Dark Visions (64 page)

Suddenly there was another vision. A hand dripping blood. Onto a floor. Gabriel's hand, cut by the crystal shard, dripping onto Marisol's floor.

And she had seen it, she, Kaitlyn. She was Kaitlyn.

She had a self again.

Gabriel?

His voice came back, at a volume that hurt her. Yes. Kaitlyn, talk to me.

Gabriel, is it really you? I thought. . . you'd be mad. After I said. . .

She wasn't sure what she'd said. Or even what "saying" was.

Kaitlyn, don't be-don't even think about that. Are you all right?

It was a stupid question. Kaitlyn had no way to answer it in words, so she sent along the thin, quivering strand of the web that connected them a vision of what the emptiness was like. Nothingness, void, absence. ..

Stop. Please stop now. Oh God, Kait, what can I do?

Kaitlyn could feel the black well trying to suck her back into it; all she had to hold on to was the slender connection with Gabriel, like a tiny shaft of light in a dungeon. It was keeping her sane at the moment, but it wasn't enough. She needed more, she needed

You need to see and hear, Gabriel said.

I don't even remember what those things are like, Kaitlyn told him. She could feel hysteria bubbling in her, stealing her rationality.

Gabriel said simply, I'll show you.

And then he began to give her things, with his mind. Things he had seen and heard, things from his memory. He gave her everything.

"Remember what the sun's like? It's hot and yellow and so bright you can't look at it. Like this. See?" In her sense-starved condition his voice seemed like a real voice not like telepathy. He was giving her the sound of talking. And sending her a picture. As soon as Kaitlyn saw it she remembered. The sun.

That's good, she said. It feels good.

"That's what it looks like in summer. I grew up in New York, and sometimes in the summer my mom would take me to this place by the ocean-remember the ocean?"

Blue-green coolness. Hot sand between the toes, gritty sand in the bathing trunks. Water foaming and hissing, children shrieking. The smell and taste of salt.

Kaitlyn drank it all in greedily, hungry for every nuance of sight or sound. More, please. More.

"We'd go up to the boardwalk, just her and me. She'd always buy me a hot dog and an ice cream. She didn't have much money, because the old man drank it all, but sometimes she'd make him give her a dollar to fix something he really liked for dinner. Then she'd get me the ice cream-remember ice cream?"

Creamy, blobby coldness. Stickiness on her chin. Rich, dark taste of chocolate.

I remember. Thank you, Gabriel.

He gave her more. All his best memories, everything he could think of that was good. Every golden afternoon, every skateboard ride, every moment with his mother when he was seven years old and sick with the fever that gave him his power.

Everything he was, he gave to her.

Kaitlyn devoured the sensations, filling herself with the reality of the world outside. She was drenched in sunshine and cool wind and the smell of burning leaves and the taste of Halloween candy. And music; she hadn't realized how Gabriel loved music. At fourteen, he'd wanted to play in a garage band. He was jamming with the drummer one night, trying to get more in sync-and then the drummer was lying on the floor, clutching his head. Pierced by Gabriel's mind. When Gabriel tried to help him up, he ran screaming.

A week later, Gabriel was on his way to the psychic research center in Durham, where his principal and his mother and the social worker hoped someone could teach him control. His father's last word to him had been: "Freak."

"Never mind about that," Gabriel said. He was giving her only good things, nothing depressing. She could feel that he didn't want her to see his father's stubbly face with the bleary red eyes. Or feel the burning hot shock of his father's belt.

It's all right, Kaitlyn said. I mean, I won't look at anything you don't want me to, but you don't have to worry about me . . . and I won't ever tell anyone, and I'm so sorry. Oh, Gabriel, I'm so sorry. And. ..

She wanted to tell him that she understood him now, in a way she'd never understood anyone before.

Because she was with him. It wasn't even like being in the web; it was much closer than that, much deeper. He'd torn down all the barriers and put his soul into her hands.

I love you, she told him.

"I love you, Kaitlyn. From the very beginning."

She got a sense then, of how he saw her. Bits and pieces from his memories of her. Her eyes, smoky blue, with the strange dark rings in them, framed by heavy black lashes. Her skin tasting like peaches.

Her hair crackling when she brushed it, flame-colored, silky but full of electricity.

She could sense, too, scraps of what he'd thought about her over the weeks. Lines from their lives together. That kind of girl might be too interesting, might tempt you to get involved. . . A girl who challenged him, who could be his equal. . . Her mind was a place of blue pools and blazing meteors.. .

She stood slim and proud as some medieval witch princess against the dawn.

"And then I thought you'd betrayed me," he said. "But you really came to protect me, didn't you?"

With that, Kaitlyn realized that he'd seen as deeply into her mind as she'd seen into his. She had thought he was the one giving, while she had only received . . . but of course, he'd had to join with her completely in order to share his life with her.

He knew everything, now.

And then he came on something that sent shock waves through Kaitlyn.

"Jackal Mac said-what?"

Kaitlyn could feel the memory he was looking at. He said you told him to check me out.

Gabriel's cold anger filled the universe.

"I never said that. I never talked to him about you at all."

I know, Gabriel. She did know, she was certain.

"But Lydia knew how you gave me energy on the trip to Canada She must have told him-"

Gabriel, forget about it. His fury was hurting her, filling her with images of death, of Jackal Mac spitting up bone splinters. Please think me something nice.

So he did. All that night, he thought her beautiful music and hillsides of wild mustard flowers and the smell of fresh pencil shavings and the taste of banana marshmallow candies. And the touch of his hands, the way he would do it if she ever got back in the world again.

Rob stared at the edges of the afghan that served Tony's friend for a window curtain. He didn't move, because he didn't want to disturb the others; Anna and Lewis and Tamsin on the floor. Even the black kitten Tony had given Anna was lying curled and still. But Rob couldn't sleep.

Light was showing around the blanket edges. Morning. And Kaitlyn hadn't called last night.

He had a very bad feeling.

There was no good reason for it. Kaitlyn had told them she might have to wait and watch her chance.

That was probably what she was doing.

But Rob was empty and sick with fear.

Rob?

He turned to see Anna looking up at him. There was no sign of drowsiness in her face or her dark eyes.

I couldn't 't sleep, either. She put a hand on his arm and he put his hand over it. Just the feel of her warmth gave him some comfort.

You want to go and look for her now, don't you?

Rob turned from the window again. Her steady gaze, her calm face, and her gentle presence in the web all strengthened him.

"Yes" he whispered.

Then we'll go. I think we should, too. Let's wake up Lewis and Tamsin.

Kaitlyn knew it was morning because Gabriel said so.

"I think they're going to take you out soon. Mr. Zetes drove up a little while ago, and now Joyce is knocking on all the doors upstairs."

Another circus, huh? Kaitlyn asked. She didn't know how she felt about the outside world anymore, but the thought of everyone staring at her was definitely appalling.

"I'll be with you," Gabriel said.

As the night had gone on, she'd gotten more and more of an odd sense from him. A feeling that ran beneath the thoughts they were sharing, that he was keeping away from her. Although it was tightly controlled, she recognized it as pain.

Gabriel, are you all right? I feel-are you hurt, somehow?

"I have a sort of headache. It's no problem. Do you feel it now?"

Once again, she had the sense that he was concealing something. But concealing it better.

"Okay, Joyce is telling us to come downstairs." After a moment, he said, "We're in the lab."

Yeah, time for the unveiling. Kaitlyn laughed silently, nervously. I wonder what they're going to think. I suppose I should act crazy.

"I think it's your best chance. Kait-I don't know how I can save you right now. The others don't like what the old man is doing-I think Joyce asked him to take you out this soon-but they're afraid of him. And I can only fight one of them at a time. "

Kaitlyn knew. Gabriel's destructive power operated most strongly when he could touch his victim, and it took time. He couldn't hold off Jackal Mac and Renny while killing Mr. Z, for instance.

And you're weak, she told him. From helping me, I know. I'm sorry. But we'll manage somehow-maybe they'll just put me back in the tank.

Then she realized something that made the blood start beating in her ears. Gabriel, wait, wait! Rob is coming. I forgot. She'd forgotten about the outside world. All you need to do is wait until he gets here, then he can help.

"It depends on what Mr. Z is going to do to you, whether we can wait. He's giving a speech now. On and on."

I don't want to hear it. Gabriel, you do know that Rob didn't 't mean the things he said at Marisol's house. He was mad at you. Hurt. And he felt betrayed. But that's because he really cares about you. You know that, don't you?

Even now, Gabriel refused to say it. But Kaitlyn had seen inside him too deeply to be fooled. Her question was rhetorical. Gabriel did know. His feelings for Rob were all mixed up with guilt and jealousy and resentment of Rob's effortless ability to do good and be good, and to go through life being loved. But Kaitlyn thought that Rob would be pleased with the feeling Gabriel had under that. He admired Rob.

Respected him. Would have liked to be somebody Rob could like.

But he does like you, Kaitlyn said again, and then she realized they were opening the door of the tank.

The clang was a different sort of sound than Gabriel's mental voice and she thought that if she had really been in silence all yesterday afternoon and night-maybe fifteen hours at a guess-she wouldn't have recognized what sound was anymore, and screamed in fear. She was spared having to fake that because they couldn't hear her.

Hands pulled at her, the touch as shriekingly dissonant as the door clang. Everything was so harsh. Her skin was so sensitized that even the gentlest pressure would have hurt, and these hands weren't gentle.

Then light struck her eyes. It both hurt and dazzled, confusing her. She couldn't really see anything, only the whiteness, with occasional shapes blocking it. Squinting helped a little, but tears still ran down her face.

It didn't matter; she was soaking wet everywhere. She could feel the harsh hands taking off the strait-jacket and weights, removing the mouthpiece. Then, just as she began to really see, she was turned around to face Mr. Zetes.

She was white and wrinkled. Her mouth hurt, she had cramps in her arms and shoulders, and her legs wouldn't support her. She was dripping all over the floor.

"She can't stand up," Joyce said crisply. "Bri, get a chair."

They put her in the chair. Mr. Z looked at her.

Now, what? Kaitlyn asked Gabriel. I don't think I can scream. Should I just sort of look vacant?

Try it, he commanded. Now that she could hear real voices, his telepathic voice seemed different. She knew it wasn't sound.

"Can you understand me, Kaitlyn?" Mr. Zetes was asking. "Do you know where you are?"

His expression was avid and eager. Like a connoisseur just about to take the first sip of wine, stopping to inhale the bouquet. If he thought she was crazy enough, he'd say, "Ahhh."

Kaitlyn tried to look mad. She gazed at him, doing her version of the human pupa stare. She wondered if she should try to say, "Muh-muh-muh"-but she was afraid she would do it wrong. Instead, she tried to smile the way Sasha had.

She saw in an instant that it wasn't any good. Mr. Z was an expert on insane people-he collected them.

His piercing eyes widened and then narrowed as he looked at her. Kaitlyn would have sworn she could see a red spark somewhere in their depths.

Then his white brows drew together over his aquiline nose and his mouth made a bitter, scornful line. He planted his gold-headed cane on the ground and stood tall, like some patriarch from the Bible. Except that he looked instead like El Diablo, El Gato, Satan.

"It's failed," he said. He looked at Joyce. "Why?"

"I don't know. I have no idea." Even Kaitlyn could hear the relief in the shaky voice. Joyce's hand on Kaitlyn's back pressed gently, out of Mr. Z's sight.

"This girl tried to destroy us. Not once. Time and again." Mr. Z's voice was shaking, too-with repressed anger.

Joyce straightened. "I had nothing to do with it, Emmanuel. I don't know how she came through like this.

But now that she has-"

Mr. Z's face had been undergoing a struggle-one instant molded by satanic fury, the next smoothing as it was suppressed. Almost like Claymation, Kaitlyn thought. But now he had himself under control. His lips curved in a smile of grim delight.

"Now that she has, we'll just have to try the other solution," he told Joyce. "The crystal will take care of her."

Kaitlyn felt a falling in her stomach. She looked at Gabriel, who was standing with Renny and Jackal Mac and Lydia, all in a row behind Mr. Z. And at that instant she heard: Kaitlyn? Kaitlyn, this is Rob. Am I in range yet?