Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(83)

We mourned for Val's unborn child, too, who should have had Corinne as a mother. Someday, perhaps, Val could locate a found mother—one the Wise Ones thought suitable. I found it strange, however, that the Wise Ones had refrained from passing judgment on Corinne, remaining silent instead on her deeds as well as her future.

A part of me wondered at that.

The other one we hadn't heard from was Breanne—or any of the Mighty.

Sighing, I sent comforting thoughts to my son and walked away.

*

Corinne

The next part of my plan pivoted on timing. Everything had to be just so, in order to achieve the proper result. A miscalculation at this point could allow the drug and some of its recipients to slip through, only to create destruction on Earth again.

I couldn't let that happen.

D.C. was my next stop, after I fed.

*

Opal

I had a shield in place around the villa, or it would have been affected, too. Outside, the sun blinked on and off like a pulsar, as time ran backward. Tentatively, I Looked, testing the waters outside our small island.

Lives, buildings, countries—so many things fell and rose, died and lived in the strangest planetary disco anyone could imagine. It hurt to look at it after a few seconds.

"Stay in the house and draw all the curtains," I told James and Nathan, who'd wandered onto the terrace. "If you don't, it may cause madness."

"Don't look," I snapped as both attempted to turn and do just that. I ended up folding them inside the house and slamming shutters and curtains closed on every window. Earth was now a runaway horse heading for a cliff. I hoped there wasn't a sudden stop waiting for us at the end.

"Corinne, please be right," I muttered as I locked the villa against escape by its inhabitants.

*

Corinne

I'd been forced off-planet to feed—I hadn't realized what would happen when two timelines were destroyed, one right after the other. At least the wild disco had stopped by the time I'd fed and slept on Tulgalan.

Before I went back, I'd been forced to determine the day for me to appear—a day when I was assured I'd have time alone with the real, original President Phillips. The one who was neck-deep in his nefarious plans, but not so far into them that the drug had been given to too many and before the clones he'd ordered practically covered the earth.

Eventually I made a choice—I knew just the day.

The day before my husband and I had walked into the Louvre, thinking we were going to see famous works of art we'd never seen in person.

The real Phillips still sat in the President's chair at that time; it was by his command that I'd been given the drug.

All I needed was a short amount of time to see what he knew, who he knew was involved with the drug and where, in both Russia and the U.S., it was hidden. If all went well, I intended to take care of those things.

If you continue with this madness, Kal's voice hissed in my mind, you will set things in motion that you cannot comprehend.

I love you, too, I replied and folded space.

*

Opal

When the dust settled, I unlocked the doors. All of us walked outside. James carried his cell phone, which was now tuned to a U.S. news program.

Everything appeared normal.

"Can we go home, now?" Nathan asked.

"Corinne isn't finished," I said. "You need to wait a little longer."

"Cori's doing this?" James whirled to face me.

"She's trying to make it right."

"Will it be right?" Leo Shaw asked.

"Only history will say for sure," I shrugged.

*

Corinne

He—Phillips—sat at his desk, reading a bill and acting perfectly normal. He hadn't become Sirenali, yet. I studied him for nearly an hour as he turned pages, scanning the thick document.

That's when the real Hal Prentice wandered in and settled on a guest chair.

"Everything's in place for tomorrow—those paintings may as well be ours already," Phillips said without looking up.

"Will he keep his end of the bargain? We need those weapons designs sent to the proper location. His people will do the testing for us and make sure everything works before we go into full production."

"Don't worry," Phillips turned a page. "It's all taken care of."

"Minimum loss of life at the museum?"

"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs," Phillips mumbled. "We have to make this look real. Without those deaths, it won't look real. Everyone will think those paintings destroyed, and on live television, too. As for the crown and other things, those are already in our possession. It's what he wanted, to ensure his cooperation."

I'd heard enough.

"Well, hello, boys," I said, revealing the taller, bluer me.

"What the hell?" Prentice scrambled out of his seat and backed toward the President's desk.

"Oh, I'm a drug survivor—from your future," I replied. "Except it won't be from your future, now." Before Phillips could fire the gun he'd drawn from a desk drawer, I separated their particles.

I may have laughed while I did it. I can't really say.

*

That afternoon and evening, I lost count of the people I destroyed. Either by separating particles or by remote killing, the talent I'd had in my first incarnation. For those who'd received the drug that I didn't want to kill, their blood was neutralized. I didn't want Nick or Maye clones running around anywhere.