Read Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) Online
Authors: Craig Andrews
Splinter (The Machinists Book 2) (29 page)
“I don’t understand,” Jaxon said. Canary was propped upright in her bed, her blankets wrapped tightly around her legs. Her eyes were open, but she didn’t seem aware of any of her immediate surroundings. As always, she rambled a stream of incoherent thoughts.
“It’s a bittersweet. I’m here, I’m here. Waking up is hard to do.”
Allyn and Kendyl stood with Liam beside her bed. In Liam’s hand was a retro radio.
“Watch.” Liam turned on the radio, and warm music filled the room. Liam, Allyn, and Kendyl looked to Canary expectantly. It wasn’t immediately obvious at first, but the tenor of her ramblings changed. They still had the same emotionless quality, but they felt more focused. More coherent.
Liam changed the radio station, and Canary’s tone changed with it.
Jaxon took a step forward. He watched her lips. Listened to the radio. Watched closer.
“She’s repeating the radio,” Jaxon said.
Liam shook his head. “No.”
Jaxon watched more closely. Liam was right. Canary wasn’t simply repeating the radio—she was saying the same thing at the same time as the broadcast. Liam changed the station again for effect, and again, Canary changed with it.
“How is she doing that?” Jaxon asked.
“She’s an antennae,” Liam said. “She’s not suffering a metal breakdown. She’s being bombarded with information she can’t filter. She’s a machinist, Jaxon.”
“Why now?” Jaxon asked, disbelieving. “Why wasn’t she like this at the manor?”
“My jammer blocked all unwanted transmissions—which, because of my father, was pretty much all of them.”
“And why is she suddenly so…” He struggled to find the word.
“Lucid?” Liam asked. “Because we’re giving her something to focus on.”
“She’s like someone suffering from autism,” Kendyl said. “Everything she hears is
loud
, and she can’t tune any of it out or push it to the back of her mind. It’s like she’s in a room with a thousand conversations going on at once, and everyone is yelling. She can’t distinguish between them.”
“So her ramblings…” Jaxon started.
“Are her picking up bits of phone conversations or radio transmissions,” Liam said. “Maybe TV or texts. I don’t know how broad her spectrum is yet.”
“Unbelievable.” Jaxon shook his head—he couldn’t help it. His first thought was that they could have used Canary’s ability to pick up on radio transmissions and communications for the past week. They could have known what the police were going to do before the orders were even sent out. But that quickly morphed into something bigger. Something more important. “Three machinists…” Jaxon’s quiet voice carried through the room.
“Four,” Allyn said.
Liam shut off the radio. “Four?”
Allyn turned to Kendyl. “I’m sorry. I wanted to talk to you about it first, but I found it.”
“Found what?” Kendyl glanced uncomfortably at the other occupants in the room.
“Your purpose,” Allyn said. “In the car, right before the battle with Maddox, you did something to me. And I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think I understand now.”
“All I did was tell you that we were in this together,” Kendyl said dismissively.
“No,” Allyn said. “You gave me confidence.”
“That’s what I was trying to do.”
“You gave me
your
confidence.”
Kendyl went very still. Leira shifted in the corner of Jaxon’s vision.
“How did you feel afterward?” Allyn asked. “Because I can’t tell you how confident I was facing Maddox. I’ve never felt anything like that before. And you… you looked like you were going to pass out.”
“I…”
“It’s just like a cleric—only instead of healing me, you gave me your emotion. So I started thinking, and you know what I realized? You’ve been doing it for a long time. Remember how I said that we pulled each other through Mom’s death? That we were there for each other, gave one another strength? Well, that was quite literally what was happening.”
“Allyn,” Kendyl said, smiling nervously, “I love you, but you don’t have to make things up to make me feel better.”
“I’m not making this up,” Allyn said. “How many times have I joked about your personality being contagious? Or that I can feel your mood from across the room? Are you telling me that you didn’t notice anything?”
“I… I’ll have to think about it.”
The room went uncomfortably quiet. Allyn looked frustrated, as if he’d expected Kendyl to agree with him right away. He should have known better. People with such strong doubts about themselves need something nearly supernatural to snap them out of their self-perceived limitations.
“She’s not a machinist,” Leira said. “She’s an
empath
.”
“A what?” Allyn asked.
“An empath,” Leira repeated.
“That can’t be,” Jaxon said. “They died out.”
“Not entirely,” Leira said. “They’re just extremely rare, only one born every couple generations or so, if that. Kendyl, you’re brother’s right. You’re very special.”
“Will someone please tell me what an empath is?” Allyn asked.
“They wield emotion,” Leira said. “And what you’ve seen is just the beginning. In time, Kendyl will be able to control it, manipulate it, and fill you with feelings of her choosing—as long as she has it inside to pull from. Empaths are very powerful—and very dangerous.”
Kendyl took a tentative step away from the group and brought a hand up to cover her mouth.
“Kendyl?” Allyn said, worry thick in his voice.
She broke down in tears.
Allyn’s room was on the backside of the estate, overlooking the ocean. It was a good size and reminded him of his room at the McCollum Manor, complete with a queen bed, bedside tables, a sitting chair, and floor-to-ceiling curtains. The sky was a majestic mural of warm colors as the last of the sun’s rays clung to the horizon.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Kendyl said from the sitting chair. She leaned against its arm, massaging her forehead with her hand, keeping her eyes closed. Since leaving Canary’s room, she’d been quiet and contemplative. Part of Allyn thought to give her some space, let her work things out on her own, but if that was what she’d wanted she could have returned to her own room. Instead she was here with him, using his silent presence for support.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Allyn turned from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. “It’s a lot to take in. I know—I’ve been there.”
“It’s more than just being able to wield,” she said. “It’s…”
“Having something to do it for.”
Kendyl bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I haven’t felt this much at home since Mom died.”
Allyn didn’t know what to say. He stepped from the bed and sat on the arm of the chair, pulling Kendyl close. She melted into him.
“Me neither,” he said. “Me neither.”
A knock at the door interrupted the moment, and Liam popped his head into the room half a second later. The eager smile slipped from his face as he realized he had interrupted something special.
“It’s okay,” Allyn said, letting Kendyl out of the embrace. “Come in.”
Liam’s smile returned as he stepped into the room. “I brought you something,” he said, handing Allyn and Kendyl each a rectangular object.
“What are these?” Allyn asked.
“What do they look like?”
Allyn flipped his over. He was looking at a picture of himself, an image taken five or six years ago when he’d renewed his driver’s license. Beside it was the standard name, date of birth, height, weight, issue date, and other information found on an ID. None of it matched Allyn’s.
“I figured if you can’t be Allyn and Kendyl Kaplan anymore, you might as well be Allyn and Kendyl McCollum.”
“Liam—” Allyn started. The lump in his throat made it hard to talk.
“This is wonderful,” Kendyl finished.
“Thank you,” they said together.
Liam’s smile was radiant. “Welcome to the Family.”
The story continues in…
Martyr
The Machinists Series, Book Three
Coming Soon
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Acknowledgments
I
knew that writing the second book to an ongoing series was going to be difficult. The story and conflict needed to get bigger, the characters and world needed to feel deeper, and there needed to be a sense of progression toward the larger story arc—even if it wasn’t absolutely clear what that arc is. But I didn’t know it was going to be
this
difficult. It wasn’t until I was about halfway through the first draft that I realized the book I was writing was, in many ways, the opposite of what my preconceived notions of what a sequel should be.
The book you’re holding in your hands is in many ways a more contained, more personal story than
Fracture
. Gone is the mystery, the clearly-defined villain, and overall sense of dark wonder. In its place is a story about people trying to hold their family together, about trying to find their place in a strange and terrifying new environment, and coping with the idea that they’re capable of doing something truly awful in the name of love and survival.
All that said,
Splinter
is, without a doubt (and for better or worse), the book I set out to write. I tell you this, because I’ve had a lot of help over the last year, and while I can’t mention
everyone
, I want to publically thank those that were there for me every day.
As always, it begins with my wife, Tiffany. We welcomed our second son into the world last November, so sleep and quiet time was replaced by chaos and stress; and somehow, even with two children and a dog all under four years old, she held it together and helped me find time to write. Sometimes I wonder why she sticks with me (I’m not the easiest person to live with), but she does, and I’m a better person because of it.
Thank you, Gary and Gala for spending so many weekends at my house playing with the boys, and helping Tiffany with whatever project she had going that week. Simply put, without your help I never would have found enough time to finish this book.
To my own parents, who this book is dedicated, words can never express the amount of pride I have to be your son. As a relatively new parent, I’m just beginning to understand the never-ending sacrifices you’ve made for your children, and I grow more and more thankful every day. You’re heroes and role models in more ways than one.
For Ender, who points at my book anytime he sees it and shouts, “Dad, look! It’s your book!” You’re my inspiration, and I’m already a bigger fan of your accomplishments than you are of mine. And Callan… Your smile. Your laugh. Like your brother, you can turn a rough day into a magical one in the time it takes for me to walk through the door.
Thank you Lynn and Stefanie at Red Adept Publishing. It’s been another year, with another book, and it’s still a wonderful experience.
To Scott, Mary, and Megan, thank you for your early feedback and enthusiasm. You’ll never know how important it is for me to have someone to talk to about sticky plot points or troublesome characters arcs. I couldn’t ask for better friends, or more excited fans. You’re awesome.
And of course, a huge thank you goes to every person who has joined me on this journey. You took a chance on an unknown author, and for that I’ll be forever grateful. I hope you stick with me as we delve into the next adventure. Big things are coming!
—Craig Andrews
About The Author
C
raig Andrews graduated from Portland State University with a Bachelors of Arts in English. Growing up on a healthy diet of fantasy and science fiction, some of his favorite childhood memories include being traumatized by the TV shows
Unsolved Mysteries
and
The X-Files
. He currently lives in a small, rural town outside of Portland, Oregon with his wife and two boys.
Say “hi” at any of the following
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