The Butterfly Code (23 page)

He rakes a hand through his hair. "I had no idea that injecting you with my blood would create a more direct link between us. It’s not like with the others. It’s stronger."

As we face each other, understanding passes between us. We’re in this together. More deeply than either of us could have imagined. We were drawn to each other before the accident. Yet now there are threads knotted around both of our hearts, tied tightly and pulling us inextricably near. In some ways, we’re closer than two people could ever hope to become. And in others, we’re miles apart.

"You were ill," I blurt out as the realization comes to me. "After you left. I felt you. I made you sick because of this."

"No. That was different."

"And you came to me once at Dad’s, when I was afraid."

"What was that about? I only knew you were frightened. I couldn’t tell why."

"I was late taking the silver pill."

His face pales. "So that’s twice? We can’t let that happen again."

"No. And last night when I was singing it felt like I was crossing over into you or something—is that how it works? Is that what you do to me?"

"Honestly, I spend most of my life trying to avoid it."

"But it could be so interesting."

"I’m not so sure."

"You’ll have to teach me to put a up a wall, then. It’s only fair."

"You’re right. But I can’t lie. With you, it is appealing. I’m not blind to the temptation of what it might be like to explore it further. But earlier, when I showed you what we were capable of, for a minute I thought I wasn’t going to be able to regain control. It’s never happened to me before. It was like being pulled into an ocean current. One minute everything was fine, and the next I thought we were both going to get swept under."

I try to laugh. "What are you saying—that we almost got locked in each other’s minds?"

"Yeah. I am." He shrugs. "It felt good at first. Damn good. But I almost couldn’t stop it. I almost didn’t want to."

T
he door
to the airplane hangar stands open, and the grassy runway is just visible.

"I have to go outside," I say.

He sends his chair scraping back. "I could use a walk. If you don’t mind the company."

I shrug, but am somehow glad when he reads that as a yes. The world is awash in morning glow. We stroll along the plane’s landing path, stepping over crushed daisies and dandelions. The sweet, tannic scent of rosebushes permeates the air. I spot them blooming in great tangled masses like rolls of barbed wire blossoming into life.

When I reach them, I pluck a half-opened bud.

"Aeris?" Hunter says abruptly. "I don’t think we should wait."

I turn, surprised.

"You need to be able to protect yourself. I know it's too late to say sorry for what I put you through, but I am. And I hope you'll see that someday."

It feels good to hear his acknowledgement, even if I am still mad at being kept in the dark. Judging by his furrowed brow and pleading eyes, it's clear he means it.

"Okay. . ." I say. "Apology accepted."

He blows out a sigh and the worried lines on his face ease. "I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Starting right now. Let's do this."

I won’t lie. I feel my excitement rise at the thought of being able to control my empathic ability. Although what happened in the hangar scared the living daylights out of me, there’s an addictive pull that has begun to take hold. I want this. I want to know everything about it.

"Copy me. Cross your arms over your chest, tightly," he says. "It helps, in the beginning, to have a protective stance."

I do what he says.

"Good. Now glare up at me like you don't trust me. Use your eyes. Like you're pushing me away with your expression. Like you're building a distance between us."

I give him my hardest, mistrusting stare.

"Okay, ouch. I guess I deserve that, but it's a little intense coming from you."

"Just doing what you tell me."

"Yeah." His mouth curves with the hint of a grin. "I just didn't think it would come so easy. Then again, I have been a bit of a bastard. . ."

"Hunter. Can we get on with it?" I say, struggling to stay serious.

"Okay, right. So keep that look. And start to imagine a barrier of ice around your heart."

"Stop grinning," I tell him. "And it might be a little easier."

"Right. Good point. Wouldn't want to break your concentration."

I groan. "You're not exactly good at this. Hurry up, or I'm going to start laughing."

The feeling comes to me then. An energy—a presence, his presence, pressing into me. He's crossing the breach. Slipping into my arms; or maybe I'm slipping into his. I frown harder and tense my whole body, trying to shut him out. Still he keeps coming, wrapping around me.

And then, of all the terrible things to do, he tickles my soul. I swear it's the only way to describe it. He's giving me this ferocious, unbearable urge to laugh. I feel his humor inside me and it's so contagious that it's all I can do to keep glaring. I squint and wrap my arms around my ribs. I won't laugh. I refuse to. Freeze, Aeris. Freeze him out!

I imagine myself as the Ice Queen. With blue lips because I'm so cold.

At this, the first giggle emerges. I clamp my lips together. He doesn't let up, he keeps prodding me, goading me, relentless, going after me until my belly aches with the desperate need to laugh. And then we do, both of us, until I'm wiping tears from my eyes.

"Stop," I plead, holding up both hands. "Stop! I give!"

It takes a few minutes before we're both able to get serious again. One after the other, he tries different ways to attack me. With my arms crossed, I lower my lids and push him away. It's impossible.

"I can't do it."

"You can. Concentrate."

Then it comes to me. Fear: a fear so apocalyptic that my insides seem to turn to liquid. The ground loses its solidity. Terror roars in my ears. What's fueling this? A memory of Hunter's? What could make him suffer such horror? He keeps going at me.

I'm frightened. What if I can't escape? What if he can't stop it?

My teeth begin to chatter.

"Don't let me in," he growls. "Shut me out, Aeris. I'm just your audience. Do you understand? Shut me out!"

My audience? How is he my audience? And then I get it. I know what he's trying to make me do. Pretend I'm on stage. That's the one place I know how to shut people out. I imagine I'm playing. I focus my whole being on the tune. The heat of my blood drains.

The fear slips away.

I look at him.

"Can you feel me?" he asks.

I shake my head. "No."

"Nothing?" he says.

"Not a thing." I've done it. For now, when I concentrate, I can control it.

We remain standing mere inches away from each other. The floral-scented air is thick with breathless anticipation. We’re rooted to the center of our world. His brow quirks and I'm almost tempted to let him in just to see what he's feeling. But I’m pretty sure I don’t need supersenses to know he wants me as much as I want him.

"I warned you once before," he says softly. "You need to protect yourself from me. And I'm not just talking empathically." Yet his face doesn't match his words. There's a softness in the lines of his dark brows that makes me want to touch them.

"Why?" I breathe.

"My life is a mess. I don't want to drag you into it."

"I’m already there."

"You’re not. This is only temporary. You and me, being here. Together."

I’m still holding the rose I picked earlier. The thorny stem bites into my palm.

"What are you saying?"

"I have to protect you. I want to. But that’s all."

Birds twitter, singing around us. I don't believe him. Not when I see the rise and fall of his chest and the tightness of his hands at his sides.

"You’ll be free soon," he says. "Back to who you were. Our link will fade and . . . then it will be gone."

Gone.

The word pulls me from my reverie. Our link will be gone. Of course it will be gone. The knowledge of its coming loss stabs me with surprising force.

I’m just beginning to grasp the power of our connection. I don't want to lose it already.

"You’re going to be back to your regular life soon, the Philharmonic, your music." He pushes one hand through his hair. "Look, this will all just seem like some bad dream. Which is how it should be. We don't belong together."

I step away from him and pull his shirt tight around me. I refuse to let him see my hurt. How he can play stoic so easily? Well, I can play it cool, too. "I never said we belonged together."

I think I see a flash of pain, but then it's gone.

"So how long, exactly, will it be until I can get back to my real life?" I ask.

"I'm not sure. Soon, I hope."

Soon. Of course he wants it to be soon. "If you think reverting back to normal is so important, then why don’t you do it yourself?"

"I can’t."

"Can't? Why not? Why don’t you take the pills?"

He takes the thorny rose from me. "You cut yourself."

"I'm fine. Answer the question."

"We tried. The pills don’t work on us. They only work if you start taking them right away. We had high hopes, the others, and me, but we learned that we’re too hardwired. We don't know how to fix ourselves. Doesn't stop us from trying, though."

"So that’s what you’re doing at the lab? You're not researching infectious diseases?"

"I’m afraid so."

"But then why claim—"

"Because it keeps people away."

I'm struck by a pang of sympathy. "But . . . how did you know the drugs would work on me?"

"Poppy."

Outrage floods me and I jerk back. "You’re experimenting on the horses?"

"You really think badly of me, don’t you?" He ruffles his damp hair and an unruly strand topples over his creased forehead. "No. There was a jumping accident and Poppy almost died. Except she didn't, because I saved her."

"You injected her with genetically modified blood? The way you did with me? And it changed her?"

"In her case, I had more time. I didn't inject her with blood. I made a serum. The principle’s the same, though. We’ve isolated the genetic mutation from our DNA. That mutation was inserted into her DNA and forced her broken bones into a healing phase. Afterward, the meds knocked down the genetic mutation—but unlike with you, it only took seven days. She reverted back to normal."

"So you could have saved her again!"

"No. I knew you’d say that. It was too late." Hunter touches my shoulder. "It was her time."

Still, I feel his loss. Pets and horses are friends we never forget. Instinctively I reach up for his hand. We’re so close he nearly blots out the stormy gray sky.

"Is it so impossible for us to be together?" I whisper.

Instantly, I wish I could put my words back. I’m out on a limb and I want to hide. He towers over me in this field of flowers and waving grasses. The slanting morning light makes him look almost timeless, like a sepia photograph. He’s been hardened by whatever trials life has put him through—that much is clear. He has his own agenda, and I’m not on it.

So I’m shocked when he reaches for me and pulls me close. He’s solid, strong. My heart is doing odd little thumps and when he tentatively brushes the hair from my neck, my pulse starts to race. I can see a war being waged in his eyes.

"Maybe just for now," he says.

"Yes. Just for now."

Then he bends closer. I notice that his eyes aren’t just amber; they’re flecked with a kaleidoscope of tawny browns and greens. I’m hypnotized by the shape of his mouth, and my gaze lingers there, feeling its pull. Am I still breathing? I don’t know. Our lips touch and a rush of warmth shoots straight to my toes. He’s kissing me, and, oh, is he ever good at it. I’m lost in the softness of his lips and the faint peppermint taste of his mouth and the strength of his body pressed to mine.

When we release each other we stand staring, our chests rising and falling.

Thunder rumbles overhead. Mist flecks my face.

"Rain," I say, the words oddly distant.

"Yes, rain," he echoes.

The sky opens up. Then we’re laughing and running across the wildly overgrown landscape as the drops slant sideways.

"Race you," he says at my elbow.

"You’re on."

He’s off like a shot. But I’m quick, too. A lightning-speed me. I’m laughing, amazed at my power. I can’t believe he kissed me. An amazing kiss. I had no idea it could ever feel like that.

B
ack in the hangar
, he wraps his arms around me, and I swim in the scent of him, a cool, rain-washed fragrance that makes me feel so alive it almost hurts.

Through the wide entrance, the world sparkles with misty wetness. It feels safe here. Distant. I could walk out in the field, wander to the trees, stare up at the sky, spend time sorting things out. The city promises oppression. Strange people, crowds. I wish we didn’t have to go.

Here, it’s like time has come to a stop.

Here, it’s just me and Hunter.

And our link that I’m only now learning to control. Who knows how much longer it will last? Who knows how amazing it could be? What if we were kissing and we let our emotions merge and—

"I’ll start loading up," Hunter says.

I glance up. "Uh . . . right."

There’s that smile of his again. He opens the rear hatch of the black vehicle. I watch him, all six-foot-something of perfect muscle and warm skin. He turns and catches me, his eyes all but daring me to come closer. My stomach starts doing triple somersaults.

"You make it awfully difficult to leave," he murmurs.

"Really?"

"Yes, and you know it," he says.

My teeth tug at my lower lip. "Do we really have to?"

He nods. "Yes. We do. I don't want anything to happen to you. You seem stable, but I don’t have any medical supplies here. If there was an emergency, we couldn't risk flying to the PRL, not until the plane’s fixed. Besides, we should stay away from there for now. We have to get to New Haven."

O
utside
, the rain has stopped. Sunbeams blaze down through the clouds, lighting up the earth. Before we depart, I shuffle outside in a pair of his combat boots, the toes stuffed with socks. Standing there, I let the green surround me. A carpet of wildflowers, fragrant blossoms in white, pink, yellow and blue, languish under guard of the surrounding trees. Old oaks circle the perimeter, their boughs twining and coming together like the clasping of hands. Swallows flutter, calling out and singing among themselves.

All this time, a low-level hum of worry for my family and Gage has never left my mind. Now it boils up, and the horror strikes me all over again. My stomach clenches and my hands go damp. I just have to know if he made it, if he’s all right. When we get to New Haven, I’ll find a way to check in. Until then, I have no right at all to feel happy or safe.

Far off, a reddish-brown, four-legged creature with a bushy tail stands dead still in the shadow of a tree. A fox. I cup my hand over my eyes to block the sun for a better view. As I do, it melts into the undergrowth and disappears, leaving a trail of waving grasses.

Behind me, an engine roars to life. Hunter drives the Cayenne onto the dirt track. He hops out, locks the Quonset hut’s large double doors, and comes to stand by me.

"See something interesting?"

"A fox."

"I know the one. Healthy-looking guy. He’s been hanging around lately."

We stand together, watching to see if he’ll reappear.

"Don’t beat yourself up," Hunter says. "You gave it your all yesterday. Gage knows that."

I tamp down a piece of earth. Then I face him. "Gage told me he saw you at King’s facility. And that King visited you."

"It’s true. We’ve had a long-standing agreement."

"Which is what?"

"He leaves us alone, and we leave him alone. On occasion, he seems to require a face-to-face meeting to confirm our convictions."

"I still don’t understand why he hasn’t stolen your blood."

"He’s one of the few who knows about us, but there are others in a position to keep things in check."