Stones: Experiment (Stones #3) (19 page)

Someone like Matt.

With the tap of a finger on his jax, Ryzaard engages the killing machine, amplifying the power and reach of his Stones. Stretching out with his mind, he finds Dr. Hasina Kamel’s Stone and holds it firmly in his grip, fully expecting her to try to jump away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she sits on the floor at a low table. A tea kettle stands next to a bowl of sugar cubes. Two cups of steaming tea wait, one in front of Dr. Kamel, and the other on the opposite side of the table.

Ryzaard looks at this jax and still sees the sleeping woman in the bed. She looks identical to Dr. Kamel.

“A projection.” She picks a sugar cube out of the bowl, places it between her teeth, and takes a long drink of tea. “Your pathetic v-cams are so easy to fool.” She motions to the other side of the table. “Please sit. At least do me the honor of sharing tea before you kill me.”

Ryzaard takes a cautious step forward.

“Do take your shoes off, Dr. Ryzaard.” Dr. Kamel lets a smile play across her lips. “You, of all people, ought to be intimately aware of our customs.”

Looking at his feet, Ryzaard slips out of his shoes and walks forward, sitting on the floor opposite Dr. Kamel. His hand stretches out to the cup of tea and lifts it to his lips where he sniffs it.

“It’s perfectly safe.” Dr. Kamel takes the tea from Ryzaard and brings the cup to her mouth, allowing the liquid to run past her lips. She hands it back.

He takes a sip. “If you knew I was coming and the purpose for my visit, why are you still here?”

“Curious, isn’t it?” Dr. Kamel’s eyes drift to a painting on the wall to her right. “Do you know who that is?”

Ryzaard looks at the wall, the palm of his right hand still gripping the sphere under the table.

“By the markings on the crown, I’d say that it’s Hatshepsut, one of the few woman pharaohs in the history of Egypt.”

“As one of her descendants, I’ve always looked up to her. She ruled for twenty years and brought great wealth and prosperity to her people. Then she mysteriously disappeared.” Dr. Kamel puts another sugar cube between her teeth and gently sips tea through it.

Ryzaard nods. “Some say she was murdered by her step-son, Thutmose III.” He reaches for a sugar cube and drops it into his cup. “Based on the legend, the god Amon-Ra came from heaven and personally escorted her back.”

“I can assure you that the legend is true. You might say I have personal knowledge of the matter. And like Hatshepsut, I live without fear of death, knowing that a glorious future awaits.” Dr. Kamel pours more tea for both her and Ryzaard. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”

“You already know everything.”

Dr. Kamel sits back, tresses of long gray hair hanging below her shoulders. A delicate golden chain clings to her neck, disappearing at her collarbone below the line of her clothing.

Ryzaard notices the shape of a Stone beneath her light blue robe.

She follows his eyes. “Who doesn’t know about MX Global and its rise to the top ranks of international mega-corporations. Its war-mongering business. Its profits from chaos and killing, arming all sides in the small conflicts that rage across the globe without end. Congo, Nepal, Mumbai, St. Petersburg, Nanjing. And in thousands of other hellish nightmares of misery. And, yes, I know of your own meteoric rise within the organization. Quite an achievement. Now that I know you’re a Stone Holder, it all makes sense.” Her hand strokes her Stone beneath the cloth.

“We all use the power granted us in the way we think best.” Ryzaard drops another sugar cube into his tea and raises it to his lips without stirring, inhaling the aroma. “We all strive to make our contribution, to move mankind closer to the goal.”

“And what
is
the goal, Dr. Ryzaard?”

Ryzaard closes his eyes and takes a long drink. “A world of freedom from suffering. Freedom from pain. A world where the strong do not prey upon the weak. Paradise.”

“Strange words, coming from an MX Global executive officer. And how, exactly, are you going to bring about this Paradise you speak of?”

Ryzaard senses the smooth surface of the sphere in his hand. “Through the proper exercise of power.”

“I see,” Dr. Kamel says. “For you, power is the answer.”

He isn’t sure whether this is a statement or a question. He takes it as the latter.

“Yes, power
is
the answer. The only possible path. Power in the right hands. Power without fear. Power that knows what is right and best and good for everyone. Power that protects the innocent from the ravages and savagery of the—”

“Powerful?” One eyebrow rises on Dr. Kamel’s face. She reaches up to the golden chain on her neck, pulling the Stone out and cradling it in her hands. “My father gave this to me just before he died of pancreatic cancer. Until that time, I did not even know he possessed it.”

“Why didn’t he heal himself?”

Dr. Kamel moves her fingers across the Stone. “He told me his time had come, that he was returning to the land of his fathers and mothers.”

“Fool,” Ryzaard says. “He would still be alive if he had only exercised the—”

“Power?”

“Yes, of course.”

She shakes her head. “I still remember his final words, spoken just before his last breath.” Her eyes float up to a photograph on the wall of a gray-haired Egyptian man wearing the white coat of a medical doctor. “Power without love is an illusion. It cannot last. It ultimately fails. Only love can endure forever.”

Ryzaard throws his head back and laughs. “Meaningless drivel. Cliché
and
naïve. Words spoken by the weak. Those who fear power.”

“The meek
shall
inherit the earth.” Dr. Kamel looks into Ryzaard’s eyes with a steady, warm gaze. She takes another sip of tea. “I am ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to die.”

“Aren’t you going to try to run?”

“Would it do any good?” Dr. Kamel looks over the edge of the cup as she sips the last of the tea. “Even now, you hold a grip on my Stone that would be difficult to break. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that I
could
jump away to another place on the planet. You will follow and find me. In your rage, countless other lives will be destroyed.”

“You’re right.”

Her eyes drop to her Stone, as though considering another option. “I suppose I could fight back, but I’ve never been a violent person, beyond what is necessary to hold down the crime rate where I live and protect the innocent. I’ve spent my time helping the poor and haven’t developed the fighting skills to defeat you. No matter what I do, the end will come, sooner or later.”

“True.” Ryzaard places the killing sphere on the table.

“I’m not a coward. I’m more than willing to wage war against you, if it would help. But, like you, I have dreams and visions. I’ve seen the future. And unfortunately for humankind, Dr. Ryzaard,
you
are the future.”

“It’s gratifying to hear you say such kind words. I’m almost tempted to ask you to join me.”

Dr. Kamel shakes her head. “I would rather die than assist you in your sick lust for power. For that is exactly what you are doing. Lusting for power. You may think otherwise, but it is only self-deception.” She places the empty teacup on the table. “I wish there were another way. The world you will bring is dark and loathsome. But it cannot last forever. It
will
move us closer to Paradise. That is my only consolation.”

“Aren’t you afraid?” The power of the Stones floods into Ryzaard’s mind and body, under his full control, ready to be deployed at his command. A green glow penetrates the round surface of the killing machine. He relaxes, silently exhaling and allowing his shoulders to drop, and reaches out to Dr. Kamel, probing for any trace of resistance, any sign of an impending attack.

He finds none.

It is just as well. Even if she wanted to escape, it is now too late for her to jump away. He holds her firmly in his grasp and can follow her to the ends of the earth, deploying the weapon at will.

Dr. Kamel’s eyes meet Ryzaard’s. “There is no fear in love,” she says. “But perfect love casts out fear.”

Ryzaard nods. “Yes, 1 John 4:18. I am familiar with that line of thinking, a particularly pernicious and addictive way of life. Many have been seduced by such lies.”

Dr. Kamel says nothing.

Ryzaard reaches into the pocket of his tweed jacket and takes out a flat piece of plastic with six colored tubes attached, gently laying it on the table.

Dr. Kamel’s eyes follow his fingers as they play across the surface of each tube.

“How would you like to die?” he says. “Do you have any preference?”

Lavish lashes descend over her moist brown eyes. “I leave the choice to you.”

He holds the green tube up to the light. “I used this one just yesterday. A most ghastly end.” He places it on the table and takes out the red one. “How about this one? Cardiac arrest and death in three minutes.”

Dr. Kamel stares ahead, past Ryzaard’s head, at a portrait of Jesus nailed to a cross.

“Perhaps this one.” Ryzaard holds up a pink tube. “It has no immediate effect. Within days, your mind is wracked with hallucinations. Depression follows. Then madness. You lose the will to live and die of starvation.”

Dr. Kamel has no reaction.

Ryzaard drops his gaze to the colored tubes on the table. Slowly snapping all of them back into place, he pours himself another cup of tea. Then he pours one for Dr. Kamel.

“Is it difficult to decide?” She bows forward and takes the cup.

“Your lack of resistance makes it difficult.”

She brings the cup to her lips and takes a drink. “Do not be deceived. My lack of resistance is my most potent weapon.”

“Weapon?”

She nods and takes another sip of tea. “It brings your downfall that much closer.”

Ryzaard says nothing, but detaches the white tube from the plastic sheet and drops it into a slot in the sphere. The sound of a vacuum seal passes between them, and then silence. He reaches into his jacket and takes out a clear mask.

“Goodbye, Dr. Kamel.” Ryzaard stands and presses the mask to his mouth, leaving the sphere on the table. He backs up several paces.

She relaxes and closes her eyes. “Farewell, Dr. Ryzaard.”

His mouth closed, the jaw muscles turn hard and taut. His eyes visibly narrow.

A white halo appears above Dr. Kamel’s head, and then it expands and drops on her, enclosing her within a thin film of glowing energy. A slot opens on the surface of the killing machine. White mist billows out.

Ryzaard stares, wanting to see a struggle, a final admission by Dr. Kamel that weakness bows before power, that fear is real and unavoidable.

That love, not power, is an illusion.

But Dr. Hasina Kamel simply exhales and collapses onto the floor.

A smile graces her lips.

L
eaving Jessica’s cries trailing behind him, Matt sprints through the underbrush past the towering trunks of cedar trees.

The little girl in the white dress stares at him, frozen for an instant, and turns to run away.

From above Matt’s head, he hears a crisp popping sound. A streak of jagged lightning crosses his vision and strikes a tree two meters from the girl. The shockwave from the explosion of splinters lifts her off the ground, throwing her limp body into a mound of decaying wood.

Matt surges forward.

The popping sound comes again when he is three meters from the girl.

Lunging through the air, he lands on all fours over her. At the same instant, the tip of a lightning dagger plunges into his back. It flows up and down his spine, and then radiates out across his body like thousands of bee stings on every square inch of skin.

The pain causes momentary paralysis, and he collapses onto the girl, gasping for air.

She opens her eyes, looks at him, and begins to scream.

As Matt looks up, the black shape floats away. He cradles the girl in his arms, trying to comfort and quiet her, but she screams louder, the terror apparent in her eyes, kicking him and beating him with her fists, trying to escape.

There’s a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s gone,” Jessica says. “Let me take her.” She pushes him away and picks up the girl. “We have to get away from here. The forest is burning.”

Matt pushes back the pain, thanking his skin armor for saving his life. And the girl’s.

He and Jessica both stand and run back to the boulder, under the overhanging ledge.

Jessica sits next to Matt and puts the little girl on the other side, hugging her and running fingers through her hair. Within seconds, her cries become sniffles, and then silence. They both see it at the same time.

In her tiny hand, the girl clutches a black rock.

Matt’s Stone.

Without thinking, Matt reaches for it.

Jessica slaps his hand. “Not so fast, mister.”

The girl’s dark eyes move to Matt and narrow to slits.

“Don’t worry about him.” Jessica turns and ruffles Matt’s hair. “He’s just trying to help us.”

“But he has blue skin,” the girl says. “That’s
Abomination
.”

“That’s how he saved your life,” Jessica says. “The blue stuff protects him so he can help people.”