Intertwined. Gena Showalter
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noise, every touch against his skin too much for him to bear. And with the toxin even now traveling through him, the aftermath could be a thousand times worse.
Aden, Eve begin, a lecture clearly imminent.
“I’m sorry, Dan,” Aden said … just before stepping into Dan’s body.
He screamed at the agonizing pain of morphing from solid mass to inconsequential mist, which in turn caused Dan to scream. They fell to their knees, dizzy. Colors were blurring together, the green of the grass with the brown of the cows, the bright red of the tractor with the yellow of the wheat. He was panting, sweating, his stomach threatening to revolt.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Several minutes passed before he found a center of gravity. The pain ebbed, but only slightly.
Now you’ve gone and done it, Caleb snapped.
“He won’t remember this.” It was weird, knowing he was talking but hearing a different voice come out. “We’ll be fine.” He hoped.
Well, do what you want to do and let’s get the hell out of here, Julian said. God, I can’t believe you sometimes.
Elijah moaned. If anyone ever learns you’re capable of doing this …
“They won’t.” Again, he hoped. Aden forced Dan’s hand to dig into his pocket and remove his cell phone, as if the body were his own. The hand was shaking but he managed to scroll through the address book and find Tamera Killerman. Her number was on speed dial.
Gulping, nervous, Aden connected them.
“Hello?” his caseworker answered after three rings.
You can still walk away, honey. You don’t have to do this, don’t have to risk being found out.
“Hi, Ms. Killerman.” He experienced more of that dizziness, more of that churning in his stomach. Concentrate. “This is Ad—Dan Reeves.”
A pause. A giggle.
A giggle? From calm and collected Killerman? He’d known her over a year, yet she’d rarely even cracked a smile. Aden blinked in surprise.
“Ms. Killerman, is it?” There was a breathless quality to her voice that made Aden’s stomach curdle. “Yesterday you called me sweetheart.”
“I—uh …”
“So how are you, baby, and when will I get to see you again?”
Baby? Why would she—Realization slammed into him, and he scowled, nearly overcome with disappointment and anger. Dan was married. Dan should only ever be called “baby” by his wife. A wife Aden liked. Meg Reeves cooked wonderful meals, had a smile for everyone and had never scolded him. She even hummed while she cleaned her house.
Just then, Aden wanted inside Dan’s memories; he wanted to know why the man would betray such a wonderful woman. But mind reading seemed like the only ability he didn’t possess. Doesn’t matter. Finish what you started before you’re too sick. “Listen, Ms. Killerman. I want to enroll Haden Stone in the local high school. Crossroads High.”
“Haden?” Shock dripped from her now, and Aden imagined her pretty but cool face pinching in confusion. “The schizophrenic? Why?”
His teeth ground together in irritation. I’m not schizophrenic! “Interacting with the other students will be good for m—him. Besides, in the short amount of time he’s been here, he’s improved so much I’m not even sure why he’s here.” Too much?
“That’s great, but are you sure he’s ready? When we talked yesterday you said he was progressing slowly.”
He had, had he? “Yesterday I wasn’t talking about Aden. I was talking about Ozzie Harmon.” Take that, dreg. “Aden is totally ready.”
“Totally?” She laughed again. “Dan, are you all right? You sound a little … I don’t know, unlike yourself.”
He swayed, barely caught himself. “I’m fine. Just tired. Anyway, if you could set this into motion for me, I’d really appreciate it.” Surely that was something Dan would say. “Okay?”
“Okay. I guess. But do you still want Shannon Ross to attend Crossroads, as well?”
Shannon? Why Shannon? And why had no one been told? “Yes. Talk to you later,” he added before she could ask more questions. “Baby.”
Click.
For a long while, Aden stared down at the phone, struggling to breathe, his shaking intensified. Thankfully, Ms. Killerman never called back.
Later, when Dan was alone, he’d remember his chat with Aden yet think he’d made the phone call of his own volition. He’d wonder at his motives, but would not recall the way Aden had stepped inside him. They never did. Maybe because their minds couldn’t process it. Maybe because Aden took the memory with him.
Either way, he wondered if Dan would call Killerman back and tell her that he changed his mind. And would Killerman follow through on her promise to set things into motion?
Only time would tell.
Now all Aden had to do was wait. That, and heal, he thought, as he and Dan hunched over and vomited. Great. His battle with the poison had finally begun.
FOUR
ADEN SPENT THE NEXT SIX DAYS in and out of consciousness. Several times he wanted to give up, just end it all and float away from the scalding mass of pain that was his body. But he didn’t. He fought. Fought harder than he’d ever fought for anything, one thought driving him: the peace that came with Mary Ann.
A few times, he’d even hallucinated and thought he saw her hovering over him, that long dark hair tickling his chest. Or maybe Elijah’s ability was expanding and he’d had another non-death vision, catching glimpses of the future. Only, unlike in real life, her skin had been pale rather than sun kissed and as hot as a living flame. What’s more, her eyes had been bright blue rather than hazel.
There were a few explanations for the differences. Either his visions had never been of Mary Ann and he still had yet to truly meet his brunette or, sick as he’d been, he’d simply gotten the details wrong this time.
Both were entirely possible. He’d realized that while he had seen his brunette in the dark recesses of his mind too many times to count, he’d never really retained knowledge about her actual facial features.
The face he’d seen this week, well, he would not be forgetting.
“Sleep,” she’d said, fingertips gently coasting over his brow and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “When you heal, there is much for us to discuss.”
“Like?” he’d managed to work past the rawness of his throat.
“Like how you summoned my people. Like how I still feel the hum of you. Like how that hum stopped for a little bit of time. Like why you want us here. Like whether or not we’ll allow you to live. We will talk, though, when your blood smells less like the living dead.”
It was a conversation he couldn’t even begin to explain.
Unlike his encounters with Mary Ann, he hadn’t wanted to run from this apparition, nor had he wanted to hug her as he would a sister. He hadn’t experienced that painful gust of wind, either. He’d wanted to tangle his hands in her hair, draw her close, so close, and drink in the scent of her. Honeysuckle and rose. He’d wanted to kiss her the way they’d kissed in the visions.
Eventually, though, the fever faded, and the hallucinations ended. His sweating ebbed and his muscles stopped seizing, leaving him weak and hungry.
Finally, Aden lumbered from his bed, his only clothing a pair of boxers that were sweat-dried to his skin. He’d hidden the worst of his pain, keeping his moans contained inside his head. Anything to avoid hospitals and doctors,