Red-Line: The Shift (Volume One) (12 page)

Fifteen minutes later, the mowing stopped, and with an invitation to the monthly neighborhood lawn party, he headed back to the house. Hannah drove up just as he made it to the front door. He helped her grab a few grocery bags while explaining to her the need to move through the house in silence. He told her the basics of what had happened, and she understood.

They entered the house, making no noise. Hannah headed toward the kitchen and he to the closet. He found Sarah still on the floor, but lying down now, without her hands over her ears. She was as limp as her bed sheets. She was awake, but her eyes were slits. She didn’t react when he picked her up and brought her back to the bed. He started to cover her back up, but then thought better of it when it occurred to him that she might feel better after a bath. He’d learned over the years to trust these random thoughts that popped up out of nowhere. They’d always turned out to be good indicators, and they’d served him well in tough situations. He made sure she was situated on the bed before he headed into the kitchen. Hannah was putting up the remainder of the groceries.

He whispered to her. “I want you to give her a bath. I think it will help her relax, make her feel better.”

Hannah turned after putting a can of peas in the pantry. “Okay,” she whispered back. “How do you want to handle it?”

“Well, typically, you run some water, add a little soap, you get in, and voila, you’re taking a bath.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Thanks, Einstein. That’s not what I mean. Running bath water isn’t exactly silent.”

He hadn’t considered that.

“How about this?” said Hannah. “I’ll run the bath on the other side of the house, and when it’s done, we’ll bring her over and bathe her there.”

He thought it sounded as reasonable as anything else that had happened that day, so he agreed and Hannah left to go run the bathwater. Thankfully, the sun was almost down, and moving Sarah through the house without bright sunlight aggravating her eyes would not be a problem.

A few minutes later, Hannah was ready. He picked Sarah up from the bed and carried her through the house to one of the two guest bedrooms that shared a bathroom on the opposite side. He laid her down and let Hannah take it from there.

“I’m going to need your help to get her into the tub,” she whispered.

He looked at her blankly. “What do you need me to do?”

“She’s not strong enough to get into the tub by herself, so I’ll get her undressed, wrap a towel around her, and then have you carry her to the water.”

He appreciated Hannah’s professionalism. Right now, he just needed to be told what to do. He left the room and waited.

Hannah emerged from the bedroom not long after. “We’re ready.”

He followed her back and found Sarah lying on the bed, wrapped in a towel. She still carried that half-conscious look, as if she was caught somewhere between this world and another. He didn’t like it.

“Her skin’s sensitive also, so be careful when you pick her up.”

He did exactly that. He couldn’t have been gentler if he’d been carrying the Mona Lisa over hot coals.

He got her into the bathroom and eased her into the tepid water. She made a low throaty sound but remained still.

“Thanks,” whispered Hannah as Ramsey turned to leave. “I’ll take it from here. I’ll let you know when we’re done.”

Ramsey caught a fleeting glimpse of Sarah as she lay in the bath before Hannah closed the door.

“Hey,” he said to Hannah.

She pulled the door back open enough so that she could see him. “Yes?”

“Thanks for this.” He didn’t know what had touched him. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate it.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re not as big of a jerk as you make yourself out to be, Mr. Ramsey.” She smiled. “And you’re welcome.” With that, she shut the door.

Ramsey stood there a moment with his hand on the door, unmoving. Then he turned and walked back into the kitchen, thinking he could really use a drink.

“Well, that was a touching moment if ever I saw one,” said a voice from behind him. “What, are you going soft on me, big bro?”

Ramsey jumped at the sound, whirled, and faced the voice coming from the other side of the room. His brother—correction, stepbrother—Declan had finally joined the party.

AT THE AGE of twelve, John Ramsey lost his father in an automobile accident. It had devastated Ramsey. Up until that point, the Ramsey clan had been a close-knit group. Ramsey had idolized his engineer father, who’d worked as a science professor at the local university. He’d coached Ramsey’s baseball team and taken him to professional games whenever the local team was in town and they could convince Ramsey’s mother to let them go.

Ramsey grew up as a typical Eudoran child on a host planet; his parents had kept no secrets and had raised him with the history, abilities, and culture of his people. He, like all Eudoran kids, never spoke of it outside the family walls. Eudorans were born with an innate understanding of when to keep things secret. Not that he had the need to share it. Earth was all he knew. Neither he nor his parents had ever visited their home planet. Ramsey, like his parents, were Eudoran descendants born on Earth. It had been decades since any Eudoran had traveled to their home planet, and they had accepted that they would likely never return, though they carried the secret hope that one day that opportunity would present itself again. No matter how long a Community lived on another planet, the desire to see home again remained with each member.

After his father’s death, his mother retreated from their normal outgoing, social way of life into her own private world. Ramsey was left on his own to figure out how to cope without a father. He longed to find his place in a home that now felt foreign to him. He found only a small measure of peace when he was able to sneak out of his house, grab his baseball bat, and go hit some balls at the local batting range. His mother could not abide it, though. The memories were too hard.

Two years after his dad’s death, his mother unexpectedly remarried. She had met a man who had proposed to her six months after meeting her. Ramsey’s anger consumed him. In his mind, she had betrayed his father and dishonored his memory. He hated his stepfather. Worse, his stepfather had a son two years younger than Ramsey, and he hated him too. By then, Ramsey was fourteen and had all the attributes of a teenager out of control. He’d skip school, ignore homework, break curfew, and he became a total nightmare to his mother. After he was arrested at the age of eighteen for drinking under age and driving under the influence, his stepfather kicked him out, and his mother didn’t stop him. Ramsey hadn’t cared, or if he did, he refused to show it. He was ready to leave anyway. If it hadn’t been for his grandmother, his father’s mother, he would have never survived his teenage years. Without her, he would have undoubtedly ended up in jail, hanging out with Earth and Eudoran losers alike.

His grandmother had opened her home to him and allowed him the space he needed to grieve for his father without putting her needs before his. She had let him be as angry as he needed to be at the world, and she never judged or labeled him as anything other than her grandson. It was something he was grateful for every day of his life. Because of her influence, he had become the man he was today. He thought of her as he eyed his stepbrother across the room and wondered what advice she would offer at this particular moment. He doubted she would approve of the scenario playing out in his head. She’d always had a soft spot for Declan. She acknowledged that he was no more to blame for the destruction of Ramsey’s family than Ramsey had been. But Ramsey had not been able to see it that way. He had not seen his stepbrother in two years and had planned not to see him for several more. Obviously, that plan had failed.

Both brothers took a moment to size each other up, neither saying a word after the initial introduction. Declan was much as Ramsey remembered him. He was of similar stature to Ramsey, but fairer, with shorter sandy-brown hair and dark blue eyes, as opposed to Ramsey’s longer wavy black hair and brown eyes. Where Ramsey had excelled at wrestling and baseball, Declan had excelled at swimming and track. They were both smart and successful in their fields, but in completely opposite ways. Declan was a planner and studier; Ramsey went with his gut and made decisions on the fly. The strengths each man possessed were a source of complete irritation to the other. They were the proverbial opposites, one salt and the other pepper.

Ramsey broke the silence first, saying in a whisper, “Keep your voice down.” He stifled the urge to say something more vitriolic, but he needed to stay focused and not let his emotions get the better of him.

“What?” asked Declan.

Ramsey made the “shh” gesture by putting his index finger over his pursed lips. It was not the gesture he wanted to use, but again he reined in his initial inclination. No need to stir the pot.

He waved Declan toward the other side of the house, and Declan followed with a puzzled expression.

They moved to the office, away from the back bathroom. Ramsey closed the doors to the room. Once inside, they faced each other.

“Declan,” Ramsey stated, crossing his arms.

“John,” Declan replied with the same tone. He paused before speaking again. “You want to tell me why we’re talking like we’re in a chapel? You suddenly become pious?”

Ramsey didn’t respond to Declan’s wisecrack. “It’s my assignment. She’s going through a Shift. She’s extremely sensitive to sound at the moment. Just thought you might like to consider staying quiet for once.”

Declan snickered, but his expression quickly sobered. “No problem,” he said more quietly, eyeing his stepbrother. “If you can do it, then I certainly can.”

“Good,” responded Ramsey, and he moved to walk away.

“Hey, you think you could take a moment out of your busy schedule to get me up to speed?”

Ramsey stopped and turned back. “What, Morgana didn’t give you all the juicy details?” He could feel the building irritation, which always flared upon seeing his stepbrother.

Declan narrowed his eyes as his own temper sparked. “No, she didn’t. This was a rush job. She only told me to get here fast and discreetly. I didn’t even know it was you until I arrived.”

It was Ramsey’s turn to snicker. “Just like Morgana.”

“She has her charm,” replied Declan.

“Not the word I would use, but then you always were the more appropriate one.”

Declan chewed on that. “I was at that. You, on the other hand, well, you always lacked that particular quality, didn’t you, bro?”

Ramsey held his breath. “Guess it had something to do with the company I kept.”

Declan remained calm, but the tension radiating from him grew. “Yeah.” He paused. “Must have been terrible hanging out with such an ‘appropriate’ brother, huh? I mean after all, I am the one who had the dad, right?”

Ramsey stilled but spat back, “You want a blue ribbon, bro? Because your dad sure as hell didn’t deserve one.”

They stood stiffly and eyeballed each other as the tension conveyed messages of past contention that both would rather forget.

Ramsey acknowledged the stupidity of the argument. He didn’t need this complication right now. He forced himself to relax. They were both here to do a job; surely they could handle themselves professionally while in the same room. He took a deep breath.

Declan watched Ramsey and picked up on the energy shift. He adjusted his energy to meet Ramsey’s calmer state. “We good?” he asked, taking his own deep breath.

Ramsey relaxed his posture and eased up on his evil-eye stare. “As long as I’m on this assignment, Declan, I got no beef with you. I just need you to do your job, and I’ll do mine. Everything else is for another day. You can handle that?”

Declan followed Ramsey’s lead and collected himself. “I can handle that. Just tell me what we’re dealing with here.”

Ramsey told Declan about the situation. At the mention of Sarah’s Shift and subsequent kidnap attempt, Declan looked puzzled. He let Ramsey finish his account before he asked the obvious question. “So what’s special about her?”

Ramsey anticipated he’d have trouble keeping Sarah’s secret from Declan. The man was an energy-reading machine. He debated not telling him, but decided it was futile. He chose to be honest.

“We think she’s a Red-Line.”

“A what?” asked Declan.

“A Red-Line.”

“How do you know that?”

“You think Morgana would have sent you here otherwise? I’ve handled plenty of difficult shifts, and as far as I can remember, I’ve never needed your assistance before now.”

“And it’s killing you, isn’t it, me helping you?”

“I’m slowly dying as we speak. You weren’t my first choice.”

“Of course I wasn’t.”

“Hannah, the lady helping Sarah right now, doesn’t know.”

“That I wasn’t your first choice?”

“No, stupid. About Sarah.”

Declan wondered about that. “You think she won’t know eventually? She’s bathing her. At some point, she’ll be an idiot if she doesn’t figure it out.”

Ramsey realized what Declan meant, and he felt like an idiot for not thinking of that himself. “So I’ll deal with that when the time comes.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“So what are you going to do?” Ramsey asked.

“What I always do. Keep my clients safe.”

Ramsey didn’t respond. He didn’t know if he was included as one of Declan’s clients or not, but it didn’t matter. He just wanted Sarah to be protected.

“Just do me one favor,” requested Declan.

“What’s that?”

Declan eyed him. “Don’t compromise yourself for her. You’ll end up getting yourself killed.”

Declan’s apparent concern surprised Ramsey, but his interference annoyed him. “Don’t worry about me,” he scoffed. “I don’t plan on doing you any favors.” As he turned to leave, he looked back at Declan, who watched him with an unreadable expression. He spoke plainly. “Let’s get to work.”

**

THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR hours passed quickly. After the bath, Sarah’s mental alertness improved. She managed to use the restroom and even walk into the adjoining bedroom under her own power. She’d depleted her strength by then, though, and needed Hannah’s help to get redressed and Ramsey’s to carry her back to the master bedroom. Her noise sensitivity had lessened enough for them to speak quietly to her. Once back in the bed, she drank water but refused to eat anything.