Bright Star (18 page)

“Try,” Jackson pressed. They had come to the kitchen and Rush had given up escaping them. Instead, he paced around the room as Jackson and Bright Star looked on.

Rush cast around for an explanation. “Think about wearing sunglasses. You wear ones tinted green, and I wear glasses tinted blue. Even if we look at the same object, we see it differently. Still, that object is, in its nature, only one object.”

“I’m trying to follow you.”

“I don’t think I can explain it any better.”

Jackson squinted his eyes. He was all of a sudden tired. His head was splitting. He didn’t understand, even after all that Bright Star had shown him. He just couldn’t get it all straight. More than anything, he didn’t understand why his brother, who was obviously at the center of this, who could—at least according to Bright Star—stop this, didn’t do just that. “I know you can stop her. Why don’t you stop her from doing this?”

“She won’t stop. It’s a part of her nature,” Rush explained as he had what felt like a thousand times before.

“Why don’t you send her away? At least then—”

“You spent the whole day learning the beginning, and yet, you think sending her away will work. That’s crazy, Jacks. I sent her away once, she came back. No matter where I send her, unless I
kill
her she will come back.”

At that last, Jackson was stunned. The fact his brother had even mentioned it meant that he had thought about killing her or rather, letting her die.

“Unless you want that,” Rush pressed on, “Unless you want me to let her die the next time she does this. Because, let’s face it, we both know she will do it again.” Jackson said nothing. But Rush brought his face close to his brother’s and pressed further. “Will you be able to forgive me if the next time I just let her die? Will you be able to stop yourself from trying to save her yourself, first with your Service first aid, then with Shift? And when you can’t save her and the Perma-Shift starts to kick in will you let go of the Shift or will you kill yourself right along with her?” Rush’s voice rose passionately and his words came faster and faster. “I wouldn’t let you, Jackson. I wouldn’t let you die. But would you be able to cope with the knowledge that I didn’t save her and you
couldn’t
save her?”

Jackson didn’t answer him.

Rush then turned his angry gaze to Bright Star. “What do you think, Bright Star?”

Bright Star’s mouth fell open in alarm.

“What do you think will happen if I just let you die next time?”

She brought a hand up to her throat as if she were strangling.

Rush turned away from her. “Stop the histrionics. We both know how selfish I am. We both know we have a long way to go before we die.” Rush then left the couple standing there. Jackson watched Bright Star closely.

Follower

Frankie Monnish stood at the front entrance of the Magnussand Convention Center. She was the coffee-skinned woman in the tailored navy suit and smart low heels with her thick black hair pulled back from her face. She was the one wearing small silver loops in her ears; the one who smiled softly and ushered her partners away with reassuring smiles and nods. She patted their backs, squeezed their hands, hugged their necks, and kissed their cheeks. She assured them the seminar had been a success and that their research would be fully funded for the next five and a half years. They had investors and “friends” aplenty with pockets that ran incredibly deep. Some of these friends at that very moment were hopefully observing, waiting to be needed. She assured them all would be well. Then, she reminded them of their next meeting and of the objectives on their aggressive timeline. That was her job, and she was good at it. She was their leader.

As the bellmen secured taxis for the group of seven physicists and eight very wealthy physics aficionados, Frankie stood back a little and grinned openly when any of them glanced her way. When the youngest of the consultants turned a hopeful and somewhat unsure smile her way, she couldn’t help but run her fingers over her cufflinks. She was wearing the platinum ones with an etched blue star on each. She didn’t know why she’d bought them in the airport. Maybe the layover. Still, Frankie had been drawn to them. So drawn that she bought them even though she didn’t own a shirt that needed them. She’d bought a shirt, electric blue with a fine white stripe, shortly after she landed. The young physicist had been asking for the cufflinks since that morning when he’d first spotted them. Frankie suspected it wasn’t the little gleaming metal buttons that prompted him. She shook her head every time she tried to figure out why his attraction didn’t extend to someone younger, more lively.

Frankie stroked the links again and waved vibrantly as her peers and friends started to pile into the cabs. When Kate, the oldest and most disheveled of the group started to ask her again to join them, Frankie put up a quick hand in farewell. She dug the nails of her other hand into her palm. The acute, piercing pain served as a focal point for her thoughts, and helped her mask the horrible tangle of emotions twisting her insides. She could never make it through dinner. Even now, she wouldn’t return to the hotel. Instead, Frankie would go for a walk.

When the tears were shed, she did not want to risk someone seeing as she made her way to her room. She didn’t want to continue the pretense or maintain her plastic smile as she suffered in silence. Starting away slowly, Frankie took a look back to watch them make a decision about where they would eat, then pile into taxis. The cabs lumbered away in the heavy, wet traffic.

As if it had been waiting for the perfect moment, a ragged sob tore from her throat though her eyes were dry. She walked quicker, wishing she could just be home in that moment. Another sob ripped through her and she found herself slumping against the aging building, holding her arms over her stomach. She wished more than ever that she had had a baby. Never had she wanted anything more than she wanted a child. Now, she would not have one.

“Hi,” a young woman whispered softly to her. Frankie didn’t respond. She couldn’t if she’d tried. “Hi,” she whispered again. Frankie stumbled. The young redhead eased closer to her. Frankie stumbled again and the other woman flew to her side and supported her with a shoulder beneath one of the Frankie’s arms.

“Hey,” the girl with red hair breathed. She moved her fingers in front of the Frankie’s eyes trying to get her attention. But Frankie’s eyes did not focus. She brushed at the hand before her.

“Hey,” the girl with the opalescent skin called one more time, continuing to hold on to the older Frankie’s heavier frame. “Are you OK?” The girl obviously didn’t expect an answer. She didn’t get one. Instead, in an exaggerated movement the woman threw the arm off her shoulder and shuffled forward. Before she took five steps, she stumbled again.

The girl rushed to her side again. Frankie didn’t move, but the stranger whose eyes were a glowing blue could tell that she was crying. “What’s wrong, Point?”

“Nothing.”

“Something’s wrong or you wouldn’t be crying,” the newcomer argued sensibly. The other woman just shook her head.

The young woman leaned against the building. Her shoulder was just a couple inches below that of the other woman. She huffed a big sigh then crossed her arms over her breasts.

“What are you doing?” Frankie asked.

“Waiting,” she answered in a pleasant tone. “You wouldn’t believe how patient I am.”

“How patient?” Frankie couldn’t help asking. She wanted to smile but it only came across, she was sure, as a pained grimace.

“I waited four years to find…” she screwed up her face. “To find my true love?” That was close enough and probably palatable.

“That’s patient,” Frankie agreed, this time truly managing a watery smile. Then she switched gears. “I don’t know you from Adam. You’re a total stranger. I don’t think I should or could talk to you.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a perfect stranger. No expectations, you know. No judgments. Or rather no judgments you have to concern yourself with.”

“I see you’ve given this stranger thing a lot of thought.” Frankie pushed herself away from the building and started walking again. This time she was determined to go back to the hotel. At least there, if she could make it up to her room, she would be able to have a couple hours alone until her crew started back from dinner.

“I have.” The woman nodded and fell into step beside her. “Would it help if I told you something?”

“Probably not,” Frankie answered.

“What if I tell you something that you may find impossible to believe?” Frankie shrugged as if saying ‘give it a shot.’ “My life was saved once by a stranger. He’s been saving me ever since.”

Frankie thought about how poetic that sounded. And idealistic. The girl must have been younger than she appeared. “Are you in a cult?” Frankie grinned, though she was only half kidding. “I have to warn you that I’m a pretty rational lady. I’m a physicist.”

“My name is Bright Star.” The girl put out a small hand. “And I am not a member of a cult. I’ve got just two friends in the whole wide world, and unfortunately they are both men.”

“Frankie,” she returned, taking the hand with a smile. “Bright Star? That’s an odd name.”

“Better than the one I was born with,” she kidded. “Here,” Bright Star instructed, holding her arms out. “Hold on to me.”

“What?” The other woman asked, backing away warily. She bit down on her lower lip, and appeared quite horrified.

“Hug me,” Bright Star told her again and waited. “I can tell that you don’t usually touch people, especially strangers. I know how much I ask when beg you to believe me, trust me. You need to be held. You need what he can offer you.”

Frankie felt dubious. She also felt—without sound reason—hopeful. Bright Star waited. Frankie rubbed the palms of her hands together. She didn’t truly understand what the young woman was offering. She did understand that whatever it was had to be monumental. She could feel the air around them sparking. Sometimes, she could feel things like that. Frankie thought that was why she was good at her job. She didn’t just know Energy. She felt Energy. She commanded Energy in her own small way.

Sure, she’d been tested when she was a kid but she had been rejected. She hadn’t been as strong as the other Shifters. But she had been strong enough to draw the attention of the Service. She was strong enough that if she ever found herself without a job or resources, she would be accepted back into the fold no questions asked. But she had never felt the High Energy as strong as she did in that moment. It was a living, pulsing force, drawing her into the smaller woman’s arms.

Point immediately collapsed inside. Amazingly strong, Bright Star anchored her so that she did not crumble physically in her succumbing. She could have never prepared herself for the force of that jolt. As the arms had closed around her. Light and Energy and Sound and Touch were all present and absent at once. It was an instantaneous immersion. Baptismal.

When it was done. Frankie felt free of the cancer that ravaged her body. She felt as if she had died and come back, been reborn without it.

“How did you…”

“I didn’t, Point. I am merely working through the Energy that has been left in me by Rush. For me, it has its limits but…” She sighed and shook her head. “This change you feel is not permanent. Even now, the cancer is growing again. I have only given you the gift of time, not of life.”

“But I feel so… so…”

Bright Star nodded, feeling the pride swelling up inside of her. Rush had given her a gift, and now someone else was beginning to understand its strength.

“It’s not me. I couldn’t have even done this much for you if not for him.” Bright Star held her firmly by the hands. “Rush can finish this. Rush can take this from you forever.”

“Who is he?”

“He is Rush.” Bright Star answered reverently. Then her eyes sparked blue. For the first time, Frankie noticed them. They were so blue they almost…almost seemed to shine; to beam light. And then, Bright Star had a vision. “Point,” she called to the former Frankie, “Would you like to meet him?”