Roswell High: The Salvation Part 3

The desert sand began to swirl, forming a tall column. The column began to whirl, dragging more sand into it.

"I don't know if this was such a good idea," Maria shouted as a large boulder got sucked into the tornado.

The funnel of spinning sand expanded. Trevor felt it sucking the ground out from under his feet, greedy for even more ma.s.s.

"Michael! The car!" Maria cried, panicked.

Trevor jerked around just in time to see the Cadillac fly into the air and whip into the funnel. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he staggered over to Maria and grabbed her wrist. Images of a man's face, a chocolate cake, and a piece of wood with a wicked-looking nail in it flashed through his mind as he made the connection. He used his powers to make both their bodies heavier, anchoring them to the ground.

Maria's hair slashed into his face, each strand like a wire whip in the furious wind. He could see her screaming something, but he couldn't hear a word.

He tilted back his head, craning to see the top of the tornado's funnel. He couldn't. But he could see the car. It was so high up, it looked like a toy.

Slowly, slowly, the car became larger, large enough for a kid to squeeze in. It's coming back down, Trevor realized. The howling wind grew a little quieter. The Cadillac touched down with a shuddering thump, and a flood of sand fell from the sky, burying Trevor, Maria, and Michael up to their knees.

Michael turned toward them, covered in grainy silt. "I didn't even use a quarter of the potential power," he told them, his eyes stunned. "I don't know what I was thinking. One of these babies opened a wormhole. This was no kind of test."

"But I bet it got people's attention," Maria said, struggling to free herself.

Trevor realized that her body-and his-was still weighted down. He used his powers again, restoring them to their usual weight and density, then he helped Maria out of the sand.

"You're right," Michael told Maria, tousling his hair and causing streams of sand to fly everywhere. "We better get out of here. We can figure out a better test tomorrow." He used the Stone to move the car over to a section of sand that was still firmly packed, then tossed the keys to Maria. "I've got to put the Stones back. You can take the car and leave it at your place. I'll pick it up later."

"I live to serve," she muttered, twirling the keys once around her finger.

Michael turned to Trevor. "Want to come with me?" he asked.

Trevor nodded, getting the unspoken message. Michael had decided to give him another chance by letting him in on the Stones' hiding place. His brother was offering Trevor his trust for the second time. And Trevor was going to make very sure Michael didn't regret it.

FOUR.

Isabel didn't want to step into the bedroom. If she did, she might end up having to use her power on Max. Well, on the consciousness, really. But she couldn't attack the consciousness without damaging Max. And even thinking about hurting her brother set the contents of her stomach agitating.

"So, are my two starlets ready to perform?" Alex asked, putting one hand on her shoulder and one on Liz's.

"Starlet? Did I actually hear you use the word starlet?" Isabel muttered, tossing her long, blond hair over her shoulder in an attempt to look nonchalant. "Are you from planet 1950 or what?"

But did it feel good to have Alex making dorky comments? Did it feel good to feel the warmth of his hand through her shirt? Yes, she had to admit it did. Anything calming and familiar was good at this point.

"Isabel's right," Liz jumped in. "The word you'd be wanting to use is actor."

"Not actress?" Alex asked, green eyes widening in what Isabel suspected was mock surprise.

"There's no reason for a word like that to be s.e.x differentiated," Liz said with a little nod. "No one says doctress, right?"

"Or lawyeress," Isabel added. She shot a glance at the closed bedroom door, then immediately looked away. Could it possibly be more obvious that they were all avoiding going inside?

"But then, there is stewardess," Alex countered, tightening his grip on her shoulder slightly.

"Flight attendant, cave boy," Isabel shot back, leveling him with a glare. She knew she should be reaching for the door handle, but she didn't. She just couldn't make her fingers go there.

"So if I want to be politically correct, I should just call all three of us chickens for standing out here having a fake argument instead of going in?" Alex asked.

"Exactly," Liz told him. She clicked her teeth together nervously, then reached out and jerked open the door.

Now that it was open, there was really no choice but to walk through, so Isabel took the plunge. There was a lot that scared her in this world, but there wasn't much she'd admit to being scared of. Once she was inside, Liz and Alex tentatively followed.

"Max, we talked it over, and we want to help you get the Stones of Midnight," Isabel blurted out almost the second she was across the threshold. She wasn't usually a blurter, but she couldn't help herself.

"I told her-everyone-how you felt, how you want to go home," Liz said, walking over to stand next to the bed. "Alex and Isabel and I decided that if that's really how you feel, we should . . . should help." She sounded scared, and Isabel noticed her eyes darting everywhere-everywhere except Max's face.

And why did I notice that? she asked herself. Answer: Because I'm looking at Liz to avoid looking at Max. She took a step closer to the bed, leaned forward, and forced herself to stare unblinkingly into her brother's empty eyes. After a moment her own eyes began to sting, but she didn't allow them to close. She kept staring, hoping for some glint, some flicker, some tiny sign that Max was in there. That he knew she was standing almost close enough to touch.

Nothing. All she saw was the light blue of his irises. The deep black circles of his pupils.

"So, Max, buddy, does that sound good?" Alex asked, lightly punching Max's shoulder. "We'll get our b.u.t.ts in gear and start tracking down the Stones, okay?"

Max pulled a slow, even breath. Let it out.

"We'll take that as a yes," Alex said quickly. He was so jumpy, he was practically coming out of his skin. Isabel could feel it. "We'll get right on it. And we'll report back," he added, turning toward the door.

Isabel hesitated for a second, still wanting something from Max. Then, realizing she wasn't going to get it, she started after Alex. "Aren't you coming, Liz?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I want to stay a little while," Liz answered. She had yet to look at Max. Isabel wondered why she'd want to stay, but she knew better than to ask. Liz would probably make up an answer, anyway. Isabel walked up to Liz and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I'll leave the door open so we'll hear you if you . . . need anything."

"'Kay," Liz whispered.

"Don't get too close, all right?" Isabel said quietly.

"'Kay," Liz repeated. She was almost as catatonic as Max.

Isabel walked out and trailed Alex down the hall and into the kitchen. She could hardly believe she'd just told Liz Ortecho not to get too close to Max because Isabel was afraid Max might hurt Liz. It hadn't even been a year since Isabel was warning Max to stay away from Liz, terrified that Liz would tell their secret and get them shipped off to some alien autopsy lab.

"I was wrong about that," she mumbled.

"Wait. What? Did I just hear you say that you were wrong about something?" Alex exclaimed, back in the hyper zone. "Has the world spun off its axis? Has gravity reversed itself? Has-"

"Your rah-rah-boy act is getting old, Alex," Isabel informed him, immediately starting to rearrange the cereal boxes on the counter. "You don't have to attempt to keep everyone all chipper."

"Attempt," Alex repeated. He slumped down in the closest chair. "Thanks a lot."

Isabel dropped what she was doing and slid into the seat next to him.

"Look," Isabel said, staring at the cracked surface of the table. "It would be impossible for anyone to make us feel better right now."

"Yeah," Alex agreed. He sc.r.a.ped a marshmallow cereal rocket off the kitchen table, turned it over in his fingers, then absentmindedly popped it into his mouth.

Isabel struggled not to look disgusted. "Do you really want to know what I was wrong about?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and letting her hair spill down behind her.

"Definitely." Alex spotted another gummy marshmallow and reached for it. Isabel pressed her hand over his, stopping him. Alex stared at their hands as if they were completely riveting.

"I was wrong about Liz," Isabel said, focused on their hands as well. "After Max healed her, I was sure she'd betray him, betray all of us. But she didn't. Whatever the opposite of betray is, that's what she did," Isabel added. "You and Maria, too. I was so wrong about all of you."

"I, on the other hand, knew you were a G.o.ddess the moment I first saw you," Alex said, slowly pulling his hand away. "And I wasn't wrong." He smiled sheepishly at her, then looked away.

Isabel snorted and started picking at her nails. "Have you had some kind of seizure recently?" she asked. "Something that might have caused ma.s.sive memory loss? How could you possibly still have me on a pedestal after everything I've done to you?"

Like breaking up with him with all the finesse of a meat cleaver. Like pushing him away when he tried to warn her how dangerous Nikolas was. Like so, so many times just not appreciating him enough-acting like anything he did for her was simply what she deserved.

"Who said anything about a pedestal?" Alex asked. "I'm talking G.o.ddess like Greek mythology. G.o.ddesses who were more beautiful than any mortal." He gave a grin that was half embarra.s.sed. "But who were also strong and smart and who would do things like turn men into ashes if they felt like it."

"And that's me?" Isabel asked, not totally hating the description.

"That's you, baby," Alex said. His words were teasing, but his tone wasn't. He really meant it. He thought she was a G.o.ddess.

Isabel tilted her head and looked at him, really looked at him.

"Do I have something in my teeth?" Alex asked. He started using his finger as a toothbrush.

"No, I was just trying to decide what you are," Isabel admitted. "If I'm a G.o.ddess, then you're . . . you're like one of the guys out of a fairy tale."

"I don't think I'm liking where this is going," Alex said, sitting up straight in his chair. "You're a G.o.ddess, and I'm, what? Hansel?"

"Sort of. You're . . ." She hesitated a moment, trying to come up with the right word. "You're resourceful. Like when the witch wanted to see if Hansel was fattened up enough to eat and he kept letting her feel the chicken bone instead of his finger-that's something you would do. You think fast."

"But Hansel," Alex scoffed, throwing out his hands. "Just the name. Hansel! How lame."

Isabel shook her head and laughed. It sounded odd, but good. "Forget Hansel. Forget fairy tales. How about Superman?" Alex brightened at this suggestion, and she grinned. "You're a good guy like he is. And you have that sort of geeky-yet-cute exterior-well, until lately, when you became a stud. Plus in the right situation you can kick some major b.u.t.t."

Alex rocked his chair back on two legs. "Superman. I like it." For one second everything was fine. Then Alex glanced over his shoulder, Isabel followed his eyes, and she remembered what was going on. The smile fell from her face as Alex let the chair legs fall back to the floor with a thud.

"Think I should check on Liz?" he said.

"It's still quiet back there," Isabel answered. "Let's give her another couple of minutes. If Max-if the consciousness-bought our story, she should be safe."

"I wonder how the B team is doing," Alex said. He reached across the table, going for the marshmallow rocket again.

"Me too," Isabel agreed, letting him eat the repulsive thing without comment. Sometimes Alex just had to be Alex. And that, at least most of the time, was a very good thing.

"It sucks being the lovely a.s.sistant," Maria muttered as she maneuvered Michael's big old Caddy onto Main Street . "Trevor and Michael are off . . . someplace, probably someplace really cool. And did they even think about inviting me? Oh no. No, no. I get to drive the car back home."

She slowed down as she pa.s.sed the UFO museum. She could just drop the Cadillac there and save Michael a trip. Buses ran pretty often at this time of night, so it wouldn't be too much of a pain.

But that wasn't going to happen. Maria pressed her foot on the accelerator and sped around the corner. Michael had said he'd pick up the car, and that's what he'd have to do. And if she just happened to see him through the window when he came to get it, and then just happened to wander outside, and then just happened to throw herself on the hood of the car and scream, "Kiss me, you wild Michael beast," and then just . . .

And then just happened to watch Michael run like he was training for the Olympics, she thought, rolling her eyes. Which was obviously what he would do.

Maria tried to keep her mind on the road the rest of the way home. She only ended up driving by Braille a couple of times. That's what her brother, Kevin, called it when she let the car wander a little too far to the left and started going over the little b.u.mps marking the white divider lane-driving by Braille.

It took only two tries for her to pull the boat of a car into the driveway. Two tries and one slightly dented antenna. Hey, if Michael had a problem with it, he could do the driving himself.

Maria cut the engine and reached for the door handle, then hesitated. Being in the car was sort of like being a little tiny doll or an elf and living inside Michael's pocket. The interior actually smelled like him-all spicy-musky, with a hint of sweet-and-spicy that came from the number of crullers with hot sauce he'd consumed sitting right where Maria was now. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out with a long, content sigh.

"I have so lost it," she whispered. But she didn't get out of the car. She leaned her head back against the seat and took another breath, savoring the smell, then clicked on the radio and did a pa.s.s through the stations Michael had programmed in. She smiled when she caught a s.n.a.t.c.h of an Elvis tune. She was sure Michael had chosen that station in honor of Ray Iburg, who'd given Michael the car. Any station that played the King would have been fine by Ray.

She punched the b.u.t.tons again until she found a song that matched her mood, kind of slow and sad and dreamy. She closed her eyes and let herself drift into la-la-la land, which was what she called the place in her head that was in charge of producing fantasies. That little corner of her mind was fully stocked with images of Michael. Maria picked one-Michael in a soft gray T-shirt that matched his eyes-and began to dance with it, breathing in the Michael scent, trying to make the fantasy a little more real.

"Wow." Trevor watched the waves roll into the sh.o.r.e again and again. Michael watched him watch, then returned his own gaze to the ocean.

"Before I hid the Stones out here, I'd been to the beach only once before, with the Evanses," Michael said. "Totally blew me away. One of the best times ever."

"I can imagine," Trevor answered, never taking his eyes from the water. "Can we go in?"

"We'd freeze," Michael replied. For the last fifteen minutes he'd been sitting here, trying to play it cool and not pull his jacket tighter around himself to fight off the wind. "If we had wet suits, we'd be okay, but-"

Trevor turned to look at Michael, and he was grinning. "We have something better," he said, pulling one of the Stones out of his pocket.

Michael smiled. He yanked off his jacket and was out of his shirt in seconds. "What are we waiting for?" he said as he shoved off his sneakers without bothering to untie them. "Last one in is a rotten egg!"

He raced across the deserted beach, aiming his Stone at the water. Trevor was right behind him. "A rotten egg? Ooh. That really hurts," he shouted.

"You ever smelled a rotten egg?" Michael yelled back. He plunged straight into the ocean and kept running, as well as he could run against the tide, until the water was chest high. "This is awesome. It's warmer than a bathtub." He spread open his arms and let himself fall backward, submerging completely. When he came back up, the first thing he saw through the salt stinging his eyes was Trevor blowing a stream of water out of his nose and coughing.

"Didn't the materials the Kindred gave you mention that the human body can't breathe underwater?" Michael asked.

Trevor answered by using both hands to splash Michael. Michael retaliated, using a little power, nothing anyone would notice, to bring a wave down on Trevors head.

A second later Michael was kissing sand. "Truce, okay? Truce?" he called when he resurfaced.

"Okay," Trevor answered, slicking his brown hair away from his face.

"Suck-er." Michael used his power to knock Trevor on his b.u.t.t. And the water war was on again.

One attack, one counterattack, one counter-counterattack, two fake truces, and one real truce later Michael stretched out on his back, allowing the warm water to support him. He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face. Him and his brother at the beach. It was too cool.

"I'm gonna have to build me one of these when I get back home," Trevor announced as he floated beside Michael. "After we shatter the consciousness and I help rebuild the planet, it's on the top of my list."

"Ambitious much?" Michael asked. The stars had come out, and he stared up at them, feeling like he was floating in the sky, too.