Bright Star (28 page)

With Perma-Shift cracking his brain and organs into fifty million pieces, Monk brought all forty-seven back to the compound. The five survivors were sent to sleep in their rooms to recover. The forty-two that died lay face up, six feet in the air in a tidy six by seven levitating grid in the courtyard. A cloud hung over them and bathed them in cleansing waters. The ground opened up into forty-two plots beneath them and the grass lifted up to bind their bodies. Monk lowered them into the ground slowly and prayed as the earth sealed itself over them. Monk realized from his second ascent of that cliff that the only reason the Shift was not killing him was that Rush was sharing his burden. This was something he could never have achieved on his own. But only he knew that, and he would never, never tell the others.

He breathed a long and belabored sigh of relief when his task was completed. Then, he saw a vision of a soft, thin, pale, dark-haired angel and the darkness took him.

*

This time they didn’t all come back. Forty-seven had gone. Only five had returned. Besides Bright Star, there was Point, Destroy, Harm, and Mix. Bright Star had felt him waiting. He had waited and waited hoping that he could wait until they all perished beneath the sea. She had even felt Monk turning back to come for them, no, not to come for them, to ensure Rush’s will was done. Still, to Bright Star, none of it had mattered. Forty-seven had gone and only five had come back. Bright Star thanked Rush she was in that number. He had proven how important she would be to securing the future.

Bright Star lay on her back in the center of her bed. Her room, which she liked drenched in light at all times, was dark. Her arms were spread straight out in right angles from her sides. Her legs were straight. Sweat made her whole body gleam an unhealthy white, even in the dark. Her hair was matted to her skull and her silken apple-green nightgown had turned forest with her perspiring. Pools of crimson blood, black in the night, collected beneath her fists as she dug her nails into the flesh of her palms.

Her eyes were open, but not blue. They were clear and dull. She shouldn’t be able to see anything. But what she did see...

First was Myrto. Myrto had piercing blue eyes and red hair like her own. She’d been born to a family on a Greek island where hair like hers never resulted of natural circumstances. That’s how she’d been recognized, even though she was barely eleven. Bright Star tried to picture Myrto’s face but all she could see was ash, all she could feel, could smell was ash. Ash stung her eyes and made its way into her mouth. She squeezed even harder at her fists trying to allay the sense of horror. But she was not to find release.

Next was an image of Lila. Lila, dark and seductive, was calling to her from inexplicable blackness. Bright Star strove to find her but her efforts were in vain. She tossed in her bed. Somewhere her beautiful daughter was still trapped beneath rock and water, dying slowly even though her body had been buried. And then there was a vision of Deluge beckoning to her with water swollen limbs each time she closed her eyes. There was Sunrise and Sunset, the bound twins, whose souls had been led together into the sun; she had felt them drown, then burn. She felt them hurtling from the sky to the ground, dead again, dead forever this time. And then more, more, and even more of her children fading away.

When all of her children were slain again in her mind, she watched it over again, the images coming faster and faster making her scream uncontrollably in the night. “Jacob!”

*

The slim, dark-haired girl walked into the Service Infirmary barely noticed. The body was clad in an ink-black sweater that looked soft as angora over a long flowing satin skirt the color of pitch. She wore soft leather boots that laced up her trim ankles and calves. She held a small, black change purse in one gloved hand, and as she marched through the halls smiling at the loud clacks her boots made on the floor, the sterile chlorine and lemon hospital smell filled her lungs and she started to whistle. It was late. There weren’t many people in the hospital. The door had been locked when she’d arrived. It had even had these interesting electromagnetic strips on either side of the door meant to prevent the use of High Energy. She guessed it was past visiting hours. Good.

She arrived at the elevators and started to push the round button with the up arrow. Instead, she grinned a little. The girl’s natural light blue eyes were flat and uninteresting. Not a single, telling, flicker of a glow. She held up a hand. Her palm faced the elevator door and she felt the slightest tingle in her palm which traveled all the way through to her shoulder. Presently, the up-button beamed bright green. And only moments later the elevator doors opened. She looked over her shoulder to see if she’d been spied. An elderly woman in a worn blue robe stood with a gleaming metal cane. Her ashen skin rippled in folds around her mouth as it quivered. The girl’s lips pulled back from her teeth in a feral smile as her bright eyes trapped those of the older-looking woman. As fast as she could, the rickety woman skittered around the corner and the elevator door closed. The girl tittered as the silver box began to rise.

“That was unkind of you,” she heard from the empty elevator.

“Go away, Jackson” she sneered. “I don’t understand why you of all people can’t see The Purpose.”

“I will never see the purpose,” he returned, then added, “Besides, I thought you were finished… you know… after.” She focused on the fact that this stung. She crumpled a little against the chrome wall behind her.

“Stop looking through my eyes, brother,” she answered in a soft, wilting voice. She was tired and in pain. She wanted to get rid of him but she knew that if he were to find enlightenment, if ever her Purpose were to be fulfilled, she was powerless to push him from her mind, so she waited until she could feel him withdrawing his presence. She started down the hallway of the intensive care unit.

A nurse in a white coat with red, green, and blue flowers printed on it stepped in front of her. “Do you know it’s past visiting hours?” She asked.

“Yesss,” was the response, barely more audible than a whisper. As she listened to the sound, the nurse’s eyes rolled back as her head and body became heavy and she slid to the floor in a deep sleep. Was it sleep? Another nurse coming from a patient’s room touched a hand to her throat as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. When she turned to run, another soft whisper sailed on the air and kissed her hair. She, too, slipped to the ground.

The girl bit down on her lip, feeling a little tired, and marched forward until she found the room she was searching for. She pushed open the door and was more than perturbed. “Another one,” she muttered and rolled her eyes.

The nurse’s head snapped toward her. “What are you—”

“Join your friends.”

The nurse slumped in the chair she’d been sitting in. Her hand was still folded over that of the unconscious patient she’d been tending.

The nurse didn’t even have time to use the minimal amount of Talent she had. The girl noted the hands and smiled a little, thinking of his ability to seduce a woman, apparently even while he slept. Pride somehow took a close second to more hostile feelings. Her eyebrows crinkled and a small crease appeared between them. She was thinking of Point. She pursed her lips and blew out a little. Like a dried leaf in the autumn wind, the nurse’s hand drifted over and off of her patient’s. Satisfied, the girl neared the bed and leaned over it, resting her forearms on the side rails. She shook her head, wondering why he couldn’t just wake up, get out of the bed and walk away with her. At any other time, he would.

After a moment of studying his perfect features: cleanly sheared black hair, long-lashed eyes, his dark, brown skin and aquiline nose, she straightened and laid her change purse down on the bed beside him. She understood why Point had refused to come.

Slowly, she pinched at her fingertips one by one to take off the glove on her right hand. She didn’t want it to interfere. When the glove came off, she softly laid it on top of the little black purse. With measured control, she touched the hem of the sleeve of that same arm, and pulled until she tore the sleeve right from its seam. She laid that over her glove. Then, she lifted up her hand, palm out, like she had earlier. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply until his scent was all she knew. She breathed in even deeper, using his scent as her vehicle to take him in. Then she felt him being drawn out of himself and into the core of her. She breathed in deeper, still feeling herself become light headed with her efforts as she took in as much as she could. And then she let her own power mingle with this foreign presence within her that made her cold as it drew from her the very heat that gave her life.

Bright Star gave as only a mother could give to her child. Then, with mounting power, the presence began to ball up into a hard, hot sphere in her chest. Warm tears trickled from her eyes as she tried to hold on and not let him take too much of her. Her body shook ferociously. Her head lolled back and she could see a pale blue light illuminating the ceiling. Finally, the ball began to move from her chest through her shoulder and down, pressing small through her elbow then wrist and out of her palm. It was only perceptible as a mild violet light glowing in her hand, though the power was immense. Then it floated through the air to land on the man’s chest where it disappeared. She bent over him and laid her hand and arm across his chest as if to enhance her work through physical connection. Her arm was a slender white arc against his darkened complexion.

She felt faint. She was glad she was seated as her knees tingled and wobbled. Monk stirred beneath her. Bright Star yawned and rubbed her eyes, knowing it would take some time for her to regain her strength. How long was it ‘til sunrise?

“Thank you,” Monk said, smiling hesitantly as he opened his black eyes to her and sat up in the bed.

“Let’s go,” she ordered stonily.

“Ahhh,” he said knowingly. “You’re tired...and worried, yes?”

She turned away from him and waited as he donned the black jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket hanging in his closet. He headed towards the door and she started after him. As soon as she stepped away from the bed, she heard her footsteps as they crunched down on gravel. Gravel? Ash, hard ash. She looked down, it was creeping up her leg; her boots were covered in it. It billowed in powdery puffs up to her thighs, her waist. She smelled burning flesh, her own burning flesh. She felt dizzy and clutched her head as she stumbled. She fell against Monk and began to quake uncontrollably. She stared up at him but only saw an exploding yellow ball in an impossibly white sky. Her breathing came in heavy, unchecked gasps.

“Rush won’t like you taking someone else’s body.” Monk’s brows furrowed in concern.

“I didn’t,” Bright Star smiled, shaking off the suggestion that had affected her so strongly. She motioned down towards herself. “This is mine.”

Monk did not pursue her. Instead, he took a long moment to study her. This was the face, he thought. This was the one. He drank in the sight of her. He was unlikely to see this one again. “You shouldn’t have bothered with the nurses and the elevator,” he said with an apologetic grimace and fell into step just a pace behind her. “I wouldn’t have taken so much of your High Energy if I didn’t need it. You know it’s impossible to stop until you’re full.”

“Imagine if you were dying and not just broken.”

Monk narrowed his eyebrows at the subtle admonishment.

“It isn’t that,” she rasped and looked up at him.

Monk put his hands around her upper arms and stared hard into her eyes. For moments they stood that way. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I can’t,” she answered in barely more than a whisper.

“You can’t?” She shook her head slowly. He brought her into his arms, holding her tightly. He thought of how rarely anyone touched her. He thought about who she once was. “Then tomorrow, tomorrow when the sun comes up...”

“Yes,” she agreed as they left the room. They stepped into the elevator.

“You know now? You know that Rush is—”

“He’s not!” she lashed out. An arc of blue fire slashed against him, searing his jacket.

“I wasn’t going to say abandoning us,” Monk assured her. He did not even put a hand to the flesh that had also been seared by the burst of temper. “Rush is fighting us. Harder than he ever has. You know why I couldn’t heal myself. Why you can’t eat. Why your leg won’t heal. Why Ban and Myrto and the rest?” These were not questions and she didn’t respond. “Because it is almost time.” She turned intensely angry eyes upon him. Soon she would not be able to hold back the blue. “The time is almost here, Bright Star. You know it. And you know what he’s doing and you know why he’s doing it.” A hand shot out fast in the night, a pale white flash against his skin. He didn’t smile like so many other times. His expression only grew graver. There was a tick in his clenched jaw. Her angry brown brows ground together in frustration. “He’s stronger than he has ever been. He’s more determined to deny us than he has ever been. I can only wait for the last.”