PART EIGHT

Liz gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror for a long moment, brushing her hair vigorously. She didn’t look different at all, and somehow that fact surprised her tremendously. What had she thought, that she’d have giant black eyes and gray skin? That she’d be even shorter than she already was? She laughed wryly, setting her hairbrush on the marble countertop.

Maybe it was just that she felt so utterly transformed, that it seemed her change should be visible somehow. There’d been a gentle hum resonating through her body all day, and she’d felt so restless, she could hardly calm herself. All she could do was keep moving, and try to still her jittery hands from forming tight little fists by her sides.

She wondered if Max lived with this kind of frantic energy all the time—or if this were just a residual effect of his awakening her last night. Max was one of the calmest people she knew, so she doubted his body buzzed like this all the time. Maybe the answer was that she just needed to learn how to control her energy better, she thought. Since wasn’t that what Max had really released within her—more of her alien energy? She wasn’t even sure at all what he’d done, just what it had felt like, and how every nerve ending within her body had seemingly sprung to life.

Another thing she really wondered about were all the random smells that she’d been picking up all day. She’d first noticed that new side effect when she’d rolled over in bed during the night, and Max’s scent had nearly overpowered her. It had seemed to permeate their entire bedroom, as well as their sheets and pillows. Then, later when he’d left for school, and she’d wandered into the kitchen, it was like she could smell him everywhere, his scent just lingering in the air of their whole apartment.

But it was more than just being more aware of Max, because for the entire day her senses had been attacked by all kinds of aromas, from the lemony smell of her shampoo to the eggs she’d scrambled for breakfast. Was this typical for them? Did Max walk around feeling his senses utterly assaulted like this every day? She could only hope it was a temporary condition, because it was starting to make her feel slightly nauseous.

But maybe it isn’t temporary, a tiny voice countered. There might be a purpose to it, some reason why it’s a part of your alien side.

Well, she’d just have to ask Max, she reassured herself; in fact, she had a lot of questions for Max, and they’d hardly seen each other all day. He’d been in class, and she’d been busy working—which had left her a lot of time to simply think. And the questions had begun churning in her mind endlessly.

And her greatest question was why Max had laid his hand across her heart at precisely that moment during their lovemaking. Correction, she thought. She knew why he had—but how had he known to do it?

Liz slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing exposed skin. A silver handprint shimmered right over her heart—precisely where Max had placed his palm during their wild lovemaking the night before.

She had certainly felt something unleash within her at his touch, but she also knew that he’d accomplished much more than just that. Whether intentionally or not, Max had healed something within her. He had reached right into her spirit and eased the anxiety and restless confusion she felt about this part of herself—merely with the touch of his hand.

She traced her finger lightly across the imprint in wonder, her palm resting over the image of Max’s own. She shivered slightly at the contact, thinking how deeply he’d touched her so many times—but rarely as intensely as the two times he’d left this mark right on her body. It awed her that he had branded her this way, and just like seven years before, Liz marveled that someone so gentle wielded such power within his hands.

Only this time, Liz knew what she hadn’t seven years ago—that she shared Max’s gift, and one day, she would lay her hands on others to heal them. She stared down at her open palms for a moment.

So small, she thought. Too small…

It’s not your hands…it’s the energy within you, which is anything but small. Where had that voice come from? She shook her head, trying to clear it.

Slowly, Liz buttoned her blouse again, knowing that Marco would arrive any moment. He was coming over tonight to work with the two of them on developing their gift of intuition. Marco had explained to Max that it was his own primary gifting--one that he moved in quite well--and he seemed to think he could help the two of them tap into it more effectively. She laughed softly, because in her case just knowing how to utilize it at all would be a good start.

Max had tentatively asked her this morning if she might be open to experimenting with her powers a bit, and she’d sensed he was working to restrain his enthusiasm about the idea. And when she’d said she’d like to give it a try, he’d literally beamed. She only hoped she wouldn’t disappoint him, because she had so many doubts about her ability to open that aspect of herself.

She sighed heavily, opening the bathroom door, and thought that at least Marco might be able to help Max, even if she proved a poor subject. But even as she thought it, something within her thrilled a bit at the idea of at least trying to use her powers.

And she’d never thought it might actually excite her, yet it did now, tremendously…even as it frightened her in some unnamable way.

****

Liz and Max sat on their living room floor facing one another, their knees lightly touching. Marco knelt beside them both, his large hands resting on their shoulders.

"Close your eyes and take deep breaths," he coached in his sure voice. "It will begin with your establishing a connection between the two of you."

Liz glanced at Max, who smiled at her almost a bit shyly. She knew exactly what he was thinking at that moment, because it was her own thought—did Marco have any idea how powerful their connection could be at times? And after last night, they’d certainly have to be careful. Max continued smiling at her, his eyes dancing a bit.

"Okay," Max answered, and Liz felt him open their bond, as heat began welling within her in response. Quickly, she connected with him, without any of their usual seductive dancing. This was all about accomplishing something with their powers.

Hey, sweetheart, Max said softly, the minute their connection opened.

Don’t be scared, he soothed her.

Yes, you are…I can feel it. Don’t be. I’m right here, he promised.

I love you, he whispered softly.

Their bonding was interrupted by the sound of Marco clearing his throat with a rumbling cough. Liz glanced sideways at him, and was surprised to find him staring at her strangely, his mouth slightly open. She sensed that he knew they’d been communicating silently between themselves. But she could also tell he was studying them, trying to decipher something about how their relationship worked.

"Are you connected?" he asked, raising his dark brows in amazement.

Liz nodded vigorously. "Yeah, we’re ready, Marco."

"You can do that?" Marco questioned, his voice full of wonder. "Without even touching?"

"Well, yeah. Can’t everybody?" She asked in surprise, but then quickly rushed to elaborate. "I mean can’t all… bonded aliens… do that?" Liz stammered, and felt her face flush very deeply, as she realized that Marco’s questions were making her feel a bit self-conscience and confused.

"No, Liz, everybody can’t do that." Marco answered with a faint smile, shaking his head. "Most need to touch, or make a more determined physical connection."

"Really?" Max asked, and now he was the one who appeared genuinely surprised. His eyes darted quickly to Liz’s. "We…can be quite a distance away from one another, Marco. Does that mean something?"

"Yes, it does." Marco nodded his head slowly. "It means that this is part of how your intuition will combine. That it’s part of the gift you share, and how it…intertwines between the two of you…obviously quite powerfully."

"That’s just really incredible," Liz whispered, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"As hybrids we can make a connection, but the gift of intuition enhances that quite a bit," Marco explained.

"So…because we both have that gift, as opposed to say, if one of us didn’t…it makes our connection…" Liz’s voice literally disappeared, and all she could do was swallow hard. She felt like she was allowing Marco into their bedroom, even though they were only talking about their bond. But it reminded her of the way she and Max so often made love, and she was blushing terribly.

"Explosive," Max offered.

"Precisely." Marco finished, and Liz realized he seemed oblivious to the deeper implications they’d been skirting around. She sighed faintly in relief.

"So shall we begin?" Marco asked, his black eyes darting between them.

They both nodded, and Max covered her hands gently with his own. She realized that she’d been wringing her hands slightly for the past few moments, and now he stilled them beneath his. He hadn’t missed her jittery gestures.

"I’m going to start you on a kind of exercise," Marco began, placing his hands lightly on both their shoulders.

"Okay," Liz answered, her heartbeat quickening, as she felt a warmth begin to pervade her shoulder right where Marco was touching it. Max tightened his grip on her hand, and she knew he’d felt it, too. Was Marco releasing some of his power to them?

"I want the two of you to open your minds…clear them first, okay?" He began. "Remember, just keep taking deep breaths. Close your eyes…allow your connection to build."

Liz closed her eyes and felt Max’s warmth surround her, envelop her. She wondered if Marco had any idea what their bond was really like, because if they just sat here like this, drinking one another in, their energy would begin to quickly escalate.

Especially with the particular cycle they were in.

Deep breaths, baby, Max coached softly.

But the idea is to clear your mind, he laughed gently.

You’re the one who keeps talking, she argued.

Quiet, he commanded playfully.

Liz forced herself to breathe deeply, and to keep her bond with Max at only a mild simmer, as opposed to a roaring blaze. She felt Marco’s hand slip from her shoulder, to her upper back, and more heat spun through her at his sure touch.

"Now, I want you to try reaching for an impression. I have something in my backpack, and neither of you know what it is. Use your intuition to figure it out."

"Great," Liz groaned, her eyes fluttering open. "That sounds like totally doable." Marco met her gaze intensely, and she noticed how absolutely black his eyes were, how unreadable. Yet somehow she felt safe with him, sensed his deep loyalty to them—and it gave her courage to try.

"You can do this, Liz," he urged her. "You’re going to be surprised how amazingly easy it will become."

She closed her eyes again, bowing her head quietly. Max gave her hand a tight little squeeze.

"One thing both of you should know," Marco continued. "Most people are either primarily word people, or picture people…occasionally both. So you’re pressing for either an image or words."

Liz dwelled on that piece of instruction, and wondered what category she might fall into. She drew in several breaths, and realized that she felt Max all around her. In fact, his scent rushed all over her body, but she willed herself not to focus on him, and instead trained her mind on Marco’s backpack.

It was black…she could see it in her mind.

Metal. She saw some kind of metallic object, but it was hazy. Murky, all murky…blackness. Something warm and fuzzy. A sweater, soft and large made of gray wool, a thread snagged loose…a label identifying it as being from The Gap…no, that wasn’t what he wanted…her mind kept sifting, riffling through his pack.

Wait, she thought. Why wouldn’t that be what he wanted? Because it was so ordinary?

"Sweater," she cried, her eyes flying wide open. "Gray with a little thread snagged on the sleeve. From The Gap."

Max’s eyes widened, and he spoke in quick excitement. "I heard the word sweater, right before you said that!"

Their eyes flew to Marco, who stood and walked toward his backpack. He tossed it on the floor, as he dropped heavily beside them again. He was smiling his quirky, lopsided grin, his single dimple suddenly very apparent.

"Yeah, Liz, I noticed how totally impossible that was for you," he teased, unzipping his pack, and removed a rumpled, well-worn gray sweater.

She reached right to the sleeve, and fingered the thread she’d seen in her vision.

"Wow!" She exclaimed. "Wow…wow!" She nearly squealed in excitement.

Max leaned forward and kissed her warmly on the mouth. "I’m so proud of you."

"Neil Young," she offered, casting a playful glance at Marco.

Marco just shook his head softly in disbelief, and retrieved Neil Young’s After the Gold Rush.

"Max?" Marco questioned. "You get anything else?"

Max thought a moment, chewing on his lip, then slowly opened his mouth to speak. "Well, I’m not sure what it would mean, but I did hear the word… blood."

Liz felt her heart skip a beat, until Marco smiled again and retrieved Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks from his backpack.

"Not as ominous as it might sound," he explained, tossing Max the CD. "And there’s actually an important lesson in that."

"What do you mean?" Max asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Only that our visions can sometimes be misleading," he warned. "Especially if they’re not interpreted correctly, or are incomplete. You must always press as deeply as possible within your gift."

"We have to be cautious," Liz said. "That’s what you’re saying."

"Intuition can mislead you terribly," Marco agreed, and Liz didn’t miss the ominous note in his rich voice. "But it can also be your salvation."

Max nodded thoughtfully, and Marco stood a moment, walking away from them. He stared out at the street below.

"Shall we try another exercise?" He asked, and it hit Liz how very focused and serious he was about this.

"Sure," Max answered. "We’re ready."

"Alright," Marco rubbed a hand through his thick dark hair, still staring down at the street below. "I’m going to think of a word and visualize it at the same time. Tell me what it is."

Liz felt her bond with Max intensify somewhat, as his energy began steadily growing within her, sweeping across her body. She drew another breath in sharply, closing her eyes, and tried to remain focused on their task. This seemed harder, to reach within Marco’s mind…seemed like something Tess could do. Yet, it was definitely driven by intuition, so surely she could do this. She focused on Marco, pictured his dark skin, his face…that strange smile. His leather jacket…

But it was one thing to mentally rummage through a backpack, and another to get inside a person. Suddenly, she realized it was why he’d separated himself from them physically—to make it more challenging, and something about that made her lunge for the image with forceful determination.

Motorcycle. She’d heard the word in her head, resounding clearly, but before she could open her mouth, she heard Max say it.

They opened their eyes, but Marco’s expression had changed. It was almost as if he’d visibly paled, as he gazed down at the two of them. He drew in several steadying breaths, and Liz noticed that his hands trembled softly.

"Marco, what’s wrong?" She asked, standing and moving toward him. But he brushed quickly past them, toward the bathroom.

"Feeling suddenly…a bit unwell," he answered, his voice thick. "I’ll be back."

With that, he closed himself quickly inside their bathroom.

***

Marco bent over their bathroom sink, splashing cold water over his face repeatedly. He couldn’t stop gasping, drawing heated breaths into his lungs.

He stared into the mirror at his wet face, trying to get his breathing under control. Oh, God, he thought, panicking. How had that happened?

For a full ten seconds it was like he’d dropped into the middle of Max and Liz’s connection, as if the floor had literally been yanked from underneath him, catapulting him right within their bond.

The emotions had been unbelievable and overpowering, and it was terrain where he’d never been meant to go, because it was far too intimate. He’d felt heat rush all through his body, as their mutual energy had spiraled within his body.

And he’d felt so much love that it had literally knocked the air from his lungs.

He’d never believed that two people could love one another like that—like what he’d just sensed between them--and it left him feeling horribly lonely. It was as if in the wake of intercepting their connection, his solitude had stood in stark relief.

He blotted his face with the towel, his body calming somewhat, recovering from the unexpected shock. He could never have anticipated the physical reaction of what he’d just experienced…he’d been hit with a huge blast of alien energy, so strong it had nearly driven him to his knees.

Max and Liz Evans were far more powerful than anyone suspected—especially Khivar—because the key lay in the way they joined. They could do it without even touching, from great distances, he remembered, and shook his head in disbelief because the power he’d felt tonight was unlike anything he’d ever even heard of. And being suspended right within their bond for those few moments had changed his understanding of their relationship permanently.

He stared at his eyes in the mirror, and couldn’t shake the eerie sensation that even more significantly, somehow this event had just altered his own relationship with the two of them…irrevocably.