The Dark One

ELEVEN

Michael watched Isabel sleep, hoping it was only sleep, hoping she hadn't slipped into unconsciousness. His arm was numb beneath her shoulders, and his right leg was cramping from his awkward position lying on the edge of the twin bed, but he didn't move. He wanted to stay as close to Isabel as he could get. Just listening to her breathe those horrible wheezing breaths. Knowing she was still with him.

She rolled her head toward him, sending pins and needles through his numb arm.

"You awake?" he asked softly.

"Barely," she answered. "I was having this dream… where I was being buried… in the sand. At first it… was fun, but all the little grains kept… coming down, and then I could… hardly breathe."

"I want to connect with you. I know I can't really heal you, but maybe I can make you feel a little better," Michael told her. He wished he could somehow pull her pain into his own body. It hurt more to see Izzy hurting than it would to actually experience the physical sensations himself.

"Okay," Isabel answered. Michael inched his arm out from under her, then moved the covers down a little and placed his hands on her chest, just below her throat.

"Your hands are… like Trevor's," she murmured. She paused to take a breath. "Or his are… like yours. I noticed that… when we danced."

Was she totally out of it now? Did she even know what she was saying?

"At the party… in the museum," she continued. "I thought… maybe Trevor and I… he's like you… but without the… feels-like-my-brother thing."

"Don't waste your breath talking about that," Michael told her. "Don't talk at all right now. Let me make the connection."

All he had to do was think the name Isabel, and a rush of images swept over him. Many of the images were almost as familiar to him as those from his own life because so much of his life had been spent with Isabel.

A glistening ship with shimmering sides that looked almost liquid. Max laughing. A sizzling rainbow of auras in a cave. Michael running his hands through his hair. A burned doll.

And he was in. Connected. His second heartbeat was pounding so quickly, it scared him.

Slowly Michael used his mind to examine her body-their body. The contrast between her internal organs and his own was so huge that Michael almost had to break the connection. If she can feel it, you can look at it, he told himself.

The texture of her lungs looked like old paper. As if they might disintegrate into dust at a single touch. He didn't want to risk even brushing them with his mind. A survey of her other organs showed Michael they were all in a similar condition. He carefully allowed the connection to slip, splitting them into separate beings again.

"Couldn't do anything?" Isabel asked.

Michael shook his head. As he looked down at her, he also saw the little girl Isabel, the little girl who'd adored him, who'd been so sure he could do anything.

What a laugh, he thought.

"Not your fault… stupid," Isabel said.

She'd always been able to know pretty much what he was thinking. Today he didn't think that was a good thing. What she had to deal with was enough. She didn't need all his fear and garbage dumped on her.

"Think you could… find Trevor?" Isabel asked. "Maybe he could help."

"He's with DuPris," Michael reminded her.

"I know," Isabel answered. Her chapped lips began to bleed again. "But I need… I need you to… find him."

Alex hesitated outside the door to his father's study, his heart fluttering nervously.

"No guts, no glory," he muttered, lifting his hand and knocking confidently. When his father called, "Come in," Alex straightened his spine and squared his shoulders, shooting for the posture his military-man dad preferred. Well, preferred was an understatement. More like demanded. Then he stepped inside.

"I thought you were at the movies," his father said, glancing up at Alex.

"I was, but something came up," Alex answered. "Something I need to talk to you about."

The Major looked surprised-or what passed for surprised, considering the way he kept his emotions locked down. Alex understood why. He and the old man weren't exactly known for their heart-to-heart talks. They'd basically had one-when Alex made it back from the aliens' home planet. They'd had this short but intense conversation about how Alex's dad had been trying to bring him back. That revelation had totally blown Alex away-and not just because his dad had revealed that he was a Project Clean Slate agent-but because he'd revealed the depth of his love for Alex.

"Go ahead," the Major said. He gestured at the chair in front of his desk. Alex settled in, trying to keep from nervously jerking his leg up and down. This room and this chair gave him a Pavlov's-dog reaction. In the past he'd only been in this location when he'd been getting reamed by his dad for doing something wrong.

"You remember Isabel Evans, right? She came to dinner that one time?" Alex asked, veering away from the most direct route to what he needed to say.

"Charming girl," the Major replied.

Alex couldn't help smiling, remembering how Isabel had impressed the hell out of his father and two of his brothers. They couldn't believe little Alex had hooked up with a girl like her.

"Yeah. Well, when you were, uh, looking for me, I know you found out the, um, truth about her." Alex decided to avoid speaking the alien word. Project Clean Slate people probably didn't call them that, anyway. Alex figured they had to have an acronym. The military had an acronym for everything.

"I've told you that everything regarding that subject is classified to the highest level," Alex's father said. He sat up straighter than any human being with a spine made of bone should be able to sit.

"I know. And I respect that," Alex said quickly. "But Isabel-she's going to die if I don't help find her." He met his father's gaze steadily. The Major was almost as big on direct eye contact as he was on good posture. "And to find her, I need the tracking device you used to hunt down DuPris."

"That device does not exist," his father answered.

Alex gripped the arms of his chair with both hands. "It doesn't exist in reality, or it doesn't exist technically-because it's so top secret?"

"There's no difference," the Major replied.

"You know what? That's bull," Alex said, his voice calm.

"I won't have you use that kind of language when speaking to me," his father snapped, leaning across his desk to get right in Alex's face.

"I apologize," Alex told him, refusing to back away. "It's just that I know-we both know-that this device that doesn't exist was used, by you, to try to save my life. I doubt that mission was authorized."

For the first time in his life, Alex won a battle of the eyes with his father. The Major looked away first.

"It's the only time I've ever stepped outside the chain of command," he admitted.

"And you did that because-" Alex hesitated. It was one thing to know the reason, another thing to say it. "Because you love me."

Another first. Alex had never directed the L word toward his father. The Manes men did not speak that way.

His father gave a brusque nod.

"And I love Isabel," Alex continued. He rushed on before his father could comment. "We're not even a couple anymore. It's not that. The two of us, we've gone through a lot together. More than I can possibly explain. I know her soul." He winced at how gooey that sounded. His father had zero appreciation for goo. "I trust her completely. I know she would do anything to cover my back. You know that, too. You know she risked her life to bring me back to Earth."

Alex leaned forward, holding his father's gaze.

"I can't let her die, Dad. She's part of my unit or my squad or whatever I should be calling it." He wished he'd paid a little more attention when his dad and brothers got into one of their military conversations. "I'm responsible for her."

Alex's father didn't answer for a long moment, and Alex wasn't sure if this was a good sign or a bad one. His father was impossible to read.

"Dad, she's really sick," he started again. "She's going through something called the-"

"I don't need to know the details," the Major interrupted. He stood up, pulled a key out of his pocket, and set it precisely in the middle of the desk. "You probably don't know that I have a safe behind the family portrait."

He strode around the desk, clapped Alex on the shoulder, then headed for the door. "Good night, son." Then he glanced back quickly. "Good luck."

Alex waited until he heard the door click closed, then he picked up the key. "Thanks, Dad," he said into the empty room, studying the key. "I'm going to need it."