Chapter 8

“You saved his life.” Darnell folds his arms over his massive chest and leans against the wall outside a private room in the medical ward.

“I shouldn’t have had to.” I mimic Darnell’s stance, but my eyes go to Michael lying in the bed inside the room. Monitors beep, and an oxygen tank makes a whirling noise. Even with the advancements found at Keleusma, they still have to do that for him—hook him up to a bunch of equipment and give him fluids through an IV. “The flu isn’t supposed to be this bad.”

“The Spanish flu is the single worst pandemic in history. The bulk of those who perished were strong, young men. Like him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder. “It kills by making the victim’s immune system go into hyper-drive. What’s supposed to defend you starts ransacking your body. Killing you. Which was already happening to Michael.”

Why does Darnell have to keep reminding me that Michael could be dead right now?

I pivot a little, angling myself into the doorway. “But he’s going to be all right?” I can see Michael better from here. There’s no way he can hear us over all the machines, but his hand moves, letting me know he’s still awake.

“We reset his immune system. So I believe so.” Darnell’s mouth forms a grim line.

He’s leaving something out—something vital. I feel it in his stilted words.

“You don’t sound convincing.”

Darnell glances down at the electronic pad he has tucked under his arm and shifts his weight against the wall. He taps on the screen a few times. “He’s showing some hearing loss in one of his ears. I can’t fix that. But everything else will go away shortly. By tomorrow he’ll be close to his old self. I believe most everything will go away.”

Loss is one of those words that always hits me wrong. Lost and loss sound so similar but are worlds apart. If something is lost, it can be found again. But loss. Loss is just gone.

I swallow back a question about his hearing. It doesn’t matter. Even if Michael became deaf, he’d still be Michael. I’ll learn sign language. But Darnell needs to share the totality of Michael’s injuries with me. So I can be prepared. “What do you mean by most everything?”

“I’ll level with you because I know Michael won’t mind.” Darnell leans forward and lowers his voice. “Actually, you’re probably the best one to help me watch for symptoms.”

Is it really so difficult to answer a direct question? My nails bite into my palms. “Symptoms of what?”

“Shell shock.” Darnell tucks the computer back under his bicep. “He could have it, or maybe he doesn’t. It’s too early to tell. But given how long he was on the warfront—which was significantly longer than Shifters are ever out on missions—we need to be vigilant.”

“Is that like post-traumatic stress?”

“More or less. Michael tends to act like a hunted animal when he’s sick.” Darnell shakes his head slowly. “Hides it. Fakes like he’s fine until it’s way out of hand. He hasn’t realized there’s a certain kind of strength in asking for help.” He glances back over his shoulder. “But he will. Someday. You can mark my words, he will.”

Darnell missed his calling as a philosopher.

I clear my throat. “You haven’t said what I’m supposed to be watching for.”

“Signs of anxiety, jerky movements, nightmares, depression—basically if Michael starts acting unusual, let me know. You’re perfectly suited to help me watch for cues.” Darnell straightens to his very full, very neck-straining height. “Between you and me, I’m going to keep him a few days longer than he needs—for his own good. But for now, I’m going to get something into his system to aid his sleep.”

I nod, and Darnell starts to turn away but then faces me again. “Do you need something for sleep as well? You were out there and saw things that might make it difficult to relax. It would be understandable. Expected even.”

The best sleep I’ve had in months was on the cot beside Michael, but I can’t tell Darnell that. I open my mouth, ready to ask if he’s offering some sort of futuristic pills or if he’s talking about an injection.

Shoes squeak behind me. “Gabby?” Eugene’s voice is unmistakable.

I turn. The huge, goofy grin smeared across Eugene’s face makes me open my arms and lean in for a hug when he gets closer. “I missed you.” Something I just realized.

He gives me a stiff, one-arm, patting sort of hug. “I heard you were here so I came to see for myself. I would have come sooner but word on the street was Darnell had you guys under lock and key.” He winks at me through smudged glasses as he nudges Darnell with his elbow.

Darnell bites back a grin before turning to head back into Michael’s room. “Like I said, I’m going to help Michael rest better.”

When we’re alone, I offer Eugene my sweetest smile—usually reserved for when I’m teasing my friends back home. “Promise me something?”

“Sure.” His grin widens.

“Please never say word on the street again. Ever.”

“Can do.” He chuckles, saluting me.

“Did you want to see Michael?” I motion for Eugene to go into the room. “He’s still awake right now even though he wants us to believe otherwise.”

“Actually, I’m here for you.” Eugene rocks on the balls of his feet. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Ask away.”

He cups his hand near his mouth, whispering, even though it’s only him and me. Darnell and Michael can’t hear us over the instruments in the room.

“Can I have a sample of your blood?”

I want to laugh because he sounds like a vampire. Instead, I pull a face. “My blood?” Needles are not my thing. So sue me. “For what?”

“Tests.”

As much as I hate needles, I trust Eugene and know he’s Einstein-level brilliant. Whatever tests he’s running, he’s probably trying to get to the bottom of what’s different about my blood. Which can only be a good thing. Knowledge is power and all that. Right?

“How much do you need?”

“Not much.” He presses his lips together and thinks for a moment. “Maybe more later, depending on the test results of course. Or if I spill it.”

My laugh has a nervous edge. “If you spill it all, then you can run tests on your own blood, because you won’t be getting any more of mine.” My words solicit his smile again. I grin back, enjoying a rare moment in the shifting world that isn’t coupled with stress. Then I find the courage to say the only thing I can think of. “Will you be able to tell what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re kidding.” Eugene’s smile fades, and he cocks his head. “I mean, aren’t you?”

“Isn’t this about my mom and the Elixir? You want to see what it did to me.” For me, all it translates to is I don’t belong. Anywhere.

“Of course. We need to know what makes it special.” He shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Wait. You think I believe something’s wrong with you?”

Out of everyone in my life, Eugene shoots straight with me. No one else does that. So Eugene has earned my weak moments—the moments when I’m raw and vulnerable—because he’s been there, been honest, and still wants to be my friend.

I bite my lip and nod. Of course something’s wrong with me. Side note: it’s completely acceptable to be vulnerable and not use words.

His voice is soft, quiet. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Gabby. Not one single thing.”

“Uh-huh.” I roll my eyes because making a joke is easier than forging deeper into this conversation. “That’s why you want to use me as a pin cushion.”

“I have ideas. I just need to be able to test them.”

“Fine.” I stick out my arm as if he has a needle ready in his pocket. “But I’ll need a chair because I’m not too proud to tell you I’ve fainted before.”

“Not here.” He glances down the hall. “Not where we might be seen.”

“Then where? Your lab?”

“Office.” He hooks his hands in his pants pockets, which makes his scrawny arms stick out on either side. A few coin-sized bruises line his arms below his sleeves. “It’s an office.”

“What happened to you? You look like a heroin addict.” I grab his arm and poke at one of the blackish circles.

“Oh, those?” Eugene tugs down his sleeves. “More tests.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Will you come to my office? Now?”

Last time I found myself in Eugene’s “office” he’d built a teleporter, complete with crackling lightning energy, and tested it on me and Michael. Far more secret lair than computer tech’s hang out.

“I need to let Michael know I’ll be back.”

“Take your time. Just do me a favor and don’t tell him.”

Eugene hangs back in the hall while I make the ten-foot journey to Michael’s side. Michael’s heavy-lidded eyes follow me. He’s clearly fighting sleep.

The gash near his temple is almost healed. Darnell and the other medics in Keleusma are good like that. Michael’s external injuries will soon be a memory. Another story to add to his vast array of missions. But Darnell’s warning about shell shock stays with me. Michael’s bruises and cuts will quickly fade, but what about his internal pain? His mind. His spirit. Are those okay? Will he shrug off this experience like most of the others?

Or will it become another deep scar on his heart that he hides from everyone?

I stop next to his bed and press my fingertips into the mattress. “I’m going to go somewhere with Eugene for a bit. Will you be all right?”

He struggles to sit up and winces. I press my hand to his shoulder, guiding him back down.

He takes a long, deep breath. “Will you be here when I wake up?” His eyes almost close. Whatever Darnell gave him is strong. He’s fading fast. But if I know Michael, he’ll force himself to stay awake until I answer him.

My chest feels tight and achy watching him. If words could heal, I’d say whatever he needs to hear.

“Of course I’ll be here.” I try to infuse life into my voice. He doesn’t need to sense the anxiety that darts around inside my stomach. “Don’t worry about me. Your job right now is to sleep and get better. I still owe you a very stern talking to, which you’re not about to dodge.” I shake my finger at him, my frayed emotions causing me to overdo it. I try to correct my tone. “So that’s something to look forward to once you’re back to a hundred percent.”

His fingers walk toward where my hand rests on the bed until the tips of them touch me. “Gabby?” Eyes closed now, he slurs my name. “You’re my best friend.”

I almost lost him.

“You’re mine too.” A tear escapes and slides to the corner of my mouth.

I flip my hand over, squeezing his gently. “Stay gold, Ponyboy,” I whisper.

Eyes closed, a slight smile lets me know he heard me and probably knows the literary reference. Somehow, I knew he would.

I turn and palm away my tears as I head back to Eugene. A single thought pounds through my head throughout the entire walk to his office. If Erik hadn’t shifted me, Michael would be dead right now. There’s no getting around that truth. Left to Nicholas, Michael would be gone. Dead and buried in some World War One mass grave near the trenches.

Bile races up my throat. I swallow, but my eyes keep burning.

We stop in front of a door, and Eugene pulls a wad of keys from his pocket and starts flipping through them. For such an intelligent person, he’s so disorganized. After trying three different keys, he locates the one for his office. In Eugene’s defense, the keys are all about the same size and shape. I debate telling him about the Pinterest hack I saw where he could use colored nail polish to code all his keys but think better of it.

He holds the door open. “Have a seat in the chair by my desk. It’s that or the floor, I’m afraid.”

Like the last time I was here, Eugene’s office is large and cluttered with piles of paperwork, file cabinets, and stacks of mechanical parts. If I was placing a bet on it, I’d say the floor has never been swept. Not exactly the most sterile place for a blood draw. Then again, I still smell like the trenches.

“Where’s the teleporter?” I point to the empty area.

“Somewhere more secure.” He opens a box on his desk and pulls out five little vials and a needle.

Eugene has my best interest at heart, doesn’t he? He cares. And he’s smart. But is he on the wrong side in the fight between Shifters and Shades? Someone good and talented like him wouldn’t follow the wrong leader. But Erik saved Michael. He shifted me, and Nicholas continues to ignore everyone.

I drop into the swivel chair and lay my arm, wrist up, on top of the papers scattered across the desk. On one is a drawing that shows a Portal and then a bunch of scribbles and calculations. Eugene opens what looks like a handy wipe from a BBQ place and washes the inside of my elbow.

Remembering the last time I tried to give blood—which ended in me fainting—I make a fist. “When did the resident computer whiz learn to use a needle?”

“I didn’t.”

I jerk my arm away from him and cradle it to my chest. “No way then. Get Darnell. I can’t—”

“I was joking, Gabby.” He winks. “Relax. Darnell taught me how. I could give some of his nurses a run for their money.”

“Time and place, Eugene. Time and place.” I hand my arm back over.

He wraps an elastic band around my upper arm, meaning he’s going to poke the needle into my vein soon. If I think about it too much, I won’t last. But I have to do this. It’ll be better to know what’s different about my blood.

I need a distraction. My eyes go to the image of the Portal on his desk, and then I look up and away from where he loosens the band around my arm.

Distract. Quick. “I ran into Lark’s Pairing when Michael and I were on our mission. He mentioned something about problems in the shifting world.”

The needle slightly pinches my skin. I close my eyes and inhale through my nose until it feels like my lungs will burst. Eugene will discover what’s wrong with me. I part my lips and release the air as slowly as I can.

Eugene’s voice is soft. “Since you left, the Shades have been growing stronger. No one is exactly sure how they’re doing it. But they are. I have some theories, but as of yet they’re unsubstantiated.” He presses something against my arm. “The Shades move as quickly as we do now. They aren’t slumped. They’ve changed.”

“Your theory?”

“Theories. More than one.”

“Eugene.”

“I’m not avoiding telling you. I haven’t had the opportunity to look into them at length. So they aren’t worth mentioning yet.” He squeezes my wrist. “Here. Hold the gauze in place while I open the Band-Aid.”

“You’re done already?” I peak through almost closed eyelids. Sure enough, he’s capped the needle and waits for me to assume gauze-holding duty. “I hardly felt it.”

“Told you I’m a needle ninja.” He sticks the Band-Aid on crooked.

I flex my fingers, testing to make sure nothing hurts. “If the whole mad scientist thing doesn’t work out, you could try your hand in the medical ward.”

Candy apple red takes over his cheeks. “I’m just a computer guy.”

“You aren’t just anything, Eugene. And you know that.”

He ducks away from my compliment and busies his hands, tucking the vials of my blood into a small pouch. “My fear with the Shades is that their newfound strength is somehow tied to their plans for you.”

“Me?” My voice squeaks.

“They want you, Gabby. And they’re going to do whatever they can to get you.” He shoves up his glasses and looks me in the eye.

An image from my nightmares projects onto my mind like an old black and white movie. The Shades grabbing me and dragging me away. Someone cackling in the background while they do it. Calling out for help and no one responding.

But it’s all in my head. It has to be. If Erik has a colossal evil plan like the Shifters believe he does, he had every opportunity to haul me away when we met, and he didn’t. There were Shades all over No Man’s Land, and not one of them made a move to come after me.

Tell Eugene about Erik.

I stare down at my hands. If Eugene knew I trusted Erik, he’d be upset with me. He’d probably stop telling me things. More than anything, Eugene would no longer look at me as if I have some untapped potential that he’s waiting to see come to fruition. I’ve disappointed so many people in my life—I can’t bear the thought of disappointing him.

I need to redirect the conversation before I spill everything. I tap his scrawled picture. “Can the Shades take down a Portal?”

He leans against the desk so he’s facing me. “I’m afraid so. Again, I don’t have a ton of information—Donovan’s been keeping most of that under wraps. What I do know comes from piecing together overheard conversations. Basically, people have been going out on missions and finding the Portals in shambles. Portals we know should be there.”

Portals like the one Michael said is by my house. “How are the Shades doing it?”

He rubs his knuckles against his jaw line. “The better question is why. See, they’re not supposed to feed off the despair of Shifters. It’s against the rules, but they aren’t playing by the rules anymore.” He drums his fingers on the desk like a college professor. “What would push them to do that?”

Probably the same thing that’s pushing me to break the rules.

I lick my lips. “Desperation.”

“Exactly.” He turns away from the desk and stalks toward the middle of the room. “And none of this was happening until you shifted the first time. I have a hard time believing the timing is a coincidence.”

So I’m to blame for the problems in the shifting world? Great. Really. Because I needed one more tick against me. Let’s add it to my list. Can’t take care of my father? Check. Failed to make my Pairing work? Double check. Made a deal with my sworn enemy? Check. Am to blame for Portals being destroyed and the Shades becoming powerful? Check again.

Not to mention, this means that a bunch of Shifters might still be afraid of me. So walking around Keleusma should be about as awesome as it was for me last time. Which was not at all.

I rise from the chair and pace away from Eugene. “I need to get back to Michael. I promised him I’d be there when he woke up.” Granted he’s only been asleep for a half hour or so, but if he has shell shock like Darnell guesses, then I want to be there if he freaks out.

“If you wait a second, I can walk with you.” Eugene fishes through the paperwork on his desk.

I push open the door. “Don’t rush. I’m going ahead alone.”

Like always.