PART EIGHTEEN

Marco and Riley sat together on the top step of the porch, listening for any sign of the Suburban--any sound at all along the winding drive, and the wait felt endless. Marco knew Riley would remain anxious until he actually saw Anna, despite how connected they’d been for the past two hours. But more than that, they needed to hear more details about Serena’s capture, whether they thought she might actually still be alive. Marco’s body was taut with tension, a headache now hammering painfully behind his eyes from all the emotions fighting within him.

It had been difficult for Anna to contact Riley at first, she’d been so drugged, even after she had connected, her thoughts had been jumbled, and he hadn’t been able to sort through them very well. But then the horrible truth had emerged—Serena had been wounded badly, and they’d had no choice but to leave her behind. The rest of the group was okay, but the woman who’d raised them both was in grave danger…perhaps already dead.

"Where’s Max?" Riley asked dully, shivering slightly beside him. Heavy clouds had darkened the sky, bringing a brisk wind with them. Marco glanced upward and thought that it might snow later in the morning.

"Inside," he answered, thrusting his hands deep within his coat pockets. "He wanted time alone… to plan a course of action."

Riley nodded in understanding, staring into the woods ahead of them. "I never thought we could lose her," he reflected quietly. "Never thought something like this could even happen."

Marco stared down at his black hiking boots silently, even as countless voices shouted within his mind. He closed his eyes a moment, pressing hard within his thoughts toward Serena because he had to know if she still lived. The headache and his anxiousness made it difficult to fix on anything at all, but he willed his intuition to guide him. He could only see blackness, though suddenly his skin felt very hot—yet even colder at the same time. It was a clue, something prescient, but he had no idea what it meant at all…and he pushed harder, beyond the blinding headache, reaching toward Serena.

And he heard one word so clearly, it was as if she had spoken it right inside him.

Help me. But why had he heard it in Antarian? Thank goodness he spoke the language at least passably.

"Riley," he whispered in a thick voice, his eyes flying open. "Serena’s alive."

"You’re sure?" Riley asked in hushed disbelief. "How do you know?"

"I heard her," Marco explained, rubbing his eyes. If only the blinding pain would abate some, he could probably sense more. "But her words were in Antarian, and I don’t understand why."

"I’m confused." Riley frowned slightly. "Did you make some kind of connection with her?"

Marco shook his head and stared at Riley a long, thoughtful moment. "No, just pressed for some kind of…indication about her. I couldn’t get more but…" Marco’s voice trailed off as an idea formed. "Riley, you can help me. We can press together, join our powers."

Riley nodded in immediate agreement, and they quickly clasped hands. They’d worked this way before at other times, bolstering their twin gifts of intuition.

Marco closed his eyes and felt heat radiate from Riley’s point of contact, felt it spiral up his forearm, and reached hard within his mind. This time he heard many words, strung quickly together, all in Antarian…frantic, overlapping.

He heard Riley gasp softly beside him, but didn’t open his eyes, kept pressing. He could see a small cell—probably the same one where Anna had been held. He noted the physical details, the small mattress on the floor, a puddle of stagnant water in the corner, dim lighting. He glanced all around within the image, feeling for Serena. She was there, because he sensed her--but he couldn’t see her at all, only heard Antarian words spinning in his head, and could hardly make sense of them at all.

And something was very off about Serena’s voice, the way it vibrated strangely within his head.

Shame…need help. No. No. More jumbled Antarian words…So alone. Shame. Help.

What was happening to her, and what was going on in her head that her thoughts were so chaotic and disordered?

Then his own voice crowded within his head, whispering the unthinkable. Mind rape. He could think of no other plausible reason her thoughts would be so thoroughly addled.

Marco cried out softly before he could stop himself, and realized he’d begun shaking. He felt Riley squeeze his hand tightly, and opened his eyes to find him staring in concern.

"What, Marco?" He questioned in a tight voice.

"Didn’t you hear?" Marco answered shakily.

"Nothing…I think I only bolstered your gift."

"Something’s very wrong with her mind, Rile." Marco shook his head in disbelief. "Her thoughts are a total mess."

Riley paled visibly and Marco knew he was thinking the same thing he had been--that Serena had been mind raped. And if that had happened, then their revolution had just been quashed because Serena knew everything. The location of the granolith, where their safe houses were…she knew it all. Well almost.

"We’ve got to talk to Max," Marco announced firmly. "He needs to know right now."

******

Max sat on the edge of his bed, Marco having just relayed his concerns about Serena’s state of mind. And he had to agree that it seemed likely she’d been mind raped by Nicholas—which meant they needed to clear out of here immediately. But they also needed to send a team after Serena, and it was useful to know she seemed to be in the same holding cell where they’d kept Anna.

And he was especially grateful that they hadn’t left their camp yet, even though he realized it was because they expected them to come after her.

Marco had been quietly pacing for a few moments, but he stopped abruptly, turning to face Max. It was only the two of them in the room, Liz had left as soon as Marco had asked to speak to him—he had been visibly shaken, and Liz had obviously sensed the conversation needed to be private.

"What are you thinking, Max?" Marco questioned intently. "How do we even proceed?"

Max blew out a heavy breath, and rubbed a hand across his face. "We have to get everybody out of here, be ready to move as soon as the others arrive. That’s our first order. After that, we split up…send a small team after Serena, and the others will go…"

Marco settled quickly beside him. "Max, I know what you’re thinking…that Nicholas might know about all our safe houses."

Max nodded firmly in reply, and then Marco continued. "There’s one Serena’s unaware of."

"What?" Max questioned in surprise. How could she not know?

"Intentionally for this very reason. She had me line it up months ago, when things started growing more tense. Knew there might be a reason for keeping a last holdout secret. Likewise, I don’t know where several of our locations are…she always limited the flow of information for this very reason…knew their capabilities within our minds."

"That’s…really good," Max answered, his thoughts spinning. "How far to the house?"

"About an hour from here…near Taos."

"Okay, then everybody clears out now except you and me. Once the others are here, we regroup. We’ll need Tess, but otherwise everyone else goes to the new safe house."

"It’s not a good idea for you to go after Serena, Max," Marco warned. "It’s far too risky. You know it."

"I’m who they want, and because of that I just may be the only one who can resolve this situation. Don’t forget that I know Nicholas pretty damn well by now."

"It’s quite likely he might simply execute you."

"Not if I play it right…not if Tess helps."

"If you go, I’m coming with you," Marco insisted. It was a command, not a question, and Max realized it wasn’t meant disrespectfully. Marco was asserting his role, insisting on protecting him if he went after Serena.

"Of course," he answered quietly. "I couldn’t risk it without you."

***

Marco drove down a lonely stretch of two-lane highway, Max beside him, headed toward the enemy camp. Tess was in the backseat just behind him, and he couldn’t help but watch her in the rearview mirror. In fact, his eyes were drawn to her repeatedly, despite his efforts to resist it. She looked so defeated, so wiped out, and it concerned him because they were heading right into battle again—and this one would be even more intense.

She’d hardly spoken since they’d quickly jumped in the Suburban, after he’d handed his scrawling handwritten map to Michael, who had scowled and asked how he was supposed to read his crazy handwriting. So Marco had stopped a moment, going over the directions to their new safe house carefully, until Michael had relaxed, and seemed sure he could navigate his way there.

Max shifted anxiously in the seat beside him, and Marco sensed that he wanted to hear Tess’s full report, but was giving her a little time to recover. Marco glanced at her again and found her staring at him in the mirror, and it almost seemed she was asking something of him. Such pain darkened her eyes, it knifed through him sharply, and then she quickly lowered her eyes, breaking their contact.

Max leaned an arm across the seatback. "Tess, can you tell us what happened?" He asked gently, and she hesitated a moment, staring at her hands.

"It was my fault," she confessed in a broken voice, and Marco glanced quickly at her in the mirror. Tears shimmered in her eyes, as she stared out the passenger window. "I couldn’t keep up the mind warp."

Max was quiet a moment, then spoke finally. "Tess, you know how powerful Nicholas is, you can’t blame yourself."

"They were gone for so long and…" she drew in a shuddering breath. "I wasn’t strong enough. I was hit with a blinding headache…just couldn’t keep it up."

A blinding headache. Just like he’d had for several hours now, right behind his eyes like white hot light. He wondered if it was a mere coincidence…and doubted that it could be.

"Tess, we can’t afford this. You’ve got to shake it off, and move on," Max advised firmly. "You’ve saved us more times than I can even count by using your gifts. If we’re looking to assign blame, maybe I shouldn’t have sent you without coming along. There are countless ways to re-think our actions now that they’re behind us, but we can’t afford it."

"Okay," she murmured, nodding solemnly, as she gazed out the window again.

"We’ve got to plan how to get it right this time," Max continued. "We’ve got a lot more information now that you’ve been inside, and we can win this battle. We’re going to get Serena out of there."

Marco smiled softly, hearing a new voice coming from Max, something that had birthed within him in the past few hours. Serena was gone and he’d had no choice but to step into his leadership role without reservation. Marco suddenly realized that at least something good had come from this terrible turn of events—Max had been fully inaugurated, and somehow he knew there’d be no going back after today.

***

"And so you’ve come," Nicholas announced, staring up into Max’s eyes. "Thought you might, but didn’t know you’d bring these two," Nicholas offered with an acknowledging toss of his head. "Marco."

"Nicholas," Marco ground out bitterly, leaning into his physical space a bit. Max had the sense that he was reinforcing his sheer physical advantage, because if Max loomed over Nicholas, then Marco simply towered.

"And certainly couldn’t imagine that you’d bring your second right into our camp," Nicholas sneered, staring hard at Tess. "Especially after her last failed coup," he chided, with a soft cluck of his tongue. "No, I’d say that battle went decisively in our favor. Though Serena’s been enjoying the accommodations quite well."

Max felt anger roil within him at Nicholas’s taunting words, and his worry for Serena escalate by quick degrees. "I want to see her now," he ordered forcefully.

Nicholas shrugged dismissively. "Certainly, your highness," he replied with a sarcastic bow of his head. "No problem at all…though I should tell you I think you’ll find it’s Surinah, not Serena."

"What do you mean?" Max demanded, grabbing Nicholas roughly by the arm.

"You’ll see," he promised with a light smile, as he turned to walk away. "Follow me."

Nicholas lead the way, and Max filed after him, Tess and Marco right behind. Then Nicholas turned, holding his hand up. "Only Max. You two wait here."

"No," Max asserted forcefully. "That’s not going to happen. They come too."

Nicholas thought a long moment, and Max noticed a row of soldiers staring down from an upper tier within the warehouse. He felt suddenly frightened, as the magnitude of where he was truly hit him—how easily they might all be murdered. He swallowed hard, and willed those thoughts out of his mind, remembered that he had things that Nicholas still wanted.

Unless he already knew about them from mind raping Serena, in which case there was no reason whatsoever he might not execute all three of them momentarily.

Nicholas stared at him thoughtfully, then finally replied. "They can come, but we enter Serena’s cell alone. The three of us will need to talk," he explained and Max wondered why he seemed to smirk a bit--that couldn’t be a good sign.

They continued walking down the long, cold corridor, their footsteps echoing hollowly on the cement floor of the warehouse. Finally, they reached a locked door, and Nicholas’s escort removed a set of keys from his pocket, then the lock hitched with a loud groan.

Nicholas turned back to face them all, staring at Marco. "You’re staying here," he commanded. Max saw Marco shift uncomfortably, his black eyes darting briefly to his own, as he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"No," Max ordered. "They both come with me."

Nicholas waved his hand, and the soldier locked the door again. Nicholas stared up at him for a long moment. "I’m making the rules right now, Max, not you. If you want to see her, it’s just you for now."

Max thought a long moment, and realized that if Nicholas really did want to kill him, he certainly didn’t need to separate him from Marco and Tess. They were surrounded by his people, who could easily have gunned them down at a moment’s notice.

"Okay," Max answered. "Take me in."

The door opened slowly, and the dimly lit room came into view, though he couldn’t yet glimpse Serena. He followed Nicholas inside, as the door was pulled shut loosely behind them.

But nothing in his life could have prepared him for what he saw as Nicholas stepped out of the way.

"I’m quite certain you’ve never met Surinah," Nicholas declared cheerily, sweeping his hand toward her. "Sorry to say that Serena’s quite gone."

Max drew in a sharp breath, as he saw her tiny, naked form huddled in the corner on top of the mattress. She whimpered softly at the sight of him, her large almond-shaped eyes blinking quickly as her hands rushed to try to cover herself. Max could hardly take it all in, because it was an insane image—Serena in her most natural form, totally helpless like this.

His first glimpse of a pure-bred alien…of the very thing that coursed in his own blood. In this one special person, he saw a snapshot of a whole race that wanted him as leader.

And this was their beloved Serena, the woman who had watched over them for years, had saved his life just two days before…and yet she was utterly foreign to him at this moment. Unrecognizable.

Max realized he had begun shaking softly and knew he was staring very unkindly, especially because Serena was so bare and exposed.

Max whipped to face Nicholas, fury raging in his heart. "Get her something to cover up with now," he roared, shoving Nicholas forcefully in the chest, and didn’t miss that he seemed to weaken a bit at his sudden outburst. Nicholas stared at him a moment, then opened the door slightly, ordering one of his men to bring a blanket.

When he turned back to face him, Max grabbed him by the shoulder. "What did you do to her?" He thundered. "Why is she in this form?"

"Oh, I didn’t do that at all," he explained innocently. "That was all Serena. I’m afraid she just couldn’t keep her human shape after she was shot."

Max heard a loud outburst from the corner where Serena sat curled into a tiny ball, and Max glanced quickly in her direction as the most foreign of words spilled forth from her small mouth. Ancient words…familiar ones. Her large eyes blinked rapidly again, and Max didn’t miss the pain in them, as thoroughly alien as they were. Pain was universal—and he’d know it in the eyes of any creature.

"Sorry, Max, but she’s had this small problem since shifting. She can’t seem to speak in English, just keeps babbling in Antarian. Shall I translate?"

Max stared at him, as intense rage began to bank within his chest. "Tell me what she said," he spit out.

"Oh, just that actually, she could have shifted back long ago if we hadn’t hit her with the disruptor after she was injured. My mistake…should have mentioned that detail."

"You are one cruel bastard," Max declared forcefully, shaking his head in disbelief.

The door to the cell opened, a soldier stepping inside with a soft blanket. He tossed it at Serena, and it landed just beyond her grasp. Max watched as she studied it on the floor, considered revealing herself briefly, so that she might cover up. He moved quickly in her direction, averting his eyes and bent down to hand it to her. She immediately spread it over herself, and when Max glanced at her again, saw relief in her huge black eyes. Gratitude.

And he also saw a deep purple stain form on the blanket, as it soaked up the blood from her injury. He turned back to face Nicholas, drawing in a calming breath. "I see her alone, then we meet."

"No."

"I have to heal her and you know it."

"You don’t need me to leave for that."

Max stared at Nicholas a long moment, deliberating. He desperately needed time alone with Serena, needed to heal her, but more than that, to learn the extent of Nicholas’s attack on her, because too many terrible possibilities were raging in his mind.

***

Marco shifted on his feet, as he and Tess waited just outside the doorway where they were holding Serena. He didn’t like that Max had entered alone, yet somehow he had sensed it was all right. Chalk it up to his intuition, or perhaps just his raw instincts, but he knew it was okay—otherwise he would have advised Max against it. But now he and Tess stood under the watchful gaze of two male soldiers, their weapons held loosely by their sides, yet certainly ready.

One of the skins kept eyeing Tess in an obvious manner, his gaze sweeping her form hungrily, and he didn’t like it one bit. It was a method of intimidation, meant to manipulate her felt disadvantage as a woman, and something about that truly angered him. She was strong—very strong, in fact, and the idea that they would try to use gender differences to intimidate her angered him.

Another man, an older, heavy-set skin, reached out to her, touching her face lightly—and when he did so, the hairs on the back of Marco’s neck stood on end. He swept the man’s wrist roughly within his hand, halting his action.

"Don’t even think about that," Marco growled, aware that something else was in play, that the moment had incited territorial emotions within him. Something primal.

The man stared up at him—he was certainly shorter than himself, but then again most were—then averted his eyes, and Marco knew he’d won that battle. He let the man’s hand fall away, and caught Tess watching him strangely…knew how obvious he’d been in his need to mark his boundaries. He met her unwavering gaze, and felt heat spark within his chest, despite the tense situation—perhaps because of it. Their eyes remained locked for a long moment, and he thought that he could lose himself in her blue depths, they were so very beautiful, shimmering like the surface of a clear mountain lake.

And maybe precisely because all their lives were on the line, he allowed himself to savor the energy passing between them in that instance…knew that for the moment, it was allowed.

****

Nicholas left the room, closing the door behind him, and Max was thankful that he’d acquiesced to his request to be alone with Serena. He stared at the closed door, then turned toward where she huddled on the mattress, covered by the thin blanket. He still couldn’t help feeling slightly dismayed by her alien form—couldn’t deny how absolutely shocking it was to him. Yet he also felt such intense compassion, as he watched her shiver in the corner, so very vulnerable. So unlike the Serena he’d come to know in the past few days.

He stepped cautiously toward her, not wanting to frighten her in any way, as he knelt at the foot of the bedding. The blanket was soaked with violet-colored blood now, stained in a frighteningly deep manner. She’d obviously been bleeding profusely for hours, and he wondered how she’d even managed to remain conscious at all. He looked at her, willing himself to ignore how shocking the very sight of her was, but she only averted her eyes.

"Serena," he called gently. "Look at me."

She blinked quickly, refusing to meet his intent gaze, and he couldn’t miss how very soulful her eyes were, how ancient. They were pure blackness, not like anything he’d ever glimpsed before.

"I’m going to heal this," he stated softly, gesturing toward the blood soaked blanket. She pulled it up around herself tightly, protectively. "May I?"

Finally, she met his stare, and he saw such fear in her large eyes. He knew in his heart that she trusted him, but also sensed that she was feeling so violated by the morning’s events, that trust came with great difficulty. She drew in quick breaths, just staring at him.

"Let me," he pleaded quietly, and then very slowly she nodded her head. He moved closer, easing the blanket back a bit, so he could get a good look at her wound, and couldn’t help shivering a bit at the sight. Her skin was rough, almost hide-like, yet the gash had torn into her lower abdomen with apparent ease. She was smeared with blood, all over her stomach and legs…all of it the most vibrant shade of purple. He forced himself to focus on the gaping injury, to ignore how low on her body it was…to overlook that he’d never seen skin like this before, so gray and rough.

He placed his palm over the damage, pressing his eyes shut, thinking about wholeness…Serena as he knew her. And Serena as she obviously was in her most natural form. Pain shot through him, knifing his abdomen in answer…and images flashed through his mind.

And he felt her flesh altering, healing…becoming solid beneath his palm, even as he heard a strange whimper escape her lips.

Then it was over. She was restored, and his eyes fluttered open again.

She huddled against the wall still, panting softly, but the expression in her eyes had changed, wasn’t nearly so frightened and vulnerable. Her small mouth worked soundlessly, as if trying to form words, and then finally the most simple of statements came forth.

"Thank…you," she managed, swallowing hard, and he couldn’t believe the way her voice sounded. It was like several rivers, flowing across rough rocks…many people speaking at once.

"You don’t need to thank me," he murmured softly. "I…we owe you too much."

She shook her head forcefully in denial, that much he could easily read as she worked her mouth again. "No," she forced out.

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, their eyes meeting, alien to human, and he couldn’t help thinking yet again that she represented some part of himself he’d never genuinely encountered. But one thought kept surfacing, and finally he acknowledged it.

"Serena, did they…get in your mind?" He hated having to ask at all, but they needed to know—it was simply too crucial.

She shook her head vigorously, placing her hands lightly on the sides of her bald head. Again, she seemed to wrestle with speech, and he couldn’t help wondering why English was coming with such difficulty for her—something to do with her change, no doubt, something he couldn’t understand.

"Confused," she managed to force out with difficulty, still clasping her head between her tiny gray hands.

He didn’t understand what she was implying. Confused. Her mind? What?

"What do you mean?" He prodded gently.

She hesitated a moment, her large eyes suddenly desperate, then attempted to speak again. "Too…" She flinched, blinking momentarily. "Crazy. Confused."

And then Max understood thoroughly, and he nodded. "You’re too disoriented," he translated for her. "Nicholas couldn’t make sense of what’s in your mind right now."

She nodded vigorously, and he sat back on his heel. At least something had worked out for her this morning…for all of them. He looked at the doorway, and began formulating a plan.

"I’ll get you out of here," he promised, glancing back at her again. "It won’t end like this, Serena."

He was surprised to see something like tears well in her large eyes, as she nodded.

No, he couldn’t possibly allow it to end like this for Serena. Not when they owed her so very much. And what Nicholas had done to her this morning had caused a white hot fire to grow within him, had charged him more than anything ever had.

He was ready for a fight, was only looking for an excuse to obliterate Nicholas at this point.

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he thought of Michael and heard his words.