Chapter 61 A Sterile Environment.

Evan used his key to unlock the doors to the lab. The sterile scent of the air that greeted him as he opened the door made him smile-but only a little. This is what home smelled like to Evan.

His first step into the room triggered the motion sensor lights and by the count of three, the large space was illuminated brightly. Evan walked directly into the wash area to scrub in. He wasn't the only person who used this facility, though he clocked the most hours by far. The washroom was as neat as a pin because Evan insisted on it. He had straightened the lax laboratory the first week he was there and everyone who knew him respected his level of professionalism, though they talked in hushed tones about the severe scarring on his left arm and hand. They had no idea the extent of the scarring, nor were they aware that he had lost feeling in that hand.

He tried to put it out of his mind, but he knew he would never be able to perform a surgery again. The bitterness he felt because of that truth was enough to make him want to take a scalpel to his hand out of desperation to feel something there. He thought about asking the hand surgeon at the hospital to help him. Maybe it was possible to reconnect the nerves, lessening the severity of the damage, but he decided against it.

What's the use? he thought.

Besides, maybe the scars would be altered enough in the surgery that he wouldn't be able to manipulate light waves as he could now. In the end, Evan wasn't willing to risk it.

Walking to the lockers, he grabbed the knob on his combination lock and spun the dial automatically. The silent room seemed to startle at the loud clatter of metal on metal when he yanked the lock out and opened the door.

He slipped off his jacket and set his watch and keys on the hook. Still deep in thought, he reached around to the linen shelves and grabbed a set of light green scrubs. He stripped and dressed in the scrubs quickly in the cold space. Hospitals were notoriously kept cold to discourage the spread of bacteria and germs, but Evan knew there was a deeper reason.

They were cold because everything in a hospital was cold and logical. Within these walls Evan was safe in his rational, predictable world. In this world-he was in control. At least, that's how it usually felt. Tonight was different.

Evan hung his clothing in the locker and slammed the door shut harder than he needed to. He looked down at his left hand as he slipped booties over his shoes. The glow had dissipated completely on the motorcycle ride to the hospital. All he saw now was his scars staring blankly back at him. His pinkie, ring and middle finger had their prints burned completely off.

He stood at the white sink and sighed, waiting for the water to run hot enough to sanitize. After a thorough scrubbing in the sink, Evan slipped into gloves, donned a cap and stepped on the sensor that opened the double doors into the sterile white lab.

He walked directly to the microscope to check his sample subjects. Satisfied that everything was progressing nicely, he moved on to watch four white rats scamper around their cage, excitedly awaiting their usual treat. Evan reached into the small refrigerator under the nearest counter and pulled out four red grapes.

The rats were climbing on top of each other vying to get the first grape. The one marked as "Specimen #2" got the first treat Evan slipped between the metal wires and happily started munching. The red juice immediately started to stain the white fur around his pink mouth looking eerily like blood. Evan's smile at the creature's excitement morphed into a scowl. He tossed the last three grapes through the top and walked away.

He had created a sort of workbench in the back corner of the lab where he spent half his time building. The lack of feeling in his left hand had taken some getting used to, and it still bothered him more than he would ever say, but he pressed on. His work had a time crunch and from his last check, he had even less time than previously thought. Besides, he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up the charade.

He leaned over his table, adjusted the sidelight and got right to work.

By the time he looked up, sunlight was already streaming through one of the windows. Three hours had passed.

Stretching, Evan tried to get his body and mind to stay sharp so he could keep working. But in the end, he worried his fatigue might cause him to make a careless mistake. His work was too important, too critical for mistakes.

He stood stiffly and walked to a water cooler to fill a little paper cup and take a cooling sip. Then he headed to one of the two unused offices adjacent to the lab where he flopped exhausted onto an uncomfortable black pleather sofa stored there.

Later that day a university student had come into the lab to complete a project for a class when she was startled by the sounds of frantic screams coming from one of the offices. Terrified, she ran out of the lab and called hospital police from the first phone she could find.

By the time they arrived to investigate, all they found was a completely melted water cooler. There was no water on the ground, no burn marks, no damage to anything else. Hospital police agreed it was one of the strangest incidents they'd ever seen. Rumors began to trickle across the campus.

Not knowing where else to go, Evan wandered into the hospital's chapel. Just as he was about to enter the small, sad room he stopped to wonder if God would strike him dead as an abomination if he set foot on holy ground.

By evening, rumors of the events in the lab spread to his own ears. They were saying the lab was horribly burned and believed haunted.

Evan knew the truth, but said nothing. Besides, they were partially correct.

The lab wasn't burned at all, but it was haunted by a godforsaken soul-by someone who could no longer separate dreams from reality.

He knew he'd been pushing himself away from his family. He knew why he had so many sleepless nights. Why he found himself walking the dark streets alone. So many nights he tried desperately to find a place to sleep. He didn't care about his own safety. He was afraid for the safety of others.

If he could throw light in his sleep, he could kill someone accidentally. He knew his scars were hungry for destruction, and he feared hurting the people he loved. In his efforts to do the right thing, he was pushing everyone away, until now.

Now he felt afraid of losing everyone who mattered to him.

Now, Evan realized he also feared himself.

Chapter 62 Images.

"Things have changed, Roth." Arkdone was watching the girl on his monitor as he spoke. She was lounging on her bed flipping through a magazine. The Senator switched his cell phone to his other ear, his black eyes following the outline of the girl on the screen.

"What 'things' could possibly make you want to revoke the arrest warrants on the Winter Clan? That all happened a few days ago, sir. The reporters are still on a feeding frenzy speculating the details." Roth spoke through clenched teeth, trying to control his temper.

"Rein it in," Arkdone reached out and caressed the image of the girl he had no intention of giving up.

"How do you propose I do that?" Adrian Roth was furious.

Arkdone sat back in his supple chair and gazed at her image, remembering the absolute control he felt vibrate off her as she so completely controlled his mild-mannered, thick through the middle housemaid. He felt the air around him thick with her gift and he was in awe.

To Adrian, the Senator's silence meant one of two things: He was pissed or he was thinking about being pissed. So the spin doctor kept talking.

"Sir, I have happily helped you do everything you ever wanted. I have reveled in the devious tactics we've taken to get you positioned so perfectly to become our party's leading presidential candidate," Adrian paused to take a breath, "But sir, this could kill your credibility in the public's eye."

"Not if we spin it just right, Roth. Do this. Make it happen. I want your ideas about logistics by nine in the morning."

"Yes, sir," Adrian said, defeated.

"Can I depend on you, Roth?" Arkdone looked away from the screen he'd just adjusted so he was as zoomed in on her image as the technology would allow. "Or do I need to find someone else?"

"No, sir. I've got this. You can depend on me." Roth squeezed his tired eyes shut, lifted his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Good. Nine o'clock, then." The Senator hung up on his personal adviser knowing full well the snake would devise several brilliant plans to shift the attention from the Winter Clan onto something even juicier. The court of public opinion on the matter would be adjourned as all heads would turn elsewhere.

He watched the girl for another while, dreaming of the small curve at the back of her knees. She had stripped off the stockings leaving her legs bare under the sweater dress. She was waiting for Michelle to return from shopping. Meg had sent her to buy comfortable clothing. Michelle was none too pleased at being the girl's gopher, because however little Meg remembered of the Monarch slave, Michelle remembered her.

Deciding he needed to busy himself until dinner when he could insist on the girl's company again, he walked to the sitting room and began playing the piano. The vibrations of the keys under his fingertips soothed him.

Chapter 63 The Punisher.

Hearing the piano resume, Gideon took his chance. He tapped lightly on the closed door to the room he'd been guarding all morning. Before waiting for an answer, he slipped inside the room averting his eyes in case the girl wasn't decent.

"Gideon?" Meg whispered from across the room.

"Can I talk with you?" He breathed, not at all surprised to hear himself slightly out of breath. He had started to notice being around her made his heart race like a thoroughbred's.

"Are you okay?" Meg hopped off the bed and walked up to the soldier hiding his face from her. Even as she did, she projected her emotional feelers to search his kaleidoscope of a signature for the problem.

"Me? I'm worried about you!" His voice had taken on a raspy quality.

"I'm fine. Why don't you turn around and talk with me?" she suggested.

"Are you decent?"

Meg stifled a giggle at the question. "Of course, I am."

"I just didn't want to overstep," he murmured as he turned and looked into her dark eyes.

She had been bored enough to play with the makeup left in her powder room. Not sure how to use everything, she just chose a select few things, climbed on the sink so she could lean way into the mirror and read the simple instructions on the back of the containers. She especially had a difficult time with the mascara.

She'd never realized she had such long lashes until she tried to paint them. She was moderately happy with the results and besides, it had killed an hour of her morning after that exhausting breakfast. Besides, she knew she was safe from Arkdone's spying camera in the powder room as the man hadn't been so vulgar as to install a camera there. Meg had searched the small space thoroughly.

She knew he was watching her as she lounged on the bed reading, but what else could she do? She was about ready to scream waiting for Michelle to return with the clothing she'd requested. She needed her running clothes and shoes so she could at least get out and run.

"You're not overstepping," she smiled at him. Gideon felt a wave of dizziness and realized he'd been holding his breath.

"What happened this morning when he made me leave the room?"

"We made an agreement."

Gideon's honey eyes were expectantly wide.

"What kind of agreement?"

"The kind you needn't worry about. But I will be staying here indefinitely."

The news made the soldier want to leap for joy, but he maintained his composure and just nodded.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing? What about your family?"

"I know what I'm doing, and I've taken care of the family. Part of my conditions for employment was to make sure they're all right."

Gideon stood staring down at the beautiful girl whose eyes seemed to capture nuggets of light and trap them in her dark irises.

He stood, rocking on his feet for a moment, in silence.

"Was there something else, Gideon?" Meg asked, worried the music would stop playing before he had a chance to say what she sensed he wanted to say.

Gideon blushed deeply and opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes dropped to look at his callous hands. He breathed deeply before looking back up. Meg was now looking into the black eyes of Sirus.

"He should not be talking to you," Sirus spat, stepping back away from Meg.

"Tell him that. He came to me." Meg shrugged as though Sirus' words didn't hurt.

"I have told him that, but he's not listening to me, and we're all getting punished for his interest in you."

"He's interested in me?" Meg asked innocently.

"Don't play with me, witch!" he stepped up to her and wrapped his thick hand around her neck.

Meg stood on tiptoe to keep from being dragged off the ground.

"You don't want to do this, Sirus." Meg's eyes flashed with warning.

"What are you going to do, witch? Anything you do to me hurts Gideon, too."

Meg narrowed her eyes and said, "Let go of me, Sirus."

His eyes flashed with doubt as she flung her will directly into his mind. He immediately let go of her throat and stepped back toward the door, but stopped. He looked away and when he looked back Meg was staring into a face that was neither Sirus nor Gideon. She reached with her empath thoughts and saw this alter's color was black, just black. Sirus' yellow and Gideon's red were small splotches surrounded by the blackness.

"You stay the hell away from us," a voice growled in a thick Southern accent.

"Who-who are you?" Meg's question hung in the air as she watched this alter reach down to retrieve a knife from his boot.

"I have no name." He played with the razor's edge of the blade with his thumb.

Meg was trying desperately to figure out what to do.

"What is your role in the system?" she managed to ask.

"I am the memory keeper, bitch."

"Why have you never come out before?"

"I only take over when we're about to do something the others are too chicken-shit to handle. I take care of matters and hold the memories so everyone else can live happily ever after."

"That doesn't seem fair," Meg was backing away from the dark alter, frantically trying to think of her options.

"Nothing's fair inside here," he shrugged. "So, let's get this over with. You stay away from Gideon and Sirus or I'll get to come out and play."

"But Gideon came to me." She said in a too soft voice.

"Then let's make it harder for him to do that." With the speed of a viper, the alter swung the blade high above his head and slammed it into his own thigh.