said Alya. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks, Alya, I appreciate that. I thought I had it all under control. You know, messed-up little rich girl wants Daddy’s attention and all that jazz. But what I never realized was that my antics—my numerous escapes from the psi facilities—only played into my parents’ perverse agenda.”

  She turned to Alek. “It was just what you said back in the cargo hold earlier—I made a mockery of our kind. I allowed the public to see how wild and dangerous we could be. I became the bogeyman that would steal baseline babies in the night and force them to marry me by morning. I guess you could say that I became the poster child for psionic detainment and control. Only, my overblown ego wouldn’t let me see that I never had control in the first place…not until it was too late for Jake.”

  She looked up at Vahn and Miguel. “I think I’m ready.”

  Miguel held her hand and Vahn helped slide her feet into position as she laid down on the wooden lounge. As soon as Nevada’s head hit the leafy pillow, Devon saw the tree writhe and grow around her to comfortably fit the contours of her body.

  “I’ll be right here when you come back to us,” said Miguel, smiling down at her.

  Nevada nodded, then addressed Bai Lee, who stood patiently waiting. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry about taking a swing at you.”

  “For whatever it’s worth,” echoed Bai Lee, her expression unreadable. “The next time you take a swing at me, I’ll break your freaking arm.”

  “Right,” Nevada replied. “Point taken. Now, are we going to do this or what?”

  Bai Lee sat down on the edge of the wooden lounge. “Whenever you’re ready. You know what to do.”

  Nevada laughed. “Well, then, buckle your seatbelts, boys and girls,” she said, flashing everyone a devious grin. “We’re going for one hell of a ride!”

  Before Devon could protest, she closed her eyes, and the world around him instantly caved in. He tried to squeeze Alya’s hand to let her know that he was with her, but reality had already collapsed into a whirlpool of thought and he was helpless to resist.

  Nevada’s Story

  Chapter Eleven

  MARITAL bliss is amazing.

  Married eight hours and I’m still orbiting Saturn. And that’s saying a lot, seeing as I have an incredibly short attention span. You know, I think I just might have gotten it right this time. Jake’s been my best husband by far. Besides being totally hot, he’s a true gentleman. Not only does he adore me, but he has terrific hygiene and he doesn’t try to have sex with me while I’m asleep.

  That’s a huge plus in my book.

  But the best thing about Jake Kohler, besides being an awesome kisser, is that he gets me. He doesn’t mind me taking the lead, but he hasn’t allowed me to walk all over him, either. In other words, he’s a laid-back kind of guy with just enough edge to keep him interesting.

  This time, I think I found a keeper.

  I just wish I could lie here all night in his arms rather than roust my lazy bones out of bed and over to the hotel room vanity. But I can’t. Tonight, there’s work to be done. Mainly because we can’t afford the room we’ve just booked at this tiny off-Strip hotel. But lucky us, there just happens to be a slam-banging casino just across the parking lot.

  Oh, yeah!

/>   I sit down at the vanity to put in my sclera contact lenses and pause when I catch sight of my big bald head. Damn, Jake does amazing work! With his psi-power pulsing through the tattoo he gave me, I look like something out of a sci-fi movie. The tat glows a soothing neon blue throughout a maze of Celtic-inspired designs that delicately curl around my shiny dome. The blue matches my starburst eyes, which gives me an otherworldly flair without crossing into freaky-monster-alien territory.

  Too bad I can’t walk down Las Vegas Boulevard like this tonight. My tat would rival any of the neon along the Strip, but that kind of thing would only get me arrested. The sight of a psionic tat scares the hell out of any rational baseline, and with good reason—they’re deadly.

  But not just “it kills you” deadly—more like crazy-zombie-nightmare-inducing, lose-your-mind-as-you-burn-out-at-the-whims-of-a-puppet-master deadly.

  Oh, yeah…it’s that bad. But only for the baselines. We psions are immune to the zombie mind burnout. We merely bask in the pretty glow.

  Studying myself in the mirror, I decide that I’m going to be really bummin’ when my tat starts to fade in a couple of weeks, because I totally rock this look.

  “What’re you doing over there, Mrs. Kohler?” Jake asks from the bed.

  I grin a little at the thought of being Mrs. Kohler. “Getting ready to go out,” I say as I unscrew the lids of my contact case.

  “Out? I thought we’d stay in tonight.” He lifts his head up and I can see his handsome face framed by a halo of messy brown hair in my mirror. “You know, being newlyweds and all.”

  “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta bring home the bacon.” I open my right eye wide with my left hand and gently place the sclera contact lens over my cornea until it drapes softly across my eyeball. From the first blink, it feels comfortable; however, the vision in my right eye is drastically dimmed due to the dark color of the lens’s iris. It’s the price we psions have to pay in order to mask the intense color of our eyes. “I gotta rake in a couple grand tonight at the roulette tables to pay for our room.”

  As I set the left contact lens on my finger, I catch Jake looking deflated in the bed behind me. “So, no more boom-boom?” he asks dejectedly.

  I glance at him through the mirror. “No more boom-boom, baby…for now.”

  He gives me that wounded-puppy look and juts out his bottom lip, and suddenly I feel a little guilty. Damn, he looks delicious when he does that!

  I slide the second lens onto my left eye, blink it into place, and turn to face him. “Now, dahling, you know we’re a far cry from champagne wishes and caviar dreams. Our Network contact can’t meet with us until next week, so we’ve got to lie low and play it cool. And while you might think sleeping beneath the stars is romantic and all, the desert’s freezing this time of year.”

  “Can’t your mom, like, wire you some money or something?”

  At the mention of my mother, my anger explodes inside me like a solar flare, and I shoot him my most evil look. Jake knows better than to bring up my family. “Hell to the no, loverboy! And I better not hear you mention her again!”

  Jake holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa—hey, I just thought she was the nice one, ya know?”

  “Well, she’s not!” But the fact he even asked the question fires up the primal rage that boils inside me. “Why’d you even mention her in the first place?”

  Jake shrugs. “I dunno. Your parents are just so rich, so untouchable… I’ve seen those gourmet care packages they send you. Heck, you were the only one in the entire West Coast Psi Facility to have a private room! Professionally decorated—with cable, no less!”

  I cross my arms, defiant. “Yeah, so?”

  “So?” Jake rises to his knees on the bed. Married only eight hours, and he’s already getting frustrated with me. “Well, why wouldn’t I think that they’d wire you some money on the outside?”

  “Because I escaped, Jake. We escaped. My parents only like me when I’m safely contained in a secure psi facility. They’d send me all the Starbucks coffee and Godiva chocolate in the world if it would keep me caged up forever.” I sit down on the edge of the bed in a huff. “Geezus, Jake! Why do I even waste my breath trying to explain this stuff?” I stare up at the ceiling; I’m too upset to look at him right now.

  There are several long moments of icy silence between us, and then I hear the bedsprings grind as Jake shifts his weight. “Look,” he says gently, “I’ve got a mom too, you know. You remember, I told you about her. Her name’s Betsy. She fought hard to keep me for as long as she could. But because of what I am—what my power does—the Supreme Court of California ordered her to give me up when I was eight.” He lays his hand lightly on my shoulder. Just to show him that I mean business, I shrug it off.

  “Well, that’s nice and all, Jake, but what does Betsy have to do with our current situation?”

  “Actually, I was hoping we could visit her.”

  I whirl on him. “What?!” I’m practically screaming in his face.

  “I just thought—”

  “You thought?” I scoff with indignation. “I didn’t marry you to think, Jake! And I definitely don’t want you contacting anyone outside of this hotel room until after we hook up with the Psionic Underground next week!”

  “But she’s my mother—”

  “I don’t care if she’s the first female Pope! You cannot contact her!”

  Jake’s eyes harden as he scowls back at me. “You don’t have to shout, Ali. My ears work just fine.”

  “Then use them, you idiot!” I shout, anger swirling through my veins like a thousand tiny tornadoes. I want to lash out at him, tell him how stupid he’s being—but then I see his wounded expression, and I know I’ve gone too far.

  “Fine,” he says quietly. “If that’s how you feel… I’m out of here.” He scoots to the edge of the bed and makes a mad dash for the bathroom.

  That’s when I draw the air molecules around me together into one incredible burst of air and hurl it at him. The gale blasts him backwards onto the bed.

  “Ali!” he shouts at me. “Stop it!”

  I redirect the air into a screaming squall that forces him flat against the bed. The wind howls and the bedsheets rip. With a thought, I could shred the flesh from his bones, but that is not my intent here. What I want is for my husband to just shut up and listen to me. Is that too much to ask?

  “Ali! Come on! You’re hurting me!”

  Like a slap in the face, Jake’s plea snaps me out of my rage-fueled attack. The intense need to inflict pain on the guy I adore vanishes instantly. Dispersing the wind with a thought, I scramble across the bed to him. “Jake! Oh, Jake! I’m so sorry!”

  He looks at me warily, like he has no idea who I am, and it simply breaks my heart. I’m such a mess that even I can’t stand myself most of the time. “Forgive me, Jake, please,” I plead as I lean over him, checking him for any injury that I may have inflicted.

  He sits up and scoots away from me. “I’m fine, Ali,” he says guardedly. “You don’t have to go psycho on me every time we get into an argument.” He raises his eyes to meet mine. “I’m not the enemy, you know.”

  “I know,” I say quietly.

  “I love you,” he says.

  I hesitate, gulping on air as I realize what he has just said to me. “Love you, too,” I manage to reply, but with my bad left ear, I can barely hear my own confession. And a very dark part of me wonders if there’s even a shred of truth to what I have just said. Nevertheless, my words bring a beautiful smile to Jake’s face.

  He reaches out to me and caresses my cheek. “You know, you never have to say that back.”

  “I know.” His gentle touch melts my resolve, and I hold onto that warm feeling, memorizing its effect on my cold, black heart. Thankfully, I like it. I like him, oh, so much.

  Jake’s a good guy.

  Way too good for me on more levels than I can count, because I’m probably going to put him through complete hell before I tear out
his heart and stomp on it in a heavy-duty pair of combat boots.

  I can be that much of a psycho bitch.

  And I hate myself for it.

  “Jake,” I say softly. “I’m so tired. I don’t want to play their games anymore.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks, the concern returning to his eyes. “What games?”

  “My parents’ games.” I scoot closer to him and look him directly in the eyes. I have to make sure that he really hears what I have to say this time. “They use me. And the more I try to fight them, the easier it is for them to gain support for their political agendas.” I reach over and place my hand on his knee. “I’m escaping for real this time, Jake. There’s no way I’m ever going back. I’m through with the facility. I’m through with them. The Network is going to provide you and me with new identities and a safe place to hide for a long, long time.”

  Jake’s look of concern morphs into one of genuine confusion. “How long is long?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know… The only way for me to truly escape is to leave Alison Wingate behind. I can’t be that spoiled rotten child anymore, Jake. My antics have only made things worse.” I pause for a moment, the seriousness of my own words catching me off-guard. I have to take a deep breath before I’m able to continue.

  “I have a lot to make amends for.”

  Jake leans forward and gives me his sweetest smile. “I’m with you, Ali. You know I’d follow you anywhere.”

  “But what about your mom—Betsy?” I ask, testing the waters.

  He shrugs, his smile withering. “I’ve waited ten years to see her. What’s a few more?”

  “But she’s your mom.”

  He chuckles airily as he wraps his arms around me in a heartfelt embrace. “Oh, Ali, where’s your confidence?” He pulls back and smiles down at me. “I sure wish you could love yourself as much as I love you.”