Infinityglass

  “Take over how?” He sounded as grave as I felt.

  “People. Possession.”

  He proceeded to say more curse words in fifteen seconds than I’d heard him say in the past five years. “What the hell happened?”

  “It was Hallie. I’ve never seen anything like it or read anything about it. Her face, her voice took on different characteristics. The rip … moved in.” I stopped walking and lowered my voice. “She relived a murder.”

  “You need to tell Liam.”

  “Not yet. Give me a couple of days. It could’ve been a fluke thing or an Infinityglass-specific thing, and I want to know for sure.” I started back down the stairs. “Let’s see if it happens to anyone else first.”

  “I defer to your wisdom,” Michael said. “But you know I’m a phone call away.”

  “Ditto, brother.”

  I hung up and pushed open the door to the gym to find Poe climbing off the treadmill. There was a towel hanging over the security camera.

  “How’s the rehab going?” I asked.

  “Slow.” He pulled another towel off the stand beside the water dispenser and wiped his face. “Want to spot me?”

  I laughed. “You want to pop your stitches?”

  “I’ll spot you instead.” Poe pointed to the weight stack as I got into position on the bench. “Four hundred?”

  “Three.” Silently, I hoped that much wouldn’t kill me.

  He loaded three forty-five pound weights on each side. Three-fifteen, including the bar. I was going to end up with a hernia.

  “When I choke to death on this bar and you have to spot me, how is that going to help your liver heal?” I asked.

  “It won’t. So don’t drop the weight.”

  The first five were easy. The next four were brutal. Poe almost had to spot me on ten, and by the time I lowered the bar, my arms felt like stretched-out gummy bears.

  “I need to talk to you about Hallie,” I said, sitting up.

  “Upstairs. I need a fix.” He grabbed the towel covering the camera as he teleported out, and I took the normal route to the apartment, using the elevator this time. I found him in the kitchen digging a giant box of Popsicles out of the freezer. “You want?”

  “I’m good,” I said, leaning back against the counter as he took out four and put the rest away. “Hungry?”

  “I’m trying to come off the pain meds. I feed my sugar addiction instead. What’s up?”

  Now that I’d broached the subject, I hesitated. I knew there had been something between Hallie and him once, but I also sensed that the friendship that replaced it was stronger.

  “It was a simple question.” Poe pulled a Popsicle from a wrapper. Grape. He bit off the end. “Don’t blow a brain gasket.”

  “I’m just standing here trying to figure out if I can trust you.”

  “I know where you sleep. If I wanted to cause you harm, it would already be a reality, yeah?”

  “Glad you’ve thought about it.”

  Poe smiled.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “Something happened last night. I blew my cover. She figured out I work for the Hourglass, or that I used to, anyway.”

  “She’s too smart for her own good.” He slid the wrapper off another Popsicle. “Then what?”

  I told him how the ripple had absorbed Hallie and taken her over, the way the veil seemed to zip closed behind her.

  “Damn it.” Poe slammed his fist down onto the counter. “I should never have agreed not to call her, but I wanted to keep her out of it. Was she okay?”

  “Yeah, she was. Shaken, but okay.”

  “I need to help.” The pleading in his eyes was honest.

  “I don’t know.…”

  “Please. I have to do something. I’ve watched every episode of Doctor Who. Ever. Exhausted every series of everything I can find online. My next stop is reality TV, and, Dune, I just can’t go there. We’re talking about Hallie. She’s my best friend.”

  “I’ve spent so much time with the Skroll that I don’t know what’s up or down anymore.” I put one arm behind my head and stretched out my biceps, then moved to my triceps, watching him. And then I relented. “Ever since that night, I’ve thought about giving you a crack at it.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As serious as a heart attack.”

  “I’ve only read the Skroll once. I’d be happy to get another shot at it, especially the newly translated stuff.”

  “I thought you couldn’t get it open,” I said.

  “Sure I could. I just didn’t tell Teague. At least I was coherent enough to know not to trust her with that.”

  “Most of the information I have is inherited from my dad. Stuff he gathered for years.”

  “It’s different from what’s on the Skroll?”

  “Parts of it, yes.”

  “Well,” Poe drawled, “are you going to tell me what you want me to look for, or are you going to make me guess?”

  “How about we start with an explanation for the possession?”

  “I can do that.” He ate the last bit of Popsicle and returned the others to the freezer. “I guess that means you’re trusting me, then?”

  “Two sets of eyes are better than one,” I said. Truthfully, four. I was going to put Liam and Michael on it, too. I’d uploaded the Skroll to a highly protected server. The same kind the CIA used.

  “Lay it on me,” Poe said, throwing the wooden stick in the trash. “Everything.”

  Chapter 8

  Dune

  When I got ready to leave for work that afternoon, Poe had his computer and a ton of index cards out, already searching through the information I’d given him.

  He wore a huge pair of wayfarer glasses, and was so Anthony Head, circa Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that it was all I could do not to call him Giles.

  “Anything you want me to look for besides the possession connection?”

  “Possession connection. That sounds like a really screwed-up PBS kids’ show.” I grabbed my own computer. “Just that I’m still looking for the thing that kicked Hallie into overdrive. Whatever the genetic stressor was. Maybe keep an eye out for that, too.”

  He nodded and dropped his eyes to focus on his computer. “Will do.”

  I took the trolley down Saint Charles, even though the walk would’ve helped clear my head. Hallie had said she wanted me to come back today, but if she’d changed her mind, told her father that I’d blown my cover … I’d be screwed. Possibly dead. I had a brief vision of Paul Girard and his gun holster.

  I jumped off at my trolley stop and approached the side entrance to the Girard house slowly. No attempts were made on my life, so I checked in with Carl, the head of security, made my way to Hallie’s room, and knocked on her door. It flew open.

  “You. You’re here.”

  “I’m here.” I scanned the hallway to the right and left of her bedroom door. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “No. I just …”

  “You thought I wouldn’t come back.”

  “It crossed my mind. I wondered if what happened last night freaked you out enough to make you cut and run. If the nice-guy stuff was for real.”

  “It is, just like my fear that your dad would be waiting for me at the front door.” I grinned. “Did you reach a verdict on my nice-guy status?”

  “Still out.” She tilted her head and paused. “Hung jury.”

  I nodded. “If the jury reaches a decision, I’ll be out here. Doing something bodyguardlike.”

  The left corner of her mouth tipped up a fraction of an inch. “But you aren’t a fake bodyguard anymore.”

  “I am to your dad.”

  She grinned.

  “You told him? And I’m still breathing?”

  “I can be very persuasive.”

  I had no doubt about that. “Okay. I guess I’ll just … stand here until you make a decision.”

  “I was thinking.” She opened her door wider. “Maybe we need to spend some quality time tog
ether.”

  I started backing up. “I’m not coming in your room. No need to give your dad more reasons to come after me with a shotgun, even if we are just talking about science.”

  “He leans more toward the smaller firearms. Besides, I have an idea.”

  “Which is?” I asked cautiously.

  “If we’re going to get to know each other—well, what each of us knows about this situation, anyway—how about we play a game of either-or?”

  It seemed innocent, but I knew Hallie had a penchant for being tricky, and I liked being alive. “What are the terms of this particular game? Are we talking personal or professional questions?”

  “Both.” She gave me the once-over. “I’d like to know who I’m getting in bed with. So to speak.”

  God, the girl was wicked. I was probably in trouble. “Fine. Books or movies?”

  She raised one eyebrow, surprised that I was willing to dive right in. “Movies.”

  “Downloads or CDs?”

  “Records,” she answered in a drawn-out voice, like I was an imbecile.

  I continued. “Vanilla or chocolate?”

  “Strawberry.” She turned it around. “What about you?”

  “Butter pecan.”

  “Boxers or briefs?” This came with a grin.

  “Neither.”

  I watched as her eyes wandered in the direction of my waistband. When she knew she’d been busted, her cheeks got a little pink.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Beach or mountains?”

  I blanched. She caught it.

  “You have an immediate comeback for your underwear choice, but beach or mountains stumps you.” She tapped her lips with one finger and studied me. “Why is it a hard question?”

  “Mountains.”

  “No.” She leaned against her door frame. “I asked you why that’s hard to answer.”

  “I don’t think you know how to play either-or. There aren’t supposed to be explanations, just one-word answers.”

  “My house,” she said. “My rules. Tell me why you’re avoiding.”

  I straightened my shoulders. “It has to do with my special brand of magical powers.”

  “Which are?” When I didn’t respond, she said, “You don’t have to tell me, Dune. But I’d like to know.”

  I sensed we’d reached the tipping point of our tentative alliance.

  I answered because she gave me the opportunity not to, and because her authenticity peeked out from behind her curiosity. “Tides. I can control the tides. Water in its many forms. We think that I can affect moon phases as well, but it’s not the kind of thing you can test.”

  “That’s … wow. That’s pretty serious.”

  “It’s okay on a small scale, because I understand how to control it, even though I rarely let other people see me do it. Tiny things like plumbing leaks or condensation, not a problem at all. Ponds, contained bodies of water that I can see end to end—wide open and easy to handle, as long as they’re people free. Streams, creeks—those are doable, but aren’t ideal. Lakes and rivers. Possible, but also possibly catastrophic. I avoid them altogether. And oceans … well. I haven’t been to the ocean since I was eleven.”

  “Why? Same offer stands. You don’t have to tell me.”

  Growing up in American Samoa had its advantages. For me, it was the Pacific Ocean. I used to race over the dunes to get to the water when I was a kid—hence my nickname. The moon’s gravitational force drew the tide, and the tide drew me, pulling me to the ocean over and over again.

  When I was eleven, I pulled back.

  “I was at the beach, on a picnic with my family. Understand, in Samoa, everyone is family. That’s just the way villages work.

  Warm sun, cool breeze, good food. We laughed a lot. Anytime we were all together, there was music.”

  Such a simple thing, my hands in the water. The rush that ran through my extremities, the way my pulse tuned itself to the crashing of the waves. The water became an extension of my fingers; when I waved them to the left, the fish swam that direction. When I moved them to the right, they followed.

  “I’d been able to manipulate the current ever since I was little. I always wanted to see fish up close. Not the tiny minnows that were always by the shoreline, but the big kind fishermen would bring back from excursions and hold up to have their pictures taken.” I knew most of those were eventually stuffed, and probably left to gather dust while hanging on a wall somewhere in Middle America. “I didn’t want to turn the fish into trophies. I just wanted to see them.”

  Hallie crossed her arms over her chest. “Any kid with an ability like that would.”

  “So, that day, I concentrated a little harder than usual, curling my fingers in toward my body.

  “The waves came at me in a rush, so big, filling my mouth, eyes, nose, throat. I remember the way the salt burned. I couldn’t breathe. Everything went black. When I woke up, my mom was on her knees in the sand, holding me. A trail of dead marine life stretched as far as I could see. Fish, with their scales drying up. Bloated jellyfish. A couple of dolphins, a shark. Giants, just … abandoned on the sand.”

  Hallie covered her mouth with her hands.

  “There were also people. Lifeless bodies, covered with beach towels. I’d created a tidal wave. Even the strongest swimmers hadn’t been able to fight it. Eleven members of my extended family died that day, one to represent each year of my life.” I took a deep breath. Then another. “One of them was my father.”

  She stepped out of her room and took my arm. “Sit.”

  We sat down with our backs against the wall, shoulders almost touching.

  “I haven’t told anyone that story since I first came to the Hourglass.” Liam first, and eventually, Nate. That had been over five years ago. I hadn’t given either one of them details, and I wasn’t sure why I had given them to Hallie now. “I know it was an accident, but sometimes the guilt can sneak up on me. My dad was a great guy. It was a rough loss for everyone.”

  “Tell me about him.” She slid her legs out and crossed them at the ankles.

  “He worked at Mauna Kea, at one of the big observatories. He was gone a lot. Fascinated by space and its relation to time. He knew about my ability, but never talked to me about it.”

  Instead, he wound the truth into fairy tales, as parents do when they believe reality is too frightening or too hard to comprehend. When we’d buried him, I knew the fairy tales he’d spent his life chasing were true. And over.

  “My mom brought me mainland, and then I met Liam. Samoans have a word, fa’a Samoa. It means the ‘Samoan way.’

  Families extend beyond blood. I have that with the Hourglass.”

  Hallie took my hand in hers, and held it without saying a word. The line between business and friendship blurred. The neck of my T-shirt felt too tight.

  “So that’s why I’d choose the mountains.” I cleared my throat. “Because I don’t think I can ever go back to the ocean.”

  Hallie

  Controlling tides. Moon phases. The loss of so many people who were important to him. He’d bared his soul, and the way his big shoulders curled over his chest made my heart hurt. I had to take his hand.

  And I had to tell him my secret.

  “It’s nothing like losing a parent, but my best friend died a few years ago.” The words came out before I could think about them, but they felt right instead of impulsive. “I don’t usually talk about that, either.”

  He waited, holding my hand, and keeping those sweet eyes focused on my face.

  “His dad was a bodyguard for us. I was still in public school at that point, but Dad had started to rein in nonschool activities. He had a new sense of paranoia that started spilling over into my life. His name was Benny. We’d been arguing, about something stupid like jelly bean flavors, or manga versus anime.”

  “That’s what friends do,” Dune said.

  Fifteen and sneaky, thinking we could hide in the crowd lining Jackson Square, pretending my fat
her’s reputation didn’t walk in front of me, or that his square jaw didn’t hang all ridiculous on my baby-fat face. Pretending I wasn’t a shiny red target with a wide-open bull’s-eye.

  The spires of Saint Louis Cathedral had stretched up toward the clouds like those on Cinderella’s castle. No magic below, though, just busy crowds. Tourists held chicory coffee from Café du Monde in to-go cups; heat met crisp winter air and formed steam. At least there’d been no heat to exacerbate the leftover smells from a Saturday night in the Quarter. I’d tugged at the ends of my much-regretted pixie cut that were sticking out from underneath my skull cap. It had only made my ruler-straight body look more androgynous. Delayed puberty, my nemesis.

  “Benny and I met when he came to work with his dad one day. I told him his belly looked like Santa’s, he told me my lips were too big for my head, and I kicked him. We wrestled each other to the ground before the fight was broken up, but my father had seen me laugh. And Benny got to come back. Immediate besties.”

  Except for right before the accident, when he’d started doing things like offering up his jacket, letting me go first, opening doors. I thought maybe he was trying to make the move from five years of comfortable friendship into something unknown and scary.

  “The shots were so loud. I thought they were fireworks at first. I didn’t understand why anyone would be setting fireworks off in the middle of the day. But it was gunfire.”

  Bullets had peppered the wrought iron and the sidewalk, scattered the crowd like jacks. Screams would serve as background noise for every waking moment of my next two years. Benny’s blood would be the backdrop. His blue eyes were open and empty as I lay beside his wasted body, splattered by his blood. It was in that second, before reality and grief rolled in, I decided I’d spend the rest of my life living enough for both of us.

  I met Dune’s eyes. “He died right there on Jackson Square.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “Took a hit on my shoulder. I didn’t know a bodyguard was tailing us, but he tackled me to get me to the ground, and broke my left leg in three places.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Fifteen.” I shrugged. “That’s when I decided life was short—at least I’m pretty sure mine will be—and that there’s no point in living if you don’t go balls to the wall with it. Hard to do when you’re protected the way I am, but it doesn’t mean I’ll stop. I turn eighteen soon.”