Revelations. Part 15

I could still feel the muscle behind the scalpel and the power it took to kill her. It felt like her blood was still touching my skin though I'd already ditched my bloodied s.h.i.+rt somewhere in the desert outside of Cannon.

I shuddered.

"You okay?" I heard Jonas say as I closed my eyes.

I swallowed. "I'm not sure." I paused. "f.u.c.k," I added as an afterthought.

"Headache?" Jonas asked.

I only nodded.

"Welcome to the club," he said grimly. He came over and began rubbing the back of my neck. After a moment, he said, "Let's get some sleep, okay. Tomorrow, we'll go find your father."

I looked up at his beautiful, amber eyes. I nodded once more. He lay down on the bed with me, his arm around my waist. I listened to his breathing until he fell asleep about an hour later. I did not bother to see into his head. I also did not sleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

The very next dawn found me standing outside the door to our hotel room, leaning on a rail looking out at the world. Our room faced the parking lot, so all of the world I could see was limited. It was enough. The people mingling and loitering kept my mind busy.

When Jonas woke hours later, he had a moment of panic before he looked out the door and found me. He didn't ask what I was doing out there or why I stared at nothing. He only came up behind me and kissed the back of my neck. I took that as my cue to go back inside and ready myself for the day. After my shower, I dressed and swept my fingers through my hair. I waited while Jonas did the same-except for the hair thing, since he doesn't have any. Then we were off.

I had my father's address written down on a sc.r.a.p of paper. We took the one file Jonas managed to steal with us, just in case there be a doubt in Christian's mind. I a.s.sumed we'd hit a snag there. I a.s.sumed he'd either been brainwashed or his memory erased. I thought he wouldn't remember me or the accident that wasn't. I wasn't sure what would happen when I stopped a.s.suming and saw for myself what really became of Christian.

It didn't take long to get there. Before I knew it, we parked out in front of a lovely little home with a short, white picket fence. Being it was the desert of New Mexico, there was a very small patch of gra.s.s up near the front of the house and a cactus garden out by the sidewalk. On the tiny patch of gra.s.s a small boy played with a couple of toy cars. He was alone and the only reason I got out of the truck and approached the house was because of this.

Jonas stayed where he was and watched. I didn't blame him.

I carefully approached the boy, as if he was a wild animal that would run at the first quick move I made. "h.e.l.lo," I said, trying to keep my voice as friendly as possible. I stood on the sidewalk, on the public side of the white fence.

The boy looked up at me with a childish smile on his face. He could have been no more than four.

"Does Christian North live here?" I asked, taking care to remember my father's new name.

The boy got to his feet, but he was smart enough not to approach the strange girl who hung out on the sidewalk. "He's my daddy," he said.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Reagan," he answered.

I smiled. "Is your daddy here?"

"He's working," the boy said.

A quick scan of the boy's mind told me working meant Christian was at the Clovis base. "Do you know what time he'll be home?"

Before the child could answer, a woman came out of the front door and went to gather her son in her arms. Her name, from what I pulled from her mind, was Tara North, Christian's wife.

"Hi," I said, raising a hand and waving, trying to appear friendly though I'm sure I just came off as suspicious.

"May I ask what you're doing here?" she asked. She was very protective of her son.

"I'm looking for Christian North," I said, keeping it simple.

"Who are you?"

"Uh...." I cleared my throat. "I'm an old friend. I was in town, and I thought I'd look him up. Is that his son?"

"Yes," she said, taking a step back towards the safety of her house. "Christian isn't home. He'll be back in a couple of hours. You can try back later."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said as I turned around and headed back to the truck.

Jonas raised an eye ridge at me. "Who was that?"

"His wife," I said, looking back at the house. "And his son. He isn't home. He'll be back later."

"Then we'll wait," Jonas said, opening his window and propping his feet up on the sill.

"It might be a few hours," I said, angling my head at him.

"That's okay," he said, smiling at me. "You know that kid is your half-brother, right?"

I knew that, but something else plagued me all of a sudden. It had nothing to do with Christian or his new family. I watched Jonas's face as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes to take a nap. It was his smile that bothered me. Back at the Commune, his grin was large and took over his face. He always showed his pointed teeth back home. Whenever he smiled now, it was thin-lipped and toothless. Jonas had changed. It hadn't been a week yet since we'd come across the carnage in the desert yet Jonas was almost a different man. Oh, he was still my Jonas, still the man I loved so deeply, but he was different. He was...sad.

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Two hours later, after only sleeping for a few minutes myself, a clean, pristine white Lexus pulled into the driveway of the North house. Now I'm sure- because I checked Tara's head- she knew I'd gotten into this truck and sat in it the whole time, waiting. She could have called the cops, but instead she waited for her husband to come home and a.s.sess the situation. Her husband was an Air Force pilot with plenty of combat training. He took care of things.

Lucky for me, things didn't have to go awry.

When I saw Christian come out of the garage after parking his car, I got out of the truck and hurried over to him. Jonas followed me, but I paid him no attention. The man I'd lost so long ago suddenly stood before me, dressed in his military uniform. My heart got stuck in my throat, and my legs felt like jelly, but I moved forward. It took a whole lot of effort to get my voice to work while my heart lodged in my throat.

"Christian," I said loudly as I stopped at the end of the driveway.

I don't know what I expected from him, but it certainly wasn't what I got.

He was holding a briefcase, and it fell to the ground. He stood there for a moment, his green eyes locked on my face. He then walked down the driveway, his boot heels clacking against the concrete, and gathered me into his arms. Stunned, I couldn't react immediately, but I wound my arms behind him and buried my head against his shoulder.

"I thought you were dead," Christian said in my ear. He ran a hand through my hair as I pulled back from him. "I thought they'd killed you."

"They almost did," I said, sniffing. I didn't realize those stubborn tears rolled down my cheeks again until Christian wiped them away. "What happened, Christian?" I asked.

He smiled. It was the same old Christian Fletcher smile I remembered so well, one I often saw in my dreams. "I could ask you the same thing," he said. "Come inside. Tell me everything."

My chest hitched as I gained control over myself. "Okay," I said.

Jonas cleared his throat to get my attention, as I completely forgot about his existence for a brief moment in time.

I smiled back at him. "Christian," I said, reaching back to take Jonas's hand. "This is Jonas." I pulled Jonas forward so Christian could get a better look. Jonas hadn't even thought about hiding his features, and he didn't do a thing but tilt his chin upwards.

Christian, knowing who I was and how I'd gotten the powers I possessed, only shook Jonas's hand and motioned for us to follow him inside. He didn't even take a second look.

Inside the house, we faced Tara, who knew me on sight and lifted her eyebrows in surprise. Reagan was in another room, watching TV and ran into the kitchen to embrace his father when he heard the door shut.

"Hey, kiddo," Christian said, hoisting his son into his arms.

"I met her earlier," Reagan said.

"Met her?" Christian repeated.

"She was looking for you," Reagan said.

I smiled at the boy, who smiled back. I noticed for the first time his eyes were as green as my own, as green as his father's. I waved at the child. He waved back.

"What's going on here?" Tara asked from her place in the doorway.

I didn't know what to say or even where to begin.

Christian did. "Tara, honey." He walked over to her and took her hands in his. "I have to tell you something. And it might be hard for you to believe, but it's the honest truth. This is Christiana." He turned in my direction, giving me rea.s.surance with his emerald eyes. He looked back to his wife to say, "She's my daughter."

Tara's eyes darted from her husband to me. "What?" she said quietly, in obvious disbelief.

"Before I joined the Air Force," Christian began, still holding tightly onto her hands, "when I was all of eighteen, I had a one night stand with a woman I met in a bar. I s.h.i.+pped out the next morning. The girl never told me she had a child. We never exchanged numbers or anything. Eighteen years later, this girl showed up on my doorstep. We did a DNA test. She's mine."

I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders. He left out enough of the details for me to feel safe.

Tara had more questions. "Where has she been? How come you never told me about her?"

Christian looked at me. I looked at Jonas. Jonas was prepared. He handed me the file which I handed it off to Christian. Christian took one look inside the brown manila file, gasped and sat heavily down at the kitchen table, his son still in held in one arm. Before he opened the file again, he set Reagan down and told the boy to go watch TV. Reagan gladly obliged, and we soon heard the clap and clatter of a cartoon.

My father swallowed as he reopened the file, his mouth slightly agape at the photos he saw within it. "Remember the car accident I was in? She was with me," Christian said as Tara came closer and peered over his shoulder.

Jonas muttered, "Accident, my a.s.s," under his breath.

Christian only looked at him then back down at the file.

Tara's hands crept to her husband's shoulders. "Is that your old car?" she asked. Her breath was only a whisper, as she looked at the photo of the burned out wreck of a cla.s.sic and once beautiful Mustang. "The one you crashed in? I never saw pictures of the accident. I had no idea it was that bad."

Christian only nodded, one finger straying and wandering over the surface of the picture. When he flipped over to the next picture, Tara gave a cry and turned away with her hands over her mouth. The picture was of my crushed face. "Oh, my G.o.d," was all Christian could say.

Jonas came up behind me and put his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"They told me you didn't exist," Christian said, unable to remove his eyes from the photograph. "They said I was alone in the car when it crashed."

"They told me the same thing," I said. "But I knew."

He looked up at me, green eyes meeting green eyes. "What happened to you?"

"I was in a coma for three years and six months," I told him. I could go into even more detail, giving him minutes and seconds too, but I didn't. I knew them; I took the time one day and figured it all out. I wanted to know how much of my life had been taken away from me in a split second.

Christian looked back at the pic of my battered head then he looked back at me. He didn't need to say it. I knew what he was thinking. I should be dead, yet here I was, standing before him. Completely intact.

"What is going on here?" Tara asked, moving away from Christian, still unable to look back at the photos. "I don't understand."

"I'm not sure I do either," Christian said. He stood and went to me.

Jonas backed off.

Christian looked me over, touched my head where it caved in, and placed his palm against my cheek. "What is there to understand?" he said suddenly. "She's my daughter. I love her. That's enough." He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, sliding his palm away.

"I need an explanation," Tara said fiercely. "Of the car accident. Of this girl. Of him!" Her voice rose to fever pitch as she pointed at Jonas.

Feeling overly protective, I stepped in front of Jonas. Jonas lifted his chin, his eyes staring out from beneath lowered lids. He hid from society all his years at the Commune, but he was used to this kind of thing, having experienced enough of it during his childhood. So he said to me, "It's okay. You're actually harder to explain than I am."

Jonas stepped around me and stood proud in the middle of the kitchen. Christian, who hadn't really paid much attention to the details of Jonas's face, took a good look. I was about to start explaining the reasons for my love's appearance but Jonas took over.

"I was born in a laboratory in Nevada," Jonas said. His eyes roamed from Christian to Tara if only to watch their reactions. "I was five-years-old when I escaped. My DNA is spliced with some type of reptilian DNA. Hence the scales. I'm also cold-blooded with an average body temperature in the seventies. And I'm madly in love with your daughter." He hesitated then added with a small smile, "Sir."

Christian gave Jonas the absolute broadest smile he could manage. Tara had other ideas. She walked over to Jonas and looked up into his face. He stood his ground as she went all the way around him, giving him a thorough examination.

"Look at his eyes," Tara said as she came back around to face him. "I've never seen eyes like that before."

"And you never will again," I said, feeling my own pride swell at the knowledge that he was mine and mine alone. I went to Jonas and grasped his hand. He brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.

"What about you?" Tara said, feeling more confident in this strange situation she found herself in.

"Me?" I said, practically stabbing myself in the chest with my free thumb.

"Those pictures," she said, shuddering. "n.o.body could survive that."

I bit into my lower lip. I didn't know where to start, what to say or even whether I should say anything at all. This was how I'd gotten into trouble before. Christian stepped in.

He opened a drawer and pulled out a small, almost familiar looking paring knife. Tara protested, but she quieted when he shook his head. "It's okay, hon," he said. He handed the small knife to me as he said to his wife, "You can never speak about this to anyone. n.o.body. No matter who asks or who you come across. You can never speak of this."

"But why?" Tara asked.

"Promise me," Christian said.