Disciple: DreamWalkers, Book 2 (17 page)

“Oh, yes.” Karen blinked quickly, as if holding back tears. Since she’d been crying on and off for hours, Maggie didn’t know why she bothered. No wonder she kept asking for more water. “The Master didn’t have as much power a year ago. Back then I could…I could… I distracted Zeke so he wouldn’t notice.”

Zeke’s response was a snarl of frustration. “You didn’t fucking distract me.”

“But I did.” Karen lowered her lashes, and her cheeks flushed. The redness was startling on her ashen countenance. “Anytime there were more wraiths than expected, we made love.”

A heavy silence fell. Maggie, who’d never been a violent person, imagined how satisfying it would be to kick Karen in the head like she had that wraith. The expression on Zeke’s face was unreadable, though a deep frown line formed between his eyebrows.

He might not be imagining Karen’s crushed skull, but at least he didn’t seem to be imagining her loving embrace.

After a moment, Adi cleared her throat. “What’s done cannot be undone. We can only control the future. To do that, we require knowledge.”

“I understand. I won’t hide anything. I only did then because I couldn’t bear for Zeke to be ashamed of me like…” Karen coughed and blew her nose.

“Like?” Adi encouraged.

“Like I was a failure.” Karen drew a shaky breath. “I knew how hard he was trying to teach me to be an alucinator and how disappointed he’d be in me. I love…loved him so much and didn’t want to lose his respect. It’s my fault the Master caught me and made me do things.”

“Reckon I was a touch more disappointed by all the people you killed,” Zeke said. “If any of this hokum’s true, you were stupid not to have told me.”

Karen, predictably, started crying again. Adi sighed. “This is your chance to make amends, Karen. Will you waste it in regrets?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try harder to compose myself.” Karen wiped her eyes with her trembling fingers, not bothering with a tissue. “Ask your questions.”

Zeke lowered his chin, watching Karen like he might a cobra. “Here’s what I wanna know. Why’d he pick you? Why has nobody else met this guy?”

“You’re all strong. Skilled. Neonati with weak shields—he searches for us.”

Another condition that described Maggie, of course. Floods of wraiths, weak shields. What next? Female phase ones with bad hair and doctorates in cultural geography?

“The more he feeds on us, the more powerful he grows,” Karen continued. “He’s not far from being able to break anyone’s shields and turn them into a portal like I was in Harrisburg or the girl was yesterday.”

Considering Maggie was a decade older than Karen, the other woman’s repeated use of “the girl” was ridiculous. She recognized it for what it was—Karen’s attempt to diminish her—and refused to take umbrage.

“Yesterday was hardly comparable to Harrisburg,” Zeke said. “Besides, Maggie didn’t cause yesterday. You did.”

Adi and Karen exchanged a glance Maggie didn’t miss. Zeke’s jaw clenched, so he must have noticed it too. Adi wasn’t just sympathetic toward Karen. She seemed to be supportive of her over Zeke and Maggie.

“You were ready for it yesterday,” Karen said. “That’s why it wasn’t Harrisburg. But it will be so much worse if anyone falls into his hands now that he’s stronger. It’s a miracle you were able to free me from him. I can never thank you enough.”

“Just following orders,” Zeke said gruffly. When Karen reached for him yet again, hesitant and trembling, he didn’t shake her hand off his arm. It could have been because Adi glared at him and it could have been for other reasons.

While Maggie understood why anyone would want to touch Zeke—especially someone who shared a tangible bond with him—she wished Karen was on the other side of bulletproof glass during this interrogation. Right now, right this very minute, Karen and Zeke would be pulled toward each other. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Her hand on his arm would feel like the most secure point in the world.

Right now, right this very minute, did Karen and Zeke want more from each other?

The thought of it sickened her. Sleeping with Zeke had been a terrible idea. Now she couldn’t deny the fact she in love with him. Like poor, pitiful Karen. Was she so different? Zeke had succumbed to the tangible, but Maggie had succumbed to her heart.

According to Karen, she’d succumb to this Master next.

“It’s true that weak shielders are atypical,” Adi said, “Shields are one of our most innate skills. Most alucinators succeed at shielding after a few training sessions.”

Maggie’s cheeks burned, though no one looked directly at her. She’d been the object of scorn with her delay in shield development but hadn’t realized the delay was so rare. To have Karen claim it made Maggie the target of this hypothetical super wraith—to have Karen claim it made Maggie a threat equivalent to Karen—seemed awfully convenient.

But Karen’s self-flagellation was getting to Maggie too. The woman vacillated between despair, salty regret, and hysterical fear that Adi and Zeke would pitch her back into the sphere. Sometimes it seemed so over the top it had to be an act, meant to incriminate Maggie. Other times it seemed miserably authentic. Maggie had begun this day ninety-five percent certain she hadn’t caused yesterday’s invasion.

Now her confidence was down to seventy percent.

She’d felt the wraiths use her. Five wraiths, two carcasses, and the end of her culpability. Or was it? Who was to say her conduit had sealed when she’d woken? Zeke and Adi hadn’t been able to detect her sig, which meant someone had been hiding her. That same someone could have hidden malingering conduits.

Sixty percent confidence.

But they could have hidden anyone’s conduits—like Karen’s.

Eighty percent confidence.

Yet Maggie had created wraith carcasses. She not only had crappy shields, she didn’t even know what she was capable of. If she couldn’t gauge her capabilities, could she gauge her culpability?

Fifty percent confidence. Dammit.

“However,” Adi was saying, “the infrequency of weak shielders doesn’t explain everything. Can you tell us why the wraiths in Harrisburg didn’t pursue you, Karen? Is that a skill like healing?”

“They needed me,” Karen said. “I was the portal. I had to be kept alive. In fact, they hid me from you in the terra firma too.”

“Wraiths have the brainpower not to kill their creator?” Zeke scoffed. “Tell me another one.”

Karen drew her hands into her lap without Zeke having to shake her off his arm. Her thin fingers clenched in a wad of bony knuckles. “Large hordes aren’t like an initial showing. They’re hive-minded, and the Master controls the hive. I don’t know how else to explain it. Is this not something the Somnium has researched?”

“Why, no, Karen,” Zeke said sarcastically, “we haven’t manifested hundreds of wraiths to see if they act like bees.”

“What about the ones yesterday?” Karen asked. “Is that the largest mass since my possession?”

Maggie noted Karen’s use of the word “possession”. The woman accepted the blame and denied true culpability at the same time. She was either exceptionally manipulative, schizophrenic, traumatized, or all of the above.

“Yes, it was the largest,” Adi said. “We rarely deal with accidents on that scale.”

“Did you detect any patterns? Did they seek their creator or were they sidetracked? I know they didn’t seek me. We saw no signs of them banging on my room door.”

Again, no one looked at Maggie. She had no idea if the wraiths had hunted her, but manifestations had been coming after her since her first field mission. Surely Karen wasn’t trying to say Maggie had generated them all?

“What did they do yesterday?” Maggie asked when nobody answered Karen.

“They hit the morgue and ate human corpses,” Zeke said. “I’d call that getting sidetracked.”

Karen opened her mouth to respond, shut it, and finally said, “Oh, no. That’s awful.”

“Are you expressing sympathy for the deceased or does that mean something to you?” Adi asked.

“Remember how I said the Master was stronger now? This proves it. He’s teaching them. Evolving them. He’s giving them a purpose beyond death and destruction. I don’t know how else to convince you.” Karen buried her face in her hands and started sobbing. “We’re all going to die if I fail again, Adi. I don’t know what to do.”

Adi soothed the distraught woman. “You have to complete your training. Zeke will be with you in the sphere. Your Master, whoever he is, might be able to penetrate your shields but not Zeke’s. When you’re capable of full linkage after you matriculate, any of us can shield you—and I can learn the healing ritual. It will be invaluable to the entire Somnium. Think of all the lives you can save. All you have to do is cooperate.”

Karen cried harder. “Can’t teach it. Can’t go there. Please don’t make me. Don’t make me.”

She began to rock back and forth, sobbing pitifully.

Adi tried again. “Zeke is a talented L5. One of our strongest. Now that you aren’t hiding the truth from him, he’ll be able to protect you.”

“No, no, no. It’s not enough. I know his shields are… What if the Master makes me hurt him? What if they get him? I would die. I would die. They can’t have him.” Karen whipped her hand away from her face and stared toward the ceiling, as if that was the location of dreamspace. Her eyes blazed like blue neon in her thin face. “Do you hear me? You can’t have him!”

“Nobody’s getting me,” Zeke said uneasily.

Adi set her tablet computer on the table and regarded Karen kindly. “I’ll assign guards to monitor your training session in the sphere. The guards may not be able to link with you, but they’ll be able to link with Zeke. Scan the sphere. Prevent him from being vigil-trapped. We’ll make this work. If this Master tries to approach you, we stand ready.”

“Zeke has to be protected,” Karen insisted. “No one can harm him after what the Master—I mean, what I—already put him through.”

From the expression on Zeke’s face, Maggie could pretend he mostly wanted to be protected from Karen. But he might just want to escape all the crying. His brief concession this morning that emotions sometimes happened, like after lovemaking, was one of the tenderest moments she’d witnessed in him.

“You orated with me,” Adi coaxed Karen. “You’re advanced. We might matriculate you within minutes of entering the sphere.”

“I’ll say she’s advanced. She can vigil-trap L5s,” Zeke muttered.

Maggie thought that was pretty damn pertinent, but Adi and Karen ignored him. Adi continued speaking. “Once you’ve progressed, we’ll layer our shields over you. That will protect both you and Zeke.”

Karen’s tears ceased, and she stared at the vigil. “What about a curator? That might work. They’re special.”

Adi raised her eyebrows. “It wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest to petition one. I thought you understood.”

“Then I’ll need ten L5s.”

For the first time during the interrogation—when it wasn’t inspired by Zeke—Adi’s expression hardened. “That won’t be possible.”

“They don’t have to be vigils or sentries.” Karen gripped the edge of the table. “Just L5s. I won’t feel safe otherwise. I know you don’t believe me. I know you think I’m crazy. If you won’t take the threat of the Master seriously, I’ll have to take him seriously for all of us.”

“Adi doesn’t respond well to blackmail,” Zeke commented. “Trust me, I tried it when I found out she wanted me to cut Maggie loose and help you instead.”

The look Karen cast toward Maggie had no tears in it. No fear in it. No sorrow in it. If there was a supervillain here, Maggie knew who it was.

Or who she hoped it was. A psycho ex made more sense, and was more manageable, than a vicious, other-dimensional entity bent on unleashing a horde of wraiths to vanquish the terra firma.

“If you allow her into the sphere again, there will be blood,” Karen said slowly, as she shifted from sobbing victim to someone deliberate, confident, calculating. “And the regrets will no longer be mine.”

Zeke stood abruptly and towered over Karen. “Are you threatening Maggie?”

“I’m stating a fact. I have a shot at protecting us from the Master if you give me the L5s I’ve asked for. I know what to expect from that monster. She doesn’t. I daresay she doesn’t even remember manifesting all those wraiths.”

“Because she didn’t,” Zeke said. “I would have known.”

“You know nothing.” Karen’s eyes glittered. How could Zeke and Adi not see the complete about-face in Karen’s demeanor? She had Machiavelli smeared all over her. Even her linguistic structures were different. “You never even sensed she was there.”

Maggie couldn’t let that statement go unchallenged. “But you did. You saw me.”

Karen shook her head. “I saw wraiths flooding around us until it was black. I was very frightened.”

Since that was Maggie’s standard experience in the dreamsphere, she didn’t comment, but Adi nodded. “Yes, the wraith density was heightened beyond the levels we’ve come to expect at the coma station.”

“It was the biggest dreamsphere horde I’ve ever seen,” Karen agreed. “The Master never sent wraiths after me in such numbers. And they had forms, which speaks of a neonati’s inexperience and panic. I assumed he was trying to prevent you from rescuing me, but now I know. He was after the girl.”

“We only have your word on that,” Zeke said, though he didn’t try to deny that wraiths had inundated the sphere. “Your word ain’t worth shit.”

“We don’t know for certain what happened, but we cannot deny the facts.” Adi watched the byplay between Karen and Zeke as if were part of the interrogation.

“Did the girl tell you only a few of the wraiths were hers?” Karen didn’t rise but somehow dominated the room. A chill bled into the air. Had the vents kicked on high?

Zeke bristled with testosterone and laid a hand on the hilt of a dagger. “I believe Maggie. I trust her.”

Karen gazed at him with the same sudden chill as the air. “You trusted me once. You shouldn’t have.”

“Maggie’s not you.”

“She’s not your lover, you mean?”

Maggie froze, hoping guilt wouldn’t ooze through her pores. When she risked a glance at Zeke, his expression was too ferocious to reveal their secret.

“Of course she’s not,” Zeke said.