Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(88)

“Can I get you another soda?” Mrs. Smythe asked as she headed for the refrigerator.

Mark shook his head. “No thanks, Mom. I still have more than half of mine left.”

And just like that, the conversation turned to his school schedule, the interesting new piece of electronics his dad was working on at the lab, his mom’s male hairdresser’s new boyfriend, anything but Jennifer. That doorway had closed, the subject locked away like a crazy relative in the cellar.

Mark forced himself to finish everything he had put on his plate, despite his sudden loss of appetite. Then, after helping clean up the kitchen, he excused himself, proclaiming his need for a couple more hours of study before tomorrow’s biology test.

He’d been intending to study for the test, but couldn’t get his mind off of his parents’ inexplicable decision to temporarily waive Jennifer’s grounding. The theory that formed in his mind on that subject put him into a slow-boiling rage. Only through using his meditation technique was he able to cool down and wait for Jen to get home. Anyway, he wouldn’t know for sure until he got a chance to ask her about it.

The wait proved to be a long one. By the time a car pulled up outside to drop her off, Mark’s clock showed 1:03 a.m. Oddly enough, his parents seemed as unconcerned about her lateness as they had about allowing her out in the first place. This was confirmed when Jennifer ducked into their bedroom to kiss them good night.

As Jennifer retreated to her bedroom, Mark moved out of his dark bedroom, his hand catching her door before she could close it. He stepped inside.

Jennifer stared at him, a look of amusement on her face. “It’s a little late for a brotherly chat, don’t you think.”

“What did you do to Mom and Dad?”

Jennifer pushed the door closed, then turned back toward him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.”

“Okay. Since you know it all, you tell me.”

“I know about your extra little trips out to our ship. I’ve seen the way you’ve been affecting people around you. You’ve learned a new trick.”

“Relax, Mark. I’m the same twin sister you’ve always known.”

Suddenly, a sense of well-being enveloped him, a wonderful calmness reminiscent of the deep alpha wave patterns from some of his meditations. Shit, she was doing it to him. Using the reverse of his meditation technique, Mark pulled forward the perfect memory of his previous anger.

He leaned in close. “Sorry, Sis. You’re little mind games won’t work on me. I don’t care what you do to your vapid little cheerleader friends, but you stay the hell out of my head. Stay the hell out of Mom’s and Dad’s heads too.”

Jennifer grinned, the look sending a chill down his spine and ramping his anger to the next level.

“I can’t believe you’d do that to Mom and Dad. But since you don’t give a shit what you’re doing to them, why don’t you drug their food while you’re at it?”

The look of fury that swept Jennifer’s face pealed away her calm facade. “Don’t you ever talk to me that way again. In fact, don’t even talk to me. Get out of my room. Now!”

Mark wheeled, pulled open the door, and strode rapidly down the dark hallway toward his room. Behind him, he heard Jennifer’s door close and lock. Fine. If she wanted to be that way, then screw her.

As his anger faded, a wave of deep depression settled into the hollow it left behind. Mark knew he should recall his meditations and get control of his emotions. But somehow, standing at his window, staring out at the darkness that separated his house from Heather’s, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.





89


Heather didn’t need to glance at the clock on her nightstand to know that it had just ticked past two a.m. As the Thorazine continued to dissipate from her system, she had lost her need for sleep. And as it departed, the visions hammered at her consciousness. The one good thing about that was she was getting plenty of practice shutting them off. Over the last several hours, her confidence had grown to the point that she let herself wade more deeply into some of the waking dreams, just to test her ability to exit them whenever she desired.

But going more deeply left her exhausted. Luckily, one of the meditation techniques proved extraordinarily restorative, thirty minutes leaving her as refreshed as a full night’s sleep.

Heather had run through the probabilities from each test, and there could be little doubt that Mark was right. What she was experiencing had nothing to do with losing her mind. It was a side effect of exploring a new region of her brain. While their link to the Second Ship had unlocked the full potential of their brains, it had left them stumbling blindly through that vast, unexplored landscape.

But that was okay with her. Exploration of her potential might be dangerous, but Heather had always enjoyed risk. The knowledge that she wasn’t going insane empowered her.

Thrilling as that realization had been, a new discovery currently held Heather’s full attention. She had stumbled upon it by accident. As she prepared to immerse herself in another vision, she was momentarily distracted by a moth that brushed her hair.

Heather felt her perspective shift, her view of the moth zooming in until it seemed she was trailing along behind it. The flutter of its wings was preternaturally loud as it bobbed left and right in some dark space. The sight of clothes lined up on hangers triggered her recognition. This was her closet.