Revelations. Part 18

I sagged against Starch. Days. I'd been asleep for days. Starch held me on my feet then led me over to a nearby couch. I sat, and he sat beside me, one arm around my shoulders.

"You've been sick, Christiana," Philip said.

"I don't get sick," I said.

"Apparently you do," he told me.

I swallowed, feeling just the slightest itch in my throat.

"You pa.s.sed out on the porch," Starch said. "You had a really high fever. Philip even called a doctor."

"Doctor?" I said quietly, lost in disbelief.

"Later," Philip said. He glanced at Starch.

Starch asked the questions burning in both of them. "Chris," he said softly, "where's Jonas?"

I closed my eyes. "He's dead," I told them. "We went back to the base. We were ambushed. They took him. I got away."

Starch pulled me closer, and I could see without looking, the tears forming in his eyes. "Are you sure?" he asked.

I nodded against his shoulder. "Pretty sure. They killed Christian's son, too."

Starch heard from me about my little half-brother who never knew I was his sister. "d.a.m.n," he whispered. "To go so far as to kill a little kid...."

I shuddered. After a moment I said, "I can't stay here. It's not safe."

"You're not well," Philip said, kneeling before me. He placed his hands on my thighs. "If they knew you were here, they'd have come for you by now."

I swallowed for the umpteenth time.

Philip looked up into my eyes then said, "Let me make you some tea and get you something to eat."

I shook my head but Philip wouldn't take no for an answer. He rose and went into the kitchen.

"He's worried about you," Starch said. "So am I."

"It's not safe," I said again. "After what I saw them do to Jonas...after the Commune..." I couldn't go any further. I put my head in my hands and rubbed my tired eyes. What I really wanted to do was sleep, but I had to get away. If Christian was still alive, I had to find him to protect him. This was just the illness talking. The last thing I should have been doing was looking for my father and putting him in even more danger. I knew what I needed to do, but not where to begin. I had to get out of this house and away from people who I didn't want to get hurt.

Philip came back into the room with a cup of tea and a couple pieces of toast. He was followed by a man whom I recognized instantly.

"You," I said, on my feet before I knew what I was doing.

The man came to me, put both of his hands on my shoulders and forced me to sit back down. Michael Daniels smiled at me, his hazel eyes kind and gentle, just as I remembered them. The good doc spoke in his usual tone. "When Philip called me, I knew I had to come."

"Thanks again for that," Philip said, handing me the cup and plate.

"You should eat," Michael said to me.

I nibbled at the bread, getting safely through the first piece before putting the plate aside as my body began to protest. I drank the tea until the cup was empty, only because the honey and lemon soothed my throat. I rubbed my aching head as I put the cup on the coffee table. I curled up in a corner of the sofa.

Michael sat down on the coffee table and placed a hand against my cheek. His hand strayed to my forehead and he looked up at Philip. "She's improving," he said.

"Why are you here?" I asked the doc.

Michael looked to Philip, silently asking permission. Philip nodded. "Philip and I have been friends for a long time" he explained. "We've rescued many an experiment together. Including Starch here, though he probably doesn't remember." The doc looked at the firestarter, who was staring, wide-eyed. "I'd heard tales about a gang of street kids in New York who were rumored to have special powers. When one of them was brought to me, unconscious after a brutal beating, I ran a few tests. You're as unique as any of them."

"I don't remember you," he said, blue eyes flashing.

"Probably not," Michael said. "I turned you over to the protection of Philip and didn't intervene. You were just bruised; nothing serious. Philip took you here, to California."

I looked from Michael to Philip, using my mind to a.s.sess the truth of the situation. Michael and Philip had this business-like relationship for a good ten years. Doc Daniels earned his medical degree at eighteen, a true and bonafied genius. Philip owned the hospital in Ohio where I'd been lucky enough to be taken after the accident that wasn't, just a happy coincidence I ended up in doc Daniels's care. He'd placed Michael in charge of the hospital, after a.s.sessing the nature of his genius, at nineteen. Philip also owned a hospital here in California, in the city of Glendale, plus two law firms in New York, one in Boston, and two in Los Angeles.

I broke myself out of my shock and stared Philip in the eyes. "I had no idea," I said.

"What?" the so-called vampire asked.

"Who you are," I said. "What you've done. How old are you?"

Philip shook his head. "Too old," he said.

"Where's your wife?" I asked, afraid to know the answer.

"She left. After Starch appeared on the doorstep, I told her who I am." Philip paused then continued. "I told her the truth. I managed to hide my blood drinking habits from her, but when I showed her, well...she couldn't handle it."

"Sorry," I said quietly.

"It's okay," he said. "I should have known I couldn't keep up that charade for too long."

"I'm still sorry," I said.

Philip only nodded.

I took a breath, composed myself and released the fever I hadn't even realized had been cooking my poor brain. I can't erase exhaustion, or eliminate my headaches, but I felt much better. I got to my feet. "Thank you, everyone, for everything you've done," I said. "I have to find Christian. I have to warn him. Then I'm going back to Cannon, and I'm going to destroy it."

Starch stood up. "I'm not letting you go anywhere alone."

Philip stood beside Starch. "He's right," the old blue-eyed vampire said.

"n.o.body has to put their lives in danger for my sake," I said firmly.

"I'm not giving you a choice," Starch said. He shook his head. "I'll follow you. Where ever you go. You saved my life. It's only right that I protect yours."

"You can't protect me," I said.

"I'll d.a.m.ned well try," Starch said, crossing his arms over his chest.

I looked up into those insanely blue eyes. I smiled. I knew there was no changing his mind. I knew I had no choice. "Okay," I said quietly. "But I don't know where I'm going."

"Don't care," Starch said.

The next words fell from my trembling lips before I could stop them. "Jonas gave his life to protect me," I said.

"And I will do the same, if it comes to that," he said.

I felt loved. Now I hated the feeling. I'd much rather be hated and despised. That, at least, was what I deserved.

Chapter Forty-Five.

A few hours later, after finishing off the last piece of toast, I asked about my gun. Philip turned it over without a word, not bothering to inquire as to where I got it. I tucked it into my pants and gave him a hug. Starch packed a bag with clothes for himself, though we'd probably only be gone about twenty-four hours. You see, I knew where Christian was being held. I hacked into the gov secure sites once more- using a cyber cafe twenty miles from Philip's house, hence the reason for a few hours pa.s.sing- and found Christian, once again Christian Fletcher. Once again, government property.

Except this time, he was in a hospital for the mentally insane.

This fact scared me. Since I knew his birth date, Social Security number and all other information I would need to steal his ident.i.ty, I knew it was him. They hadn't bothered changing his social this time. They probably didn't think anyone would come looking for him.

It was dangerous going back to Ohio where they kept him. I had to know. I'd learned enough in the past days to be more careful. I had to know what had been done to him and to know if I could pull him out of it. It was another one of my stupid decisions, but I did it anyway. I still blame it on the fever.

Michael arranged a flight for us through a pilot friend of his by the name of Range McAllister. Starch and I took a taxi to the airport, leaving Philip and Michael behind. Philip wanted to come but I adamantly refused. I couldn't risk everyone's lives in this venture of mine. So they stayed behind.

In the Burbank city airport, Starch and I waited for Range to come meet us. We'd scheduled a place and time, but Starch and I arrived early. This gave time for the incident that occurred in the terminal.

I'll be honest; I still wasn't feeling a hundred percent. I was at maybe sixty or seventy percent, but I wasn't about to admit it to Starch. Anyway, we were sitting before a certain art work panel. People were coming and going, back and forth, going to and from their terminals, meeting family members, etc. There was a lot of activity. I didn't notice the man standing in from of me until he actually said my full first name.

"Christiana."

I looked up, a bit shocked. People don't normally stop in airport terminals and say my name. "I'm sorry?" I said.

"That is who you are, right?" the man said, taking a couple more steps towards me.

I had my gun. I got it through security by manipulating the minds of the guards to not see it as it went through the x-ray machine, hidden away in Starch's bag. I thought briefly about pulling it out and getting rid of this stranger who somehow knew my name, but curiosity stilled my hand.

"Who are you?" Starch asked, finding his voice, just as curious as I was.

"Sorry." The man stepped to me and extending his hand. "Malcolm Larson," he said.

I tentatively shook his hand.

This so-called Malcolm Larson knelt before me on one knee. "I saw you sitting there, and I recognized you."

"From where?" I said, my voice shuddering.

"Oh, you're well-known. In our community," he said.

I looked at Starch, who shrugged.

Malcolm smiled, seeing our confusion. "Guess we aren't as well-known to you as you are to us."

"Guess not," I muttered.

"Look, I can't hang out. I'll miss my flight, but I just wanted to say I really admire you, what you do."

"What I do?" I repeated.

"Yeah," he said. "Fighting for us. Going into that base. Stealing files. Killing those soldiers. Everyone knows what you're trying to do."

I was silent, eyes wide.

"When you liberate one of us," he said, "you make yourself a hero. If you liberate more, you'll make yourself a G.o.d." He smiled. "Keep it up. Everyone will be so excited I met you."

I shook his offered hand, gaping at this strange man as he disappeared down a corridor.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" Starch asked after a moment.

"I have no idea," I said. "None whatsoever."

Range appeared, introduced himself and that was that. I put this strange incident at the back of my mind and concentrated on what I'd do when I got to Christian, a.s.suming there was anything of Christian left. At the very least, I knew he lived.

Chapter Forty-Six.

Range was a great guy. He was about thirty-five with spiked brown hair. He had plugs in his ears and the words "LET'S FLY" tattooed on his right bicep. There was a half-naked lady wearing a flight jacket and pretty much nothing else on his other arm. I liked him from the start. He offered to let me try and fly the little plane, but I refused. Other things occupied my minds.

Starch and I sat in the back of the plane, contemplating what the h.e.l.l occurred in the terminal.

"So, this guy obviously knew you," he said.

"Duh," I muttered.

"Someone at Cannon must have blabbed information about your doings there to others," Starch said. "Word's gotten around."

"Guess," I said.

"You aren't being very talkative," Starch said. "What do you think?"

"I think you're right," I said. "I think word's gotten around."