Robert Crane - Untouched

Ariadne looked taken aback. “Dr. Sessions? Perhaps you remember he was flambéed last night? He’s on leave.”

“Unless you want Hannegan to leave the planet, get me the lab rat so he can get this maledetto collar off of him!” She spun back to me. “You! Make yourself useful and pick him up!”

I did. Zack stared at me as I set Kurt down on the gurney and Dr. Perugini strapped him in across the midsection and legs. She jerked her head toward Kat, who had been watching the whole exchange so far without saying a word, looking like someone in far, far over her head. “Can you tell me how hurt he is?”

Kat blinked a few times then stepped forward, laying her hands on his face. She didn’t look quite as tanned as she usually did; in fact, her face had a kind of pallor about it and she looked almost gray. I started to ask if she was okay but I remembered that when last I had seen her she was trying to undo my handiwork on Scott, so I shut up. Her hands hovered over his face. When she withdrew them she appeared to be unsteady on her feet. “He’s hurt, but not too bad,” she said. “Some nerve damage, I think. Maybe some tissue damage to the heart, I can’t tell.” She looked up at us, weary sadness filling her face. “I’m sorry. I can’t do anything to help him, I’m too exhausted.”

“That’s all right, sweetie,” Perugini said, soothing. “That tells me most of what I need to know.” She looked back to Ariadne. “Sessions. I need him now.”

Ariadne nodded and pulled out her phone. “I’ll have him meet you at the medical unit.” We watched as Perugini pushed Kurt inside on the gurney, Kat trailing behind her. Ariadne was on the phone for less than thirty seconds and when she got off, she gave Zack and I a wan smile. “So, it was a trap?”

“I think so.” I answered before Zack did, causing him to blink in surprise. “This guy wanted to stir up enough meta trouble to get the Directorate involved and tail your agents back here so he could find me.”

“How did you know who he was?” Zack stared me down, drawing Ariadne’s attention to me as well.

I almost panicked, then realized that there was an easy answer. “Reed told me this guy was looking for me but he didn’t know when he was gonna show up.”

Ariadne let out a sigh of exasperation. “You could have mentioned this before.”

I smiled weakly. “Trust.”

Ariadne crossed her arms in front of her. “Fine. Give me his name and I’ll see if we have anything on him.” She looked me over. “How are you feeling?”

I thought about it before I answered. “I’m fine. It felt…really good to win a fight for once.” I frowned. “Without getting pummeled to a near-death state.”

“Try and make a habit of that, will you?” She looked back to the door where Dr. Perugini had gone only moments before. “I don’t think il dottore is very pleased with you at present.”

“I’ll add her to a list that’s growing by the day,” I said. “I don’t know what it is that makes people so angry with me.”

“Perhaps you insulted her,” Ariadne said with only a touch of irony. I let it pass. I actually did feel good. She turned to Zack. “I’ll expect your report tomorrow morning.” With a nod at me she went back into Headquarters, leaving the two of us alone.

“Anything else you want to tell me about the man in the iron lung?” Zack looked at me with hard eyes as soon as she was gone.

“Umm.” I pretended to think about it. “His name is David Henderschott, he’s a Pisces, he likes long walks on the beach at night, and his favorite drink is a fuzzy navel. He’s also a fan of Streisand movies, and he listens to Nickelback when he’s alone and in the shower.” I snickered. “I might have made a few of those up.”

Zack did not appear to be amused. “I’m not surprised.

“Well, seriously, I mean I don’t know anything else about him except that his skin is what binds those metal plates to him.” I shrugged, my arms expansive. “I only have the basics.”

“And you didn’t mention this before, when we first encountered him?” Dark suspicion glassed over his eyes.

“Like I told Ariadne, we’re not to the full-trust stage yet.” I stared him down. “Give it a little more time, maybe.”

“Time,” he said with a shake of the head. “I don’t know what it’s going to take, but I doubt it’s just time. I’m gonna go check on Kurt.”

He left, and I felt a stab of guilt for lying to him. I exited the garage through a side door, stepping out into the winter night. It was starting to snow, the flakes landing delicately on my shoulders. Had I been less preoccupied, I might have tried to catch one on my tongue. Yeah, I’d just dealt a hell of a beat-down to Henderschott, but he wasn’t dead, and for some reason, I suspected he’d be back. Wolfe was still somehow able to take control of my body at unfortunate moments (not that there would ever really be a fortunate moment for him to assume control) and because of him, I suspected I’d let loose an extremely dangerous meta to wreak untold havoc upon the world.

Did that mean anyone Gavrikov killed was another death on my conscience? I already had 254 that I blamed myself for. I’d kept a very careful accounting, sadly enough, and that was the tally. Sure, I hadn’t physically killed any of them myself (except Wolfe) but I regretted them all (except Wolfe).

I entered my room, shutting the door behind me. I had been tired hours ago; now I was exhausted. I threw down my coat, noting white powder spots from the drywall all over the exterior and a nice rip along the back, presumably from the fight with Henderschott, and I wondered if I should be worried. Did most seventeen-year-old girls get into as many fights as I did? I doubted this was normal for anyone but the worst delinquents.

A knock at the door jerked me out of my thoughts. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. Drywall dust was speckled through my hair and I had three visible rips in my shirt. I sighed and went to the door.

When I opened it, I was faced with a man I’d never seen before. He had a deeply pale face, his hair was brown and short, and his eyes were bright blue, in a shade that glittered even in the dim light.

“Yes?” I looked at him as I spoke. He was older, probably in his thirties or later. “Can I help you?”

“May I come in?” He spoke with a heavy accent that sounded Russian or Slavic.

“Umm…do I know you?” I looked at him, trying to determine if I’d seen him before. He wasn’t Henderschott, I knew that much. His face was normal, handsome even, though pale.

“Can I please come in?” He looked back down the hall, furtive, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I saw you outside and followed you back here so we could talk.”

“Saw me outside?” I drew the door a little closer to shut. “There wasn’t anyone outside just now. The campus was deserted.” I straightened, trying to project the image that I was strong by drawing myself up to my full height. I doubt it worked. At 5 foot 4 inches, I was shorter than almost everyone. Including him. “By the way, telling a girl you followed her back to her room? Not exactly a turn on. Kinda makes you sound like a stalker.”

He brought his hand up to his eyes as though he were frustrated, massaging his temples. He looked out at me from behind his fingers. “I need to talk with you.” He pulled his hand away from his face and held it up. I stared at it, wondering what he was going to do next when the tip of his finger burst into flames. I yelped in surprise and the flame spread across his entire hand, stopping at the wrist. With an abrupt flick of his fingers, the fire died and his flesh returned.

“Aleksandr Gavrikov,” I whispered.