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"Caelan, these tanks are all undamaged." I distinctly remembered...well, Asha remembering breaking free of the tank. The pain of the ragged edges clawing at her as she climbed out...I shook my head to clear the image from it.

Caelan turned back toward me and reached out to the metal base on the nearest tank, pressing under the ledge where the markings were inscribed. A soft whirring, much like what I'd heard when he opened the drawer, emerged from somewhere in the base. The rounded glass top, the part that looked like a test tube, began to rotate, disappearing into the base below, leaving 147

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essentially a metal bed.

"There is a release here." He indicated the underside of the ledge on the base. "And on the inside." He pushed down on a small square of shinier metal several inches in from the edge of the base and with another quiet sound, the glass cover returned. "And we presume the fluid fills and drains through the openings down here." He pointed to two small circular holes at the head of the tank.

"So, you didn't know about the release button and had to break out?" I was still trying to reconcile this new information with what I'd seen in Asha's head.

He nodded. "Then, once we escaped, we found the release, but it did not work."

"Because you damaged the tanks to escape?" I guessed.

"Perhaps," he said.

"Or maybe they never worked at all," I surmised.

"We don't know, but it does seem to be a large coincidence that we are the only ones to wake free of whatever mind control dominates the others and the only ones whose tanks do not have a functioning release mechanism."

"But why would someone free your minds and then sabotage your tanks? Just the four of you, out of all of these." I waved my hand to indicate all the empty unbroken tanks.

"Maybe more than one was involved," he said with a slight shrug. "We can only eliminate Nevan from possibility–his reaction at our state was much too genuine for artifice."

"Nevan found you here?" I asked, startled. I knew that Nevan had to be coming into the mix somehow, but I hadn't expected it to be here.

"After awakening, we waited here for almost a full day and night."

I nodded to encourage him.

"Not because we were tied here but because we knew we 148

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could wander without destination, and there would be nothing to stop or guide us," he paused, shrugging again, "and somehow that wasn't right. We didn't know why or how it should have been different, only that this was not the way it was supposed to be." I raised an eyebrow at the idea of a bunch of infants–which, despite their full-grown size, was essentially what they were–knowing how anything was supposed to be.

"True," he acknowledged. "But it was a point upon which we all agreed."

"So you decided to wait."

"Yes. Eventually we had to leave to find food, and it was upon our return from that journey we found Nevan here." I sucked in a breath.

"We didn't recognize him in the sense of him being familiar, but only in being less strange than the other things that surrounded us, much like how we recognized each other." I nodded. Having been inside Asha's memory for the part of the Awakening in which she realized she somehow knew the others, I understood what he meant.

"And we all knew his name."

That surprised me. Maybe someone had been feeding them information during their development, like mothers who play Mozart for their babies in the womb. And whoever had freed their minds hadn't bothered to or couldn't take that information away. It was probably also how they had recognized one another as members of the same whole, a team.

"At first, he didn't understand. He was angry, we could all sense that, but he was trying to communicate as we do."

"Thought-sharing," I said. "But you speak out loud too."

"It is not our preference, but we are capable of it, obviously, when it's needed."

"Like when you have to talk to Nevan." Or scare a human to death. The very first conversation I'd ever witnessed between them 149

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all had been aloud, probably for my benefit. "So you didn't understand him until he spoke aloud."

He nodded. "It was like communicating with the humans." I flinched at how strange it sounded to hear him make that reference and to know that I was no longer included in that group.

"We knew already we were different from the humans. We felt their anger and fear at our presence."

"This would have been what, maybe a week after first contact?" I asked.

"Approximately."

The riot fires in Los Angeles and D.C. would still have been burning. People would have been in the streets, throwing rocks, garbage, anything, and everything at someone who could possibly have been one of those Fobbers.

"You're lucky that the humans you did encounter didn't try to hurt you," I said.

He didn't respond, and guilt clutched at me. In that way, I suppose I'd been lucky, left with a family who cared about me.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"We defended ourselves, and they left us alone," he said. Yeah, I bet they did. Watch someone get thrown around or cut open without a knife or even a hand involved, and yeah, they'll leave you alone.

"So, Nevan found you here, and he was angry," I prompted.

"We knew Nevan was not human, but he was not like us either. His appearance was similar but not the same."

"All silver eyes, shorter height," I recited from our earlier conversation.

Caelan nodded. "But he knew us, expected something from us and when we didn't respond appropriately–"

"He got mad," I guessed.

"Yes, and frightened."

I frowned. "Scared, really?" That didn't match the experience 150

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I'd witnessed.

"Our strength, in a group, is superior to his, and at that time, he may not have been certain of our intent." But now he was. He knew they wouldn't kill him because they wouldn't get their information. I frowned. "But if you know you don't have any memories, what do you need him for?"

"The truth. Proof that my theory is correct. And an explanation of how and why."

Yeah, I wouldn't mind all that myself.

"Once he realized we had no intention of harming him, at least for the moment, he began to question us," Caelan paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "He asked about her, whether she had done this to us, what had she done."

At those words, everything inside me went very still and in my head, the memory of Nevan's voice played again.
Given more
time, I would have enjoyed finding out if what she told me was
true...You look exactly as she said you would.
I felt Caelan stiffen beside me.

"The same 'she' from my dreams?" I was chilled by what could be no more than a coincidence...albeit a really big one.

"I don't know," he said. "But he sounds the same, when he spoke to us as when he spoke to you. Angry, frightened..."

"Betrayed." I wasn't sure where I got that from other than instinct telling me true, identifying that particular brand of anger from the rest. "But this is nuts. Why would she hide me away when she was going to try to kill you by sabotaging your tanks?

After freeing your minds, I might add, which makes absolutely no sense."

"That is why we need Nevan to tell us," he said. "We should continue."

I nodded. We walked on in silence for another few seconds, then the floor suddenly crunched underfoot, and I looked down to find that we were now walking on shattered bits of the tank 151

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material. We had to be getting close. Just as abruptly, the perfect rows suddenly wavered and went jagged. These tanks were skewed, some almost 90 degrees from the others in the row. Clear signs of a struggle to survive. It was as chaotic and messy in here as any hospital delivery room, I'd guess.

The floor was dull where puddles of the tank fluid had dried and smears of dark red-brown, probably old blood, created abstract patterns. Here and there, I could see distinct footprints around the various tanks.

Thanks to Asha's memories, I knew the tanks were arranged in pairs. Thane in the first tank on my left and Namere on my right, then Caelan and Asha. They certainly weren't the first in these rows, nor were they the last. If there was a technical malfunction, it had nothing to do with being in a certain row or even a certain part of the row.

I moved to stand in front of Caelan's. "Yours?" I said.

"Yes." He sounded out of breath. I looked up to find him trembling, sweat covering his face in a fine sheen. His chest labored to draw in air which he expelled almost as soon as he drew it in through his mouth, and his eyes were wide, so dilated that the silver had nearly vanished. He reached inside the tank and removed a bit of glass that was rounded and shaped to fit in the palm of his hand. "Somehow, we are connected. Someone, the female Nevan speaks of perhaps, meant for us to be different, meant for me to find you." He handed the piece of glass to me. I took it, surprised at the weight. Upon close examination, I realized it wasn't quite glass, nor was it plastic but something in between, similar to the material the tanks were made of. It was definitely not earth-made, no "Product of China" stamped on it anywhere. I turned it over and nearly dropped it. My own face shown up at me.

I tapped at it, but the image was not a reflection, it remained unchanged. It was me, to the finest detail, including the smattering 152

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of freckles across my nose that I despised. But it wasn't a photo–more like one of those 3D stickers from when I was a kid but with full color and much better clarity. It looked like if you could reach your finger in, you'd be touching my face. The image stopped just below my neck, and there was no background behind me–nothing to help determine how or when somebody took the picture, for lack of a better word. But, I thought, squinting at it a bit harder, it wasn't recent. None of the laugh lines, such a misnomer, that I'd noticed developing over last couple of years. And the cheeks were still rounded with the baby fat I'd carried in my face until my 19th year, until after my parents died. Tragedy ages you like nothing else, I guess. But it was still me.

I turned to Caelan. "Where did you get this?"

"It was with me when I woke here."

Another bit of information that made no sense, except to confirm that as he'd suspected, we, and the events that had happened to us, were connected in some way.

"As I said, I've always known you," he said. "But I think this was given to me to help me remember."

Despite the heat in here, a chill raced over my skin, raising goosebumps. I handed him back the picture glass. "I think I've had enough for one day," I said. "Can we get out of here?" He nodded rapidly and started to lead the way out. "It is difficult for me near the tanks," he said over his shoulder to me.

"Nevan tried to force us back in when he realized that we were not as he expected."

"But you guys fought back."

"And succeeded," he said. "But sometimes the memory revisits me so strongly, that I have trouble breathing."

"Believe me, I know the feeling." I stepped up closer to him, caught his hand, and squeezed it, as he'd done for me.

"Concentrate on this," I told him. "Focus on the feeling in your hand, the physical sensation. Sometimes focusing on one thing and 153

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blocking out everything else can distract me long enough to calm things down."

His breathing grew slower the closer we got to the door. Once there, he'd recovered enough to put his palm against the panel on the side of the door to open it.

We stepped out into the corridor, out of his panic zone and into mine. My chest tightened once the door slid closed behind us, and I wanted to run toward the ladder and the square of light above us in the distance. But as long as we didn't dawdle, I was pretty sure I could keep it together long enough to get out. I tugged on his hand to get him to hurry.

As we walked, his hand shifted, turning so that his fingers slid through mine. The motion had a sensual feel, zinging through the nerve endings in the sensitive spaces between my fingers. Startled, I looked back at him.

"Thank you for believing me," he said with that intensity I recognized. I forgot about the dark and the walls pressing in too close. All I could feel was the warmth of his palm pressed against mine and the light touch of his fingertips on the back of my hand. I swallowed hard. "Sure." Yes, I'd kissed him before but always at my initiation, and somehow that made this moment all the more intense. I knew I should have backed away, said no. There were still so many things we didn't know, that I didn't know, including the history of his relationship with Asha. But none of that seemed to matter at the moment.

He stepped closer to me until we both stood in the square of light shining down from the upstairs. The heat of his body touched my skin through my clothes.

"Are you sure, um, that you don't have issues interfacing with an earlier model?" I tried to joke, a wobbly smile on my face.

"Are you certain that you do not have issues with one that is less human?" He leaned in closer, his hands on the ladder behind me. Heat flooded through me, pooling low in my belly. 154

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"No. I mean, yes, I'm sure." And I was. Somehow the last of the barriers between us had disappeared. We were, to whatever degree, one and the same of a very select group.

"Good." His mouth closed over mine, and my hands came up to slide under his jacket, pulling him closer to me. His tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing and light, and a little sigh escaped from me. I could feel the heat of him pressing against my stomach, and I wanted more. I moved my hands down to his hips, tugging until he moved closer, pressing me against the ladder. Which I loved for about a half-second before my ribs protested the pressure.

I broke away from him, wincing in pain. "Sorry." I held my side gingerly.

He touched my face, brushing my hair back. "It doesn't matter," he said. "We should return." And find some place way more comfortable than this, I thought at him, just to see what would happen. His eyes widened slightly, then his mouth curved into that now familiar half-smile. "Yes."