Interphase (39 page)

Shalaron felt more than saw the sword swing toward him. He leaned backwards, and the blade passed scant inches over his skin. Leaping away he heard a shout from the other end of the room. One guard was down, but Halathas was slowly being driven back by the remaining Siathrak. Shalaron launched a dart of ice at a guard's unprotected back, felling him.

The karta sword flashed into his peripheral vision. He ducked again and rolled to the side. Sarolkh sneered at him. "You truly are nothing without your vaunted powers."

A burning staff appeared in Shalaron's hand. He dodged Sarolkh's sweep and struck back with his own weapon. Faster than a lashing feranal, he shifted his attacks, quickly driving Sarolkh across the chamber. With a snarl, Sarolkh lunged at him. It was the move that Shalaron had been waiting for. Quickly dashing to the side, he drove the staff, tip first, into the side of the stone blade. A resounding crack echoed through the room, and the sword shattered.

Sarolkh cried out and dropped the hilt of his broken sword. Shalaron let the staff vanish, and stared doom into the captain's wild eyes.

"Let my actions be testament to virtue, that my people may know peace," the Sage whispered.

He raised his hands, palms inward, and Sarolkh started to burn. The white tabard blackened and charred, and the shrieks of the captain filled the chamber as Halathas limped toward them, his fight finished. A minute passed, and Shalaron turned his hands around. A freezing chill rippled through the room, and Sarolkh's jerking body began to slow. Beneath the flames, crystals of frost formed, and soon, the captain was a frozen statue, flames still flickering over his icy skin. Shalaron drew back his fist and smashed it into the burnt remains of Sarolkh's face. With a crack, his body shattered into a hundred pieces, which slowly melted and evaporated under the dancing fire.

Shalaron's eyes gazed stonily as the last piece of Sarolkh vanished. "No trace shall remain. The same fate awaits all those who threaten my people."

***

The park bench was cold, and a chilling breeze rolled through the trees overhead. Thomas listened to it whisper and moan, imagining that he could hear sorrowful voices crying out for respite. The wind could find no more solace than he, it seemed.

The events of the Quicksilver game, the confrontation with Clyde that morning, each memory weighed on Thomas like burning coals. As the cold deepened in the air around him, he found himself wishing he could draw it inside, to drown out the smoldering grief and the pain.

With heavy clouds obscuring all traces of the setting sun, the world took on a tinge of blue as the light faded. It would be night soon. Thomas rose from his seat and began walking home.

Jessica had liked this park. It was a short distance from the apartment building, quiet, with a small pond in the center. The two of them had come here frequently. The last time, it had been near sunset, and the final beams of daylight had caught her hair, turning it into a halo of gold.

Thomas's stomach clenched. His eyes stung, but he clamped down on his tears. Jessica was gone. She was lost to him. What good would come from reliving those memories?

He entered the apartment building and walked to the elevator. He punched at a floor number, then leaned back in the corner and tried very hard not to think of anything at all. He dreaded reaching his own apartment. Sleep held only more nightmares for him.

When the doors opened, Thomas stepped into the hallway and stared in surprise. It was not the hallway he had expected to see. The numbers were all wrong, and the layout was similar to…

It was Jessica's floor. Her family's apartment was here. Now everyone that had lived there was gone. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut against the fresh wave of anguish, and the surge of fierce heat that came after. Could he find no refuge anywhere? Was fate mocking him, casting everything in her shadow, and reminding him constantly of all that he had lost? He missed her so much.

The sound of laughter jarred him. A door opened at the far end of the hall. David stepped out, still laughing while speaking to someone. He reached back through the door,
smiling
.

Jessica had died because
David
had asked her for help. What right did he have to laugh? What right did he have to smile, or be happy?

This was David's fault. All of the pain, the grief, the loss… David had started it all. Thomas's world was broken, and David was
laughing
.

Thomas's feet began to move on their own; all he could feel or think about was the open wound in his heart. David's fault. Jessica was dead.
David's
fault!

David turned at the last moment. Thomas's fist shot out, and suddenly the mirth was gone. Now it was only pain, flowing out like a ceaseless river. Thomas struck again and again. His knuckles cracked against bone. David staggered back, tried to raise an arm against the next blow, but nothing could stop Thomas's fury. The pain was a living thing now, and it would not be silenced.

Thomas struck yet again. His fingers came away sore and sticky. David cried out, but the words sounded distant. There was no laughter in them now. No more laughter ever again.

The next blow met only air as David finally dodged to the side. His face was bleeding from several places, but his eyes were focused only on Thomas. He looked concerned.
Concerned
! Thomas struck at him again, and David dodged away. Thomas chased his prey around the hallway, but David was quick. He ducked and weaved but refused to strike back. Thomas's rage boiled over. "Fight me, you
coward
!"

Finally Thomas pinned David in the corner, his fist again meeting flesh. He pummeled his victim mercilessly. Shocks ran up his arms with every impact. His joints screamed with pain. Something yanked at his arm, and a voice yelled in his ear. "Thomas,
stop
!"

With a snarl Thomas lashed out. His fist connected and sent the obstruction careening into the opposite wall. A sudden flash of gold distracted him, and he paused, turning around.

Jessica lay in a heap on the ground, her hand pressed against a bloody mark on her cheek. Her eyes streamed with tears as she looked up… looked at
him.

Thomas blinked, and for some reason it was suddenly hard to breathe. He stared down at his hands, his knuckles stained with blood, and he realized what he had done.

A sharp pain blossomed in his stomach, and he whirled in time to receive another blow to the chin. David, one eye swollen shut, blood flowing down his face, glared at Thomas with fury. Thomas was paralyzed with indecision, even as David delivered a beating of his own. A quick punch to the nose filled Thomas's eyes with stinging tears. He screamed at his muscles to stop, but he retaliated before he could halt the motion. A vicious punch snapped David's head back, and it hit the wall behind him with a thud. David's eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed to the ground.

Thomas's throat and eyes burned. His body groaned from the beatings he had received and delivered. He looked at Jessica, and the apology caught in his throat. He took a step forward, and she flinched away from him. The terror on her face was like a bucket of ice water, chilling his soul to the core. With a wordless cry, Thomas fled, leaving David collapsed against the wall, his blood already drying on Thomas's hands.

Chapter 33

David's first conscious thought, once he could formulate one over the pain of the headache, was how familiar he was becoming with waking up in unfamiliar surroundings. It was mildly disconcerting.

The room was painfully bright, and David realized the bed he was laying in was next to a sunlit window. He reached for the curtain controls, but moving caused aches in his ribs and made the headache flare up. With a groan, he lay back on the bed.

"David?"

He felt a hand stroke his forehead. It took a second for the face hovering over him to come into focus. "Mom?"

His mother gave a tearful laugh. "How do you feel, honey?"

David pointed at the window and winced. "Can we cover that?"

She pressed the button, and the curtain extended over the window, extinguishing the worst of the light. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back in a moment."

When she was gone, David propped himself up and looked around the room. Bare walls, uncomfortable-looking furniture, cabinets and equipment: a medical facility.

Great. I hate hospitals.

There was a chair next to the bed. Analara was curled up in it, fast asleep. An ugly bruise covered one of her cheeks.

The door opened again, and Roger and Lucas followed David's mother inside. Lucas immediately pulled a chair up to the bed. "Hey, bro. How you doing?"

David would have laughed at his brother's serious expression if his head wasn't throbbing. "I've been better. This beats being struck by lightning though. Barely."

"We just heard from the med drones," Roger said. "You've got a mild concussion. No broken bones, but a hell of a lot of bruises." He was frowning, and his jaw was cocked in what David recognized as his problem solving look. "Do you remember anything about who attacked you?"

David lay back down and stared straight at the ceiling so that Roger couldn't see his eyes. "Not really."

"Are you absolutely sure? No identifying marks, height, build, nothing? From your wounds, your attacker was trying specifically to injure you. Multiple blows to the face, several to the stomach—"

"Roger, do you have to do this now?" David's mother interrupted. "He just woke up."

"Liz, the guy is still out there. The sooner I know what we're looking for, the sooner I can get a report in to VERA."

David let the sounds of their argument drift away. When he closed his eyes, he caught flashes of memory from the attack. The feel of a solid fist against his ribs, the metallic taste of blood from a split lip. Thomas's look of rage…

He would have never expected it. Not from Thomas. It was wrong on so many levels. Thomas was the good guy, the quintessential knight in shining armor. Even when Thomas was attacking him, he'd been worried about what had gone so terribly wrong as to drive Thomas to violence. What could possibly have—

Jessica. That was where it all started.

As hurt as David felt bodily, he couldn't blame Thomas for the wounds of the heart. He'd gotten a taste of that hatred when Analara lay dying in his arms. He'd wanted to tear Shalaron apart. For Thomas, that grief had stretched on, with a constant reminder of the woman he'd lost.

David noticed that the room was quiet. He turned and watched his mother and Roger whispering to each other. Lucas was hunched over in his chair, staring at the floor with a frown on his face. "How long have I been here?" he asked, more to break the silence than out of actual curiosity.

His mother turned back to him. "Since last night. Jessica called the drones after you were attacked."

David glanced over at Analara, hoping that she was all right.

"Honey… we're a little worried." She came closer to him and pitched her voice low. "Jessica was hysterical last night when the drones came. No one could understand a word she was saying. It was like she was speaking another language. We finally got her calmed down enough to take a few scans. They couldn't find anything wrong, but we're going to keep an eye on her just to make sure she's all right. She stayed up watching you until a couple hours ago. The exhaustion finally caught up with her."

David shared a glance with Lucas, who gave a tiny shrug. "Thanks for letting me know, Mom," he said.

"Are you hungry at all?"

He opened his mouth to say no, but after a second look at Lucas, he changed his mind. "Yeah, a bit."

She smiled and brushed his hair back. "I'll see what I can find." She turned and headed for the door. Roger gave them a quick nod and followed.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lucas jumped to his feet. "Thomas did this to you, didn't he?"

"Shhh." David glanced over at Analara, but she hadn't stirred at all. "Yes, he did."

"Damn it, I thought he was our friend." Lucas began pacing the room, his expression growing darker by the second. "He could have killed you. He
tried
to kill you!"

"Will you calm down? If he had really wanted to kill me, I would be dead right now. Just leave it be."

"Are you kidding? I'm not gonna let him get away with it!"

Something about the way he said it raised warning flags in David's mind. He reached out and caught Lucas's arm, pulling him toward the bed. "Listen to me, Lucas. Do
not
go and do something stupid. Leave Thomas alone. I'm serious."

Lucas sighed bitterly, then looked away and nodded. David frowned, but the headache was pounding again. He released his grip and lay back on the bed.

"I gotta go take care of a few things, bro. I'll look in on you later," Lucas muttered.

David watched his brother quietly. Lucas walked to the door, glanced back at him, and left. "For your sake, I hope you're telling the truth," David whispered.

Ignoring the complaints of his bruised body, David sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Colored specks danced in front of his eyes, and he paused as a wave of dizziness surged through him. He cautiously stood up, gripping the bedside stand in case his legs chose to go on strike. One step at a time, he inched over to Analara.