Trance (31 page)

Caleb was younger than I expected, and he walked with the slumped shoulders of a boy who’d seen too much for only five short years on earth. His mop of black hair and almond eyes were not from his father. The only resemblance to Psystorm was in his sharp nose and thin frame. The boy ran to his father the moment they saw each other. Psystorm swept him up in his arms, holding him close. Unlike his father, Caleb wasn’t fitted with a security collar.

McNally shuffled us toward the waiting copter. I allowed father and son to climb inside first. She grabbed my elbow, pulled me back, and then slipped something into my hand. A black box, smaller than my Vox, with a plastic cover and switch.

“For the collar,” she whispered. “Just in case. One push will render him unconscious. Two will kill him.”

I pocketed the device, sick at having it offered in the first place. She didn’t trust Psystorm. Having it was the responsible thing. I would risk my life at his hands, but not the lives of my remaining teammates.

We climbed inside, and I sat across from our guests. Caleb gazed around the interior, wide-eyed and trembling. He had never been outside of the prison gates. The upcoming jet ride across the country was an experience he would never forget. He sat nearly in his father’s lap, hands bunched in Psystorm’s shirt.

“Are we gonna fly, Daddy?” he asked. “Fly like birds?”

“Yes, we are, Caleb,” Psystorm said, voice soft and reassuring. A doting father. “We’ll fly up with the birds, and in a few hours, we’ll see a brand-new ocean. A pretty one, much bluer than the river. Do you want to see that?”

Caleb nodded, his longish hair flopping into his eyes. “Can Mommy come and see it, too?”

“Mommy’s too sick to come this time.” He looked at me over his son’s head. I forgot the block and was barraged with an overwhelming sense of sadness. “Maybe next trip, okay?”

“Okay.”

It was odd that Psystorm hadn’t negotiated for the release of Caleb’s mother. Or mentioned her in any way, other than just being too sick to travel. It could have been true. It could have been an angry ex’s way of getting his son away from the woman who birthed him, or a doting father’s method of telling his son they were leaving Mommy behind. I didn’t much care, as long as Psystorm did what he promised.

We lifted into the air and turned toward Newark. Caleb pressed his nose against the glass and watched. It was the middle of the night, close to dawn. The sun would chase us home. We’d arrive on the West Coast before it rose there. It would rise, though, and finally end the longest day of my life. The death of a friend, the discovery of a new Ranger, and the freeing of a Bane who wanted a better life for himself and his child. It was too much. All I wanted right now was to crawl into Gage’s arms and sleep. Barring that, a big, steaming mug of coffee would suffice.

My stomach grumbled.

“What are you thinking about, Trance?” Psystorm asked.

I looked up and smiled. “You can’t read my mind?”

“I could, but I won’t without your permission. Trust has to start somewhere, right?”

“You’re right.”

“So?”

“I was trying to imagine the looks on peoples’ faces if we tried to hit a drive-thru in this thing. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“You’re starving? You should see what we had to get by on. It’s been fifteen years since I had a simple cheeseburger, much less a filling meal.”

Caleb ignored our conversation about food, too intent on the colorful lights streaking by below. Could those thin arms and bony knees be a result of his father’s narrow build, or was the child truly malnourished? I had a hard time believing our government would knowingly allow children to suffer. Logic told me the imprisoned Banes would have done anything to hide the existence of those kids from the guards. They ran the risk of having their children taken away.

Had keeping Caleb a secret been selfish on Psystorm’s part, or simply the blind act of a loving father? Looking at them together, I was inclined to believe the latter.

“Has Caleb ever had a doughnut?” I asked.

“No,” Psystorm said. The boy didn’t seem to notice he’d been mentioned.

I picked up a pair of headphones and put them on. “Pilot?”

“If you see a bakery on the way back to Newark, I want you to land. We’re stopping for breakfast before we head home.”

I gave Psystorm a withering stare. “Don’t make me regret it.”

He shook his head and pursed his lips, chin trembling. I felt his gratitude and didn’t shield myself from it. For the first time in my life, I felt kinship with a Bane.

My dad was probably rolling in his grave.

N
o one was waiting on the Base helipad—a welcomed change from last night’s arrival. Caleb seemed nervous to exit the copter. He clutched a box of bakery doughnuts to his chest as his dad carried him off. We had capped his sugar limit to two doughnuts every four hours. The boy was content enough to just have the sweet treats close. On the other hand, I had downed a twenty-four-ounce black coffee (which had little effect on my energy levels) and desperately needed to pee.

McNally led the way across the roof to the stairwell door, Psystorm and son between us. It was still mostly dark. Slivers of light danced on the eastern horizon. If Specter stayed par for the course, we had a good six hours or so before he was strong enough to come after us again.

It wasn’t enough time.

Halfway down, footsteps thundered up the stairwell. One set, moving fast. On the third-floor landing, we stopped and waited. Gage appeared moments later, red-faced and a little out of breath. He ignored McNally,
spared a contemptuous glance at Psystorm, then stalked over to me.

“We need to talk,” he said without preamble.

“It’s good to see you, too.” I was too tired to properly field his indignation. “Mind if I pee first?”

The question caught him off-guard, and he stumbled over his response. “Fine.”

“Agent McNally, can you take Psystorm and Caleb over to Medical and have them checked out? I have a feeling Caleb’s never visited a regular doctor.”

Psystorm shook his head, confirming my suspicion, and the trio continued down. I descended to level two and left the stairwell. Gage followed silently as I sought out the bathroom facilities. He waited by the sinks while I dashed into a stall and disposed of that morning’s caffeine distribution system.

He waited until I was washing my hands to speak. “What the hell were you thinking, Teresa? Going out there alone was stupid.”

“Going out there alone was the smartest thing I’ve done since I took this damned job.”

“You could have been killed.”

“I wasn’t.”

Nothing I said was calming him down; in fact, he was only getting angrier. His cheeks had flushed and his hands trembled. “How the hell am I supposed to protect you when you rush off and leave me behind?”

“Protect me?” I stared at him, flabbergasted. “Gage, you’re not my bodyguard. I made a leadership decision. Period.”

So many things seemed to perch on the tip of his tongue, only to be beaten back. My irritation level was approaching critical. I needed sleep, a shower, a decent meal, and time to regroup—not Gage and his merry-go-round of emotional bottlenecks. Not now, not again. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I stomped my foot. “Goddammit, will you just say whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He flared his nostrils, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. “The second reason,” he ground out.

“The what now?”

“The reasons I’ve held you at arm’s length, Teresa.”

Our conversation from the night before came thundering back. Reasons he’d kept me at an emotional distance, despite the way everything felt right when we were together. “You told me they didn’t matter anymore.”

“I lied, okay? I’m a big fat, fucking liar. Don’t you get it? My entire life I’ve lost every person I care about. My parents, my brother, my mentor, my foster brother. My buddy who got me into corrections died four months ago on the job, killed by the same kids who almost killed me. Hell, two of those kids died in a yard fight last month. I couldn’t save
any
of them.”

Moisture pooled in his silver-flecked eyes. I wanted to reach out and comfort him; his body language shouted at me to stay away. My trip to New York had scared him on some level I didn’t understand, because I didn’t know this part of him. But emotional barricades were finally coming down—hopefully for good—and I had to let them crumble.

“Do you know what I was doing the night we repowered, Teresa?”

I had no idea what he’d been doing and couldn’t recall ever entertaining the question. He’d mentioned the painful repowering in passing, but not his whereabouts immediately before. Poised on the edge of telling me, I almost told him not to. The tone of his voice as he barked his rhetorical question said I wasn’t going to like the answer.

He swallowed hard and continued. “I’d given up my apartment, given away my possessions. I was down to the things in my suitcase, and I was sitting in my car with a handgun I’d bought off a street dealer the night before. It had one bullet.”

My stomach soured. I definitely didn’t want to hear this—barely could over the dull roar in my ears. My heart slammed against my ribs. Hot tears stung my eyes.

“I was done,” he said in a hollow voice. “Sick of being hurt, sick of burying people, sick of never feeling complete. Just … finished. The last straw had come the week before. I was helping my landlord clean out an abandoned apartment and found a pile of old newspapers. One of them had your mug shot right on the front page, below the fold. I hadn’t seen you in half a lifetime, but I knew you.”

Heat flamed in my cheeks. “You knew I’d been in jail.”

He nodded. “You saved me that day in Central Park, when you Tranced me. I was so scared and you made me brave. Then we lost our powers, and I let everyone be separated. We all suffered, and to find out you’d been so close for so long … that I could have done something to help you … I failed you like I failed everyone else.”

Emotion clogged my throat. I couldn’t seem to breathe.

He swallowed hard, eyes focused on the floor. “So I was sitting there with the hammer back and ready to do it, debating between my mouth or temple. I looked up and dared God to stop me. Told Him I needed to know I still had something out there to live for, because I was sick of death and misery. I asked for the chance to protect and save one person, just one life to prove it wasn’t all pointless.

“Know what happened next?”

I shook my head, not trusting my voice, my heart aching for him.

“Nothing. So I put the gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger.”

My insides quaked as the weight of the admission sank in. His pain had driven him to fire with intent. He’d wanted to die. The tears spilled over, blazing down my cheeks.

Gage snorted, the choked sound almost a sob. “It didn’t fire. The goddamn gun jammed. I was so furious I decided to try St. John’s Bridge, instead. Halfway there is when it happened. I didn’t really understand that my powers were coming back until the streetlights blinded me and a horn deafened me.

“When I got it under control, I skipped the bridge and started driving. I chose south. Then my Vox beeped, and it felt like I was going the right way for once. I stopped at a motel outside of Bakersfield, and on my way to grab dinner at a truck stop diner, I heard voices. Then my Vox beeped again and there you were.” His voice softened with a hint of awe. “You, Teresa, of all the people it could have been. It made me so ashamed of what I’d done.”

Breaking to pieces in front of me, he finally lifted his head to meet my gaze. Twin tears tracked down his cheeks, into the collar of his shirt. “It sounds corny, I know, but you were my sign, Teresa. My one last save. I just meant to be your friend and protect you, and then I started feeling things….” He blanched, the words gone.

I didn’t know what to say, or how to process so much stark truth. All of the pain that had driven him to such a desperate place, to try and take his own life—no, not try. He’d meant to succeed; only dumb luck had saved him.

“Gage, you got what you asked for,” I said, throat clogged with something I couldn’t simply swallow away. “You did save me, just by being with me. If you hadn’t found me in Bakersfield, we each would have been alone when Specter attacked, just like the others. We’d probably both be dead, along with Renee and Ethan and Marco, and now Specter would be laughing through his victory.”

I took his hand and squeezed. I hated being his reason for doing anything, especially living. It was too much responsibility. He’d gotten his wish; it had to be enough. “You saved me, Gage. You fulfilled your end. You can stop trying to save me now and just be with me while we have time.”

His expression closed off for a moment, leaving no clues as to his thoughts. I knew that look too well.

“Stop shutting me out,” I said. “Not now, when you’re finally letting me in. Do I really have to tell you that everything you told me stays here? I’m not judging you.”

Surprise finally demolished the wall, and I saw a depth of emotion in his eyes I’d never seen before. Calm settled over
him. His tears had dried. He seemed to have reached a silent bargain with himself and his wrenching confession. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he said.

“And I’m sorry you were so worried, truly sorry, but I don’t regret going. Psystorm would have been freaked out by a whole squad of us showing up to retrieve him. He actually seems to respect me more for going alone. He’s on our side.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because of his son, Gage. We talked about a lot of things during the ride back, and one thing I trust is his love for Caleb. He’ll do anything to provide a good life for his son, including helping us. He has no standing loyalty to Specter or anyone else on the island.”

“What about the kid’s mom?”

“All he would say about her is that she’s ill. Figuring out who she is shouldn’t be too hard. Only twenty-one of the Banes were female, and Caleb is obviously of Asian descent.”