Wired (17 page)

Or so he'd thought.

As it turned out, leaving his apartment hadn't had the desired effect of causing him to
stop
thinking about Gaia, and so, after much grappling with the logical side of his brain (which, logically enough, told him that Gaia would call him back once she got the message), he decided to try her again. This wasn't standard Jake Montone behavior. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had to call a girl more than once, and frankly, he wasn't pleased with this new development. That was the problem with going after challenging girls—they posed all of these, uh…
challenges
. He stared hard at a mountain of papayas that were advertised as on special before realizing that he was fixated and backing away.

Jeez, when had he become such a massive
loser?
Jake Montone
never
chased women or allowed women to give him the runaround. He was plumbing new depths of pathetic here.

It was Gaia, he realized. When he'd arrived at VHS, he could have had his pick of any girl he wanted: the hottest, the most popular, the nicest. And he had picked Gaia, despite the fact that she wasn't necessarily any one of the above, specifically. She was beautiful, sure, and she could wipe the mat with any guy twice her size, but
she wasn't even typical in any of the various superlatives of the high school scene. She was unique, and she didn't even give a shit. It had driven Jake crazy.

Now it was making him
insane
. He shook his head, willing himself away from a sign that read, Bananas—$.69/lb.
I'm losing it
, he thought.
Truly losing it
.

“Excuse you,” a voice off to his right said, decidedly irritated. He wasn't sure why the voice was talking to him or why it sounded so pissy, but when he turned to face it, he realized that the reason the voice was annoyed with him was because he was basically standing on top of the voice's owner. It was Tammie Deegan, brandishing a package of semi-fresh sushi like a weapon. “Oh God, sorry. I don't know where my head is,” he apologized.

“Jake,” Tammie cooed, her voice instantly softening. “No big. I was just, like, whoa—what's up?” She giggled.

He gestured toward her food. “Dinner?”

She frowned. “Yeah, the housekeeper made pasta, and I was like, hello, carbs much?”

Jake thought about pointing out the carbohydrate content of sushi rice or, for that matter, her negligible body fat percentage, then decided to leave well enough alone. “Yeah,” he agreed tonelessly.

Tammie picked up on the edge in his voice. “What's wrong?” she asked.

Jake sighed. “Nothing, really. I've just been trying to get in touch with Gaia all day” He tried to keep his voice
casual. The last thing he needed was for Tammie and her cronies to get involved with his relationship drama BS.

“Hmmm. I haven't seen her since school. I know.” She brightened. “Have you checked at the Rodkes'?”

Jake glared, trying to temper his flaring emotions. “I stopped by there earlier, but she wasn't around.” He hitched up his jeans, preparing to leave. He definitely wasn't interested in discussing the matter with Tammie much longer. “No big deal. I'm sure I'll talk to her later.”

“Yeah, well, when you see her, tell her to e-mail me,” Tammie said, surprising Jake entirely. “She seemed, uh, pretty stressed out in school today, and I sort of, like, felt bad for her.”

Now Jake was thoroughly bewildered. When had he stumbled into bizarro world? He was getting the runaround from his girlfriend, but the FOHs were concerned about her? Where was he, anyway?

And how the hell was he going to get out?

GAIA STRETCHED LUXURIOUSLY ACROSS the orange couch, kicking off her scuffed sneakers and putting her feet up. Despite its appearance, the couch
really was incredibly comfortable. All those years of being passed from dorm to dorm must have broken in the cushions. She felt like she could sleep here for hours. Skyler had suggested that they watch a DVD—
The Godfather
, further cementing her idea of him as the prototypical college male—but she didn't think she could keep her eyes open for a minute longer. There was only so much that the powers of AT Pacino could do. She was exhausted; there was no getting around it.

Skyler was right: turning off her cell phone had been a fantastic idea, as was the idea of hiding out uptown. Gaia was loose and relaxed in a way she didn't think she'd known before. She loved it. She wished she could stay here forever, avoiding the social anxieties of school, the quiet, self-contained suffocation of the boardinghouse, the constant threat of her uncle hovering overhead. Hiding out was a vast improvement over the typical crap she dealt with. Even if it was only a temporary fix—she'd take it.

She could hear Skyler sitting at his desk, typing away at his shiny laptop. He'd said he wanted to check his e-mail quickly, but now he was missing the beginning of the movie. Not that it mattered much. Gaia giggled. Worrying that Skyler was missing the beginning of the movie was silly. Considering that she herself was lying across the couch with her eyes closed.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her head. “Gaia, are you sleeping?” Skyler asked in a hushed voice. He ran his palm over her scalp, tickling her.

“Mmmm… not yet,” she responded, allowing herself to drift off. “Did you have lots of e-mail?”

“Some,” Skyler whispered. “You know, notes from classes and stuff.” He ran his fingers through her hair softly, soothingly. “You can sleep. Sleep as long as you want to.”

Memo

From:
S

To:
T

Re:
DNA

New hair sample will be obtained this evening, without fail and without detection. Prepare the labs: sample will be deposited tomorrow morning.

When
faced with a dauntinq problem, I find it most helpful to examine the facts objectively. So let's do that, shall we? Here are the facts, as I know them:

1. Gaia has allowed herself to endure genetic manipulation that has rendered her pervious to the sensation of fear. Having no prior experience with the emotion, she is hypersensitive to fear and therefore vulnerable both physically and mentally.

2. The same people who have rendered my niece fearful are looking to replicate her fear gene suppressant for their own purposes, in the form of anti-anxietal pharmacology.

3. A beta format of the drug has made its way to the street and is being appropriated by thugs for their own petty crimes and cheap thrills.

4. 4. Whoever is after Gaia—and therefore after the drug—is
probably connected to the Rodkes. Dr. Rodke is, it must be noted, a scientist of extreme repute and well versed in the areas of biochemistry and genetic composition.

The facts, such as they are, are not subtle. If Gaia weren't lost to me, I'd warn her. But she wants nothing more to do with me for now. Thus all I can do is bide my time, maintaining my surveillance and ensuring her safety. I may never win her trust back, but I can't risk losing her to the agents that threaten her safety. Because Gaia may be lost to me, but there's one more fact that I am fast coming to face:

Oliver is lost to me as well.

And Loki's got plans for the future.

here is a sneak peek of Fearless™ #34: FAKE

His eyes were like a pair of floodlights—bright, steady, mesmerizing.

LOKI STOOD BEFORE HIS 17TH-STORY window staring out at the night sky. The nearby buildings were cast in a palette of varying grays, like the set of a Japanese monster movie. Beyond them, the city's lights stretched out toward the horizon like tiny holes in the threadbare darkness.

She was out there somewhere. His Gaia. Possibly behind one of those pricks of light. Maybe even fighting for her life.

Normally he would not worry. She was strong, his girl. A modern Valkyrie. He had no doubt she could overpower or outmaneuver anything the city threw at her. But this was different Right now she was in the hands of someone he didn't trust—someone who also realized what invaluable gems she carried in her genetic code.

He turned his back to the window and snatched his alpha-numeric pager off the rim of his slacks. He held it up, letting the city lights bounce off the sleek black display screen. Still no messages. He set the pager down on a nearby console and pulled a 50-cent piece from his left pocket. Then he turned the coin over and over in his hands, feeling the metal grow warm in his grasp.

He could send out an alert, rally all of his operatives in the search for Gaia. But that would be rash. It was quite possible one of them had turned on him, passing along vital secrets to his competitor. Ever since his return, it had been difficult to know his men's loyalties. All those
weeks he lay useless in a hospital bed, they had been cut off and left to fend for themselves—body parts without a brain. He could almost understand it if one of them had latched on, leech-like, to another willing leader.

Patience, he thought, as he repocketed his coin and walked over to the teak and leather bar on the opposite side of the room. He would not send out an APB. Frustrating as it was, it would be far better to wait than risk informing his nemesis of his panicked state.

Plus, he had the boy.

It was not the same. Jake Montone was no operative. He had no subtlety. And he lacked the necessary ability to surgically sever all emotional ties and simply follow orders. The boy complicated things, but he did have one advantage that a whole team of trained professionals, including Loki himself, did not have: Gaia, for some reason, trusted the boy.

And he's proving easy to mold, Loki submitted generously, filling a highball glass halfway with ice cubes and drenching them in amber-colored scotch. He is green, but enthusiastic—eager to be Gaia's knight in shining armor.

As long as he was a willing servant and Gaia let him near her, he would continue to use the boy. Jake was not much of a secret weapon in a crisis such as this. But then, given the right circumstances, even a pawn can defeat a king.

THE SCREEN FADED TO BLACK. THE theme music swelled, filling the apartment with its mournful melody. Gaia lay across the butter-colored leather couch, her head in Skyler's lap. The turquoise and navy Columbia University blanket he had tossed over her was making her arm itch, but she didn't scratch. She could feel Skyler stretch his arms—first up, then out—but she remained immobile, her eyes transfixed to the words scrolling up the 36-inch television screen. She was motionless yet tense, like a spring-loaded trap, powerless to untangle her mind from the Godfather universe.

All those times she'd watched the movie, she'd never realized how disturbing it was. In fact, she never imagined a movie, especially one she'd seen before, could cause such seismic emotional activity. Chalk it up to another perk of the fear gene. As an added bonus, it makes movies much more exciting!

Her gut felt bunched and her heart seemed to be throbbing in pain instead of simply beating. The whole time she watched the film, an awful dread crept over. She felt vulnerable and exposed, as if a coldblooded gunman might jump out from behind the couch at any moment.

And knowing her life, it could happen.

Skyler placed his hand on her shoulder and shook it gently. “You awake?” he asked in a murmur.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied. She sat up slowly, hugging her knees to her chest.

“So, you want to watch something else?” Skyler asked, hitting the power button on the remote. The music stopped suddenly. Now all Gaia could hear was the thudding of her heartbeat and the nasal whine of her breathing.

She shook her head.

“Okay. So what do you want to do?”

What did she want to do?

The world of Mafiosos was gradually fading as her own reality took back color and form. Skyler's apartment was all foreign shadows. She could make out the familiar lump of her backpack, still streaked with mud from her tussle with the IV-heads. Her jacket lay across a nearby chair. It looked rumpled and neglected, a forlorn shape among all the blocky masculine furniture.

A siren sounded nearby, screeching louder and then dopplering away. Gaia drew her legs tighter against her chest. Her world wasn't any better than the movie one. In fact it was worse. Hers was darker, more chaotic. Existing in it made her feel worn out and defeated—bitch-slapped by reality. Right now all she wanted was to curl up and ignore everything forever.

“Gaia?” Skyler prompted.

“I think I need to go” she said, pushing off the couch and reaching down for her tennis shoes.

“What?” Skyler sat up straight, his thick brows scrolling together over his nose. “Wait a second. I thought you were staying over. What's wrong?”

Gaia felt a pang of guilt as she tied her shoes. Skyler had been so nice to take her in after the fight. It wasn't his fault she'd turned into a big, depressing lump. But she wouldn't be any fun if she stayed around. A college guy like Skyler had better things to do than babysit a scared high school girl. “I'm sorry. I just don't feel up for much,” she said, rising to her feet. “Where's my phone? Can I have it back?”

He smiled crookedly. “No.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she said weakly. “Now please. Give it here.”

“Uh-uh,” he settled back against the couch cushions and put his hands behind his head. “Look, you're all worked up again, I can tell. And the whole point of you coming over here tonight was to relax, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. No arguments. I'm not going to let you leave until I've accomplished my mission.”

Gaia stared at him. His eyes were like a pair of floodlights—bright, steady, mesmerizing. She could feel herself wilting beneath them, until finally, she sank back onto the couch beside him.