James Rollins - THE DEVIL COLONY

Still, even that day had been hard.

They all were.

He turned back to his father as Mary left.

Gray tried to come each morning, to be at his side when his father woke up. That was always the worst time. Twice now, he'd found his father had no memory of his wife's death. The neurologists believed it would take time for things to fully settle.

So Gray had to explain about the tragic loss over and over again. His father had always been quick to anger-the Alzheimer's made things worse. Three times, Gray had to face that wrath, the tears, the accusations. Gray took it all without protest; perhaps a part of him even wanted it.

A shuffling behind him drew his attention back to the door.

Mary poked her head in. "Are you okay with a visitor?"

Seichan stepped into view, looking uncomfortable, ready to bolt. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a thin blouse, carrying her motorcycle jacket over her arm.

Gray waved her inside and asked Mary to close the door.

Seichan crossed over, dragging another chair, and sat down next to him. "Knew I'd catch you here. I wanted to go over what I found out-then I'm riding up to New York. Something I want to follow up on. Thought maybe you'd want to come."

"What did you find out?"

"Heisman and that assistant of his-"

"Sharyn."

"Both clean. They weren't involved at all in the bombing. Waldorf seems to have orchestrated it all himself, using personal connections. I doubt he even got authorization from his Guild superiors. I think he acted alone, tried to murder both you and Monk in a cowardly act of vengeance. From the fact that the bombs were set hours before he killed himself, I think they were planted as backup, in case he failed to eliminate you in Tennessee."

Gray remembered the bastard's last words.

This isn't over.

His and Seichan's voices must have stirred Gray's father, who raised an arm, stretched. He opened his eyes and slowly focused, blinking a few times, then cleared his throat. It took him an extra moment to get his bearings, looking around the room, eyeing Seichan up and down, lingering there a bit, in fact.

"Seichan, isn't it?" he asked hoarsely.

"That's right." She stood up, ready to leave.

It always surprised Gray what his father remembered and what he didn't.

Bleary eyes turned to Gray. "Where's your mother?"

Gray took a deep breath, facing the confusion and anxiety in his father's face. The small bubble of hope inside his chest popped and deflated.

"Dad... Mom's-"

Rather than leaving, Seichan leaned between Gray and his father. She squeezed the old man's hand. "She'll be by later. She needed some time to rest, to get her hair done."

His father nodded and leaned back into his bed, the anxiety draining from his face. "Good. She's always doing too much, that woman."

Seichan patted his hand, turned to Gray and nodded toward the door. Then she straightened, said her good-byes, and drew Gray out of the room with her.

"Where's breakfast?" his father called after them.

"It's coming," Gray said as he left, letting the door close behind him.

Outside, Seichan moved him into a quiet side hall.

"What are you doing?" Gray said, anger rising, gesturing halfheartedly toward his father's room.

"Saving you, saving him," she said, and pushed him against the wall. "You're just punishing yourself, torturing him. He deserves better than that-and so do you, Gray. I've been reading up on situations like this. He'll work through it in his own time. Quit forcing him to remember."

Gray opened his mouth to argue.

"Don't you see, Gray. He knows. It's in there, buried where it doesn't hurt as much right now. He's working through it."

Gray pictured the anxiety in his father's face. It had been there every morning. Even the relief he'd shown a moment ago hadn't completely erased it. Buried deep in those eyes, a trickle of fear remained.

He rubbed his face with his palm, scratching stubble, unsure.

Seichan pulled his arm down. "Sometimes delusions are a good thing, a necessary thing."

He swallowed hard, trying to accept these words. He was enough of his father to want to fight, to dismiss what wasn't solid and graspable with a callused hand. Just then his phone chirped in his pocket, allowing him a moment to collect himself.

He pulled it free, his fingers trembling with everything inside him. He fumbled the phone open and saw he had a text message. The caller ID read BLOCKED. But the message made clear who had sent it.

Those few words were like a bomb dropped in his gut. The trembling inside him grew worse. He slipped down the wall, the world narrowing. All the conflict inside him flared for a breath, then collapsed like a dying star into a burning, dense ember. He went cold and hollow everywhere else.

Seichan followed him down, grasping his cheeks in both of her hot palms, holding him and staring into his face, inches away. She had read the message, too.

Her words gave voice to what was inside him. "I will help you. I will do whatever it takes to hunt them down."

He stared into the emerald of her eyes, flecked with gold. Her palms burned on his cheeks. Their heat spread into those cold empty places inside him. He reached to her face and pulled her closer, narrowing the distance between them until their lips touched.

He kissed her, needing her.

She resisted at first, her lips tense, hard, unsure.

Then they slowly softened, releasing, parting.

Each of them needed the other.

But was this real-or just a necessary delusion for the moment?

In the end, Gray didn't care.

It was real enough for now.

11:45 A.M.

San Rafael Swell

It felt good to be back... to shake off the ghosts that haunted her.

Kai Quocheets stood on the pueblo's porch as the sun hammered the canyon and badlands of San Rafael Swell. Dust devils danced up through the gulches and ravines. She smelled the scent of juniper and hot sand as she stared out across its expanse of buttes, stone reefs, and fluted canyon walls, striated in shades of gold and crimson.

Even after only a week, it was beginning to feel like home again.

She'd be spending her summer at the pueblos, earning college credits from Brigham Young University. She was taking a Native American studies class on the ancient Pueblo peoples. It involved recording petroglyphs, helping with the restoration of old ruins, and learning the old Hopi customs.

Like discovering how to roast pi on nuts.

"Who burned my best tray?" a voice shouted from inside.

Kai cringed, knowing she had to face the consequences of her crime like a woman. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Two days ago, she'd been officially pardoned for any wrongdoing involving the events in Utah. It seemed that her role in saving the world had evened her karmic balance with the Justice Department. Plus, having the likes of Uncle Crowe and Hank Kanosh as character witnesses never hurt.

But this was one crime she could not escape so easily.

Kai turned to the screen door and entered the deeper shadows of the main room. Iris Humetewa wore oven mitts and held up a scorched tray.

"You have to wait for the coals to burn off."

"I know, but Kawtch was chewing at his stitches, and by the time I caught him and got his cone put in place..."

She sighed, done with excuses.

Kawtch had lifted his head upon hearing his name, wearing a plastic funnel around his neck. They'd had to amputate his front leg. The rifle shot had left little bone and not much nerve, but he was recovering well.

They all were.

Alvin Humetewa's burns were mostly just deep red splotches against his tanned ruddy skin. The pair of old Hopi Indians had survived their encounter with Rafael Saint Germaine through sheer stubbornness and their wily knowledge of the local terrain.